The massive auditorium felt as if all the air had been drained out of it. The moment Itsuki's face was revealed under the stage lights, a wave of whispers began to spread, buzzing like a disturbed beehive. Looks of astonishment, scrutiny, and outright contempt intertwined.
"Isn't that..." "The bastard child of the Mikage family?" "What the hell is that dirty-blooded trash doing on the Shiraishi Fund's podium?"
Amidst the brewing chaos, a heavyset man in the second VIP row suddenly stood up. It was Goro Tanaka, the CEO of a mid-sized import-export corporation. He pointed straight at the stage, his face red with anger, completely shattering the solemn atmosphere:
"What right do you have to stand up there, you little brat?! What kind of monkey trick is a dirty-blooded Mikage trying to pull here? If you're trying to leech off your family's name, save it. It's already in ruins."
Getting more heated as he spoke, he continued to yell, "Do you know how many million-dollar contracts I missed just to attend this damn seminar? Don't waste my time!"
His words were like a match thrown into a powder keg. Several surrounding directors and politicians began to nod in agreement. They felt insulted that their noble status was placed beneath a brat known as a bastard. A few nudged each other irritably, grabbing their briefcases, ready to leave. Seeing the support, Tanaka felt emboldened. He turned to incite the crowd:
"Everyone, we've been tricked! Let's go, staying here is just a waste of time with a wet-behind-the-ears brat of unknown origin!"
On the podium, Itsuki didn't show even a hint of anger. He stood up straight, resting his hands lightly on the podium, the corners of his lips curling into an elegantly chilling smile. Through the microphone, his deep, resonant voice rang out, gentle yet sharp enough to cut right through the chaotic noise:
"My apologies... To have a distinguished guest be so troubled is indeed a shortcoming on the part of our organizing committee. May I ask who you are...?"
Hearing the question, Tanaka puffed out his chest, raised his chin arrogantly, and roared back, his voice echoing through the hall: "I am Goro Tanaka, CEO of Tanaka Logistics! Listen closely, I spit on your Shiraishi name! This little parlor trick won't fool us. Everyone, let's leave!"
"Ah, Mr. Goro," Itsuki nodded slightly, his eyes showing feigned admiration. "A logistics corporation with a transport network covering all of East Asia. Truly admirable. But Mr. Goro, leaving in such a hurry... could it be that our seminar brings absolutely no value to you?"
"Value?" Tanaka burst into contemptuous laughter. "What can you bring other than smearing mud on the faces of the genuine businessmen here? I have a meeting with European partners tomorrow morning, and staying here another minute is just throwing my own money out the window!"
Saying that, he picked up his expensive briefcase, decisively stepping out of the row of seats. A few impulsive guests also clattered their chairs and stood up to follow his lead.
"I understand your time is money," Itsuki said leisurely, then lightly snapped his fingers with a crisp click. "Then let me help you save some time on auditing."
Immediately, a bodyguard in a black suit stepped out from the wings, carrying a thick file in his hands, and respectfully placed it on the podium. Itsuki opened the document file. His glowing red eyes skimmed over the text, and he slowly read into the microphone:
"Tanaka Logistics... Last year's Q3 financial report shows a deficit of two hundred million yen, fabricated as 'equipment maintenance costs.' Three months ago, you secretly transferred forty million yen into the account of a customs official to smoothly clear a shipment of banned electronic components. Ah, not to mention the five shell companies you're using to evade corporate income tax in the Cayman Islands..."
Tanaka's footsteps halted dead in the middle of the aisle. Those who were about to follow him instantly stiffened, slowly slumping back into their seats. Tanaka's arrogant face instantly turned as pale as a corpse, cold sweat pouring down his skin.
"What... what nonsense are you babbling about?! Where is the proof?!" he stammered, his voice trembling.
Itsuki sneered, picking up the stack of papers and tossing them straight off the stage. The white sheets of paper—carrying ledgers, receipts, and photos of Tanaka entering and leaving that official's house—fluttered down, landing right at the tips of Tanaka's shoes.
"I know there are things far more interesting than this, Mr. Goro," Itsuki looked at him with the eyes of a predator. "I hope you know what's good for you."
Tanaka swallowed hard, his legs turning to jelly. He hastily clasped his hands together, frantically changing his tune: "Chair... Chairman Itsuki... I... I was foolish just now, please be magnanimous..."
But Itsuki had already turned his face away, his voice becoming as cold as ice: "Just now, Mr. Goro here loudly claimed that he didn't want to stay, and that he was missing out on many important contracts. We cannot force a guest to stay against his will. Escort him out properly!"
Instantly, four burly bodyguards rushed in from the corners of the room, violently twisting Goro's arms behind his back. Despite his screaming and pathetic begging, they dragged him out the main doors like a bag of trash. The sound of the heavy oak doors slamming shut echoed dryly.
The massive hall instantly sank into absolute silence. Not a single whisper. Not a single heavy breath. The overwhelming aura of the seventeen-year-old youth on the stage had choked the throats of everyone sitting below.
Itsuki reached up to adjust his bowtie, the polite smile from earlier reappearing as if nothing had happened:
"I know you all are doubting me because of my background. Yes, I used to carry the Mikage surname. But that is a thing of the past. Currently, I have abandoned that name. I now bear the surname Shiraishi—the surname of my esteemed mother. Standing before you now is only Itsuki Shiraishi—Chairman of the Shiraishi Investment Fund."
