Baccano! - Volume 14 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

THE INVERTED WORLD

January 1932    New York, in front of Alveare

“…I heard he was here, but…”

It was dusk, and the chill in the air made it extremely obvious that it was winter.

A woman who was dressed for a society outing was standing quietly in relatively poorly lit New York alley, which contained an establishment whose light and aroma made it stand out from the rest.

It was called Alveare, a honey shop.

The sweet scent tickled her nostrils, and it felt as if she might be able to fill her belly simply by standing there.

“Is that boy really here…? He can’t be. Maybe the president was just pulling my leg.”

As she murmured, Rachel—often referred to as the “woman in coveralls” during a recent incident—was remembering the events that had happened at the end of the previous year.

The Flying Pussyfoot affair.

As far as the world was concerned, the matter had been covered up, but she had been involved in it under two different identities.

One was a gofer for an information broker.

The other was a criminal who repeatedly stole rides on trains.

She was a sort of junior employee for the information broker—at the DD newspaper—and she’d been on that train because she was bringing home information about an event in Chicago.

She hadn’t bought a proper ticket, though. She’d ridden without paying.

Now that she’d stopped, her reason for stealing rides struck her as a silly one, but Rachel had done it for revenge.

A railway company had hung her father out to dry. She’d wanted to hate the railways themselves, and yet because her father had loved them, deep down, she hadn’t been able to. Ride-stealing seemed to be the only real revenge she could take.

After the incident was over, something about it had continued to nag at her, and so she’d gone to her employer, the president of the information brokerage.

“I’m sure a child was killed on that train,” she told him.

She’d seen it clearly.

The moment when the red shadow had pressed the boy against the rails, and half of his body had been ground away.

He can’t possibly be alive, she’d thought.

But that monstrous red conductor had said something that bothered her.

On the train, when she’d asked about the boy…

“Just ask the guy in person later.”

His tone was so casual.

His words could have meant “I’ll send you to hell so you can ask him yourself,” but his demeanor hadn’t seemed right for that.

Pandemonium had broken out shortly afterward, but Rachel had seen the boy—once. She’d assumed he was a corpse at the time—he’d been lashed to the underside of a car earlier—but a gunslinger and a woman in a red dress had been holding him when they fell off the train.

She’d reached out in an attempt to save them—and, thanks to an assist from the red monster, she’d at least managed to keep from losing them.

But what had happened to the gunslinger and the others afterward?

Even if they had been pulled back up, they’d been dashed against the ground once, and they could easily have been seriously injured.

That doubt had stayed with her, and so she’d made up her mind and checked with the president of the information brokerage.

The boy’s corpse had been covered up by the corporation as well.

She’d already braced herself for the bad news, but from behind his stacks of documents, the president had responded nonchalantly:

You could just go ask him yourself, in person.

A few hours later…

Here she was, standing in front of Alveare.

Still… I can’t picture the president joking about a child’s death…

With no idea what was going on, for now, Rachel walked into the shop.

When she told the tough proprietress to let her “inside,” the woman had warned her, I haven’t seen you here before… There are a lot of nasty customers in there, so remember to keep your head, and had shown her through the door into the speakeasy.

Then, once she was inside, she’d seen the place in its entirety.

This place is huge.

The splendor of the speakeasy’s interior was impossible to imagine from the way the place looked from the street, and Rachel nearly gulped in spite of herself. However, she managed to play it cool somehow and began searching for an empty seat.

As the proprietress had said, lots of the customers were obviously on the wrong side of the law.

There was an old Asian fellow whose powerful frame rocked as he laughed.

A man with sharp eyes that made him very hard to approach.

A man who was muttering to himself with an unsettling smile on his face.

A middle-aged man with a large scar on his neck who seemed like a veteran fighter.

A dignified man, getting on in years, who was adding a generous amount of pepper to his food.

From the smiling, bespectacled young man who initially seemed out of place, to the beanpole-and-roly-poly duo who were obviously gangsters—

Something about mixture of races and occupations here reminded her of the dining car on the Flying Pussyfoot.

There was even a young child near the empty seat she finally found.

Wondering what a kid like that would be ordering at a speakeasy, Rachel peeked over into that seat—

And made eye contact with the boy.

“Huh…?”

In that instant, Rachel’s heart froze.

She looked stunned, and the boy she was staring at seemed bewildered himself.

“? What’s the matter, lady?” he asked.

He spoke like a child…but she remembered his voice.

His scream, specifically.

This was the voice she’d heard screaming as his body was ground away.

“How…?”

The word had slipped out of her involuntarily, and the boy gave her a dubious expression.

“? Wh-what, huh? Is there something on my face?”

“On that train… I could’ve sworn you died…”

“!”

In response to Rachel’s words, the boy’s expression underwent a conspicuous change.

“Um, ’scuse me, Ennis, I’m going to go take a short walk!”

Speaking to the young woman who’d been sitting across from him, the boy stood up, leaving the honeyed juice he’d been drinking on the table, and started hurrying out of the speakeasy.

