Baccano! - Volume 12 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE BAD GUYS ARE BUSY

Voyage Day One Night

A small ship traveled over the ocean.

Well, small only in comparison to the luxury cruise ship.

The vessel, which was on the large side for a recreational craft, was moving over the waves at a good clip.

There were no other ships in sight. Just ocean in all directions. Overhead, the starry sky was unusually pretty: a natural planetarium, picture-perfect.

Among these sights, it would have been easy to believe all land had sunk under the water, but the ship merely pressed forward, heading toward some unknown destination.

Finally—a shape came into view.

Far ahead, another light joined the star’s reflections floating on the water.

As the vessel drew closer, there was enough light coming from it that it could be mistaken for a small island.

When the boat was near enough that those aboard it could identify the luxury cruise ship, the smaller vessel decreased its speed, dimmed its lights, and creeped closer and closer.

Ordinarily, the cruise ship would be the faster of the two, but the small boat had anticipated this. It read the ship’s course and circled around ahead of it, closing the distance slowly.

Then—

—just about the time it was necessary to start considering the possibility of a collision, a shadow launched itself from the boat.

The lone black shape, a human figure in a black wet suit with a small propulsion device in each hand, quietly made for the ship.

In the ocean, where darkness concealed everything, it seemed almost like a torpedo.

Seen from up close, the cruise ship was moving faster than anticipated. Even at its enormous size, it sometimes traveled at a speed greater than thirty miles per hour.

The diver wouldn’t stand a chance in a collision with it, and if they let the ship pass by, they could get dragged into its wake and be turned into hamburgers without anyone ever knowing.

However, the figure fearlessly approached the vessel—

…And latched on to the ship’s hull with practiced ease.

The things on their arms were probably giant suction cups or something similar.

It wasn’t clear how they worked, but the diver unstuck and re-stuck the suction cups by turns, climbing up the side of the ship like an insect.

Before long, when they had climbed up the wall to the height of the roof of a modest building, they reached a balcony in the lowest tier of passenger cabins.

On the Entrance, these semi-suite cabins were concentrated at the front of the ship, and each had its own private balcony.

Once he had arrived, the man silently set to work.

He took a small winch out of the case he’d been carrying on his back, attaching it to a rope that stretched from his waist down to the surface of the ocean.

Then, just as he was about to begin slowly hauling up the cases floating on the end of that rope—

He heard the cabin’s glass door open behind him, and the occupant stepped outside.

He spotted the man on the balcony and gulped.

The intruder wore a black full-body combat suit like the sort worn by the special forces; his whole face was covered by a silicone mask, and he was wearing night vision goggles.

As he spotted the clearly abnormal being who had appeared on his balcony—

—the cabin’s occupant exhaled.

“Don’t scare me like that, Life. At least knock or something.”

The man in the cabin was one of the businessmen.

“I believe I’m on time. In fact, I was surprised that you weren’t waiting out here,” replied the man in black. Not even a sliver of skin was showing.

His voice sounded detached, like a machine’s. It was fairly muffled and distorted, probably due to the mask, but you could tell, if only barely, that it belonged to a young man.

“If we all waited out here, the people in the surrounding cabins would get suspicious.”

“Our people have fifteen rooms around this one,” Life calmly pointed out, and the occupant of the cabin spat into the ocean from the balcony.

“Picky, picky. Death really was the best, before he kicked the bucket.”

“He certainly was the most skilled of all of us. Without him, we’re probably done for.”

“Don’t jinx us.”

“I mean, really. Losing our greatest weapon on a small job before the big one? Hopeless. I’m participating in this maneuver because the president told me to do so, but honestly, I think our prospects for success are slim at best.”

The businessman sighed in irritation at his companion’s frustratingly impassive attitude.

“Man, shut up. You Four Afflictions should just zip it and do what we tell you. You brought the stuff, right?”

“If you’d like to be certain, I’d appreciate it if you’d help me haul this up as soon as possible.”

“Tch…”

The businessman was obviously not happy about this, but he went along with it and helped pull up Life’s cargo.

A few minutes later, as they opened the two heavy cases that they’d hauled in:

“…This is perfect, Life.”

Grinning, the businessman acted as if he’d never been upset at all.

The cases were packed with the tools of their trade.

Lots of standardized guns and multiple hard objects that appeared to be hand grenades. In addition, there were several pieces of equipment, including some whose purpose wasn’t apparent at first glance, that could make you wonder whether they were planning to fight a war.

As a matter of fact—that was more or less what they were doing.

“What’s this? Damn, you even brought the RPG. Are you planning to sink the ship or something?” The man in the cabin smiled with some surprise, taking out a distinctive tube.

“If the situation calls for it, I imagine it would be possible.”

“Ha! Didn’t you know? Whenever the bad guy brings a weapon like this onto a ship or whatever, the hero’s gonna get his hands on it and shoot down the getaway helicopter with it at the end.”

“Then I hope you’ll conduct yourself prudently, so that nothing of the sort happens.”

“Tell it to Illness, not me.” With that parting shot, the man turned away from Life. “I’ll go call the others. That moron Illness is camping in the movie theater, so she can wait until later.”

“……”

“What? I know you’re looking at me. I dunno what you’re thinking under that mask, but show a little more spine, wouldja? We’re the only ones on the ship with weapons like this. If they’ve got anything at all, it’s skeet-shooting rifles or the shotguns the security guards have for suppressing rioters. Anti-terror security measures have gone through the roof recently, so there’s no way any of the passengers smuggled anything on board.” He laughed. Now, they were the monsters who could lay waste to the ship. “We’re ready to tear this place up like Alien, so we gotta have a good time doin’ it.”

“It feels like cheating in a video game. It does weigh on my conscience a bit…”

For the first time, Life responded with something that almost resembled a joke, and the other man snorted on his way out of the room.

Once he was alone, as Life methodically checked through the contents of the remaining case, he murmured quietly.

“‘Ready to tear this place up,’ are you…?” There was irony in his words, but it wasn’t clear whether he was smiling or not. “I do hope that you won’t be defeated by the hero at the very, very last second.”

Life opened the next case, but its contents seemed completely unrelated to weapons or seajacks.

“After all, you people certainly aren’t Jason or Freddy. At best, you’re villains who happen to be hijacking a sea vessel.”

Inside were layer upon layer of pure-white masks, like the sort used in carnivals in Italian cities.

“The president didn’t even inform you of his true intentions—to steal other’s futures merely for the sake of business. After all, you are nothing but unprincipled, unthinking criminals. As am I.”

It was almost as if Life, his true face masked as well, were being reflected in an infinity mirror.

Picking up one of the masks, Life admonished himself aloud.

“…I’m talking to myself too much. It’s a disturbing habit. Even to me.”

Meanwhile, in the shipboard casino, Fontana di Trevi

“What the hell’s all this?”

As soon as he stepped into the room, Firo quietly caught his breath.

After the flashy departure ceremony, which had included fireworks and doves, Firo had changed from his tuxedo into a more comfortable jacket and toured the ship’s interior with Ennis and Czes.

Basically, the boat had everything.

Calling it everything was a little misleading, but most of the things Firo thought it should have were there, at least.

The restaurants weren’t limited to haute cuisine; there were cheap hamburger shops, as well as everything from Italian through Japanese and Chinese, and even a place that served live honey ants, calling it “Australian natural cuisine.”

In terms of shopping, it was as if they’d picked up an enormous mall and dropped it onto the ship, intact.

