Baccano! - Volume 17 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

THE SMILES OF THOSE IN LOVE

Niki had been searching for a place to die.

She didn’t have a family name; she was just Niki. It sounded like a kitten’s name. She wasn’t terribly attached to it. She didn’t think names were all that important to begin with.

That being the case, she felt she didn’t need a grave after she died. Even if someone put a headstone up for her, she didn’t care to have anything written on it. Her name wasn’t the only thing that didn’t matter to her—she had no interest in what happened after she died. It was safe to say that the only reason she was living was to find a place where she could die feeling satisfied.

If she died the moment she found it, she’d have no regrets. In fact, she felt a constant guilt over the fact that she was alive.

Many of the other enslaved children with her had died, while she had been lucky enough to survive.

The sensation that she alone was enjoying good fortune remained firmly in her heart, like a wedge. If she hadn’t met Elmer and his friends, that wedge would have shattered her long ago, rapidly driving her toward death.

She owed a great debt to Elmer, and it was safe to say he’d dramatically changed her life.

But although Elmer was the one who’d given her a reason to live—

—the one who’d given Niki hope was not Elmer or the Mask Makers, but someone else.

You’re looking for a place to die? That isn’t something you seek out. You arrive there naturally, after you’ve lived out your life. I imagine whether you are able to smile then or not depends on the nature of that life.

Niki would have wandered aimlessly if a young alchemist hadn’t said those words to her and kept her at the Meyer family studio. He had simply shown kindness to her, a failure of a slave and a total stranger.

She had been employed to take care of Czes, and he treated her just as he treated his other companions.

Lebreau Fermet Viralesque.

At first, Niki had thought his name was overly fanciful. However, as they worked in the Meyer household together, she realized it suited him: He was a truly clever, fulfilled human being.

As an alchemist, he managed the studio. Apparently, he was well acquainted with nearly all the research that was conducted there, and he was effectively the person in charge.

At the same time, he had a thorough knowledge of economics and culture, a fact which had remained unchanged after his arrival in Lotto Valentino, and with his sociable personality, he brought a sense of fresh air into the Meyer household.

He also spread the studio’s technologies among the nobles and merchants, serving as the studio’s central pillar in place of the family’s young head. He was a genius, a man who could do anything, and friendly besides.

Not only that, but he was kind even to people who were only passing through, like her.

Why did he treat her no differently from anyone else, when her background was a mystery? When Niki had asked him about it directly, Fermet had given her a troubled smile.

I’m just clumsy, that’s all. I’m not so clever with people that I can adjust my responses to match the ranks or pasts of others. I like what I like, and I hate what I hate. That’s the only decision I can make.

As Niki watched that young man over several years, she realized what he’d said was probably true. He probably did love the world. He was her polar opposite.

It was actually strange that they existed in such close proximity.

The thought reminded her of Elmer—but Elmer had only cared for smiles. Unlike him, this man accepted the world as it was, good and evil together; he was a different breed.

And—that was around the time she realized it.

Every time the young man called her Niki, it soothed her heart, just a little.

And for the first time, she began to be very conscious of names.

The people of Lotto Valentino had bought her as a slave and called her Niki. To her, it had only been a symbol used to tell her apart from other people.

Meeting the Mask Makers and Elmer’s group had added a slightly different nuance to it, but she hadn’t been able to identify it, nor had she tried to.

However, over several years, as Fermet, Czes, Begg, and the others in the studio called her name, Niki had come to like hearing it. She began to think about why that was, and finally, she found the answer.

When they called her name, it reminded her that she was a necessary part of the studio’s community. That feeling made her terribly happy.

Such a thing would have been unthinkable while she was forced to work as a slave in Lotto Valentino. Back then, she would have preferred to be unneeded and neglected, to never hear her name.

After that realization, Niki could truly feel that the world around her had changed.

She’d intended to keep those feelings inside herself, but one day, she confessed them to Fermet. Maybe it was a peculiarity of his sociable personality, but he had a natural ability to draw words out of people.

After she’d told him, she apologized. …I’m sorry. I’m sure I’ve bored you.

Fermet had shaken his head slightly, smiling gently. It wasn’t boring at all. Niki, you’re already like family to us. As a matter of fact, I’m glad to hear it—that you’ve accepted that we need you, and that you’re happy about it, I mean.

To Niki, who was looking for a place to die, Fermet’s words were intoxicating.

When you call someone’s name, whether it’s with goodwill or malice, you tether their awareness. And when we called your name, that tether didn’t constrict your world. Since that’s so, please call us by our names as well. I believe the tether will change to a connection that will have a good influence on both of us.

Slowly yet steadily, a sense of sheer bliss stole across her heart, different from the euphoria of the drug she’d made.

From then on, every time she said Fermet’s name, she felt a sort of bashful, ticklish sensation.

When people called her name, she would gain tethers and connections—ever since Fermet had introduced her to the idea, she’d grown oddly conscious of it.

However, she didn’t feel bashful with Czes or Begg. It was an emotion she felt only toward Fermet.

The moment she realized this—Niki was overcome by another, odder ticklishness. She knew what the sensation was, really, but she pretended she didn’t. She hadn’t yet completely shaken free of her past, and there was a little thorn of guilt in her heart. She wasn’t sure someone like her had the right to feel such an emotion.

As she wondered what to do with the feeling, one day, she heard that the Meyer family was moving its studio to Lotto Valentino.

Will it remind you of the past? Fermet had asked, knowing Niki’s history.

She’d smiled wryly. I don’t think I’ll care about it now, but I can’t forgive them for it. I can’t be a good person like you, Fermet.

But Fermet had told her, with utter sincerity, I’m not a good person. Nothing of the sort.

Slowly, he began to tell her about his other face. How he was a spy for House Dormentaire, one of the studio’s financial supporters, and that he sent them reports on the alchemists of Lotto Valentino and the trends in the town.

However, when Niki heard that—she was happy.

Ordinarily, it would have been more beneficial for him to hide that information; he’d had no need to tell Niki.

And yet he had gone out of his way to confess it to her, and that made her happier than anything.

I’ll help you, she had told him soon before they moved.

Fermet had warned her that it was dirty work, work she shouldn’t do, but Niki insisted. It’s no trouble. My younger self would laugh at you for calling a job like that dirty.

Although, she might not have been capable of laughing.

Murmuring self-deprecatingly to herself, Niki stood her ground and tried again, over and over.

She knew more about the town’s underbelly than Fermet did, and the people felt guilty enough toward her that they wouldn’t actively involve themselves with her.

Even so, Fermet had continued to express concern for her, worrying they might “shadow you out of misplaced resentment,” but—

Ultimately, he’d given in, and she’d helped him by serving as a courier to the House of Dormentaire, a public job that was a far cry from spying.

Whenever she completed a job as a courier, Fermet was grateful to her.

Thank you, Niki.

Every time she heard those words, her old wounds healed, little by little.

In the small community of the Meyer studio, she and Fermet shared an additional, exclusive relationship as spies for the Dormentaires.

Each time Fermet called her name, Niki could feel that private connection.

When about half a year had passed since they’d formed that relationship, a vague thought had crossed her mind. It was not a shock like a bolt of lightning or a carefully considered conclusion.

For no particular reason, she simply stopped pretending she didn’t know.

It wasn’t that the guilt had faded. However, she understood that this and that might be two different matters.

She accepted the small feeling that welled up from deep inside her.

That was all it was.

I think I love Fermet.

And so time passed—

The Boroñal mansion

It had been a little over ten days since she’d been dismissed by the House of Avaro and sold to the lord.

To Sylvie Lumiere, those ten days had been time enough to change what she valued in life.

The trigger had been her exile from the Avaro residence and separation from Gretto, of course. She had been afraid that this was the beginning of a life of despair and agony, but her situation had not played out as she anticipated.

A mysterious young man had taken her out of the lord’s mansion and put her in contact with the alchemists of the Meyer clan, and then several unexpected developments had occurred. It seemed as if the world was crumbling around her.

The bombings and arson incidents were still ongoing.

At first, the attacks had only been the bombings, but over the past few days, a variety of arson methods had been used, from shooting flaming arrows onto roofs to setting fires directly. The range of targets was gradually broadening as well.