Rachel followed him, leaving through the shop she’d just entered from. There was a risk they’d think she had no intention of buying anything to begin with, or maybe they would panic that she was an agent on an investigation, but at this point, she wasn’t capable of rational judgments.

“Oho? What’ve we got here?”

“Hey, c’mon, that kid ain’t on the market.”

As they headed outside together, a boy of only ten or so and a young woman probably about a decade his senior, light heckling followed them out of the speakeasy.

“What, did that little wannabe grownup get himself a girl already?”

“Talk about a smooth operator.”

The skinny guy and the fat guy tossed crude remarks after them, but Rachel didn’t hear.

He’s alive.

She’d been sure the boy had lost half his body, but he didn’t have a single scar on him. It was as if nothing had happened.

It can’t be.

Common sense was like a wall inside her turning back the reality in front of her.

That’s not possible.

Maybe he’d had a twin brother.

Of course. This one was probably being pressured by Nebula, coerced into covering up the situation.

Privately reaching that conclusion, Rachel forced her heart to calm down as she walked out, but—

In an alley right next to the shop, the boy checked to make sure no one was nearby, then spoke to her.

“You saw me die, didn’t you, Miss?”

“…”

“Was it when I got shot in the head? Or when I got held against the tracks?”

The boy’s remarks brought Rachel’s expectations crashing down.

She was completely out of options, and she forgot what she’d planned to say.

The boy looked up at her with patently suspicious eyes. Then he broke the silence by introducing himself.

“…I’m Thomas. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, um, I’m Rachel…”

She’d easily responded with her own name, and for some reason, the boy seemed more relieved than she would have expected. When he looked at her again, the wariness was finally gone from his eyes.

“I see… So you’re not an immortal. That’s a relief. Did you find me by coincidence?”

“No, uh… The president of the Daily Days told me to go there…”

There were all sorts of things she wanted to ask this boy, but the shock of learning that he was alive kept the words in her throat, and she ended up being the one to answer questions.

She regretted carelessly mentioning the Daily Days, but as it turned out, it provided a shot in the arm to the conversation.

“…Oh, the information brokerage… So if I lie to you here, you’ll find out the truth. I won’t lie, then. My real name is Czeslaw Meyer. You can call me Czes.”

“Huh?”

The boy had given a completely different name as his real one. She was confused; why had he lied earlier?

She stayed frozen, still not sure how to answer. Czes exhaled deeply, then began to speak, slowly.

“…If you’re that surprised, I suppose I should start by explaining the immortals, correct?”

“Im…mortals?”

“It’s fine. It was a relief to find out you weren’t one, so I’ll answer any questions you have.”

The boy’s smile was the sort of expression he might have worn when playing a prank.

…Yet, something about it seemed rather mature to her.

The thirty minutes that Czes spent talking became an indelible memory for Rachel.

The wintery cold had grown sharper, but her excitement kept the chill at bay.

Everything he said about himself sounded like a tall tale, and yet the fact of his existence proved it was real.

When he clawed at his own arm, and she saw the scraped skin regenerate instantly, she wondering if she was actually dreaming after all.

The incident on the Flying Pussyfoot had nearly turned her whole world inside out, and this time, the inversion was clear and unshakable.

Immortality.

Merely admitting its existence completely recolored her understanding of the world.

…Even though the world itself hadn’t changed one bit.

“…That should do for now, don’t you think, Miss Rachel?”

It was an innocent child’s voice, but it did feel as if there was a mature personality hiding behind it.

“Y-yes… I’m grateful for…your help.”

“It’s fine. Oh, and feel free to talk to me like I’m a child, all right? I may be older, but it feels strange otherwise.”

“O-okay. Thanks, Czes.”

A single piece of information just turned my world inside out.

At the same time, in that moment, she’d gotten a definite sense of the power information held.

Before now, as a gofer for the information broker, she’d collected all sorts of news, but this piece held power that far surpassed all of it.

Information can change the world. It can change human destinies.

Revolting as he was, Henry had been right about that.

Is the world brimming over with information like this?

“Really, Czes, thank you.”

“Huh?”

“I think…I’ve figured out something about my life, thanks to you.”

“? I don’t know how I helped, but…good for you.”

I’ll become an information broker.

I won’t be a gofer the way I have been. I want to be in charge of more information, like the president or vice president.

If she knew the right “information,” she might be able to keep other people from meeting a fate like her father’s.

She hadn’t yet decided how she’d use the information she’d acquired or what sort of broker she’d become—but the intel she obtained later on would probably determine that.

Once I get back to the paper, I’ll ask the president.

How could she become a broker like them?

How could she become a full employee of the DD newspaper?

This was probably the first truly important information she’d acquired, and so—

—in the midst of the cold, wintery dusk, her eyes shone brightly.

It was almost as if a new world had opened up before her.

If things had ended there, the day would have been a happy one for Rachel and Czes, but—

At least for Czes, the day did not end pleasantly.

