“Can I have this one, Christina?” Kanade inquires. “It’s all yours,” Christina replies. “That puts me in the middle, then.” “I gotta ask,” I cut in. “Why are there three beds?” The question’s been killing me since we first stepped into the room. “Because there’s three of us,” Christina says, pointing one after another at me, then herself, then Kanade. “Well, I certainly can’t argue with that math.” “It’s more efficient to have all the people who need to be guarded in one place.” “Ah.” That’s actually pretty reasonable. “We’ll be sleeping in the same room, but I’ll put a bookcase up between Cid’s bed and ours,” Christina says. “That way, there shouldn’t be any problems.” “Plus, Cid’s grades on practical tests are garbage, and I’m, like, a hundred times stronger than him,” Kanade adds. “If he tries anything funny, I’ll just beat him up. Fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh!” In a profound display of disrespect, Kanade hops up and down on her bed and assumes a combat stance. “I’m not some weirdo.” I raise my hands in a show of surrender and sit down on my bed. The suitcase I brought from my dorm is waiting for me by the foot of the bed. In order, we’ve got me closest to the window, then Christina, then Kanade. “In front of the door and next to the window, huh? If anyone attacks, I’ll be the first to die. The perfect spot for the son of a broke-ass baron,” I mutter. “You’re the one least likely to get attacked out of all of us, Cid,” Christina tells me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that in a snide way.” To the contrary, I’m looking forward to it. “We have two guards in front of the door and another three stationed below the window. And they’re all skilled dark knights who’ve made it to the Bushin Festival primary rounds.” “Gosh.” “Don’t worry. You’re far safer here than you would have been at your dorm.” “If you say so. I think I got the gist of the situation on our way over, but can I ask what happened this morning?” “I suppose that’s only fair.” “Actually, sorry,” Kanade pipes up. “I need to use your bathroom…” This is what you get for drinking all that coffee. “There’s a toilet and a bath in the next room over.” “Thanks!” After watching Kanade scamper off, Christina starts explaining. “Someone killed Earl Shoddi Goodz. People will probably be talking about it at school tomorrow.” “What?! He got murdered?! That’s so morbid. Now that you mention it, the name on those documents did look like it was written in blood…” “I suspect those papers were taken from the scene of the crime.” “Holy cow… Scary! To think that someone would do something as totally messed up as writing a message in blood.” “The way Earl Goodz was killed wasn’t normal, either. This isn’t just your regular old murder. The culprit is acting with some sort of purpose.” “I can’t believe that a normal old unremarkable academy student like me is getting wrapped up in an incident this grisly…” “I can only imagine how hard this is for you, but you have to hang in there. You might be a target, too.” “Man, I’m gonna be trembling so bad I won’t be able to sleep tonight. After all, someone might be after my life.” “Oh, Cid…” Christina rubs my quivering back. The cold night wind blows in through the cracked window. After Kanade gets back from the bathroom, the three of us share a late dinner. The meal is a lavish affair made from adapted versions of recipes from Mitsugoshi’s fine dining cookbook, and what surprises me most of all is when they bring out the sushi made from a fish resembling salmon. I haven’t had sushi since before I died. “The food was so novel, and it was all so delicious!” Kanade says in elation after we return to the bedroom. “Mitsugoshi’s cookbooks don’t have a single bad recipe in them,” Christina replies. “You should really think about getting one, Kanade.” “Hweh?! M-my family can’t afford expensive ingredients, though…” “Some of their cookbooks focus on affordable dishes. For example, tuna burgers use the parts of the fish that we used to throw away.” And thus, a fantasy world’s dietary culture gets overwritten. The three of us continue chatting from our beds for a while. It’s exciting, like we’re out on a school trip. Some time later, though, Christina gets up amid the hearth’s crackling and begins turning off the room’s lights. “We should really get some sleep. I was having so much fun I lost track of the time.” “Awww, but I wanna keep chatting!” It’s already past midnight. Kanade slips under her blanket, grumbling all the while. “G’night,” I say as I tuck myself into bed. “Good night, you two.” Right as Christina is about to do the same, there’s a knock on the door, and a maid comes in. “Miss Christina, your father is asking for you,” she says. “…You two, go ahead and go to sleep. I’ll be right back once I’m done.” “You got it,” I reply. “Zzzz.” Kanade is already fast asleep. “Say, Cid…” Christina turns around in the doorway and gives me an intent stare. “Huh? What’s up?” “Have we met somewhere before?” “In class.” “That’s not what I mean. I just get this sense that we’ve talked before.” “Huh. I don’t think we have.” “Maybe it’s just your energy. I feel like you remind me of someone… Sorry for bothering you.” With an evasive smile, Christina steps out of the bedroom. It’s the dead of night, and Christina is in her father’s study. Her father’s hands tremble as he flips through the documents. “This is serious business.” “Proof like this can crack