The morning sky over Tokyo was overcast, mirroring the fog clouding William’s thoughts. He sat in the hospital waiting room, wearing a mask and a low-brimmed cap, trying not to draw attention. His fists were clenched on his knees, his body leaning forward—as if trying to escape the reality that awaited him.

“For Mr. William Hartford,” a young nurse called out, handing him a sealed white envelope.

William stood, taking the envelope without a word. His head was lowered, but his steps were firm as he walked out of the building. He didn’t open the results there. He knew: if this truly was a shadow war, he needed weapons—not emotions....