“Heya.”

As Rachel and Czes emerged from the alley, a voice greeted them casually.

“?” “?”

As questions rose in both their minds, the young man spoke to them in a friendly way.

“Man, oh man, talk about a coincidence. I stopped by to see my old pal Firo, but they tell me he took a couple friends and went to the casino. I don’t wanna get in his way when he’s with guests, so I was on my way home, and look who I ran into. What are you two doing? When did you become buddies?”

“Huh?”

Is he a journalist for the DD newspaper?

No wait, that voice… I’ve heard it somewhere…

“…Who are you, mister?” Czes asked.

Neither he nor Rachel could place him, and they watched him dubiously. They wondered if it might be some new kind of scam, but the voice really did seem familiar somehow.

“Who am I…? Ouch. Sure, I changed my clothes, and I’m not covered in other fellas’ blood, but…”

Still wearing a light and breezy smile, the man said something truly ominous.

“Wouldn’t you normally remember the voice of a guy who tried to kill you?”

“Wha…?”

Rachel couldn’t shake an ever-growing sense of wrongness, attempting to pry the lid off her memories.

However, she got the feeling that this was one lid she shouldn’t open.

As she was hesitating over whether to remember or not, the man dropped another airy comment about wanton violence.

“Oh, yeah, relax. The train got in safely, and I’ll give you a break and quit killing you constantly. And you, Miss Stowaway. I hear you bought proper tickets after that. Good going. You finally did what everyone else does when they want to ride a train.”

Those words stirred up certainty and fear inside both Czes and Rachel.

Rachel’s was a memory of the fear she’d felt back then—but the tremendous terror that surfaced inside Czes was still in progress.

“Ah…ah…no… Noooo…AaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAaaugh!”

Screaming as if he was trying to negate everything inside him, Czes fled into the alley with incredible speed. His legs were as powerful as an animal’s, and despite his immortality, biological instinct had taken over.

The “predator” who’d made him remember those instincts murmured, looking a little disgruntled.

“I just told him to relax…”

Don’t ask the impossible.

Retorting, but only in the privacy of her own head, she examined the young man.

The creature who’d planted indelible terror in her heart during the train incident—

The conductor.

The image of his uniform, dyed red, surfaced in her mind.

But right now, he was dressed normally, and he seemed like an ordinary young man who was simply walking around town. He didn’t seem like he was holding down a regular job, but there was nothing particularly abnormal about him, either. He seemed to be a casual and carefree young man.

With a smile that didn’t betray a particle of his earlier brutality, the blithe young man in question tossed a casual invitation Rachel’s way.

“Well, since we’re here, want to go grab something to eat at that speakeasy over there? I was just thinking about asking a woman for advice, especially one I already know.”

When Rachel walked back into the speakeasy, she could feel the stares of the people around her.

“H-hey, Czes came back all grown up!”

“What kinda trick is that?! Did he use a twin and make a break for it?!”

The fact that she’d brought the conductor back in Czes’s place sent a mild commotion through the speakeasy. Nonetheless, it didn’t take them long to realize that the guy was a completely different person, at which point they gradually went back to their own topics and stopped paying attention to them.

For the moment, the pair looked around for an empty table, then sat down opposite each other and ordered their meals without giving it much thought.

“Um… And your name was…?”

“Oh, it was Claire Stanfield, but now, I go by Felix Walken. It’s a long story.”

“Huh…”

She was curious about what had made him change his name, but since he’d said he had something he wanted to talk about, she couldn’t bring herself to pursue the issue.

To be fair, she couldn’t imagine that asking would have gotten her a decent answer anyway…

“I don’t know if you already know or not, but I’m Rachel. It’s good to meet you. So… What did you want advice on?”

Keeping her introduction brief, Rachel promptly broached the main subject. She thought it would be faster to listen to what the guy had to say rather than to fumble around trying to learn about him.

“Well, there’s this doll I like, and I want to let her know that. What do you think is the best way to go about it? Oh, and it’s not you, Rachel, don’t worry.”

“…Maybe to start, you should do something about that insensitivity of yours. Although I’m still glad to hear it,” she responded frankly, rather put off by his bluntness.

That said, her own life had been very unlike that of an “ordinary girl.” How well would she be able to answer this question? The thought made her slightly tense.

Well, it’s not as if he’ll kill me the moment I give him a bad answer. At least…I don’t think…he will…

There was still far too much she didn’t know about the man in front of her.

She didn’t intend to open up to him, but she was also careful not to get on his bad side by being overly wary. Little by little, she got into the details of his request.

“…So this girl. You’ve actually met?”

“Yeah, I met her for the first time on that train. We weren’t together long, and we split up, but…she left me this letter. Yeah, I’ve got the whole thing memorized, word for word: ‘I’ll be waiting in Manhattan. I’ll wait for you forever. Please, please look for me. I’ll look for you as well.’”

