Chapter Nineteen: Hypnotic Brainwashing

“Hmm, what’s going on? The equipment isn’t broken! Damn, the boss is terrifying—he took down the Wolf King with a single strike.”

The technician in the communications room restarted one of the monitors and saw the screen flicker back to life. The footage from the prison cell reappeared. Only a brief moment had passed during the reboot. In the frame, the Wolf King lay collapsed in a pool of blood, while Sun Siyu was cradled in Inoue Izumi’s arms.

He naturally assumed that the Wolf King had been killed by Inoue Izumi.

Sensing the camera in the cell move slightly, Inoue Izumi glanced toward the lens.

The technician gently shook the joystick, causing the camera to shift in response to Inoue Izumi’s questioning gaze.

Inoue Izumi reached down to look at Sun Siyu, then glanced once more at the camera before stepping toward the door.

“Lady Mariko, the boss is bringing the primary casualty over for emergency treatment,” the technician said, taking out his phone to call the head of the Iga medical unit.

On the far right side of the island, nestled within a forest, stood the island’s only multi-story building—a four-story hospital. This was Iga’s medical facility, dedicated to treating injured members. Only officially inducted members of Iga could receive treatment here; those who had not passed the trials were not granted entry.

Each floor of the four-story building differed in quality, with higher floors offering superior medical care, more skilled attending physicians, and attentive nurses.

Since everyone here was part of the same group, treatment was free. Thus, the higher the floor, the better the medications and care provided.

Only Iga’s core members were permitted on the fourth floor. The chief physician here, also the floor’s director, was known as the “Ghost Hand”—Akazaki Mariko. The nickname referred not to her combat skills, but to her surgical prowess: swift, precise, and legendary. It was said that anyone not truly dead could be saved by her “ghostly hands.”

Of course, to avoid wasting resources, Mariko would occasionally visit the third floor when in a good mood.

When Inoue Izumi entered carrying Sun Siyu and headed straight for the fourth floor, everyone present was stunned, speculating about the child’s identity. How had such a young boy earned the right to be carried to the top floor by the core member?

“Lady Mariko, he’s here,” said several nurses waiting at the stairwell with a mobile bed, addressing Mariko, who sat nearby sipping coffee.

“All right, begin the procedure,” she replied, finishing her coffee in one gulp, wiping her lips with a napkin, and slowly approaching the patient on the bed.

“Remove his clothes.”

Mariko observed the blood-soaked garments clinging to the child’s body.

The nurses didn’t yet know where Sun Siyu’s wounds were. Before arriving, Inoue Izumi had used his own jacket to bandage the boy’s injuries roughly. As they cut through the jacket, they were shocked to see several deep claw marks etched into his skin.

This was a child who appeared no older than ten, bearing such severe wounds—and many of them. Other parts of his body showed both fresh and old injuries.

These nurses were experienced and had seen all manner of casualties. After a moment of shock, they composed themselves and skillfully began removing debris from Sun Siyu’s body with scissors and forceps.

...

After the surgery, Akazaki Mariko brought a cup of tea to Inoue Izumi, who stood by the window.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the cup.

“And this child?” Mariko asked thoughtfully, glancing at Sun Siyu lying on the bed.

“A boy with great potential,” Inoue Izumi replied, lifting the cup to inhale the tea’s aroma and smiling faintly at Sun Siyu.

“You want him to be your successor?”

Mariko hadn’t seen Inoue Izumi smile in years. From the moment he carried Sun Siyu upstairs, she had already guessed his intentions. She had no doubts about his choice. Despite his grave injuries, his heartbeat remained steady—this child indeed had promise.

“Subject him to hypnotic brainwashing,” Inoue Izumi said quietly after taking a sip of tea.

“Hypnotic brainwashing? Is that necessary?” Mariko raised her finely arched eyebrows. Such a young child should know nothing yet. After brainwashing, he would live immersed in memories implanted by the hypnotist.

“He will undertake a critical mission in the future. It must be done. From today on, his name is Kurohane Itsuki—an orphan.”

Inoue Izumi returned the cup to Mariko, clasped his hands behind his back, and headed toward the stairs, descending.

Brainwashing was a required procedure for Iga members assigned to espionage missions. It installed a safety trigger in their minds: if discovered during a mission, certain memories would be sealed away, preventing interrogation from extracting any information. This protected Iga and could save the agent’s life.

Later, thanks to the medical genius Akazaki Mariko’s research on brainwashing Iga’s secretaries, hypnotic brainwashing was developed, allowing long-term alteration of the subject’s memories.

After successful secret trials, Inoue Izumi classified hypnotic brainwashing as forbidden knowledge, sealing it away. Only Mariko and Izumi knew of its existence. The “test subject” had shown no abnormalities to this day.

The potential consequences of tampering with human memory were unimaginable. If leaked, Iga would face utter ruin. That was why Inoue Izumi had never authorized Mariko to use it—until now.

Mariko returned to Sun Siyu’s room, dismissed the nurses, locked the door, and drew the curtains.

She took out a detector and thoroughly scanned the entire room. Although this was Iga’s territory, and all were allies, caution was paramount. This technique was forbidden—no one could learn of it.

After completing these preparations, Mariko knelt beside Sun Siyu’s bed and pressed a button on a nearby device to awaken him.

As Sun Siyu’s eyes fluttered open groggily, Mariko extended her long, pale hands before his eyes, moving them rapidly in intricate patterns to dazzle him while whispering softly into his ear.

...

At dawn, Akazaki Mariko yawned and stepped out of Sun Siyu’s room.

Inside, Sun Siyu remained asleep, still receiving nutritional fluids through an IV.

One month later.

“Faster, faster! Only the first-place finisher gets dinner,” shouted a burly man wielding a whip.

On the beach, five children in camouflage vests ran along the shoreline, each carrying a log taller than themselves. Their bodies were covered with scars—some fresh, some old. The man chased after them, urging them onward.