Messiah

Uemoto Tarō is a congressman.

At the same time, one of the most unlucky people in recent memory is about to bow and apologize in a huge public talk.

The reason is simple: there was a terrorist attack in peaceful Tokyo, not a single victim survived, dozens died.

And the perpetrators are still at large.

After the police's public apology, and with no sign of the perpetrators and no clear understanding of their origins and purpose, a member of the legislature came out and apologized again.

Uemoto Tarō, one of the most popular and well-liked members of the legislature, and a man with a good temper, is the unlucky one to be the victim of this tragedy.

Ichijō Mirai looked at the mission file and felt deeply sorry for the unlucky man, "Wow."

He perfunctorily tapped his fingers on his forehead and shoulders in a prayer gesture of pity, "Even worse, he was the target of my mission, wasn't he?"

The young officer who had come to deliver the file was silent, his head hung down and he closed his mike, quiet as a corpse unable to express his opinion but only agreeing with the dog's words in a brainless manner.

"You're right."

He paused, then carefully added, "Under the mission target's personal profile is his itinerary."

"He will make a public apology the day after tomorrow to calm the public."

The young officer's eyes fell to the table in the living room, and he was about to say, "Your injuries..."

On the table was a pile of gauze and cotton balls with two things in common.

One, they were originally all white.

Two, they were now blood-red.

Ichijō Mirai hadn't had time to treat them, and with his abdomen not exposed, the young officer naturally assumed that he had over-exerted himself on his last mission and that the wound had opened up and would affect his next mission.

"If you're not feeling well," the young officer said cryptically, "you can refuse the mission."

"The frequency of your missions is too high."

"We people have no choice, we can't fight against the terrible organization that shrouds us like a fog, but you..."

He was more cautious, "I don't think you're a weakling who can't fight back and is at the mercy of others."

Good point.

If Ichijō Mirai hadn't proactively requested to increase the frequency of missions.

Ichijō Mirai turned the file over and said in a light tone, "You seem to know me well enough to understand the organization's attitude towards me."

The young officer immediately adjusted his kneeling position, raised his upper body, and bowed deeply again, "Sumimasen!"

He maintained his deep bow, his entire body almost forming a bolded 'several' as sweat trickled down his forehead, "I just assumed that you would be able to acquire a codename soon."

"I don't know much about the organization, but I do know that the organization treats ordinary members and codename members very differently."

"If you want to, you can definitely become a codename member in a very short period of time, and the organization's attitude towards you must be different."

"And,"

The young officer did not look up, his voice lowered a few points, "Before you joined the organization, the organization specially let me join the organization for you, this is the attitude of attention."

"Personally, I think the organization thinks very highly of you."

That's true.

But because of the overly respectful attitude and the tone of voice that was like praising a god, it seemed a little bit like flattering.

Ichijō Mirai looked at the young officer for a few more moments, and nodded his head without changing his expression, "Hmm."

--The player deserved it.

He then casually asked, "What's your name?"

You can't keep calling it 'a young police officer', can you? The prefix is longer than Gin's, and it's too cumbersome and irritating.

"Inuo," the young officer put his head against the ground, showing no expression, but his hoarse voice revealed excitement, "my name is Inuo!"

"Inuo Ichirō." 

Translated loosely, it means: a dog's tail.

It's a good name.

So good that Ichijō Mirai, who was checking the documents, couldn't help but look down, glancing at the black head lying at his feet, and recognizing the vivid image of a dog wagging its tail enthusiastically at its master, he was in awe, and genuinely complimented, "There's really a person with a name like that."

It's not meant to be insulting, it's just a compliment from a player about the appropriateness of the official name.

But as long as the person being praised has a little bit of heart, he or she will deeply feel that they have been insulted.

Inuo Ichirō did not.

His head was still bowed, his shoulders trembling, his voice trembling, his entire head reddening where his hair didn't cover it, "Thank you, thank you for the compliment!"

"You said the same thing about me, that the last name sounded like a puppy's tail."

"You also said that I did sound like a puppy's tail," Inuo Ichirō said, a little ashamed, "and that when I saw someone, I would enthusiastically pounce on them and wag them, telling me not to get too close to you."

It's not a very friendly attitude.

"I'm correcting it."

So, "The most important thing in a dog is loyalty, right? Loyalty to the master."

Inuo Ichirō finally looked up and solemnly swore, "From the moment you solved the case of my mother's death, I made up my mind to be loyal to you."

"You are the only master I recognize."

Ichijō Mirai: "..."

He once again took his eyes off the papers and looked to Inuo Ichirō, uttering a simple syllable.

"Ah."

From a normal person's perspective, Ichijō Mirai wanted to be shocked and sigh, "You actually called my subordinate a dog, you Japanese are really playing big."

But with the example of 'You and my girlfriend, let's develop further together!', this strange sentence symbolizing 'Hello, dear player, this is the player's exclusive humanoid and pet' is not too shocking.

He could only respond flatly, "I see."

By the way, he rejected it in advance with some disgust, "Don't call me master."

"Huh?" Inuo Ichirō inquired carefully, "Then what should I call you...?"

First of all, it can never be a family name. Ichijō Mirai's parents are both dead, so his family name is a bit of a lightning rod.

Secondly, not a first name, just a first name is too close, too equal.

Ichijō Mirai doesn't have a code name yet, and he can't be called by one.

Then...

"Ichijō Mirai," Ichijō Mirai didn't care much about the name and continued to read the documents, "Mr. Ichijō, Mr. Mirai, Mister, lord, sir, boss, moral standard-bearer."

"Whatever, it's fine."

Inuo Ichirō didn't say anything.

Ichijō Mirai glanced over, "You seem to have a problem with the title 'moral standard-bearer'."

"...Absolutely not!" Inuo Ichirō echoed in a brainless voice, "You are the moral standard-bearer that deserves to be called 'moral standard-bearer'!"

It was a bit hard to agree.

"It's just that the compliment doesn't seem to fit the person, it lacks respect."

And it lacks 100% authenticity.

"Then change it," Ichijō Mirai said, not really caring, absently thinking about what the players had called each other over the years, pondering what would be appropriate for his own moral standard-bearer with a high sense of morality, and actually came up with it, "There,"

"--Messiah."