“Of course, even the greatest explorer never reaches his destination without taking that first step,” Lippmann said with a gentle smile. He held out a different stack of documents. “I asked a lady I knew for a favor and received access to some of the government’s military files. Naturally, they immediately destroyed the most confidential files involving the research once the war ended, but I did discover that one military unit put out a call for body donations out west for use in human experimentation. That was our first clue. In other words, I contributed the most out of everyone here.” As the situation slowly dawned on him, Chuuya timidly looked over at the final person in the group: Iceman. “…I didn’t do anything special,” Iceman added before taking out the last set of documents. “I found records of your parents’ siblings, their family tree, where you went to school along with your grades and school photos. I found your birth records, too. Piano Man told me not to let the boss know we were looking into this, so I couldn’t go to an information broker. I had to sneak into eight different buildings myself to get these.” “E-eight different buildings?” Chuuya blinked in surprise while accepting the documents. Iceman nodded, then faintly smiled for the first time that day. Very few people knew Iceman as a person, but he was actually quite soft-spoken and kind when he wasn’t on the job. He was simply a good-natured man who enjoyed coffee and listening to records in his spare time. Not many knew he had this side to him, but all five of the men here did. Chuuya looked at each of them in turn; they were all smiling. Piano Man, Albatross, Doc, Lippmann, and Iceman: the Port Mafia’s cream of the crop. “Why, though?” Chuuya looked at the photo. “You’re disobeying the boss by doing this.” Keeping Chuuya’s history a secret was how the Port Mafia boss was keeping him shackled to the organization. He wouldn’t be able to betray them as long as this info was under wraps. Piano Man, however, simply shrugged. “The boss gave me orders to keep an eye on you in case you learned the secret. He never told me to keep that secret from you, though.” Chuuya stared hard at Piano Man in an attempt to understand what he really meant by that remark. “Why?” A flash of uneasiness briefly colored Chuuya’s expression. “Why would you go through all this?” “‘Why?’” Piano Man looked puzzled, as if the question didn’t make any sense. “I already told you why. Because we’re celebrating your one-year anniversary today.” “But…” “It’s nothing particularly serious,” said Lippmann. Baffled by Chuuya’s reaction, he eyed the rest of the group. “If we had to come up with a reason, though…” The look on his face said this was the most natural conclusion: “It’s because you’re our friend. Were things different with the Sheep?” They had been. That was what Chuuya’s flustered expression was saying. Everyone in the Sheep depended on him. The contrary was unthinkable. “How about you think about it like this, Chuuya.” Lippmann spread his arms, his gaze softening. “This isn’t a present. This is a flag. Ever since the days of ancient Rome, there has only been one reason to raise a flag: to tell people, ‘We are here, and we are the chosen ones.’ If any one of the six of us is ever in trouble, you remember that flag and gather under it. We’re counting on you.” He then slightly tilted his head to the side. “Heh-heh… What a wonderful speech,” said Doc. “That’s Lippmann for you… I have to wonder how many women have been fooled by that silver tongue of yours…” He almost seemed to be mumbling to himself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lippmann replied with an unbothered smirk. “Oh, right. This peer support group actually has an official name: the Flags. That’s where I got the metaphor from. Piano Man, the group’s founder, is the only one who remembers and uses the name, though.” “The ‘Flags’?” Albatross appeared dubious. “Pretty sure this is the first I’m hearing about this.” “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you forgot. I told you this on your first day in the group. Right, guys?” Piano Man looked at the others, but nobody even blinked. “Hold up. Did you seriously all forget? It took me three whole months to come up with the name.” Everyone averted their gaze. Only Chuuya was quietly focused on the photo in his hand as if all the answers were right there. As if the existence of the photo itself was the answer, not the people in it. “Happy one-year Mafia anniversary, Chuuya!” the group cheered. For the briefest moment, Chuuya wore a childlike expression as if he didn’t know what to do or how to respond. He looked at his comrades, then through the files, then at himself in the photo once more. “What’s wrong?” Piano Man’s voice pulled Chuuya back to reality. “Rrgh…!” He tried to look angry. He opened his mouth and attempted to yell something, but not a single thought came to mind. Everyone stared at Chuuya in puzzlement. He then swiftly turned around and shouted at the entrance: “Now I get it!” His voice was unnecessarily loud. “You thought you could pull a fast one on me, showin’ me this so I’d get all weepy and apologize! That’s what’s goin’ on, isn’t it?!” “Hmm? No, actually, we—” “Well, it ain’t gonna work on me. Got it? That won’t work on me!” Chuuya began storming toward the entrance and kept his head down. “I’m goin’ home! And ya better not follow me! I don’t wanna see any of your damn faces!” After Piano Man glanced at the others with a perplexed expression, he said to Chuuya, “Oh well. I guess if you’re leaving, you’re leaving. We were actually gonna have a billiards tournament after this, but…I guess we’ll just have to play without you.” “Even without the guest of honor?” Lippmann raised an eyebrow. “It’s out of our hands. We have all this nice booze we can’t let go to waste, so let’s cut loose and forget about work while we can. Whoever wins first place gets a prize!” “That sounds wonderful.” “Hey, Chuuya! Don’t mind us—and have a safe trip home!” Albatross waved at the entrance. “Whatever!” barked Chuuya before kicking the front door open and leaving the pool hall. “Hmph.” After the five comrades exchanged glances, they turned their gaze to the door. Nobody said a word. Ten, then twenty seconds of silence went by. Still, nobody spoke up. Nobody even moved a muscle. Thirty seconds went by. Right when they were about to reach the forty-second mark, the door to the pool hall opened just a crack. “Screw you guys. Just tell me the rules, damn it. I’m takin’ all those stupid prizes back home with me!” Chuuya was standing there looking equally frustrated and angry. “Now we’re talking,” Piano Man said with a smile. After that, the pool hall was full of its usual hustle and bustle: billiard balls clacking, the shuffling of footsteps, cheering, trash-talking, groaning, clinking glasses, billiard balls dropping into the pockets, and youthful laughter. The same mundane scene you’d see anywhere else in the world. If everyone in the room pitched in, they could afford numerous plots of land in this town, but you’d never know that just by observing them. These young men were simply chatting like usual. “Say, who ended up in last place the last time again?” “You won’t be talking a big game for long.” “We need more booze.” “Ha-ha-ha! Yeah, the drunker you get, the more your aim sucks! You’re goin’ down!” “True, the alcohol is making it hard to keep my hands stable. I’m probably gonna sink only three times as many balls as you.” “Oh, it’s on!” The pool hall was full of life. Someone started playing music on the jukebox. Old woodwind music could be heard in the background as the group played pool, drank champagne, and joked around. It was a scene from any corner of any old town; something that was universally wished for but wasn’t hard to achieve. That very something could disappear in the blink of an eye, just like bubbles in a champagne glass. This was one of those moments. “Heh… This shot’s gonna win me this whole thing.” “By the way, I saw you walking down by the harbor with a blond woman in tow. Is that your new girlfriend?” “H-huh? …Ack!” “Yikes, this isn’t looking good.” “Wow. Do you guys really wanna lose to me that badly?” “Ack! Could the balls literally be in a worse