Chapter 8

Eltiel Siriusflame. She had red eyes and long, thick golden hair and was always wrapped in a patchwork trench coat, rain or shine. Her nearly six-and-a-half-foot-tall physique was attractive and seemed like it would be soft no matter where you touched it. How many times had Norman Hamish’s gaze been drawn to her? “Good morning, Lord Norman,” she said. He opened his eyes and turned to find her face a short distance away. “…Morning, El.” She was kneeling on the floor beside Norman’s bed. “…How long have you been there?” “Not sure.” Eltiel softly tilted her head. She seemed as harmless and gentle as a pet dog. “I see. Did…the owner let you in?” “Yes, he did!” Norman lived above a billiards bar. The owner had looked out for him when he first came to Bardium, and that was how he ended up with a place to stay. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Good morning again.” “Yes, good morning!” Norman left the bedroom, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and headed to the living room, then… “I prepared you breakfast. I also cleaned the living room and kitchen, hung the laundry out to dry, and replaced the bar of soap in the shower with a new one because it was getting small.” …was met with a barrage of hospitality. Norman’s lodgings were divided into a fairly spacious kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Up the stairs and through a door was the living room, and beyond that was the kitchen. A short hallway from the living room led to a separate shower room and toilet, and two bedrooms at the end sandwiched a storage closet. The place itself was spacious, relatively new, and in a good location. It was originally intended for two roommates to share, but the owner was kind enough to let Norman have it at a good price. He had been a military man before coming to Bardium, so his survival skills were excellent but not much use in a city—his once strict, orderly life was a thing of the past. He wasn’t particularly sloppy or prone to leaving things a mess, but that didn’t mean he was particularly domestic, either. Seeing Norman now, only a fellow soldier or a real detective would be able to peg him as ex-military. “Hee-hee.” Of course, Eltiel had handled all the domestic chores while he was asleep. “Thanks as always.” “My pleasure! El’s doing it because she wants to!” He had become accustomed to this routine whenever she visited his place. He sat at the kitchen table and ham, eggs, salad, and scones were placed before him in short order. A bite of the scone revealed a crunchy texture and faint sweetness. “Mmm. It’s delicious.” “I’m so glad. I’ll get the tea ready.” She poured in an elegant manner, and he took a sip, enjoying the aroma as they wafted to his nose. It was amazing how there could be such a difference compared to the tea he made when they both used the same tools and tea leaves. There was a delicious breakfast in front of him, too, and an elegant beauty who looked like a refined maid next to him. “It’s a good morning…” “Hee-hee. I’m very happy to hear that, Lord Norman.” He wished every morning could start like this, but that wouldn’t be ideal because her showing up at his place in the morning always meant work. A file had been placed on the desk, and he waited for Eltiel to sit before opening it. “Wow, this is something.” Photos of five separate corpses. The first four had large lacerations, but the fifth was torn to shreds as if it had been consumed with wild abandon. Hardly something to serve up with a leisurely breakfast, but Norman wasn’t sensitive enough to be bothered by it. “The incident happened on Helkart Street.” “Oh…there, huh?” “Yes. Is something the matter?” “Hmm… No, nothing. That’s on the south side. What’s the official story?” “Four cases were reported as street slashings, but the causes of death haven’t been made public, and it’s barely been mentioned in the newspaper.” “Makes sense. My sister’s handiwork, no doubt.” Information control was his sister’s—and superior’s—job. Norman casually flipped through and scanned the incident report beneath the photos. “Hmm. I can see why the fifth wasn’t made public.” He took a bite of the second scone and said, “Oooh, chocolate.” “Yes! Do you like it?” “It’s delicious. You’ll make a great wife one day.” “You flatter me…!” Eltiel clapped her hands to her reddened cheeks, shrinking bashfully into herself as her large frame swayed slightly. She had the air of a large, friendly dog. Her breasts also swayed, and Norman gave thanks for that in his mind—not letting it show on his face, of course. “Mangled corpses and street slayings. Quite the disturbing case.” “Yes. That’s why I’ll be accompanying you!” Eltiel Siriusflame. The modest dress she wore and the trench coat hanging by the front door, despite the absence of rain, were her attempts to blend into human society. She wasn’t trying to integrate. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to—her unique appearance was proof of what made her different from everyone else. “Great, I’ll need your help.” “Of course!” Norman nodded lightly, and Eltiel smiled sweetly like a pet dog playing with its owner—or like a naive girl being deceived by a wicked man’s lies. Bardium, the city where no wind blew, was encircled by walls. Beyond the city to the north was a large lake, and a river flowing from it cut through the city from north to south. In the city’s heart stood the municipal buildings—government offices, post offices, banks, and police stations—along with large stores, theaters, museums, and libraries. To the north, there was an affluent neighborhood for the rich, primarily the nobility. The east and south were middle-class residential areas, while the poor lived in the south. It was only a rough division—many shops and people, the wealthy and the poor, the buyers and the sellers, mingled in the city. Norman’s lodgings were located on the west side, close to the city’s center. “This must be the crime scene.” Norman and Eltiel had arrived at Helkart Street. They were standing at an intersection and it would have been an ordinary, unremarkable street if not for the police blockade and a lack of foot traffic. Lined with evenly spaced rows of two-story buildings and streetlights, it was utterly forgettable. “A street slasher on Helkart Street, of all places.” “Come to think of it, you seemed bothered by that earlier. Is there something about this place?” Eltiel asked. “…You mean you don’t know?” “No.” “Well, there were rumors about this place a while back. Strange growling in the night, sightings of shadowy, bizarre creatures. And then there were the victims…” Norman shrugged his shoulders and continued. “They say there’s a monster on Helkart Street.” “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” “…Well, it has nothing to do with the case. Don’t worry about it.” With his free hand, he pulled a file from his coat pocket and slid out a single photograph. It was of the fifth corpse, the one that had been ripped to shreds. “Not a trace left at the crime scene… My sister’s doing maybe. El?” At his call, she sniffed the air a few times. “…Yes. There’s a lingering scent of disinfectant, about three days old.” “They were thorough, huh? That’s my sister for you. Never mind, then.” Norman lightly brushed his fingers over the cobblestones where the body had been found, mentally rifling through the case details. “Victims one through four had wounds of varying sizes, like they’d been attacked by some kind of animal. People speculated it must have been wild dogs, but…” He looked at the photo. A corpse, ripped to shreds. It looked like it had been savagely devoured. “It’s like the body was torn apart with incredible power. No normal animal or human could do that. That’s probably fueling the rumors of monsters in this area, but in reality…” “We’re dealing with an Unlaw.” “That’s right.” That was how Norman and Eltiel had ended up on the case. Of course, it was still a possibility that the first four had, in fact, been attacked by wild dogs, but the fifth corpse being the only one ripped to shreds was quite bizarre. “What sort of ability do you think we’re dealing with?” “It could be a physical power boost, or they could be able to create knives, or it could be some kind of slashing attack. But if these were all done by the same culprit, we can definitely make some guesses.” “I see. And what guesses would those be?” “Partway through the crime, they became a Category Two.” The first victim might have been an accident, but by the fourth, their ability would have stabilized. They must have evolved. With training and practice, the breadth of an Unlaw’s ability could be expanded. However, for that to happen, the basic structure of the ability needed to be defined and stabilized—for instance, by giving it a name. According to Unlaw researchers, naming the ability and keeping that name in mind would stabilize it. Norman had witnessed its effectiveness first hand. The essence was taking something that existed outside the bounds of the world and redefining it. In other words, if you don’t understand something, give it a name. The unknown is frightening, but once you understand it, it isn’t so bad. That was true for Norman and likely for the culprit as well. Those who stabilized their abilities were classified