“Huh. I can’t say this all makes sense to me, but it sounds like you’ve got a decent shot with her.”

Had he just wanted to brag about his love life?

Despite her suspicions, she encouraged the “monster” to go on with his story.

“Well, the thing is, I don’t actually know if she’s trying to kill me, or if she wants to see me because she likes me.”

“…Huh?”

What was this guy saying?

Apparently she’d signed up to give advice for a pretty sticky issue.

Thoughts like those filled her mind for a while, but then she remembered that common sense hadn’t carried any weight with this man in the first place, and she moved the conversation along in spite of her conflicted feelings.

“…W-well, all right. If she is planning to kill you, what are you going to do? Are you going to kill her?”

This didn’t seem like a conversation to have in a public place, but when she checked around them, every table was talking about things like “So when I ripped his XX off…” and “Why don’t you just snuff them?” and “Go on, rub him out” and “But offing ’em would be a pain in the ass”…so Rachel decided not to worry about it.

The conductor answered with the same leisurely calm as before.

“Mm, nah. It was on the list of options at first, but even if she’s planning on killing me, I wouldn’t exactly assume that means she doesn’t love me, so…”

“…I have no idea what you want me to say here.”

“Well, hang on a second. She might love me so much she wants to kill me, or then there’s the I really do like him, but I’m killing him for the sake of something more important routine. That’s possible.”

“Personally, that sounds too complicated for me.”

It was a perfectly natural criticism, but the conductor ducked it easily.

“Really? It wouldn’t bother me much… Well, whatever. Frankly, up till now, whenever I fell for somebody, I’d propose immediately, and if she turned me down, I’d move right along and talk to the next doll.”

“Talk about a completely hopeless pattern… Couldn’t you just do that this time, then?” she’d answered almost carelessly.

At that point, for the first time, the conductor’s pace faltered.

“Erm… That’s the thing. I thought so too at first, but…whenever I see the letter she left, or remember her fighting that white suit to the death, or think about that expressionless, wordless face of hers…I guess you could say I like her more and more. Come to think of it, maybe when I first said I’d help her… That might not have been sympathy. It might have been a fated, love-at-first-sight thing.”

The man looked away, muttering at length to himself. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw his cheeks flush a little.

“…Just now, it crossed my mind for the first time that you might be human. Although I’m not sure about the fighting to the death part…”

She didn’t think a normal person would say this sort of thing to someone they’d only run into twice, but from the things he’d done on the train and during the few minutes of their conversation, she understood that this guy wasn’t normal, so she didn’t let it bother her.

“What, you didn’t think of me as human before now? Well, that’s not important. Frankly, I’m confused, too.”

The conductor looked even more human then, and Rachel almost felt a little goodwill toward him as a fellow human being—but his next words extinguished it instantly.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll work out. It may take time, but I know it’ll work out. If she says she doesn’t think anything of me now, I’ll get her to love me. Even if it takes years.”

In the future, that mind-set would inevitably have gotten him labeled a stalker. Yet, there was no trace of clingy desperation in the conductor’s words, and despite her exasperation with him, she decided to give him a few pieces of advice.

I’m starting to feel bad for the girl this guy says he’s fallen for.

She had to at least teach him a humane approach.

From what he’d told her, the object of his affections wasn’t exactly normal herself, but she couldn’t possibly be as far removed from humanity as this guy was. Making that call, Rachel moved the conversation along.

“So you’ll start by searching for this girl?”

“No, actually, I already know where she is.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah… I heard it from one of your information brokers.”

Ah, I see. The information’s solid, then.

She didn’t know which staff member he’d heard it from, but if a DD newspaper employee had answered him as an information broker, they were sure to have done their homework. In that sense, Rachel was happy that the intel she’d brought in was being transmitted properly.

“I see… In that case, your initial attempt will be pretty important.”

Ordinarily, it would be better to write or call her on the telephone, make an appointment, and then meet her, but it wasn’t clear whether the girl liked him or had it in for him. Rachel got the feeling that even if the girl showed up at the rendezvous spot with a tommy gun, this guy would probably just give her wave and a hello. Still, if she could, she wanted to avoid contributing to a lethal conflict.

Since I decided I’m going to become an information broker, I’ll have to be able to field requests like this one easily…

She might not have had the distinction between dealing in information and a request for everyday advice down yet, but Rachel was gradually beginning to think seriously.

An ordinary love consultation would have been one thing, but to all appearances, this guy was nowhere near ordinary.

On top of that, she could guess that the girl was going to be tricky to deal with as well.

“Let’s see… If you want to suss out her feelings, why not send her a present with your letter?”

She was grasping at straws, but when he heard her suggestion, the conductor thought for a little, then began nodding as if she’d convinced him.

“I see. A present, huh?”

“Right, a gift that’s just right for her. If she accepts it and it makes her happy, that probably means she wants to meet you on good terms, you know?”

“I see.”

Relieved that the guy seemed satisfied, Rachel told him the rest of what she’d been thinking.

