Baccano! - Volume 13 - Chapter Pr6

Prologue 6—They Deny God

2002 Summer

Something was very wrong with this church.

A group of several dozen strangely dressed people were assembled in a round room.

They were old and young, men and women; even their races were different. The gathering was quite diverse. You might expect to find any one of them at an ordinary Sunday service, if it weren’t for the strange aura around them.

Everyone present, adults and children, was dressed in the same way.

The actual type of clothing varied, but it was clear from a glance that they belonged in the same category. All the garments had the same odd design in red and black. The young men’s jackets, the women’s dresses, the children’s pullovers, and the old men’s robes were all covered in the same two colors.

All the lights were turned off, but the moonlight streaming in from an overhead skylight illuminated the place more brightly than one would have expected.

This room was perfectly silent except for the sound of breathing, and here—

—everyone stood around an empty altar. The strange, round fixture was positioned in the center of the room.

They didn’t pray, and they didn’t kneel. They just stood there silently, at ease.

Then, when the moonlight was nearly at its brightest—

—the door at the back of the room opened, and several men and women appeared, accompanied by about a dozen children.

At first glance, the man at the head of the group looked like a research student who’d snuck out of a lab. The moonlight reflecting off his glasses hid the color of the eyes behind them. He held a large bundle of loose documents under his arm, and there were several ballpoint pens in his breast pocket.

He was the very picture of a researcher, except for one thing.

His “lab coat” wasn’t white.

An odd pattern in red and black covered every inch of the fabric, as if it had laid waste to an ordinary lab coat.

“Hiya! Sorry to be late! That last boss was tougher than I expected. Had to hit Continue five times!”

With that, the mood was shattered, and the man walked over in front of the altar with a clownish grin.

“Still, you know how it is with these modern shooters! The bullets like fireworks around you, the thrill of dodging and weaving among them—it’s exhilarating! Just for that moment, you rule the world! It’s magnificent. A toast to the technical skills of the Japanese developers, who have made toast of yours truly,” the man rambled, placing the bundle of paper on the altar. Perhaps he was talking to the group, or perhaps he was merely talking to himself.

The children who’d come in with him dispersed to stand in a ring around the room, and a few adults lined up beside the man.

Two young women stood on his left and right, and two odd-looking men stood on either side of this group.

One was a big man who resembled a gorilla, while the other man wore a black suit and had bandages wound around his face. The bandaged man in particular was eerie in a way that made bizarre a better descriptor for him than odd. The bandages themselves were stained with the same red and black as the people around him; in fact, it was questionable whether they were even bandages at all.

His face and neck were completely hidden, and he was wearing bright-red leather gloves.

It wasn’t possible to tell the man’s age or race, and he made the already creepy scene even more uncomfortable…

But the young man in the red-and-black lab coat didn’t seem to care, and in fact he seemed completely unconcerned. “Okay, okay, okay, quiet down! Quiet! Wait, I guess I’m the only one talking. Beg your pardon, folks! I’m a really shy person, and this is… Well, you know? Standing here with all of you makes me terribly, terribly nervous! …So there’s no way around that, really.”

He adjusted his glasses and looked around, but he didn’t make eye contact with anybody. Despite his rather foolish grin, his gaze was darting around through empty space in a patently dubious way.

“Besides, uh, you know what I mean. We have someone new with us today—a woman. Problem is, I really can’t talk to women, truly… So, uh, let’s have a round of applause! Everybody, clap! Give it up for our new friend, Miss Lucotte!” the young man cried in an attempt to disguise his nervousness.

He held out his hand to a young woman standing among this odd group.

She was dressed in an outfit with the same colored design as the lab coat. As she took an embarrassed step forward, she thought to herself:

What the hell is this?

The thought was full of confusion and contempt.

One month previously Somewhere in Europe

Celice Artia was an employee at a detective agency, and her fate was decided the moment her boss—whom she hardly ever saw—tapped her on the shoulder.

“You want me to infiltrate them for a report…sir?” she asked, confused.

“Yep,” he answered casually. “It’s a mildly problematic religious group with some characteristics distinctly similar to those of a cult that was active in the past.”

None of this was unusual.

For the right price, this detective agency would conduct fairly risky investigations that were kept separate from its usual business.

They had probed into the seamier areas of various societies before, including the occasional background check of mafiosi and politicians using illegal methods. Celice herself had made contact with various criminals and gangs of thieves.

Her work had brought her to religious groups a few times as well, and it wasn’t as if she’d never felt that her life was in danger.

However, this was the first time she’d heard a job referred to as “infiltration.”

Naturally, there were other employees who did that sort of thing, but she couldn’t understand why this job had come to her.

Even as those thoughts ran through her head, Celice asked her supervisor about the details.

“A cult from the past… How long ago are we talking?”

“A good while. Just about three centuries.”

“Huh?”

“Way back when—I dunno exactly where it started; I think Spain or Portugal—this group of religious weirdos was scattered all over Europe. It was more an ideology than a religion, really… Anyway, now there’s a new sect cropping up with the same mind-set. God knows why now, of all times. All the details are in here, so take a look.” With that, Celice’s boss held a single CD-ROM out to her. “Give it a skim, then decide whether you’ll take the job. I can’t force you to pick this one up.” Once he’d said his piece, he left.

She gazed at the CD-ROM uncertainly for a little while, but eventually, she realized she’d never get anywhere if she didn’t at least look at it.

And so she loaded the data into her computer and opened it.

As a result, she ended up inside that peculiar church.

What is this? Some kind of joke?

The religious group was called SAMPLE.

It was a ridiculous name, in her opinion.

According to what she knew, this sect was descended from another that had been found all across Europe several hundred years ago. That ideology hadn’t been widespread; it was more of a localized collection of isolated groups here and there.

She didn’t know whether those scattered units had been in contact with one another. One thing was clear, however: At one time, there had been untold numbers of them, and then, in the blink of an eye, that number had plunged.

During the infamous witch hunts, they had been true heretics.

They hadn’t split off from some larger religion; apparently, they’d had their own completely independent doctrine and faith.

Still, they would have been considered blasphemous not just in the eyes of the largest, most prosperous religion in that area but probably by most regions and religious denominations around the world.

Child murder.

Of all the customs condemned as heresy the world over, theirs was no doubt the most heretical.

Yes, the sacred books of a few religions did include child sacrifice, but in the case of SAMPLE, the word sacrifice didn’t hold quite the right nuance.

When she’d seen the passage about the deliberate abuse of children for faith-based reasons, she’d initially assumed it was some sort of sacrificial act, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.

The children’s blood and souls weren’t offered up to a god, or to nature, or to any sort of higher power.

It was written that they had offered “pain” to the children and treated their screams—or their deaths—as an object of worship.

She hadn’t understood what it meant. What sort of beliefs could lead to such behavior?

Even stranger, the reason for inflicting that pain wasn’t clearly defined.

Its significance seemed to change depending on the specific subsect, and some of the remaining records had described groups whose ideology had been more like magic, the polar opposite of faith: “If you eat the flesh of a child, you will become immortal.”

Over a period from the end of the seventeenth century to the beginning of the eighteenth, the church had sent out its chivalric order and destroyed a certain country’s particular sect, which was considered to be the most influential.

The philosophy behind that group’s child-killings had been “Making them shoulder all the misfortune in the world.”

As an idea, it wasn’t something she couldn’t understand in the first place, but she couldn’t fathom acting on it in an era when the witch hunts were almost over.

That said, fanatical groups were responsible for all kinds of incidents, even in the present.

Maybe they’d chosen the deviant course of sacrificing their own children because they’d lost sight of what was around them.

