She looked at it as a starting block.
Today was different. A letter had arrived, not by email, but by traditional hamon folded paper, delivered by a courier in a dark suit. It was from a Mr. Kazuo Hoshino, the director of a private support foundation she had never heard of: the "New Genesis Outreach Division." The letterhead was stark, gray, and oddly formal. Nagase Mami - Wheelchair-bound Young NGOD-220 -...
“Nagase-san,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am sorry for the theatrics. But your mind has built walls stronger than any climbing route you ever faced. Today, we introduce a controlled variable.” She looked at it as a starting block
She sobbed. The pressure became a pull, a gentle traction from her ankles to her hips. It felt like someone was pulling her back up, reeling her in from an abyss. The vertigo sharpened, then… snapped . It was from a Mr
Her breath hitched.
The threat was cold, clinical. Her family, already strained by her medical bills, had no idea. The social worker, Tanaka-san, had simply shrugged. “Hoshino-san’s group is… unconventional. But they have government ties. I can’t stop it.”