“If she wants to kill you, she might throw it away or have some other more subtle reaction. That said, you obviously shouldn’t spy on her in her room, so…maybe it should be something you can see her wearing around town, an accessory or something like that.”

“Oho… Hey, you’re smart.”

The answer hadn’t struck her as a particularly bright one, but the idea that this superman had complimented her gave her a complicated mixture of happiness and futility.

“Hmm… She looks like she’s got about all the knives she needs…”

“…I won’t ask too many questions about your sweetheart.”

The complicated emotion vanished immediately, and in its place, a cloud of tiresome questions flooded her mind.

“You sure? She’s a pretty little thing. Knives and military duds would probably look great on her…”

“I don’t really see what those have to do with each other, but…if she’s that unusual, why not give her clothes that are more like what an ordinary girl would wear?”

It wasn’t only this guy; the object of his affections was also pretty detached from the real world. That much seemed patently clear.

That said, considering the guy’s personality, he might say that military uniforms and knives would make the perfect gift for anyone from five-year-old tots to ninety-year-old grandmothers, but she deliberately decided not to consider that possibility.

“Okay, got it! A present! Right!”

After he’d heard her out, the conductor stood, pulling on the coat that he’d hung on the back of his chair, and flashed Rachel a bright smile and a thumbs-up. “That was a big help. As thanks, I’ll pick up the check for this.”

“No need for chivalry.”

“No, no. These things should be done right.” The guy threw out his chest proudly. “Hey, waitress! Send our bill to Firo!”

“Uh, what? Isn’t Firo your friend from before…?”

“Well, I dunno when he’ll be back here, see? Now he’ll come find me later to get his money back, right? It’ll save me some trouble.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will…”

Rachel didn’t feel quite satisfied, but she decided that if he’d been able to stay friends with a guy like this for years, this Firo person must also be some kind of weirdo, and she sighed. “…Maybe I really should have been more thorough about teaching him common sense.”

A few minutes later…

Well, most girls would probably be put off if someone sent them clothes out of the blue.

Still, any girl who’d go out with him probably shouldn’t get flustered over things like that…

After the guy had gone, she polished off the rest of the meal, then quietly left the speakeasy.

As she was walking out the door, a mixed group entered.

“Dammit… What a lousy dealer. Why couldn’t he at least drop the ball when the stakes were low?”

From behind the muttering voice, a lively voice rang out.

“Boy did I ever rake it in today! I put all my coins on lucky number seven, and it actually came up!”

“Isaac, you’re amazing!”

“Okay, we’re celebrating today! We’ll eat every dish in the place. All of us together!”

“Yaaaay! Isaac, you’re such a big spender!”

“Heh-heh-heh… Even if it’s a dish you can’t finish off by yourself, if there are three of you, you’ll have the wisdom of Mouri… In other words, when you can’t clean your plate on your own, if you divvy it up among everybody, it makes you smarter! I dunno who Mouri is, but the name sort of sounds like Moses, so I bet he’s somebody great.”

“Yes, the weak dine, the strong survive!”

“That’s right, I’m pretty sure it was a story about three brothers who were great pals: Mouri wasn’t able to part the waters by himself, but when he and his two brothers chopped at them together, they split.”

“Yes, the miracle of familial love!”

It made very little sense, but the man and woman’s innocent conversation warmed the atmosphere of the shop around them.

“Yeah… If you can, drop all that money here, wouldja? Cut down on our losses a little…”

She’d seen that couple somewhere before, and the guy in front of them—who was wearing a pale green suit and muttering to himself—was still young enough to pass for a boy.

From the looks of him, he didn’t appear to be a respectable citizen, but he’d walked into the place with a couple who appeared to be nothing else.

And—there was a child hiding behind that couple.

It was Czes, the immortal boy who’d fled from the conductor a short while earlier.

When he spotted Rachel outside the speakeasy, he glanced around, then asked her a fearful question.

“Th-that guy… He’s gone?”

When she nodded, he drew a breath of deep relief, then smiled.

Watching him, Rachel also gave a rather relieved smile herself.

“Ha-ha… Even if you are immortal, you’re no different from a human. You get happy, you get scared… I thought you’d be above all that somehow.”

“…Hmph. It’s nothing that great. See you around.”

Czes’s smile promptly vanished, and he turned away, rapidly disappearing into the speakeasy on the heels of the couple and the baby face.

As she watched him go, looking very human, Rachel murmured to herself.

“Still… The girl that monster has taken a shine to… I wonder what she’s like.”

“Huh? A bill for me? What’s that about?”

After Rachel had gone, the young man in the pale green suit started shouting inside Alveare.

“Felix Walken…? Wha—? Who the hell is that?!”

A few days later    Millionaires’ Row, Eve Genoard’s second residence

“…”

In a mansion with a dazzlingly elegant interior, Chané stood frozen.

“What’s the matter, Chané? I heard you got a package a minute ago.”

