Chapter 2

In This Twilight World -broken chronograph- 1. The Black Cat Running and the Gray Girl The black cat ran. It was a spectacular dash. The cat slipped through narrow alleys, leaped over fences, and jumped onto the awnings of street stalls. This corner was nicknamed Market Medley—originally meant as a dedicated space for an open bazaar held once a month, but constant haphazard extension and reconstruction of the surrounding buildings had eventually rendered it a giant maze. For someone unfamiliar with the area, just walking through the neighborhood would get them lost, but the feline ran straight through with all its might. Why was it running? To escape. From what was it escaping? A hunter. “Hold! It! Right! Theeeeeeere!” The girl chasing her prey screamed. She pushed through the narrow alleys, passed over fences, tumbled from atop the awnings of street stalls (evoking the shopkeepers’ ire every time). Her chilly blue eyes were fixed relentlessly forward, focused on nothing but the black cat’s receding tail. The girl looked plain. She wore a large mouse-gray hat low over her eyes and a coat of the same color. The outfit had likely been selected so as not to stand out, but it wasn’t much use when she was yelling at the top of her lungs and running with all her strength. “I! Told! You! To! Waaait!” As she ran, her passing kicked up flurries of dust, knocked over empty paint cans, and had her coat flapping wildly in the wind behind her. An orc grocer, a lizardfolk rug maker, a lycanthrope passerby. So many kinds of people. They all turned wide-eyed to watch the girl as she bolted through the town. Then the black cat suddenly stopped. “I got yooouuu!” Thinking this was her chance, the girl leaped forward. Perhaps the cat sensed her drawing closer, because in that moment, it turned toward her. Something in its mouth glinted silver. The girl outstretched both arms and collided with her quarry head-on, finally catching the black cat. But then she suddenly felt an unnatural sensation of floating. There was nothing below her. “Huh?” Market Medley was intricately tangled together, with no distinction between any directions. It was not odd for a flat road to suddenly arrive at the roof of an apartment complex. “What?” She could see the blue sky. White clouds dotted it here and there. Still clinging to the black cat, the girl flew through the empty space, nowhere to grab. Straight below her, she saw Tin Stalls Street, No. 7, West. There were roughly four stories between her and the narrow street below, lined with stalls that mostly dealt in pots and knives. “Nooo…!” The girl strained her body. A faint phosphorescence surrounded her small frame. Someone with the gift of Sight might have been able to see the venenum inside her trying to burst into flame. They would also have noticed that whatever she was trying to do with that magic would not be ready in time. Magic was like fire. Not much could be done with small sparks, but large, roaring flames meant it was possible to wield great power—that being said, it took time and energy to stoke a fire that big. Magic wasn’t well-suited for something that required quick reaction times. The girl and the cat began falling. The light peeled from the girl’s body, hanging fruitlessly in the air before quickly disappearing. There was no time for her to scream. The cobbled streets that had seemed so far below quickly grew larger in her vision. She unconsciously tensed her arms. The black cat cried in distress. She squeezed both eyes shut. As the ground drew closer— A girl was falling from the sky. She seemed around the age of a young teenager. Apparently, she’d taken a plunge from quite high up and had already picked up a lot of speed. At the rate she was going, her drop would end with a crash into the cobbled street, an outcome ill-befitting such a peaceful early afternoon. That was the scene that filled his mind the moment he absently gazed upward. His body moved on its own. He rushed to the spot where she would land and spread his arms wide to catch her. But the body came down with more force than he’d expected, and it wasn’t something Willem’s weakened arms could support. The result was obvious. “Gah!!” In a flash, he broke her fall and was pinned beneath her, croaking like a squished frog. “…Owww…,” he groaned in a voice squeezed from his gut. A few seconds later, the girl seemed to finally realize what had happened, and she hurriedly jumped off. “I-I’m sorry!! A-are you hurt?! Are you alive?! Are your insides still inta— Oh.” A single black cat leaped from her flailing arms. She reflexively reached out, but her hands caught nothing but air. As she looked on in shock, the small animal disappeared into the crowd. “Aaaaaahhhh!!” Following her outburst, the girl realized how she appeared. Maybe it had been when she was running at top speed or during her free fall, but the hat she’d been wearing was gone. Bright cerulean hair hung down below her shoulders. “—Hey, look at her.” She could hear those whispers coming from somewhere. Shopkeepers and passersby alike on Tin Stalls Street, No. 7, West stopped in place, putting their business aside to turn their collective focus to the girl’s hair and face. Various races once kin to the Visitors lived on Regule Aire. Naturally, they all sported different appearances. Some had horns, or fangs, or scales, along with a healthy arrangement of diverse animal parts on their faces. But among them, there were people who didn’t have horns, fangs, scales—without any traits that resembled animals at all. Though there were only a few of them, they did exist. Those races without easily identifiable “features” were colloquially called “featureless.” “Why is she here?” “Tch, that’s bad luck for the day.” “Oh…” The featureless were typically treated as outcasts. This was due to their likeness to the legendary race of the emnetwiht, which was responsible for devastating the surface and forcing all living things into the sky long ago. The most fundamental doctrine in magical thought stated that similar outward resemblance naturally indicated similar characteristics. By this logic, most considered the featureless to be unlucky and impure. While open persecution was uncommon, there wasn’t much they could do about their inferior treatment. Moreover, there was an unfortunate truth that had nothing to do with the girl but nonetheless exacerbated the situation. The previous mayor of this town had been the