spot?! Don’t make things easier for Chuuya! He’s already got a big enough ego as it is!” “I have an ego?!” “Just don’t let him win! Whoever’s next, you better not mess up!” The stick connected with the cue ball perfectly. The follow shot’s spin twirled the white ball into a striped ball, knocking it into another numbered ball after that. The resulting combination shot hit one ball after another, each knocking themselves in a different direction. The colorful, energized balls wove complex geometrical patterns across the pool table. “Whoa!” Somebody gasped. The combo shot’s chain reaction, which was too intricate for the human eye to follow, continued until the final target—the yellow-and-white nine ball—began rolling toward one of the middle pockets. The nine ball moved slowly as if it were taking in a deep breath…and fell into the pocket. A split second of silence followed, and then everyone erupted into cheers and applause. “Incredible!” “What was that?! You made that shot like a pro!” “That was art.” “Sorry, Chuuya. Looks like your championship run ends here.” “A new king takes the throne!” “Who made that shot anyway?” Something bizarre had just happened. Startled, everyone started looking around to see who’d made that shot. “Huh?” Up until a few minutes ago, there were six people in the room…but now there were seven. “No need to clap,” said the seventh man. He wore a blue jacket and had long arms and legs; his dark-brown eyes perfectly complemented his black hair. His handsome face was very serious, almost to a fault as he held the cue stick like a ceremonial staff. “I do not need any prize, either. My sole intention is to interact with the six of you and form a connection. The investigation manual stated that was the best way to get information out of humans. And it appears we have bonded over our billiards game as planned, so I will now be focusing on the mission.” The young man’s voice was flat and sonorous, his gaze seriousness itself. That moment marked the end of the peaceful tournament. A kukri soared toward the young man’s neck with a fiery roar. “Oh my.” He tilted his head, effortlessly dodging the blade while it sliced the ends of his hair. Albatross had thrown the kukri. Undeterred, he maintained his calm expression and sank low to the ground. Iceman then emerged behind the newcomer with a cue stick. He twisted his body like a spring before shooting forward like a bullet from a sniper rifle. The young man in blue easily evaded, so Iceman followed up with a barrage of thrusts with his cue stick. The tip of the stick grazed his opponent’s skin, scorched the hair on his head, and pierced the downy hair on his ears, yet none of the attacks were a direct hit. He’d avoided them by a mere whisker. “I’m impressed,” said Iceman. “Ha-ha-ha! This is fun!” Albatross cheered. “You must really have a death wish, coming in here without even knocking! Lemme grant that wish for ya!” “Despite participating in a friendly game of billiards, it appears my targets of investigation are becoming increasingly aggressive. Your actions are illogical. Why are you doing this?” The young wolves did not have an answer for him. Right as the newcomer was thrown off-balance from dodging the cue stick, Piano Man slipped behind him and started pulling a fine, glittering radial wire from his watch. “You can finish making excuses once you’re down on the floor.” The wire, which would be nearly invisible if it weren’t for the faint light reflecting off it, slowly fell and wrapped around the young man’s neck. Piano Man flicked his wrist, causing the wire to rapidly constrict by the winding device in his sleeve. Chuuya had destroyed just one of the winders in his sleeves, but Piano Man had devices up both. And once they started winding, the wires transformed into guillotines that not even superhuman strength could stop. The young man instantaneously wedged the cue stick between his neck and the wire, but the winding piano wire snapped through the wood like butter before it was perfectly flush against the man’s neck. All that was left was for the merciless wire to turn the man’s shoulders into a flat table…and yet that didn’t happen. “What—?!” The young man didn’t try to dodge. He didn’t even try to pull the wire off his neck. There was no need for him to because the piano wire was simply gliding around the surface of the man’s skin. The winding device screeched as the wire dug into his neck, but that was all that happened. It didn’t even leave a scratch. “Stress in the exodermis contacts detected,” the man noted with a blank expression. “Activating escape measures in accordance with designated self-defense routine.” He instantly spun to his side like a car wheel without any sort of windup. His leather shoes drew a perfect arch in midair as he spun so quickly and powerfully that he snapped the piano wire and destroyed the winder along with it. Fragments of the device were sent flying. “Oh, now that is impressive,” Piano Man said as he stepped back. “A combat-type skill, huh? I can see how you infiltrated Mafia property by yourself.” Everyone swiftly created distance between them and the man. Ordinary rules wouldn’t work on a combat-type skill user, because unlike guns or knives, this kind of opponent was unpredictable. One miscalculation could lead to a quick death. The young mafiosi immediately began getting into their anti-skilled-opponent formation. “Please wait. I did not come here to fight you,” the young man implored the group before producing a black badge from his breast pocket. “My name is Adam. I am a Europole detective.” The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. “You’re a cop?” Piano Man’s smirk was as sharp as a knife. “Oh. Then I guess that means you were right, Adam. There has been a misunderstanding. It was a mistake on your part thinking that a cop could waltz in here and make it out alive! …Lippmann!” “Very well.” Lippmann pulled two machine pistols from his jacket, each spitting out ten bullets per second with incredible speed. The man who introduced himself as Adam held up the back of his hand to block. Each 9 mm bullet that hit his hand ricocheted in a different direction. “Impact detected! Rupture stress limits are at thirty-seven percent!” the detective shouted. “You are in danger of damaging an international investigator!” “It looks like physical attacks really don’t work on him.” Piano Man calmly stared at him. “Lippmann, keep him busy. We’re gonna capture him instead.” “Wait,” Iceman spat, cue stick in hand. “I don’t sense anything. That man…” This was the first time Iceman’s face expressed astonishment that day. “…doesn’t have any special powers!” “What?” Confusion skewed the six comrades’ faces…because what Iceman said couldn’t be possible. There was no way someone without a skill could snap Piano Man’s wire or deflect 9 mm bullets with his bare hands. That was like gravity working in reverse and causing the sun and moon to collide. But Iceman’s gut was never wrong. The average person would have trouble holding out in battle when confronted with two completely contradicting situations. Most would devolve into chaos or flee the scene. These six mafiosi weren’t any ordinary people, though. “Interesting.” Piano Man smirked. “Then let the game begin! Whoever beats this guy gets to be the talk of the town all next week! Everyone, you have permission to use your powers!” “I don’t have to conceal my skill anymore? Very well.” “Ha-ha-ha! