"Let's go then, partner," I said as I left the apartment. "Those girls are fun, but sometimes I just want someone to pamper me for a change, you know?" I complained playfully as we walked.
"Besides, what's with this Chiyoko lady? I thought you had to be a teenager to be a magical girl."
"You're thinking too small," Gemgem lectured. "The Light feeds on powerful, raw emotion. That's usually found in teenagers, yes. But on rare occasions, an adult's feelings are so strong, so overwhelming, they become a beacon."
"In Chiyoko Satori's case, it's a boundless, almost sick compassion. Her desire to heal is so profound that it transcends the age limit. She's an anomaly, and anomalies are often the most powerful."
"Her age is a weapon, too. She's not a flighty kid. She's an adult with a routine. But her beliefs are set in stone. Corrupting her will take more than just a simple bribe."
We arrived at the sprawling City Central Hospital.
"East wing. Pediatrics. Third floor," Gemgem instructed. "Don't just charge in. Watch her. Understand what makes her tick."
"Find the crack in her perfect, selfless armor. Every saint has a secret sin."
"Sure, sure," I thought sarcastically. "I bet your all-powerful brain scan came up empty this time, so now you need my human intelligence instead." I hummed as I walked to the east wing, looking for my target.
"My psych scan is absolute," Gemgem retorted, a flicker of cold pride in its tone. "I already know her weakness. But I'm not telling you. You've gotten lazy, relying on me for everything."
"This one's different. Her weakness isn't simple greed or jealousy. I want you to find it. I want you to watch, to analyze, to figure it out on your own."
"Prove you're more than just the guy with the tentacles." Its logic was infuriating, but it had a point.
I found the pediatric ward, cheerfully painted but smelling of disinfectant. I peered through the small window of a common room door.
And there she was.
Chiyoko Satori was even more beautiful in person. A mature woman with long, gentle brown hair tied in a loose bun and kind, warm eyes behind simple glasses. She was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a small group of kids in hospital gowns.
Her voice was a soft, soothing melody, reading from a picture book. A faint, pearly aura emanated from her, so subtle it was almost invisible, calming the room. The kids were captivated, their pain and fear gone for a moment.
She was the very picture of selfless love. A perfect, flawless saint. Finding a crack here seemed impossible.
"Good," I thought to the "Gem. So you're finally starting to see me as a partner, not just a host." I leaned back in an uncomfortable chair nearby, pretending to read a book while I watched her.
"Your interpretation of my motives is, as always, sentimental and wrong," Gemgem grumbled. "This isn't trust, this is a test. Don't disappoint me."
For the next hour, I just watched. Chiyoko's patience was endless. She never looked tired, never got frustrated. Every single action was one of pure, selfless giving.
But then I saw it.
A young doctor, probably an intern, came in to check on a child. He thanked Chiyoko for her help. "Satori-sensei, you're a miracle worker," he said with a kind smile.
"My shift ends in half an hour. I was wondering, if you're free… would you like to get some coffee?"
A simple, polite invitation. But for a split second, I saw it.
A flicker in Chiyoko's eyes. It wasn't annoyance nor disgust. It was a deep, crushing sadness. A look of utter exhaustion. Her smile stayed put, but it became a mask, a polite, professional wall.
"That's very kind of you, Doctor," she said, her voice gentle but completely final. "But I'm afraid I have other plans. Thank you for the offer, though."
The doctor, slightly crestfallen, nodded and left. Chiyoko turned back to the children, her warm, compassionate mask perfectly back in place.
But I had seen it. The crack. It wasn't a secret sin or a selfish desire. It was a deep, hidden sorrow, triggered by the simple offer of a normal, personal connection.
"…There," Gemgem's voice hummed in my mind, low and interested. "Did you see it?"
"Geez, that's quite a cryptic puzzle you're giving me, Gemgem," I muttered to myself. "Time to make use of my brain next."
I left the hospital and ducked into a convenience store. "Time to put that war fund to use," I muttered, grabbing a cheap folding table, a black cloth, and a deck of tarot cards. "Let's see if this bait works."
I set up shop on a quiet side street I knew was on her route home. My "Free Tarot Reading" sign was hand-written on a piece of cardboard, looking perfectly amateur.
With my face mask on and a dark hood pulled up, I probably looked less like a mystic and more like a cheap scammer, which was exactly the point.
"An unconventional approach," Gemgem noted dryly. "This is absurd. But yt might just work."
I didn't have to wait long. Twenty minutes later, I saw her approaching. She walked alone, her head slightly bowed, lost in her own world. The radiant warmth she had in the hospital was gone, replaced by a quiet, solitary melancholy.
She saw my table. Her first instinct was to walk right past it. But then her eyes caught the word "Free."
It wasn't the price that stopped her but the lack of one. It was an act of giving with no expectation of reward.
It was a gesture that spoke her language.
She hesitated, a flicker of curiosity warring with her caution. I didn't move a muscle, just sat there, a mysterious, silent figure behind a deck of cards.
Driven by a small, uncharacteristic impulse, she stopped. She approached my table slowly, her kind eyes looking me over with a mixture of skepticism and gentle interest.
"…Excuse me?" she asked, her voice as soft and gentle as it was in the hospital. "A free reading?"