as Category Two by Cartesius. “There were five attacks over a period of three weeks. A week elapsed between the first and third attack, but after that, it was every four days for three weeks. It’s easy to see the intervals are getting shorter.” “They’ve gotten used to their ability.” “Or maybe they’re enjoying it now. Or they’ve lost self-control.” “…I see.” Eltiel tilted her head, looking distressed. Had it triggered a memory? Norman wasn’t about to find out. “Um…that’s assuming there’s one culprit. What if there’s more?” “If Unlaw aren’t involved, it’s the police’s problem. But the fifth victim is definitely our wheelhouse,” Norman replied with a nonchalant shrug. “The fifth attack was the day before yesterday, so the next one might be as soon as tonight.” “We want to catch them red-handed.” “That would be our most efficient option. I’m counting on you, El.” “Yes! Leave it to me!” “You got it.” While Norman could defend himself, he was usually outmatched when the opponent was an Unlaw. But when it came to bodyguards, Eltiel Siriusflame was the most reliable one around. “…By the way, Lord Norman?” “Yeah?” “I heard the case came to light sooner than expected. Does that mean the police reached the same conclusion?” “Ah…no, I don’t think so. Didn’t my sister tell you anything?” “Nothing in particular.” “So she skipped the explanation… Well, whatever.” He thought back to the five victims. “Victims one through three were homeless. The fourth was a male laborer.” Everything made sense up until that point, though it seemed strange to put it that way. The trouble was with the next victim. “The fifth victim was apparently a noble and quite the distinguished antique collector who dealt with other nobles and had many clients.” “…I see.” “There was probably pressure from the higher-ups. It’s hard to ignore the wishes of the elites in this city.” “It’s almost like they’re saying they don’t care about the homeless.” “They don’t. Nobles and homeless aside, like I said before, Helkart Street already has a reputation for monsters. If real mutilated bodies start showing up, people won’t be able to sleep at night.” “…Right. But why would a noble come here at night?” asked Eltiel. “It’s far from the more affluent neighborhoods in the north, and there’s nothing really of interest around here.” “That wasn’t in the report. Either they don’t know…or they’re covering it up.” Norman shrugged again, then glanced around the unremarkable intersection…besides the fact that five people had died there. “Let’s come back tonight. The culprit has to know the police are already on the move.” “Does that mean…they’re going to stop?” “No. They used the street slashings to stabilize their ability. They’ll definitely strike again.” The only question was when and where. “Hmm… Right, let’s get out of here.” “Where to next?” “Since the victims were originally homeless and laborers, let’s try talking to some of them. We should be able to find some homeless people if we search the alleyways that haven’t been cordoned off.” “I see. Questioning witnesses. That’s a basic of investigation!” “That it is. Well, I wouldn’t get my hopes up, but let’s give it a try.” “Hmm… That might’ve been more than I bargained for…,” Norman muttered with a sigh at the Downey Street restaurant. They could tell it was already dark outside from their semi-secluded spot in the back of the restaurant. Norman had ordered chicken shawarma and tea. “Cheer up, Lord Norman!” Eltiel got double portions of chicken, beef, and mutton kebabs—not sliced like the restaurant usually served but in whole chunks. She also had a hearty side of fries of the crescent-shaped wedge cut variety. There was no salt or sauce on the meat, and the beef was nearly raw, just how she liked it. She had a big appetite. “Lord Norman, Lord Norman.” “Hmm?” “Say ‘ahhh.’” “Ahhh.” He ate the piece of meat she offered him without complaint. It was a little bland, but it wasn’t the seasoning that mattered. It was that she was the one feeding him. “…All right. Let’s go over things one by one,” Norman said. “Oh, you can keep eating.” “I will, thank you!” Eltiel carefully cut the meat with a knife and fork and brought it to her lips. Norman glanced at the double portion of shawarma sitting before him. “When we decided to start by talking to the homeless in the area, my hopes weren’t very high, but…” “We learned something astonishing right away.” “Exactly. I didn’t expect to find an unlicensed brothel.” He sighed in disbelief and took a sip of his tea. “Apparently, the police didn’t even know it was there. Looks like our distinguished noble made sure it stayed hidden.” “…Inconvenient truths