Kisaragi's secret identities have always been absurdly unreasonable.
As a celebrated con artist, he can't lie. As a silver-tongued information broker, he can't ask for payment. As a laid-back detective, he can't point out the truth.
And so the silver-tongued con artist never lies, the eloquent information broker never spells out the price, and the easygoing detective never achieves anything.
"Does the difference between truth and lies really matter? The truth can be a lie, and a lie can be the truth," says the con artist.
"If I want something, I'll get it. And in the end, you'll be the one to give me this 'gift' with your own hands. There's no room for discussion," says the information broker.
"You have to be useful, but you can't stand out too much. Like a gleaming piece of metal, you'll be picked up and discarded by those who mistake it for gold," says the detective.
They have never seen light in their lives, but a life doesn't need light in order to exist.
Theme: A life doesn't need light to exist
