Baccano! - Volume 8 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: FRONT

LET’S THINK WISTFULLY OF THE OUTSIDE

Alcatraz Federal PenitentiaryBroadwayNight

“Hey. Hey. Hey, neighbor.”

The night Ladd had been hauled off to solitary, Firo woke to the sound of a voice beside him.

He’d had nothing in particular to do, so he’d doused the light in his cell before lights-out. He’d been curled up in his blanket half-asleep when an awfully excited voice reached him.

“…Dragon?” Firo murmured.

“Yeah. So hey, what was that?! This morning, that, uh… The guy!”

“Hmm…? Oh… You mean Ladd…?”

“That was murder! I’d never seen such a fantastic punch!”

“Haaaaah… Jack Dempsey’s tougher’n that.”

Yawning and responding carelessly, once again, Firo confirmed that the events of that morning hadn’t been a dream. If possible, he would have liked the fact that he’d come to this island at all to be a dream, but reality was not so kind.

“Tch! I was startled, too… Not ’cause his punch was so powerful. That fella was way off the track.”

As Firo answered, he was rubbing sleep gunk out of his eyes. In contrast, the one on the other side of the wall was apparently still feeling a lingering buzz of excitement and didn’t seem overly concerned as he whispered eagerly:

“That guy’s something else, all right! They say his left hand’s a fake. What, did he fight a man-eating bear or something and lose it in exchange for a win? Or did the ticking croc from Neverland bite it off…? Hee-hee, I bet it tasted real good. I’m jealous.”

Firo half expected to hear Dragon licking his chops, and he scowled, spitting out something that had just occurred to him.

“Then who’s the Pan who cut off his hand?”

Thinking that had been a lame joke if he did say so himself, Firo gritted his teeth in irritation. Then, to divert his attention from it, he tossed something else across the wall at Dragon.

“And actually…I’m surprised you even know about that book,” Firo remarked.

Peter Pan was a popular novel from England, and even in America, it had been released nationwide.

Firo remembered getting a copy from Claire, after the guy was done with it, and he’d read the whole thing a long time ago.

The eternal boy, huh…? Come to think of it, Claire really admired that.

In contrast, he himself had wanted to hurry and grow up to get stronger.

As he mused on the past, Firo gave a quiet, wry smile.

Who’d have thought I’d be the one to end up as an eternal youth…?

Firo was thinking that maybe he’d tease Czes by calling him Peter Pan later on, when abruptly, he realized that the response from the next cell was a long time in coming.

“? What’s up?”

“Uh… No, well… I used it to practice reading and writing English.”

“Huh. Come to think of it, your English is really good.”

“Yeah. Well, it ain’t bad. It’s not like I lived in an immigrant community anyway.”

Hunh… For all that, he seemed to be talking fluently with those other Asians during meals.

Dragon’s words sparked a doubt in Firo, but he had no time to linger on it.

Just then, footsteps sounded on Broadway.

The sound echoed between the bars, clinging to the convicts’ ears like a grim reaper’s scythe.

Firo stopped talking, burrowed under the covers, and waited quietly for the footsteps to pass by, but—

The footsteps stopped in front of his cell.

“Hey, you… What did you just hide?”

Huh?

The voice was clearly directed at his own head.

He didn’t know what it was talking about, though, so he stayed under the blanket for a little while, waiting to see what would happen.

After a pause, he heard the noise of the grate opening.

There was a scraping sound with no creaking right by his head, and Firo finally peered out from under the covers.

When he looked, there was a young guard standing there—and no sooner had the man stepped into the cell than, without giving Firo time to resist, he ripped the blanket off him.

“What? What gives?!”

Hastily, Firo sprang up, and the guard’s cold voice rang out ostentatiously.

“That’s what I want to know.” As he spoke, the guard tilted his palm, making the knife that lay on it gleam.

It was small, the sort you could hide in one hand, and its bright silver color made it look brand new.

“…Huh?”