The first places to burn had been facilities and buildings with close ties to the House of Dormentaire, as well as Dormentaire ships. Now, ten days later, it was safe to call the attacks indiscriminate.

Over the past three days, the town’s countless libraries, its aristocratic mansions, and even a ship with no connection to the House of Dormentaire, had been burned.

That last target had been particularly problematic, and the town was in an uproar over the prospect of foreign interference.

Sylvie wasn’t especially happy that the people around her were in more of a predicament than she was, but their situations did appear to be inversely proportionate; as the town was backed into a corner, Sylvie felt her own world begin to widen.

Is this actually real?

Whenever she woke up, every time, she had to make sure everything that had happened up till the previous day had been reality. That was how novel these ten days had been for her. A new world was opening up before her.

To a bystander, these were no more than events in the same town, and this might have seemed like an exaggeration—but up until now, she’d been like a frog in a covered well, unable to see the sky.

In that case, had emerging from her well and learning of a new world diluted her memories with Gretto? No, she only longed to see him more.

If the recent destruction outside had widened her world, then Gretto had climbed into her world—that narrow well—and had shown her a new world inside it.

Whenever she heard that an aristocrat’s mansion had been burned, she was beside herself with worry that it might have been the Avaro residence.

But every time flames went up, it was always from mansions at a distance from the Avaros’, and she felt deep relief when she heard there were currently no injuries among the aristocrats or their servants.

As long as she knew Gretto was safe, all she had to do was watch for a chance and contact him.

Begg Garrott, the alchemist employed by the House of Avaro, was supposed to make the arrangements for it, but he hadn’t been summoned to the Avaro mansion yet. All she could do was watch Lotto Valentino slowly turn to rubble as she waited.

When it came to waiting, she wasn’t as optimistic as Gretto. He believed something would change in time, but Sylvie’s nature made her worry those changes might be for the worst.

At the very least, however, her fear of the lord’s lechery had been summarily dispelled ten days previously.

The lord in question, Esperanza Boroñal, still ate his meals at the same table as Sylvie and the other female servants, but he didn’t watch them with the eyes of a carnivore watching its prey.

If she’d had to say, he behaved more like a cat sprawled out comfortably, basking in the sunlight of the presence of women. The tranquility of this clownishly dressed nobleman had been the most unexpected thing Sylvie had encountered in the past ten days.

The Boroñal mansion was slightly more old-fashioned than the Avaros’, yet it was more sumptuous than any of the town’s other aristocratic mansions. Inside, many rooms were linked to one another in straight lines, which made for a disorienting view if you looked through all the doors from one end of the long hallways.

The great dining room was particularly spacious. As Sylvie sat down at the enormous table, she took another look around her. All sorts of dishes were arrayed in front of her, and the servants and the lord ate the same dinner together.

I really was thinking something awfully rude, wasn’t I?

From the rumors, she’d imagined Esperanza was the type of man who terrorized women and treated them as objects. When Elmer had introduced her to him, she hadn’t been able to hide her confusion.

As a matter of fact, his female-supremacist doctrine was abnormally extreme, but for that reason, he never did anything a woman might object to, and he treated even a new servant like Sylvie with the utmost courtesy.

Whether or not the head of the House of Avaro had known what Esperanza was actually like, he’d used him in order to make Gretto abandon his love affair with a maid. Apparently, Lord Avaro had said he was forced to dismiss a maid and asked Esperanza to take her in; the lord didn’t know anything about the situation behind the move.

If I tell him about the circumstances, he might make some arrangement with the Avaros.

She’d embraced that hope on her first night there. But for her, it was out of the question to tell a lord, I’m in love with the younger son of my previous employer, and he loves me as well. I don’t want to work here, so please send me back there.

She just couldn’t bring herself to say it, and Elmer had advised her not to. “Oh, I don’t think I’d tell Speran about that. If he found out the truth, he might fly into a rage and challenge Mister Avaro to a duel. And that could create some real trouble for Gretto.”

…And so she’d decided against it at the last minute.

Still, I don’t like just waiting… I’m worried, Gretto.

Caught between these complicated feelings, Sylvie went on with her meal. And while her heart was still in shadow, the brilliantly sunny voice of a young man reached her ears.

“Hello there, Speran. Another terrific smile today.”

Elmer poked his head into the dining hall, and Esperanza’s face clouded over the instant he heard the young man’s voice.

“And now it’s gone, thanks to you. If you wish to see me smile, don’t force me to look at a man’s face.”

“Ah-ha-ha. There, there. I’ll see if alchemy can be used to change me into a woman. You’d like me more then, wouldn’t you, Speran?”

“What a bizarre thing to… But if all of mankind became women, that would be heaven, wouldn’t it…?” the lord muttered to himself thoughtfully, while Elmer calmly stated his business.

“You say that quite a lot, don’t you? By the way, how about it? Did you find Huey?”

“I’d like to ask that myself. In fact, for the sake of thoroughness, I shall. You really haven’t seen him?”

“No, I haven’t seen him, and I haven’t gotten a letter or message, either. I’m not lying.”

“I see… Then I believe you.” Esperanza frowned. Then his eyes flew open in sudden realization, and he turned to Sylvie.

“Ah. There is one thing I must tell you, Miss Sylvie. This Elmer fellow is an incorrigible liar, but when he tells you he isn’t lying, you may consider what he says to be the truth. Nothing he says is of any importance, and yet he is honest about the strangest things.”

Esperanza’s peculiar habit of speaking to men and women in entirely different ways was something she’d gotten used to over the past ten days. Sylvie said only, “Is that right? I see. Thank you,” then did her best not to get in the way of the pair’s conversation.

Whether or not he’d noticed her attempt to be tactful, Elmer went on talking to Esperanza, who was still turned toward Sylvie.

“More importantly, Speran. There’s something I’d like to ask about, too. Was it really Huey you ran into ten days back? There’s no possibility that it could have been somebody else in disguise, or Huey’s twin brother? You’ve never met him in person, so it could have been a sibling of his who had the same hair and eye color.”

“Does he have siblings?”

“No.”

“Then why ask, you fool…?”

Esperanza scowled and hauled Elmer up by his collar, one-handed.

“There, there, Your Excellency.”

“The things Elmer says are never logical, you know.”

As the serving women scolded him, giggling, Esperanza nodded with dignity.

“They’re absolutely right. You’re a fortunate fellow, Elmer. Be grateful to them that you’ll survive the day.”

In response to the lord’s alarming words, Elmer smiled brightly at the women.

“Oh, good! Because of you, I get to live longer! Thank you!”

He really does seem to enjoy life, Sylvie thought, watching Elmer.

True, his constant positivity made it hard to tell what he was thinking, and it was even unsettling.

Still, she admired his cheerfulness and optimism.

Yes. I’ll smile. If I see Gretto again, we’ll smile together, and smile, and smile…

And then… What should we do?

We can’t just wait like this.

We have to do something about it.

She knew they were being pressed to make a decision.

She also knew that waiting the way Gretto did wasn’t one of their options.

However, she didn’t deny Gretto. After all, she believed that his passive stance was both a flaw and a virtue.

Gretto can wait; that’s all right.

I just need to go grab his arm.

She really was timid, and her position wasn’t a strong one, either. But she was far from weak.

As she went on with her meal, Sylvie kept thinking.

It wouldn’t be possible for her and Gretto to act on their feelings while everyone else was happy and unscathed.

In that case, who should she prepare to make an enemy of?

She kept thinking.

Quietly, secretly—like a panther sharpening its claws in the darkness and choosing its prey.

She was unaware that she would be turning her fangs on a man she hadn’t yet met.

The Third Library, Lotto Valentino

“Let me ask you again. You truly have no idea who the culprit might be?”

Carla had come alone, without any bodyguards.

Maiza’s face was grave. “I don’t. If I knew, I’d either have told you long before this, or I’d be persuading them to stop.”

The two of them were standing and talking near the entrance of the library, and they were clearly not two acquaintances having a friendly chat.

Carla suspected that this incident was the alchemists’ doing, and that it was deeply connected to the Mask Makers’ disturbance the previous year.