As you’d expect, the range of groceries for sale was limited, but they did have everything from high-end boutiques to sports shops, bookstores, toy stores, beauty salons, and even an arcade. There was a huge atrium in the center of the ship, and the shopping district was built around it in a multilevel circle. The roof of the atrium was clear acrylic, and during the day, mirrors directed natural sunlight inside.

The recreational facilities were even more abundant. Although there was no Ferris wheel and no go-carts (unsurprisingly), Firo had seen a wave pool. He couldn’t say what it was exactly, but something seemed very wrong about having one of those on a boat.

There were tennis courts and a skeet shooting range as well, and Firo’s impression of the Entrance was shifting from “moving castle” to “moving town.”

Since they thought they should spend the first day getting used to their cabin, they’d ordered their dinner from room service.

Then, on Czes’s recommendation, Ennis had decided to visit the beauty salon for women, and Firo had headed over to check out the casino while he waited for her, but—

Even if it was small, Firo did run a gambling den, and in his opinion, the shipboard casino was…

…dazzling. Brilliant. Truly magnificent.

On a ship this elegant, he’d expected this to be the one place where he could find a little less culture.

However, seeing it in person easily shattered his preconceived notions.

It’s like a mini Las Vegas in here.

Multiple chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

The chips and cards all over the room reflected their light, generating a bewitching brightness.

There was poker and blackjack, naturally, but also roulette wheels, slot machines, and baccarat tables. They weren’t betting arcade tokens but chips that would be exchanged for cash later. They were the one truth here. They were absolute power.

Apparently, you bought chips by credit card and paid for them later. Thinking he might learn something he could use at the Martillo Family’s gambling parlors, Firo purchased a hundred dollars’ worth.

Money called more money, and a momentary cheat or the merest trace of luck could change a life. To Firo, gambling dens were like a microcosm of life, and he’d even ripped the fingernails off customers who tried to pull a fast one on him, but—

—the tension unique to gambling parlors didn’t really seem to exist here.

That said, it definitely was life in miniature.

“Okay, in that case, I’ll send all my chips to the dealer this time,” said one gentleman, moving what looked to be about thirty times the chips Firo had.

“I’ll keep going until I get lucky, and not a moment before!” said a lady, slapping a chip worth a thousand dollars to the “00” on the roulette wheel.

“Well, guess I lost today!”

A man who’d been relieved of all his chips in a one-on-one poker bet smiled at the man who’d taken them.

Of course, not everyone here was so free with their money. There were sensible gamblers whose spirits soared and fell over wins and losses of ten dollars or so—but they were participating in a quiet way, in the corners of the room. Maybe they didn’t feel comfortable here.

Oh.

Watching them smile even when they were frustrated, Firo began to understand.

To these guys, they might as well be playing with arcade tokens.

As he watched people enjoy gambling without the slightest consideration for profit and loss, Firo realized this place was their life in miniature.

In that case…

In that case, maybe he could get away with testing the experience he’d cultivated here. It might not be a bad idea to just bet on himself and see how much of this mountain of gold he could take home.

With that thought, Firo grinned—and quietly took a step forward.

Meanwhile On deck

Even though it was late at night, there were a lot of people out on the deck near the bow.

Some had come to look at the enormous shark installation there, while others were simply present to feel the wind and gaze at the stars. The rocking was rather pronounced here at the bow, but except for that, it didn’t seem any different from a park near the coast, and a few couples were standing by the railings with arms around each other.

As he watched them in the distance, Bobby clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Dammit. Where’s that Firo guy?”

“This place is like one big department store, after all. I doubt we’ll have much luck finding him by wandering around at random… Want to try stealing the passenger list instead?” the black boy suggested.

“Shut up, Troy. Right now, that calm voice of yours just really ticks me off,” Bobby snapped at him, then glanced at the friends behind him.

Troy, who collected Trojan horses—as in the computer viruses—as a hobby.

Tall, who was tall.

Humpty, who was fat.

Bobby had given them these nicknames; they were simple and easy to say, so he liked them. Of course, the individuals on the receiving end were openly unhappy with them, but Bobby turned a deaf ear to that.

What was giving him the most trouble right now was the question of how to deal with the girl who was standing beside them.

“Is something the matter? You seem to be looking for someone…”

“No, uh, listen. Before we get into that, I want to get one thing straight.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Who are you?”

After hours of silence, Bobby and the others had watched for their chance, then finally crept out of the lifeboat. The girl responsible for their inability to talk looked down apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I’m a stowaway, and my name is Carnea.”

“You said that already. Not that I remembered it!” It wasn’t a very fair thing to say, but then he asked her a quiet question. “So? Why’d you stow away?”

“…I’m searching for someone. Just like you.”

“Looking for someone?”

“Yes. I’m sure he’s on this ship. He’s…sort of a father to me…,” the girl said without looking up. Her skin was deeply tanned, but her personality seemed rather introverted.

“What, you pissed because your not-dad wouldn’t take you along on his trip?”

“No, that isn’t it. I came to stop him.”

“Stop him?”

“Yes, he’s—”

She would have gone on, but Bobby covered her mouth. “Hang on a sec.”

“Mrgle!”

“Sorry, I’ll listen to the rest of your story later.”

Ushering everyone into the shadows by the wall, Bobby focused on the center of the deck.

A boy in a child’s tuxedo was gazing at the shark robot. He seemed to be quite a bit younger than Bobby’s group, but he was wandering around the ship alone, taking in the sights.

“Him… That’s the one. Firo’s kid brother.”

“Oho. Indeed it is. I’m impressed, Bobby. Good job finding him; I’m shocked you managed it.”

“I know, right? Keep the compliments coming, Troy.”

Failing to realize that he was being mocked, the boy grinned, then decided to tail Czes. “Okay, we’re going after him.”

“Um… What are you planning to do afterward?” Carnea asked uneasily.

Bobby’s smile was absolutely villainous. “Well, obviously, we’ll… Uh, what should we do with him?” he asked Troy, Tall, and Humpty.

“We said we were going to take him hostage, but I seriously doubt you could successfully negotiate,” said Troy.

“Plus, what would we do with him after we took him hostage?” added Tall. “Where are we supposed to lock him up?”

“Th-the crew might catch us before we nab that kid,” Humpty said.

After so many pessimistic replies, Bobby froze up, still wearing that wicked smile—

—and then turned to Carnea, of all people.

“…What do you think we should do?” he said, revealing his complete lack of foresight.

“Um… What are you trying to do? Just bully that little kid?” Carnea drew back as she spoke, and Bobby hastily shook his head.

“No way! That’s not it… The kid’s big brother is an evil mafia exec, and his mafia group worked us over bad. We’re gonna get revenge!” His resentment was obviously misdirected, but Bobby’s expression said that justice was on his side. “They’re total scumbags. We worked our butts off to get something, and they reached right down and snatched it out of our hands! But we ain’t sheep, and we’re gonna let ’em know it. We’ve got the brains and the brawn to fight back!”

Completely ignoring the fact that he’d snatched a camera from a tourist, he waxed poetic, like a hero gearing up to strike back against an evil organization.

“Is that right…?” Ignoring his loud declaration, Carnea murmured, a little sadly, “It’s the same everywhere, I guess.”

But Bobby was too psyched up to hear the little voice, and only the other three boys heard him. Looking at one another, they decided to watch how things played out for now.

Then their leader, the one most in need of watching, set off after the enemy’s little brother.

“C’mon, you guys, quit spacing out! We’re going after that kid!”

“…Maybe I overdid it.”

It had been two hours since he’d entered the casino, and Firo’s attempt had been far more successful than he’d anticipated.