Jacuzzi, who had been released from the hospital miraculously quickly, spoke to the petrified Chané. He was still using crutches, and he could only walk a little at a time, but for a guy who’d snuck out of the hospital while he was still in recovery, he was doing very well.

Through Fang and Jon’s connections, Jacuzzi’s group had gotten permission to stay in this mansion as housekeepers. Chané had moved in with them, and they’d gradually grown accustomed to her peculiarities.

She never spoke, so her silence now was nothing strange, but the stiff way she was standing had struck him as unusual. He’d called to her, concerned. Yet…

Nice was there, too, and she leaned in to see the contents of the package. “Oh, wow… Those clothes! What a lovely white dress!”

The dress that was spread out in front of Chané was a simple, elegant thing, the type a sheltered girl from a distinguished family might have worn.

“Is this what was in that parcel?! How wonderful… Who on earth is it from?”

“Wow. That’s really something. I bet it’ll look really good on you, Chané.”

As Jacuzzi spoke, he glanced casually at the sender’s name, which was written on the package, and—

“Huh…?”

The moment he saw it, just like Chané, Jacuzzi froze up.

The Rail Tracer.

It was the legend they’d encountered on the Flying Pussyfoot.

A red-stained monster who had melted into the dawn, leaving many mysteries behind.

“Wh-what…does that mean?”

While Jacuzzi was petrified by the name, which had come completely out of left field, Chané’s heart was also sinking into a vortex of self-directed questions.

What is he trying to do?

Clothes…? No one except Father has ever given me anything like this before.

When I was small, Father often had clothes made for me, and they made me very happy.

But what should I feel about getting clothes from that man?

He may prove an obstacle to my father, and I’ll have to kill him.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

Why would that man give me a present?

What could possibly be in it for him?

I understand him even less now.

Don’t dwell on it. He’s an obstacle to Father’s plan. I have to think about killing him and nothing else.

An obstacle to Father…?

No, that’s not right. He said he’d protect Father.

He said he’d marry me so he could.

…Marriage.

Marriage wasn’t something that interested me, but I do know what it is.

It’s a ritual. A man and woman who need each other consolidate their relationship by becoming “family.”

Family.

Would it be like my relationship with Father, then?

But what meaning could it have for him?

I don’t understand what he was thinking when he said a thing like that.

But if I accept him…he’ll probably protect Father.

The things he said to me…didn’t seem to be lies. That’s why I’m so confused.

In that case…should I take him up on his proposal?

I’m the one who’s afraid. I’m the one who wants to kill that man.

What am I afraid of?

No, no, I shouldn’t use Father as an excuse to justify my own fear!

What a fool I am.

What was that man thinking when he proposed marriage to someone this foolish?

I could never support someone else the way Father supports me.

Why would he send me a thing like—?

?

Abruptly, Chané realized that a small crowd had formed around her.

“?!”

Jacuzzi’s friends were holding the dress, comparing its dimensions with Chané’s figure and murmuring to each other with expectant eyes.

“Whoa… So who’s this Rail Tracer fella?”

“Wow! I bet this’ll look real good on her!”

“I dunno. I think it would look better on my little sister.”

“You ain’t got no little sister.”

“I mean my future little sister.” “Get yourself a girlfriend first.” “Little sisters before girlfriends!” “Why exactly?!”

“Ah-ha-ha, Miss Chané, you’ve been gazing at that dress for a solid 136 seconds, you know.”

“It’s the bee’s knees, Chané! The cat’s meow!”

“Hya-haah!”

“Hya-haw.”

When did this happen?!

She was stunned.

She’d known Jacuzzi and Nice were here—they’d spoken to her, after all—but to think this many people had entered the room…

Most of her attention had been focused on her doubts about “that man,” but no matter how she thought about it… No matter how she thought about it, this wasn’t right.

In the past, with the Lemures, she never would have let her guard down that way even in her deepest contemplations.

And yet she’d let people like these, who hadn’t even been trained to avoid detection, get this close to her. Why?

She’d only been out of active combat for a little while, and yet she was already this soft?

The idea that her senses had dulled made her anxious, but there was another possibility that she was careful not to consider.

This doesn’t mean I’ve accepted them, does it? No!

She was still protecting her solitary world—she could not allow this to happen.

She was frankly dismayed, and she silently berated herself for her lack of experience.

Oblivious to her situation, the good-natured delinquents geared up to inflict yet another trial on her.

“Say, Chané! Hurry up and try that on!”

Huh?

“Yeah, we’ll step outside while you slip into it.”

No, that isn’t the problem…

“Hang on— As her friends, don’t we have a duty to watch her change?”

“Hold the phone. I heard a swell idea just now.”

“Pardon? One more time.”

“As her friends, don’t we have a duty to watch her…?”

“…Gentlemen, I believe this calls for an explosion.”

“Stop it, Nice. Don’t take a bomb out of your shirt while you’re smiling like that. Seriously, stop it.”

“Maaan! I missed seeing her take that out!” “What devastating regret…!” “From her shirt… Uh, where exactly?!”