Of course, it was probably deviant only as far as her own sensibilities were concerned; within their community, it had been normal.

Still…that faith has been resurrected in the present? What’s going on?

When she read through more of the data, she learned that the group seemed to spontaneously well up from time to time, even today. According to one theory, there might have been a main organization that had existed all along, with factions that showed up in mainstream society every now and then.

Was the organization she was infiltrating the main one, or a faction, or a group that had simply seen and copied past records?

She had to admit she’d been curious about that.

However, her main reason for accepting the job had been the enormous reward listed on the job order.

There was also the fact that it all seemed very unreal, and she hadn’t been as wary of the group as she should have been.

…And so she had acquired the official identity of a stranger named Lucotte and flown to another country to infiltrate the religious group in question.

The request itself was a simple one: After the clients’ son had joined that religion, he had started contacting them less and less frequently. Something seemed odd, so they wanted Celice’s company to look into it.

In cases like this, since the individual had made a voluntary decision, it was hard for the police to take action unless there was a clear crime. They’d requested an infiltration to find out whether the group was doing anything criminal.

With a record like this, you’d think the police would’ve cracked down on them a long time ago.

The group’s own doctrine embraced child abuse and murder. Technically, she thought it was weird that it hadn’t been broken up already, but she managed to accept the fact after thinking about it for a while.

Well, if they said all that was three hundred years in the past, I guess even the police wouldn’t cross-examine them about it.

In addition, there were no signs that they were actually kidnapping children; they seemed less harmful than a gathering that played at devil worship as a hobby.

The data she’d received from her boss had contained almost no information about this present organization; they didn’t seem to be living communally, and they had no restrictions on time or location.

They really do seem like a group of hobbyists.

With some chagrin, Celice had made contact with the group—

—but there were a few things she hadn’t noticed.

The intelligence in the data file she’d received from her boss was factual—but she didn’t know he’d obtained it from a dedicated information broker. Nor that this person could obtain intel that wasn’t ordinarily in open circulation…and that the file fell into that category.

From the fact that the group had no restrictions regarding time or place and the fact that they hadn’t been marked by the police, she’d mistakenly assumed that the people around them knew.

If she’d done some checking around on the Internet, she probably would have realized.

Both the general public and the police were almost entirely unaware of the organization’s existence.

Even the clients, who were the young man’s parents, probably didn’t know about the religion’s past or its origins.

The perfection of the data had made her careless; none of this should ever have seen the light of day.

In other words, the information broker her company had used had been too good.

There was also one miscalculation that had nothing to do with her:

Her boss had been stingy with the broker’s fee.

As a result—the broker hadn’t included any “deeper” information in the data.

The deepest, most vital information…

“Even today, that group is extremely dangerous. If you don’t want to ruin your life, you must not get involved with them.”

Information that could have changed Celice’s fate.

And so, with no way of knowing any of this, Celice—who was pretending to be someone named Lucotte—gave an incredibly reluctant internal sigh.

Is this literally a children’s club?

She’d managed to contact them with startling ease. They’d initially asked her, “Who told you about this organization?” but that was all; they hadn’t truly interrogated her or been wary of her at all.

And now, three days after she’d made contact, they’d said they’d introduce her to the religion’s founder.

I swear—this is going so well, it’s frightening. With a group this soft, infiltrating them is a piece of cake.

Even as she scoffed inwardly, Celice spoke respectfully to the young man in front of her.

“Yes…I’m pleased to share the same faith as the rest of you.”

“Oh, no, no! Don’t be so stiff! There’s no need for such formality here. Just act however you like!” The bespectacled young man smiled awkwardly.

At the moment, he seemed to be the one in charge. Regardless, to all appearances, he was nothing but an uninspiring researcher. The black-and-red design only appeared as a contrived attempt to look tough, one that actually made him seem less reliable.

I can’t imagine that this guy is the founder… I suppose he might be a caretaker.

The big, inhuman, gorilla-like man and the man with the bandages concerned her, but at this stage, the organization still seemed like a club of eccentrics to her. Maybe they were like a group of fans who had been influenced by a self-proclaimed devil-worshipping rock star.

If they had had the enthusiasm and fanaticism of such a group, it would have been frightening, but what the bespectacled young man said had only disturbed the mood a little.

It really does feel as if it began from some sort of university club.

Although…it does seem odd to find children and mature adults here as well.

Even as she got the very minor sense that something wasn’t quite right, the man with glasses continued in a detached way, averting his eyes.

“So, uh, you see, I hear Miss Lucotte Diaz has lived in England since she was a child, and her hobby is baking cookies. I’m looking forward to having her bake some for us, aren’t you?! Ha-ha.”

He laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, but since he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone, it had absolutely no effect.

“Uh, I mean, it’s not that I can’t bake cookies myself or anything. It’s just that, you know, making them for other people to eat is scary. What if they hate them and stop being your friend? Oh, uh, the thing is, what I’m trying to say is, well, um… Oh, right. I’m introducing Miss Lucotte. Ha-ha.” The second forced laugh did nothing to brighten the mood.

This guy is pathetic, Celice mentally sneered, but she kept listening without letting the emotion show on her face.

“Ha…ha-ha… Ahem. Uh, so, well, you know how it is; she’s…”

If this was how it was going to be, this job would probably be an easy one. She’d report that there was absolutely nothing to worry about, sniff out a few of their weaknesses just in case, and that would be that.

Internally, Celice chuckled to herself, but—

—the next moment, both her inner smile and her actual expression froze simultaneously.

“She’s… Ah, right! She’s a Hillrom University grad! That’s a good school, you know! I’m incredibly jealous; my school was bottom of the barrel.”

Huh?

She forced herself to break out of the ice freezing her thoughts, but it happened again.

Huh?

She kept trying to think, but the only thought that would form was confusion.

Hillrom University wasn’t in the paperwork for Lucotte Diaz.

It was the university Celice herself had gone to.

“After graduating from university, I hear she joined the St. Crystelle Firm right away. She successfully completed various jobs, both open and private, earning the trust of the company. That’s really splendid! Trust has a value that can’t be exchanged for any form of money.”

Her heart was racing—more like sprinting at this point.

It was leaping so violently she thought it might burst.

The St. Crystelle Firm was the name of the detective agency where she actually worked.

The false self she’d built up, acquiring a stranger’s official identity and personal history, even a fake passport…

They know…about all of it?

She wanted to think it wasn’t possible.

She didn’t want to believe it.

As a professional with one foot on the wrong side of the law, she’d been self-assured.

A group of patent amateurs like this one really couldn’t have found her out.

After all, if they had, she was doomed before she’d even begun.

Suddenly, she felt like throwing up.

Sweat broke out all over her body, then instantly evaporated, chilling her skin. She couldn’t sense anything from the outside; the only feeling in her brain was her own subtle trembling.

However, her expression still remained neutral.

He had to be trying to trap her into an admission.

That simplistic wish let her stand her ground, one step away from the brink.

“What are you talking ab—?”

Pretending to be calm, Celice tried to put him off the track, but sadly, her attempt ended in vain.

After all, the bespectacled man wasn’t listening to her anymore—he hadn’t been listening to her in the first place. He had no intention of listening to her after this, either.

“On top of that! She came here from that detective agency, all by herself, to infiltrate and investigate our group! Talk about brave. She didn’t even know what she was getting into! Give her a hand, everybody! Let’s give her a sincere round of applause!”

The next moment, the confused woman was bombarded with admiring, envious applause.

What?

She had absolutely no idea what was going on.

She didn’t understand what was happening or why she was being applauded.

But the people around her kept clapping, and she was still confused.