the trial wide open. I’ll be able to get Eliza Despoht convicted.” “You think I don’t see that?!” her father roars, slamming his hands on his desk. “You’ll be turning every Nightblade against you. We wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if you hadn’t chosen to protect that complete nobody!” “The Nightblades already have their eye on us, Father. We’re the ones who benefit the most from Earl Shoddi Goodz’s murder.” “And I’m saying, the only reason for that is because you keep sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong!” Then her father gives her a look. All his rage has transformed into fear. “No, don’t tell me. You’re not actually the one who killed—” “Of course not! I didn’t do anything. It was Jack the Ripper who killed Earl Goodz.” “B-but…” “We need to help Kanade, Father. When we use this evidence to put Eliza Despoht away, it’ll weaken the Nightblades and cause more nobles to flock to our side.” “No, but look at it another way. If we return the documents to the Nightblades, we’ll be putting ourselves in their good graces.” “There’s no way the Nightblades would just let us go. We know too much.” “Rgh… Wait, hold on. You invited that girl over here, right?” “I did. Kanade is under our protection now.” “Good going. If we turn her over to the Nightblades as well, they’ll know we’re acting in good faith!” “I can’t let you do that. I’d stop anyone who tried, even my own father.” “You would dare defy me, Christina? Me, the head of the Hope family?!” Christina glares at her father as he blusters at her. Her father is the first to avert his gaze. “For the time being, all decisions on this need to go through me. We don’t know who this ‘Jack the Ripper’ is, and the whole thing might just be a trap. We need to figure out where this evidence is coming from.” “But, Father…!” “The Thirteen Nightblades aren’t just going to sit idly by, not with Earl Goodz dead. They’ll probably put Earl Azukay and Baron Stergang in charge of the situation.” “The two members of their militant arm.” “And the youngest members of the Nightblades, yes. We have no idea what it is they’re planning. I’m sorry, but I’m too young to die.” With that, Christina’s father takes the documents and leaves the room. Christina gazes into the flickering hearth and lets out a long exhale. “This nation’s aristocracy is rotten. Rotten to its core.” She heaves a defeated laugh. “What a joke we are… My father, too terrified to do anything but curry favor with the Nightblades, and me, powerless to do anything at all…” The question of the hour is: Why did Jack the Ripper leave those documents in Christina’s desk? She thinks she’s deduced the answer. “He’s telling me to push forward with the trial. That’s why he gave me that evidence on the Nightblades’ wrongdoings.” However, there’s nothing Christina can do. She needs power to make the evidence stick, and that’s one thing she doesn’t have. The weak are helpless to do anything but get trampled, regardless of how hard their proof is. “If I were just stronger…” She could just imagine how exhilarating it would be to get rid of the parasites infesting her nation in one fell swoop. Suddenly, the image of Shoddi Goodz’s face rises in her mind—playing card embedded in his forehead, eyes wide in bewilderment. “Heh-heh…” Christina laughs. Back when she first saw him, she’d been so taken with his dead visage that she’d completely forgotten herself until Alexia called out to her. It’s the dead of night, and Christina’s quiet laughter echoes through the study. Earl Azukay and Baron Stergang share a conversation in a dim secret chamber. “So we still don’t know who iced Shoddi Goodz?” Azukay says as he smokes his cigar. “All the witnesses did was babble about a clown,” Stergang grumbles. “Nitwits, the lot of ’em.” “Whoever did it knew their stuff. There’s no eyewitness reports outside the Goodz estate, and our top mana tracers couldn’t find the guy’s trail.” “We’re dealing with a professional here.” “Yeah. Goodz had an impressive guard roster, and the killer took them all out in a single hit. This guy’s got skills on par with Chief Gray’s.” “Could be someone from the Lawless City. They’ve got that assassin’s guild ZERO over there, right?” “ZERO would make sense skill-wise, but I haven’t heard of any clowns working for them.” “Could be a new recruit.” “Sure, maybe. Either way, we don’t have to know who the clown is to figure out who hired them.” Azukay spreads a series of papers across the desk. “There’s a couple possible candidates, but the Hope family’s at the top of the list for sure. Still, we don’t have any proof.” “Aw, damn, no proof? What a bummer.” A sinister grin makes its way to Stergang’s face. “Well, guess we’ll just have to merc ’em like we always do. Let ’em taste a little pain, and they’ll tell us whatever we want.