He hadn’t been cheating. He’d merely used skillful conversation, watched his opponents’ faces, and followed the basic logic of the various games, and yet—

Well, the bottom line was that a pile of chips worth a hundred thousand dollars was sitting in front of his hands.

After stepping inside, he’d gone on observing the clientele and spotted several veterans who were not only rich but used to gambling. Those people had the skill and the financial muscle to back it up, so he did his best to avoid going up against them.

He’d found the people who were still smiling even after getting skinned by those rich players, then kept winning a little and losing a little until the right moment, when he’d steer things into a high-stakes showdown.

Rinse and repeat, and the result was a mountain of chips.

I went overboard.

Objectively speaking, this is the stuff that makes a casino come after you.

If this had been his establishment, right about now he would have come out in person and offered to play a round so he could check to make sure he wasn’t cheating.

However, even though he’d won all this by himself, the casino, the gamblers around him, and his opponents were just showering him with genuine compliments.

He wasn’t hurting anyone, but for some reason, he was feeling guiltier and guiltier. Just as he was starting to think of calling it a night or maybe taking on one of the rich, seasoned gamblers he’d spotted earlier—

—a man in a black jacket and black leather pants sat down in the chair next to him. “Not bad, kid. How would you feel about going up against me, one-on-one?” he asked in an easygoing way.

However, it was clear at a glance that he wasn’t an honest citizen.

Nothing about his appearance gave it away, but Firo could immediately sense that they were from the same world. Not only that but it was possible he was even deeper in that world than Firo. He had the same dark, sharp air about him that Claire, Keith, and the higher Martillo executives had.

Firo was curious about what a man like that was doing on this ship, but he really wasn’t qualified to talk, he realized. He decided to listen to what the man had to say.

“No, I just got a little lucky. I hope you’re not expecting too much from me.”

Shifting into the tone he usually used for work, Firo watched to see how the other man would respond.

“Don’t be so modest. It’s easy to tell when someone has good luck or good technique… Oh, don’t worry; I’m not accusing you of cheating.”

“……”

“I thought this place was just for fun; I didn’t expect to run into someone like you here.”

He was probably Spanish or South American. His skin was swarthy, and he had the face of a passionate and intense man. In terms of simple appearance, he’d probably be popular with the ladies.

As Firo was thinking, the man told the dealer, “Give me a deck of cards,” then began to cut the deck he’d been handed.

And then—Firo saw it.

As the man shuffled cards almost too rapidly to register, one card slipped out of his sleeve and into the shifting deck.

No one around them had picked up on it. From where he was standing, the dealer probably hadn’t seen it, either.

The man cut the card in dexterously, ending his shuffle once he’d moved it to the very top of the deck.

He’s got some serious skills.

Firo was genuinely impressed, but he was also thinking about what that act had meant. As a cheat, there wasn’t much point to it. They hadn’t even decided what game to start yet, let alone who would deal.

And with his skills, the man could probably have slipped the card in too fast for even Firo if he’d wanted to.

Meaning the man must have intentionally let Firo see his cheat. That said, an ordinary person probably wouldn’t have caught it, even if it was done right under their nose.

Is he testing me? Trying to figure out if I could catch that?

Smirking a little, Firo picked up the shuffled deck from the table. “In that case, it’s my turn to cut, isn’t it?”

Taking his false glasses out of his breast pocket, Firo put them on, smiled brightly—and effortlessly shuffled the cards, demonstrating even more skill than the man had earlier.

With a loud, crisp series of rapid-fire fwips, the cards mingled in a variety of ways.

And then—

“Whoops, sorry.”

—as the cards danced between his hands, one slipped out and fell in front of the man in the black jacket.

Smiling awkwardly, as though he’d messed up, Firo set the deck of cards in front of his opponent. He made no attempt to pick up the one he’d dropped.

The man retrieved the card that had fallen in front of him, grinned back at him, and began to cut the cards again.

In the next instant, the card Firo had intentionally dropped went back where it belonged: up the man’s sleeve. Again, Firo had only seen it because the man wanted him to.

“All right,” the man said, smiling quietly. “What shall we play?”

The upshot was that Firo won their subsequent game of blackjack.

At first, they’d played an intense, gloves-off bout bringing all their tactics to bear, but—

—the moment the stakes got high, the man had summarily gone bust.

“A total loss. You really do know your stuff; that’s all I can say. You kept your cool all the way to the end.”

“…Thanks.” Firo was smiling, but internally, he had his doubts.

That really looked like he lost on purpose…

Although he was suspicious, Firo kept his smile in place on the surface as the man quietly held a hand out to him.

“I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Angelo. I’m in the export-import business.”

“It’s a pleasure. I’m Firo Prochainezo. I manage a restaurant.”

When he returned the handshake, the man who’d called himself Angelo shook his head apologetically. “During that last match, I’m afraid you won more than I have chips to cover. If you don’t mind, I’ll treat you to a drink in my room. What do you say?”

“…Just for a little while, maybe.”

Angelo had clearly been gunning for this development.

Hmm? Did I do something to get myself on the wrong side of any South Americans or Spaniards?

He and Luck Gandor had crushed a small syndicate in Mexico once, but that was more than fifty years ago. He doubted anyone would be trying to get revenge for that now.

As sundry other questions ran through his mind, Firo gave in to his curiosity and decided to play along. If he failed to sound the guy out here and got himself shot in front of Ennis or Czes later on, he really wouldn’t be able to look them in the face again.

“All right. In that case, I’ll swing by.”

Telling the attendant to change his chips into cash, Firo stood up slowly. He’d be leaving the ship with enough money to cover their fares and then some, but even that fact had slipped his mind. He was worried about just one thing.

Now, if this guy’s just hitting on me…how am I going to get away?

The girl known as Illness was, as her name suggested, ill.

That was what the people around her had determined and what she herself had wished for.

Then she could say it was because she was sick.

Because she was diseased.

I’m not normal, so—

She’d believed that if she was ill, the things she was doing could be accepted.

She’d also been well aware this was just a delusion.

And so she’d tried to be human, but the people around her wouldn’t let her. No matter what she did, they always said the same things: “You’re weird,” “You’re abnormal,” “You are not okay.”

Illness knew you were supposed to get mad when people said such things, so she always yelled back at them, but—

—nobody took it as a proper reaction.

They thought her belief that she was ill was a form of escapism. They thought she was running away from the truth.

And as she listened to what the people around her said and how they reacted, a fear took root inside her:

Am I actually weird?

If the behavior of the people around her was any indication, the answer to that question was yes.

From a broader perspective—or from hers, at least—the answer was probably neither yes nor no.

She thought to herself about it.

The strangeness had always been there, ever since she was born. Not in herself but in her environment.

That, and in the objective of the parents who’d given birth to her.

Illness’s body was covered in scars, hidden beneath her clothes.

There were all kinds of them, from smaller injuries after being hit or cut all the way up to having bits gouged out or her skin ripped apart.

However, her parents had told her that this was right.

The people around her had said so, too.

“It isn’t because you’ve done anything wrong,” her parents had said. “Just relax; don’t worry.”

Then, smiling—her father had stripped the skin off her back.

It was a fairy tale in the woods.

A grisly story set in a European-style mansion, deep in the forest.

A tale from long, long ago.

An old, old fairy tale from seven years before.

This fairy tale began with a small girl’s screams.

Most of them were inarticulate. Even on the few occasions she managed to scream something coherent, it didn’t mean anything.

It hurts, she’d shriek, can’t breathe, it stings, it itches, it burns, it’s so, so, so cold, but the people around her just kept praying.

Not for her safety. They were praying to her screams, treating them as an object of worship.

