The next day, early morning.
Kitahara Sota woke up as usual. Washed, dressed, and went to the cafeteria for breakfast.
Only—unlike before, after eating, he didn’t head for the training grounds. Instead, he stopped by the Student Council room first.
Then he returned to his dorm, flopped onto the bed, his expression gradually sinking into melancholy.
Ah… so bored.
Sure, he had agreed last night to Kudou Kazuya’s request. But the meeting was set for noon, and breakfast had only just ended. Too early.
Normally at this time, he would’ve already said his greetings to the girls, pulled out his phone at the training grounds, and slacked off.
But now, though technically he could slack in the dorm…
The problem was, only Eclipse was here with him. Who was he supposed to slack for?
And for various reasons, he didn’t even feel like fiddling with his phone.
After lying there a while, he thought maybe he should just take another nap. Sleep straight through to noon.
But just as he shut his eyes—he felt something soft and familiar land on top of him.
No need to open his eyes. Just from that softness, that warmth, he knew Eclipse had crawled onto him again.
Realizing this, Kitahara didn’t hold back. He pinched her cheeks the way he always did, squishing them back and forth.
The little black rice-ball in his arms didn’t react. She let him knead her face while closing her eyes. Before long, her breathing had slowed, steady in sleep.
Kitahara, watching her, thought to drift off too.
But when he opened his eyes again and saw her calm sleeping face, sleepiness left him.
Not because her sleeping face was cute and set off any wicked ideas.
But because—looking at her, his mind flashed to that Uma Musume he’d once met in the hospital, Clover. And the story he had heard about her and Kudou Kazuya.
He couldn’t help but think: If it had been me… if Eclipse had ended up like that, wounded while saving me… what would I have done?
But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t picture Eclipse hurt, couldn’t imagine her “falling.”
Regular Uma Musume, yes. Before full development, accidents happened.
But once grown, after maturation was complete—their physical strength was such that even being hit by a car wouldn’t usually harm them, unless it was insanely fast or a massive truck.
And Eclipse—since the very day he’d met her, she’d been able to casually take down even a fully-formed Uma Musume. Ordinary traffickers? Forget it.
Even if Kitahara strained to simulate it, the “worst-case” was only Eclipse going musou-mode in the street, tearing the traffickers apart.
And even that assumed he cooperated with the traffickers.
Otherwise, even he alone could have dealt with them.
So the scenario simply didn’t hold.
Then, he tried another.
What if—back when he was in Special Week’s countryside, without Eclipse by his side—he was abducted?
And Special Week, rushing to save him, ended up grievously injured, trapped in the same kind of fate as Clover?
What would he do then?
Kitahara thought.
He’d probably react just as Kudou had.
Stay by her side without pause. Care for her with all his strength. Likely even choose the trainer’s path, to help her fulfill the dream she could no longer reach.
But unlike Kudou, he wouldn’t torture himself over: “I ruined one life already, I can’t ruin another.”
Clover had chosen, willingly, to save Kudou. She had never once regretted it.
And Kudou had done everything possible afterward. The guilt was misplaced—the ones to blame were the traffickers, not him.
So no—Kitahara didn’t believe in this talk of “ruining someone’s life.”
If anything, he felt—they had simply chosen each other. And held firm to that choice ever since.
So while he could understand Kudou’s pain, he didn’t agree with how he handled it.
And if Kudou had truly entered the “black market” from that guilt, acting out of a need to “atone”…
Kitahara, kneading the little rice-ball in his arms, sighed.
Honestly, he didn’t know how to judge Kudou’s actions.
Especially since his own hands weren’t exactly clean. He had no right to judge.
But—he didn’t need to.
Once, alone, he had only his own methods for surviving danger.
But now—his only duty was to uncover the truth.
The rest…
Kitahara decided firmly.
Let Tracen and the URA handle it.
Time slid quickly in its calm.
…
Noon. Tracen cafeteria.
Kudou Kazuya sat in a corner, watching Kitahara Sota’s calm face across the table, expression caught between strange and awkward.
Last night, when Kitahara agreed, they had set the meeting at an izakaya outside campus.
Kudou knew Kitahara’s cautious nature. He expected Kitahara might change the location last-minute.
But he hadn’t expected this: Kitahara had moved it into the cafeteria.
It wasn’t impossible, but—something so serious, transplanted here—
It felt like two national leaders sitting on a roadside stone block, cracking sunflower seeds while swapping nuclear codes. Peculiar.
Kudou’s expression was odd. Kitahara’s was perfectly righteous.
What was wrong with the cafeteria?
Enough people around. Identity checks at the entrance. Safer from poisoning the food.
Even if he didn’t believe Kudou meant him harm—better safe than sorry.