Naturally, Firo had never seen it before, but—

The guard smirked, then grabbed Firo’s arm without letting him argue.

“Nice move, joker.”

Firo was dragged out of his cell. He still wasn’t fully awake.

He double-checked to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but the handcuffs that had been put on him were hopelessly real.

When he looked around, the denizens of the surrounding cells seemed to be watching them.

Dragon, who hadn’t extinguished his light yet, was looking his way and smirking, and Firo finally understood that he’d been placed in a unique situation.

Once the knowledge of his position had sunk in, as if to strike an additional blow, the guard waggled the knife in warning.

“All right… Let’s have a little talk about how you smuggled this in.

“…In the Dungeon. For a good long time.”

“So you’re the guy who works directly for Misery?”

They were down some stairs, through a door that was closed particularly tightly, then down the corridor beyond it.

Up until that point, they’d been surrounded by several guards, but now Firo and the guard who’d “discovered” the knife were walking by themselves.

When he’d heard the door shut behind them, Firo had told the guy what was on his mind, plain and simple.

Without even looking at him, the guard answered his question in an indifferent tone:

“That’ll make this go faster.”

“I didn’t think I’d get called out on the second day.”

“We’ve gotten backed into a bit of a corner.”

The guard betrayed no emotion as he spoke, and Firo frowned.

“Backed into a corner? By what?”

“You’re a con. You don’t need to know about the outside world.”

Then don’t bring it up!

Firo wanted to complain, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good, so he let the remark slide.

“So what are we doing?”

“We hear Huey already knows about you. In that case, we’ll just have the two of you meet. If there’s something you want to ask him, go ahead and ask; he’s probably got questions to ask you, too.

“…That’s a pretty reckless maneuver. Misery looks kinda by the book; did he really order this?”

He’d meant the words to be mildly sarcastic. However, the guard smiled quietly, then spoke, still walking.

“As if.”

That was all he said.

“…Huh?”

“I certainly am Mr. Misery’s direct subordinate, and tonight, I was told to take you to the Dungeon and get your opinion on our future course of action.”

“……”

Firo had a bad feeling about this.

A very specific bad feeling, as if nausea was working its way up from the depths of his stomach.

Remembering what had happened on the wharf when he was brought to the island, he reluctantly tested that premonition.

“So in other words…you’re Misery’s henchman and Huey’s?”

Firo sounded half-resigned. The guard nodded, smiling.

“It’s great that you’re so quick on the uptake.”

They were even deeper than the underground floor where the Dungeon was located.

On the other side of a hidden door, they descended a staircase that had been covered by a brick wall, and beyond its end, in the depths of the depths, far, far underground…

There was a room.

On the way down the stairs, Firo had felt as if he were journeying deeper and deeper into the island’s history, traveling back to the past. However, the moment they reached the lowest level, that idea was magnificently pulverized.

What waited there was a series of three doors covered in concrete and steel plate—a space meant to seal people inside.

The intervals between those three doors were only a yard each, and every door was tightly locked.

When the final door was opened, it revealed a rather long passage—and at its end was another locked door.

Unlike the previous doors, this one had a window set into it. There was a small cover beside the door, probably so that meals could be sent inside.

So they’ve sealed him in two or three times over?

He probably couldn’t grind his own body to a pulp, but if he rammed it desperately enough, he might be able to escape even through that little hole. The air vent might have been equipped with the same sort of double and triple measures.

Couldn’t they just cut off his oxygen and leave him like that forever? For a moment, a cruel thought crossed Firo’s mind. However, he realized, in the end, that would not be any different from encasing him in concrete and sinking him in the river, and he began to think—though it meant nothing—that Victor might be surprisingly humane.

Well, either way… If some of the fellas who have access to this place are traitors, it’s all pointless.

The idea made Firo smile wryly, and as if he’d read his mind, the guard also gave an ironic smile.

“The man who spoke to you on the wharf was transferred to the mainland. Naturally, he gave nothing away, and they can’t torture him. I hear they’re letting him roam free, under strict surveillance.”