Bring us good fortune, they prayed. We were happy today. Thank you.

They stood before the sobbing girl and did nothing but pray to her pain.

Even then, the girl didn’t say Help me. She’d been taught that help was something she gave to others.

The girl, who didn’t even have the name “Illness” yet…

…didn’t know what it truly meant to cry for help.

For that reason, she didn’t pick up on the significance of the things that were done to her.

She didn’t know that there was an unfamiliar world that wasn’t painful or hot or harsh.

She didn’t know there was a world where she wouldn’t have to get her fingernails ripped out.

Or a world where she wouldn’t have to get divots of flesh gouged out of various places around her body.

Where she could live without having her ribs taken out, engraved with letters, then returned to her.

Where she wouldn’t have to starve for two weeks, then be treated to a feast laced with poison that still wouldn’t grant her the release of death.

Where she wouldn’t be ordered to kill a girl her own age after a year together.

Just before the girl died at Illness’s hands, she’d been rescued by the spectators.

Then the people around Illness bound her. Once the girl had recovered, she came back for her violent revenge.

Illness didn’t know there was a world where such a thing was unthinkable.

She didn’t know a thing, and she didn’t try to learn.

After all, they’d taken everything from her—the possibility that any other world existed and even her thoughts.

That is, until she was nine years old and some children a little older than she was snuck into the Sanctuary.

Until she became friends with them.

Until they were nice enough to tell her that she was weird.

Until they were kind enough to say they wouldn’t let the adults around her get away with everything they’d done.

Until they tried to save her.

Until they told her about a new world.

Until, when they were just one step away from succeeding, the people around her caught them—and slaughtered them.

I’m the one who killed them.

It’s because I told them.

Because I was jealous of a world where you didn’t have to get hurt.

Because I asked for help.

That’s why they came to save me, and that’s why they all died, every last one.

Even then, they never stopped trying until the very end.

My father told the last survivor…

“That is my precious, beloved daughter. If you gouge out one of her eyes, I’ll spare your life.”

But that boy…

He took the knife they gave him and told me to run, then slashed at my father.

But my father had a gun.

And that was the end of that child’s story.

But the fairy tale in the woods didn’t end there.

Father saw me crying.

“We were wrong,” he said.

As smoke coiled up from his gun, her father had apologized to the girl and to everyone else—

—and after that, the girl learned about the world.

They told her all sorts of things about what lay beyond the forest.

They showed her TV programs. Picture books. Even Japanese comics. They gave her music and movies, taught her just how much hope there was in the world and how the children around her lived, and then—

“Ignorance dulls the pain, doesn’t it?”

—and then they did the exact same things to the girl as before.

The people kept praying to her, treating her as an object of reverence.

They said she wasn’t human.

They said she was a child of God.

One year later, a group of men suddenly came to the mansion, then shot and killed her parents.

From what she heard later, the father of one of the boys who’d been killed a year ago was a director at a major corporation somewhere, and he’d hired them—the Mask Makers—to do this job.

When one of the Mask Makers had found the girl with chains on both arms, both legs, and her tongue, he trained his gun on her. “You’re pretty obviously a victim,” he said. “What do I do now…? They did say to kill everybody inside.”

Listening to him, the girl learned that her own parents, the other adults, and even the children were dead, and she simply thought, Oh, good.

Her thoughts were vague, but she was glad they’d died without suffering the same pain she did.

She should have despised them. She’d cried when the boy was killed, but she didn’t hate them, and she didn’t think it served them right. That meant she was weird, didn’t it?

“Got any last words?” asked the man with the gun, and the girl answered him.

“Say, am I human? Or am I a god?”

At that, the man gave an awkward smile. “I see, I see. They told us to kill the people, but nobody said anything about killing gods.”

With that—she was taken out of the mansion.

And that was the end of the story in the woods.

The story that came after that one wasn’t all that much fun, either, she knew.

After she became affiliated with an organization known as the Mask Makers, they’d taught her what she needed to know in order to live among them.

It had hurt, but it was a different sort of pain from what had been done to her in the forest.

They’d trained her to kill people.

She definitely wasn’t in the woods anymore, but this wasn’t the new world she’d learned about, either. Still, now that she knew what was possible, she didn’t want to die on the streets.

If she said she didn’t want to kill people, they’d probably kill her—and if they didn’t, she was pretty sure they’d drive her away, and she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own.

Every time Illness wondered whether she was ill or not, her past came back to her.

It convinced her that she really was strange.

She believed without a doubt that she was sick.

She believed normal people wouldn’t kill others just because they valued their own lives.

She believed that if they were confronted with the choice she’d been given, people could choose to die with no hesitation.

After all, she’d seen it—if only she hadn’t.

What had saved her were the boys who’d tried to help her.

…And their deaths.

To her, they had symbolized the world.

What she was doing didn’t match what they’d done. What a strange person she must be, thinking she didn’t want to die.

Believing that she was truly sick—she’d listlessly gone to work today, as she always did.

The shipboard movie theater

“Hic… Hig…”

The girl called Illness was, as her name suggested, rather ill.

The people who knew her thought so, and given her current state, everyone nearby probably agreed, too.

The enormous cinema complex was located near the stern of the ship. The theater was actually an aggregate of seven small theaters, and for the duration of this voyage, they were showing what they’d termed The Shark Flight Collection: Claudia’s most prominent films and previous works by director John Drox.

What she was watching was one of Claudia’s major films: Attack of the Killer Edisons.

Edison’s spirit phone, an invention from his later years, has made a comeback in the modern era—until it’s possessed by a dreadful demon queen! One after another, Edison’s inventions are possessed by evil spirits and begin attacking people! Beware! The lightbulb is your enemy!

…And so on. It was one of those movies that absolutely anyone would call dumb, and the announcement that Claudia would be starring in it—and as the childlike demon queen, no less—had shocked the world.

This had happened immediately after she’d been universally acclaimed for her performance in her previous film, The Wild Dog in the Wind, as a girl whose parents had been killed by a police officer, kickstarting her career as an actress with genuine skills.

However, even in this ridiculous film, she’d given a brilliant performance as an evil young villainess, and the world had dubbed her “Claudia-of-All-Trades,” a nickname that might have been an honor—or perhaps not.

That aside, of the movies in which Claudia starred, this one was considered particularly extreme, and among serious Claudia buffs, you didn’t count as a true fan unless you’d seen it at least ten times.

After the climax of this universally acknowledged stupid movie (the scene after the ghost of Nikola Tesla sends the evil queen plunging into hell, when she reveals her final trump card and declares that she has taken the movie audience itself hostage), Illness was sniffling.

“Hic…higuuu…”

The other audience members had no idea what she’d found in the movie to cry about, and they worried she might have a stomachache or something. However, her peculiar appearance was a bit too much for them, and they couldn’t bring themselves to go up and talk to her.

After a little while longer, the movie ended, and as the credits began to roll, Illness applauded enthusiastically at the screen.

As soon as the movie was over, the bemused audience began to get up and leave, but Illness kept gazing at the screen, teary-eyed. Finally, she was all by herself, and when silence had descended over the theater—

“Are you okay, miss?”

Difficult as she was to approach, someone had spoken to her.

“Hic… Who are you?”

Wiping her eyes, Illness answered with an unrelated question, and the boy in front of her giggled. “My name is Thomas… Well, not really. It’s actually Czeslaw Meyer. Call me Czes,” he said, handing her a handkerchief, and Illness smiled through her tears.

“Hic. Thank you, Czes. Although I don’t know why you lied and said you were Thomas.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just something I always do.”