“Oh…” The sound escaped her involuntarily. She didn’t even know what she’d been trying to say.

What is this?

What kind of joke is this?

She was beginning to feel as if she’d stepped into a world where nothing made sense. Maybe she’d wandered into Wonderland, like Alice. It was as if she’d been abruptly invited to a house party by people she’d met right then, and all she could do was stand there in silence and watch events unfold around her.

“Oh, that’s right! We were going to introduce you to our founder today, weren’t we?! Let’s take care of that now. Except, uh, you already have. In a way. Hi.”

“……Huh?”

“Ooh, ouch! ‘Huh?’ she says! Yikes. I knew it: Humans are scarier than anything else! I got a ‘Huh?’ from a person I just met… Well, it doesn’t matter. Whether you believe it or not, I’m Bride, the forty-third founder of SAMPLE. It’s great to meet you.”

“…”

Celice’s mask of calm finally crumbled before this man calling himself Bride.

She gazed at him, her face a mixture of fear and doubt. He looked like a gloomy researcher and nothing more. He didn’t have a shred of charisma—hardly the kind of man people would trust to lead them.

“Calling myself the forty-third ‘founder’ may not make all that much sense to you, but what it really means is ‘the progenitor of the teachings.’ We don’t have blind faith in a single human being; we believe in our sacred book, as it should be. We can keep the same faith, even if our founder changes. At the same time, our canon is still incomplete. Thus, even if someone new takes the position, they are a founder and originator who continues to create our doctrine. Which means—” Muttering in a low voice, Bride shuffled around the bundle of loose-leaf paper on the altar.

The papers were densely covered in small writing, while the later sheets were blank and white. When she looked closer, she noticed that the first section was parchment or something like it, and that the paper gradually got newer down the stack.

“—I suppose you could say this sacred book is our true object of worship,” he murmured. “Carrying it around has gotten to be kind of a hassle lately, so we’ve been batting around the idea of digitizing it. What do you think? Our sect has been around for over three hundred years, but in some respects, we’re rather modern. That said, bigger and older religions than ours have been making full use of modern conveniences for a good long time now. Makes me jealous.”

Celice couldn’t understand what he was saying.

A sacred text on loose-leaf paper? And some of it’s blank?

And to top it off…you’re telling me this awkward, insecure nerd is actually the leader?

Various questions whirled inside her, and she opened her mouth to say something, but she had so many questions, she didn’t know which to ask first or even how to string the words together in her head.

Then Bride smiled, clapped his hands together, and drove the final nail into the coffin of her reasoning.

“Okay. Starting now, I’ll become the founder for a bit!”

“…?”

“My thanks to civilization,” said Bride, gazing up at the ceiling. He slowly extended his hands to either side.

Each of the two young women flanking him placed an object in one of his hands.

Syringes?

They were indeed syringes, the type used for ordinary vaccinations. They appeared to be filled with a clear fluid of some sort, and together they might have been about three ounces.

The man skillfully tapped the air bubbles out of the syringes, and then—

—he plunged them into both sides of his neck simultaneously.

“ !” Celice gave a wordless scream.

However, the bespectacled man was unperturbed. Slowly, he pushed in the plungers. “Oh, no need to worry. It’s just a glucose solution,” he said quietly with an unreadable smile. “You see, uh, unless my brain is saturated with sugar, I can’t fully perform my role as the founder.”

The muscles of his neck moved slightly as he spoke, and the syringes shifted with them.

Before she could even worry about the risks of that, the injection was complete. He withdrew the empty syringes from his neck and gave them to the women who stood beside him.

“…”

Without a word, the man briskly turned around and returned to the altar. He removed his glasses.

Celice looked at him as he stood, still facing away from her.

…She realized the mood had changed completely.

“Ohhh… Ooooooooh…”

With a sigh that sounded like a groan, Bride bent backward, and the sound of all his joints cracking reached her clearly.

“OouuaaaaaAAaaAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAaaaah… ”

The groan became something like a scream, and as it ended, time came to a stop around her.

She felt a chill; the air was oddly cold and heavy.

The actual temperature hadn’t changed as far as she could tell. No one had turned the air-conditioning up or down. It wasn’t physically cold.

The air was simply, genuinely icy.

When she looked, the smiles had disappeared from the faces around her. Their expressions weren’t tense, but the eyes of children and adults alike were akin to an emotionless abyss.

I blew it.

That was when it finally hit her.

I screwed up. I made the wrong choice!

She never should have come here.

The people before her weren’t here for mindless fun, and they were nothing like a university club. They had something that clearly set them apart from the rest of the world.

Setting down his glasses, the man slowly turned around.

“Allow me to greet you again… It’s good to meet you.”

His smile was pleasant, but the depths of his eyes held no emotion, as if dark, dull glass beads had been set into his skull.

“Eep…!” A scream escaped Celice. Everything was feeling less and less real.

The individual who’d turned around was that awkward young man from before, she was sure. He’d merely taken off his glasses.

Somehow he was a totally different person.

The change was so complete, one might suspect a split personality, but it was nothing of the sort. The man’s brain had simply been fully nourished with glucose.

“Let me welcome you, she who was once Celice Artia, she who is now Lucotte Diaz.”

This was a different person, though, or so she wanted to believe.

People snap in an instant and lose their minds. His transformation was of a similar type.

It was as if the uncertain young man of a moment before had been pulverized and reconfigured into a new shape. After such a great change, one might wonder at how much a pair of glasses could change someone’s appearance.

It was like a scrambled Rubik’s Cube had instantly snapped back to its default configuration, so clear you could almost hear the click.

With a mere two injections, less than three ounces of glucose solution, the man was now complete.

No, it was more than the man—the world around them might as well have been replaced.

The emotion that assailed her was less fear and more anxiety. The unease of being instantly transported to an alien world.

Existential dread roiled inside Celice, as if everything she’d ever been was falling away.

The world around her kept spinning in its own unique time, leaving her behind.

“Now…let us sing.” Bride smoothly spread both hands. His eyes were already closed.

He was talking less, and even as excitement seemed to buzz all through him, down to the ends of his capillaries, he sounded far more collected than he had a few moments ago.

There was no longer anything heartwarming about the believers around him. Their tension was based not in anxiety or fear, but in respect.

What’s…about to happen? Celice wondered as their world left her behind, but the man ignored her and waved both of his outstretched arms like a conductor.

And then—

The answer lies within us. Fear death.

“““The answer lies within us. Fear death.”””

A monotone canon echoed through the church.

The world lies within them. Dread life.

“““The world lies within them. Dread life.”””

It didn’t come from the believers.

Fear death. Fear death. Dread life. Dread life.

“““Fear death. Fear death. Dread life. Dread life.”””

The children who had entered with Bride and the others a moment ago stood by the walls, singing in clear voices. They were less than ten years old.

Your own flesh accepts death. Your own heart wishes for death.

“““Your own flesh accepts death. Your own heart wishes for death.

Yet still you live, O noble goats. 

Yet still you live, O noble goats.”””

When she looked closer, each of the children wore headphones over their ears—and every one of them was blindfolded. Their sight had been taken away, and if any sound was playing, they wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world.

They could sense nothing around them but what smell and touch could tell.

And still the boys and girls continued singing the tuneless song in beautiful voices.

Quell the soul that is to be devoured. Worship pain.

“““Quell the soul that is to be devoured. Worship pain.

We affirm our god Who does not exist.

We affirm our god Who does not exist.”””

She couldn’t detect any emotion in the children’s voices, but somehow, the sound was like a scream—and she was certain.

That’s exactly what they are. Those are the screams of the children.

