Chapter 90 - 90: I’ll Cure Your Insomnia

At 6:30 in the evening, inside the security booth of a luxurious mansion in Setagaya, two security guards stared in stunned silence at the front gate. Under the bright floodlights, a figure in a hooded sweatshirt and a swirling-patterned mask effortlessly vaulted over the two-meter-high gate. No—To be precise, it wasn't a normal jump. It was as if he had stepped on thin air itself, propelling himself upward for a second leap midair. The two guards stood there, slack-jawed, before finally snapping back to their senses and rushing out to intercept him. They never got the chance. Before they could even speak, they were knocked unconscious in an instant. "Just take a nap. You'll dream of everything you need." Stepping into the security booth, Haru rolled up his sleeves and drove his fist straight into the monitor screen. Electric sparks crackled, glass fragments sprayed outward, and a few sharp shards even grazed his arm. He slowly pulled back his arm—completely unscathed. Not even a scratch. Without breaking stride, he made his way into the brightly lit first-floor hall. The space was empty, but voices drifted down from upstairs, accompanied by the muffled thump of music. Upon reaching the second floor, he found a spacious lounge filled with young men and women, chatting and laughing over drinks. Empty bottles lay scattered across tables, coffee stands, and even the floor. The music blaring from the speakers was a classic dance hit from the '90s. Some were drinking, others were flirting, and a few were glued to their phones—completely oblivious to the hooded figure standing at the top of the stairs. Haru had always been polite. Since he was here, it was only natural to introduce himself. He picked up an empty Asahi beer bottle by his foot and flung it toward the speakers. Crash! The bottle exploded on impact, shards of glass scattering across the floor. Several people jumped in shock. "Who the hell threw that?" someone shouted in irritation. It sounded just like that famous line from Kung Fu Hustle: "Who threw that firecracker?" Everyone turned toward the source of the disturbance. And when they saw the hooded sweatshirt and swirling mask, they froze. "It's the Hooded Man!" A few people, oblivious to the situation, let out excited whistles. Meanwhile, at the center of the room, Hisada Keisuke's face darkened as he stood up. "You came for me?" He gestured for someone to turn off the speakers. Haru shook his head. "You were looking for me. So, I came." Hisada let out a short laugh. "That's right. I was looking for you. Thanks for saving me the trouble." Someone nearby raised a curious eyebrow. "Hisada, you know the Hooded Man? Is he tonight's mystery guest?" Hisada subtly gestured toward his bodyguards, signaling them to move in. Before he could speak, Haru said, "That's right. I am tonight's mystery guest." Several people stood up, looking genuinely excited. They assumed these two actually knew each other. But in the next moment, their excitement turned into stunned silence as Haru calmly added: "Hisada Keisuke—I'm here to cure your insomnia." Insomnia? The word left everyone confused. Hisada let out a cold chuckle and was just about to speak when— Bang! A deafening crash echoed through the room. Haru had casually picked up a heavy wooden chair and hurled it straight at them. One of Hisada's bodyguards, who had just finished rolling up his sleeves, had no time to react. The chair struck him full force. Not even a grunt escaped his lips before he crumpled backward. The impact sent the chair bouncing upward, colliding with a wall-mounted clock. More debris rained down as gears and shattered glass scattered across the floor. The young partygoers, who had moments ago assumed this was all part of the night's entertainment, stared in shock—mouths agape, too stunned to make a sound. "You should all leave now," Haru helpfully suggested. That snapped them out of their daze. This wasn't a friendly visit. This was trouble. Recalling all the ruthless rumors about the Hooded Man online, their faces went pale. Screaming, they scrambled toward the staircase, tripping over themselves in their panic to escape. Within moments, only three people remained in the room: Hisada Keisuke and his two remaining bodyguards. Haru took a step forward. "Are you ready?" Hisada frowned. "Ready for what?" "For your insomnia to be cured." Before Hisada could respond, the bodyguard on the right suddenly grabbed a katana from the display rack and charged forward without hesitation. Clearly, Hisada hadn't planned to run—he had come prepared. The blade gleamed under the crystal chandelier's light. From his fluid footwork to his precise downward slash aimed at Haru's arm, it was evident he was no amateur. But Haru didn't even flinch. He