“?”

Bewildered, Illness dried her tears with the handkerchief. Normally, you’d expect so much eye shadow to run, but tears apparently weren’t enough to smudge it.

Seeing this, Czes began to wonder if the dark circles were real or possibly tattoos, but he decided not to ask.

“Why were you crying?”

The question reminded Illness of the reason behind her tears, even if she didn’t really understand it herself.

As she struggled to put the pieces together, the memory that came to mind was…

A conversation she’d had that evening with a certain movie star.

You must be a good person! the star had declared with absolutely no reserve or hesitation, and Illness had felt simultaneously delighted and guilty.

If nothing changed, the girl was bound to get involved. Illness’s group was going to jack the ship, and that meant Claudia, too. As long as she was on this ship, that was an incontrovertible fact.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah, aaaaaaaaaaah, what’ll I do? What should I do…?

Similar things had happened several times before.

On some of those occasions, she’d tried to do something about it.

But every time, Death or Life had said, “You’re being unprofessional,” and gotten in her way.

Well, I’m not a professional. I’m an amateur. That means it’s okay for me to save the people I want to save, she thought, even if the logic wasn’t totally sound.

Still, she hadn’t been able to defy them or the president; instead, she had prioritized her own life and plummeted into self-hatred, but—

—today was different.

Naturally, the president wasn’t on this ship, and Death was dead. Aging was on the other ship, and from what she heard, Life would be coming later, but right now, he wasn’t here.

So it’s fine, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

It was incredibly simplistic.

Incredibly thoughtless.

She was a member of a mysterious organization that was planning to hijack this ship for their business, and she was the most heavily armed of all her companions on board—but she had no trouble saying the one thing she shouldn’t.

“Um, listen, Claudia?”

“What?”

Claudia was wearing a confident smile, while the other girl’s face was listless.

“Is there any way you could get off this ship now?”

“? Why?”

“Well, um, I can’t tell you why, but something really awful might happen. If you can’t, then you should probably stay as close to a lifeboat as possible, okay?”

Claudia had casually struck up a conversation and said she was a good person, and that was enough for Illness to reveal the outrageous truth.

It was a betrayal of her organization, but as far as Illness was concerned, it was nothing of the sort.

After all, I’m not telling her anything specific.

This excuse, which did little to excuse anything, was already a legitimate reason in her mind.

“Where’d that come from? Whoa, can you see the future, Illness?” Claudia asked, perplexed.

Illness cocked her head, seeming troubled.

If there had been any businessmen around, they would have been hysterical, and they would have done far worse than shout at her. But Illness couldn’t have cared less. Without saying anything specific, she simply gave Claudia a warning.

“N-no. I can’t do that, but, um… Ahh, I can’t say. I can’t tell you, but… Anyway, it’s going to be terrible!” She flailed her arms around, then whirled toward the shark again, as if she meant to forget the whole thing.

She touched the shark’s realistically textured skin, putting the whole awkward conversation behind her, and began playing around with the animatronic.

There was a short silence as the movie star reflected on what she’d said.

Then she drew a breath.

“Say, Illness? Are you a good person? Or are you a bad one?” Claudia asked.

Illness had been admiring the shark’s movements up close when Claudia suddenly leaned in from beside her to get a good look at her face.

“Uh, huh?”

“Are you telling me you’re planning to do something to this ship?”

Wow! She’s really sharp! I mean, I haven’t said anything, but…!

“N-n-no! I don’t know a thing!”

It was true. She’d heard they were going to attempt a seajack, but they hadn’t filled her in on a single one of the specifics.

All they’d told her was, You’re insurance. If the police show up in a helicopter or a high-speed boat, getting rid of them is your job. Meaning if everything goes well, you won’t have to do a thing.

Illness was struggling to recover from Claudia’s question, and her eyes swam wildly.

“In that case,” Claudia said, “just tell me one thing: Are you a good person or a bad one?”

Illness was getting anxious as Claudia drove closer to the heart of the matter, crazy as it was, and so her answer was far, far more to the point than the other girl’s question had been.

“Umm… If killing people is a bad thing, I might be a reeeeally bad person…”

“……”

Huh? Did I just say something I shouldn’t have?

Just as her composure was returning, the meaning of her own words struck her, and she began shuddering violently.

“Oh! Uh, the thing is…”

It was too late.

Even before she understood specifically what she’d done wrong, her mind knew that she’d passed the point of no return. Plain as day, she’d said something no normal person ever would. She’d revealed she was patently weird.

Her already sickly face twisted further, as if she was about to cry, but—

“Hmm.”

—Claudia was an even weirder girl than she was.

“Well, good or bad, I like people who are honest, you know.”

“Huh…?”

“Besides, you were worried about me, weren’t you? So you’re a good person as far as I’m concerned! Killing people is bad, and if you kill someone I care about, I won’t let you off easy, but my great-grandfather is a legendary hitman, and he never would’ve married my great-grandmother if he wasn’t. It’s why I exist at all, so I can’t pretend I’m any better than you.”

Still wearing that confident smile, the redheaded girl made a bold declaration to the older girl.

“So have a little faith in yourself! Even if the whole world tries to shun you, I, Claudia Walken, will acknowledge you! To me, you’re a good person, so I’ll let you into my world, and that’s that! Oh, but one thing. Starting now, you’ll need to cut back on the bad things you do, all right? I don’t want part of my world getting herself shot and killed by the police!”

“Um…”

“When it’s time to kill you, I’ll do it myself. So don’t do anything reckless, okay?”

Maybe it was an arrogant thing to say or maybe it was just dumb, but Claudia meant every word. After her speech, she nodded firmly.

Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before.

The girl’s words had stuck with Illness. Illness wanted to know more about her, and so she’d come to see one of her movies, but—

—she’d already seen three this evening, and in every one of them, Claudia was different.

Claudia seemed to have everything Illness herself lacked. She seemed to know everything. But she was only pretending. Just acting out various roles. Illness understood that.

Still. Even so.

On the screen, she always shone.

Her light always shone the same no matter what its color—villain, tragic heroine, or anything else. Sometimes it was dark; sometimes it was piercing. If she had a flaw, it was that when she played a supporting character, she shone too brightly.

The world smiled on her.

She’d been blessed with everything: status, talent, and even luck.

Not only that, but she’d probably won all those things for herself through sheer skill.

So what had made Illness cry?

Because someone as dazzlingly talented as Claudia had acknowledged her?

Or because Illness was mortified, knowing that all she deserved was contempt?

She thought, but she couldn’t find the answer.

However, remembering the way the girl had sparkled, both on the screen and when she’d met her in real life, Illness started tearing up again.

“Wha…? Wh-why are you crying again?”

Czes hastily tried to comfort the girl, unsure what was going on with her emotions.

He was used to a certain crybaby from his past, at least, but this one seemed to be a different type.

Czes wasn’t exactly into comforting crying girls in movie theaters to begin with, but something else in their surroundings was bothering him, and he’d schemed to get close to her in order to learn more about it.

“Oh, in that case, would you like to go back to your room, miss? I’ll go with you.”

As the girl wiped her eyes, she looked at Czes and snickered through her tears.

“Hee-hee! You’re a little young to be seducing girls, you know. Maybe when you’re ten years older.”

“Shall I try again in another century or so?” Czes answered the girl’s joke with irony directed at himself. “Assuming you’re still alive then.”

And so Czes ended up escorting the girl, who’d introduced herself as Illness, back to her room.

She told him her cabin was on a lower level, near the bow, and the trip there took far longer than expected. At several points along the way, he’d intentionally taken a detour, and when they’d gone down the stairs, he was certain.

