He's clearly dependent on them. Part of Jade wonders if this is all an act, if this is all a story Shinjirou had concocted in order to persuade him to fund his drug habit. He doubts it; the scheme is too convoluted, too far-fetched. And he has a good idea of what Shinjirou is capable of. He's not a particularly good actor, and the emotions he's displaying feel too genuine to be something he's faking.

"Then what do they have an effect on?" That's as good a question as any, Jade supposes. Shinjirou is still hiding something. Jade had been trying to piece things together during the gaps in the conversation, but there's not exactly much time. All he knows is that Shinjirou is convinced that he's a danger, even when he has no access to weapons.

Which means this danger of his has to come from within. And that means...

For a second, Jade feels cold, then warm, adrenaline spiking through his veins. His theory should be impossible. Yet he can't think of any other reason.