Chapter 17

What mattered was the man sitting sideways in the chair, facing them. He was a small man, even considering that he was seated. You couldn’t even get away with flattering him by calling him good-looking—to be blunt, he was even ugly. His clothes were average, not especially clean or dirty, and he looked like an average blue-collar man you might encounter anywhere. The only thing that stood out about him was the pipe in his mouth, but that was just how unremarkable he was. Norman knew at a glance—he was an Unlaw. He had the rough aura of someone accustomed to violence. His eyes were dark, as if resigned to everything, but there was a dull gleam in their depths. He wasn’t surprised to see Norman or Clareth—if anything, he seemed to expect them, nodding with indifference as if to say he’d already foreseen this outcome. “…Oh?” “…Clareth?” Her arm still twined around Norman’s, she betrayed a hint of surprise. It was an unusual expression for her. “…And who might you be? Are you the mastermind behind this trainjacking? What’s your goal?” “My name is Nocker Cromwell. Let’s see… My goal is to either kill you or recruit you.” “Excuse me?” “Hmm.” For a few moments, both Norman and Clareth froze. It was no surprise that he was the mastermind of the trainjacking, but that his goal was to either kill or recruit Norman and Clareth? Wasn’t he after the cargo or trying to assassinate someone important? “Let’s talk, Hamish. We have plenty of time since this train is no longer headed to the capital.” “You switched tracks midway, right?” “You’re a sharp as ever. Let me explain it to you simply, Norman Hamish. I was once in the same situation as that fairy over here.” “…I get it.” Norman nodded, understanding with a single word. “You were one of Cartesius’s Unlaw?” “That’s right.” Nocker replaced his pipe between his lips. “I was discarded by Cartesius in Bardium.” He exhaled a heavy puff of smoke, his words carrying no emotion. He spoke only the facts, concisely, like his ability to feel had been eroded away. Norman didn’t recognize him, meaning he must have been discarded over a year and a half ago. “I came close to death but didn’t die. That’s why I’m active where I am.” “Where would that be?” “The Unlaw Rights Movement.” “Excuse me?” “My goal is to make the existence of Unlaw public and secure their human rights.” “…” Human rights—for Unlaw? Norman stood still, his mouth hanging open in surprise, and even Clareth’s smile was frozen in place. “I knew you’d be on this train.” “Who told you?” “The trainjacking and cargo recovery are secondary. Did you know, Fairy, that you’re one of the most useful and dangerous monsters in Cartesius?” “Mr. Norman? He’s ignoring you.” “I know human rights for Unlaw must seem absurd. But the way they’re treated is appalling. Airystep, I hear you attend a girls’ academy in Bardium? Are your colleagues free to leave, too, as long as they file a post-event report?” “Well, that’s because Mr. Norman loves us…” “That’s only the case for you four. Our living quarters were assigned, and we had nearly no freedom to leave.” “…” Clareth trembled minutely, like she’d remembered something. In fact, she’d lived in those conditions herself. “I know you played a part in getting those restrictions relaxed, Hamish. Well done.” “…Thanks?” Norman wasn’t sure what to say, being praised out of nowhere. “But that’s still not enough. The Twins in the capital are developing anti-Unlaw weapons. If they succeed, we won’t even be useful anymore. That’s why—” The small man spoke with quiet intensity. “We Unlaw need to be liberated. We have the power to fight—now we need funds, time, and manpower.” “Is that possible?” “Of course, Hamish. If you join me, the four from Bardium will follow. That would make it somewhat doable.” “…I see. You’ve given this some serious thought.” Norman thought seriously lobbying for human rights for Unlaw was absurd. If the world realized their existence, it would mean a return to the witch hunts of the Middle Ages at best. “Hmm.” As far-fetched as the idea was, there was no trace of joking in Nocker’s voice or demeanor. The little man was serious, like a determined miner who kept doggedly swinging his pickax at a promised vein of gold—whether it existed or not, he would keep digging until he found it. “I see.” And then Norman realized something. A mind that sought to distort its surroundings—to distort the very nature of what existed around it to fit its own shape. “You’re a Distortion Type, aren’t you?” “I am.” Distortion Types had qualities that distinctly differentiated them from other Unlaw. Their ability and spirit were focused outward—on their environment. They explicitly distorted things other than themselves, including the matter their powers affected, and the people their presence distorted. They distorted matter, people, and common sense. Incidents caused by Distortion Types tended to be the largest scale among all Unlaw. Clareth was no exception. “You’re a quick study, Hamish. Then I’ll just ask you. I’m going to distort the world into a future where Unlaw can live. Will you help me? You want that, too, don’t you?” “Hmm.” There was something Norman liked about how he only said what mattered, with no time wasted, but Norman wasn’t happy-go-lucky enough to make a decision based on liking the man. “I do have a question.” “What is it? I’ll answer as best I can.” “Did you have a reason for killing the passengers?” Norman didn’t know whether the people who were killed deserved it, but there was no reason for them to be caught up in this and killed. “No,” Nocker said, as artless as someone striking steel with a sledgehammer. “I killed them because they were in my way. I couldn’t deal with so many civilians, so I killed them.” “I see,” Norman said with a nod. “Clareth, I’ll acknowledge that I lost the bet.” “Oh my, are you sure?” “Yes, we’re done here.” His words were unusually cold and empty—so much so that it was unsettling. It might have been easier in the long run to neutralize him without killing him and have him give the same speech to Cartesius, but more importantly— “We’ll deal with him here.” The bet had been about the culprit’s motive. But after hearing Nocker’s