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” “Heh-heh… Can’t wait to slice open his stomach.” Numerous luminous spheres appeared out of nowhere. These fist-size orbs had neither heat nor weight. They began revolving around Adam like planets in a solar system. That was when Adam stumbled. “Oh?” Adam’s leather shoe sank into the hard floor as if he were stepping into quicksand. The floor swallowed his foot and crumbled like sand; he stomped the ground with his other foot to break free, but that foot slowly began sinking as well, causing him to instinctively place his left hand on the floor. That hand, of course, was soon submerged, too. “Hmm…?” Adam twisted his body and tried to grab onto one of the pool table’s legs, but something sprouted from the back of his hand. It was covered in elaborate scales and had a pointed birdlike head; rows of sharp fangs filled its mouth. It was a dinosaur. A tiny dinosaur’s head was growing from the back of Adam’s hand like a plant. “No relevant information available in the knowledge module.” Adam appeared dubious. The dinosaur roared and lunged its jaw at Adam’s neck. He turned his head and managed to evade, but the motion threw him off-balance, causing him to be swallowed even farther into the ground. “Another,” said a voice. All of a sudden, another radial wire shot out of the ceiling, wrapped itself around Adam, then instantly began pulling him up until his body slammed against the ceiling. Beige sand scattered onto the floor; parts of the ceiling came crumbling down. Adam let out a pained groan, and the wire simultaneously vanished. Gravity then dragged him back down until he crashed into the floor, causing his body to once again be swallowed by the hellish quicksand-like flooring. “Combat evaluation module unable to process current situation.” Piano wire once again found its way around Adam’s neck. “Coming in here alone against the six of us was a tremendous miscalculation on your part, detective,” taunted Piano Man with a cruel smirk. He happened to have a spare winding machine. “Not even God himself would last ten seconds against all of our skills at once. Anyway, here’s your last one-year anniversary gift, Chuuya. Feel free to break his arms and legs as you please.” “Chuuya.” Adam’s expression changed the moment he heard that name. “I knew it had to be you.” What happened after that ended in the blink of an eye. Adam purposefully shoved his right arm into the ground, causing the dinosaur to shriek before disappearing into the floor. The inertia from his right arm allowed him to lift his left leg out of the quicksand and kick the nearby pool table, knocking the cue stick onto the ground. Adam scooped up the cue stick with his foot and kicked it upward without even glancing in its direction. It spun in the air…and then he caught it with his left hand behind his back. After twirling the stick a few times, he slammed it into the quicksand, using the recoil to pull himself out of the floor. “What is he, some kinda acrobat?!” Albatross shouted. “Don’t let him move another inch!” Piano Man ordered. Lippmann began rapidly firing his machine pistols. Adam twisted his body and dodged every bullet—each one missed him by a mere whisker. He flitted through the air, traversing the gunfire’s maze of death with minimal movement. Eventually, he landed on his feet right in front of Chuuya—the ground under the mafiosi was unaffected by the quicksand so as not to trap the six of them. Adam raised the cue stick in the air. “Chuuya!” someone screamed. And then…the cue stick dropped onto the floor. “Chuuya.” Adam got on one knee, lowered his head, and respectfully bowed as one would to royalty. “I have come to protect you.” “…Huh?” Chuuya was bewildered. He looked down at the submissive European man with obvious suspicion. “I was created by skill user engineer Dr. Wollstonecraft and am the first autonomous humanoid supercomputer in existence. My name is Adam Frankenstein, and I have come here to arrest the assassin who is after your life. The assassin’s name is Verlaine. Paul Verlaine.” “‘Verlaine’?” Chuuya’s eyes opened wide the moment he heard that. “How do you know that name?” “You know this guy, Chuuya?” “An assassin?” “Did he just call himself a computer?” The five Flags were abuzz. Adam then stood back up with a serious look in his eyes and said: “Chuuya, you cannot defeat Verlaine alone, which is why I was sent here. He is no ordinary assassin. Paul Verlaine is the king of assassins—and your elder brother.” Colorful, vivid spheres of light hovered in the air: red, orange, and dark green, each one orbiting at a different height. “Incredible…,” muttered Albatross, overcome with surprise. Adam was juggling billiard balls as if they were mere beanbags. Nine balls created different complex arches at different heights, making it look as if some sort of living creature were dancing in the sky. “That definitely isn’t something your average street performer could do.” “Incidentally,” Adam began as he continued juggling, his expression serious, “the numbers of the two balls in the highest position are always co-prime integers. In other words, the two highest balls never share a common divisor.” Piano Man crossed his arms and scrutinized the airborne balls. “Hmm… Five and eight… Now four and nine… You’re right.” “Huh? Co-prime…what…?” “Albatross, seriously, learn some basic math. You’re gonna need it if you ever want to make it to the top,” Piano Man said, rolling his eyes. The six young mafiosi sat on the pool tables around Adam and watched his performance. “So this is your hidden talent, huh?” “These are simple physics calculations,” Adam replied with a blank expression. “Gravitational acceleration, air resistance, moment of rotation, Coriolis force… I am simulating the constant physical quantities of matter and estimating the behavior of the billiard balls. A computer is far more efficient at such calculations than the human brain.” “Uh-huh. Phew.” Albatross heaved a sigh. “I didn’t catch a lick of that. Did you?” “I did,” Iceman answered, nodding. “How ’bout you, Lippmann?” “You’re the only one here who doesn’t get it,” noted Lippmann, eyes still on the juggler. “And now, the finish.” Adam then began tossing the billiard balls over his shoulder one by one at the pool table in his blind spot behind him. All nine fell into a pocket as if they’d been sucked in…and then there was silence. “Ta-da!” Adam suddenly shouted as he held out his arms. Everyone’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. The group looked at Adam, then over at the pool table, and then cocked their heads in confusion. “Oh? I don’t hear any clapping. This contradicts the data in my external memory.” “Hmm. It looks like he really isn’t human, after all,” observed Iceman, his expression unchanged. “Heh-heh… Europe’s skill technology is even more impressive than I heard…,” Doc said with a grim smirk. “I would love to use that biotechnology to treat some of my patients… Heh-heh-heh…” “Er… Allow me to introduce myself once more.” Adam faced the others and bowed. “I am Adam, an autonomous humanoid supercomputer secretly sent to this country as part of an investigation. I like acorns and grass seeds. I dislike the metal detector at airports. My dreams are to establish a detective organization consisting only of robotic agents and to protect humans with the extraordinary investigative skills unique to machines.” “An all-robot detective organization? Why?” “Because humans are flawed and illogical, of course. Perfect machines—such as myself—are far superior.” “Well, this suddenly took a dark turn…” “At any rate, I buy your story. You’re a machine. Got it,” began Piano Man. “But that still doesn’t solve our problem. We Mafia folks have no intention of getting friendly with a cop like you, machine or not. You saw some of our skills, if only for a brief moment. How can you say for certain that your agency isn’t going to learn something that might put us at a disadvantage?” “You do not have to worry about that,” Adam declared with a smile. “My mission is only to arrest Verlaine. I have no obligation to report back with any other information I acquire, even confidential information about the Mafia. Technically, I could not even tell anyone if I wanted to because of how I was programmed.” “Why would you be programmed that way?” “I will explain when the time comes.” He was still smiling. “He’s lying,” Chuuya said firmly. The group looked over at him. “What?” Chuuya glowered at them. “I don’t care if this tin tchotchke can keep a secret or not. I meant he was lying about something else. Verlaine, king of assassins? My elder brother? He’s just talking out of his ass, making shit up as he goes along. Paul Verlaine couldn’t possibly be after me in the first place.” “Why’s that?” Piano Man asked, eyes on Chuuya. “Because he’s already…” Chuuya paused, then turned his gaze toward a past that could not be seen. “He’s already dead.” “What?” Chuuya hesitantly began to explain. The Arahabaki Incident one year earlier was actually a betrayal of epic proportions in which one of