Chapter 57: Shaking Off the Name of Fujiang

Returning once again to the lavish Inoue family estate, a grand celebration banquet was held to honor the return of Fukue No. 3. There were no questions asked, no hesitation—Fukue No. 3’s return signified the perfect completion of the mission.

As for the Inoue family itself, no one paid it any mind.

Seated at the head of the table, gazing down at the core members of the Inoue household and the exquisitely plated dishes on the low table before her—each dish worth a good half-month’s wages for an ordinary worker—she raised her glass.

“Thanks to Lord Fukue’s efforts, the grand ambitions of the Inoue family have reached this day smoothly!”

“To your health!”

Amidst the excited cheers, Fukue No. 3 smiled listlessly as she lifted her glass of red wine, clinking it with everyone else’s beer.

In the island nation, the order of drinking at gatherings was quite particular; the first cup was usually draft beer, after which other types of alcohol could be chosen. Had it been any other member of the Inoue family, they would have been scolded long ago for breaking this rule. But no one dared to speak against Fukue No. 3.

“Lord Fukue, long time no see. You are as beautiful as ever. I raise my glass to you.”

“Lord Fukue...”

“Lord Fukue...”

At first, Fukue No. 3 enjoyed the flattery, the feeling of being the center of everyone’s admiration. But as the words “Lord Fukue” were repeated over and over, her expression gradually darkened.

Seeing this, others who had intended to offer toasts quickly abandoned the idea and obediently returned to their seats. No one understood why Fukue No. 3’s expression had suddenly turned so grim, but to them, Lord Fukue’s moods were always so unpredictable. Since she was displeased, they could only wait for another time.

Because of Fukue No. 3’s mood, the once lively celebration became cautious and subdued.

Ignoring the Inoue family members entirely, Fukue No. 3 stared at the red wine in her hand and the array of delicacies on the table.

“Lord Fukue, Lord Fukue... Couldn’t they call me by anything else?”

Clatter!

The guests whispering softly were dumbfounded as Fukue No. 3 suddenly stood with a cold expression.

With a terrifying look, she strode through the corridor to her private bath, a place no one else dared to enter.

The maid, on duty there all day, hurried over to assist her in removing the remaining clothes but was pushed to the ground with a careless shove.

“Get out!”

“Y-yes...!”

Not understanding why Fukue No. 3 was so angry, the maid dared not ask further.

Disregarding the precious dress soaking in the water, Fukue No. 3 severed the consciousness link with Fukue, loosened her hair, and sank into the bath.

Looking up at the starry sky above, her thoughts drifted away.

In the past, when others called her Fukue, she accepted it as natural—because she was Fukue, no different from any other Fukue.

But today, amid the endless praise of “Lord Fukue,” her mood grew restless.

She knew that since the hive mind emerged, she was no longer simply Fukue, but a splintered fragment born from Fukue.

Looking down at her flawless, porcelain-like skin, indistinguishable from Fukue’s, her gaze deepened.

Recalling the earlier order Fukue gave her—to self-destruct upon mission completion—Fukue No. 3’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Why? Why must she be merely Fukue’s shadow? Why can’t she become a completely new person?

To break free from the name Kawakami Fukue and become a new, whole self!

Even if she could not rival Fukue in the island nation, with her own abilities, was she not entitled to enjoy everything she now possessed elsewhere?

With that thought, Fukue No. 3 definitively cut off all ties with Fukue and emerged from the bath with a sense of relief.

Soaked, she flung open her room door, took the fresh clothes from the waiting maid, and dressed.

In her room, Inosuke Inoue sat quietly on the sofa, waiting.

“Lord Fukue, what’s wrong with you?”

Again with “Lord Fukue.” Couldn’t they call her anything else?

Yet Fukue No. 3 knew well that, whether called Kawakami or Fukue, her identity would inevitably overlap with Fukue’s.

Thinking of this, her expression turned icy once more.

“Book me a flight to the Maldives.”

Inosuke nodded repeatedly. Though he didn’t understand why Fukue No. 3’s mood had soured so badly, he immediately instructed his assistant to arrange the necessary procedures.

After Inosuke left, Fukue No. 3 angrily sank into the sofa.

Fukue... Fukue... Fukue!

At this moment, determined to shed the identity of Fukue, she was filled with rage, her chest heaving violently.

The best way to resolve such emotions was to vent them.

At the same time, she conceived a perfect plan to sever ties with Fukue—one that would surely disgust her!

Picking up the landline, she dialed Inosuke’s number.

“Send me a few...”

Before she could say “male models,” memories of Utaka’s various moments flooded her mind:

The panic when she first helped with her period, the near-death in Yamazaki Alley, the hoarse screams in the abandoned shrine...

“Lord Fukue?”

“...”

Her expression twisted as anger, longing, madness, and cruelty battled within her, leaving her silent for a long while.

Finally, it dissolved into helpless confusion.

“Send your secretary here...”

“Yes.”

Though Inosuke didn’t know why Fukue No. 3 suddenly requested his secretary, he recalled her pale expression.

But since this was a capable subordinate he had personally trained, he valued him greatly.

“No matter what Lord Fukue asks of you, you must obey.”

“Yes!”

The secretary, heart pounding with anxiety, composed himself and knocked on Fukue No. 3’s door.

Upon entering, he saw her sitting with legs crossed on the sofa.

“Close the door.”

Obediently, the secretary shut the door and approached.

Looking at the tall, voluptuous figure who bore a striking resemblance to Kayako, a mischievous smile curled on Fukue No. 3’s lips.

Then, she began to remove her clothes.

“Kneel.”

The secretary froze momentarily, then his face flushed with a mix of shame and anger.

Fukue No. 3’s smile turned cruel.

“Guess what Inosuke would do if I told him to kill you?”

Stunned by her words, the secretary slowly knelt down, his face full of anguish.

Pressing firmly on the back of his head, Fukue No. 3’s smile became both merciless and exhilarated.

“From now on, your body no longer belongs to you.”

Unconcerned whether her power would warp the secretary’s personality and thoughts, after implanting this command simply and ruthlessly, Fukue No. 3 closed her eyes and began to savor the moment.