I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 3

“Odasaku, why are you this strong…”

Mizutani Hikaru really wanted to suppress the twitching at the corner of his mouth, but he almost failed.

If it had been the mechanical voice narrating the text, he could still endure it. But no—when it came to the key lines, they were played in the original voices.

Mizutani Hikaru had no idea what kind of trick the Book was using to achieve such realism.

But the impact of those original-voice lines was simply too strong. Even now, Nakahara Chūya’s words—“Show me your strength.”—still echoed in Mizutani Hikaru’s head.

Chūya adjusted the brim of his hat, his pair of blue eyes tinged with a bit of doubt.
“What’s wrong with you?”

Although Hikaru was usually silent, his silence today was definitely more frequent than usual.

Hikaru calmly replied,
“I’ve been working overtime these past two days. Probably just didn’t get enough sleep.”

If it had been anyone else, Hikaru had a repertoire of flawless “official lines” to use.

But Nakahara Chūya was undoubtedly a good superior. Hikaru always felt a little more at ease when speaking to him.

Chūya didn’t press further. He simply patted Hikaru’s shoulder and said,
“You’ve worked hard lately. Once the mission’s over, I’ll take you all to a yakiniku place.”

Hikaru nodded, pretending not to notice Chūya’s foot, faintly suspended in midair by gravity.

There was nothing he could do about it. Even with bizarre little stories blaring in his ears every day, life still had to go on, and work still had to be done. Hikaru turned on his computer, the bluish glow of the screen washing over him.

He worked for hours, until the sky outside had completely sunken into night. Only then did Hikaru slowly stretch his body.

He let out a slow breath.
Now that this side of things was done, it was time to check in on the other side—he still knew far too little about his other body.

He didn’t even know what it looked like. All he was certain of, in this pitch-black vision, was that he had a fully intact body.

It was a peculiar sensation, as if a thin layer of snow had been draped over him, bringing with it a faint, chilly coolness.

His eyes remained blind, and Hikaru had nearly gotten used to the darkness.

He heard rustling noises nearby—people. More than one. That realization instantly put him on high alert.

“You’re awake?”

A child’s warm breath brushed against his cheek. Even without sight, Hikaru could sense many gazes fixed on him.

The boy closest to him spoke nervously:
“How do you feel now? Does your face still hurt?”

Hikaru instinctively touched the injured area. His face was covered with gauze, the wound beneath still faintly throbbing with pain—but for him, it was negligible.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” another boy said.

When Suzuki Yū opened his eyes, all the children—except the youngest—froze in place.

Those clear eyes were like glass marbles, inside them a purer shade of blue, as though carved from glacial ice—so calm that not a ripple stirred within them.

Kōsuke cautiously waved a hand in front of those eyes.

But they remained fixed and motionless, like frozen glaciers—serene, devoid of life.

Hikaru could feel the slight breeze against his face. Even without sight, his other senses filled in the gaps.

He tilted his head slightly toward the boy’s direction and asked,
“Is there something wrong?”

By now, Hikaru had figured out that these must be Odasaku’s five children. But for some reason, only four were here before him now.

The largest boy seemed startled. He ran out, shouting loudly:
“Odasaku! His eyes are broken!”

Hikaru followed the sound of those heavy footsteps.

Beneath his feet, the wooden flooring creaked with a distinct “thump thump,” different from the uneven ground earlier—he judged he must now be upstairs.

The air was thick with the spicy scent of food. Hikaru didn’t usually eat such things, so after pausing for a moment he identified it—curry. And not just any curry, but the extra-spicy kind that stung the nose.

At once, Hikaru recalled the book’s title. Just how much did Odasaku love curry, to the point his info-pheromones in that absurd story were curry-flavored Omega pheromones?

In order to understand the terminology of ABO, and the gist of such stories, Hikaru had read a few of the most classic ABO fics. The novel settings and stimulating plots had instantly caught his attention. Originally he’d only meant to gather intel—but after reading a few, he found himself strangely hooked.

Kōsuke, realizing something was wrong, spun back around—only to see the just-awakened boy, with his innocent expression, tilting his head slightly. His curly black hair fell over his cheeks, a large square of gauze covered one side of his face, making him look pitiful.

Kōsuke’s heart softened instantly. He ran back and gently took Hikaru’s hand, whispering,
“I’ll guide you downstairs.”

Hikaru had already undergone training for blindness, so he was perfectly capable of navigating darkness with his other senses.

But how could he reject a child’s goodwill? So he cooperated, slowing his steps to match the boy’s pace.

Down the stairs, through the door—the spicy aroma of curry rushed straight into his nose. Before he even sensed Odasaku’s presence, Hikaru was nearly choked by the smell.

