Baccano! - Volume 22 - Chapter 23

Chapter 23 The Demon Doesn’t Forget His Promises

The ritual had been conducted on the deck of a certain ship, out on the ocean.

Although it was far smaller than the Titanic and other Olympic-class ships, the steamship was over three hundred feet long, and it cut an imposing figure among the surrounding waves.

However, there was something that had appeared on its deck, its eerie aura far surpassing that of the steamship, leaving its passengers in awe.

“I see… Intriguing.”

The thing spoke quietly. The assembly on the ship’s deck—men and women dressed in old-fashioned robes, a group that seemed out of place in the twentieth century—weren’t able to locate the speaker. It hadn’t even shown itself, but its voice made their hearts tremble with fear.

As the saying goes, many people feel a deeper fear of the things they can’t wrap their minds around, things that defy logic or words, than they do of the devil they know.

Until they heard its voice, the robed group on the deck had thought they understood this being to a certain extent. They’d thought they were able to describe it. They’d even believed it was possible to control it.

However, the moment they heard its voice echo directly into their minds, they experienced something.

It’s here. It’s actually here.

Terror.

We called it. We are responsible for this.

And regret.

They rued their own foolishness.

They’d been manipulated by money, the knowledge they’d been given, and the existence of immortality. Without any deep knowledge of alchemy or theology, they’d summoned a being.

They weren’t well versed in other religions, and they didn’t even respect them. Too late, these followers of a new pseudoreligion realized what a preposterous thing they had called forth.

A demon.

They’d simply shoved everything onto a word they were already familiar with, then assumed they understood it.

And as that realization sank in, the thing named itself, as if mocking them. “What’s the matter? The alchemists who summoned me previously called me a demon. No doubt you were also told that was what I was. This is tiresome. You may simply call me ‘demon.’”

The unsettling, apparently sourceless voice addressed the sham religious group on the deck.

“Was this scheme Melvi Dormentaire’s? Or do I have the House of Dormentaire’s crafty vixen to thank? Did my fellow demon Rosetta contact you and put the idea into your heads? No, that’s the sort of thing a snot-nosed child would think up… Well, never mind.”

The self-proclaimed demon’s voice echoed across the deck, idle but imposing.

“Now then, where are we? …I see. The south of India. The insolence of summoning me all the way out here from New York… And? What knowledge do you seek?”

This was a clear question, and although there was fear in his eyes, one of the robed men managed to calm himself enough to speak. “A-are you truly…erm, the being the House of Dormentaire said was omniscient and omnipotent?”

“I reject the assertion that I’m omniscient and omnipotent, but I am the entity of which the House of Dormentaire spoke, yes. Now then, I believe I’ve given you the knowledge you sought: information about myself. Good-bye.”

“Wha—?! W-wait!”

“I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that, and anyway, that trope is worn out. I did try it once before, but for a while afterward, I was saddled with a reputation as an immature nitpicker. Well, never mind.”

From its tone, the group could imagine the demon shrugging—but without being able to see it, they had no way to confirm the impression.

“Y-you’ll give us…any information at all? W-would you show yourself to us first?”

“I’m already aware that you didn’t summon me at this particular time by coincidence.”

“? At this particular time…? Wh-what do you mean?”

“…Hmm. I see you don’t possess knowledge of the situation. Disposable pawns of the Dormentaires, are you? Well, never mind.”

The demon changed the subject and began to act out his original role, on a stage similar to the ship in 1711. “And? What knowledge do you seek? The alchemists who previously summoned me wished for knowledge of immortality. So did the group before them. Others have wished for the truth of the universe or a way to refine gold from iron, even to know whether God truly exists. Let me warn you that you may not be able to use the knowledge you gain immediately. For example, transmuting gold won’t be possible with current technology.”

“W-wait, couldn’t you just tell us everything there is to know?”

“Greedy, aren’t you. There would be no end to that. According to the contract by which you summoned me, I can generally give you knowledge about one thing, and assorted corollaries that accompany it. If you wish to know about immortality, for example, the method for creating a particular liquor as a means to that end would be considered secondary.”