“……”

“Stop it, Nice. Don’t take out matches while you’re smiling like that. Seriously, quit.”

“Well, let’s leave these lunkheads and head out for a walk!”

What are they saying?

“We’ll go discover our new selves!”

I don’t want to discover a new self.

“Okay, then hurry up and shuck off what you’re wearing now.”

Just be quiet. I’ll never wear a thing like this.

Not because it’s a present from that man.

I can’t fight in… Um…?

Mid-thought, she took another glance at the dress and realized that it didn’t actually seem any harder to fight in than what she currently had on.

What surprised her even more was that on the back of the dress there were fittings that seemed meant to hold something in place.

At first glance, they appeared to be embroidery, but it didn’t take Chané long to figure out what they were.

Are they there to hold knives?

The realization that the dress had definitely been made specifically for her pushed her into further confusion.

As questions continued to surface in her mind, the surrounding delinquents spoke up from behind her, plunging the confused girl to the bottom of the abyss.

“G’on, just put it on.”

“Damn, I can feel a nosebleed coming on from picturing it.”

“That nosebleed’s been in progress for twenty-three seconds already.”

“Actually, who is that?! Is the guy who sent this her fella?! She has a fella?!”

“Hya-haah.”

And then Chané—

Millionaires’ Row Inside a certain private car

“Hey, Mr. Graham? Somebody just came out.”

“…Is that right? Let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a boring story. Ahh, ahh… Boredom is a sin. We don’t spend the limited time we’ve been given lazing around or drowning in pleasure; instead, we squander it by simply existing… I can’t take this! Boredom is a sin! Die! Die, boredom!”

“Good luck with killing a concept… Oh, hang on, look… There’s one doll who doesn’t fit with the rest of ’em. I bet that’s her.”

At his subordinate’s words, Graham slowly sat up from where he’d been lying in the backseat.

“Whoa…,” his follower continued. “She’s a real cute little kitten… And she’s dressed like a rich doll, too. She has to be the one.”

“Think of stretches of boredom as coffee breaks. They exist so that you can hit the high points of life in peak condition… Damn, one look at a beautiful dame like her and I’m writing proverbs.”

“Proverbs…? Anyway, you do think she’s actually Eve Genoard?”

Although Graham’s delinquent friend had just declared that she had to be the one, he urged Graham to check— In the unlikely event that he was wrong, he did not want a wrench to clock him.

Graham cracked his neck and grinned. “I’d like to posit that if she ain’t the one, the mistake will add spice to our lives. After all, there’s not a single boring thing in this world.”

“You said something completely different a minute ago, boss. You okay? Your head okay?”

“Shaft…ever since you passed out that one time, you’ve been fearless.”

Looking at his outspoken buddy, Graham wondered dubiously whether this was really the same guy he’d nearly killed a few days back. If this was how it was going to be, maybe he actually should have cracked his skull open then.

Whether or not he knew what Graham was thinking, Shaft responded in a weary manner, “The sadness of encountering my impending death inspired my growth… Huh? I think they’re going for a walk. Several of them started off together.”

“I see. In that case, let’s tell a sad story.

“…For them, that is.”

On the broad avenue of Millionaires’ Row, the denizens of the neighborhood normally averted their eyes from delinquents like Jacuzzi’s gang, but today, their attention was focused on the group.

After all, a beautiful girl as refreshing as a clear wind was walking right at the center of them.

White skin. Glossy black hair. Golden eyes.

Even in her usual black dress, she turned heads, but the dress she was wearing today enhanced her beauty even more, making her the target of both adoring and envious looks from all passersby.

However, Chané was completely oblivious to her own charms, and she’d decided that the attention on her was solely due to her wearing something that didn’t suit her.

I actually put it on.

She hadn’t been able to completely dismiss the pushy urging from the friends around her, and in the end, Chané had changed into the dress that man had given her.

Why is it, no matter what I do, they throw me off-balance?

Jacuzzi and the other delinquents were a type of gang that Chané hadn’t encountered before.

They weren’t like her father. They also weren’t like the Lemures or like the police, their enemy.

The way she’d lived had been far from ordinary, and she’d never met people like them before.

It was true that they were delinquents.

They engaged in some illegal activities—they even attempted train robberies.

Strangely, though, she couldn’t sense anything shady about them. Sordid jealousy, animosity, and the cunning to kick others down for the sake of personal ambition had been perfectly ordinary within the ranks of the Lemures, but she hadn’t noticed anything of the sort here. But everyone had those feelings, didn’t they?

She didn’t know why that was the case. She didn’t even know whether the absence of those feelings was good.

Regardless of the answer, she was assailed over and over by the sense that something inside her was wavering.

If this kept up, would she break?

The world that belonged to her and her father alone, one that held only happiness—would it break?

As Chané considered this, she’d gradually grown afraid, and she’d even considered fleeing to some faraway location. Ever since her father had been sent to Alcatraz, she’d thought of turning herself in to the police, confessing all her own crimes, and getting herself sent there as well.