very picture of a corrupt politician. It began with bribery, then progressed to cover-ups of coercion and crime, eventually culminating in the assassination of political rivals. Throughout its history as a notoriously corrupt city, a great many people and things had been victimized. In the end, the central parliament had conducted an investigation and exiled the mayor from the island. Following that, everyone had lived happily ever after…but it was there that the fact the disgraced mayor had been an imp became a problem. Imps were a type of ogre that once upon a time lived in secret among the emnetwiht to entice their victims into depravity, so the imps similarly had no horns or fangs or scales—featureless. Now whenever the townspeople saw one of the featureless, they couldn’t help but recall the anger and animosity they bore toward the previous mayor. It was a terrible thing. As one might have expected, no one openly persecuted the featureless. Yet, the thorny gazes that encircled and clung to the young girl could hardly be called pleasant. “I—I know…I’ll be gone soon…” As though she was being chased out by their stares, the girl stood as she prepared to flee that place. But she couldn’t. Willem, who was still lying on his back, had wrapped his hand around the girl’s wrist. “Wha…?” “You’re forgetting something.” He pointed to the hand he wasn’t gripping. The girl slowly presented her open palm, and he dropped a small brooch into it. “Oh.” “That little kitty dropped it. Were you after this?” She nodded twice. “Thank…you.” Hesitating, she cupped both hands around the brooch and took it. “Are you new around here?” The girl nodded again. “…I see. Guess it can’t be helped.” Willem stood, removing his cloak and throwing it over the girl without even asking. With his hood gone, his own identity was revealed to the onlookers. The prickling gazes and hum of voices fell on Willem this time. “Wha…?” No one can see exactly how they look to others. But of course, Willem was quite aware of his own appearance. He knew exactly what was drawing the stares of the assemblage—and the girl staring blankly up at him from under his cloak. He was a typical young man with messy black hair. Without horns or fangs or scales. “Let’s go.” He pulled the girl’s hand and trod off at a trot. “Wha-wha-wha—?” The girl let out a confused stammer, failing to fully grasp the situation but still following him quickly. Before long, they were gone. “…All right. This should be good enough.” They entered a nearby hat shop and purchased the nearest hat. He plopped it down on the girl’s head. It did seem a little big for her, but it suited her much better than he thought. Willem nodded, satisfied, and retrieved his cloak. “U-um, this is…?” Having done everything she was told up to that point, the girl questioned him with some hesitation. “No one will know you’re featureless if you wear that.” Featureless people like Willem and the girl were typically shunned but not generally hated or despised, and they weren’t treated that way, either. After all, it was their distinct lack of outward peculiarities that proved what they were. As long as they didn’t stand out too much, there wouldn’t be much fuss. “I don’t know which floating island you’re from, but they don’t really like featureless around these parts. Hurry up and finish your business here and go home. The port is thataway.” He pointed farther down the road. “I can drag you over there if you’re worried about your safety.” “Um, th-that’s not exactly it.” Willem was a good height for his age while the girl across from him was small. Plus, the hat he’d just put on her head had a wide brim—in short, he couldn’t see her face. It was perfect for a disguise, but they couldn’t see each other, which was obstructing their communication at the moment. “You’re…featureless?” “Yup. Just as you saw.” He nodded slightly under his hood. “Why is a featureless here in a semifer neighborhood? This island is the harshest place in the whole southwest corner of Regule Aire, you know.” “Home is where you make it. Yeah, there are a lot of inconveniences, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it… But if you knew that already, why did you come here, then?” “That’s, um…” She faltered. He would have felt like he was pressuring her if she ended up falling silent here. He clicked his tongue softly enough that she wouldn’t hear, then said, “This way,” and walked off. But the girl didn’t follow. “What’s wrong? I’m gonna leave you behind.” “U-um.” Her face still half hidden behind the hat, she spoke with a desperate tone. “Thank you for all you’ve done. And I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble. And…and I know now’s not really right for me to ask for even more, but, um…” “…Oh.” He scratched his head. “Is there somewhere you want to go? Tell me.” The girl’s face beamed—or at least, he thought it did. He could only see the bottom half, so it was hard to tell. The roads around Market Medley were hard to navigate. The streets didn’t necessarily lead to the places visible in the distance. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to end up lost after making detour after detour. A tower of junk was the highest point on the island. Willem and the girl finally arrived there after wandering around, their footsteps clanking loudly on the cheap metal slabs that carpeted the ground. Despite claiming to be a local, Willem’s knowledge of the area helped only the tiniest bit. They asked a public golem for directions, then stumbled upon a supposedly three-way road that actually split into a five-way road. Willem ended up clutching his head in confusion as he pulled back all the curtains in the area only to come across a frogger bathing, then was subsequently chased off by a runaway bull. After racing left and right to avoid it, they somehow ended up falling into the roof of a chicken hut. Their landing broke it, so they apologized to the screaming ballman as they made a quick escape. “Ah-ha-ha-ha, what a trip!” The girl spoke more comfortably and familiarly as they ran about the town. It was hard to tell if that was her true personality or if she’d just gotten carried away during the whole experience, but at the very least, she looked more her age now compared to how withdrawn she had been earlier. Then— “Woooow.” Her admiration was audible as she leaned over the railings that seemed like they were built only as an afterthought. It was a good view. From