I’m being followed.

He didn’t know how many of them there were or their physiques, but he was being shadowed by a group of people, more than two.

In crowded areas, they hung back. When traffic thinned out, they came closer.

He’d caught glimpses of them before going to the movie theater, and the crying girl had provided the perfect opportunity to determine that he was in fact being tailed. If he managed to maneuver his way into her room, he’d probably be able to get a good look at what was going on outside. He’d also considered going back to his own room, but he didn’t like the idea of showing his opponents where that was.

He’d ended up pulling in someone uninvolved, but maybe he could patch things up after he’d nailed down what the other group was after. The thought was cold, as Czes could sometimes be, but at the moment, his fear was stronger than anything.

Ever since he ran into that man in black in the corridor that afternoon, he’d felt vaguely uneasy.

And for no particular reason—he was remembering that train.

He’d traveled by train and boat many times since then. He’d been terrified at first, but after several years, the phobia had faded. And yet this time…

The ship was far more spacious than the train, and Firo and Ennis, family he could trust, were here with him. Even so, he had a nasty premonition he couldn’t seem to shake.

That creeping feeling was as bad as the time he’d visited that isolated village in Northern Europe the previous year—no, even worse than that.

What is this chill? I feel like I just ran into an unusually happy Victor on the street.

Victor Talbot was an immortal who made Czes uncomfortable.

He hadn’t done the immortal any actual harm, but he often did things like mercilessly dig up and expose the past, including the past Czes would rather forget. Victor probably believed it was the right thing to do, but as far as Czes was concerned, it was nothing but trouble.

Was it going to happen again here? Were the parts of himself he hated going to come to light again?

Or would he have a direct run-in with terror, as he had on the train?

Both?

Argh. Enough; just stop. Don’t think about it so much; there are more important things now. Focus on whoever’s following you…

As Czes was working out his future plans, Illness, beside him, abruptly stopped in her tracks.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Czes. There’s nobody around right now, so I’ll tell you.”

“Wh-what?”

Wait, this girl isn’t going to attack me here, is she?!

His situation might be about to take a hard turn. He wasn’t sure what she planned to do and whether he should consider a fight from the girl welcome or not, but what really worried him was the possibility that he’d be attacked by the group who was shadowing him while he dealt with it.

Maybe it was a mature worry to have or maybe not, but while he was wrestling with it, Illness’s eyes gleamed sharply above their dark circles.

“I’m sorry, Czes. It looks like I’m being tailed.”

“Huh?”

“Hmm. They’re all on the small side, so they might be kids. Four boys and one girl, maybe? But some boys walk like girls these days, so that might not be right.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

For a moment, Czes didn’t understand what she was even saying, and he started to ask her what was going on.

But Illness just sniffed at the air and said, “I don’t smell any gas, so don’t worry, okay?”

And in the next moment—

“I’ll just go grab them. The area’s nice and deserted now anyway.”

—Czes realized something.

They were already below the lowest passenger cabins, on a stairway leading to the engine room and the storerooms.

That’s weird. I thought I was the one setting the route.

There was a door at the bottom of the stairs with a sign on it that said NO ENTRY.

Did she lure the group tailing us down here? And…me, too?

While Czes was still wondering about this, the girl leaped—but with so much force that it looked more like she’d been launched from a catapult.

Setting a foot on the railing of the rather narrow stairwell, she kicked the wall and traveled to the top of the stairs in one jump.

Hastily, Czes ran up the steps after her, but by the time he reached the top, she’d already flung herself into the corridor on the upper level. The way she bounded down the hallway, she was almost running along the walls.

No human can move like that, Czes thought, but he quickly corrected himself. No normal human can move like that.

He could think of several other people who reminded him of ninjas in a movie.

Nile, Denkurou, Christopher, Charon…

As several names surfaced in his mind, there was one that he was very careful not to think of.

“Ahhh-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaah. Ah-haaaah?”

She launched herself off the corridor wall…

…kicked a doorknob…

…flipped upside down and kicked the ceiling…

…then kicked the opposite wall and returned to the corridor.

It was completely ridiculous. She ran, sprinted, flew down the corridor as if she’d chosen to ignore the laws of gravity.

It wasn’t even clear whether there was a point to all her zipping around. Her movements were nonsensical—or maybe her trajectory, to be precise. So much so you might wonder whether it was intended to keep an opponent with a gun from drawing a bead on her.

And watching her, Czes finally arrived at the name he didn’t want to remember.

She’s almost like…

The…Rail…Tracer…

As he whispered the name, a chill raced down his spine, and traumatic flashbacks flooded his mind.

Desperately holding back the wave of panic, Czes shook his head, dispelling the illusion.

No, she’s not him! She’s not on that level; she’s still about like Nile…

As incoherent thoughts began to surface in his mind…

“…Huh?”

Czes calmed down enough to process the fact that Illness had some very unique abilities, much more than her appearance suggested. Then he heard screams from the far end of the corridor, followed by a playful call. “Czeees, I caught three of ’emmmm!”

“…Did I blow it?”

Too late, he realized that he’d just stepped into the extraordinary of his own accord.

Meanwhile, in a shipboard corridor

As Illness was bounding around the semi-suite floor…

Some distance away, on the floor of normal cabins, Angelo was showing Firo into his own room.

“So you’re in a suite, Firo? Well, how about that. I’m jealous.”

“Nah, it’s too good for me. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“It’s a problem you’re lucky to have. Would you like to trade me for my normal cabin?”

Just as they arrived at the room, Angelo’s cell phone rang and interrupted their conversation.

“…Excuse me.”

Angelo put a little distance between himself and Firo, then answered the call.

A coarse voice issued from the speaker. “Heya, Mr. Angelo, how’s it going? Didn’t expect to see ya in the casino back there. There you were, just hangin’ out with another guy like us, playin’ cards.”

“…Yes, sir, it’s been a while.”

“Whoops, is he close by? Eh, don’t worry; just gimme some random responses. You’ve got great timing, you know that? Before I went to the casino, I left some goodies in your room. Thanks for leaving the door open a crack like I asked; that was a big help.”

“You do sound like you’re well; I’m glad to hear it. I’m traveling on a ship right now; will you be able to manage the phone charges?” Angelo played along impassively.

The caller—the demolition guy—cackled and kept up the pointless conversation.

“Got me there. I’m calling from the same boat, and it still has to go from here through the satellite and back. Meeting face-to-face would be a hell of a bargain.”

“Yes, I’d love to see you again.”

“No way. I dunno how many times I told you to bring somethin’ formal, and you didn’t have one lousy tux. The whole casino thought you were a movie star, you know, on account of some event they’re doin’ on board. You might as well be goddamned Antonio Banderas; I don’t want to go around with you and have people remembering my face.”

“No, I’m very sorry, but I’m keeping a guest waiting. I’ll call you back later.” Angelo hung up and gave Firo a wry smile. “My apologies. I got a call from an uncle I’m not on the best of terms with.”

“Yes, I guessed it was something like that.”

Firo smiled back at him mildly, and a lukewarm silence ran between the two of them.

Angelo was the first to break it as he opened the door—and invited his disreputable guest into the room.

“This isn’t half bad.”

Firo looked around the normal cabin, sounding impressed.

In terms of price, it cost a tenth of what his suite room had. That said, the cabin was a smaller version of a relatively upscale hotel room, and if there was just one occupant, it was probably just right.

There was no balcony, so guests could only enjoy the view through a window, but watching the summertime ocean go by from an air-conditioned room was a fairly dignified pastime on its own.