Do they even lock up women in Alcatraz?

As she walked through town, consumed by anxiety, she realized that a car was driving toward her.

Instantly growing wary, she sharpened her senses, scanning the air around her.

The car’s approach was oddly slow, and her instincts alerted her to danger.

Why couldn’t I do this earlier?

A thought that didn’t matter at all flickered through her mind, but she snuffed it out promptly, focusing on the car in front of her.

As she glared at it, her eyes were clearly guarded, but the car drove straight ahead and came to a stop on the shoulder of the road a little ahead of Chané’s group.

“Huh? What’s up?”

The delinquents seemed to have picked up on the unsettling tension as well. The handful who were walking with Chané glanced at the suspicious car.

As they watched, its shiny black door opened.

The man who emerged looked more like the guy who’d built the car than the one who owned it.

He was dressed in bright-blue coveralls, and the enormous wrench he held was as long as a human arm.

When they saw his approach and the blotches of a dark-red substance along the silver object that dangled from his hand, the delinquents immediately reacted with anxiety.

As the man sauntered over, his wrench slung over one shoulder, he began to speak like an automaton.

“A sad story… Let’s get started on a sad story.”

“…!”

The man’s behavior was clearly abnormal, and the delinquents exchanged confused expressions.

For her part, Chané picked up on something incredibly dangerous about him.

His tone and attitude were casual, but he was watching them with eyes that were fully alert.

He looks like…him.

As she realized he reminded her of the man she’d fought to the death just the other day, her caution spiked.

Like the man on top of the train… That killer in the white suit!

Even though an attack from him wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, the man kept walking toward Chané—

And then he tossed another incongruous remark in her direction.

“It’s a story that’s fit to make your heart burst with sadness…but, well, I’m having fun, so don’t worry about that.”

A few minutes later

“Jacuzzi! Jacuzzi!” shouted one of Jacuzzi’s friends who’d returned short of breath and grabbed him by the collar.

“Wha…? Wh-wh-what happened?! What’s got you all worked up?!”

“Never mind, just listen! It’s real bad! Chané… Chané got snatched!”

“Huh?! Wh-what do you mean?! B-by the police?!”

Jacuzzi was imagining the worst-case scenario—that Chané had been arrested—but the answer he got back actually topped it.

“You think a cop would be walking around with an adjustable wrench?! It’s him! The boss of the local gang of hoods—that punk Graham!”

“What?! Wh-what do you mean?!”

“Dammit… I don’t even know what he did to us! He swung that wrench around, and then somehow we were all on the ground… The next thing I knew, they had Chané in the car already… And the bastard left this letter!”

Explaining the situation tersely, the delinquent shoved a piece of paper at Jacuzzi.

The words on it, which were written in an orderly hand, simultaneously clarified both what the kidnapper wanted and what they needed to do.

Dear Jacuzzi Splot: We have Eve Genoard. If you want her back safely, bring all the money you can pull together to the abandoned factory on Lot 13 at the port. Come alone, of course.

That was all of it.

Clearly the abductor had mistaken Chané for the owner of the mansion where they were living.

He probably wouldn’t believe that, though. Not only that, but he knew Jacuzzi’s name. He probably knew the group couldn’t run to the cops.

What would happen if he didn’t bring the money? This wrench guy must have felt it was obvious enough that he didn’t need to spell it out, and the blood drained from Jacuzzi’s face.

Nice tensed. “What are we going to do, Jacuzzi?!”

Even though he was trembling like a leaf, the tattooed boy spoke without hesitation. “What do you mean? I’m going, obviously! …I mean, I have to, don’t I?!”

His determined yell echoed briefly.

He tottered back to lean against the wall, gripping the threatening letter in his hand weakly, crumpling it.

“…I-I-I’m scared silly, but still, I gotta…”

While Jacuzzi was panicking, another man was attempting to calmly judge the situation.

He had watched Chané’s abduction play out from a crowded corner on Millionaires’ Row. Now, the man pressed his fingers to his temples and began talking to himself.

“So that dress I sent her… She was wearing it. I never dreamed she’d put it on this quickly… Aww, I’m over the moon, but…”

For a guy who was talking to himself, he was speaking far too affectedly. However, he did have some questions, and he’d been worrying about what he should do next. He didn’t often worry.

“Who was the guy in blue who got out of the car? Should I go after them?”

The mystery man who’d emerged from the vehicle had carried off the object of his affections.

Since they weren’t actually going out yet, any normal man would probably have been torn between hesitating in fear and screwing up his courage to run to her aid.

But he wasn’t normal.

The enormous wrench hadn’t scared him, and if he’d wanted to save her, he might have been able to catch up to that car on foot.

He understood Chané to a certain extent—possibly even better than the Lemures had. For that very reason, he’d noticed what she was doing, and it had made him hesitate to pursue them.

“Why did Chané let them take her away so easily?”