Her suspicions had immediately turned on the Third Library, which was the town’s largest workshop and a school for alchemists, but the previous ten days hadn’t yielded any clues to speak of.

Even though she persisted in suspecting his alchemy studio, Maiza never looked obviously cross as he spoke with her. After all, he himself had guessed that more than a few alchemists were involved in the incident.

“I understand that you doubt us, Carla. But we intend to help you in any way we can in order to end this violence.”

“There’s no need to be so considerate. I told you as much a year ago; the alchemists aren’t the only enemies of the House of Dormentaire. It is everyone in this town, including you,” she said sternly. She shrugged a little, possibly remembering what she’d said back then. “Although I may have been exaggerating when I said we would erase you from the map in a year.”

“No, the Lotto Valentino I know no longer exists.”

“…I see. Then you must hate us.”

He had plenty of motives for attacking Dormentaire-related facilities—that was what Carla seemed to be implying, but Maiza gave a small smile and shook his head.

“At the very least, there’s no hatred on my part. I didn’t like the town to begin with, and I did think someone needed to break it. The control of the Dormentaires might be preferable… But I didn’t want the town burned to the ground this way.” Maiza sighed, looking around the library. “I studied alchemy because I thought it might give me clues about how to save the town. Yet…the more I learned, the more I came to think that saving it was a hopeless endeavor. That the thought of saving it was arrogant.”

“I hear this town was originally built for alchemists. I expect it was a twisted place to begin with. There’s no need for you to take it to heart. If you’re going to curse anything, curse your luck in being born here.”

Maiza widened his eyes slightly at her unexpected sympathy. “I thought I was under suspicion as well.”

“You are an enemy, but only because you belong to Lotto Valentino. If I ignore that, my experience tells me that you are a man worth trusting.”

“You give me too much credit. I can’t contribute anything to the town where I was born and raised.”

“And that’s why you’re running?”

Maiza had an idea about why she might have said something so abrupt, and he turned back to face her. “What do you mean, ‘running’?”

“I hear you’ll be leaving town soon.”

“…You knew?”

“It’s only a rumor. They say several alchemists are going to America on a new ship.” Without waiting for Maiza to respond, Carla went on impassively. “I should warn you…the alchemists are primary suspects. I cannot allow that ship to leave port. Even if the count permits it, the House of Dormentaire will probably do everything it can to keep the ship from sailing.” Turning away from Maiza, she added, “You should fervently pray that the criminal is apprehended before your departure.”

As the Dormentaire envoy, she had changed Lotto Valentino.

Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have had to worry about that, but privately, she felt she owed him.

“If we ever meet outside this town…in America, I’ll buy you a drink.”

A tavern in Lotto Valentino

As a port town, Lotto Valentino was home to multiple taverns where sailors congregated.

These had been exclusively reserved by the House of Dormentaire for the past year, but now the proprietors were worried about being targeted by the bomber, and Carla had given instructions that they were to use civilian facilities as little as possible until the criminal was caught. At the moment, there were no Dormentaire personnel to be seen.

…With the exception of Victor Talbot, a Dormentaire alchemist, who was drinking at a second-floor table.

“I’m an Englishman, and I’ve heard a company called the South Sea Company is going to be formed this year, or maybe it already has. Anyway, a company is being created to sell off slaves from Africa, and no one is stopping it. Frankly, I think the whole thing is bloody ridiculous.”

While it was true that Victor was the only Dormentaire affiliate here, he wasn’t drinking alone.

Denkurou, Zank, and Nile were all at his table, and from the composition of this group alone, it was hard to tell which country this was.

Victor and Denkurou seemed to get along well; after their first meeting ten days ago, they’d met and talked rather frequently.

Most of their conversations consisted of trading information about their respective alchemical specialties, but today, Zank and Nile had been invited to join them in a tavern, so the whole group was there.

Zank had asked Victor why he was working for such an arrogant lot, and Victor, who was a little drunk, had launched into a long story about himself.

“See, I’m an alchemist, even if I’m not much of one, and I wanted to study immortality, homunculi, that sort of thing. So I started researching humans from every angle I could, and ’sfar as I could tell, those slaves were no less flesh and blood than the slave traders.”

“Which should be obvious.” Nile’s expression soured, and Victor smiled back ironically.

“Now you have an awful temper, but that’s got nothing to do with race. Anyway, I saw you couldn’t create a hierarchy based on skin color and language. What matters is a good education and good parenting… So a few years ago, I gave some people an earful, and they didn’t like it.”

“And they ran you out of the country?”

“Well, I’ve got nothing against England itself. Queen Anne is still my queen. But some of the nobs around me were saying we needed slavery. There’s no place for me in that world.”

As Victor smiled self-deprecatingly, Nile’s expression grew fiercer and fiercer. “Give me the names of these ‘nobs.’ I will flay them and hang them from trees.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t encourage them. They’ll just use that talk to make their point. What if they use it against your countrymen?”

“It matters not. I merely wish to do this for myself. I care not how the results may trouble others.”

“For God’s sake, why are you so violent?” Victor scowled.

“My apologies,” said Denkurou. “He is not malicious. He is merely loyal to his own standards.”

“Malicious, no, but certainly selfish.”

“Say what you will.” Nile devoured his meal, still looking sullen.

Victor looked as if he had more to say, but Zank stepped in. “So you left your country, then?”

There was pressure in his voice, and Victor involuntarily looked his way. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, you know.” Giving up on the previous thread of conversation, he went on with his story. “In the end, after I’d left home, the House of Dormentaire picked me up. They’re easy to understand, you see—it doesn’t matter where you’re from. White or black, noble or commoner—if you can make money for the Dormentaires, you can move up in their world. Rumor has it they’ve hand-raised both devil-worshipers and judges for witch hunts.”

Victor’s last comment was unsettling, but Denkurou’s group couldn’t tell whether it was actually true, or really just a rumor. It was likely that even Victor didn’t know.

“I cannot condone the mindset that prioritizes money over all else, either, but…”

Denkurou looked conflicted, but Victor smiled and took a swig from his cup. “That makes two of us. An elephant can grow too fat to walk after a little while. The Dormentaire glory won’t last. Maybe the fall will be year from now, maybe a millennium.”

After he’d made that blunt declaration, Victor’s expression turned a little sad.

“But I do need to repay them for giving me a chance, at least. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“I’m madly in love with a woman.” Victor grinned while Denkurou, Zank and Nile exchanged looks.

“May I surmise from our conversation thus far that she is a servant at the mansion…?” asked Denkurou. “No, that isn’t what it sounded like. She can’t be the aristocrat’s daughter, can she?”

“Ha! She’s old enough to be her own person, not just somebody’s ‘daughter.’ I think she’s in her late twenties now, or maybe her early thirties?”

Remembering the woman, Victor was grinning like a child.

“She’s rich, you see, and she makes no attempt to hide it.”

Thinking about his love, he listed all the worst things about her first.

“She’s quite lovely, both her face and her figure, but she knows exactly how to use them and all her Dormentaire riches. She’ll flirt with anyone who catches her eye, man or woman. She isn’t just unfaithful or capricious—she has her own harem, really.”

Without seeming to care that he was merely one of her many lovers, Victor went on talking about her cheerfully.

“She absolutely has to have everything she wants, whether that’s jewels or money.”

“…And you pledged loyalty to the House of Dormentaire for a woman like that?”

“Well, a man likes what he likes. And she’s not all bad. She’s nothing like the other Dormentaire nobles. She took a peon like me as her lover, and we can speak as friends.”

The implication was that the other nobles of the House of Dormentaire were probably the typical sort who looked down on everyone else. Denkurou couldn’t declare that was a bad thing, but at the very least, he was reminded that it would be best to keep Nile from coming into contact with them.

With that in mind, he responded to Victor diplomatically. “I see. I would have to meet the lady in person before I could form an opinion about her.”

“True. I think you’d be too quiet and boring for her taste.” Victor cackled at his own joke, but he didn’t seem to mean any harm by it.

Denkurou did not take offense, either, and he quietly took another drink of his liquor.

“It’s doubtful whether we will have the opportunity to meet the young lady ourselves at all,” Zank murmured.

Victor smiled again. “Actually, you might meet her.”