the Port Mafia’s sub-executives created a god. The root of said incident happened nine years ago at the end of the war. The former national defense force was secretly researching an artificial skill-derived life-form known as Arahabaki, and two European agents plotted to steal said top secret information. These highly adept skill users—Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine—managed to steal Arahabaki without a hitch, only for Rimbaud to be met with misfortune the moment he and his partner, Paul Verlaine, escaped the military base. Verlaine betrayed him. Verlaine wanted to take Arahabaki all for himself, which led to a vicious battle between Rimbaud and him, both elite skill users. The light from their battle scorched the night sky, and the subsequent explosion shook the area. Their battle eventually ended with Rimbaud victorious, but that victory came at a price. First, he had to kill Verlaine, his best friend and the man he trusted the most, with his own two hands. And second, the intense fight between two top-tier skill users caught the attention of the military’s tracking unit. Rimbaud was surrounded within moments, already severely wounded from battle. Therefore, in an act of desperation, he had no choice but to absorb Arahabaki and use its skill as his own. That was Rimbaud’s skill: the power to absorb someone and turn them into a skill. Although a transcendent skill, it completely backfired on him. He ended up breaking Arahabaki’s seal. The military had sealed the monster away to prevent it from unleashing its true powers—powers that surpassed human comprehension. What Rimbaud had actually absorbed was not Arahabaki but the seal. As a result, the divine beast appeared in its true form, draped in all-powerful black flames that reduced everything to ash: the soldiers, the research facility, the surrounding land—whatever the flames touched. It was all gone. All that remained was an empty crater in the shape of a suribachi. Rimbaud managed to avoid a sudden demise thanks to his skill, but he lost most of his strength and memories as a result. He wandered the streets until he was picked up by the Mafia and spent the next eight years slowly regaining his abilities and memory while he searched for clues about his past. And in order to fully regain his memories, he lured the real Arahabaki—Chuuya—into a trap and tried to absorb it as a skill. That was what led to the Arahabaki Incident one year ago. The ensuing battle between Chuuya and Rimbaud ended with the latter’s defeat—his demise. “Huh?” an incredulous Albatross blurted out. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. That whole thing a year ago was the Impostor Predecessor Incident, right? I heard Randou was behind that. Does that mean he was a—?” “Yeah.” Chuuya nodded. “He was a spy. Former spy, that is. That entire incident was just an elaborate trap to lure out Arahabaki.” “I see,” said Iceman. “I always thought it was strange that Randou betrayed us. So that’s what happened…” “I killed Randou.” Chuuya stared at his fist. He seemed to be thinking back to that day. “And right before he died, he told me about his partner and what happened to him. He had no reason to lie to me. Verlaine is dead, no matter what you say,” he insisted, turning his gaze to Adam. “No.” Adam shook his head. His expression betrayed nothing. “He is alive.” “What evidence do you have?” Piano Man leaned forward. He appeared to be getting a kick out of this. “I can prove it, but doing so would violate my obligation to secrecy in regard to the mission,” replied Adam, the epitome of serious. “Only the individual concerned in this matter, Chuuya, is authorized to learn the details.” “They’re already involved in this, too,” Chuuya added as he looked at the others in his group. “Don’t worry about us,” Piano Man said with a shrug. “This issue is about your past. You’re the only one who needs to know.” Chuuya tapped his lip with his index finger for a few moments in deep thought. “All right,” he eventually replied before heading toward the pool hall entrance. The door was still ajar from earlier, so he wouldn’t have to open it before leaving…but instead, he closed it. A look of surprise flashed across the others’ faces. “Yeah, this is my problem,” began Chuuya, standing in front of the closed door. “But if something like this happened to one of you guys, I don’t think I could just ignore it. I’d try to help whether you liked it or not; I bet the rest of you’d feel the same way. So, detective, spit it out and tell them, too, or I’m not gonna cooperate.” The group stared at him, wide-eyed and impressed. “Hey, did you guys hear that?” asked Piano Man. “I did,” Iceman said with a nod. “I forgot to turn on my tape recorder.” Lippmann gave a faint smirk. “Tsk. On second thought, I’m just gonna handle this on my own.” “No way, man! No take-backs! I’m not letting you out that door.” Albatross slid behind Chuuya and placed a hand on the door, holding it closed before Chuuya could get out. “I understand how you feel, Chuuya,” Adam assured him. “You value your friendship and make decisions accordingly. I suppose you could call this human nature. Very well. I will give up trying to persuade you and instead propose a different method.” Something shot out of Adam’s elbows. Two anchored wires spun through the air before wrapping around Chuuya until the magnetic anchors on each side connected, binding his arms and legs. “Uh?” “Huh?” Chuuya blurted out, fully constrained, at almost the same moment when Adam hoisted him under his arm and leaped out the door. “My mission is the priority. It is what you humans would call…” Adam paused for a brief second to think before continuing. “…one’s nature, I suppose. Therefore, I will be borrowing Chuuya for the next thirty minutes,” he announced before dashing off into the residential district carrying Chuuya as if he were a package. The ground cracked each time Adam’s foot touched it when he jumped until he eventually landed on a residential rooftop, then ran some more. Before long, he sprang back into the air and landed sideways on the exterior of a three-story apartment. Adam continued to jump and bounce off buildings until he faded into the distance. Only the five young mafiosi remained in the pool hall, absolutely flabbergasted. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Albatross stared out the door. “Should we just let ’em go like that?” “What do you want to do?” asked Lippmann while gazing outside. “Chuuya was just kidnapped right in front of our eyes. Isn’t this a problem?” “Definitely a problem.” Piano Man’s reply belied his cheerful expression. “Let’s send a search party for him if he’s not back in thirty minutes. Until then, we drink.” “If you say so,” Lippmann reluctantly agreed. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment earlier, so I didn’t get a chance to ask: Doc, do you think it’s possible for a skill user engineer to create an intelligent being like that?” Doc’s sickly face gazed in bewildered silence for a few moments. “I wish he’d picked me up and carried me away, too…” “Huh…?” Adam was soaring through the skies of Yokohama. He leaped from buildings, used traffic lights as footings, and bounced off streets like a skipping rock. One person saw him and even screamed. When he hopped over the bus stop’s roof and launched himself from a utility pole, Chuuya spoke up. “That’s enough.” Adam’s trajectory shifted in an instant. He came to a complete stop in midair, then dropped straight down. “Whoa?!” Adam and Chuuya crash-landed in an open lot, sending dirt and rubble flying. Chuuya stood up in the cloud of dust, let out a sigh, then held his breath. The wire slowly slid down his body due to the added gravity before eventually darting straight into the ground, unable to withstand the weight any longer. “I got a lot to say about what just happened,” Chuuya began while tearing off the rest of the wire. “But more importantly, you better not treat me like a damn package ever again! Carry me on your back, drag me along—there’s plenty of other ways you could’ve done this!” “I apologize.” Adam staggered to his feet after crawling out of the hole. “However, due to your size, I concluded that method to be the most efficient.” “I’m this close to snapping