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if they didn’t do it?” “Heh, then we can just make up some evidence. Dead men tell no tales, y’know?” “Yeah, but this is the Hope family we’re talking about. Think of what a headache that would be to clean up.” “What? We’ve killed plenty of big shot aristocrats.” “In the past, sure. But you heard about how the Fenrir sect got taken down.” “The Fenrir sect? Oh, right, those cultists who’ve been backing up the Thirteen Nightblades.” “Exactly. Now that the Shadow Garden’s stamped them out, it’s a lot harder for the Cult to have our back. We’re in talks with another of their factions right now, but until that’s all wrapped up, we need to watch our backs.” “Ugh, what a pain in the ass. I don’t get what the big deal is. They’re just one measly little cult.” “You don’t know anything. You have no idea how powerful the Cult is, or how terrifying they can be…” Stergang is taken aback at how grave Azukay’s voice is. “I-if that idiot Goodz hadn’t gotten himself killed, we wouldn’t even be in this mess,” he snaps to hide how shaken he is. “Don’t lose your cool. Until we get new orders, our job is just to keep the Hopes under surveillance.” “Y’know, Boss, that Christina chick is a bona fide hottie. If we do end up killing the Hope family, you mind if I take her?” “She’s all yours. Just make sure you don’t slack on the cleanup.” “You’re the best, Boss!” A wicked grin spreads across Stergang’s face. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” “Shut up, Stergang.” “Sorry, Boss.” “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” A disquieting peal of laughter rings through the darkened chamber. Stergang isn’t smiling now, and Azukay grimly sets down his cigar. “What the hell…? Who’s there?” Azukay growls. Azukay and Stergang are the only ones in the room. A mere handful of people even know it exists. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” However, the laughter is clearly coming from inside the room. The two men warily draw their swords. “You think you can laugh at us?! Show yourself, asshole!” Azukay roars. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” The laughter remains unchanged. Azukay and Stergang strain their ears to figure out where it’s coming from. It’s not from their left or their right. Not from ahead of or behind them, either. Then the two of them start to look up. “Hee-hee!” That’s when something comes falling down. It’s a dark liquid, and it pours down on their table and stains it red. The smell of blood assaults their noses. They stare at the ceiling. There’s a clown drenched in blood clinging to it. “Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.” The clown laughs as it eyes them. “It’s him!” “Is that a clown?!” Azukay and Stergang swiftly swing their swords overhead. People call them the militant arm of the Nightblades, and their moves are well honed. Their swords cleave through the clown, sending blood spraying everywhere. Splurch. The bloody clown collapses onto the table. “Get his ass!!” The two men grin as they bring their swords down. Each time the blades find purchase in the clown, more and more blood goes flying. The clown twitches, and the laughter finally fades. “…Did we finish the job?” Azukay asks as he looks down at the mangled jester. With a practiced flick of the wrist, Stergang shakes the blood off his sword. “This is the guy who took out Goodz? What a total pushover. Or hey, maybe I’m just that strong.” Azukay smirks as well. He feels like he’s finally gotten his old edge back. “There’s a reason I made a name for myself in the Bushin Festival back in the day. Goodz’s piddly guards don’t have nothing on us. The clown picked the wrong guys to mess with.” “All right, clowny boy. Let’s see what kinda face you’ve got under there…” Stergang laughs and reaches to pull off the clown’s mask. “What the…? Stergang!!” Stergang looks back, annoyed by the interruption. “What’s the matter, Boss?” “Y-your head…” “What about my head?” “There’s a playing card sticking out of the back…” “Huh?” Stergang hurriedly pats the back of his head. Sure enough, there’s a playing card stuck deep in it. He wipes at the blood trickling down his neck in bewilderment. “B-Boss… By, by, by heab…” With that, he crumples to the floor. The card embedded in his head is the two of spades. Then a figure looks down at Stergang’s convulsing body and slowly rises to its feet. It’s the bloody clown. “H-how…? How are you still alive?” Azukay shudders and draws back. The clown is covered in wounds that should clearly have been fatal, yet it stands there seeming none the worse for wear. The clown advances. Splurch. “Hold on. What do you want?” The clown advances. Splurch, splurch. “Is it money? Who’s your client? How much did they pay you?” Splurch, splurch, splurch. “L-let’s talk about this! I’ll double their offer! I’ll get you money, women, anything you want!” Azukay feels a soft thump on his back. He’s reached the wall. Before he knew it, he’d been driven all the way to the edge of the room. “Stay back! I might not look it, but I’m a master of the Bushin style!” Splurch, splurch, splurch, splurch. “You won’t like what happens if you come into my range!” Azukay gives his sword a mighty swing. This is the range he fights best at, and he can visualize every moment right up to the clown’s head flying off its shoulders. However, his attack comes up empty. “What…? You dodged it from this close up?” All the clown did was take half a step backward, but it’s a movement that defies everything Azukay knows about human capabilities. Nobody’s supposed to be able to react that quickly. “Just what the hell are you?” Another splurch. “Hur…gurk…” There’s a playing card lodged in Azukay’s throat. It’s the three of spades. Choking up blood, Azukay swings his sword down. His blade grazes the tip of the clown’s nose before slamming into the ground. “You’re…a monster…” Then Azukay keels over forward, coughs up more blood, and goes still. The blood-drenched clown scoops up the two corpses and vanishes into the night.
Chapter 91
15 min read