“?”

Denkurou and the others looked dubious, and Victor raised his cup, wearing a rather conflicted expression.

“I told her it was too dangerous to come yet. But if she’s already left the continent, there’s no help for it. I’m running her off the second she arrives, but…

“…the beautiful, greedy Lady Dormentaire says she’s coming here, to Lotto Valentino.”

The Boroñal residence The office

“…I see trouble on the horizon,” Esperanza said gloomily.

Elmer’s face lit up. “I thought we had plenty of trouble already, but I suppose it wasn’t as bad as it could get! Well, let’s smile a lot before everything gets worse!”

Ignoring Elmer’s typical antics, Esperanza began speaking with his elbows braced on his work desk.

“Lucrezia de Dormentaire… She’s a young noblewoman among the most powerful members of the House of Dormentaire.”

“Oh? I’ve almost never seen you upset while you’re talking about a woman.”

“Well, if I disregard my own position, nothing could be more welcome than a woman’s arrival in Lotto Valentino. However, she’s related to my position in a rather complicated way.”

Giving a self-deprecating smile, Esperanza asked Elmer a question.

“You know about Maribel’s…Monica Campanella’s connection to the House of Dormentaire, don’t you?”

“Yes, more or less.”

“Exactly what happened back then is a mystery, but at the very least, it’s certain that the House of Dormentaire was involved in her death. And not only her death… Truly, they stole Maribel’s entire life from her.” Esperanza laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, his elbows still on his desk. “Even I have extraordinary feelings regarding the House of Dormentaire,” he said flatly. “If the individual coming here weren’t a woman, I might forget my position. I could not tell you what I would do.”

“But she’s a woman, so you’ll probably be able to accept her with a genuine smile. If it’s you, Speran.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Esperanza retorted bluntly. He put his hands against his lips and thought. “…No, there is a problem, isn’t there? Yes, of course there is.”

“There you go again. When there aren’t any women around, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You turn aggressive, then timid… You’ve left your whole heart in the presence of women, haven’t you?”

“What is wrong with that? …Nothing. Nothing, I suppose.”

“Of course not! If you’re guaranteed to smile in front of women, then I have no complaints whatsoever. That means there won’t be a problem if the Dormentaire lady comes here, either!” Elmer cried happily, spinning around near the door to the office.

Esperanza sighed and turned cold eyes on Elmer. He opened his mouth and shut it several times, attempting to say something, then finally gave up and heaved a deep sigh.

“You really are a… No, I won’t say it.”

“?”

“At any rate. Even if this situation does not trouble you, it is a significant problem for the town. In particular, the House of Dormentaire is the enemy of Ma—of Monica and her life. No doubt certain people will be extremely angry when I don’t do anything to one of their number. I would have liked you to be in that category, but I suppose that was a lapse in judgment.”

“I think you just said something rude about me, but I’ve probably insulted you, too, so I’m sorry.”

As Elmer apologized with a smile, Esperanza gave another heavy sigh. Giving up on Elmer, he brought up the name of a certain man.

“Huey Laforet.”

“Ah, I knew it. The conversation’s going back there.”

Elmer nodded, looking as if he’d seen that coming. The young man had several bats in his belfry, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew where the conversation would lead, and he had just kept saying what he wanted to say anyway. Of course, that part of him was one of the reasons he tended not to fit in.

“I’m not sure about Huey. I think I can imagine what he would have done a year ago, but now that Moni-Moni’s gone, I don’t know what he’ll do. After all, I haven’t even seen him.”

“I expect not.” Esperanza stood and looked out the window at the lights of the town. “If he were using Monica as an excuse to perpetrate these bombings, I would resent him for it. I suppose I would reject everything about him, including his character and his past with her. However, when I actually met him, I sensed that he isn’t…quite what I would call an avenger.”

“But he may be bombing the Dormentaires and the rest of Lotto Valentino— Oh, let’s just assume he is doing it,” Elmer said bluntly.

Esperanza had known him for a long time, and he was aware that even if Huey Laforet had been a Roman emperor or a pleasure-killer like Gilles de Rais, Elmer would have connected with him with no difficulty whatsoever.

To Elmer, it didn’t matter one bit whether Huey Laforet was behind the bombings or not, or even what his motives were. If he did care about motives, there was only one reason for it—he would use it to get the other person to smile, and then do it.

“If Huey said that getting revenge on the Dormentaires would make him smile, I’d gladly help him. No matter what he’s trying to do, I’m on the side of his smile.”

“……”

“Of course, my goal is to make everybody on the planet smile, him included.”

“A hopeless dream.”

He didn’t call him a hypocrite; Esperanza did know Elmer wasn’t seeking smiles out of goodwill or anything like it. He was just true to his own desires.

“If you want to make your wish come true, you will really have to change the world itself. The creation of the philosopher’s stone would be a far shorter and simpler journey, if I may use terms suited to an alchemist such as yourself.”

“If there’s a road to travel on, I’ll be able to get there someday.”

Gazing at his own palms, Elmer said the last few words in a quiet murmur.

“So I’d like to figure out a way to live a long time.”

That same day, late at night Somewhere on the maritime fortress

“Hmm… I suppose it’s about time I took myself to the Third Library.”

Near the edge of the fortress formed from ranks of Dormentaire ships…

…a cabin at the farthest point from land had been filled with various instruments and books, giving the place a very unique atmosphere.

Because even the slightest motion from the waves would affect them, there were no instruments for precision work here, but the facilities were still better than what you’d find in the studios of average alchemists.

In that cabin, Szilard Quates was muttering to himself. In the mere ten days since he’d arrived in this town, he’d issued instructions to the Dormentaire private soldiers and pulled all these facilities together.

I thought this was a provincial town. To think I’d acquire this array of alchemical implements so easily… No wonder they call it a town built for alchemists.

Impressed by the equipment available to him here, Szilard glanced through a document that had been placed on the desk.

The document had arrived in an envelope with the Dormentaire crest, but the strings of letters on it didn’t form words. The lines simply created a strange pattern.

Apparently, it was a coded letter of instruction, and Szilard was skimming through it, without using any chart to help him decipher it.

“…Hmph.” He snorted lightly, then held the document up to the flame of the candle. Red light enveloped the coded letter, and the old man tossed the blazing sheets of paper into the ash receptacle on his work desk.

As he watched the letter of instruction turn to ashes, the old man grinned.

For heaven’s sake. Both the Dormentaire lot and the lot from this town are truly benighted. They genuinely believe this secret elixir of immortality exists…

Szilard was an alchemist, but he was also a firm realist. With regard to the creation of gold, he’d frequently told Victor, “Albertus Magnus offered his misgivings on the subject a full five centuries ago, and my feelings are similar.”

He believed even the creation of gold was impossible, and as far as he was concerned, an elixir of immortality was a delusional fantasy.

The exception was his interest in homunculi, and he’d been conducting an uncommon amount of research into them. If immortality existed, he believed the one road to it would be to transplant your own memories and personality—in other words, your mind itself—into an artificial life-form.

In Ancient Greece, Hippocrates had said that human reason and emotions, or “the spirit,” were based in the workings of the brain, not the heart. However, the idea that the heart dwelled in the brain hadn’t really begun to spread until after the seventeenth century.

In that sense, Szilard was from the generation that had been born right after common sense regarding the brain had been overturned, and building from that foundation, he’d begun to think that spirit transplants might be possible.

But in this era, the mechanism by which bioelectricity was used to transmit nerve signals hadn’t yet been discovered; the idea was no more than an elusive dream.

He had been pursuing cutting-edge research for his time, and yet an elixir of immortality still sounded like a mere fairy tale.

We’ve received word that Dalton, the head of the Third Library, has passed knowledge about the secret elixir of immortality on to a young alchemist named Maiza Avaro. It would not be wise to make an enemy of Dalton. Obtain that method from Maiza.

Maiza Avaro will join other alchemists in boarding a ship called the Advena Avis. He intends to disappear in America along with the know-how. Board the ship with him and learn about the elixir.

In simple terms, those had been the instructions in the coded letter.