simply raised his right arm and blocked the strike head-on. A sharp, metallic clang rang out. Then— Snap! The blade shattered. The top half of the katana spun through the air before embedding itself into the couch with a soft thunk. The bodyguard staggered back, his hands numb from the impact, barely holding onto the broken hilt. But that wasn't what scared him the most. It was the fact that Haru's arm— Was completely unscathed. Not even a single drop of blood. "You've got to be kidding me…" Hisada Keisuke triumphant smirk vanished, his face going pale. For a brief moment, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. How could a human arm withstand a katana? As the three of them stood frozen in shock, Haru's still-raised right arm suddenly clenched into a fist— And he struck. The bodyguard barely had time to react. Realizing he couldn't dodge, he instinctively raised his arms to block. Crack! The sickening sound of bone snapping filled the room. His arm bent at an unnatural angle, the limb rendered useless in an instant. The force sent him stumbling backward before he finally collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony. His arm… The katana… Both had shattered like fragile glass. Haru didn't even spare him a glance. His gaze was locked onto Hisada Keisuke as he took another step forward. "SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM NOW!" Panic surged in Hisada's voice as he barked orders at his last remaining guard. The bodyguard hesitated for a second. But as Haru drew closer, he gritted his teeth and pulled out a handgun from his waist. "A handgun, huh?" Haru's voice remained indifferent. Legally, Japan only allowed hunting rifles and air guns. Handguns were strictly prohibited. But for a family like Hisada's, getting their hands on one wasn't the problem— It was keeping it a secret. Haru shifted his stance, bracing himself. Like an arrow released from its bow, Haru shot toward the gun-wielding bodyguard. The sheer speed of his sudden burst of movement made the bodyguard hesitate for just a split second—then he made his decision. He raised the gun. Took aim. Pulled the trigger. Bang. "You—" The first shot rang out, but Haru twisted his body, slipping past it with ease. "Too slow." The second shot came. He ducked, letting the bullet sail over him. Before the third shot could even be fired, a sickening crack echoed through the room. The bodyguard's gun flew into the air, flipping end over end. His wrist had been snapped cleanly out of place. Before he could react, a fist crashed into his chin. His consciousness flickered out instantly as his body crumpled to the floor. "Are you kidding me?!" For the second time, Keisuke blurted out those words in disbelief. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and bolted toward an inner room. Haru followed, watching as Keisuke dove inside and slammed the door shut. He could hear frantic footsteps scurrying away inside. He raised a fist— And slammed it straight into the wall. A deafening explosion of force erupted as the front-facing wall shattered. His fist punched clean through the crumbling plaster, sending a cloud of dust and debris blasting outward. On the other side, Keisuke had just reached the window, his hands fumbling to open it—only to freeze in horror. Haru's fist was hovering mere inches from his face, stopping just short of shattering his skull. With a thump, Keisuke's legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the floor, trembling violently. If blocking a blade with his bare arm had already shaken him to his core— Then dodging bullets and punching through walls had shattered his sense of reality entirely. Haru withdrew his hand, stepped back, and kicked open the door, casually dusting himself off as he strode inside. When he stopped in front of Keisuke, the man was completely paralyzed with fear, his eyes flicking back and forth between the gaping hole in the wall and the figure standing over him. "Don't look so surprised," Haru murmured, his voice still low and hoarse from being deliberately altered. "The Baki production team must've wandered onto the wrong set." Keisuke flinched. "N-No—please! Please, I'm begging you! I swear I won't investigate you anymore!" At last, he had a reaction. At last, his fear had broken him. Haru's reply was calm and even: "Too late." The same words he'd told Keisuke's mother earlier. "I don't like being investigated." Then, with a sharp movement—he stomped down. A sickening crack echoed through the room as Keisuke's right leg snapped beneath his foot. "Aaaah... I was wrong! I was really wrong!" "I also don't like being threatened." With another brutal stomp, Haru shattered Keisuke's left leg. "I've been playing by the rules. I just wanted to be a law-abiding citizen—go out and do some good