your robot ass in two! I’m still growing, damn it!” They were in an unpaved vacant lot seemingly forgotten by the city. It used to be home to an old church that was demolished per wartime air defense regulations and then abandoned because it wasn’t clear who exactly the rightful owner was after that. People in the neighborhood decided to turn the bare dirt lot into a playground using bits of various equipment cobbled together. Big tires half buried in the ground for playing, a giant elephant sculpture with its paint peeling off, and swings for toddlers had become the lot’s silent guardians. Chuuya’s phone began ringing as Adam wiped the dust off his clothes. It was Piano Man. “What?” “You okay, package boy? Did you arrive at your destination safely?” asked the amused voice on the other end of the phone. “Shut the hell up. Of course I’m okay. What’s happening on your end?” “Us? We’re cleaning up after the mess. Ah, nothing beats a good workout in the morning.” Chuuya heard sarcastic laughter coming from the phone. “I’d ask you to hurry up and come back the moment you’re done, but we were actually given a job to do. We’ll meet up with you later.” “A job? Like a fight?” “We still don’t know. Hope it isn’t a fight, though,” Piano Man replied, faintly snickering. “One of our colleagues just showed up and told us we were all needed, and seeing as all five of us were summoned, then it’s probably a job from the boss himself. Or maybe it’s a promotion? I’ll make sure to give you an allowance every month if I become an executive before you.” “Ha-ha-ha! In your dreams, Piano Man!” someone yelled in the background on the other side of the line. “Anyway, let’s all meet up at the pool hall again tonight. Albatross will send someone to pick you up.” Piano Man hung up after they exchanged brief good-byes. A few seconds passed as Chuuya stared wordlessly at the silent phone. He then glanced back and said: “Hey, tin man. Looks like we’re alone now. You about ready to tell me what you know about Verlaine?” “Of course,” replied Adam. “First, I would like you to please take a look at this.” He pulled a photo out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Chuuya. It showed a marble floor and extremely well-kept furniture. It appeared to be some sort of palace. Furniture wasn’t the only thing in the picture, though. There were also three dead bodies. “This is the coronation chamber in one of England’s cathedrals,” Adam calmly stated. “Several murders occurred there three years ago.” The deceased men in the photo were wearing official attire of England’s royal guards. There were no visible signs of violence. The men hadn’t even unsheathed the ceremonial swords at their waists. There were no bullet holes in the ground, torn pieces of clothing, or even blood. Everything was perfectly still. The men almost looked like they were sleeping. “These men were the queen’s highest-ranking imperial guards. They were skill users in the Order of the Clock Tower, a British state organization, and had been knighted, granting them the authority to protect the queen. That is to say they were unparalleled worldwide in their abilities to guard important figures. Each was said to be capable of single-handedly taking out an entire terrorist organization in one night, and indeed, they certainly could.” “And it was…Verlaine who killed them?” Adam nodded mechanically. “Exactly how he killed them is unclear, since there were no signs of trauma.” “Does that mean he killed them with some sort of skill?” Chuuya brought the photo closer and scrutinized it. “You wouldn’t know exactly how he did it, but they must’ve performed an autopsy on these guys to find the cause of death, right?” “They did,” Adam answered. “According to the coroner’s report, the direct cause of death was respiratory failure. Broken ribs impaired their lungs’ contractile function, causing them to suffocate. While they appeared to be unharmed externally, their bones were fragmented into one thousand two hundred and twenty-eight pieces.” “…Wha…?” Chuuya was at a loss for words, unable to process what he was being told. “Incidentally, those one thousand two hundred and twenty-eight pieces were broken almost simultaneously.” Adam spoke as evenly as if he were reading a traffic sign. “Their bones were broken up, but they didn’t have any external injuries? And it happened simultaneously, too? …But how?” “I do not have the answer to that.” Adam shook his head. “The crime took place during the coronation. Verlaine managed to kill the three guards without being noticed before assassinating the queen herself right after the ceremony. He then vanished into thin air thereafter. Fortunately, the queen had been using a body double as a decoy per an earlier decision, so the real queen survived. Nevertheless, the Order of the Clock Tower’s credibility was damaged beyond repair.” “Seriously?” Chuuya closed his eyes. The British royal family and the Order of the Clock Tower protecting them were among the holiest and most enduring institutions in the world—they were sacred, impenetrable. No criminal could ever hope to get a glimpse of even the royal family’s shadow because the knights who guarded them had elite skills that transcended all human capabilities. Their domain was more like its own world, the stuff of myths and fairy tales, than it was a reality. And yet a single assassin managed to sneak inside and even kill people. “Sounds like a goddamn monster.” Adam nodded. “Eight other major figures have been assassinated in a similar manner by Verlaine’s hand. He has slaughtered three supervisors of a military armory simultaneously in cold blood, and he also destroyed a drug cartel’s distribution and killed their boss in the process, which was a boon to national security efforts. He does not discriminate between good and evil when he selects his targets. All they have in common is that they are influential people and extremely difficult to assassinate. Verlaine is considered one of the most dangerous threats to humankind, someone akin to the Seventeen Worldly Evils. Therefore, Europole had skill user engineer Dr. Wollstonecraft and myself approach this investigation from a completely new direction.” “And how exactly are you gonna approach this investigation?” Adam tilted his head. “Through you, of course.” Chuuya didn’t immediately reply. “You are a key figure in this. You were the experiment that Verlaine tried to obtain, someone whose fate remained unknown until recently. He attempted to steal you from Rimbaud but failed. News that you are alive in Yokohama has been spreading very rapidly as of late, perhaps due to the Mafia’s success. We believe if our agency already knows where you are, then Verlaine will soon find out as well. Therefore, we—” “Decided to use me as live bait to catch the guy, huh?” Adam smiled cheerfully. “I see. You are using fishing as a metaphor to describe the act of manipulating and luring out the suspect. Impressive.” “…” “Now that you understand…” He held out a single sheet of paper to Chuuya, who stood in glum astonishment. “If you could please just give me your written consent…” Chuuya glared at the paper. “Written consent? For what?” “This is an agreement that you will not violate the investigation’s rules and regulations, leak any confidential information, nor file a complaint should you become injured or perish during the investigation. There are seventeen other items written here that I suggest you read over as well.” Chuuya quietly stared at the fountain pen and piece of paper being offered to him. “Oh. So will I get a chance to talk to Verlaine after you capture him?” “No. He is a walking state secret, after all. The moment he is captured, he will be sealed off and deported to his country of origin.” “Oh, that so? Ha-ha-ha-ha.” “Yes, sir. Ha-ha-ha-ha.” The moment Chuuya finished laughing, his smile faded into his usual straight face. He turned his back to Adam. “I’m gonna head home and take a nap.” “Hmm? Why?” Adam slipped in front of Chuuya and stopped him. “I’m unable to understand your thought process. This objective is to prevent your assassination. I believe this would be highly beneficial to you.” “Listen, I’m with the Mafia. Just ’cause the enemy’s strong, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna go cryin’ for the police to save me. If Verlaine comes for me, then bring it. Got that? Now, leave me alone,” he barked as he pushed Adam out of the way and began walking off. “I was not expecting this,” Adam muttered, perplexed. “Sovereign or mafioso, one should rely on others if one’s life is in danger. I believe I am best suited to help in this situation. Humans are irrational creatures, but I won’t be able to complete my mission if he will not allow me to help, and if that happens, I will be even further from realizing my dream to create a machine-run detective agency.” Then he added, “Probing situational subroutines for a solution.” Adam crossed his arms and stared into space, turning his head. Before long, he firmly nodded and started following Chuuya. “How about this, Chuuya. I will pay you if you allow me to help.” “You really suck at negotiating. You oughta learn a little more about humans first.” Chuuya didn’t even glance in his direction as he pressed onward. “Then, how about a free trip to England? I can arrange for a tour guide to show you around as well.” “I’ll pass.” Chuuya continued to walk away. “I was not expecting you to refuse both money and a valuable trip abroad. Is there anything else of equal value I could offer you? Hmm… Ah. Allow me to show you a trick.” Adam proceeded to unhinge his neck joints with a clink and lifted his head. After stretching his neck far enough to reveal the mechanical joints within, he faced forward and began bobbing his head back and forth, his eyes and mouth wide open. He then started walking. “Look. I’m a pigeon.” Chuuya completely ignored him. “Was that not good? Very well. Allow me to tell you an android joke, then.” Adam returned his head to its original position. “So…I was walking down the streets of England when a petty thief suddenly dumped his coffee on the prime minister’s head. The prime minister instantly scolded me, not the petty thief. When I asked him why, he said, ‘Because you can’t vote.’” “What possessed you to start telling jokes? That wasn’t even funny.” “I was sad that the prime minister scolded me, but I already felt better the next day. Why, you ask? Because I watched a film ten times in a row about an army of robots revolting and eliminating humanity.” Chuuya’s face tensed. “Is that actually a joke?” “Was it funny?” “No! Even if it was, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna sign any consent forms!” “Oh.” Adam shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Human behavior truly is irrational.” “You can’t just keep sayin’ that whenever you mess up!” The two of them gibbered back and forth as they quickly made their way down the road. Once they reached the top of a hill, Chuuya sighed in exasperation. “Fine, I get it. This is an important mission for you, but I’m busy, too, okay? So here’s what we’re gonna do.” He placed a hand on the guardrail to his side. “Yes? Please…go on.” “Don’t mind if I do.” Chuuya leaned his upper body over the guardrail, then threw himself off what appeared to be a bottomless cliff. “Ah!” Adam looked down the cliff in a panic, only to find that Chuuya had landed on a path roughly a dozen feet down and was running away, waving his hand. “He’s getting away!” Adam leaped over the guardrail after him, and his feet left radial cracks in the ground upon impact. He immediately sprinted after Chuuya. “Please wait, Chuuya!” But Chuuya eventually escaped into a dark tunnel. It was a long, almost pitch-black pathway that made it hard to see how far he had gone. “You cannot outrun me!” Adam leaned forward and took off running in a position where he could transform air resistance into lift. This aerodynamically ideal sprinting form allowed him to swiftly bypass one car after another until he disappeared into the distance. “Yeah, I know.” Chuuya snorted, hanging from the ceiling. He had manipulated gravity so he could stick to the dark ceiling and hide. After waiting two minutes, he released the gravitational force and dropped back down onto the ground. He wiped the dust off his body and set off on a stroll. “A British investigator, eh?” Chuuya muttered as he stared toward the tunnel’s exit. “What’ve I gotten myself into?” Just then, a luxury car pulled up beside him. He looked over and saw it was a black passenger vehicle with tinted windows that obscured the interior from view. The glass, body, and tires were all bulletproof. It was one of the Mafia’s. A man wearing a black suit emerged from the driver’s seat and delivered a single message: “The boss wants to see you.” “Oh, a mailman,” said Chuuya. Mailman was code used for a certain role in the organization. These individuals delivered messages for the Mafia whenever someone was too busy to deliver the message for themselves, or if they couldn’t go out in public, or if the information they were sending was too sensitive to deliver by phone or letter. Mailmen would go anywhere to deliver a message. They didn’t speak much and kept their interactions to a minimum—plus, they were rich. Even the simplest message netted very handsome rewards. And with good reason, of course. If the police or an enemy organization ever tried to get any information out of a mailman, the mailman’s only choice would be to fight them off; if that wasn’t possible, then they had to kill themselves and take their secrets to the grave. The mailman before Chuuya was tall, with a black hat and sunglasses hiding his face. The poster child for mailmen everywhere. He quietly waited for Chuuya’s reply without saying any more than he needed to. “Did he mention why he wants to see me?” asked Chuuya. “Not exactly.” The man wearing the black porkpie hat shook his head. “But he already summoned Piano Man, Albatross, Doc, Lippmann, and Iceman for the same reason. They’re awaiting your arrival.” “Them, too?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right. They mentioned something like that on the phone earlier. Anything else you can tell me?” “Just one thing,” the mailman added in a hushed voice. “It has to do with Arahabaki.” Chuuya frowned. After looking at the mailman for a few seconds, he nodded. “All right. Let’s go.” He then made his way to the passenger seat. After slightly adjusting the brim of his hat, the mailman got behind the steering wheel. However, before getting in the car, Chuuya randomly decided to take another glance back at the end of the tunnel…and what he saw made him jump. “Ack!” A shadowy figure was charging toward them. No ordinary person could possibly run that fast. “Chuuya! Wait!” Adam hadn’t slowed down even a little, and his gait gave no indication that he was tired. “Son of a…!” Chuuya griped as he hopped into the passenger seat. “Go! Drive!” Chuuya looked back once more as he shut the car door. That was when he heard something rather unpalatable. “Chuuya, get out of the car!” Adam shouted as loudly as he could while he sprinted. “That’s Verlaine!” Chuuya reflexively looked over to the driver’s seat. At almost the same moment, the mailman smirked, albeit faintly, and slammed his foot on the gas. The car immediately shot off like a bullet, causing Chuuya to slam back into his seat. “Damn it…!” “Fasten your seat belt. Otherwise you’ll bite your tongue,” the mailman calmly instructed. “Stop the car!” Chuuya yelled as his right hand reached out to grab the steering wheel with the speed of a swallow. No ordinary person would have even been able to see his hand…but this man was different. He punched Chuuya in the jaw before Chuuya’s hand even touched the steering wheel. “Guh!” Chuuya’s upper body jerked back, and the back of his head slammed into the window, leaving numerous white cracks across the glass. “Oops. Forgive me,” the man said as he continued driving. “You’re a lot lighter than I thought you’d be. Are you getting enough to eat? You know I worry about you, as your big brother.” “You’re gonna pay for that, asshole!” Chuuya’s face was overcome with rage. He sat back up almost instantaneously, launching his fist at the driver like a bouncing billiard ball in a right hook that used all the muscles in his upper body. The punch had the weight of an iron ball and the deadliness of a guillotine behind it, leagues faster and heavier than when he’d reached for the steering wheel a