Suddenly, it made sense why the book’s title was The Curry-Flavored Assassin Omega.

“That kid woke up, huh?”

A middle-aged man’s voice rang out, and Hikaru felt a gaze fall on him. It carried no malice, only gentle observation.

Seeing Odasaku, Kōsuke clung to his clothes, urgently recounting what had just happened.

Hikaru walked over, even dragging over a high round stool to sit down slowly. He turned his face toward Kōsuke and said earnestly,
“My eyes were like this from birth. I didn’t suddenly go blind.”

Odasaku sat down next to him, looking at this child with no expression. Those beautiful blue eyes were like frozen crystals, reflecting an unchanging landscape. A large gauze patch covered his cheek, and the way he tilted his head had a strangely cute air about it.

“Achoo!” Hikaru sneezed, covering his nose and mouth. Perhaps this body’s organs were too delicate, but even inhaling curry’s spicy fumes was enough to overwhelm him.

He pressed his hand over his nose to reduce the intake, then focused intently on Odasaku, trying to sense if he carried the aura of a killer.

Those who’d lived that life carried a distinct sharpness about them—like a blade flashing coldly in the dark. Unless the assassin was impossibly skilled, that edge was impossible to hide. But such a person would never remain a mere errand boy at the Mafia’s bottom rung.

Kōsuke sat on another stool, so that the two children flanked Odasaku like his little guardians.

The stubbled man holding a spoon froze mid-bite. On one side, Kōsuke’s sparkling eyes. On the other, Suzuki Yū’s tilted head.

The shopkeeper laughed aloud.
“That’s the trouble with kids—can’t keep an eye on both sides at once.”

He bent down slightly toward Hikaru and asked,
“Anything you’d like to eat? I’ll make it for you.”

The children had already eaten. Odasaku too had eaten halfway. Only this new child had missed the mealtime, still unfed.

Hikaru shook his head. He still didn’t understand the exact nature of this body. It likely wasn’t truly human. Until he figured things out, he wasn’t sure if eating would have side effects.

But the instant he shook his head, his stomach growled—loudly. Louder than his refusal.

With each grumble, Hikaru lowered his head further in embarrassment.

The shopkeeper’s spatula clattered. Soon, a plate of fragrant fried rice was set before Hikaru, complete with a spoon and a cup of hot water.

“Thank you.”

Strange as it was, here he was, sharing a table with subordinates. Odasaku’s tolerance was remarkable—while Hikaru nearly choked just breathing in the spicy curry fumes, Odasaku ate mouthfuls of ultra-spicy curry like it was nothing.

To be fair, the shopkeeper’s cooking was excellent. Even plain fried rice became delicious in his hands. After finishing, Hikaru sat quietly on the stool.

So awkward. No one was speaking, yet the awkwardness filled the air.

【“I’ve been reborn. Reborn to the moment I first joined the Mafia. This time, I’ll take back everything that was mine.”】

Odasaku’s voice suddenly boomed in Hikaru’s ears. The lack of warning made Hikaru almost think it was Odasaku in real life speaking. But no—he quickly realized it was the Book again.

The blind-eyed child abruptly turned his head toward Odasaku, as though listening. Odasaku noticed the posture—it was one of attention. Yet no one had spoken aloud.

He asked softly,
“What’s wrong?”

Hikaru bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep control.

What the hell—this crappy story even had rebirth tropes?!

【*Odasaku easily defeated the towering two-meter man before him. The air grew thick with the scent of red wine, as though countless expensive bottles had been smashed in the room. Nakahara Chūya grinned, straightening his body: “Not bad at all, huh.”

In his past life, Odasaku had been tricked by Mori Ōgai, losing everything. But this time, he would guard it all. No one would die before his eyes. Defeating Chūya was merely the first step of his plan.

—End of Chapter 2: The Assassin Omega*】

Odasaku kept watching Suzuki Yū. The boy stayed silent and still, his face expressionless, those eyes frozen like ice, tilting his head slightly as if listening. Odasaku’s heart sank. Could it be auditory hallucinations? He knew some trauma survivors heard voices that weren’t real.

He asked softly,
“Is someone talking to you?”

Hikaru was slightly surprised, but quickly realized his earlier reaction must have tipped Odasaku off.

In this youthful body, he often failed to control instinctive reactions. Displaying emotions seemed to come more naturally—like a child’s reflex.

He murmured,
“Just some strange words. I know they aren’t real.”

Besides, in that story your offensive streak is insane. You beat Chūya in three moves flat—at this rate, in two more chapters you’ll probably be Mafia Boss already.

Odasaku pulled him into another embrace. His hands were warm, patting gently on Hikaru’s back, as if the whole world was holding him.

“Don’t worry,” Odasaku whispered.
“It’s all over now.”