They didn’t even tell me to ascertain whether it was true or false. Does the House of Dormentaire intend to grasp all knowledge, including that which may be spurious? I suppose with their prosperity, immortality is the next desire they might have…

Still, immortality from a single draft of an elixir? What a ridiculous notion…

His thoughts were interrupted as a wind blew into the room.

The candle flames wavered violently, and the ashes from the incinerated letter scattered.

“Hmm…”

Realizing the window had been opened, Szilard narrowed his eyes and scanned the room.

When he did, he found a solitary figure in the shadows of a corner.

“You’re…,” the old alchemist muttered, frowning. The man who had appeared before him wore a hooded cloak.

His one distinguishing feature was—a pure white mask, the sort one might wear to a masquerade ball or the carnival in Venice, that covered his entire face.

A few minutes later, hearing a roar, the Dormentaire soldiers and the people who lived around the port saw a sight they would not soon forget.

Near the edge of the maritime fortress, the ship that Szilard Quates had turned into an impromptu workshop was now an inferno of red flames and black smoke.

It was promptly cut free from the neighboring ships, saving the fortress itself from the flames.

Some of the witnesses saw one more thing: a small boat, moving away from the chaos on the fortress.

And inside it, a man who wore a mask.

As soon as he reached land, the masked man vanished into a dark alley. When they saw him, the townspeople were convinced—the Mask Maker had returned.

They were also afraid.

Afraid that the Dormentaires and the Mask Maker might burn their town to ashes.

These were the “ordinary people” who had once worked slaves to death and ruled the town with drugs—

—and they could do nothing but tremble in fear before the flames.

One hour later The Avaro residence

“I knew it. It’s not over. It’s not over yet.”

Gretto’s legs were quaking, and he chewed on his thumbnail, unaware he was doing it.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, talking to himself.

An hour earlier, he’d heard a ruckus in the town and looked out his window. He’d seen a slight red tinge to the night sky in the direction of the port.

By now, the flames had been extinguished, and the night was still again.

Gretto was trembling with the reverberations of the uproar—but it wasn’t from fear that he himself might become involved.

“Good… Good…”

He was trembling with hope. Lotto Valentino, the world he’d always known, was breaking apart.

At first, the aristocrats had intended to stand by and let the situation run its course. They seemed to think that if this was a fight between the Dormentaires and the Mask Makers, then the two factions could just take each other out.

However, when their own mansions came under attack, their attitude changed dramatically. They hadn’t done anything to stop the Dormentaire invasion, so they might be targeted by Mask Maker attacks as well. Thanks to that fear, each of the nobles was hiring their own private soldiers and putting them on guard duty.

But with the exception of the port, Lotto Valentino was a closed city. There were no proper mercenary groups, and the best they could do was give money to the town hoodlums and have them keep an eye on the area.

That meant the security was full of holes.

Invaders could easily get into Gretto’s room, even though he was being kept under house arrest.

A wind blew into the room, and Gretto flinched, shivering.

“…Wh-who’s there?!”

When he turned around, he saw a hazy shape in the light from the window, the only light in the room.

Gretto’s lips were quivering with panic. The phantom wore a hooded cloak and a white mask, glinting in the moonlight.

Thirty minutes later Esperanza’s residence

Sylvie was awakened by a commotion in the corridor.

A strange sense of unease made sure she was wide awake almost immediately. Retrieving her glasses from her bedside table, she pulled on a simple wrap, then opened the door.

When she stepped out into the corridor, the butler, one of the few men who worked at this mansion, was speaking about something with Esperanza. Sylvie also spotted a few maids who’d apparently awakened earlier than she had.

They were all looking out of the windows. Elmer was there with them; when he noticed Sylvie was awake, he came over to her.

“Oh, you’re up. I’m sorry we were noisy.”

“Um, what’s the matter? What on earth is…?” Sylvie asked anxiously.

After a little hesitation, Elmer slowly said, “Stay calm, all right?” Unusually for him, his expression was solemn. “We think Maiza’s house is on fire.”

“…What?!”

As the meaning of the words sank in, her vision went dark for a moment. She felt as if something was squeezing her, particularly her heart.

Her breathing quickened, and her face was pale. Somehow, she managed to get her vocal cords to work.

“Gretto’s…house?”

If she’d looked out the window, she might have been able to see smoke. But Sylvie’s whole body had gone stiff, and she couldn’t even turn her eyes that way, let alone move.

Elmer tried to set her mind at ease. “I’m sure he’s all right. It’s not as if the whole house burned down; it was only a small fire—”

He didn’t manage to finish his sentence.

Sylvie had already broken into a run, heading for the mansion’s front door with worry on her face.

“Ah— Wait!” he called to her, but she didn’t seem to hear. “I’ll go, too! Let me come!” Elmer hastily ran after her.

He wasn’t trying to protect her from danger—once she knew Gretto was safe, the relief might make her smile from the bottom of her heart. He wanted to see that smile, no matter what.

That was his motive for trying to stop her, and for running after her.

Conversely, if Gretto was dead or badly injured, she would be sad, and smiles would become more of a foreign concept to her. He’d have to get her to smile.

At his core, that was the true nature of Elmer C. Albatross.

However, neither of Elmer’s wishes came true.

The police and the House of Avaro’s private soldiers had arrived and blocked the way, so Sylvie wasn’t able to get into the house.

She asked whether Gretto was all right over and over, but the head of the House of Avaro must have issued instructions with regard to her. Nobody would tell her anything, and they ejected her from the mansion without any explanation.

Behind her, Elmer said, “I’m sure Gretto’s all right. I don’t think he’d be happy to see you so sad, you know? You should smile. C’mon, smile, smile.”

Even under these circumstances, he was still talking about smiles. Sylvie glared at him sharply. She even considered slapping him, but he was keeping a step away from her and refused to come any closer.

“…?” Her angry glare took on a hint of confusion, and Elmer explained.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. If I get too close to you, Gretto might see us through a window and think you’re cheating on him with me. That would be awful.”

What a strange thing to be concerned about.

Ordinarily, Sylvie would have thought no more than that, but he was saying this in front of a mansion that was still smoking. He seemed completely unaffected by the whole affair.

It left Sylvie terribly unsettled; the chill she’d felt when she first met him crept up her spine again, several times worse than before.

He wasn’t a bad person, but he was a complete enigma.

That was the impression of Elmer that Sylvie would have for a very long time.

The next day The maritime fortress

“So the damage from last night was old Szilard’s ship and one of the aristocrats’ mansions up on the hill?”

“Yes. We’ve had no reports of other fires.”

It was afternoon in the port, and the sun was already starting its journey down the sky.

The pungent smell of various burned chemicals mingled with the scent of the tide.

The fire in Szilard’s workshop had spread, half destroying the ship, and the vessel had tipped onto its side and flooded. Wisps of smoke were rising from it here and there.

“And no fatalities, I heard?”

Standing on the deck of another ship in the maritime fortress, Victor gazed out over the scene of the incident.

Beside him, Carla said, “Correct. Fortunately, once again, there were no casualties that evening. Szilard and the House of Avaro’s younger son seem to have sustained light burns, but Szilard says he’ll treat his himself, and the boy has gone to an alchemist in town.”

“To an alchemist? Ah. No church hospitals.”

“Yes. Several alchemists here also serve as doctors.”

In medieval Europe, medical treatments such as bloodletting had often been conducted by barbers, but now, after the Renaissance, there were many doctors who specialized exclusively in medicine. Several historic figures had worked as both alchemists and doctors, and apparently, quite a few people studied both medicine and alchemy in Lotto Valentino. When people were injured or sick, the majority were taken to an alchemist’s studio.

“Which studio?”

“It’s the one the Avaros have ties to, the Meyer family’s.”

“…Huh. The Dormentaires send them money, don’t they?”

“They do. The uproar in town has made our spies mostly useless, so we’ve hardly needed much from them lately, but he’s also…” Carla paused to make sure there was no one nearby. “We do give them support, and so they make regular contact. In this town, the Meyer family primarily uses a servant girl as a courier, but…that regular contact includes ordinary meetings as their sponsor.”

“In other words, you can meet right in front of the townsfolk, so long as they don’t overhear what you’re talking about.”

“Once the town was in our hands, the spy became unnecessary. However, now that these Mask Maker attacks are occurring, we need him to investigate the local situation for us again.”