“I see… So if I squeal on you, you’ll get the same treatment?”

Even at that casual threat, the guard didn’t flinch.

“That’s right. Then, before long, a replacement is bound to appear.”

“…How do you pull that off? If you tell me that, they might let me off this island tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you ask Master Huey directly? He might tell you.”

As they walked down the passage, the guard kept speaking, still smiling.

“Even with a traitor like me here, he can’t break out easily. You saw the heavy guard at the door to the Dungeon.”

“…Yeah, that’s true.”

Even if he did get out of here, the ways to get up to the surface from the Dungeon were probably limited. He’d heard that the warden of this prison was competent. Unless more than half the guards were his henchmen, breaking out would be an extraordinarily knotty problem.

“That said… Apparently, he is planning to leave soon.”

“…Leave this island?”

“There is nothing Master Huey can’t do.”

Hey, c’mon, hold up a minute…

This was only his second day here, but Firo had picked up on the prison’s extraordinary security all too well. Even if he was immortal, would he be able to swim across the strong currents in that ocean without being targeted by sharks? Practically speaking, escape had to be nearly impossible.

Still, Firo’s misgivings weren’t due to the issue of whether it was impossible.

If Huey managed to successfully crush out of here—

—then what happens to me?

Firo was here on the understanding that he would solve Huey’s mystery. If Huey disappeared from the island before he did that—

They wouldn’t shut me up in this cellar instead, would they?!

The nasty idea made the queasiness he was feeling even more noticeable.

While he was mulling over this, before he knew it, the two of them were standing in front of the door, and the guard’s hand was on the lock.

After opening several locks, the guard took a step back and motioned for Firo to enter.

“…Hey, I’m not going to end up with a hand on my head the second I get this heavy door open, am I?”

“If that was what we were after, we would have chained you up in the Dungeon first and laced your food with drugs to knock you out.”

Glaring at the guard, who’d answered his quip with more sarcasm, Firo reluctantly opened the door himself.

He kept his defenses up, but when he saw the figure of a man sitting in a chair through the cracked door, he relaxed and pushed it open the rest of the way.

However—

“Hey, Firo! What, they called you here, too?”

“Wha…?”

Isaac?!

Realizing that Isaac had been the one sitting in the chair in the center of the room, Firo gave a full-body shiver and took a big leap backward.

And then—

—an arm reached out from the shadow of the door, passing right through the spot where he’d been a moment ago.

“…!”

Firo immediately got his breathing under control and sent orders to all the muscles in his body.

Enemies, enemies, everything he could see was the enemy.

However, when he tried to analyze the situation calmly—his urge to kill faded in an instant.

He’d realized the hand that had stretched from the door’s shadow…was a left hand.

After a moment’s pause, the right hand joined the left, and then both came together in light applause.

“I see. Excellent agility. Your explosive power and judgment are quite impressive as well… You may be the equal of Nile or Denkurou.”

The first half was unstinting praise.

During the last half—which was an analysis spoken to himself—a man poked his head out from the shadow of the door.

Unlike the one that had been supplied to Firo, the prison uniform he wore was odd, very nearly pure white.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Or, from the perspective of your memories, perhaps I should say, ‘It’s been a long time, Firo Prochainezo.’”

Neither his voice nor his attitude seemed suited to a prison. The man turned a nearly emotionless smile on Firo.

Confirming that the face matched the memories of the various alchemists who slept nested inside him, Firo answered, although his wariness didn’t even flicker.

“I’d like to make it ‘good-bye’ real soon…Huey Laforet.”

“Now then…you look as if you have a few things you’d like to ask.”

A mere thirty seconds after their first meeting.

Beckoned by Huey, who’d advanced to the center of the room, Firo warily went farther in. However, there wasn’t any particularly unusual equipment inside, and except for its size, it didn’t seem all that different from the other cells.

