Aside from the minor hiccup of the earthquake, the group of guides, including Alexander, encountered no major issues and arrived safely in the Fushimi district.

"If possible, I'd like to visit Fushimi Inari Taisha; it’s the most famous site in Fushimi," voiced Chen Lu, a headphone-wearing girl. Among the other female guides, Chen Lu had been assigned the identity of a high school student by the spirit space, complete with the appropriate attire.

Similarly, Ji Ningyan presented herself as a stylish and competent office lady. Her celebrity status ensured high visibility, attracting much attention and occasional approaches from passersby. The mother-daughter duo among them resembled an ordinary housewife and her child.

The male members, dressed more casually in shirts and suits, included a particularly handsome man with gold-rimmed glasses, drawing the gaze of many women on the street.

"I'm Sam, a psychological analyst," introduced the young man with the glasses. Alexander had learned that Sam was a therapist, a high achiever from the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. He recently returned to his homeland after experiencing some misfortune, only to find himself transported to this world. Presumably, the others shared a similar backstory.

"Fushimi district, Ruihui Kindergarten, Class 7, Saeki," Ji Ningyan murmured to herself.

"Fushimi is large, and there are probably countless kindergartens. How do we find this particular one?" she questioned aloud.

"No, the kindergarten probably doesn’t exist, or at least not anymore," Alexander confidently stated.

"The vision contains a trap. If we're not careful, we could fall into a mental pitfall," he continued.

"A mental pitfall? What do you mean?" Sam asked with a curious expression.

"During the video, we were purposely shown the little girl, but we overlooked the truck. It was actually a Takkyubin delivery truck," Alexander explained, inviting Sam and others to deduce for themselves.

"A Takkyubin delivery truck? Now that you mention it, yes, it was coming toward us. I remember the logo—it was indeed from a Japanese delivery company, something like Tobu Takkyubin," Erik chimed in, recalling the details but unable to connect them further.

"Tobu Takkyubin? What does that have to do with finding this person?" asked Shu Xue, a university student clad in a pale yellow dress and sun hat, resembling a fast-food worker.

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"It's significant. Through some online research last night, I discovered the company went bankrupt seven years ago due to poor management..."

"So the problem is, the vision we saw wasn't from the present but from at least seven years ago. If we miss this detail, we'll be caught in this fallacy, and it'll be difficult to find the kindergarten," Alexander elaborated.

"I speculate the vision was shown for this purpose—it doesn't provide direct information but hints at details..."

Alexander believed this hidden script was meant for them to uncover. Without investigating the delivery company, finding the kindergarten—or worse, going to the wrong address—was likely.

"We should search in the direction of seven years ago. Otherwise, why would it give a hint about the truck?" he posited, confident in his deductions but aware verification was needed.

"Can we find a kindergarten from seven years ago?" someone voiced worry.

"But we only have the name and no address. Where do we start?" The guides were contemplating their options.

"Is it possible to check with the civil records department?"

"That wouldn't help. We need a person. The surname Saeki or the name Dorothy could easily have duplicates. We know she was a little girl seven years ago, but finding her through the registry would be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Chen Lu, familiar with Japan's current status, suggested.

"Moreover, in Japan, unlike in our country, the most common record is the 'residence card,' which is based on a person's address and includes their name, birth date, gender, and relationship to the household head. The residence card moves with one's address. If Saeki left Fushimi and moved elsewhere, it would be challenging to locate her."

"This complicates things. We might have to look for the Ruihui Kindergarten address," the newcomers concluded.

"But it's been seven years. Does the kindergarten still exist, or has it moved? Without a hacker to infiltrate administrative systems, we won’t find it," someone lamented.

Alexander shared their sentiment but remained confident in uncovering a crucial clue.

"In fact, finding the address isn't too difficult. We just need to go to the local post office."

"Right, why didn't we think of that?" The realization hit everyone. Regardless of any changes to the kindergarten’s location or address, the post office would have information.

Moreover, postal workers would likely be familiar with address details, possibly resolving the issue with a simple phone call.

"You all did well, thinking through the problem. Even when there seems to be no issue, anticipate the next step," Alexander praised, pulling out a note. "A few years ago, Ruihui Kindergarten almost went bankrupt but was merged with a private educational group. It's now part of Matsuzaka Institute, renamed Matsuzaka Kindergarten. I found the new address and the old principal, Yuuki An, yesterday."

"Then why ask us?" some newcomers grumbled, feeling like they were being toyed with.

"You can't rely on me for everything. This is a survival game, also a death game. Everyone is struggling to survive—including me. Here, no one is truly dependable; you can only trust yourself."

Alexander decided to stop lecturing, leaving it to the newcomers to understand this lesson.

If the newcomers didn’t adjust their mindset, they'd likely be the first to perish when danger struck. Without relying on oneself, nobody could save them.