such a high perch, the town that was normally a complete mess when examined up close now seemed more like a minutely detailed pattern. Because they expanded organically and were never particularly planned out, the streets twisted and turned wildly. But looking at them from overhead, the mass almost resembled a real living animal. Slightly farther in the distance lay the harbor. A portion of the floating island’s edge was covered in metal and furnished with everything necessary for airships to come and go, serving as the doorway to the patch of land. And spreading out beyond it, of course, was a deep blue sky. They were up in the air. The world once called the earth was far and, in many ways, out of reach. Hundreds of massive slabs of stone hovered in the sky, shuffled about aimlessly by the wind. These small bits of earth, called “floating islands,” were the extent of the world where “people” could live. “…Is something wrong?” The girl peered up at Willem’s face. “No, it’s nothing. It’s just that the blue of the sky sunk into my eyes or something like that.” He shook his head slightly, and his usual soft smile appeared again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The girl chuckled, glanced around to make sure there was no one else around, and removed her hat. “Is this what you wanted to see?” “Yes. I’ve seen the islands before from farther up and farther away, but I’ve never looked down on the town from inside it until now.” She must be from one of the outer islands, he thought after hearing her response. “I wanted to see this at least once. Mm-hmm. My dream came true, I made good memories—so I don’t think I have any regrets left.” That’s an ominous thing to say, he thought. “Thank you for everything today. So many wonderful things happened. And it’s all thanks to you.” “That’s a bit over the top.” He scratched the back of his head. To Willem, he felt like he’d just accompanied a strange kitten he’d found on a street corner for a stroll. He just happened to have some free time, so he’d acted on a whim he normally would’ve ignored. It felt a little uncomfortable to receive sincere thanks for such a minor thing. “…So is that guy here for you?” “Huh?” He motioned behind her with his gaze. The girl turned around, and a small “ah” escaped her lips. Her expression became clouded with surprise and guilt. At some point, a lizardfolk with a massive frame had appeared. This scale-covered race was unique in that individual physique varied greatly from person to person, even more so than in any other race. While most didn’t differ much when compared to other races, there were rarer cases of lizardfolk who reached maturity while still the size of what would normally be expected of a small child in other races, while others were born the size of a Goliath, as though it was some sort of joke. The lizardfolk in front of them was clearly one of the latter. For some reason, the newcomer wore a military uniform and was giving off waves of pressure despite only standing there. “—Yes, that’s right. The memories I made felt like a dream, but time’s up.” The girl spun around. “I just have one last thing to ask you before I go. I’d appreciate it if you forgot about me.” Then she ran off to stand beside the lizardfolk. What’s up with that? Willem knew there must be something going on. But she didn’t seem like she was particularly pained by the situation (appearances aside). That meant there was no reason for him to say anything. Once its owner turned up, there was no need to walk with the kitten anymore. The girl nodded her head one last time, then she and the lizardfolk disappeared into the crowd below. “…She’s puny lined up next to that guy,” Willem murmured to himself as he watched them leave. He could hear the clock chimes signal the arrival of evening, echoing from the distant harbor district. “Guess it’s time already.” He had made plans to meet someone around this hour. His assumption was that it would still be a while, but it seemed like he didn’t have much of a wait left. Well, he couldn’t stay alone like this forever. He looked down at the town and the sky spreading out beyond it one more time, then Willem, too, disappeared into the crowd. It has been 526 years since the race of emnetwiht went extinct. What happened on that land back then? No accurate records remain. The many chronicles of the time only detail arbitrary “truth,” and it’s a baffling question as to which relays the actual truth or whether they are all nothing but fantasies by future historians. However, there are several circumstances that all the chronicles have in common. As the story goes, the land at the time was very cruel to the emnetwiht race. There were a great number of them, but the way they mushroomed across the land and flourished may have been the source of their downfall. Many wild monsters threatened them. Bands of demons and devils enticed them down the path of corruption. They were constantly clashing with orcs and elves over territorial disputes. Cursed mutants called ogres were born from the emnetwiht themselves, emerging to attack their neighbors. In the end, the mighty Visitors even apparently commanded their kin to attack them. The story continued. The emnetwiht race was certainly not strong. They possessed neither scales, nor fangs or claws. Not even any wings. They lacked the capacity to wield powerful sorcery, nor could they master intricate wizardry. Even when it came to fertility, they were absolutely no match for the orcs of their time. And yet, they still controlled almost the entire world. According to one recording, the two things that played a big role in enhancing their military might were people known as Adventurers, experts in invasion tactics, and the power of the Alliance, which generalized and supported their activities. By dividing classes up, their society streamlined group warfare. By giving labels to the diverse set of talents, they also streamlined the management and growth of Adventurers. As a result, emnetwiht even managed to seal powerful yet scarce magic into talismans and mass-produce them. With the ability to “raise” themselves objectively, Adventurers grew at an unparalleled rate compared to the average, quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with. According to another account, there were also military powers called Braves among the emnetwiht, which were different from the Adventurers. They were a group of people who could