What was playing through those headphones? She was far away, and she had no way of knowing.

When she looked closely at the boys and girls, she noticed that their hands were behind them.

A glance at their feet revealed sturdy-looking shackles, which suggested their hands had received the same treatment.

Taking another look at the children, she saw that something seemed very wrong, and then she realized why.

Their clothes didn’t have the red-and-black design on them; instead, the cloth was a white so startlingly pure one might imagine it was made of fine snow or swan feathers.

The cut of the garments was simple, yet they exuded a sense of airy beauty.

If that was all you looked at, the children seemed like angels—those classic religious figures—or the heavenly maidens and fairies that appeared in folktales the world over.

However, the much more practical physical restraints undercut that illusion.

The bound children simply continued to sing.

Their song held none of their own emotions, carried on impassive screams.

Bride moved his hands in an elegant, flowing manner, directing that unsettling “song.”

The children were little more than speakers, there to be his voice now that he’d grown quiet.

Death is a neighbor to be feared.

“““Death is a neighbor to be feared.

Life is kin to be dreaded.

Life is kin to be dreaded.

Our god

Our god

departs from within us

departs from within us

and returns to oblivion.

and returns to oblivion.

Agony abides with light,

Agony abides with light,

fury and shame dwell in shadow.

fury and shame dwell in shadow.

In their illustrious presence,

In their illustrious presence,

I simply consume a single leaf from the garden.

I simply consume a single leaf from the garden.

Fear god.

Fear god.

Fear thyself.

Fear thyself.

The acts of pity—

The acts of pity—”””

Don’t… Stop it.

The wave of singing voices undulated like a snake, coiling slimily and sickeningly around Celice’s heart, then squeezing it violently.

What’s wrong with them…? This is insane; this can’t be right.

The abnormality was clear, and their malice was palpable.

The believers who stood between Bride and the children were listening to the song in rapture and ecstasy.

Finally, Bride lowered his hands in a smooth motion, and the singing voices broke off neatly.

And Celice saw it.

The smile of the conductor held unmistakable happiness. The expression surpassed delight and pleasure to become pure euphoria.

Slowly, Bride covered his face with his hands and chuckled, lowering his head.

To Celice, every single move he made was unpleasant and terribly creepy.

At the same time, she understood:

This stomach-turning room had her life completely in its power.

What a horrifying joke.

They had caused her no pain.

They hadn’t taken her family or a loved one hostage.

They hadn’t forced her to witness an atrocity.

Even so, this place was unbearably disturbing.

She understood nothing but the hopeless truth that she should never have come here.

Her eyes were fixed on the something that had abruptly arrived in this room a moment ago.

It was neither a god nor a devil, just a human. And that was why Bride, whatever he was, made her blood run cold.

The anxiety crawling on her skin threatened to swell into terror, and the peculiarity around them became a formless grotesquerie.

Bride walked through the stagnant air toward Celice again, smiling quietly.

“Now, as for what we’ll do with you…Lucotte.”

Even the way the man spoke had changed, and his words made Celice tremble in spite of herself. She had completely succumbed.

Bride addressed her in a solemn voice. “You will marry me.”

“Aah…! …?”

“Don’t worry; it won’t be for long. Once I’ve found my true heart’s desire, I’ll divorce you, then kill you gently.”

“…?” She felt as if something vital had been stripped from her.

Marriage was a word she hadn’t even been able to imagine from the mood here. The threat of death that came afterward was less surprising.

Then, before Celice could get her emotions in order—

—a dizzying whirlwind of changes blew through, changes even more unimaginable…

There was a percussive roar, and Celice’s nearly blank mind woke up.

At the same time, the doors of the cramped church flew open—and several men forced their way in.

What?! What now?!

They appeared to be either Southeast Asians or darker-skinned East Asians. The tan, black-haired men were shouting something angrily in a language Celice couldn’t begin to understand.

However, what concerned her more than their words was what they held in their hands.

There seemed to be seven or eight intruders in all. One of them held an enormous machete that looked to be half his own height, while about half of the rest held smaller blades. The final three or so gripped small, gleaming, black handguns.

“Eek…!”

With an involuntary shriek, Celice retreated to the far wall and crouched down.

Meanwhile, Bride and the rest of the group remained perfectly calm. They only turned, slowly and silently, to look at the men.

At first, the men just kept yelling, but when they saw that the group inside wasn’t responding, they gradually lowered their voices and exchanged looks.

They seemed to have no intention of putting their weapons away, though, and one of the men with a gun was sweeping it back and forth as if searching for someone to shoot.

“Wait… This can’t be real…”

“Oh, they aren’t part of us.” Standing beside the shivering Celice, Bride smiled quietly. “We ended up having a little trouble the other day. We’re both foreigners in this country, and we would have preferred to get along with them, but… It’s a pity.”

Shaking his head regretfully, Bride slowly resumed his smile, and then—

—as founder, he issued an order to the silent believers around him.

“All right, everyone. If nothing changes, these men will kill us all. How truly dreadful.”

Wearing an innocent, saintlike smile—one that held neither ill will nor desire—he said:

“I don’t want to die, so before they can do anything—”

Thirty minutes later

What followed was a perverse and hideous sight.

However, it would be about a month before Celice’s mind managed to process it completely.

Right now, she was simply trembling, like a soulless shell with vacant eyes.

Bride, now wearing his glasses again, put an arm around Celice’s shoulders and slowly drew her toward the church’s exit.

Holding the stunned woman close, he glanced away and began muttering to himself, the charismatic aura from a moment ago already gone. “Official paperwork aside, we’re man and wife as far as our doctrine is concerned, so, um, let’s get along and all that.”

“…”

Celice had temporarily become a shell of herself; it wasn’t even certain whether she was conscious.

Bride kept talking to her anyway, beginning with a bit of a non sequitur. “You see, our doctrine doesn’t condemn desire.” With a glance, he signaled the two women who were walking beside them and had them bring out several photographs. “So, you know, I want everything I want. That’s how humans should be. Um, so, what I’m getting at is… Well, erm, Miss Lucotte, once I get together with one of my first choices, we’ll divorce, and someone—probably me—will silence you. So I thought maybe you’d have an easier time dying if you knew a little more about my first choices. Ha-ha.” The remark probably would have infuriated Celice if her mind had been present.

He showed Celice a few photos. The first one was of a silver-haired woman with an ethereal sort of beauty.

“This is Miss Sylvie. Pretty, isn’t she? Makes your heart beat a little faster. She’s much, much, much older than me, so I’m nervous about that as well.”

He turned that photo over, and the next one showed a rather sickly-looking girl.

“And this is the next candidate. She’s younger than me… Apparently, she calls herself Illness. Odd name. She was a priestess with ancient, honorable origins from another branch, but that entire branch was massacred. Still, I guess that name could work, technically—”

Along with his meaningless commentary, the man flipped over one photograph after another. These showed men of various ethnicities.

An Asian man with narrow eyes.

A dark-skinned man who wore a peculiar mask.

A young man with a carefree smile.

A black-haired, golden-eyed youth with an intelligent expression; a tall man with glasses; a gaunt, whiskered man—all the different people were beginning to run together.

“These fellows are male, so they aren’t candidate wives. According to our doctrine, though, they’re living gods, so we have to safeguard them carefully.”

Then he plucked out one photograph in particular.

“Oh, right,” he said happily. “This one, this child. He’s the one! In a way, he’s even more important than the wives.”

“…”

“He really ticks all the boxes! I’m sure this boy would become a magnificent god for us! Um, his name was… That’s right, Czeslaw! It’s Czeslaw Meyer, or so I’m told!”