about nobles have a way of getting buried.” “Yes, they do. In this case, they knew full well what they were doing was wrong and hid it. This was the kind of brothel where anything goes, even children, regardless of gender. There are legal establishments in the city, but those weren’t enough for them.” “That’s terrible.” “Right? The important thing here is that our noble victim was a regular.” “The homeless are keen observers.” “People shoot them dirty looks, but they’re otherwise ignored. They’re treated like they don’t exist, which makes them perfect intel-gatherers.” They’d already uncovered the reason why a noble was frequenting Helkart Street. “Next, we stopped by the workplace of the fourth victim, the laborer, to ask some questions.” That was when things had taken a turn. “He’d been forcing his own sister to work in a brothel.” The laborer always had money for his debts despite being a compulsive gambler on a losing streak. His sister had been paying with her body. “Once again, the police were in the dark.” “It’s less that the police weren’t doing their job and more…” “This was covered up, too. Probably because it would’ve caused trouble for some big shot. Maybe someone on the police force was a client. This means his sister was likely forced to work in the same illegal brothel on Helkart Street. Otherwise, it would’ve been in the report.” “So the fourth and fifth victims were connected, after all.” “Exactly.” And what was more… “We contacted a certain righteous detective and took him to investigate the illegal brothel.” …Detective Harrison’s anger when he learned of the brothel cover up had been thunderous. Though he worked with Cartesius, he was still a man of principle. That was what Norman liked about him. “And sure enough, the victim’s sister was working there.” A young girl forced into prostitution by her own brother. It was obvious at a glance how much she’d suffered. Her body was swathed in bandages, and the skin that was exposed was covered in old scars. And it wasn’t just her—the other prostitutes were no better off. Children, some missing limbs, around ten of them, boys and girls alike, all with dead eyes. The young girl had assumed the role of their leader. What had stayed with Norman was the way she glared at him, ready to protect the other children. “That’s just heartbreaking.” “It is, but there’s nothing we can do about it. What matters is that our esteemed noble was her regular customer. It’s a real problem when powerful men harm women for sport.” “That makes the connection even stronger.” “Correct. If the first three homeless were just trial runs, then the sister is likely our Unlaw. She killed the brother who sold her to fund his gambling and her client. It’s a simple motive.” Simplicity was good—grudges were as straightforward as motives got, but they were powerful. She hated them, so she killed them. That was all there was to it. It would be difficult for most people to cross the line from hate to killing, but it was all too simple for an Unlaw. All she had to do was give her hatred a way to take form. “But if our culprit is the sister, there’s one thing that doesn’t add up,” Norman continued. “What’s that?” “If she killed both the client she hated and the brother who sold her…why stay at the brothel?” “…Oh.” “Once she killed her brother, there was nothing keeping her there.” She had no obligation to keep working at the brothel once her brother was dead. And why go out of her way to kill him on Helkart Street when the brothel was just a stone’s throw away to the south? “Maybe she needs…money?” “No. Robbery would be a piece of cake for an Unlaw. Though whether that’s a sustainable practice is another matter entirely.” “Gosh. I really don’t get it,” Eltiel said. There were multiple children in the brothel who had been bought by the noble, but the sister was the only one with a direct motive, which left her as the only possible culprit. Her capabilities as an Unlaw made killing quite easy. Only one question remained: Why was she still at the brothel? “Personally, I don’t really care why.” “Are you sure?” “It’s simpler if she’s the culprit. It’ll make it easier for me to write my report.” Norman’s job was to handle Unlaw cases, and part of his responsibilities included writing reports after the fact. His sister, Sufiya Hamish, served as chief of Cartesius’s Bardium branch, acting as a liaison for the government and nobles, while also being in charge of information control and other administrative work. The scientist, Jim Adamworth, researched Unlaw abilities. There was another person in charge of intel gathering, but they weren’t exactly the biggest