I quickly scan through the newspaper I filched from the hospital receptionist's desk and the headline blares at me in big, bold print.

"Teen Idol and Secret Lover discovered together! Passionate Rendezvous In The Woods! Pictures Inside!"

Whoo, the Hero and the Idol are already making headlines. They fight right out of captivity and straight on to the front page. Is this what people in show biz call the X Factor? Come to think of it, this is probably why there's a huge crowd of sketchy looking dudes hanging outside the hospital at this very moment. I open the newspaper, more like a tabloid actually, and begin reading the article itself. The paper claims that the news is a double page super exclusive spread, but when I actually start reading, it turns out that the article is a tiny paragraph with the barest of details.

The unidentified teen idol, who going by the incredibly specific description, can only be the Idol, had been caught in the woods with her lover, a young man from an equally unidentified noble family. Of course, while the paper did not actually mention the Hero's name, it had stated that he was the Idol's "schoolmate" for inquisitive readers to play a round of guess. Oh, for added fun, the writer plastered the emblem of the von Amsterg family across the page for no reason whatsoever.

The rest of the space was taken up by a series of, thankfully censored, photos which show an ORPO squad leading out a pair of naked teens from the Heath. A handful of photos also show the pair of figures hidden by mosaic and humping in the dirt. Not X Factor, but XXX Factor. The writer then provides a helpful addendum where he informs the readers that despite ORPO's most gallant efforts, the officers were not able to find the Idol and her lover's clothes, resulting in the unfortunate loss of dignity for the pair. But what's this in the postscript? Further analysis eh? Might as well see what the pundits are saying about the matter.

Turning the page, I am disappointed once again by the fact that instead of an actual expert, the tabloid had chosen to consult an allegedly renowned "sexologist", whatever that is, on his thoughts on the whole matter. The "sexologist", I can't believe that's a legit word, claims as part of his credentials to be an "expert on the art of love, encompassing all three worlds" and has provided a helpful analysis of the pair's moral character after a thorough analysis of the unexpurgated photos provided to him.

I roll my eyes as the sexologist launches into a discussion of the Hero's dick size, proportion and, uh, texture. Apparently these factors "prove" that the Hero is a sensitive lover who has a lack of confidence in himself. He is allegedly a man that has to be nurtured by his lover and requires the attention of an equally genuine companion. Uh, OK, whatever you say man.

As far as the Idol goes, the sexologist in his professional opinion declares that she was completely lost in her own head while she was mindlessly grinding against our sensitive prince. The Idol had "a dangerously glazed expression" on her face and was "looking not at her lover, but at something else entirely".

Wow, this analyst is good. There might be something to sexology as a field of research after all. My thoughts are interrupted by the receptionist snatching the paper back from me. She neatly folds the paper and places it back on to the counter with a fastidious huff.

"For visitors only." she informs.

"I'm a visitor!" I protest. Well I'm actually here to abduct the Hero, but its technically true anyway.

"Actual visitors." the receptionist rolls her eyes, "Not vultures like you. There's no point in you hanging around here anyway, the ward is guarded twenty four hours both inside and outside."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, my hand stealthily reaching for the revolver hidden under the trench coat. My cover's broken already? Damn, that's fast. I might need to shoot my way out of here.

The receptionist's eyes zoom in on my hand disappearing into the coat. "That's not going to work." she dismissively says.

"Oh?" I calmly respond, my hand gripping the gun.

"Doesn't matter if you bribe me." the nurse explains, "I can't get you in. No nurse or doctor can either. The guards around that boy never leave."

Oh. I was really close to overreacting there. I release my grip over the revolver and lean against the reception desk.

The receptionist continues, oblivious to how close she was to being shot just now, "Paparazzi like you are all the same, trying to drag people's names in the mud for a bit of cash. You got a real reason to be here?"

"I'm not a paparazzi." I shoot back. Its the truth, you know.

"Says the man who has been scoping out the guarded private ward the last few days." the receptionist rolls her eyes, "Stop disturbing the actual patients and get out of here."

What? She shouldn't have recognized me at all. How did she do it?

The receptionist notices my confusion and gives a triumphant grin, "Surprised? I don't know who you are, but I recognized the car you drive. Black SUV right? You can blend in real well, I'll admit. But once I started paying attention to your car, actually keeping track of you was easy."

So that's how she did it. Never thought the mobile hobo base would be my undoing. I give a defeated sigh and leave the hospital without another word. As I step out into the dusk, a commotion begins to build from the pack of dudes hanging around the entrance. The men begin dumping assorted crap into a massive pile and one of the guys retrieves a jerry can from his car. Squinting, I observe that the pile of crap is made out of CDs, posters and various other pop star merchandise starring who else but the Idol. What's amazing is the sheer amount of assorted garbage some of these guys are dumping. A young man is despondently emptying several trash bags filled with CDs into the rapidly growing pile. That guy must own hundreds, no probably thousands of the Idol's CDs. In fact he looks kind of familiar.

"Is that who I think it is?" I ask The Voice for confirmation.

"Yes." The Voice confirms, "Mr Ken Matsui is experiencing a particularly dark night of the soul. The news report you were reading just now has shaken him considerably."

The pungent smell of kerosene fills the air as the guy with the jerry can begins liberally soaking the garbage pile before setting it alight. The crowd then begins shouting denunciations while passing a bull horn about.

"False idol! Shave off your hair!" some rando bleats into the bull horn to roars of approval from his comrades.

"If they wanted someone to worship," The Voice grumbles, "they should be looking at the master, not the tool."

"There, there." I console while holding back laughter. Yeah, it must suck when people pay more attention to your creation then you. My eyes then turn to Delinquent, who stands morosely at the edge of the crowd.

"Why is Delinquent out here?" I ask, "Shouldn't he be inside with the Hero?"

The Voice quickly answers, probably glad to cover its lapse in composure, "The news that the Hero and Heroine Majima have been engaging in sexual intercourse has opened up a rift in Mr Matsui's relationship with the Hero. The thought of the Hero sullying the object of his worship proved too much to bear."

"What?" I exclaim in surprise, "I thought that the Hero and Delinquent were best bros. Delinquent even fought by the Hero's side."

"An unreal friendship forged through our manipulations." The Voice dismisses, "The Hero and Mr Matsui were never going to remain friends for long. Mr Matsui is prideful you see, and the Hero's growing power has shown our delinquent his true place in the world. The mind knows, but the heart cannot accept."

"Yeah. That's true I suppose." I agree. Delinquent was meant to be a sort of friendly rival to the Hero, the conflict between them acting as a spur for the Hero's growth. Unfortunately, the Hero has outgrown Delinquent, leaving our gangster scion in the dust. Useless as both an ally and an enemy, Delinquent has been left to his own devices by both The Voice and Fate, allowing the man to find his own place in the world.

And that place is standing in a crowd of sweaty guys shouting about "whores" and "betrayal". Its scary how low someone can sink. And I get the feeling that Delinquent still has a lot more sinking to do.

"Its time to go." The Voice suddenly says.

"We still need to discuss the problem in the hospital." I respond while walking to the parking area.

"We can do that on the move." The Voice rasps, "I doubt we can accomplish much more here anyway."

"Gallant's sister dearest and her henchwoman are sallying forth once again?" I snort while getting into the SUV.

"Making the usual nuisance of themselves." The Voice confirms as the SUV starts up and drives off into the scanty traffic, "But like you said, there's a bigger problem we need to discuss."

"Transmigrator, I cannot perceive the Hero. At all."