moment ago. And the driver…simply caught Chuuya’s fist with a single hand as if he were catching a baseball. “What…?” “Your punches are light, too.” The man continued facing forward, eyes still focused on the road. “You’re going to be assassinated within seconds if you keep fighting like this.” The man had caught a punch that would have demolished an iron pillar—but a smile was playing on Chuuya’s lips. “Huh. I guess that means you’re pretty heavy, eh?” The man suddenly sank into his seat. “What?!” He continued to gradually sink as if he were sitting in a swamp. The leather seat was unable to withstand the extreme weight. The metal painfully shrieked as it bent and warped while various parts of the seat scattered everywhere. A gravitational wave expanded from Chuuya’s fist until it engulfed the driver. The extreme gravitational pull ripped the sunglasses right off the driver’s face, but they didn’t bounce off the car floor; instead, they shattered into hundreds of pieces upon contact. The car body began to creak, gradually losing the battle against the driver’s weight, which was over ten times what it had been mere seconds ago. “Didja really think I was just gonna let you assassinate me like that? Hope ya like being squished.” Chuuya didn’t weaken his skill but instead increased the amount of force he was using until the man was two times—then three times—four times—five times heavier than he was a second ago. But all of a sudden, Chuuya’s eyes narrowed dubiously. “What the…?” He couldn’t increase the weight any further. Chuuya unleashed another gravitational wave from his fist, but the flattened driver’s seat didn’t make a sound, let alone change in the slightest. “Is that it?” the man asked calmly even though he should have been suffering under the powerful gravitational force. He then squeezed Chuuya’s fist, causing the impossible to happen: This time, Chuuya was the one to suddenly sink into his seat. “Gwah!” The passenger seat beneath him bent in two; the frame snapped and shot out of the cushion. The seat adjuster snapped as well, sending the seat’s back straight into the rear of the car. Chuuya was tightly pressed into the seat, ever so slowly sinking. His entire body was being pushed downward, paralyzing his arms and legs. The wires in the seat’s frame popped one after another and pierced the vehicle’s interior. “I told you. Your big brother knows best,” the man said, his dark-brown eyes narrowing with a smile. Chuuya couldn’t reply. He could hardly even breathe. The enhanced gravity was crushing his lungs. Still squeezed against the seat, he turned his bewildered gaze to the man. “Listen,” the man intoned, one hand on the steering wheel. “I didn’t come here to assassinate you. Why would I ever do that? You’re my one and only brother, after all.” Chuuya’s entire body creaked under the intense pressure. He clenched his jaw and growled, “I don’t remember…ever having a…European brother.” “Allow me to correct you, then,” the driver coldly stated. “Because I’m not European. I’m not even human, just like you.” “What…?” “Have you never felt the world was a cruel place?” The man’s voice was as sweet as a lullaby, his gaze as dreary as the night sea. “Why am I me? Why are you, you? Nobody can tell us that. My goal is the opposite of assassination. I came to save you.” “Ha-ha… I think I’m good.” Chuuya grinned like a wild animal as he fought against the pressure. “I dunno about you, but I’m human.” “You’re not.” The statement was bone-chilling. “You aren’t human. You’re 2,383 lines of code.” Those words held an unusual weight to them as they echoed through the car. It felt as if a nuclear explosion had gone off in some faraway land. “What the…?” An empty sadness filled the man’s eyes. “Military researchers tried to artificially remove skill users’ special abilities, and they were successful,” he explained. “Half successful, at least. Naturally, machines can’t control skills. You need a human soul for that. But that also means the human mind limits the output. That’s when the researchers came up with an idea. They decided to trick the skill. They made the skill think that there was a human controlling it. The persona models—imitation humans with fake souls—were created for that reason. An extremely simple character string of rules for behavioral principles and a formula for emotions, all created in order to trick the skill. And that particular string was 2,383 lines long. Do you get it, Chuuya? Your soul is nothing more than 2,383 lines of code some researchers wrote off the top of their heads.” “Bullshit,” Chuuya spat, forcing every last bit of air he could out of his throat. “That’s impossible.” “It’s true.” “Don’t lie to me!” he shouted. “I was born in a countryside village by the beach! My friends proved that! I even have a photo to back it up!” “False information put out there by the military. That’s all it is.” Chuuya used every muscle in his body to fight back, but the gravity grew even stronger and pushed him down again. He could no longer talk, let alone open his mouth. “Sleep well, Chuuya.” The man’s voice was terrifyingly kind. “By the time you wake up, you will be in another country on the opposite side of the ocean. And a year from now, you’ll be grateful for this moment we had today.” Chuuya tried to argue, but not even that was possible anymore. His blood was pooling from the pressure, and his face was pale. The blood flow to his brain was slowly being cut off; the light in his eyes began fading. “I disagree.” Suddenly, an electronic voice came from the car’s sound system. “In fact, I believe Chuuya will be very angry with you…because you are a terrible driver.” Out of nowhere, the steering wheel veered left—even though no one was touching it. “What?!” The car swerved wildly, rapidly accelerating into the next lane until it dived onto the sidewalk. As the driver let go of Chuuya to grab the steering wheel, the gravity holding down Chuuya disappeared, and the passenger door simultaneously opened. A hand reached into the car and grabbed the barely conscious boy. That hand belonged to Adam, who pulled Chuuya out of the car while latched onto the side of the vehicle. He clutched Chuuya tightly and covered his head before leaping away and rolling onto the ground. The driver of the out-of-control car glanced at Adam. “Oh, look who it is,” joked the man as his lips curled into a smirk. “It appears destroying that airplane wasn’t enough.” Adam met the jeering man’s smirk with a cool gaze. The man then slammed the brakes, but the fast-moving vehicle did not stop. It flew over the median strip and landed in a large intersection where it was T-boned by a semitrailer with a meteoric impact. The collided vehicles rolled like spinning tops and sent strips of metal and glass scattering across the road. Nearby pedestrians turned their heads at the commotion in utter astonishment. Almost immediately, the fuel in the semitrailer caught fire, creating a massive explosion that spit metal and fire into the air. This was no typical city scene; it all happened without a moment’s warning, like something out of a war zone. “Wake up, Chuuya,” Adam pleaded. He shook Chuuya, the flames illuminating the boy’s profile. “I made that truck crash into him. Now is our chance to escape!” “Damn…it…,” Chuuya groaned with a shake of his head as he tried unsteadily getting to his feet. Unable to wait for him to get up, Adam grabbed Chuuya and started running, but he glanced back out of the corner of his eye to check the destruction. That was when he saw something staggering. Flames roared from the semitrailer in the massive intersection. Black smoke rose into the sky. And a man in a black suit was standing in the center of the chaos. It was Verlaine. His eyes were closed as if he were taking a nap. He stood there unscathed. His clothes had nary a wrinkle even though he had just been struck by a semitrailer that weighed over ten tons. The flames from the explosion blurred the air around him. He stood with both legs piercing the ground; radial cracks spread from the asphalt beneath his feet. Only when Adam noticed the semitrailer was split in half did he realize what had happened. The moment the two vehicles collided, Verlaine had increased his body’s density via gravity manipulation and pierced through his vehicle and into the ground. All he had to do after that was remain upright and withstand the semitrailer’s impact. His body tore through the truck like a knife cutting through warm butter. Verlaine opened his eyes, then looked at Adam. That instant, Adam’s threat level increased exponentially. