“Boss, they’re here,” the young man who’d introduced himself as Osa said, having opened the door in front of us just a crack.
“Bring ’em in, then,” came the answer from inside.
The syndicate’s headquarters, a single-story wooden building, had a somewhat Japanese feel to it. While brick and stone buildings were far more common in the capital, wood was still the material of choice in other areas of the kingdom where forests were more abundant. Wood in this world was seemingly much sturdier than it had been in my last (perhaps yet another side effect of the existence of magic) and offered decent defensive properties. It was also much cheaper than other materials, so it wasn’t too unusual to see wooden buildings in the poorer sections of Runerelia.
Osa had led us through a well-kept central courtyard on the way, which had only served to intensify the “Japanese” feel of the place. It was rather spacious for a mere courtyard. In fact, although it was only a single-story structure, the Syndicate’s headquarters was far from small, but actually sprawled across a sizable plot of land. I wondered if they took in and raised youths like Osa, similar to how Apple House also functioned as an orphanage.
When we’d first arrived, we’d been shown to a parlor where a chestnut-haired woman named Shuri had been waiting. Things had gone smoothly at first, with Mimosa answering Shuri’s many questions with confidence and ease. Shuri had then turned to me and asked me to remove my mask. In truth, I’d known that hiding one’s face was almost the height of rudeness when it came to something like this, so I hadn’t been surprised by the request. Still, seeing no harm in trying, I gave her my name as a show of good faith and asked whether she might allow me to remove it with as few witnesses as possible—and somehow, it had worked. Shuri had sat in silence for a good minute before leaving the room, and when she’d returned it was with positive news: the boss wanted to talk to us personally, and I could wait to remove my mask until then.
“I’d be delighted to. Thank you for your understanding,” I’d replied gratefully, at which point Shuri and Osa had led us through the sprawling grounds to a small garden—or more of a grove, really—at the building’s rear. Nestled within the dense canopy of trees was a small, solitary building. I felt another pang of nostalgia when I saw it. It reminded me of the centuries-old teahouses still dotted around Japan, relics from an earlier, simpler time (or so I assumed, given that I hadn’t been alive during the approximate Azuchi-Momoyama period to experience it for myself). Shuri entered first, followed by Osa, who held open the door and beckoned us inside. After letting Mimosa go in first, I stepped inside only to stop short the moment I crossed the threshold. A bead of cold sweat ran down my back.
There was a man waiting inside, with gray hair and eyes nearly the same shade—I’d met him before, during my trip to Ment. It was Gin, the man I’d shared a lighthearted conversation with in the bathhouse at the Fullmoon Inn. It wasn’t that I thought poorly of Gin or anything; I actually rather liked him, both in a general sense and as a fellow hot springs enthusiast. The problem was, it hadn’t been Allen who’d met him. It had been Lenn. Gin hadn’t reacted when I’d introduced myself at the time, but he’d left Runerelia months before my visit to Ment, so it wasn’t too surprising that he hadn’t heard of Lenn the explorer. There was no way he was unaware of Lenn’s existence now though, thanks to those Lotz family morons spreading rumors about Lenn and the Red Dragon Syndicate being “sworn enemies” or whatever.
“Allen? What’s wrong?” Mimosa asked suspiciously, looking back at me. Having little choice, I made my way inside with slow, reluctant steps, though my mind was racing as I desperately tried to figure out a way to extricate myself from the situation. Gin’s steely gray eyes narrowed as he peered at me, almost as though he could see right through my mask.
“Your eyes are as piercing as the rumors say, Gin Glaster. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’m Mimosa Calm, and this is...” She trailed off, signaling to me to introduce myself.
Wait, wait! Just give me a minute here! I haven’t figured out a plan yet! It’s... It’s too late, isn’t it?
“I-I’m Allen... Allen Rovene,” I replied in an improvised, painfully high falsetto. Of course, I didn’t take my mask off during the introduction, rewarding me with reproachful stares from Shuri, Osa, and even Mimosa. Gin remained silent, and I held my breath, waiting for his (probably critical) response. To my surprise, he didn’t shout but instead snorted—and then he burst into laughter. He laughed for what felt like several minutes, shoulders shaking and face turning red.
Yeah, the cat’s definitely out of the bag, I thought, scratching my neck awkwardly. Shuri and Osa, who clearly had no idea what was going on, exchanged confused glances.
Eventually, Gin managed to control his laughter. Wiping away a tear, he smiled at Mimosa and me. “Welcome, Mimosa and...Allen, was it? I’m Gin, head of the Red Dragon Syndicate. Shuri tells me you’ve got some personal reasons for wearing the mask, right? Keep it on, then.”
“Boss, that’s too—” an appalled-looking Shuri objected, only for Gin to cut her off.
“It’s fine. I trust the kid. If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility,” he said shortly, nodding in my direction with a stern expression. Seeing the resolve in those gray eyes, I nodded back—and took off my mask.
It wasn’t a decision I’d given much thought to or anything. Obviously, removing my mask here would increase the risk of society at large discovering “Allen” and “Lenn” were actually one and the same, but I could deal with that if necessary. There was just something about Gin that made me feel as though I needed to look him in the eye while speaking, and that doing so was far more important than protecting my identity.
Besides, he’s obviously figured it out already anyway...