convert the karma and fate within their souls to raw power, displaying magnificent strength that knew practically no bounds. Their only weakness was that only a very small number of chosen people could become Braves, which meant their existence was rare. Yet another legend spoke of a set of holy weapons called the Carillon that also exhibited great power. It was said that they put ten or so powerful talismans together to create the shape of a sword. In essence, the power stored in each talisman interacted in a complicated manner to transform into a weapon of war that possessed incredible destructive capabilities. All those stories are absurd. None are easy to believe. But it’s true that the emnetwiht were the supreme rulers of the land at that time. For that, there was no doubt they needed strength to defeat their few yet powerful enemies. In other words, there were likely one or two truths mixed into those stories. Five hundred and twenty-seven years ago. In a castle that stood at the center of emnetwiht territory within the Holy Empire, they appeared. In the end, no one knew what they were. Neither does anyone know what they are now. The many partial chronicles weave whimsical tales as to what they might have been. Stories of colossal cursed crystals born from emnetwiht spells. Stories of secret weapons of massacre used by the emnetwiht against the demiraces that went out of control. Stories of, for one reason or another, the lid on hell opening and everything inside seeping out. Stories of automated world purifiers awakening, after sleeping in the depths of the abyss since the beginning of time. The majority were the writers simply putting their fantasies to paper half for their own amusement, with very few actually attempting to reach the truth. At any rate, the world was ending. No matter what the truth happened to be, it would not change the reality that they were a threat out of control. Even if the truth was proven to be something like “A single tomato got mixed up in a potato field, couldn’t handle the loneliness, and evolved into a being beyond our understanding,” what effect would that have had on their daily lives? But they were invaders. And they were mass murderers. They were irrationalities, having taken the form of seventeen different Beasts. The Beasts began devouring the world at an alarming rate, and the emnetwiht could do nothing to fight back against this new threat. In just a few days, two countries disappeared from the map. At the beginning of the week, five countries, four islands, and two oceans were gone. And by the start of the following week, there was almost no point in a map anymore. They say it didn’t even take a year after they appeared for the emnetwiht race to perish. Though the emnetwiht were gone, their force could not be stopped. The elves fought to protect the great forests, and they perished. The underground morians fought to protect the great, sacred mountains, and they perished. The dragons fought to protect their dignity as the pinnacle of life on earth, and they perished. Everything began to vanish from the land, like some sort of joke. Someone finally noticed—there was no longer a future for anyone left on the surface. If they wanted to live, they had to run far away from the surface, to a place where the Beasts’ fangs could not reach. Since then, a long time has passed, and now— 2. The Unmarked Man What am I? Willem thought. The answer was simple: He was an emnetwiht, a race that shouldn’t be here, a life that shouldn’t exist. He had a place to return to, but no way to get there—making him an eternal stray. He repaid thirty-two thousand bradal. There was one hundred and fifty thousand left on his debt. The main streets were lively at this time of day when the sun was setting. The lighting crystals affixed here and there throughout town illuminated the area, night or day. People came and went, swirling around the faint lavender smoke that hung in the air. The boggard touts shouted their promotions. An ailuranthrope shopkeeper was burning tobacco. The young orcs paraded through town, laughing boisterously. The back streets were quiet compared to all that. It was silent, smelled of nothing, and lacked the presence of any people—almost unbelievable considering just a single building stood between this place and all the hustle and bustle. “Haven’t seen you in half a year, huh, Glick.” Willem had come to a table by the back wall in a cheap cafeteria. Facing his old friend, he beamed a lifeless smile. He kept his worn-out coat on but removed his hood, baring his lack of features to the world. “…” The man named Glick—fitting every stereotype of a boggard—only gave a small, discontented snort as he counted the money. The envelope was stuffed with small bradal bills. It would take a while to count them all. A strange atmosphere had sprung up between them. “Umm, right. How’re Anala and the others?” “They messed up last month, got gobbled up by Three,” Glick replied bluntly, never taking his eyes off the cash. “Gurgula died, too. Remember how Island No. 47 sunk over the summer? Got caught up in the whole collapse, and now I bet there’s nothing left but a smudge on the ground.” “…Sorry. That was inconsiderate of me.” The young man dropped his shoulders guiltily. Glick cackled. “Don’t worry about it; we’re all salvagers. When I followed my dreams and went down to the surface for the first time, I was already set to die and let die. And well, I guess you could say they lived a long life. Most salvagers die their first day down on the surface.” He finished counting the money. “Thirty-two thousand. Got it.” He tapped the edges of the stack of bills on the table to align them. “…Hey, Willem. You really okay with this?” “What do you mean?” “Thirty thousand in six months. You got a hundred and fifty thousand left. If all goes well, you’ll be done in two and a half years.” “Oh yeah, that. Sorry, I won’t be making any savings if I pay any more than this.” “I’m not asking you to pay more. You should know that already.” He stuck the envelope into an old leather bag. “This is a semifer island, and they hate people without horns or scales or beast ears—the featureless. You’ve got no features as far as anyone can tell, so there’s no way you can get good work here. And you’re just barely getting by with cheap day labor.” “Well, that’s true…” Willem’s gaze drifted upward. Glick narrowed his eyes. “That means this is practically all your