Bride opened the door of the car waiting for him outside the church and laid Celice—still stunned and immobile—down on its back seat.

Behind him stood the man whose face was completely hidden by red-and-black bandages.

“Oh, leaving already?” Bride asked. “…Okay. In that case, I’ll see you on the ocean next.”

In response to the oddly candid remark, the bandaged man nodded silently, then climbed into the backseat of a different car. The car pulled away.

Watching the black car leave a little ahead of his own, the “founder” quietly looked around.

The believers had already changed clothes by the time they’d left the building. They filtered back toward their homes and lives, dressed like anyone else.

As he saw them off, the young founder gave himself a quiet pep talk.

“Now, then… The next mass will be the first big one in a very long time. I was starting to worry about whether I could run it on my own, but… It’ll be all right. I can do it. If anyone can do it, it’s me. If it’s me… Hmm… Well, I’ll pin my hopes on the power of glucose.” Smirking at himself, he climbed into the back seat and spoke to the woman driving. “Okay, take us to Orihara’s. I have to return the key to the building. It sounds as though he’ll dispose of the bodies for us for free, so I need to thank him for that in person.”

As the car began to move, he turned his eyes to the skyscraper district outside. Gazing at a building in the distance that was larger than the rest—the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building—he smiled.

“This is a lovely country, isn’t it? It has such a wealth of arcades.

“…I hope the shipboard mass is as fun as a video game.”

CHAPTER 4

THE IMMORTALS ARE IN A TRAVELING MOOD

A day in August 2002 Yokohama Port

“It’s the ocean!”

Although he was old enough to know better, the young man threw his arms wide in a sincere show of excitement at the sea.

“Wow! The ocean’s so huge; it doesn’t get better than this! You know that saying about having ‘a heart as big as the ocean’? People think it means ‘forgiving,’ but I think it probably means it’s so big it doesn’t even notice little stuff! Okay, everybody smile!”

The man was shouting non sequiturs, and none of his companions seemed impressed.

“If we were only staring at the ocean and burst out laughing, people’d think there was something wrong with us.”

“Let me just say this: The ocean is bound to accept even a man like yourself, so go drown in it until you are satisfied.”

“Do not assume the sea is insensate. Such a mentality could result in an environmental crisis.”

The three responses were different, but none of them agreed with him. Still, the young man replied with a nod of approval.

“I know, I know. The ocean’s great, isn’t it?”

“Let me just say this: Listen when people are talking.”

“I did listen. And then I ignored you.”

“Let me just say this: Elmer, go die. In fact, I’ll venture to kill you myself.” With that, the man—a dark-skinned individual who wore the sort of mask used in festivals in South America or Southeast Asia—promptly caught Elmer’s neck with one arm and began to choke him.

“Can’t get away with anything around you, huh, Nile…? Koff!”

Even as his face turned purple, the young man—Elmer C. Albatross—kept right on smiling. The woman who was with them ran her fingers through her silver hair, smiling uncomfortably.

Stealing a glance at her bewitchingly beautiful profile, the Asian man who was standing a short distance away murmured to himself, “…How comely.”

“Hmm? Denkurou, did you say something?”

“N-no, ’twas nothing, Sylvie.” Denkurou averted his gaze, and the woman tilted her head, puzzled. She seemed to decide she’d been imagining things and looked back at the ocean.

The members of this mixed quartet were of different backgrounds and ages.

However, from another perspective, their differing ages were still very close.

After all, since they were over three hundred years old, they naturally seemed to fall into the same age bracket.

Elmer C. Albatross,

Nile,

Sylvie Lumiere,

and Denkurou Tougou.

These four had two things in common.

The first was that they had crossed the Atlantic on the same ship in 1711.

The second was that all four had unique, immortal bodies.

The moment they drank what had been termed the “elixir of immortality,” their bodies had become simultaneously human and inhuman.

They could suffer wounds or even death, but the immortals’ bodies would repair themselves whether they wanted them to or not. When a single drop of their blood was separated from its host, it would begin to wriggle like a creature with a will of its own, attempting to return to the source.

And yet, they also retained normal circulation, water balance, and nutrient supply. It was a truly convenient body to have.

Although around thirty immortals had been born on that ship in 1711, at present, only a third of them remained. Other new immortals had technically been created later on, but they didn’t count at this point.

Only immortals could kill other immortals.

If one immortal put their right hand on the head of another and thought, I want to eat, they would absorb the other’s physical body and knowledge, exactly like a vacuum cleaner.

No one knew where the mass went. Someone had theorized that it might be converted into the tremendous amount of energy it took to transfer the knowledge, but that immortal had already been absorbed by somebody else.

Ordinarily, one would have expected the immortals to grow paranoid of one another and live through eternity fearing shadows that might try to devour them—but these four, at least, seemed free of any such suspicions.

About a month ago, with the help of another immortal named Maiza Avaro, Elmer’s group had managed to reunite with the final missing immortal, Denkurou.

After that, Maiza had said he’d achieved his objective and returned to New York with another immortal, but Elmer and the other three had stayed in Japan for a relaxing break.

They hadn’t been living together, though. They’d each had their own reasons for staying in the country.

For example, Elmer had decided that Japanese games were fantastic (to use his own word) and spent days on end in arcades and toy stores. During his stay, he had studied the language through games and leveled up his language ability enough to clear visual-novel games in their original language.

The four of them had gathered again for one reason.

“Huey… He’d better not be plotting something,” Sylvie murmured suspiciously, glancing at the small booklet she was holding. It looked like a leather-bound passport, but it was in fact the needlessly fancy boarding pass for a certain luxury cruise ship.

Huey Laforet.

He was one of the surviving immortals from 1711, and for a time, he’d been notorious in America as a terrorist. They knew he’d been arrested by the police in the 1930s, but none of the four had heard anything after that.

However…

Although they had rented out separate lodgings in Japan, last week, out of nowhere, invitations had been delivered to all four of them.

Boarding passes to a luxury cruise ship had been sent in the name of Huey Laforet, accompanied by a brief message: Let’s meet on the ocean.

“Frankly, I don’t understand this at all.”

Sylvie had initially considered ripping hers up and tossing it, but just in case, she’d decided to talk it over with the other three.

As it turned out, the others had also received tickets. During the ensuing discussion, Elmer had joked, “If Huey’s involved, and we ignore these, we’ll get the same tickets again. Every single day.” That had ended up being the clincher, and they decided to take him up on the invitation.

Between making sure they had their affairs in order to leave the country and finishing all the other preparations, they’d had almost no time to spare.

As a result, Sylvie’s group hadn’t really looked into what sort of ship the Exit was…

“…I’d heard it was a luxury cruise ship, but I never dreamed it would be this grand,” Sylvie murmured in amazement as she turned to look at the black thing she’d spotted out of the corner of her eye.

Moored at the large pier of Yokohama Port, it was best described by the word alien.

Elegant, opulent, resplendent, magnificent—all those terms would have been fitting if you were only paying attention to size. But more than anything, the word that best suited the object floating on the waves was alien.

The luxury cruise ship Exit.

It was like an imperial marine stronghold, as though a fortified city had been converted into a resort after the war and set afloat on the ocean.

One of the world’s most distinguished cruise ships, it had been built a few years earlier as a joint project between enormous Japanese and American corporations.

The giant vessel was said to employ all sorts of luxuries and navigation functions that were ahead of even the most advanced ships.

Even though it was a passenger vessel, the unique ship was equipped with huge cargo bays that were used for various events and large enough to drive cars around in.

In the past, international game shows had been held on board, and it was even more famous as an event venue than a cruise ship.