A single crate meant for liquor bottles sat on a round table near the back of the room.

“Now then, I’ll treat you to that drink. I just bought some good stuff in the shipboard mall.”

Angelo gave him a genial smile, and Firo smiled back fearlessly.

“I appreciate it. And I won’t take any more than those chips were worth.”

The two sat down on opposite sides of the table, and Angelo silently set a hand on the lid of the crate.

A liquor crate, huh?

Gazing at it, Firo thought back to when he’d first become an immortal. It was sobering to think that if he hadn’t taken an interest in that crate, the person he was now would never have existed.

Firo had begun to fall into a pensive mood, but…

“By the way, Firo.”

…when Angelo interrupted those thoughts, Firo instantly shifted mental gears.

“About the company that runs your restaurant.”

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be called the Mask Makers, would it?”

“ ”

What the heck is that? Firo almost asked the question on reflex, but—

—his memories stopped him.

The Mask Makers.

If common sense applied, the words probably meant exactly what they seemed to mean—people who made masks. That was all, plain and simple.

…But some of Firo’s memories were sounding a sudden alarm.

That’s a special word—be careful, be careful, they warned him.

Whose memories were they? Was it something he’d seen or heard over the course of his long life?

No.

Were they memories from Szilard’s life, acquired when he’d eaten the man?

No.

This was deeper than that.

The system of memories was shaped like a tree, with many smaller branches forming offshoots from Szilard’s great trunk.

These were the memories of people Szilard had eaten or the memories one of those alchemists had eaten in their time.

serial murderer Italy a lord who’s fond of women

a drug Father made a mysterious phantom sacrificed children

the Rotten Eggs older brother Begg Garrott

Gretto.

They’re Maiza’s kid brother’s memories.

As he scanned the hazy, distant memories, he realized there was one more—

To one other person, the words the Mask Maker had a special meaning.

the children’s tragedy two boys two girls

Monica Niki criminal organization

band of mercenaries gold gold gold death gold gold gold one, yet legion

Lebreau.

The instant he realized which alchemist the memories belonged to, Firo aborted his dive.

I can’t.

I can’t look at Lebreau’s memories.

Firo felt an intense aversion to examining that memory set.

Compared to the other immortals, he could see only fragments, maybe because the man had been eaten by another alchemist before Szilard had eaten that person. In terms of his own recollections, they felt like memories from when he was between the ages of three and five or so.

Even then, if he went in deeper, he might be able to remember more vividly, but Firo felt he couldn’t afford to know too much about Lebreau.

That’s right. I can’t make his memories my own. After all, Lebreau—

Firo was abruptly yanked back to reality and out of his thoughts.

He’d only been thinking about the Mask Makers for a few seconds, but that had been more than enough to raise Angelo’s suspicions.

“I thought so. You do know something.”

His card handling was nothing compared to the speed at which a shiny black handgun with gaudy gold-and-red ornamentation appeared right in front of Firo’s eyes.

It was like a scene straight out of a movie.

Simply and calmly, the gunman shoved reality in Firo’s face.

“So let’s hear it. Tell me about the Mask Makers.”

“About your boss—and the guy who ordered the hit on mine. Everything you know.”

Meanwhile, on the bridge

Captain.

As the literal head of the ship, he was in charge of everything about the voyage.

However, unlike the captains of ordinary fishing vessels, ferries, or pirate ships, the captain of a luxury cruise ship like the Entrance needed far more than the usual requisite skills as a navigation officer, engineer, and charismatic leader of a crew.

This magnificent ship had everything—cabin service that befitted an enormous hotel, various stores in the shopping mall, and myriad types of entertainment and recreational facilities—and the ultimate person in charge of all of it was its captain.

As the one responsible for maintaining the safety of their voyage, he was required to show himself to the passengers, and he sometimes had to respond to unfair requests from guests as well. In order to lighten his load, he had appointed mates, hotel managers, and other assistants for each department before tackling the difficult work himself.

In movies, captains sometimes sipped wine and chatted with passengers, and this was also true to life. He had to ensure that his guests had the best time possible while not getting drunk himself, no matter how many glasses of wine he imbibed, and keeping a careful eye on the situation around him.

With this in mind, Folk Connor, captain of the Entrance, had been patrolling the ship, making sure all was in order, when the call came from the bridge.

After he made his way back, he calmly opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Chief Mate—”

And suddenly, a gun was pressed against his back.

“Right, great work.”

Then the captain noticed: In addition to the man who was holding him at gunpoint, there were ten or so “outsiders” on the bridge. They were dressed in completely different ways, but all of them wore elegant masks like the ones used at Italian festivals.

He would have loved to believe they were drunks who’d slipped out in the middle of a party, but unfortunately, there were no plans for a masquerade ball on the ship.

In addition, every member of the masked group held guns with very intimidating designs, showing that they were more than a disorderly mob. The captain trusted his intuition that said those guns were real.

He stood motionless and spoke gravely. “I was informed that a large ship of unknown nationality had appeared on the radar.”

“Too bad. It’s made up; we made your chief mate lie.”

He looked over and saw another man had a gun to the chief mate’s head. “I see. I’m glad to hear there’s no danger of a collision.” Even as he gritted his teeth, the captain worked hard to stay calm and keep his voice subdued. “In that case, no outsiders are allowed on the bridge, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“No can do, but I’m sure you already knew that.” Wearing an unpleasant smile, one of the masked attackers walked up to the captain. “Some people like to wait to snuff out that last ray of hope, but that isn’t our style, so I’ll tell you right up front: We’ve occupied everything from the communications room on up, so you won’t be sending out an SOS.”

“……”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. We’re not about to tell you to assemble all the passengers in the hall or anything. In fact, we want the passengers to continue their wonderful little voyage in total ignorance! I’m serious! At times like this, if you announce the seajack to the passengers, some special ops guy who just happens to be on board might find a way to get the word out or mess with the plan.”

The hijacker told his frivolous story with an equally flippant smile.

Naturally, no ship sailed without taking the possibility of a seajack into account. There were quite a few VIPs on this ship, and they’d flattered themselves that the security was flawless, but—

“All right, here’s a question for you.” The hijacker seemed to sneer at that idea as he spread his arms wide. “If we’re taking over a ship this big, just how many of us do you think there are? How much weaponry do you think we brought in?”

“……”

“The answer is, that’s a secret. You can check the passenger list if you want to, but we’re legit. Here’s a big hint, though: Not all of us boarded at the port. I’m not gonna tell you how.”

The hijacker was having a blast with this, and the captain ground his molars hard.

“Also, all the weapons are real. After what happened last year, what with terror countermeasures and all, security’s gotten seriously strict; you know how it is. You would not believe how hard it was to get this much heavy equipment on board.” The man proudly brandished the assault rifle in his hands.

There was a spare gun hanging from his waist, too, and for a moment, the captain considered grabbing it, but he understood that it wouldn’t be enough to turn the tides here.

“So let’s get straight to the point. We haven’t set a bomb in the engine room, and all your thousand or so staff members are walking free. Frankly, at this point in time, the only people who know something’s wrong with the ship are the people in here, in the communications room, and in the engine room.”

“What are you getting at?” The captain asked, and the men snickered before giving him his answer.

“Well, you see, the most important points we’ve seized are the ship’s ventilation control system and all the vents.”

“What…!”

“This ship is really something, isn’t it? From one single room, you can manage the air-conditioning for everything—from the passenger cabins to the leisure facilities and even the temperature in the storerooms. I mean, geez, it’s even got a forced-air system.”