Huey was near the wall on the opposite side of the room, while Firo stood as far from him as he could get, with Isaac between them. He didn’t even try to hide his irritation, and his words were saturated with sarcasm.

“Well, let’s see. You look like you know all and you act like you think you’re God, so I’ll ask you where you want an ordinary guy like me to start digging.”

“All right. You must be wondering why Isaac is here… I’d like you to start with that one, if you would.”

Firo was still radiating murderous intent. In contrast, the white-clad prisoner smiled quietly and spoke without hesitation.

He didn’t seem evil. He didn’t seem like a swindler, either.

However, somehow, Firo didn’t like the man. Why not? There were all sorts of reasons, including their meeting a moment ago, but his feeling wasn’t anything so trivial. For some reason, his instincts—his experience living in the underworld as part of his syndicate—wanted nothing to do with the guy.

An uncomfortable aura swirled between Firo and Huey.

The guard was waiting outside, and Isaac, who was being made to sit in the middle of it all by himself, completely failed to read the room. He looked interested only in the fact that his name had come up.

“What’s this, what’s this? What? What about me?”

“…Well, why are you here?”

Possibly because he’d wanted to break off his conversation with Huey and get his bearings again, Firo spoke to Isaac instead.

“Huh? Me? The guard called me in a little while ago, and I’ve been talking to this goblin fella.”

“…Goblin?”

In the sense that he wasn’t human, in a way, that might not have been wrong. Why had Isaac used a word like that, though?

As Firo wondered about this, Isaac began to relate knowledge that was as skewed as usual, looking as proud as he always did.

“Listen, in the Orient, people who secretly live in the hidden rooms of houses, like this one, are called the shiki-warashi. If you chase them out, you’ll have bad luck, and if you meet one by the side of the road, you’re supposed to put your shoes on its head and prostrate yourself to it! It’s lucky, so you worship him lots, too, Firo!”

“…Ahhh, dammit. It’s a nice change of pace not to have Miria chiming in, but somehow I want to hit you twice as bad.”

Possibly because he’d noticed the angry veins standing out on Firo’s forehead, Huey took a step away from the wall and spoke kindly to Isaac, who was sitting in the chair.

“Isaac, thank you very much for today. It was truly interesting, hearing all those stories… I’m going to talk about something secret with Firo for a little while, so it’s time to say good-bye for now.”

For just a moment, Isaac looked sorry, but he quickly regained his smile and responded with words that were far too innocent.

“I see! In that case, make the people in this prison happy, would you?! Everyone looks kinda gloomy for some reason. I bet something bad happened to all of them!”

“Yes, I do hope they find happiness. Oh, that’s right: Don’t tell anyone about what happened here… It would chase away the good fortune, you see.”

“You betcha! Just leave it to me! I may not look like it, but I’m particularly good at keeping secrets!”

If you were really good at it, you probably wouldn’t be here right now.

Firo thought the words, but making the retort would have been pointless, so he didn’t actually say them.

Oblivious to his cares, Isaac nimbly got up from the chair.

With Huey’s soft smile at his back, Isaac went away with the guard who’d been outside. He’d probably spend a night in the Dungeon, then be returned to his cell the next morning as if nothing had happened.

As he listened to the sound of the door closing behind him, Firo took another look at the other man’s face.

The smile the man wore now was substantially colder than the one he’d shown Isaac.

Wearing a smile that was as mechanical as a doll’s, Huey motioned to the chair in the center.

“Please have a seat.”

“You have a seat.”

“Very well.”

“……”

Without hesitating, Huey went over to the chair and sat down. The act intensified Firo’s suspicion that this guy would be hard to deal with.

He exhaled deeply, trying to curb his irritation, and just as he did so, Huey spoke quietly.

“I was rude to you back there, and I apologize. Sometimes I find myself wanting to indulge in childish mischief.”

“…? …Oh, that.”

Realizing that by mischief, he meant the fact that he’d hidden by the door and stretched out his left hand; Firo pretended to be calm as he responded, although his expression was still stiff.