However—there was one more unusual thing about the vessel.

Its sister ship, Entrance.

A second ship of the exact same type had been built, and the pair had been christened Entrance and Exit, in the sense of “Entrance to paradise” and “Exit from the ordinary,” respectively.

The most vivid display of the uniqueness of these two ships was the “Crossing” that occurred when they sailed across the Pacific or Atlantic Oceans. The ships would pass within eyeshot of each other, and each vessel would launch fireworks toward the other, wishing it well on its voyage.

“That’s incredible! What do you suppose happens when black and white ships overlap?! They might turn into that yin-yang symbol, the one that looks like a penguin’s face! Hey, what happens if it summons something?”

“Hmm. Frankly, that would be troublesome.”

As she watched Denkurou absently deal with Elmer’s antics, Sylvie ran her eyes over the ship again.

The two sister ships were the same model, so there was only one thing that distinguished them.

Their overall color.

While the Entrance was swan white, the Exit was as black as deep darkness. If the latter sailed with no lights on a dark night, it would mostly likely be hard to spot.

In contrast with its elegant white twin, the vessel had an aura of majestic power.

After looking at it, Sylvie glanced at her ticket and read about the ship’s specifications.

Full length: 1,004 feet.

Total height: 180 feet.

Total width: 171 feet.

Due to the size of the cargo bays and the event stage, its regular crew was slightly smaller than usual for a ship this large, but even so, it had the capacity to carry more than twenty-five hundred passengers and a thousand crew members.

“It even has a beauty treatment clinic. I’d like to go, but it’s bound to be expensive…” Sylvie had been murmuring to herself for some time now, possibly because the longer she looked, the more uneasy she grew. She turned to Elmer and asked him another question. “Say, are you sure this is all right? Huey hasn’t set some sort of trap so he can use us as guinea pigs for something, has he?”

“I can’t say there’s no chance of that, I guess. Huey might even kill his own flesh-and-blood daughter to satisfy his curiosity.”

“…”

“So I won’t force you. I’m going even if it is a trap, though. I do want to see Huey again; it’s been so long.” Elmer was boarding this ship not because he intended to stop Huey or felt responsible or anything. He only wanted to see his friend.

Sylvie had no way to respond to that, and she sighed. “You and Huey really are close, aren’t you? You’d think the two of you would be like oil and water.”

“Really? We’ve known each other for three centuries or so, but we’ve never fought.”

“Maybe not to you. I doubt he’d agree.”

“Yeah, Huey used to tell me the same thing all the time,” Elmer replied nonchalantly.

Sylvie fell silent, a little nonplussed.

Elmer was a guy she just couldn’t bring herself to hate.

You couldn’t hate him—but he was totally unhinged.

That was Sylvie’s impression of him.

Holding a conversation with him was possible, but sometimes she didn’t feel confident that she was talking with someone of the same species. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking, and she couldn’t read him at all.

Even so, Sylvie had decided Elmer was trustworthy. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have shown himself to other immortals this openly.

Well, I wouldn’t really mind if it was a trap, either.

Sylvie’s only goal in life had been avenging the death of her lover after the tragedy of 1711.

One of the alchemists who had obtained immortality had begun to eat his companions, one after another. Back then, Sylvie hadn’t yet drunk the elixir of immortality, so she had been spared. On the other hand, a young man who’d been everything to her had vanished from the world.

Gretto…

As she remembered her lover’s name, his face, his voice, Sylvie quietly clenched her fists.

Szilard Quates, the man who’d eaten him, no longer existed. She’d completely lost sight of her goal in life, but she hadn’t lost the energy to live. She’d once been shattered by despair and had nearly given in to the feeling of emptiness—but now she was living to find a new goal.

Gretto… I’ll make sure I remember you forever.

He had definitely existed in the past, but now, he was gone.

Thinking of him, Sylvie shook her head softly.

But if that’s my goal, it would be missing the point.

I’ll find a goal that’s just for me. I’ll live on and use my remaining time well. I’ll make him proud.

Quietly, Sylvie had made up her mind. That decision had kept her from fearing this voyage, even though it could be a trap.

If I die here, then that’s that, and anyway…

…if one of my companions from that ship is planning to attempt something idiotic, I have to stop him. I’m sure Gretto would have done the same.

In the end, Sylvie realized, she hadn’t completely let go of the shadow of her past lover.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought as she gazed at the luxury cruise ship, and she smiled.

It was almost time to go, and the four of them set off for the large pier, but suddenly, Elmer asked the other two the question Sylvie had asked him a moment earlier.

“What about you, Nin-Nin and Nile? Are you worried, too?”

“Let me just say this: I do not particularly care. When it comes to Huey, nothing he does would surprise me at this point.”

“I believe we’d do well to be cautious, but… Ah, wait, Elmer. Was that ‘Nin-Nin’ intended to apply to me?” As Denkurou asked his question, he thrust out a hand, palm facing outward.

Elmer responded with a breezy smile. “Well, sure. I don’t want to call you Ninja, so starting today, you’re Nin-Nin.”

“You might simply call me Denkurou, as most others would… I am not one of those shinobi ruffians.” Denkurou sighed, sounding put out.

“Aw, c’mon…,” Elmer whined, but he seemed to reluctantly agree to call him by his real name.

Relieved, Denkurou turned to look at the ship, but his eyes instead stopped on Sylvie, who was also gazing at it as she walked along a little ways ahead of them.

Hmm… Sylvie certainly is lovely, isn’t she?

If he wasn’t careful, his heart would be stolen; he rang a clear-toned bell in his mind, calming his emotions.

It was Gretto who had won Sylvie’s heart, and no doubt Sylvie still had feelings for him.

No matter. Gazing at an unobtainable blossom from afar is a diversion in its own right.

With a wry internal smile, Denkurou quietly looked up at the ship, but—

“Hmm… I was unable to see them myself, yet perhaps the infamous ‘black ships’ of which I’ve read were not dissimilar to this… Certainly, if several vessels this enormous bore down on them, the people would inevitably riot.”

“Let me just say this: I am positive they were this big.”

“No, I imagine they seemed equally strange to the people of that day.”

“Ah, I see… Denkurou. Will you be all right, traveling by ship?”

“? What are you saying? I have no recollection of suffering seasickness on the Advena Avis…”

Denkurou seemed puzzled.

“I hear you were frozen in ice in the Arctic Ocean, long ago,” Nile murmured, sounding detached.

“…I was traveling on foot at the time. I have no aversion to the ocean itself.”

“I see. That is good to hear… I rather dislike ships, personally.”

“Why is that?”

So this fellow has things he would rather avoid. Imagine that.

On that thought, Denkurou asked his question out of simple curiosity, and from behind his mask, Nile answered in the same impassive tone.

“They remind me of the Advena Avis.”

“…Ah.”

In one tragic night, they had lost many friends.

They had gained eternal life, but it had brought the worst possible results: death and murder.

“Do you regret becoming immortal, Nile?”

“Let me just say this: Immortal or not, the fact that I am alive is the same. If I have time to regret every little thing, I will use that to obey my instincts and live.”

“Instincts, you say! Indeed, that is quite like you.”

In the course of this conversation, the group had reached the entrance of the terminal on the large pier.

Inside the terminal building, there were lots of passengers who seemed to be waiting to board the same ship.

There were only a few Japanese people; the majority were white, black, or from other non-Asian races.

“We aren’t Japanese, either, but this feels odd for a ship that’s leaving Japan,” Sylvie remarked.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” Elmer replied, inexplicably cheery. “I hear there are tours where people come here by plane, then return to America by ship. It’s probably hard to decide which to spend more time on, coming or going.”