As he explained, the man lowered his rifle and took a small bottle out of his jacket. It was an eau de cologne for men, a product from a famous manufacturer, which was also sold on the ship.

When he twisted the cap once, there was an odd click inside the bottle.

“So about this stuff…” A second later, he sprayed the cologne right at the face of the nearby chief mate.

“What are you—! Ghk…ungh…ga…ka-kah-kah-kah-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka! Ka-ka-kah-kah-ah… …… !”

The chief mate collapsed on the spot, clawing at the floor and gurgling with a noise like an insect. He flailed like a small animal on the verge of suffocation, and while he didn’t actually die, it took him a very, very long time to settle down.

“There. That’s what happens when you get just a puff of the stuff. Two hits in a row are fatal ninety percent of the time. So given what I was just telling you about the vents…I think you get the picture.”

“Why you…!”

Ignoring the murderous fury in the captain’s glare, the man quietly turned on his heel. “I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea, so let me tell you this: None of the passengers know about what’s going on. If you people just sit tight and behave, they’ll reach their destination without ever finding out. But if the police or anybody like that shows up—well, I don’t have to spell it out, do I?”

“What do you want? Money?”

“Yep. This is business, after all. I mean, I hear our president’s personal grudge is also involved, but whatever.”

The man replied without even blinking, and then he and his companions all laughed.

Their laughter irritated the captain. “Do you think our company will pay the ransom so easily?” he shot back fearlessly.

“Annnd that’s a negative, chief.” The hijacker snapped his fingers and pointed at the captain, right between the eyes. “You got us all wrong; if we radioed your parent company, you know they’d run straight to the police. Nope, no way, N-O. We aren’t planning to steal any money from your company. It’s just that if we don’t get control of the bridge, at least, they might not believe us over there.”

“Wha…? What?” the captain asked incredulously, but the hijackers’ representative cheerfully went on. “Listen, when it comes to movies, I always wonder: Why is it that seajacks and hijacks fail?”

“Because evil cannot prevail.”

“I mean, yeah, you’re not wrong, but damn, Cap, talk about cool under fire… Anyway, I think the problem is that there’s a hero within striking distance.”

“…?”

The marauder had said something odd, and the captain eyed him suspiciously.

But the man shook his head wearily at no one in particular, then impassively relayed some important information.

“Well, there’s no reason to hide it at this point, so I’ll tell you: We’re negotiating with those hero types. I mean, they’re not fighting for truth, justice, and the American way or anything like that, but from what I hear, they have some kind of special power, and if they see any hostages, they’ll save them without thinking of themselves. Well, our president’s the only one who knows specifically what kind of people they are, but anyway.” As the man rambled on, he struck an exaggerated pose, then leaned in until his face was inches from the captain’s. “…And so. This is something you could only do with twin ships like these.”

“No… Don’t tell me…”

“Yep. If you take both boats hostage at once—”

The man paused deliberately, then revealed the truth of the situation with utter delight.

“The heroes are only on one of the ships, so there’s nothing they can do. See?”

The hijacker cackled away—until his eyes suddenly sharpened behind his mask, and his voice turned solemn.

“By the way. Let me ask you the most important question.”

“Wh-what?”

The captain’s face was serious, and as the man spoke to him, his eyes were equally grave.

“You don’t have an ultimate cook or a special forces member on this ship, do you? I don’t want to run into any Seagals or Van Dammes.”

In the Prochainezo cabin

I wonder where Firo went.

Ennis, back from the beauty treatment clinic, now had baby-soft skin, but the expression on her face was full of anxiety.

Czes isn’t back, either.

The beauty treatment clinic had been a new experience for Ennis. As a homunculus, she’d never been all that interested in things like beauty and health, but she’d been curious as to whether the same beauty treatments that worked on humans would improve her skin, too.

She’d worried about what she would do if a professional beauty therapist picked up on some subtle anomaly in her skin elasticity and accused her of not being human. But all the therapists had actually said was, “You have such beautiful skin. Really, we’re jealous.” She’d spent a total of three hours undergoing beauty treatments.

She had no idea whether it had changed her internally or not, but either way, her skin was glowing now, and her hair seemed more elegant than before.

It doesn’t look strange, does it?

Her skin didn’t feel like usual, and Ennis had been meaning to ask Firo and Czes what they thought, but the room was empty when she got back.

Czes had told her, “I’m going to go explore the movie theater and places and stuff tonight, so don’t worry if I don’t come back,” while Firo had said he was going to go check out the casino.

So Ennis had gone to look around the casino, but she hadn’t seen Firo anywhere.

After returning to the room, she waited a little longer, but no word arrived from either of them.

I have to find them, she thought, and she’d just gotten to her feet when she heard a card key being swiped outside, and then the door opened.

When she saw Firo appear on the other side, Ennis gave a small sigh of relief. But then she noticed what seemed to be bullet holes in his clothes, and the sigh caught in her throat.

“Firo?! What happened?!”

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about it. I handled it. More or less.”

“What in the world…?”

“Ah, well, you know what my job is like, so I’m fairly used to this stuff, but…” Firo smiled awkwardly, then took his mangled, broken false glasses out of his jacket. “Aw, man… These were expensive.”

Physically, the head of their family didn’t have a scratch on him, but he looked exhausted as he slumped over.

“Once someone gets you wrong, it’s always so hard to set ’em straight…,” he murmured, plopping down heavily onto the sofa just as the room’s telephone rang.

Ennis hastily answered it, talked for a short while, and then—

“Um, Firo?”

“What?”

“It’s Czes… He says he’ll be spending the evening with an acquaintance, and he isn’t coming back to the room. He doesn’t want us to worry.”

“An acquaintance?” Firo thought for a while, wondering who that could be.

Had Claudia or Charon pinned him down? Or had he run into an old friend they didn’t know?

Czes had lived a long time, and it wouldn’t be odd for him to have one or two acquaintances on a ship like this one.

“Sheesh. He knows this is a family trip,” he muttered—and then he abruptly remembered what Czes had said to him as they were boarding.

“I’ll do my best not to disturb the two of you while we’re on the ship, and at night, I’ll hang out in the movie theater for you.”

Bwuff.

He didn’t have anything in his mouth, but Firo almost spat out his soul instead; his face was red, and he was breathing hard.

“What’s the matter?! Are you hurt after all?”

Worried, Ennis brought her face closer to his, but at the moment, that only made things worse.

His blush turned deeper and deeper, and Ennis looked more and more worried.

“Are you all right? Your face is bright red! Even immortals can temporarily run a fever from germs or poison, so you need to be careful…”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that!”

Firo shook his head emphatically, managing to take a few deep breaths.

Ennis looked mystified, but now that her husband’s color had returned to normal, she calmed down, too.

Taking another, longer look at Ennis, Firo commented on the effects of her visit to the clinic. “Hey, Ennis, you’re kinda shiny. Like on your face and your arms.”

“Huh?!” This time, it was Ennis’s turn to feel bewildered. She averted her eyes, as if she wasn’t sure what to do. “U-um… Is it…odd?”

“Course not. It’s pretty.”

He simply said what he felt.

He’d been through quite an ordeal a little while ago, but the mere sight of Ennis’s soft hair and skin and her bashful expression was enough to soothe his soul.

“It…it is?”

Seeing Ennis’s cheeks flush pale pink, Firo thought, Oh, she’s cute when she’s embarrassed, too. For him, it was enough. He decided the day had been a good one.

And so, to all appearances, the inexperienced husband and innocent wife’s first night passed uneventfully.

They had no way of knowing what was quietly playing out beneath the surface.