fan of Unlaw. Since Sufiya and Jim didn’t get along well with Eltiel and the others, either, they were rarely brought up. Norman sipped his tea and opened the file to review it one more time. “Oh.” “Hmm?” Eltiel turned her head toward the doorway, prompting Norman to follow her gaze. A child had come into the restaurant, dressed in shabby and ragged clothes, their gender indiscernible. The child made a beeline straight for the back where the two of them sat and stood there without saying a word. This was a homeless child. “Nice work,” Norman said. He offered the child the two untouched rolls of shawarma from his plate. Taking them, the child pulled a note that had been folded in quarters from their tattered pocket and left without a word. They had been in the restaurant for under a minute. “I asked them to look into the first three homeless victims before we went to the brothel.” The note was a torn scrap of paper, covered in surprisingly neat handwriting. “I’m impressed they got so much in so little time… Where they slept, what they ate, the supply routes they used… Yikes, even how frequently they were with women—” Norman paused for a moment as he scanned the note. “Lord Norman?” His pale blue eyes narrowed, the gears turning in his mind. All the information they’d gathered so far, plus the note he’d just received about the living conditions of the homeless. A girl sold to a brothel by her brother and mutilated by a noble. An illegal, members-only brothel, and the women and children there enduring horrendous conditions. The three homeless victims. Helkart Street. Why the sister hadn’t left the brothel. All the scattered dots were difficult to connect. Norman had no proof, and he was stacking up maybes to create a semblance of a theory. Norman had fallen silent, but Eltiel watched him without saying a word. Though she had resumed eating with her elegant manners, she wasn’t being lazy or indifferent. She was like a loyal dog awaiting her master’s command. If called, if ordered, she would leap into action, maintaining a balance of wire-thin tension and unshakable calm. “…El, I think we might have to split up after this.” “What…?” Her shock and disappointment were palpable. “But…what’s my motivation, then…?” “Sorry. I think it’s probably best if I go back to the street alone.” “Will you be all right?” “I’m going to put on a little show. Of course, I’ll need your help for the finale. Can I count on you?” “…Come now, how could I refuse?” She smiled happily. Norman had asked knowing full well she would never turn him down. “Your deductions really are impressive, Lord Norman. You’re an ace detective.” “In name only. Are you my assistant, then?” “No, I’d rather be your pet.” “…If that’s what you want, fine by me.” “Don’t worry, Lord Norman.” El placed a hand on her chest like a servant swearing allegiance to her master and smiled. “No matter who your enemies are, I’ll follow you to the depths of hell.” It was a moving statement, but his heart ached thinking about what would come next. …Well, just a tad. The boy walked through the city on a chilly night. At the crossroads of Helkart, he paced on light feet back and forth several times like he was surveying the area. Evenly spaced streetlights illuminated his path dimly, but the street itself was still largely pitch-black, barely visible under scattered moonlight. He seemed almost lighthearted. He was luring something out, but he was also vulnerable enough to be killed without much trouble at all. It was the suspicious, gray-haired boy who’d shown up at the illegal brothel. He’d brought in tow a detective and a giant woman, who looked to be the detective’s servant. The boy had carelessly rifled through the brothel for clues and left. The culprit didn’t know the details. But they decided to kill him. They followed the boy. Only ten meters separated them. Silently, the culprit crept closer, fingers relaxed and knees bent. Ten meters—a distance that would normally take several seconds to close, even at a sprint. But the culprit wasn’t normal. Since stabilizing, the Unlaw’s physical abilities had grown exponentially. A mix of bloodlust and hatred for those who had already killed surged in their chest. And that gave their power form. They only needed an instant to close the gap now. One instant before their weapon sank into flesh, and that would be the end. They closed the distance between them in a step, raised their weapon, and let it hurtle at the boy’s defenseless back. “Whoa, close one.” “…?!” The boy spun around, evading at the last minute. Norman watched as the girl skidded to a stop, scraping across the cobblestone. She wore a