“They do say Japan’s in a recession right now. Maybe people wouldn’t go out of their way to travel on such an expensive cruise ship.” She seemed convinced by her own logic, then shot a glance to the side. “Never mind that… Nile, why don’t you take off your mask here, at least? Everyone’s looking at us. Security guards included.”

Nile, who was standing tall in his usual ethnic costume and mask, objected to Sylvie’s cold glare. “What are you talking about?” he retorted. “Let me just say this: I am merely the trigger. After that, the one everyone looks at is you.”

“…”

Now that he’d brought it to her attention, Sylvie looked at the people around them.

Everyone—men and women, young and old—looked at Nile first, then turned their eyes to Sylvie, his companion. The children seemed to find Nile more unusual; they kept waving at him until their mothers pulled them away.

“Oh… I’m sorry. It looks like you’re right.”

The gazes of the men in particular seemed to twine around her in layers. This was nothing new, but the fact that she’d reproached Nile did make her feel rather awkward.

“I wonder if I should just be happy about it?” Sylvie sighed.

Denkurou fell silent, thinking, while Elmer gave his usual answer.

“Okay, for now, go on and smile! You’ll be even prettier if you smile.”

…An answer that solved nothing.

“Oh, looklooklooklook, over there. Look, Miss Lucotte. Her, it’s her…! I showed you her photo earlier, remember? That’s Miss Sylvie!”

“…Yes.”

“Magnificent… This is nothing like seeing her in a photograph! I— Well, you know how it is, uh, I mean, I just… I thought I’d picked out a particularly good picture of her! But just look! This is almost like… Uh, it almost makes you think the picture was a bad one.”

As he spoke, the man gripped the hand of the woman who stood beside him: his “wife,” Celice, who was currently going by the name Lucotte.

He sounded incredibly cheerful, and although he was speaking to Celice, his attention and gaze were riveted on Sylvie, who was sitting on a bench some distance away.

The silver-haired woman was wearing a dress designed to generously expose her arms and cleavage, with a simple jacket draped over her shoulders like a cape. The contours of her arms were slim and smooth, beautiful as those of a finely polished plaster figure.

Her willowy loveliness had a solid core reminiscent of the most graceful carnivores.

Her smooth, silken bangs fell softly over her face, and the uneven cut of her bobbed hair only served to accentuate her even features.

“What’ll I do? I’m getting nervous.”

“…Yes.”

Celice’s eyes were as vacant as a doll’s, and her only response to the man’s voice was a nod.

Bride wasn’t listening to her, though. He was gazing at Sylvie’s beauty, captivated.

By general standards, Sylvie fit into the “beautiful” category quite easily. However, her loveliness wasn’t the natural sort used to depict goddesses in pictures. She was brimming with the allure of a demon from fantasy stories, a succubus or an imp, specifically tailored to human desires.

Her beauty was the truly devilish type that charmed even members of the same sex—but Celice wasn’t moved at all. It wasn’t even clear whether she was looking in Sylvie’s direction.

However, Bride didn’t care. He completely ignored her reactions and rambled on unfiltered about his own excitement.

“Alluring, isn’t she…? She’s an Italian sculptor’s magnum opus and life’s work, a plaster figure, a sculpture. She doesn’t depict a goddess or an angel or a saint—she symbolizes a succubus or prostitute, a beauty that kindles human desires…”

“…Yes.”

“Whoops! I am technically a man of the cloth, and you may think it’s odd for me to compare her to goddesses or angels. But our doctrine acknowledges the myths of other religions as well. Only as stories based in fantasy, though.”

“…Yes.”

“What do you say? You think your beauty could never rival hers, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s what I thought.”

“…Yes.”

“Are you jealous?”

“…Yes.”

“Are you averse to dying?”

“…Yes.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“…Yes.”

“That’s fine, then. At the earliest, you’ll be, well, you’ll be disposed of during this voyage. Do you have any last words? I am your husband, after all! Let me do that much for you!”

The question was neither mockery nor sarcasm. Bride was asking out of a sincere sense of duty and justice, a genuine belief that as her husband, he should listen to his wife’s last words.

That was what made the question especially eerie and awful, but as she was now, Celice didn’t even register that.

She couldn’t think.

You could see from her eyes that she wasn’t in her right mind, and yet she had just enough of an ego left to stand on her own and complete the departure formalities. Meanwhile, she kept repeating the same response.

“…Yes.”

“What was that?”

“…Yes.”

“Your last words are ‘…Yes,’ hmm?! I see… Acceptance itself is your last will; you accept everything, both life and death. And you’ll forgive everything, even my killing you. That’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“Thank you… Really, Lucotte, thank you. That’s a wonderful answer. I’d expect no less of my wife. The one who’s meant to be my other half. You’re also a splendid interim priestess, Lucotte.”

For the first time, Bride turned his face toward the hollow-eyed woman, and—

—slowly, he covered her lips with his own.

For a moment, the life returned to her face.

“…N…no! NooooOOOoooo! …Ghk…!”

As Celice began to scream, one of the women who attended Bride struck her with a karate chop from behind.

Celice slumped against Bride’s chest, unconscious.

“So she still had some sanity left,” Bride muttered, still in his “timid young man” persona, holding the unconscious woman close. “How sad; it will only be painful for her… Still, that sanity will make her a better priestess for us…”

Quietly shaking his head, he handed Celice off to the big, gorilla-like man who’d been standing beside them.

That scream certainly hadn’t been a faint one.

In addition, there were families and couples and solo travelers all around them.

However…Celice’s scream and the female attendant’s knifehand strike had been completely ignored. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

The space itself was abnormal.

No, it wasn’t the space. It was the people in it.

Bride and Celice stood by the wall, surrounded by a solid semicircle of passengers.

Every one of them—adults, children, and senior citizens—had one common item in their luggage: the red-and-black sacred garments that each would wear.

They were all members of SAMPLE.

The ship’s waiting room was full of people who knew everything and who were completely on Bride’s side.

There were only about two hundred of them present, comprising less than a tenth of the people who would be on the ship.

Yet, that still meant they made up about 10 percent.

Holding both good and ill will in equal measure, for their own sakes as people who had placed their faith in themselves, even as they heard Celice’s scream in their hearts—

—every one of them wore a smile.

“Hey, buddy. Got a second?”

“…Hunh?”

Still standing tall, Nile scowled with dull irritation behind his mask.

There was a woman standing in front of him, even taller than he was.

“Yeah, sorry to bug ya. I’m just curious… Does that mask mean something? I’ve been eyeing it for a while now, and the wonderin’s driving me nuts,” she said in English.

The woman was easily over six feet tall, for one. She was covered in muscles, easily more than Nile himself, by all appearances. That said, her proportions made it easy to tell she was female, and with her big-sisterly kind of face, she was more beautiful than not.

Despite Nile’s peculiar appearance, she had marched right up to him. Perhaps she was curious, or maybe she was that sure of her own strength. Without changing the expression behind his mask, Nile muttered to her:

“…Let me just say this: I wear it for my own amusement.”

As a matter of fact, there were various reasons and circumstances involved, but there wouldn’t be any point in telling them to someone who wasn’t an immortal, or so Nile judged. Thus, he’d given a simple answer.

For a moment, the woman’s eyes went round, and then suddenly, she gave a masculine laugh.

“Gah-ha-ha! That’s real easy to understand! I getcha… For fun, huh?! Well, well! Sorry ’bout that! I couldn’t help myself; had to ask! Thanks, buddy!”

The woman raised a hand, then walked away, still laughing that distinctive staccato laugh.