story, there was no reason to spare him. Norman couldn’t let a monster who killed people because they were in the way stay alive. “I didn’t think he would be this beyond saving.” “Hmm. I’m glad to see this side of you, Mr. Norman, but…” The Fairy took a step forward, her movements light and unaffected by the terrible vibrations. Maintaining her otherworldly aura, she rapped the floor with her wand. A soft thunk echoed. “Spriggan Hand! Dwerkknock!” And—nothing happened. “Clareth?” “Hmm, I knew it wouldn’t work. We’re both Category Three.” “I told you I knew you’d be on this train.” Nocker rose. He was indeed short. Shorter than Clareth. “I suspected we’d have a breakdown in negotiations. If you’re an obstacle, then I have to eliminate you. And you, Airystep. I can cancel out your powers with mine. That’s why I was waiting here for you.” “It looks like it. I was using my powers before we even hit the engine room, but I guess it was pointless.” “So that’s why you were so surprised earlier…” Distortion Types had the power to distort and interfere with the properties of matter. In that case— If Clareth could distort something with her power, Nocker could distort it even further, completely nullifying the Fairy’s magic. “My powers are rendered useless as well, but it’s fine if we cancel each other out. The Fairy is just a human, after all.” He produced a crude-looking knife. “If you won’t go along with me, I’ll kill you just like all the other passengers because you’re in my way.” Nocker Cromwell’s movements were simple—he closed the distance of several meters between them, weapon brandished—singular and honed, movements that could be used many ways. How could such an Unlaw have been discarded? He should have been useful. He should have been valued—yet he was discarded like an unwanted pebble. How many stories had ended the same way? No, there were more pressing matters— “Want me to handle it, Clareth?” “Just watch from right over there, Mr. Norman.” “Hmm.” Norman shoved his hands into his pockets and stood stock-still. Reality would soon decide the outcome. “Die, Fairy.” It was a line spoken like a curse. For once, Norman saw a flicker of emotion in her. “Hee-hee.” A sharp, high-pitched clang rang out. “…!” Nocker’s eyes flew open. It wasn’t the sound of a knife striking flesh he’d expected—it was the sound of the heavy knife glancing off the wall. “So, without your ability, you’re just a normal person, huh?” She hadn’t defended herself with power. What she’d used was her emerald-green wand, leveraging the L-shaped handle to hook Nocker’s knife-wielding hand and deflect it. The sheer speed and efficiency of her move sent the little man’s knife into the wall instead. “Good grief. You underestimated me. I’m supposed to be Mr. Norman’s bodyguard, remember? Just because I can’t use my powers doesn’t mean I can’t protect him.” The Fairy giggled softly, her wand glittering. Her fingers flicked around the center of the wand, spinning it and causing the tip to spring upward and strike Nocker’s elbow with precision. “Guh…?!” The blow to his joint caused the little man to reel in pain and confusion, dropping the knife— “Now, now, I thought you were going to kill me?” “…” He froze in place with a thunk. Clareth pivoted, spun her wand, and hooked the handle around Nocker’s neck. “Of course, I won’t let you.” Her punch drove deep into the little man’s solar plexus. It was a textbook strike, thrown from a lowered stance. “Guh?! Gah!” Clareth didn’t stop there. Releasing him from the handle’s hook, she struck with her next hit, sending him crashing into the wall with a heavy clout to the temple. She unleashed a flurry of blows, finally forcing Nocker to retreat several steps. “Guh! Damn…you…!” Even so, the narrow space meant she was still within striking distance as he produced a new knife— “Where did you learn this kind of martial arts…? The file on you…didn’t say anything about—” “How old was that file? People grow every day, whether they’re human or Unlaw.” “You cheeky little—” “I’m good at surprising people. That comes with being an Unlaw.” It was a narrow passage, but with just a little man and girl, there was space enough to wield a knife, though not with full range—so Clareth gripped the center of her wand and twirled it as she swung, knife and wand clashing repeatedly. The little man’s movements were those of an assassin with military combat origins. His killing technique aimed for the fastest, shortest route, slipping through the gaps in his opponent’s breath and awareness, while hers aimed to redirect and control her opponent’s moves. She blocked his strikes with her wand and, taking advantage of the flow, plunged the tip forward. When he dodged, she spun, hooking the handle around his body to control him. Her moves were like a dance—a warm spring breeze that was impossible to grasp because it blew wherever it pleased. A girl detached from the real world. No matter where she was, she never quite matched her surroundings. And while it may have been insulting to say about a young girl, Norman thought the way she danced freely in the narrow corridor, wand in hand, was frighteningly fitting—like she was moving through an enchanted land where fairies fluttered about, beyond the reach of humans. “…!” “Hee-hee.” The battle lasted only a few seconds before the little man grimaced. The Fairy had taken control of the fight. “Where did you learn those moves?” It may have been said in fear. Fear because an ordinary schoolgirl could match him, a professional killer in battle. The child he’d thought would be easy prey after sealing her powers was giving him trouble. Maybe, just maybe, she was still hiding something? He might have dismissed the thought as himself overthinking things. “Hee-hee-hee.” But the Fairy’s smile didn’t let him. No matter the situation—even if she were about to be killed—her smile never faltered. She never changed, never flinched, never showed fear. The one who changed, who showed fear, was always her opponent. They feared what they didn’t understand. “…!” The small man jumped. He forced himself to leap backward, not caring that he’d slammed his back into the engine, and what he grabbed wasn’t a knife.