“…We’d like to talk it over carefully before we decide. Would you wait a little while? We weren’t told we’d be given only one piece of knowledge.”

“…”

Just a moment ago, the robed group had feared the demon’s voice. Now, they seemed to believe that the summoning ritual had put it under their complete control. Gradually regaining their presence of mind, they began a shrewd discussion about what would come next.

From somewhere on the ship, the demon watched their faces fill with greed. It sighed. “For goodness’ sake… While this is a personal matter, in the past I’ve decided to show myself and shock the ones who summoned me, just to make sure they remembered my face. However, I’d rather you lot didn’t remember it. I’ll just use my voice to deal with you.”

His complaint went unnoticed. The robed group continued their chaotic discussion—although no actual discussion was taking place. They were just asserting their own demands and talking over each other all at once.

While it waited, the demon collected information on them from around the world.

I see. As I thought, they’re a brand-new religion. Well, calling it a religion would be rude to the truly religious. This is how people end up when their childish admiration of secret societies gets the better of them. They never learn to sublimate those feelings into positive action.

The whiskered individual in the center has some sort of social rank; that’s how he’s managed to keep this group together. And then the House of Dormentaire capitalized on it.

As if the demon had seen the group’s past personally, it understood many things in an instant. Then, having anticipated what would happen next, it made an additional remark to this magicians’ club.

“Let me tell you one thing: I have no knowledge of future events. Therefore, if you ask for accurate information about something that’s going to happen, I won’t be able to comply.”

“R-right. We know that. Anyone who could do that would be a god.”

“…”

Silently, the demon reflected on his own past.

He’d been created in a sealed flask, as a “double of the universe.”

In the beginning, Ronny had been a nameless homunculus.

While he could understand human speech and possessed human awareness, he had been created to be one with everything in the cosmos, including its past and future. In exchange for being unable to leave that flask, he had possessed the sum of all knowledge.

He had been capable of what the robed man had called a divine feat: knowing the future.

He could manipulate the world as adroitly as if it were his own hands or feet or fingertips. If he wanted to, he could stop its time as easily as a human could stop moving.

Through interacting with the alchemist who’d created him, the omniscient, omnipotent homunculus had ultimately taken human shape to manifest in the outside world. He had lost his knowledge of the future and some of his brain’s processing abilities, but in return, he’d cast his physical body out into the universe and taken his true form.

After the alchemist’s death, he’d inherited the man’s name. While he was an entity known as a demon, he’d lived as a human as well.

There were several others like me, but they all kept their knowledge of the future, choosing to relinquish most of their ability to interfere with the world instead.

Human bodies weren’t able to contain all the knowledge and abilities they’d had as twins of the world. That meant they had to choose something to abandon. This particular demon had discarded his knowledge of the future but kept his ability to interfere powerfully with other people and the world.

That was why he was able to perform feats befitting a demon.

If you change the future based on your knowledge of it, knowledge of the changed future automatically appears in your mind. I’m sure it’s convenient. Still…the goal of my birth was to stave off boredom. For me, giving up the ability to know the future was the right choice.

The memory of Rosetta, a female homunculus, crossed his mind. Ronny Schiatto—the demon who’d inherited the name of an alchemist—had some thoughts.

…I wanted to stave off boredom, hmm?

Yes, the Martillo Family never bores me. They’re a good syndicate—a superior worthy of respect, companions I can be frank with, a pupil who’s worth teaching how to wield a knife.

It’s a good place.

No… It’s a good family.

In the darkness, the demon smiled. Then he called to the group, which was still engaged in its heated, obsessive discussion.

“I have one more thing to tell you.”

“…?”

“I’m not simply a system for granting others’ wishes. I am neither a god nor an impartial judge of hell. I have what you humans would term ‘emotions,’ and I possess both ideals and a dream. And my dream is quite twisted—it’s one that was planted in me by the ancient alchemists.”

“Wh-what is it?”

The demon wasn’t about to say it was leaving because they’d taken too long, was it?