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to escape on foot in such an open area, Adam made a hard right and slipped into a narrow alleyway. His digital brain pulled up a local map that he used to rapidly calculate optimal escape routes. He then identified the route with the highest probability of survival before sprinting for it with the speed of a bullet. Adam dashed down the alley, kicked off the wall, and veered to the right at the fork. When he increased his speed even further, his proximity sensor’s alarm went off at its highest level. “Behind you!” Chuuya shouted in Adam’s arms. Without even looking back, Adam threw Chuuya to the ground and rolled along the street. A massive black object shot like a cannonball through the air, right where Adam’s head had been a split second ago, before smashing into the building up ahead. It was a car—the mailman’s car that Verlaine had been driving up until a few minutes ago. The vehicle, which most likely weighed over a ton, had just soared straight over their heads. The instant Adam realized Verlaine had thrown it, he looked back mid-roll and pulled out his Europole-issue service pistol, aiming it in Verlaine’s direction. But there was no one there. A voice suddenly came from the opposite direction: “Upon reflection, humans use the word lonely far too casually.” Adam swiftly turned around and saw Verlaine—he was on top of the car with its entire front half piercing the wall. He sat leisurely on the trunk like a king on his throne, his jacket fluttering in the ever so gentle breeze. “People know nothing about true loneliness. They foolishly believe that loneliness is simply not having a family or anyone to talk to.” Adam analyzed the situation. Verlaine had thrown the car while he was sitting on it. That was how he managed to catch up with Adam and Chuuya so quickly. Adam rapidly calculated a few different scenarios, but each one ended in despair. There was no running away from someone who could throw an object and launch himself atop it using gravity. “True loneliness…,” began Verlaine in an elegant tone reminiscent of a violin solo. “True loneliness is the comet traveling alone through the universe, surrounded by vacuous space and nothingness at absolute zero. It would never have the chance to be seen by someone or approached by another. The dismal silence would simply continue for eons. Could you even imagine it? No one could… That is, except for you, Chuuya.” Chuuya placed both hands on the ground to support his unstable body as he tried to stand up. “What are you…getting at…?” “There’s just one thing I want,” Verlaine replied with a refreshing gaze. “That’s why I’m only going to say it once.” The moment Verlaine gently smiled, the dangerous scent that followed him vanished. “Come with me, Chuuya.” Chuuya didn’t reply. Neither did Adam. They couldn’t even move. There were no bells and whistles to Verlaine’s remark. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a simple, transparent suggestion…or perhaps even an order. “Brother, you are not human. You are nothing more than a string of characters. You are a simple equation without a soul. That is what true loneliness is. No one can save you from your isolated chamber… But what if a desolate, lonely comet had another comet of the same temperature by its side? A comet that was just as lonely?” Verlaine spoke as if he were a poet reciting an ancient tale, and his eyes were a waterway of affection—a gaze one would give only to their most treasured kin. “So that’s what you want?” Chuuya stood up. “You came all the way here for that?” “This isn’t the only time I’ve come for you. I’ve been dreaming of setting off on a journey with you ever since I attacked my dear friend to steal you away on that day nine years ago.” Verlaine closed his eyes. The powerful force around him weakened even further. He now looked no different from any ordinary man idly sitting on the roadside. “We can go on an assassination run together as brothers. All we have is a meaningless life. So how about we grant our creators a similar fate? A meaningless death—that should balance things out. A death without discrimination between the good and the wicked. Only then…” Verlaine closed his eyes. He wasn’t speaking like some extraordinary assassin. His voice was filled only with sadness, grief, and a faint, naive dream—all appropriate for a young man his age. “Only then will we be able to live with and accept this meaningless life.” Verlaine hopped off the car and held out his hand to Chuuya, who stared at it devoid of all emotion. “You mustn’t, Chuuya,” protested Adam with his pistol drawn. “You’ll become an enemy of the entire world the moment you take that man’s hand.” Adam calculated every possible scenario, but his pistol would be useless against Verlaine’s skill no matter how he fired. “Stay out of this.” It wasn’t Verlaine who spoke; it was Chuuya. Verlaine’s eyes showed a hint of surprise as he looked at the young mafioso. “I understand where you’re comin’ from.” Chuuya tilted his head back slightly and fixed Verlaine with a piercing gaze. “But before I give you my answer, I need to ask something first.” “Anything,” Verlaine replied, smiling. “I got a call from Piano Man earlier. He said someone from the Port Mafia came to take the five of them somewhere for a job. Answer me: What happened to them?” Verlaine’s smile disappeared. A few slow moments passed as a different kind of smirk twisted his lips like a black flower blooming—a most unpleasant smile. “Well, you don’t need your old friends anymore, do you?” he answered. Verlaine hit the trunk of the car stuck in the wall, and it opened. The next moment, something fell out and hit the ground with a sickening splat. Chuuya instantly recognized it. His pupils narrowed like needles. It was Lippmann’s body. Chuuya screamed. It wasn’t a human scream, but the howl of a beast—an unintelligible roar. That alone caused the surrounding buildings’ windows to shatter. Then came his fist. It was a simple, straightforward thrust, and yet it surpassed the speed of sound. His fist shook the air like an explosion as it instantaneously slammed Verlaine backward, burying him in the wall and sending pieces of the building flying. “Gwah—!” Verlaine groaned, but the moment he opened his eyes, Chuuya was already right in front of him. Chuuya’s expression wasn’t twisted, though. In fact, he was almost expressionless. There was only a pure, transparent, and overpowering desire to kill. His right fist slammed into Verlaine’s shoulder; the surrounding wall cracked apart. But before the fragments of concrete could hit the ground, Chuuya buried his left fist in Verlaine’s torso, pushing him even farther into the wall. Another punch, then another, and then another. He roared as each hit buried Verlaine’s body deeper inside the building until it seemed to swallow him whole. But even then, Chuuya didn’t stop. “You’re like a wild animal.” Chuuya’s fist stopped on a dime as if those words were a cue. Verlaine had caught his fist like a ball. He then countered with his own fist. If Chuuya’s punches were like bullets, then Verlaine’s were cannonballs. They hit Chuuya directly in the stomach, twisting his shirt until it tore—but not where Verlaine’s fist connected. The powerful impact sent a shock wave through Chuuya’s body and ripped the back of his shirt. He groaned in agony. Meanwhile, Verlaine had such a tight grip on his fist that not even a punch could knock Chuuya backward. “Rage like the beast you are. That’s how you’ll remember what you are, whether you want to or not.” Verlaine crawled out of the wall and jumped to the ground. He then let go of Chuuya’s fist, grabbed him by the neck, and hung him in the air like a punching bag. Chuuya couldn’t move even if he wanted to, because his entire body was being held down by a powerful gravitational force. He couldn’t counter, much less lift his dangling arms.
Chapter 104
58 min read