Coda

 Takeshi stood alone inside the room as the door closed silently.

Moonlight filtered through a circular window set high into the wall, casting a pale ring across the room. For a brief moment, something in him almost laughed — an echo of younger days, when sneaking into other people’s houses had been a game, long before he was recruited as a Producer.

That was before his sister died.

He shook his head. This wasn't the time to linger on the past.

He still hadn’t finished grieving for the girls. He doubted he ever would. But grief wouldn’t change the reality. What was happening now wasn’t coincidence. It had been prepared long in advance.

All he needed was proof.

The room was smaller than he expected. There were no decorations, just a wide desk positioned at the center, a single table lamp, and shelves recessed into the wall.

It was hidden inside an abandoned factory owned by the current Director of the Harmonia Foundation.

Saionji Kogetsu.

Takeshi had never known this place existed, learning of it only through an anonymous message detailing its location and access route. The sender left no trace, only a single letter at the end of the message.

K.

Reina had warned him the factory could be a trap.

He had gone anyway.

The memory card Yuzuriha entrusted to Reina was already damning enough — detailed records of Diva experimentation, conditioning protocols, resonance testing. All conducted by Aikawa Reijuro, under orders of Kogetsu himself.

But leaking it meant suicide.

They needed something physical. Something undeniable.

Director Kurogane had done what he could to help his little girl after stepping down, but even he was under surveillance now. The old man’s reach was limited.

Takeshi approached the desk slowly.

Stacks of documents lay neatly arranged; each bore the signature of Director Kogetsu himself. He pulled out his phone and began photographing each page, recording everything as he flipped through them.

Reina’s low voice came through the earpiece.

“Takeshi.”

“Yes, I hear you,” he replied, barely above a whisper.

“I’m recording everything. I’ll send it once I’m done.”

“… Be careful.” 

The line went quiet. 

Takeshi continued his work, some documents lay apart from the rest, thinner than the others. He photographed them as he scanned through the pages. 

What he saw made his breath catch. 

Lists of names crossed out. Research projects redacted. Approval sheets and other classified documents, stripped of context.

At the bottom of the page, a stamped seal stood out, clear as day.

Saionji Kogetsu.

A shadow crossed the door. Takeshi didn't notice.

The door behind him opened, Footsteps echoed through the room.

“Looking for something, Producer Takeshi?”

Takeshi turned. 

He came face to face with the man himself. Beside him stood a teenage girl in a pristine uniform, her D-Mic already in her hand, waiting for an order.

Kogetsu glanced at the desk, then at the phone in Takeshi's hand.

“So,” he said mildly. “You found it.”

Takeshi didn't answer. His thumb hovered over the screen.

Kogetsu stepped forward and stopped just short of the desk, his gaze settling on the scattered documents.

“You were never meant to see this room,” he continued. “But I suppose that much is obvious.”

Takeshi pressed send.

His phone vibrated once in his grip as the files transferred.

Kogetsu's eyes flickered with amusement as he noticed.

“You're wasting your last moments,” he said. “Those records will never see the light of day.”

“They don’t need to,” Takeshi lifted his gaze. “They just need to exist.”

Kogetsu regarded him for a moment longer, then let out a quiet breath.

“You’re a diligent Producer,” he said. “That’s why this is unfortunate.”

The Diva shifted, rocking back and forth.

Takeshi glanced at her, then back to Kogetsu.

“So this is how you keep order,” he said quietly. “You erase the problem and call it stability.”

Kogetsu didn’t deny it.

“Order requires sacrifice,” he said. “That’s how this world functions.”

“And this is how you enforce it,” Takeshi said, his voice steady.

“Yes.” Kogetsu’s expression didn’t change.

Silence settled into the room.

“This conversation is over,” he said.

The Diva moved as the gunshot rang.

The line cut off.

Reina didn’t move.

The last thing she heard was the sudden absence of sound. Then her phone vibrated.

It was what Takeshi had sent before the connection ended — images, video, and an audio log.

Enough to understand what he had walked into… and why he was never going to walk back out.

Tears fell free as her hand gently caressed the ring on her finger. She pressed it briefly to her lips, then lowered her hand and sat there in silence until sleep finally took her.

By morning, the Foundation released an official notice.

Producer Takeshi had died during an internal security incident involving unauthorized access.

Zero explanation, no accountability. His name reduced to a line of text.

Reina read it once, then set the newspaper aside.

Director Kurogane came to her that evening.

He closed the door behind him before speaking.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze fell to the ring on her finger.

Reina forced a small smile and told him everything they found.

He reviewed the materials in silence.

When he reached the contents of Yuzuriha’s memory card, he sighed.

“I… never would have thought Kogetsu would go to such lengths,” he said quietly. “For what? Power?”

Reina remained silent, unable to answer.

When he finished, Kurogane looked at her — not as a Director, but the same man who had stood beside her when her parents were no longer in the world. He had taken her in. He had guided her. He had been the one who led her into the dangerous world of Divas.

“We can’t release these yet,” he said, his voice firm. “Not now.”

“I know,” Reina replied. There was no argument in her voice. Only resignation. “We’re too powerless.”

Kurogane held her gaze.

“Then we create that power ourselves,” he said. “A strength that can stand against him.”

From that night on, Kurogane began using what remained of his influence. Old contacts. Quiet favors. People who still remembered what the Foundation was supposed to be. All of it was done to keep the truth protected, waiting to be revealed at the right time.

For now, Reina chose to disappear from the world.

Publicly, nothing changed.

Saionji Kogetsu remained in power, abusing it.

The Foundation remained intact, corrupted.

Japan stayed stable — most of it.

But beneath all of that, something began to move.

Guided by a guardian who had chosen his side, and a girl who had finally found the answer to a question she had carried all along.

Is Diva a blessing… or a curse?