“Yes, I’ve met the people around that spy… I spoke with the young lady as well, and she told me the residents here are all deplorable bastards. I’d rather have gone somewhere more cheery, like Naples.”

He’d heard about Niki’s past both from Carla and from the alchemist who was their spy.

There had always been a rift between the girl and the townspeople that kept her from being a suitable spy. But as an outsider, she worked very well as the courier who made contact with the Dormentaire personnel.

“I agree with you for the most part, but there are some decent people.”

“Ah, the proprietress of the patisserie seemed a decent woman. I’ve also heard there are a few respectable sorts among the nobles and alchemists. Particularly that lord—Esteranzo? Niki was very fond of him. Although the bastards in town don’t seem to like him much.”

From the way Victor spoke of them, Carla could tell that he genuinely hated the townspeople. Recently, he’d been drinking with some visiting foreign alchemists; maybe that was because he wanted to have as little to do with the locals as possible.

As Carla made that guess, Victor’s expression abruptly softened. “Well, they all agree that he’s eccentric. Maybe I should pay him a visit myself.”

“No, that fellow won’t open his heart to anyone who isn’t a woman. Even if you went, Victor, I doubt he’d welcome you.”

“Is that right? Come to think of it, you said something like that before. Are you saying he opened his heart to you?” Victor asked, deflating slightly.

Carla shook her head slightly, smiling wryly. “Don’t tease me, please. But I suppose he did accept both my rank and my manner of dress without any questions at all. Unlike you.”

“…You’ll never forgive me for that, will you? Well, I am sorry for that first meeting, especially after you pinned me down and Lucrezia mocked me for ages afterward. I’ll be happy to forget it soon.”

Saying Lucrezia’s name seemed to have turned his thoughts to her; Victor’s expression softened a bit.

“Once she sees the situation here, I’m sure she’ll be mocking me plenty more,” he murmured, his gaze far out to sea.

There were no eye-catching silhouettes of ships on the horizon, but he seemed to be looking beyond.

“She said she’d arrive today, didn’t she?”

“Yes, a report came by post-horse from the port where they’d anchored previously.”

“Wouldn’t it have been faster for her to come by horse, then?”

Lucrezia de Dormentaire—a noblewoman who was both Victor’s employer and his lover.

She had personally boarded a ship and was coming here to Lotto Valentino. He’d learned as much a few moments before he’d treated Denkurou’s group to their drinks the other day.

He knew she’d been visiting one of her summer villas near this town for the past few months, but he’d never dreamed she’d come in person.

“Damn. So the reports I’ve sent over the past few days all missed her?”

“No, I expect they were given to her at the ports where they anchored along the way.”

“Then maybe she’s coming to see me—I did ask her if she was lonely a few times in my first letter…” Victor grinned, but Carla’s expression was blank as she responded.

“I doubt it. If she was lonely, she’d just invite someone else to her bed. You may be an important alchemist, but frankly, when it comes to Lady Lucrezia’s affections, I think you may be rather low priority.”

“Damn, no mercy…” Victor winced, then went on to disguise his pain. “How is she able to travel with the War of the Spanish Succession raging all around us? The other Dormentaire elite are desperately campaigning.”

“The consensus among the Dormentaires is that once Joseph I passes away and Archduke Charles is crowned emperor, the war is likely to come to an end in a few years’ time. Of course, Lady Lucrezia has always ignored matters of war and diplomacy; it’s likely that the political situation has nothing to do with it.”

“…I suppose that’s true. After all, she took an interest in a town of alchemists when there’s a war on. This place really is eerie. We’re not far from Naples, which is Austrian territory now, but the people here hardly know anything about the war, it seems.”

He probably had a thing or two on his mind. He lowered his voice, talking almost to himself.

“Instead of a nation, Lotto Valentino’s been occupied by the House of Dormentaire, and the Mask Makers or what have you are staging a violent resistance. Plus, most of the townspeople are bastards. I tell you, I despise this damnable place.”

Gazing at the horizon again, Victor let his thoughts run to the ship, which he couldn’t yet see.

“Well, that’s all right. I’ll protect that greedy she-cat once she arrives. Although I plan to tell her to go home as soon as she does.”

“Leave the guarding to us and focus on your own job, if you would,” Carla replied tartly.

Victor shrugged. “Don’t be so cross. We’re both her toys, little mice in the cat’s claws.

“You know she’s toying with the guards on that ship as we speak.”

At sea On board the House of Dormentaire ship

On the way from certain Dormentaire lands to Lotto Valentino…

The glittering ocean was beautiful, if a bit of a tiresome view by now, and a ship with ornamentation that grew particularly gaudy on its bow and stern was sailing over it.

Its banners and sails were marked with an hourglass motif, the Dormentaire crest.

Sailors were bustling about on deck, but the mingled smells of sweat and the tide were masked by another scent that hung over the entire vessel.

Just as Cleopatra was once said to have made her ships smell of roses, this ship was filled with a sweet fragrance reminiscent of peaches. Possibly as an insect deterrent, it was laced with a faint herbal scent.

The ship’s interior was extravagantly decorated as well, so much so that it might have been mistaken for the inside of an aristocratic mansion were it not for the ocean view.

In a room full of splendid, gleaming ornamentation, the sound of a small sneeze echoed.

“Oh dear. I do believe someone’s gossiping about me.”

A noblewoman in a luxurious dress—Lucrezia de Dormentaire—closed her peacock feather fan with a snap. Her dress wasn’t the style that was fashionable in Europe, the sort that combined a hoop skirt and corset. Instead, it was made of rather thin fabric that accentuated the lines of her figure and boldly exposed her legs. The dress was unique to the House of Dormentaire, and there were no plans to distribute the fashion beyond it, so the style didn’t have any particular name. However, the shape was similar to the cheongsam, which would be created a few hundred years later, but with additional ornamentation.

The contours of her figure were dramatic enough that no corset was necessary, and the glimpses of skin through the gaps in the material were as smooth as silk.

She might have been in her midtwenties. She was an alluring woman, though her skin was extremely youthful for her age.

“If memory serves, we’ll arrive shortly, won’t we? It seems to have taken no time at all.” Without waiting for her subordinates to respond, she raised her arms and slowly stretched. “Mmmm. I am looking forward to it, aren’t you? I wonder how dear Carla and Victor are faring as they struggle to cope with the naughty, naughty children who’ve defied the House of Dormentaire.”

Her manner of speech was as sticky as honey, but her guards found it more stimulating than irritating.

The guards and servants in the room were of all ages and genders, even boys who were young enough to count as children.

Lucrezia sat on the cabin’s opulent bed. She seemed to be speaking to the room in general rather than to anyone in particular.

“Of all the reports on Lotto Valentino, the one I liked best was about the toilets.”

“The toilets, madam?”

The servants looked puzzled.

Lucrezia giggled, then explained merrily: “Yes. The town draws a water supply from a lake in the nearby mountains, and it’s even equipped with sewers. The flush toilet facilities are perfect, just like Ancient Rome. I heard you can find them anywhere—the houses of aristocrats and ordinary people, and even public facilities like libraries. Astonishing, isn’t it?”

“Very much so, madam.”

“I hear that in some country—oh, I forget where—the towns smelled absolutely dreadful, and the palace had nothing but chamber pots. And yet this remote port town has such magnificent sewer facilities. I haven’t heard of anything like it since that island, Gro… Oh, I can’t remember the name. The one darling Strassburg’s from. They say he built the facilities over there, so the alchemists who created this town must have worked very hard indeed. How admirable of them…”

Although the subject of toilets was a complete mismatch with the room’s elegant atmosphere, Lucrezia went on and on. One could have said the bold dress that exposed her legs didn’t suit this cabin or her rank as an eminent noblewoman, either, but she couldn’t have cared less.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand such subtleties. She did understand; she simply said what she liked and wore what she wanted without a blush.

It was almost as if she was boasting to those around her that the world should adjust to suit her.

After the talk about toilets, Lucrezia continued speaking on whatever topic struck her fancy, but it didn’t seem to annoy the servants. Was she that good at conversation, or were they so infatuated with her that simply hearing her speak was pleasurable? Only the servants themselves knew.