“Don’t worry about it. That Victor guy did something similar to me.”

“I see. That does sound like Victor. However, despite your answer, your glare clearly indicates that you are worrying about it.”

“…Didn’t you call me here because you wanted to talk about something? I’m going to walk out.”

If he went back now, he’d be the one most inconvenienced by it, but even so, he wanted to leave.

He knew that he couldn’t get sucked into this man’s rhythm, but Firo hit him with his own question anyway.

“So? Why did you call Isaac here?”

“Yes, well, I knew he was apparently also an immortal, and I wished to speak with him for a little while… He certainly is an interesting fellow, isn’t he? I’m intrigued.”

“Did you call me for the same reason?”

“That was part of it, naturally, but…” After a moment’s pause, Huey crossed his legs and continued. “I had a little something I wanted to ask you. I believe you have questions for me as well, aside from what Victor wanted, correct?”

“…Well, great; that’ll make things go faster. And no… I don’t have anything to ask. It’s just something I want to say.”

With his back to the wall, Firo crossed his arms and, glaring at the man who was sitting a few yards away, bluntly made himself clear.

“Don’t mess with Ennis or any of the other people around me. That’s all.”

As Firo calmly stated his demands, he was remembering the Mist Wall incident, which they’d gotten pulled into a year previously.

“Listen,” he continued. “I don’t care what you’re trying to do, and I’ve got no intention of eating you. Maiza doesn’t have anything against you, and even if you make an enemy out of the whole U.S. of A or take a whack at world domination, as long as it doesn’t affect our business, then I have no problem. So don’t get us involved. I’m already ticked off about having to come all the way to this backwater island.”

“I see… You’re fond of Ennis, then.”

“…That’s not the point.”

Firo averted his eyes slightly as he answered, and Huey responded quietly.

“Last year… It does sound as though my subordinates committed a discourtesy. I expect Christopher and the others have a special affinity for Ennis.”

“Like I care.”

“I have no particular need to do anything with Ennis, either…”—the chair creaked, and the cold smile on Huey’s face deepened ever so slightly—“provided you cooperate with me.”

“Cooperate?”

“Szilard Quates’s memories and you yourself are both truly valuable.”

“……”

At this, Firo scowled openly.

He’d half expected as much, but that meant this guy already knew he’d consumed Szilard. Either that, or he’d deduced it and was now sure.

“I dunno… Either way, I can’t imagine we’re worth much.”

“No, no. Szilard’s memories hold the knowledge that created Ennis and information about the failed liquor of immortality. They’re of great value to me.”

“……”

“Besides, I’m fascinated with you as well… I haven’t experienced eating another immortal myself yet. Szilard ate many people, dozens of them. What changes did doing so trigger, or fail to trigger, in your mind? …Both your past and your future are truly intriguing.”

The man was gazing at Firo and smiling, and Firo answered with annoyance. “Shut up, asshole. And stop coming on to me. No matter what happens or how, I’m me.”

“…But wasn’t there a time when you couldn’t say that with confidence?”

In spite of himself, Huey’s words left Firo at a loss.

He’d probably suspected already. When he saw how Firo looked, Huey smiled and explained his own reasoning.

“The memories you inherited from Szilard wouldn’t consist of knowledge alone. I don’t know if you’ve tried it, but if you attempted to drive a car, your body should move naturally to perform the task, without having to intentionally call upon Szilard’s knowledge.”

“……”

“Gradually, those past memories and knowledge will blend together. In the end, can you truly declare with certainty that you are yourself? You say that you are the same as you were before you took his knowledge, but have you never doubted yourself, even for a moment?”

Huey wasn’t threatening him or attempting to unsettle him. He just kept asking questions with perfect indifference.

The questions were genuine; he wasn’t trying to corner Firo. He asked them as frankly as if he were giving a survey, and his calm eyes seemed to be hoping for answers just as candid.

Yet Firo sensed something bottomless and eerie in the depths of those eyes, and he felt sweat breaking out along his spine.