once in a while, be the so-called hero of justice... but why did you have to push me?" Grabbing Keisuke, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, Haru slowly dragged him toward the balcony. At that moment, there was movement at the front door. A well-dressed woman, adorned in jewelry, stormed inside with a group of people in tow. They froze the moment they saw the figure on the balcony—Haru, holding Keisuke. Keisuke saw them too. His pale, blood-drained face twisted into a pathetic grimace as he choked out a desperate plea. "Save me..." The woman snapped back to her senses. Shock turned to fury as she screamed, "Put him down! Stop this right now!" Haru ignored her. Stepping up onto the balcony railing, he balanced effortlessly. "You bastard! I swear, if you don't stop, I'll kill you! I'll absolutely kill you!" Her voice, once poised and elegant, was now filled with unrestrained rage. Haru tilted his head, murmuring as if to himself, "Another one of those empty threats." Then, he let go. Keisuke's scream tore through the night air as he plummeted, his body crashing onto the sleek blue convertible parked below. Though the second-floor drop wasn't that high, the impact was enough to cave in the luxury car's hood on impact. A deafening crash rang out as shards of shattered glass burst into the air, scattering like glittering stars under the streetlights. The people below stood there, frozen in shock. Arrogant? Reckless? None of those words seemed sufficient to describe what they had just witnessed. Even those standing beside the woman—people who had seen their fair share of chaos—found themselves struggling to process the scene before them. But Haru? He simply chuckled. "Relax, he won't die. I just cured his insomnia." His voice was light, almost as if he were making casual small talk with an old friend. "He'll be sleeping well for a long time. No more restless nights." With that, Haru turned and stepped back into the room. "Get him!" The woman finally snapped out of her daze, screaming as she rushed toward her son. The others scrambled to call an ambulance, while a few hurried toward the staircase leading to the second floor. Yet, as they reached the top, they all stopped in unison. A strange, silent understanding passed between them as they glanced at one another—no one dared to go any further. Because they had seen the bullet holes in the floor. Gunfire? And yet... the hooded man had walked away unscathed? Had he dodged the bullets? Or had the shooter simply missed? Recalling the way Keisuke had been effortlessly tossed off the balcony, they felt the former was far more likely. "...Should we at least take a look? If things go south, we can always run." Someone whispered. A cowardly suggestion—but one that everyone quickly agreed to. They moved cautiously, step by step, toward the room. The sight that greeted them sent chills down their spines. A wrecked living room. A bodyguard sprawled unconscious on the floor. A broken blade embedded in the couch. Fresh bullet holes decorating the walls. And then, they saw it. A gaping hole in the wall. For a moment, the entire second floor fell eerily silent. "...This hole… could it have been made with a fist?" Someone stammered. The others wanted to dismiss the idea—until that same person hesitantly raised an arm and slid it through the opening. Not a single word of protest followed. "A monster." No one knew who whispered it first. But everyone nodded. Even their legs were shaking as they moved. They searched the room, trying to find a tool or weapon that could have created such a hole. They found nothing. There was only one explanation— The hooded man had punched through solid concrete with his bare hand. "...At least he's gone now." "Yeah... thank god for that." Later That Night On a quiet balcony, Yukino furrowed her brows. For some time now, the wailing sirens of police cars had filled the streets, one after another, blaring endlessly. The commotion had drawn the attention of curious bystanders, disrupting the final scene she had been planning to shoot. Frowning, she picked up her phone and tapped on Haru's chat. [Did you see the police cars? Something happen over there?] His reply came almost instantly. [No idea.] Inside a car heading home, Haru set his phone down. His vision was unusually sharp tonight—every detail, every movement outside the window was clear as day. Because right in front of him, a notification hovered in his mind. [Your skill "Steel Body" has leveled up.] [Steel Body: LV 2] Raw, untamed power surged through his veins. Clenching and unclenching his fist, Haru exhaled slowly. He turned his gaze toward the cityscape beyond the car window. For the first time, he had a feeling— If he wanted to... He could probably tear down an entire building with his bare hands.