Baccano! - Volume 14 - Chapter Pr1

Smile and Malice

December 30, 1931 Chicago Union Station

As a blustering, cold wind howled across the station platform, an imposing train sat proudly on the tracks as if to protect the passengers.

This was the Flying Pussyfoot.

As far as trains went, it was a definite oddity.

Its basic build was modeled on England’s Royal Train. The interiors of the first-class compartments were all embellished with marble, and the second-class compartments were designed to match.

On regular trains, each car was divided into sections ranging from first through third class. As a rule, the third-class compartments were located above the wheels, where the vibrations were strongest.

However, this train’s basic structure diverged from that standard.

Its cars were split among first, second, and third: Immediately behind the engine came three first-class cars, then a single dining car, three second-class cars, one third-class car, three freight cars, and one car that housed a spare freight room and the conductors’ room.

Because of unpleasantries like smoke, first-class cars were generally located near the end of the train. However, this particular train turned that common practice on its head.

With the exception of the dining car, all the cars had a corridor on the left side in relation to the direction of travel, and passengers entered each compartment after checking the number on its door. Three cars with oversize freight rooms also had a corridor on the left.

It was an ostentatious nouveau riche train, one that prioritized form over function. The drab third-class compartments, which had been made almost as an afterthought, instilled a vaguely unpleasant feeling of inferiority in their passengers.

The sides of the cars were ornamented with flattened relief sculptures that further underscored the train’s affluent leanings.

This train’s biggest feature was that it was independent from the railway company’s regular operations. It “borrowed the rails” from the railway company, and it could have been called a modern-day Royal Train.

Certainly, in this era of economic depression, the only ones able to ride a train this grand were individuals who could ignore the financial circumstances around them—the modern analogues of royals or aristocrats.

On December 30, 1931, a tragedy would unfold on board this luxury train…

Some passengers would hardly be mentioned later.

One of them took the place of a lucky couple and stepped into the tragedy.

Smiling and smiling…

“Now, wait a minute. Even if we turn around and go home, they won’t give us a refund for those tickets.”

“Better than losing our lives, isn’t it?”

An elderly couple who seemed to be well over fifty were walking quickly in front of the train.

The old woman was hurrying from the station without looking back, almost fleeing from it, while her husband followed close behind and tried to keep her from leaving.

“I admit your instincts have never been wrong. But still…”

They had originally been planning to travel to New York on the Flying Pussyfoot. But just before they boarded, the wife had said, “On second thought, we should stay.”

“Something bad is going to happen on this train. I can feel it.”

Her instincts had always been preternaturally sharp, but simply taking that statement on faith required a little courage.

That was how expensive the tickets for this train had been.

“Erm, but…”

“If it’s about the money, don’t you worry. I’ll pay out as much as you like from my nest egg.”

“N-no, it’s not about money or anything! It’s just…”

While the old couple was arguing—

—a man stepped in to block their way.

“Excuse me.”

“…Yes?”

The elderly couple gazed dubiously at the young man.

He was a very average-looking person of medium height and build.

His smile was striking, and although there was no telling what he was happy about, his expression softened in an approachable way as he spoke to the couple.

“I overheard you earlier… If you don’t mind, I’ll buy both those tickets from you.”

“Huh…?”

“Well, it sounds as if you don’t want to waste the cost of the tickets, sir, and you don’t want to ride this train, ma’am. Meanwhile, I’d like to ride, but the tickets were all sold out… You see? This will solve all our problems, won’t it?”

“…”

His smile was sincere and held absolutely no ill will.

Yet the elderly woman found that very lack of malice especially eerie.

“I think it’s a terrific plan that will leave all of us smiling!”

“W-well, but this train is…”

Now that they had the opportunity to sell their tickets to a stranger, his wife’s statement that something bad was going to happen on the train concerned the husband. That said, he wasn’t sure whether or not to tell this person about the situation. While he hesitated, his wife turned to the young man and explained for him.

“You may not believe me, but…I have a terribly bad feeling about this train. There may be an accident or some other dreadful tragedy. If you don’t mind risking that, then…”

Her remark sounded like superstitious nonsense, and the young man responded with a mildly surprised “What?!” Then, after a brief silence, he nodded, still smiling. “In that case, please do let me buy them. Absolutely.”

“Huh?”

“After all, if there’s an accident, more people might survive with one more capable body on board.”

It sounded almost as if the young man was implying that an accident wouldn’t affect him, and a strange feeling came over the old woman, but—

Seeming embarrassed by her gaze, the young man spoke to her.

“You may not believe me, but…the thing is, I’m not human.”

Meanwhile Outside Chicago Union Station

The man stood.

And that was all he was doing.

When seen from behind, he lacked any other characteristic one could use to describe him.

Like air or light, he blended into the cityscape without seeming the slightest bit out of place.

It was as if he’d always existed at that spot since the creation of Chicago, or maybe of the nation of America, or perhaps even of the planet Earth.

A short distance away from the stationary figure, a white man and a brown-skinned woman were talking in an automobile.

“…I won’t take the train after all.”

“Oh, are you sure? But you splurged and bought a second-class ticket… There’s no telling if you’ll ever get another chance to ride the Flying Pussyfoot, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I see…”

The black-haired man was solemn, and as his companion murmured to him, she smiled voluptuously.

Possibly because he’d remembered he had better plans, the man had abruptly declared that he was canceling his train journey.

“—Yeah—sorry—so—setta—”

“—Jacques—too—ful—just—”

The couple’s conversation turned into fragmented snatches that the wind caught and carried away into the hustle and bustle of the town.

When he heard that piecemeal conversation, the man who had been an unobtrusive part of the scenery began to move.

“A second-class compartment… Hmm?”

He was moving, yes, but it might have been more accurate to say that he “began to creep.”

The man who’d completely melted into the background began walking toward the station with a thick, dark aura around him. His steps were natural to an unnatural degree, and he didn’t leave a trace of his presence behind.

Like a crow gliding through darkness without letting himself draw attention, the man moved on quietly.

However, there was one striking thing about his face: His bangs rested barely above his nose, hiding his eyes from view.

For an ordinary person, that would have been an extremely noticeable feature, and yet the fact that he didn’t let others see his eyes seemed to erase any impression he might have made.

Skillfully blending his sticky, mud-like aura into the air around him, the man began to walk with a certain goal in mind.

Unnoticed by most, a lone man slipped onto the train.

…His malice was not grand, but like a bottomless swamp.