savings from these past six months. Right?” “I take out money for food. The jobs I’ve been taking recently don’t provide meals.” “That’s not the problem, sheesh.” The boggard impatiently tapped his finger on the table. “Don’t you have anything else to do besides pay this debt back? It’s been a year and a half since you woke up. Haven’t you found anything you want to do or a way to have fun?” “I guess you could say I’m just enjoying life.” “I ain’t interested in whatever excuses you have for a boring life,” Glick said sharply. “I live for whatever I find fun. It’s a sea of treasure down there. Lost tools, material, and technology are everywhere. I love looking for it, finding it, taking it home, and turning it into money. The times I don’t find anything and go into the red—well, you could say that’s a spice of life, too. That time we made a mess and stumbled into Six’s nest, I’d never felt so alive in my entire life—so much happened.” There was a far-off look in Glick’s eyes for a moment. “We were salvagers. So, Willem, what about you? I know it suits your personality to take things slow and honestly. I don’t mind that. But haven’t you thought at all about what you’re gonna do once you’re finished paying this off?” “…The coffee here’s kind of salty.” His attempt to deflect was too obvious. Glick’s face twisted into an odd expression, and Willem, unable to find the words he wanted to say next, just plastered a vague smile on his lips. An awkward atmosphere settled between them. The boggards were all fundamentally simple, emotional, and faithful to their instincts. There were individual differences, of course—Glick was surprisingly rational and reasonable, as well as sympathetic, which made people doubt his heritage sometimes. Willem found that he had a hard time dealing with the boggard’s sympathetic side sometimes. “…Hey, there’s a job I think you should take,” Glick murmured, broaching the subject. “I know someone, and well—she’s got a decent job, and she’s looking for people. It’s a long commitment where you’ll have to deal with featureless, and I hear she’s having a hard time finding candidates. You wouldn’t mind working with featureless, would you? You are one yourself, after all.” “It shouldn’t be a big deal to you, either. You’re my good friend, after all.” “I’m a salvager. I left my soul down on the surface. I have no plans to be tied to a job way up here.” He chuckled. “The job is, in short, looking after the Winged Guard’s secret weapons.” “Military stuff? Secret weapons?” Those weren’t very comforting words. Regule Aire’s military was a public organization, equipped with enough firepower to stand against invasion attempts made by their external enemies, the Seventeen Beasts. Though they had the great benefit of being up in the sky, it did not overcome the massive disadvantage they had when facing the Seventeen Beasts, who’d once destroyed all life on the land. Consequently, they were using every method possible to secure military power, regardless of appearances—or so Willem had heard. “You know I can’t fight anymore.” “I realize. We’re talking about the Guard, but it’s not like you’re gonna be slicing and dicing on the front lines. There’s other behind-the-scenes kind of desk work, y’know.” “Like what?” That explanation didn’t give him a very good idea what to expect. “Is it the kind of work where you can just follow what your employer tells you to do?” “Probably not. But well, I’ll do something about your documents.” Glick cackled. Nothing he had said helped put Willem’s mind at ease. “Well, listen. I’ve heard that it’s the Orlandry Alliance that actually manages, maintains, and uses the weapons. According to Regule Aire law, citizens aren’t allowed to own weapons above a certain caliber—you know that already. But Orlandry is an important sponsor for the Guard, so they don’t want to offend ’em. And they know that even if the Winged Guard just collected those weapons themselves, they couldn’t decently manage or maintain any of it with their own technology and funds alone. So—” “It belongs to the Guard in name but is actually Alliance property?” “Exactly. Them Guards send out a manager for show, but they don’t do anything else. That manager is an empty posting for real members of the Guard. Not only do they have no authority whatsoever on site, they can’t be publicly recognized for any military honors since the weapons are kept secret. The job completely cuts them off from earning any promotions for their career. That’s how they ended up searching for someone outside the ranks.” The boggard’s amber-specked eyes were looking straight at Willem. “Like I said before, I can take care of your position in the Guard. The manager is only a position for show, so you don’t need any special skills or qualifications. Just tight lips and endurance. Including the danger pay and hush money, the pay isn’t bad at all. Even after you repay all your debt, you’ll have plenty left over. Use it to find some kind of life for yourself. I know you have your own stuff going on, but don’t waste the life someone handed back to you. Live a real life in this world, will ya? That’s all those guys and I wish—” Glick stopped there, then shook his head. “Sorry. The number of familiar faces keeps dwindling, so I guess I’ve been getting more and more insecure.” The young boggard’s face twisted into an obviously forced smile, so much so that any other race could tell. Willem couldn’t say no to him after all that. “I get it. Tell me a little more.” “So you’ll take the job?” “I’ll decide after I hear a bit more, so don’t tell me anything that will force me to accept just yet.” “All right. First things first…” After a clear smile spread across his face, Glick dropped his gaze to the coffee in his hands and said, “…The coffee here’s kind of salty,” then grinned. Glick was a rational and reasonable, as well as sympathetic boggard—a good guy. Willem had a hard time dealing with that side of him sometimes. Regule Aire was a cluster of over a hundred floating islands. Roughly in the center was Island No. 1. The numbers started counting up from there outward in a spiral. Islands on the inside had smaller numbers, and the farther out the island, the greater its number. There were a couple other things of note. The islands closest to the center—more specifically, those numbered up to forty—actually weren’t that far away from one another. Since most of these islands were stabilized by their close