That thought made the robed group anxious, but the demon continued in a matter-of-fact way. “Due to a promise I made to the alchemists, I’ve set a restraint on myself: Whenever I’m summoned, I will always give my summoner the knowledge they want. However…when someone gets in the way of my dream and ideals—my ‘need for fulfillment,’ if you will—I grow irritated.”

“?”

Why was a demon talking about life? The robed group frowned, but that impassive voice went on.

“And so I won’t save you for free. If there had been someone who seemed interesting among you, I might have handled this differently, but… Well, never mind.”

“What are you talk—?”

Just then they heard an explosion, and the ship rocked violently.

“Wh-what was that?! What happened?!” The group’s leader sounded flustered.

“Melvi Dormentaire set you up,” the demon told him. “I imagine he doesn’t want a whole crowd of people possessing the knowledge of immortality. He tricked you into believing you had to summon me here, then created a device that would blow up the ship at a set time. An elaborate ploy, I must say.”

“M-Melvi?! Why?!”

“In other words, no matter what sort of knowledge you gain from me, you were always scheduled to go down with the ship,” the demon told them bluntly.

A stir ran through the robed group.

Before they could confirm any of this, a second explosion occurred, throwing the group on deck into a near panic.

“Now, do you want the knowledge that will save you from this situation?” the demon said. In a way, his words were very cruel; in another, they were quite merciful.

“Specifically, the knowledge of what you need to give me so that I’ll carry you safely to land. Knowledge of immortality would also save you, technically, but considering the currents in this area, you might end up spending eternity in the process of drowning… Well, never mind.”

A few minutes passed.

On the condition that the knowledge needed to summon him would be erased from their minds, Ronny had transported everyone on the ship to land. The next thing he knew, he’d been summoned to another ship.

“What now…? This time it’s right in the middle of the Pacific, hmm? …Well, no matter.”

When they heard him complain, the Japanese sailors who’d summoned him cried out.

“That voice… Have we actually summoned a noble amabiko-nyudo?!”

“W-we waited quite a long time. I didn’t think anything was going to show up…”

“Now I’m a youkai, am I?”

“Y-you aren’t one?!”

“No, that will do. Call me whatever you like. Nothing I’m called here matters anyway.”

Demon Ronny Schiatto, the “amabiko-nyudo,” decided to hear out these Japanese men. They probably didn’t know anything about the situation.

But in his heart, he suspected this was going to happen over and over, likely for roughly three days.

Telling the Japanese men the location of the treasure their ancestors had buried, Ronny smiled wryly to himself.

What an inventive way to keep me at bay.

Just how many people did he teach how to summon me?

He’s even taken care to stagger the times when it’s “possible” to summon me so that I’ll be summoned continuously.

If this happens again, it’s going to interfere with my work for the family.

He was already being kept out of the Ra’s Lance business, and he hadn’t been able to go off on his own and save Ennis, either. However, these “jobs” were based in a promise he’d made to his friend, and he couldn’t turn them down. Maiza and the others had already been informed that in cases like this (and only cases like this), he would temporarily step away from his work for the family. The Martillo Family men were trained thoroughly for this reason so that they wouldn’t have to rely on him in an emergency.

Still, if this was going to last for three whole days, even Ronny had to give it some thought.

As the price for granting their wishes, should I make them forget how to summon me…?

Should I also make sure the Dormentaires won’t carelessly spread stories of me around?

Granted, it’s likely that only a handful of people will even believe in demon-summoning rituals after the next few decades, but…

Well, never mind.

And so he kept on granting wishes.

Sometimes as a demon.

Sometimes as a messenger of the gods.

Sometimes as an unknowable, malevolent nature spirit.

Sometimes as an embodiment of the collective unconscious lurking in the depths of all humanity.

People stated their various desires, and many wanted preposterous things.

Meanwhile, Ronny himself had only one wish: to end this farce as quickly as possible, then do his utmost as the Martillo Family’s executive, Maiza Avaro’s friend, and Firo Prochainezo’s teacher.

That was his modest, one and only desire.