“It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

The conversation ended when she looked at the clock.

One of the youngest servants replied deferentially. “Yes, madam. It won’t take another hour.”

“I see… I really am looking forward to this. I wonder how sweet Carla and dear Victor will react.”

Her smile was arrogant and yet simple and childlike. It wasn’t condescending, nor was it fawning.

With eyes that seemed to say she was the world itself, she smiled on all of creation. Her affection was as for a lover who was her equal.

Victor was also part of the world she loved.

To her, that was all he was, but for that very reason, one could say she adored her multitude of lovers equally.

The fact that this was permitted was proof she was a member of the House of Dormentaire.

But in Lotto Valentino, the only eyes dazzled by the glory of the Dormentaires might have been her own…

Afternoon The Third Library, Lotto Valentino

“Gretto!” Sylvie screamed, running toward the startled young man who was sitting up in bed.

“Syl…Sylvie? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, thank goodness… I’m so glad you’re safe, Gretto!”

Even before she answered the young man’s question, Sylvie had flung herself into his arms.

The impact knocked her glasses askew, and her tears fell on the youth’s bandages and soaked in.

She’d been thinking of meeting Gretto for nearly half a month, but she’d never expected her wish to come true this way. She wasn’t able to think anymore; she had converted her delight into momentum and clung to him.

Gretto didn’t seem to have been emotionally prepared for this, however, and his expression turned to anguish when she leaped at him.

“Ghk!” he yelped.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry!” Sylvie said, noticing Gretto’s bandages.

At the same time, a different voice spoke from behind her.

“No, no, no, you mustn’t do that. If you touch him, his burns will… Yeek?!”

Partway through her sentence, the woman took a magnificent tumble right into Sylvie.

“Gwaaugh?!” Gretto screamed even louder than he had earlier.

“G-Gretto…! Are you all right?!” Sylvie hastily helped him up, looking back at the woman who’d fallen. She was an adult who wore glasses like Sylvie’s own, and she was holding her forehead and staggering a bit as she got to her feet.

“Ow-ow-ow-ow… I’m very sorry about that.”

“U-um, who are you?” Sylvie asked timidly.

“Hello there! That’s Maestra Renee,” Elmer answered as he walked through the door. “She’s my teacher, and at this library, she’s also the doctor who treats injuries.”

“Elmer…”

Partly because of the incident the day before, Sylvie still felt some distance between herself and Elmer, but that explanation satisfied her for the moment.

The first place she’d run to had been the Meyer residence.

Around noon, Elmer had brought the news that Gretto had been taken to an alchemist with ties to the House of Avaro for treatment, and she’d hastily dashed out of Esperanza’s mansion.

However, Gretto had already left the Meyer residence, and after hearing the story from Begg, she’d rushed here, to the Third Library.

“I’m glad… I’m so glad you’re safe, Gretto…!”

“Me too! Are you hurt, Sylvie? That lord hasn’t done anything to you, has he?!”

“Huh? Oh, no. Actually…”

Thinking it was probably best to clear up Gretto’s misunderstanding about the lord, if only to set his mind at ease, Sylvie slowly began explaining what had happened in the past ten days.

Meanwhile, Elmer spoke to another individual who was near the back of the room.

“Erm…Fermet, isn’t it? Why is Gretto at the Third Library?”

Fermet, who’d been leaning back in the shadows of the room, murmured with a breezy smile. “It’s been a long time, Elmer. In answer to your question, because it had better medical facilities than the Meyer residence. And besides…” He paused to listen to the approaching footsteps outside the infirmary. “Maiza is here as well.”

With excellent timing, the door opened to reveal a breathless Maiza.

“Gretto…”

“Maiza!”

“Are you all right? …Well, from looking at you, your life doesn’t seem to be in any danger.” He smiled with relief—but the smile promptly vanished as he started questioning his brother. “What on earth happened? Was the culprit a Mask Maker?” Maiza’s sharp eyes narrowed even further, and his expression was tense.

Gretto gave a small nod, then began to relate the incident in detail. “Someone wearing a mask came into my room all of a sudden… He threw something at the wall. I think it was made of pottery or something; the second it broke, fire suddenly blazed up from it…”

“Dammit… Blast that Mask Maker. What in the world is he after?”

“He hasn’t shown himself before, yet now it’s as if he wants to be noticed. Do you suppose he intends to accomplish something by it?” Elmer asked.

Fermet spoke next. “The culprit behind this incident may not be the one who’s perpetrating the serial bombings, you know. Perhaps someone with a grudge against Gretto is trying to pin the blame on the Mask Makers.”

“It’s possible, but… I am speaking as his brother, of course, but Gretto isn’t the type to make enemies of such dangerous characters.” Maiza sounded completely confident, and Gretto also rushed to protest.

“No… I don’t remember making an enemy of anybody!”

“My apologies. I meant no offense. But you could be a saint, Gretto, and a criminal might still have twisted, misplaced resentment against you.”

Maiza nodded. “That’s true.” Anger blazed in his eyes, something that had become unusual for him since he began studying alchemy.

“Damn him… He won’t get away with this.”

“Whoever did this to Gretto, he will pay for it!” Sylvie’s voice was firm, equally unusual for her. The look in her eyes seemed to say that when she found the criminal, she would give him burns that were the same as—or worse than—Gretto’s.

However, Gretto quietly shook his head and tried to dissuade the two of them. “It’s all right. To be honest, I’d like to thank him. He let me see Sylvie…and being brought here, to this library, may have given me a chance.”

“? What are you saying, Gretto?” Maiza frowned.

Gretto asked him a question, a determined look in his eyes. “Maiza… You’re leaving town, aren’t you? You’re taking the ship that’s arriving in port today, the Advena Avis.”

“!” Maiza was startled, and Fermet bowed his head.

“I’m terribly sorry. I had no idea you hadn’t yet talked it over with your family…”

“…I see. No, it’s nothing you need to apologize for, Fermet. I’m to blame for keeping quiet about it.”

As they watched Maiza apologize to Fermet, Elmer and Sylvie only stared; they had no idea what this was about.

Meanwhile, Gretto spoke to his brother insistently. “I have many questions—why you didn’t say anything, whether you were planning to say after this, why you’re leaving town at all—but I won’t ask you any of them, Maiza. I only…”

Pausing for a moment, he looked at Sylvie.

The sight of her face seemed to help him find his resolve. He clenched his fists and went on.

“I only have a favor to ask in exchange.”

“A favor?”

In the next moment…Gretto summoned all the courage he had from the depths of his heart after spending so long waiting for change.

“I want you…to bring me. And Sylvie. Take us with you on that ship!”

The library’s special reference room

“None of them have changed.”

Even though it was daytime, a lantern flickered in the gloomy special reference room, where Dalton was seated at his desk listening to his guest. The young man who had come to visit him did not look up from the book in his hands as he spoke.

“Especially Elmer. He hasn’t changed a bit, and I doubt he ever will.”

“That is true of him, yes… And what about you? Have you changed a little, over this past year?”

“My view of the world has certainly changed, but I leave the decision of whether I myself have to you, Maestro Dalton.” As he paged through his book, the young man, Huey Laforet, smiled thinly. “A person may not need a year to change,” he impassively told his former teacher. “It only takes a moment to discard everything you’ve ever been.”

“Not everyone would.”

“No. Humans are endlessly diverse, from the iron-willed ones who choose to hold on to their former selves, to those who are simply too weak to throw it away. Ultimately, the true essence of human good and evil is probably relatively superficial. Just individual differences, nothing more.”

“You speak as if you are not one yourself,” said Dalton.

Huey closed the book and turned to face his teacher for the first time. “A human can only speak of others as their own eyes see them. If you deliberately add yourself to the results of your observations, those results couldn’t possibly be accurate.”

“What answer are you seeking? I hear you told Esperanza that you were looking for Monica.”

“I meant exactly what I said. I only want to fulfill my promise to her and make my modest wish come true. Even if I have to sacrifice the whole world to do it.”

“I see. I hope you find her.”

As if Dalton had picked up on the intent that lay behind Huey’s odd reply, he didn’t press him further. He didn’t try to criticize him or have him arrested; he simply replied with an equal lack of emotion.