“…Let me just say this: What in the world was that woman?”

“Well…I imagine any individual who is intensely curious would want to inquire into the reasons behind that mask.”

At Denkurou’s straightforward answer, Nile folded his arms for a while, then asked the other two, “Let me just say this: Is it that strange?”

“Woooow, that’s kind of a basic question, isn’t it? After all this time, you’re asking that now? Man, Nile, that was a great joke! You have my respect for that one, so I’ll give you a laugh! All right, which would you prefer, a suppressed chuckle, a snicker, or a mocking laugh?! I bet I could hit you with the best sneer in the world!”

“For now, let us skip straight to the results and simply split your sides.”

As Nile’s hand formed a claw and hit Elmer’s gut, Denkurou gave a weary sigh, not bothering to stop him, and Sylvie watched the woman’s receding back.

“She’s so toned, and her bust was still huge… That didn’t look like silicon. She must have trained very carefully.” She sounded impressed.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Sorry, Nile, sorry! I was wrong! Hey, don’t stick your fingers between my ribs, okay?” Elmer’s apology was sincere, and once Nile had released him, his gaze followed the woman, too.

She’d already joined the crowd, but even from a distance, her six-foot frame was easy to spot.

“That woman is seriously buff. She could’ve walked straight out of a fighting game. I mean, look at those Chun-Li legs. Can’t you imagine mashing the attack button and watching her kick ’em to death?”

“Let me just say this: I do not play games, and so I do not understand what you are saying.”

“You should! Especially since you came all the way to Japan. Not that there’s all there is to the country, of course. Come to think of it, I saw you lose a fistfight for the first time, Nile. That’s a good memory, too.”

“Let me just say this: Do not talk about that.”

“Where were we when it happened? I’m pretty sure it was—”

“I warned you.”

This time, Nile’s hand-claw hit his face, and Elmer’s body rose lightly into the air.

As he listened to his own skull creaking, Elmer slapped at the hand, still smiling. “Y’know, Nile, I’m getting the feeling that since Maiza’s not here, you’re giving me enough comebacks for two. That’s its own kind of fun, but I dunno what I’m gonna do if I lose my face! I won’t be able to smile!”

“You could smile in writing,” Sylvie deadpanned as she waited for the line at the immigration control gate to thin out. Exchanges like this were routine, after all. “Still, I’m impressed that woman spoke to Nile in English. You really can’t tell where he’s from just by looking at him.”

At the same time, she took another long look at Nile—and the worry filling her heart changed into something else.

“Speaking of the way Nile looks, I always wonder: How does he get past immigration?”

“How ’bout that! Just for fun! Who’d have thought! That was dumb of me.”

As the tall woman headed for a corner of the lobby where the crowd was slightly thinner, she spotted a boy who’d been standing there and called to him.

“If we’re talking about being dumb, I’d say the dumbest thing was what you did a second ago.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! It’s been bugging me ever since I saw the photo! Why does he wear that mask?! Once we’re enemies, I won’t be able to take my time and ask him, y’know?”

As Aging cackled away, Rookie rubbed his temples and shook his head.

“What the hell. I never dreamed you’d simply walk up and talk to the targets. I never thought—”

“I getcha; you don’t have to say it twice! Gah-ha! What, have you gone senile already at your age?”

“You’re the one who’s senile!” the president hissed, struggling to keep his voice low, and Aging thumped him on the back with a laugh.

“Hey, you’re young! Don’t sweat the little things!” Her fan-sized palm knocked all the air out of his lungs.

“Gwuff!” He staggered but managed to regain his balance just before he fell over, then turned to glare coldly back at her. “That’s enough, Aging.”

“All right, all right; no need for the stink eye… And? Where’s the rest of ’em?”

“On the ship. They’ve already finished their preparations.”

“I see. Then we should probably get a move on, too, huh, President?”

Addressing the boy in the tuxedo the way she always did, Aging picked up the luggage from beside him—

—and the boy shot her a sharp glare.

“Don’t call me that. During the job, I’m Rookie, remember?”

“Picky, picky. When a girl like me calls you President, you should look away with a lil’ smile, all bashful and happy and awkward-like.”

“You are such a headache…”

Ignoring her chortling, Rookie slowly started toward immigration. Once he was away from his veteran weapon, he put on his public mask and got ready to board the ship.

And as for that public face…

“Um… You’re Mr. Rookie, right?!”

“…”

Someone called his name in his native language. When he turned around, he saw a kid of about ten who seemed to be waiting to board the same ship. A little ways away, the boy’s family was watching the two of them.

The kid came running up to Rookie and tugged at his sleeve, smiling at him innocently.

“Do some magic!” the Italian boy cried.

“…”

Rookie fell silent for a short while, as if hesitating, but then—

—with a sudden, startlingly graceful smile, he closed his fingers into a loose fist, then waved it in front of the kid.

And then—several bouncy balls appeared from his empty hand.

“Whoa! Cooool!”

“Here. They’re yours.”

“Huh?! Really?! Thanks!” The boy ducked his head in gratitude, then trotted back to his family.

The woman who was probably his mother waved at Rookie.

Luchino Campanella’s public face was the boy magician known as “Rookie Warlock” Luchino, who had gained some fame in a few countries.

Wearing his stage magician smile, the boy began to board the ship, where he would be working as an entertainer.

He’d need to pull off jobs for both his public and private personas simultaneously—

And yet, in the moment that boy had smiled because of his magic trick, half of his tension had dissolved.

Every time he killed someone, a sort of hopeless feeling seeped into his heart like mud, building up. Whenever he saw someone else smile that way, the sensation of the boiled-down sludge churning inside him eased, if only for a moment.

It’s just escapism, but…

His father had trained him in this profession to hide his darker side, but he had taken it as seriously if it had been his real trade.

Rookie had been presented with other options, but he’d chosen the unique public face of a stage magician.

No, I don’t care if it is escapism.

I can run away or go forward, but either way…I certainly can’t stand still.

It wasn’t clear whether he cursed the burden of his fate or had resigned himself to it, but before that sludge could well up to the surface, the boy forced it back down and gave the child and his family another smile.

For that one moment, he felt as if his false self could become the real one.

For Rookie, the president with public and private faces, the smiles of others were the one thing he just couldn’t part with.

After Rookie had gone, the boy proudly showed off his bouncy balls to his family.

“Heh-heh! Jealous?!”

“No faaair! That’s not faaaair!” A girl who’d been hiding in their father’s shadow stuck her hand out, pouting.

When it looked as though they might start to fight over them, their mother broke in, smiling.

“None of that. There’s more than one, you know. Share.”

“Okaaay.”

“’Kaaay.”

The boy gave his little sister one ball, then unzipped his bag so he could put away his own.

They were a cheerful-looking family; both the parents and children were happy. Their guileless smiles suited them well.

If nothing else, those smiles were real.

But inside the luggage of their oldest boy, there was an outfit.

A children’s outfit with a distinctive red-and-black pattern.

The luxury cruise ship Exit departed with a crowd of passengers, a fistful of violence, another handful of malice, and a sprinkling of immortals…

And so the enormous closed room headed out to sea.

This small world began racing over the waves of the Pacific, bound for the scheduled crossing with its sister ship.

The ocean, vast and unchanging, lay before the vessel as if it meant to swallow everything, all intentions good and ill, and their consequences—

And on board that vessel—an atrocity began unfolding, calculated for the benefit of one.

Compared with the ocean, it was far too small.

Compared with the world on board a ship, it was far too large.

In the middle of the silent ocean, entirely unnoticed, hidden from all—

—oh so quietly, the tragedy began.