A few hours after wrapping up the Half-wit case, Karamori, Archive, and Fujinaka were sitting in a yakiniku restaurant in the town.
“Well, cheers,” Archive said in her usual monotone, raising a mug of oolong tea.
“Cheers,” Karamori responded unenthusiastically.
“Ch-cheers…,” Fujinaka managed to say with visible effort.
Karamori was still feeling disheartened from the day’s earlier events, and while Fujinaka was smiling, her hollow eyes made it clear she was mentally exhausted.
Archive had been the one to suggest yakiniku, meaning she must have been telling the truth earlier when she said this was fated to be her dinner tonight. She’d said it would help Fujinaka de-stress, and Karamori had agreed.
Archive gave Karamori an exasperated look.
“Mr. Karamori, how long are you going to let this bother you? This is far from the first time you have butchered me with that sword. It is past time you got used to it.”
“How the hell am I supposed to get used to that?” Karamori snapped. “I never will—and I don’t want to!”
“…I am not her,” Archive said quietly.
Karamori looked away, unable to look her in the face. “I know… But killing a person isn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”
The blond girl sighed. “Well, if you did not have such an aversion to killing, Tyrfing probably would not let you go after just five or six victims. It may be necessary for you to bear this pain if you wish to maintain your humanity.”
“…”
“Anyway, please cheer up, Mr. Karamori. You are scaring Ms. Fujinaka.”
“Huh? No, I… I’m perfectly fine!” Fujinaka insisted, but her strained smile told otherwise. She was obviously still struggling.
Archive was right; he should consider her feelings and try his best to act cheerful.
Karamori put on his best smile.
“S-sorry, Fujinaka. I brought down the mood. Let’s not let all this meat go to waste! After all, I’m buying!”
“Y-yeah. I’m excited!” Fujinaka responded brightly. Though her hands trembled as she held her chopsticks.
Karamori and Archive exchanged a look. For now, it would be best to distract Fujinaka from thinking about their world or her problems. They reached an unspoken agreement not to bring anything like that up.
A waiter walked over to their table, having been summoned by Archive.
“One jajamen, please,” she said.
“…You’re getting noodles at a yakiniku restaurant?” Karamori asked.
“Fate has chosen jajamen for me tonight.”
“I knew you were lying.”
Karamori grabbed a pair of tongs and began to lay out meat on the grill built into the table.
“Fujinaka, you don’t have to worry about Untitled right now,” he said. “We rented out the restaurant and asked another investigator to block off the area with a barrier, so even if the book escapes Archive’s barrier and goes berserk, none of the townspeople will vanish.”
“Oh, really? That makes me feel a bit better.” Fujinaka gave him a carefree smile, but the invisible wall between them remained impenetrable. She probably couldn’t get Karamori’s horrible brutality out of her mind.
“How about you show us one of your strange magic tricks while we wait for the meat to cook, Mr. Karamori?” Archive asked.
“O-oh, good idea. Don’t call them strange, though.”
Karamori honestly thought that doing magic tricks in this gloomy atmosphere sounded like hell, but he forced himself to do one anyway and made the water in his cup disappear.
Despite Fujinaka clearly doing her best to be nice, she barely reacted. The trick at least helped them all relax, and while there was still some awkwardness in the air, they were able to chat as they enjoyed the grilled meat.
However, when Karamori was still only about half full, Fujinaka put down her chopsticks. She took a deep breath and spoke up with a determined expression.
“…Karamori… How many people…have you killed?”
“…!”
The question was a dagger to Karamori’s heart. She obviously knew those words would hurt him; the way she guiltily averted her eyes from his reaction was proof of that, but she quickly looked back toward him.
“More…than me?” she asked.
Karamori narrowed his eyes. He had a vague sense as to why she’d asked.
“…A lot,” he said simply.
Fujinaka bit her lip. She looked at Tyrfing, which was resting next to Karamori.
“…I was afraid of you when you were cutting Archive. She told me the sword forces you to kill regardless of your own wishes, but…when I thought about how many people you must have killed before today, I only felt more scared…”
“…”
“But then I realized something… I’m no different.”
“Fujinaka…”
She stared at her trembling palms. Karamori guessed that she was seeing her perfectly manicured hands stained in blood.
With one act, she had accidentally erased a great many people in her town. Now she was trying to face her sins—or rather, she was being forced to do so by the sight of Karamori’s horrible brutality, as she saw herself in his actions. Her emotions had been numbed by the rapid sequence of abnormal events over the last few days, but they were finally reawakening.
Karamori wondered for a moment if he should distract her from this line of thought. But now that her mind had started going down this path, there was no going back. It would be best to listen and answer sincerely.
Fujinaka clenched her trembling hands.
“I’m terrified… You told me yesterday that if I don’t choose to live, the people I killed will have died for nothing. But I’m so scared…of living with this burden… It still hasn’t really sunk in, and it’s already so hard…!”
The meat began to burn black on the grill, but no one reached for it.
“H-how did you overcome it?” Fujinaka asked.
Karamori looked down. “I…don’t think I have. I still have nightmares of killing people… But I chose to walk this path.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I had a choice. I could have moved to some mountain and lived alone with Tyrfing’s curse until I died. Instead, I chose the path of becoming a Noary special investigator. I chose a job where I have to kill people… I had my reasons for doing that, but it wasn’t my only option.”