Chapter Seven: Roland’s Stroke of Luck

“Ah, ah, ah!”
The yellow-haired man’s agonized wail was cut short halfway by Roland’s next kick.
“You’re a man, aren’t you? To cry so much over this pain—how will you handle what comes next? The torment I endure is many times greater than yours, yet I strive to maintain my composure. You should learn from me.”
Roland extended his hand, displaying it to the yellow-haired man. In the dim, flickering light, his nails appeared as if they were fresh shoots, slowly but resolutely growing before the eye.
“Incredible, isn’t it? I trimmed my nails just yesterday, and today they’ve already grown three centimeters. But that’s inevitable. With so many clients visiting every day, I always encounter a few who suit my taste. Watching their backs as they leave, I find myself constantly wanting to follow them.”
Roland spread his long nails, a testament to the mounting pressure within his heart.
“I can’t count how many times I’ve planned it all in my mind: follow them home, evade their gaze, force my way inside, then perform my specialty, and finally, succeed.”
“But every time, I held myself back. To compensate for my restless desires, I had to act like a pervert and spend precious money customizing molds of my own hands, leaving me unable to afford a new house. If it attracted attention, it would violate all my principles for living.”
He withdrew his hand and gazed coldly at the yellow-haired man, who could no longer even cry out, then stomped down hard.
“Because I see this as a trial. To grow, one must overcome oneself.”
“And you, scum like you, waste my precious time, forcing me to expose emotions I’ve been suppressing. How will you repay me?”
Roland, uncharacteristically furious, bellowed out words that drowned all pleas and cries of despair.
“Killer Queen—First Bomb!”
Amid the fiery explosion, Roland crushed the human-shaped ashes at his feet, took a moment to catch his breath, then summoned his Stand with a blank expression and began cleaning up the remaining traces.
Before Killer Queen, what ought to have been a tedious task became effortless.
His nails finally ceased their growth. Though this scoundrel’s hand was unworthy of becoming a trophy, Roland felt a long-lost sense of relief during the act.
Aside from the Stand’s influence in erasing threats for the sake of a peaceful life, the reason for venting his stress in such a manner came from within. Today’s events were merely an unnecessary spark.

A person’s life does not belong solely to himself.
Before acquiring the Key of All Spirits, in his original world, probably during middle school, Roland lost both his parents in a traffic accident.
Amidst the waves of loss and grief, Roland suddenly realized something even more terrifying:
He had no one left to rely on. Although he never encountered troublesome relatives and the inheritance his parents left was enough for him to live comfortably into adulthood, the anxiety of watching the numbers dwindle day by day was unimaginable for his younger self.
To survive better, to avoid being caught unprepared by sudden disasters, he had to carefully weigh the consequences of every action.
Crossing worlds—a miracle countless people yearn for, even willing to trade everything to achieve.
But crossing alone is a gamble with one’s life.
He could only rely on himself, only trust himself. Roland, mentally stretched to the limit, had expended too much energy during this period.
To prevent the Stand from affecting him, he suppressed himself too much. But only just now did he realize: besides the Stand’s influence, his own heart was also being held back by reason.
After all, the Stand merely bestowed extra traits. The real decisions were his own. The way to maintain a peaceful life was, naturally, his to define.
The Key of All Spirits made it clear: he was the Stand’s master, the one holding the chain.
Previously, Roland had fallen into the trap of inherited knowledge. In the original story, Yoshikage Kira desired a life free of ripples, always yielding to his boss’s curses or a rogue’s pestering, so Roland subconsciously imitated him.
But such tranquility was not what Roland wanted. He did appreciate a stable life, but he would never want to wrong himself.
“What a joke. It’s one thing to make sacrifices for a greater goal, but to hesitate even before common scum like this, to let my pride bow to others, to always passively wait for disaster before acting—this is hardly tranquility.”
Noticing his own contradictions, for the first time since arriving in this world, Roland felt a surge of pure joy.
“Honestly, what a roundabout path I’ve taken…”
At this moment, he lifted his head and gazed at the dark yet clear night sky, feeling an unusual sense of relaxation and peace.

Until the next Stand appears, until he fully assimilates Yoshikage Kira, he will continue to maintain this tranquil life: steady work, steady rest, swiftly avoiding troublesome matters and decisively erasing unease, no matter who it involves.
In short, anyone who disturbs this peace, anyone who makes me uneasy, must die!
Stepping over the ashes long since scattered by the wind, having erased all bloodstains and excess traces, Roland walked to the spot where the yellow-haired man had been drinking alone. Just as he was about to clear the contents of the man’s bag, a document folder stood out among the beer cans and convenience store snacks.
“What’s this? A deed?”
Taking out the document, Roland glanced through it quickly. The old residence, apparently up for sale, had all the relevant information laid out in detail.
A large estate composed of traditional Japanese houses, including a tool shed and a spacious garden, situated in a quiet area, uninhabited, already given a basic cleaning. Though the garden had some weeds, it was perfectly suitable for short-term living.
Several key phrases in the description caught Roland’s attention, and upon seeing the floor plan, he couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
Just when he was at his most perplexed, troubled by overspending on his hand mold and lacking the budget to find a place in the old capital, a turning point appeared immediately.
Is this the power of good fortune?
Roland recalled the ability he had neglected. Clearly, he had underestimated it. Yoshikage Kira had repeatedly escaped misfortune thanks to coincidence and luck. If not for his inability to accept leaving Morioh, he wouldn’t have met such a tragic end.
So this is how it is for the lucky ones—not that they are free from crisis, but that whenever danger arises, they always manage to avoid harm and gain some benefit.
Replacing the deed in the bag, Roland felt no attachment and headed deeper into the alley. With this, he wouldn’t need to spend time tonight jotting down details of suitable rental apartments on his way home. Though he wasted a bit of time on the road, all things considered, he would still enjoy a full night’s sleep.
“Well, it seemed everything was going wrong these past two days, but in the end, luck is still on my side.”
Roland smiled as he walked toward the dawn of his new life.