He spread his arms wide, his voice beginning to carry a persuasive power, inciting the innate ambition and greed of the businesspeople in the room:
"All of us sitting here are businesspeople. And as businesspeople, the only religion we worship is profit. The past does not generate money, but the future does. Put aside your garbage prejudices to work together. The era of the old ways is dead, and the Shiraishi Fund will lead you into a new golden age!"
One second. Two seconds. Then, from the front row, the CEO of CyberCore stood up and applauded. Immediately after, like a falling house of cards, the entire hall stood up in unison. A thunderous round of applause erupted, carrying both terror and bottomless greed before the new king of the financial world.
After the applause died down, Itsuki shifted the direction of his speech. He masterfully presented new technology investment packages, painting a picture of a future where technology would entirely reshape human life.
"And speaking of the vanguard of future technology—brain wave reading and information recreation," Itsuki slowly paced across the podium. "We cannot help but mention an upcoming masterpiece. A project named Links Star."
Kairi's face changed slightly upon hearing the name of his project.
"It is not just software," Itsuki continued. "It is a miracle that helps recreate the deceased through their memories and digital footprints. A divine step that transcends the boundary between life and death."
Itsuki abruptly stopped, his glowing red eyes locking straight onto Kairi amidst the hundreds of people.
"And the person behind this great invention is none other than the CEO of MIND (Mental Interpretation & Neural Data)—Kairi Ren. Could you come up here and say a few words?"
As Kairi stepped to the center of the stage, Itsuki took a half-step back, elegantly offering the microphone to him. Under the brilliant crystal lights, Itsuki's blood-red eyes flashed with a hint of subtle mockery, like a hunter politely inviting his prey into a cage.
Kairi smiled and nodded, reaching out to take the microphone. He turned to face the audience, his gaze sweeping over the elite crowd who were holding their breath in anticipation.
"Thank you, Chairman Itsuki, for the exceedingly generous introduction," Kairi spoke. His voice was warm, calm, and resonant as it projected through the sound system, immediately capturing the attention of the entire room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Kairi took a slow step to the side, his demeanor as natural as a seasoned orator. "Have you ever wondered what humanity's greatest pain is regarding death? It is not the disintegration of the physical body, but the helplessness of knowing we will never again hear the voices, see the smiles, and witness the familiar habits of our loved ones."
The auditorium below was dead silent. The billionaires and legislators, usually accustomed to dry financial reports, were now completely drawn into the teenage boy's words.
"At MIND, we believe that technology was born to heal those ultimate traumas. And so, the Links Star project was created. It is not lifeless storage software, but a groundbreaking hardware device combined with three-dimensional holographic projection technology."
Kairi raised a hand, making a decisive gesture.
"How it works is a miracle forged from science. First, Links Star will read and decode the neural brainwaves of you—the ones left behind. When you focus on remembering the deceased, the device will extract the most authentic images, emotions, and memories from the depths of your mind. Second, the artificial intelligence system will gather the entirety of the 'digital footprints' the deceased left behind while alive: from social media chat histories and posts to the mass of personal habit data on their mobile phones."
Kairi raised his voice slightly, his sharp eyes sweeping over the crowd below who were widening their eyes in amazement.
"By combining those two massive data streams, Links Star will project a life-sized hologram of your loved one. It perfectly recreates not only their appearance but also their entire personality, intonation, and most characteristic conversational habits. You will not be interacting with a parroting robot. You will stand before the person you love, conversing with them so authentically that the boundary between life and death is completely erased."
Kairi paused for a beat, smiling confidently: "We cannot conquer death, but with Links Star, we can keep the ones we love by our side... forever."
The whole hall felt like the air was drained from it for a few seconds. The concept of owning a device that could resurrect the image and personality of a loved one had struck the softest weakness, and simultaneously the deepest desire, of humanity.
And then, the CEO of CyberCore stood up once again. A single clap rang out, followed by a seismic eruption of thunderous, frenzied, and wildly enthusiastic applause. The looks directed at Kairi were no longer scrutinizing, but filled with extreme craving and admiration.
Kairi maintained a standard half-smile, bowing slightly to the audience. When he turned to return the microphone, Itsuki had already closed the distance. The perfect social act was pushed to its climax as Itsuki spread his arms wide, giving Kairi a warm, enthusiastic hug in front of dozens of flashing camera lenses.
But the moment their chests touched, completely obscuring the view of the micro-camera on Kairi's shirt, Itsuki's saintly mask instantly vanished. A dark, hollow, and freezing voice, like something from the bottom of an abyss, whispered right next to Kairi's ear:
"Second-floor VIP room, right after my speech is done. Go there, Kairi. I have a very important matter to discuss with you."
Having said that, Itsuki stepped back, flashing a radiant smile, and patted Kairi's shoulder affectionately.
Kairi bowed to the audience and walked down the stage steps. Outwardly, he maintained a poised demeanor, but inside, his mind was re-evaluating the entire situation at breakneck speed.
A private meeting at this moment contained massive risks. Itsuki had called him by name and knew all about Links Star. Could Itsuki be a Time Breaker, or was there another puppet master behind him?
Kairi knew perfectly well that his earpiece had been disabled; he was completely cut off from audio communication with Yume. However, after a moment of hesitation, Kairi's footsteps still headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
He decided to go. Even though he couldn't hear instructions from the outside, the micro-camera hidden on his chest could still potentially be transmitting images back to Yume's team. More importantly, Kairi knew he still had an absolute fallback: He had not yet used today's activation of The Catalyth's ability. If that VIP room truly was a death trap, he would personally rewrite the rules of the game.