contact, there were even places fixed together with giant chains and bridges. Their closeness facilitated a great amount of trade, which directly correlated to the prosperity of the cities on those islands. On the other hand, the islands at the periphery—numbered seventy and up—were not only incredibly far away from one another, but were themselves not very big. It was rare to see cities, much less a flourishing settlement, so these places didn’t even fall on the public commuter airship’s circle route. The island with the facilities in question was No. 68. It was in a weird spot. The public commuter airship didn’t go there directly. Of course, there were plenty of ways to get there without choosing a specific one. Buying or renting an airship would provide direct access. But if cost was a concern, then that wasn’t an option. There was a community of lizardfolk on Island No. 53, the closest stop on the public airship route. There, Willem would find an airship ferryman to take him there. His calculations of the total cost were correct. Willem arrived safely at Island No. 68. But his calculations failed spectacularly with regard to a different metric… When he arrived, the sun had completely set. A strong wind howled. “Ha-ha… Man, I messed up.” As he stood in the port district, Willem laughed to himself. The hem of the coat he wore over the unfamiliar military uniform flapped violently in the wind. The ferryman he hired promptly tossed him out and immediately returned to Island No. 53. The path of retreat was already cut off. Before him stood a sign, tattered from exposure to the strong winds. It said downtown was two thousand marmer to the right. The Orlandry Alliance Warehouse No. 4 was five hundred marmer in the other direction. On either side were red arrows pointing in each direction. “Is this it?” The Orlandry Alliance Warehouse No. 4. Wasn’t it supposed to be under the Guard’s name, even if just nominally? That’s what he thought, but there were probably many things here they weren’t too concerned about if they were going to put him in a position of responsibility despite the fact that he wasn’t a member of the Guard or anything at all. The arrow pointed to a narrow path that led into a dark, black forest. Of course, there weren’t any streetlamps or anything sensible like that. Without any light to guide him, he entered the woods. It didn’t make for a very exciting story, but nonetheless, he couldn’t sit there and wait for morning. He did briefly entertain the idea of going into town and staying at an inn, but he would have to take the dark roads there anyway. And from what he could tell from the sign, it was far away. “Oh, well.” He looked up once to the starry sky above, then stepped into the shadows. It was dark. But of course, he knew that already. He couldn’t see his feet but had been aware of that from the start, too. Thanks to the starlight that occasionally peeked in through the canopy, he managed to somehow keep to the path. But due to that, his pace was absurdly slow. He vaguely recalled a fairy tale he had read when he was a child. It was about a boy who pushed deep into a forest on a summer night and never returned. The story went that he was abducted by faeries deep in the forest, then whisked away to their kingdom in another world. At the time, he’d thought something like that could happen to him, so he’d vowed never to go near the woods at night. Then, his master, his daughter, and the others made fun of him for his fears. But now he could look back on it and laugh, since he was much too old to be called a boy anymore. “No dangerous animals or anything, I hope…” That was what he was worried about now. Island No. 68 was reasonably large. This forest was also quite big. It was fairly impressive, even compared to similar places in Regule Aire, and could almost be said to reflect a piece of nature that once existed on the surface, transplanted into the sky. Therefore, it wasn’t impossible that wolves and bears, vicious animals once considered threats on the surface, were skulking around. Could he get away safely if he came across any of those the way he was now? Willem considered. For his old self, of course it wouldn’t have been a problem. His training wasn’t so scant that he’d have struggled to survive an encounter with one or two wild animals. Now that he had been rendered powerless, though, in many senses of the word, he couldn’t be as optimistic as he’d once been. Squish. He felt his feet dampen. He’d been so lost in thought, he’d stepped off the path a bit. He gave a bit of a sniff and could smell the faint scent of water. Judging by the feel and the smell, there was no doubt that this was a swamp. The smell of water, earth, and wind all mixed together. He felt a vague pang of wistfulness. Sheesh, are we really in the sky here? As he thought that, a bitter smile no one else could see passed briefly across his face. Then a light shone in the corner of his eye. “Oh?” It rapidly zigzagged as it grew bigger. Something was coming. “Is that my welcome party?” Now that he thought about it, when the ferryman’s airship pulled up to the port, a message should have been automatically dispatched to the facility here. If so, then it wouldn’t be odd if an engineer or researcher or whatnot noticed it and came out to greet him. Well, then there was really no need for him to walk all this way. As he thought about all that, he turned to face the illumination, and— “Yaaaaaahhhhh!” The light leaped. It was a battle cry, one a little too cute to be called a woman’s scream. A wooden sword thrust out at him from the darkness with surprisingly keen swordsmanship. Why? He couldn’t think of any reason he would be attacked here and now. This is bad. It would be easy to just evade this slashing attack. If he did, however, then his attacker, careening at him with full force, would be led by the laws of physics to draw a perfect parabola in the air, then splash into the swamp behind him. What could he do? His body moved just before his mind could reach a decision. He took half a step forward, slipping to the side of the wooden sword’s arc. He then spread his arms, ready to stop the attacker’s tackle with the upper half of his body. Impact. His assailant was heavier than he’d supposed. The lower half of his body couldn’t endure it. His warrior instincts started working on their own. His consciousness switched gears for combat and tried to activate the venenum in his