He’d even put on a bulletproof vest, borrowed off the Tracen security team, and asked Symboli Rudolf to keep watch at a distance.
Most importantly—with Eclipse’s appetite, if he brought her to a “proper” restaurant, even now, it would bankrupt him.
So even sensing Kudou’s intended implication, Kitahara insisted on the cafeteria.
Status, prestige? Can’t be eaten. Practicality rules.
That was Kitahara’s philosophy.
After a beat of silence, Kitahara spoke first.
“So, Kudou-senpai. What is it you wanted to tell me?”
At the question, Kudou sobered, pulled out his phone.
“There’s something I want to ask your help with…”
“Just say it, Senpai.” Kitahara’s voice was steady.
Kudou hesitated, tapped a few words on the screen, then began.
“I’ve been reaching out to some contacts, to ask if they’re interested in dealing with the Black Forest. They said yes—but first, they want to meet the person in charge…”
As he spoke, he rotated the phone.
Onscreen were two fresh lines of text, not yet “confirmed”:
[Some people are planning to target Tracen HQ’s students. I’d like your help keeping watch]
[Also, I suspect you’re running recording equipment right now, so this is the only way I can say it. Please understand]
Even before this, Kitahara had guessed Kudou might be preparing to reveal himself.
But such open-handedness still surprised him.
At the same time, he felt a pang of regret.
It was normal for Kudou to notice recording. If he hadn’t, he never could have kept his cover so long.
But leaving the words unconfirmed? That was a waste.
Confirmed text left traces in input logs—recoverable. With cafeteria cameras, that could have been evidence. Now, nothing.
Kitahara eyed him.
Old fox.
Then he asked evenly:
“So, Kudou-senpai—where exactly did you hear this?”
Since Kudou had revealed himself, Kitahara didn’t bother with courtesy.
Kudou’s lips moved as if to deny—but his phone text was frank:
[No need to test me. We both know where my intel comes from]
[But this time is different. The ‘buyer’ contacted me first]
Kitahara blinked. Surprised at Kudou’s honesty, but also frowning.
“They came to you? Meaning you don’t know who they are?”
[Yes. Very cautious. Never revealed a thing]
“And he dares target Tracen HQ students? And there are sellers willing to take that job?”
[…]
Kudou paused.
[The buyer’s requests are odd. He strictly forbids sellers from harming the Uma Musume. He himself doesn’t plan to harm or imprison them]
[Three days. He says he only needs them for three days, then he’ll return them safe. Guarantees no trouble for Tracen or the Three Goddesses]
“Nice talk. What actual guarantees?”
[None. But sellers chose to believe]
[Because the buyer pays outrageously well. And claims there’s no risk. Even offered strong, safe anesthetics, specifically for Uma Musume]
Kitahara tapped the table, frowning.
“So then—when the sellers move, why not just tip Tracen? Let Akikawa-san raid them directly?”
[Impossible]
[The buyer already suspects me. He’s cut off contact. Now he plans to speak directly with the sellers, directing the operation himself]
[If I interfere, he’ll confirm my betrayal, sever ties completely. We’ll never trace him again]
Kitahara’s brow twitched.
“So the whole Black Market is full of people like you?”
Kudou’s face grew pained. He typed:
[I’d like to answer, but honestly—I don’t know]
[Yes, you must have suspected me months ago. You guessed right: I am part of the Black Market. But my knowledge is limited]
[Not because I’m “low-ranking.” Actually, my status inside isn’t low. I’ve been part of it a long time]
[But the Market isn’t a normal organization. Identities are hidden. Members rarely interact. I don’t know who else they are, or what their motives may be]
Kitahara stared a long moment. His expression turned… peculiar.
What was with this guy today?
Always so cautious. And now—spilling everything?
Kudou caught his doubt, and typed again:
[Simple. Because I trust you]
[I hadn’t told you before—no good chance, and I feared you wouldn’t believe me]
[Now, you’ve surely uncovered enough to lock onto me anyway. And I need your help. So better to just confess everything]
[And not only this—if you have more questions, anything I know, I’ll answer]
Kitahara’s eyebrow rose.
“Anything you know, you’ll answer?”
[Yes]
Kudou nodded.
“Good.”
Kitahara sat up straighter. Locked eyes with him.
And through Kudou’s uneasy look, ground out each word:
“Then, Kudou-senpai, answer me this.”
“In all the past years—sixty-eight Uma Musume trafficking incidents. Why is it that I, alone, was present for sixty-four?”
“Oh, wait—counting this upcoming one, that makes sixty-nine. I alone, at sixty-five.”
He leaned closer, his voice like iron, syllables hammering down:
“Do you have any clue about that, Kudou-senpai?”
—
This is a fan translation of 人在特雷森，专职摆烂 by 多功能复读机 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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