Sayaka couldn’t shake her sense of unease.
She was in what might be called a huge living room inside Babylon Palace. Sweet scents caressed her nose. The currents of air carried with them the hint of jasmine.
Three days had passed since she’d entered this castle in the sky. According to the old legends, these were the Floating Gardens of Babylon. Except that the gardens were inside the palace, and did not comprise the structure itself.
The ziggurat-shaped structure formed from the many terraces was said to sit on a square foundation twelve-hundred feet to a side and fifty feet high.
The basic building material was stone. First, reeds were laid over the stones, and with not a crack showing, covered with natural asphalt. Then came two courses of bricks, the spaces filled with plaster and carefully overlaid with sheets of lead. This became the foundation.
Each terrace was piled with generous amounts of earth and every species of plant and flower known to sixth century B.C. The glittering array of colors created the illusion of a truly floating world.
The meticulous work revealed in the construction of the foundation could be rightly praised for its ruggedness, but its primary task was making it watertight so that the plants and flowers could be bathed with water.
Enormous amounts of water were scooped up from the Euphrates and stored in huge tanks at the top of the terraces. The lower levels were supplied through pipes. Automatic sprinklers kept the gardens continually and uniformly watered.
Some archaeologists theorized that hundreds of slaves turned a water wheel that deposited water from the river in the tanks using leather buckets. Others held that screw-driven pumps did the job. In any case, no evidence remained to support either claim.
The gardens rose to a height of three hundred and fifty feet. Taking into account the technology of the time, it was hard to imagine how they managed to pump water that high.
According to calculations by one architect, the garden must have weighed in the vicinity of seven million tons, besting the six-point-eight million of the Great Pyramid of Giza.
Surely the kind of project that could only have been undertaken by an ancient despot. Not to mention it was built for the enjoyment of a single woman—
Sayaka interrupted the stream of information implanted by the auto-suggestion machines in the Japan section of the World Federation Government Information Bureau, sat back on the sofa, and looked at Doctor Mephisto.
She felt a burning sensation in her chest. That was how comely the man was.
The silky long hair, the black garb, the golden embroidery and pendant glittering against his chest—accessories that would look gaudy and pretentious and downright strange on any other man—only served in this case to magnify the young doctor’s beauty.
Sayaka had made it a rule to never judge a man by his outward appearance, and yet she couldn’t help herself here. Ten out of ten women would have the same reaction.
Then there was the case of the famous Hollywood actress who betrayed her lover and was in turn infected by a demon that manifested itself in the form of spreading tumors with sentient, speaking faces. When Mephisto operated on her, even those cancerous countenances gaped at him in wonder.
After she was cured, the woman despaired of returning to Hollywood, appealed to the Foreign Ministry without success, and was finally confined to her bed with hysteria. Long story short, she had been bewitched by Doctor Mephisto as well.
Sayaka didn’t realize it herself, but within the fever gripping her thoughts, an eerie essence she was quite unfamiliar with coolly entwined its brilliant threads about her. This was that unapproachable secret that set women’s hearts on fire, that kept them at arm’s length while drawing them like moths to the flame to the handsome doctor.
Since coming to work in Shinjuku, Sayaka had heard rumors aplenty about Doctor Mephisto. They had met on several occasions since the previous incident. He was not a bad man—in the conventional meaning of being driven by or to evil ends.
Which was why patients at death’s door sought him out day and night.
However, the conventional meaning of good could definitely not be attached to him either. Loan sharks who showed up at the hospital to extract their pound of flesh from his patients were summarily ejected. If it didn’t end there, they’d be dragged down to the autopsy room and cut to pieces to provide the parts to heal the proper patients.
Needless to say, such terrors had a profoundly deterrent effect. At the same time, considering the rapacious thugs such “treatments” were reserved for, it was hard not to smile and be grateful.
Mephisto was the one who had brought her to this palace. In the evening three days before, having vanquished the monster Ogdora, a woman’s voice had called out behind them.
When they’d turned around, standing there was the beautiful woman who’d sent a chill through Sayaka’s heart in the coffee shop near Kawadacho Philanthropic Hospital.
“What do you want?” Mephisto asked.
“The magician who destroyed even Ogdora—would he wish to try his hand at unraveling one of the spirit world’s great mysteries?”
“What would that be?” Mephisto asked, taking up a protective stance next to Sayaka.
The woman then made the startling declaration that she was Semiramis. The conversation lasted no more than a minute, and concluded with her stating, “If that is your desire, then on to the palace.”
All the more surprising was Mephisto’s reaction. “Well, how about it?” he said. “True, caution might seem the better part of valor here. Logic dictates that the lamb escaping the jaws of the wolf should not seek shelter in the lion’s den. Say the word and I shall gladly escort you home. Should we end up in the lair of a demon god, not only shall I, Doctor Mephisto, be there with you, but I swear that not one finger shall bruise your fair skin. And should the time come, I will take you to safe ground. Moreover, the way I see it, as with Demon City the fate of this palace is aligned with cosmic forces. You hold the key to unlocking it. What do you say? Shall we enjoy a relaxing stroll around?”
His low measured voice, like a lullaby, left her betwixt and between. The lack of compulsion in and of itself was compelling. And they’d hardly be taking a relaxing stroll around the palace’s mysterious precincts.
And yet, Sayaka’s heart said yes. She’d hardly hesitated a moment. Hidden within the apparent irresponsibility of Mephisto’s proposition was a fount of scientific intrigue that anyone other than her would probably have missed. She was beginning to grasp as well that he had correctly identified her as the key to the whole affair.
The only solution was to go. Whatever was waiting for her—whatever awful fate awaited her there—she would put a stop to the weirdness. With Doctor Mephisto along with her, what could go wrong?
Besides—the face of the jaunty young man rose up in her thoughts like a spring light — Kyoya would definitely come for her.