“What…are you trying to do?”

The question had slipped out involuntarily. Huey thought about it for a little while, and then—

“What indeed… My ultimate goal is…to create that ‘demon’ with my own hands. However, perhaps that’s only true at the present stage. No…but…”

By the latter half of the sentence, he was practically talking to himself, as though he was verifying his own thoughts.

After a short pause, he turned his eyes to Firo and murmured with some lingering uncertainty in his voice.

“I may want to know…what comes next. I think.”

“What comes next…?”

“I simply want to know, that’s all.”

Hesitant, Firo thought the man had said something odd.

“Know what?”

“To know something. The subject doesn’t matter.”

Huey uncrossed his legs, then crossed them again and began a long, long soliloquy, both for his own benefit and for Firo’s.

“Why was I born? What is the meaning of life? Why is it wrong to kill people? You sometimes encounter people who intentionally ask these things, questions that have nothing to do with our instincts. When I was very young, I too once thought such things with pretentions of being a philosopher—but I soon tired of them. And it wasn’t because I found no answers. I found too many, in fact. Scores of them, many different kinds. In the end, I could phrase these answers in any number of superficial ways to reach any interpretation—and I just cannot find interest in such things. Even if I know the answers are inside me, that fact alone means little to me at my core.

“However…I like learning the answers other people have found. For example, philosophers, innocent children, the wicked, the good, the contrary, the fools, the sages… It’s only natural for different people to find their own meanings in human life and truths of the world. However, for me, it’s simply…everything. I simply want to know all of it.”

“…All of it?”

“People living now, those who have lived in the past, those who will be born in the future…or all people who might have existed, even if they were never born, in the end—I want to know the minds of these others… And that is merely one example. In addition, there’s the question of what lies at the end of the universe. Is the smallest unit of matter a particle or a string…? …Is it possible to travel back in time? Does the multiverse really exist? Questions such as these have no bearing on the daily lives of humans, but I also want to answer those. What is the truth behind that theft? Who was Jack the Ripper? What is the identity of Ice Pick Thompson, the murderer who electrified New York a few years ago? How long should you cook whitefish to make it fall apart? Does ESP exist? What lies over the rainbow? …All of it, yes, all of it.”

The inflections of the prisoner in white gradually grew more pronounced, and he spoke with an excitement that bordered on lunacy.

“Once I know all that, what will I think? Will I find boredom there, or a shock? Or will it be a new mystery, one peculiar only to those who’ve learned everything? I simply… I simply want to reach it.”

“…What’s the point of that?”

“There doesn’t need to be a point. It’s possible that having reached it is the sole definite point. Even the answer to that still lies in the darkness. And so…I exist only to learn everything. I love learning—so much so that if this world won’t allow it, I think it should be destroyed. Nothing more.”

“If you put that another way, then…you mean you’d be okay with destroying the world if you could learn something from it?”

“If it was for the sake of knowledge, then yes.”

“……”

He’s completely nuts.

Having made that call about the man in front of him, Firo was running mental calculations about how to make his escape, when—

“…Ha-ha…”

—seeing his expression, Huey burst out laughing as though some internal dam had broken.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“…?”

Has he lost it?!

Deciding that he had, Firo was backing away when Huey put on a childlike smile—and shrugged.

“…I’m kidding.”

“…Huh?”

Firo’s mouth hung open. Reverting to his calm tone, Huey said, “Did you think I was acting on such pathetic motivations? Good grief. I was a child when I believed the world should be destroyed.”

“Huh?”

Firo was growing more and more confused, and Huey continued without concern. “You see, other people seem to see me as a terribly mysterious person. I thought you might think so as well. Just take what I’ve said with a grain of salt, if you would.”

At that point, Firo finally realized that he’d been teased, and he was filled with a muddled mess of anger, embarrassment, and…just a little relief.

“Wh-why, you…”

“Didn’t I say so earlier? Sometimes I feel like playing pranks.”