body. That would stimulate his muscles and speed up his decision-making. But then bolts of pain shot through his entire body. He faltered. Willem fell directly backward—right into the swamp behind him. The loud splash echoed all over. …The spray of water died down. Heat rapidly began vanishing from his back, which had sunk into the swamp. There was a small light in his attacker’s right hand, probably made from magic. The tiny glow lit up a part of the darkness, cutting out their own little world. Sure enough, the attacker was straddling Willem’s stomach and looking down at him over her nose. She had bright-lilac hair, like the dawn. Sharp purple eyes. “Hey! Pannibal! What are you doing?!” A new magical light grew closer this time, dancing among the trees. It finally pushed away the darkness, and there appeared another girl. She had sky-blue hair which Willem felt he’d seen somewhere before. The purple-haired girl lifted her head and said proudly, “I’ve subdued the intruder,” then huffed again. “There’s lots of water on the ground here, so you might slip if you— Huh?” The face he’d seen the other day looked at him with (most definite) surprise. “The intruder? What? You…? Why?” “Hey there…” He lifted his hand lightly and smiled weakly. Willem couldn’t stay soaked forever. He took a bath. After scrubbing away the mud, he changed his clothes, fixed his hair, and stood before the mirror. As always, the man with black hair and black eyes stood before him. His face gazed back at him lifelessly with the eyes of someone who had never been good at fighting. A vague smile sat naturally on his face, so much so that it almost seemed like his bones were shaped that way. There was one occasion when he’d tried wearing fake horns and fangs to hide the fact he was featureless, but it was almost sad how poor of a mismatch it was. They were, after all, parts for displaying one’s brutishness or wild nature or whatever out in the open, meaning it only suited those who had a certain degree of those qualities. He checked himself, just to see if the pain was still there. This was what happened when he tried to use even a little magic—can’t believe I’ve wasted away so much. A long time ago, he’d been able to fall asleep with enough power for a battle still active in his body, but he knew he wouldn’t accomplish anything yearning for things that were long gone. So this should be the facility. From the inside, though, it didn’t seem to be built that way. The floorboards in the halls were worn, the walls plastered, and several small rooms were evenly spaced throughout. The papers pasted on the wall showed the chore rotation schedule alongside signs like THE TOILET ON THE SECOND FLOOR IS OUT OF ORDER and NO RUNNING IN THE HALL. Then there were the little girls hiding behind things, peeking out at him as he passed. “This way.” That girl with the cerulean hair was guiding him. He studied her more closely this time. By emnetwiht standards, she looked to be in her midteens or even a little younger. She had no features and was built similarly to an emnetwiht, but…her hair, a fresh blue that reminded him of the clear spring sky, was not something emnetwiht were born with. He didn’t think any sort of dye could produce that kind of natural hue, either. She was oddly calm and acting cold compared to when they’d met at Tin Stalls. But that was probably not her normal disposition. Whenever she grew nervous or hesitated, he clearly saw those ocean-blue eyes of hers waver. They say a man away from home feels no shame, so maybe that’s how she’d felt when he saw her back in town—her embarrassing, unpainted face that she didn’t usually show in her day-to-day life. She’s the kind of girl who’ll never be honest, he thought. He’d once had a junior colleague like that. A nostalgic feeling crept up on him, and a smile naturally spread across his face. “Wh-what?” “Nope, nothing. Take me where we need to go.” She sometimes glanced at him restlessly, as though she was about to say something, but after thinking it over, she would swallow her words and put distance between them. He couldn’t come across all familiar with her while she acted like that, so he kept silent and stayed half a pace behind her. The girl with purple hair called Pannibal—who was probably just around ten years old—looked between the two of them curiously. “Pardon us.” Willem was taken to and let into a small room with a little table where two chairs sat along with a bookshelf, a bed, and a collection of miscellaneous trinkets. “What part of this is the warehouse?” He was getting impatient and couldn’t help but mutter it out loud. “—I knew that would be the response, so I had monitoring and reporting done in form only.” There was a woman in the room. She didn’t have any features, either. From her appearance, she was about eighteen—same as Willem—or a bit older. She was tall for a woman, and her eyes were roughly level with Willem’s as well. Pale-red hair poured gently down to her back. Her eyes were a serene spring-green. She wore a bright-green blouse and a white apron dress over it. Her demeanor was calm yet reserved, suggesting a good upbringing. The woman beamed happily. “Welcome to the secret weapons warehouse. Nice to see you again, Willem. Are you getting taller?” “…Why the hell are you here, Nygglatho?” he groaned, saying the woman’s name. There was a clatter on the other side of the door. He pretended not to hear. “Why? Well, this is where I work, of course. I was quite surprised when I heard the story from Glick, you know. I didn’t imagine that he would be sending you over. “Oh, and congratulations on the promotion, Second Enchantments Officer Willem Kmetsch. You’ve advanced with quite the extraordinary speed, shooting so far up the ranks on the very same day you joined the military!” “Don’t tease me. It’s only a title just to look good. I have to be a certain rank to apply for this job, since it’s a Guard facility, after all… But hold on, when he said, ‘I know someone, and she’s got a decent job, and she’s looking for people,’ he meant…” “Oh, that’s probably me.” “Goddammit.” Willem was going to punch Glick next time they met. I’m not gonna hold back. He set me up for this trap, so he should be ready for at least that much. “But you must have had quite the trouble in the forest at this time of night. We would have collected you from a nearby island if you’d sent a message.” He was encouraged to sit. A tea set clattered as it