cheap, plain dress with shabby rags over it. Her body was wrapped in bandages and covered in scars. She had roughly cut pale blond hair and claws, about three centimeters long, soaked in blood. This was the culprit. “…How?” Jacqueline Harley, the sister of the murdered laborer, asked. “Your bloodlust gave you away.” More importantly… “Let’s talk about you, Jacqueline Harley.” “…!” The scarred girl’s face twisted, and she tensed her fingers and claws. “I’d say that brothel’s going under, just like you wanted.” “…” The tension in her body eased slightly. Norman realized his hypothesis hadn’t been far off. “The detective I brought with me on my visit is pretty high up in the police force and believes in doing what’s right. He’d never forgive himself for overlooking a place like that. That’s why you started attacking people, right?” “…I’m surprised. I wondered who you were, but you’re a detective?” “Some call me that, but that isn’t completely accurate.” “…What are you going to do with me?” “That depends on your next move.” Ideally, Norman wanted things to end peacefully. Of course, that would mean he’d have to make it up to Eltiel afterward. “My job is to capture Unlaw like you, so I’d like you to surrender without a fight.” “Uhn…Lahw? I see. I knew there were others like me.” In the moonlit street, Jacqueline crouched low, almost on all fours, eyes narrowed. Her right eye had a conspicuous vertical scar—something she’d carefully hidden with makeup when they met at the brothel. “You’d be classified as a Category Two Deviation Type.” “…? Type? Category? There are different stages and types?” “Cartesius—the organization I’m a part of—designates them.” It wasn’t that complicated, though. Internal abilities of Unlaw often provided an increase in basic physical skills—like monstrous strength, enough durability to shrug off handgun bullets, enough stamina to run for hours at a time, the ability to heal most wounds overnight. Their physical prowess already outclassed top athletes, and that was before factoring in other abilities, like manipulating body temperature, extreme flexibility, the power to discharge electricity, or even further specialized physical traits, like growing claw-like fingernails. It was like every human potential taken to the extreme. “The abilities themselves aren’t the frightening part, though. Let’s put it this way… When you have such a tremendous excess of physical ability, it’s easy for that excess to affect you mentally, whether it’s feelings of omnipotence, grandiosity, or simply performing on a superior level compared to other humans.” Their bodies and minds far surpassed most human limits. “Simply put, you go a little crazy. You can’t help but act on your urges. You abandon human norms, like self-restraint and morals.” “Ha. So that’s what makes an Unlaw? Ironic. Props to whoever coined that.” “I don’t see what’s so funny.” “You understand, don’t you, Detective? You know so much about people like me. There’s no way I can stop. The five I killed were irredeemable scum.” “Does that justify their murders?” “If I don’t kill them—” The wounded girl smiled. She wanted to. She ought to. She had to. Once she started thinking that way, she couldn’t stop. “Are you the same as me, Detective?” “Hmm, what do you think?” “I think you’re obviously an enemy of women. You already get it, don’t you?” she said, smiling as her claws reflected the faint moonlight. “Well, I’ve thought about your motive and some other things. Want to hear about the different Types?” “I’ll pass.” Jacqueline rose, swaying. Norman sighed. “Hee-hee,” Jacqueline giggled. Then she was ready to kill again. “Canonical Five!” Five claws flashed. Norman narrowed his eyes at the name. “That’s your ability name, huh?” It was a formal title—proof that her ability had evolved into a deadly weapon that could easily tear others apart, dispensing what she considered justice. It took abnormal physical ability to wield it. Jacqueline the Ripper, who killed men without a word. She closed the distance in a flash. Moments before his death, Norman simply whistled. Fweet! The master had summoned his dog, and Eltiel Siriusflame came rushing in. She was a massive hound, the patchwork trench coat draped over her body like a mantle, the red belt of the coat around her neck like a collar. She was over three meters long, with spiky black fur that blended into the darkness, claws as sharp as a cleaver, and saw-like fangs lining her jaws. Only her eyes remained human, shining even more brilliantly. “Wha—?!” Jacqueline was stunned. Claws poised to strike, the black hound leaped in front of Norman, landing on the cobblestones. “Guh?!”