……If I jump him, I lose. If I jump him, I lose…!

Listening to his own muscles creak, Firo tried desperately to keep his cool.

“I bet you were pretty unpopular with the other alchemists, too.”

“I had only one friend.”

“That guy was either a total saint, a hypocrite, a moron, a weirdo, or a masochist.”

“No. He’s a lunatic and a false villain.”

As he murmured those words, Huey quietly averted his eyes.

He spoke with a slight trace of loneliness, thinking fondly of someone who wasn’t there.

“He is completely insane. The only thing he thought about was what he could do to bring joy to everyone in the world he saw. He seriously thinks there’s a way to make everyone on the planet—with their different mind-sets and religions and positions, good people and villains alike—happy.”

“Well, sure, he sounds weird…but I think I’d get along better with him than with you.”

Firo very nearly drew the face of one peculiar alchemist from Szilard’s memories. However, deciding it wasn’t particularly relevant now, he kept it locked away in his heart.

Before long, having completely returned to his original pace, Huey slowly got up from his chair.

“At any rate…I would like to form a partnership with you. Simply allow me to ask you a few questions from time to time. If you would like to sell the research results in Szilard’s memories, I will pay. If you’ll settle for an amount I can afford.”

“……”

“That way, I’ll have no reason to involve Ennis, and I don’t believe there’s any harm in it for either of us. I’ll order Christopher never to approach Ennis again.”

It was the first specific proposal Huey had made.

Firo thought about it for a little while, but before he could come to a decision, Huey set a concrete time limit.

“I plan to stay here for a few days longer. In the end, I’ll summon you here one more time. Give me your answer then, please.”

In other words, he meant that he was going to break out of jail in a few days, but at this point, Firo wasn’t surprised.

“If you agree, in lieu of an advance payment, I’ll provide you with information regarding my methods of making contact and how I make allies of the guards. I expect that’s more or less what Victor is concerned with, isn’t it?”

The man had seen through everything. Firo still had several things he wanted to say to him, but—

—in the end, Firo could only ask a single question.

“…What the hell are you?”

In response to that simple inquiry, Huey put a hand to his mouth and thought for a few seconds. Then he gave the safest answer he could manage.

“I’m…merely a researcher.

“Although, Victor and that senator don’t seem pleased with the idea.”

The guard had returned at some point, and after he’d escorted Firo out of the room—

—a young girl’s voice sounded from the bed.

“Good work, Father!”

“Yes, thank you, Leeza. How did things go on your end?”

“Um… There’s this one person who’s really bad news, and he keeps getting in the way! He’s a weird guy with a wrench as long as an arm! He’s funny in the head! But he’s reeeeeally strong, and even the Lamia members can’t do anything about him… Oh, but it’s okay! I learned all about him, and it’s perfect! I found a perfect hostage, so we’ll be able to do something about him soon!”

“You will, hmm? That’s wonderful.”

Huey was smiling gently, but abruptly, he realized that his daughter’s expression was different from usual.

“…? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve never heard you laugh like you were having so much fun before, Father! When you were talking with that Isaac person and when you were talking with that spy, Firo, you sounded like you were having lots and lots of fun!”

Leeza’s voice held a mixture of surprise and jealousy. Huey smiled at her quietly.

“Ha-ha. Leeza, were you jealous that I was getting along so well with people I’d just met?”

“Uh-huh! I was jealous! I was so jealous, I went grrrr! They should just go die! So hey, can I kill them?”

“No, you can’t. In any case, they’re immortals. You couldn’t kill them, Leeza.”

“Urgh…”

Leeza looked down, frustrated. She didn’t seem convinced yet, though, and she kept hounding her father.

“But you know, Father, you really were a little different today.”

His daughter’s statement sounded uneasy, and Huey gave his response quietly.

“While I talked with Isaac…it reminded me of the past.”

As he recalled his old friend, and himself in distant days—

“He…resembles him, doesn’t he? His personality, or perhaps the way he’s out of his mind…”