was placed on the table before him, probably prepared while he’d been bathing. “I’ve been on Island No. 25 for a while, so I’m not used to the airships. I honestly thought I’d be getting here quicker—I’ll send a message out ahead of time in the future.” “Please do… That uniform looks good on you.” “Well, the guy actually wearing it thinks it’s too tight and can’t breathe.” “Aw, you don’t have to sound so sad about it. You look twice as delicious as you did when you first woke up.” “So my life is in twice the danger.” “Gosh. Don’t be so mean. Just trust me. Didn’t I tell you already? Even if I am a troll, and though you are the most delectable, rarest treat in this world, I don’t have any plans to eat you right now.” Nygglatho placed the palms of her hands together and tilted her head slightly. “Because what a waste that would be. You’re the last of your kind. I’m not so boorish that I would destroy that for the sake of a momentary craving.” She looked adorable when she did that. But a chill ran up and down Willem’s spine. “…Though of course, if the man in question says it’s all right, I might think about it.” “Nope. I don’t think so.” “Really? You don’t think you’ll change your mind? Not even an arm—no, a finger?” Willem couldn’t take it. He felt more and more threatened the longer the conversation carried on. Trolls are a classic, traditional monster. They’ve been a favorite topic of ghost stories among travelers for a very long time. Beautiful young men and women mysteriously living alone, isolated from populated regions. They kindly invite tired travelers into their home, greet them with a feast, enthusiastically taking care of them before gobbling them up in the middle of the night. Willem thought that was all just a legend or a fable to teach novice travelers not to let their guard down in unknown lands until relatively recently. When he’d learned they were a kind of ogre that had existed since long ago, his jaw had dropped as he stared blankly in surprise. …And then immediately after, the monster in question had laughed at him and said, “How complicated it would be if you treated me like a legend.” There came a clatter from the other side of the door. There were a number of people creeping about in the hallway. Willem pretended not to notice. “Tell me about the job. I’ve been told I don’t have to do anything, but I don’t know any details. What should I be doing tomorrow? No, is there anything I should be starting today?” “Hmm… Well, do you plan on staying here?” “Of course. I came here as the manager of the weapons under the Guard’s name. Even if it is just in name only, I can’t even keep up appearances if I don’t at least stay in the same building.” “The previous manager and the one before that showed up on the first day, then never came back for the remainder of their employment.” “Is that allowed?!” This job was even more low-key than he’d first heard. “So, well, if you’re serious when you say, ‘I’m not staying in a place like this!’ then there’s no problem if you leave and go live on a different island…” “You’re not gonna say that, then let it end with me stabbed in the back the second I turn around, will you?” “Oh, how awful. What do you think I am?” I think you’re a demon who eats people. Willem sighed. “Well, even if it is a meaningless job, it goes against my principles to just throw it away. I came here with the intention of staying.” “You did? Good!” Nygglatho clapped her hands together by her face and rejoiced. “Then we need to prepare a room for you quickly. Oh, perhaps we should eat dinner first. You must be hungry, right? There might be something left in the dining hall… We’ll prepare a feast for you tomorrow, so look forward to that.” Willem gave another deep sigh. He could never handle Nygglatho very well. Even ignoring how she always directed her appetite toward him (though he couldn’t ignore it, really), as an adult male, there were other parts of her behavior that left him uneasy. “Heh-heh, it’s been a year since I took care of things for you. This makes me happy.” Willem was a man, a young person—basically a sad creature—who carried a mercilessness that was hard for his heart and body to bear. Consequently, he couldn’t help his heart dancing at a situation in which a young girl (not to mention one of a related race) would be looking after him with such a bright, kind smile. But he couldn’t get the wrong idea. Her friendliness toward him wasn’t sexually motivated. It was essentially the same attitude a farmer showed his cows and chickens. The troll girl was likely showing him such kindness in order to uphold the cycle of “raise with love” and then “eat.” Calm down, my instincts. Come on, logic. This thing in front of me is a predator. My heart is beating faster because of the approaching threat to my life. Don’t forget that. He repeated that to himself several times, somehow managing to bring his heart rate back down to normal. “What’s wrong? You look down.” The young woman in question was oblivious to this young man’s struggle. “…Let me just double-check. You’re not planning on eating me, right?” “Of course not. I really do want to take care of you. But see, trolls have a drive to offer guests the best possible hospitality. I won’t ask you to fulfill all my desires (yet), but you won’t mind humoring that instinct of mine, will you?” “Okay, why don’t you say what you just whispered to yourself again, out loud so I can hear it?” “I didn’t say anything,” she answered calmly, and when Nygglatho rose quietly, the door opened. There was an avalanche. Peach, jade, purple, pink. Young girls—all of them around ten years old—with different hair colors all collapsed atop one another on the rug. “Hey, stop pushing!” yelled the girl at the bottom of her accomplices. “S-s-s-sorry!” Another bowed her head up and down furiously. “Hey, Nygglatho. Don’t mind us,” said one of them…Pannibal, from earlier, with a calm expression. “Yo, sorry to barge in!” Still another smiled brightly like the sun. Like a dam gushing forth, they all spoke at the same time. Nygglatho ignored it, placed her hands on her hips, and stood imposingly before the girls. “Go back to your rooms.” There was no debating her command. The girls stopped moving. One of them slowly raised her hand. “Um, we wanted to say hello to the new manager first…” The other girls nodded in agreement. But… “Did you not hear me?” Nygglatho peered at the children as she slowly tilted her head. “But—”