“So what brings you here? I doubt you’d go out of your way to pay your respects to me when you haven’t even gone to see Elmer.”

“Yes, there were a few things I wanted to confirm.”

Before he could say any more, the door to the reference room opened.

Renee, who had gone to check on the situation in the infirmary, had returned. “Oh, Dalton, listen to this! Maiza and Gretto have started arguing something awful. I had to leave because I felt I didn’t belong… Huh? Wait, is that you, Huey?! When did you come back?! You surprised me!”

The alchemist was walking toward him, eyes wide.

Still smiling softly—Huey slashed her hand with a small knife he’d concealed in his right palm.

“Huh? ……? …Oh, ouch!! Wh-what are you doing, Huey?! Are you rebelling against your teacher?! Have you reached that age?! Oh, that hurt! Your teacher is very upset!”

Despite her complaints, she didn’t sound like someone who had just been cut. As he watched their exchange, Dalton gave a little sigh. Huey was looking at Renee’s blood on the floor.

After a few seconds, the drops on the floorboards slid toward Renee’s feet, then under her skirt. Red lines appeared and disappeared on her clothes as they crawled up her leg and made their way straight toward her wound.

At last, when all the blood had been drawn back into the wound, the wound itself vanished as though it had never been there at all.

The sight was nothing anyone would expect to see in the realm of common sense, but Huey didn’t seem particularly agitated. Putting the knife away, he apologized to Renee, who was still pouting and protesting.

“I beg your pardon, Maestra Renee. To make this up to you, I’ll be your guinea pig or anything you like sometime in the future.”

“Huh? Do you mean it? Oh, thank you very much! Let’s see, what experiment should I have you help me with…? Umm, give me a little time to decide, all right?!”

“Yes, take as long as you need. I’ll wait.” Aside from the act that had directly preceded it, nothing seemed strange about the conversation. Turning back to Dalton, Huey apologized to him as well. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.”

“Couldn’t you have cut me instead of Renee?”

“I’d intended to, Maestro Dalton, but you never gave me a chance to.”

It wasn’t clear how much of that remark had been serious, but as Huey went on, his smile didn’t slip at all.

“Now that we understand each other, there’s a favor I’d like to ask you.”

“What is it?”

He’d just seen a wound repair itself and blood return to the body, a sight that went against natural law. Even so, the young man’s face was tranquil, and his quiet smile actually seemed rather cold.

Still wearing that smile, his gaze went to a certain register that lay on Dalton’s desk.

“The Advena Avis.”

“……”

Dalton was silent, although he appeared to know what Huey was getting at. Without the slightest hesitation, Huey made a presumptuous request.

“I’d like you to add my name to that passenger list.”

Evening The port, Lotto Valentino

“There, you can see it now; that’s the ship. Gah, it’s still practically on the horizon, and I can smell peaches already.”

“She’s sailing without an escort ship. Will she be all right?”

“That ship is special. She’s one of a kind, built for speed, so no escort ship or enemy vessel could catch up to her. The other reason could be because this is a secret voyage, although that sweet smell defeats the purpose.”

As the sweet scent tickled his nostrils in the salt wind, Victor grinned and flung his arms wide.

He was obviously enjoying himself, and Denkurou, Zank, and Nile each expressed their thoughts on the subject.

“Hmm. You seem pleased, Victor.”

“For goodness’ sake. You might as well be a young boy.”

“Let me just say this: If this woman is not satisfactory, I will hurl you into the ocean.”

Victor had been nodding along cheerfully while Denkurou and Zank were speaking, but when Nile offered his opinion, Victor hastily grabbed his shoulders.

“Oi, oi, why would you say that? What did you come here for?!”

“I am merely a little curious regarding what sort of monkey the leader of the odious Dormentaire scum might be. If she would take you as a lover, her taste in men must be poor indeed.”

“You and I are going to have to settle this someday…” Victor’s eye was twitching, but Nile grinned fearlessly back.

“Oho. If you are suggesting that we let our fists speak for us, I would not be averse. Although I do not believe your slender arms could create an impact strong enough to affect my eardrums.”

“I saw you fight those bodyguards on the day we first met. If that was you at your best, then I’ve got a chance at winning.”

“Let me just say this: Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ll make it so you can’t,” Victor said, falling into a semblance of a boxing stance.

Seeing him, Denkurou and Zank murmured to each other.

(“Hmm… He is not demanding gratitude from Nile for having assisted him at their first meeting. He really is a decent fellow.”)

(“Doubtless Nile does not wish to feel that he ought to be grateful for having his fight halted. That may explain why he is so belligerent with Victor, and why he persists in trying to ignore the debt he owes him.”)

Unaware of what the two were whispering about in Japanese, Victor and Nile inched closer to each other.

Denkurou and Zank made no move to intervene, apparently believing there was no need to stop them.

As the people around them were sure a fight was about to begin—

—out of the corners of their eyes, the pair saw a bright flash.

The evening sun was sinking into the western sea, but different, smaller light was growing in the area between the horizon and the port.

A sense of foreboding made all the hair on Victor’s body stand on end. He turned around, the muscles from his neck to his back taut and trembling.

At almost the same moment, a few seconds after the flash, a noise shook the port.

An explosion.

It was a sound he’d become far too familiar with over the past two weeks. And the same view he’d seen in town was unfolding over the ocean.

A ship was rapidly going up in flames—the very one Victor had been cheerfully telling Denkurou’s group about mere moments before, the one that had sent the fragrance of peaches to them on the sea wind: the House of Dormentaire’s private vessel.

“……Uh?”

At first, Victor didn’t understand what had happened.

A second later, he did understand, but his heart wouldn’t accept the knowledge.

A second after that—Victor launched himself into a sprint with the force of a carnivore hunting its prey and leaped onto the deck of a small ship that was tied up nearby.

The crew was watching the explosion, stunned.

“Get this ship out there!” he barked at them.

This wasn’t a Dormentaire ship; it seemed to be some merchant’s trading vessel. Even under these circumstances, he’d instantly picked out the ship that looked as if it would be able to leave port the fastest and jumped aboard with no thought for the consequences.

The sailors were unsure how to react, but then Victor drew his gun. “Hurry, just sail us over there!” he shouted, half begging and half threatening. “Please, get this ship underway! We can still—”

He looked back out to sea.

As he did, a second explosion broke the ship into pieces, sending smoke and flames across the water.

“ ”

He couldn’t even scream.

The same was true for the other Dormentaire personnel at the port. Carla, who had been hastily trying to get one of the Dormentaire ships underway, dropped to her knees on the deck as the color drained from her face.

The calamity was all too sudden.

Everyone had known the state the town was in. Once their mistress reached port, the Dormentaires had planned to protect her from every sort of attack. Carla had even anticipated an attack from the port and had watched every ship with the eyes of a hawk, refusing to let any of them set sail until Lucrezia’s vessel arrived.

Once the ship was a little closer, they’d been planning to send a few of their vessels out to act as an escort and guard against artillery fire from shore—but the explosion had happened at the worst possible time, just before they were ready.

They hadn’t anticipated hostile action while the ship was so far from shore, and there had been no ships nearby. They had let their guard down completely—and the explosion had caught them entirely unawares.

Had it been an accident aboard the ship or an intentional attack? They had no way of knowing, and panic swept over the port. But most of the witnesses did understand one thing:

An explosion like that probably hadn’t left any survivors.

While most people were despairing over that reality—Zank was straining his eyes to see.

“Beyond the smoke…,” he quietly said to Denkurou. “Do you see something?”

Denkurou and Nile looked past the hulk of the bombed-out ship. And right between the sea and the sky…their eyes found a minuscule dot on the horizon.

There was another ship.

It was hard to think that the ship was close enough to have attacked a Dormentaire private vessel. But the timing was too perfect to ignore.

On that thought, Denkurou strained to identify the ship.

After a little time had passed, he began to suspect he would not like what he discovered.

A few seconds later, Zank, whose eyes were far better than Denkurou’s, made it clear that he was right to be worried. His stern face grew even more severe as he murmured in a low voice.

“…It matches the description we were given.

“I believe…that is the Advena Avis.”