Baccano! - Volume 10 - Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

PETER PAN AND ALICE LEAD EACH OTHER ASTRAY

Friday After midnight Chicago An abandoned factory

Chicago, long after sundown.

Inside a factory bathed in the light of fires kindled in oil drums, Nice’s cheerful voice echoed.

“So then, unsurprisingly, I was sure I was a goner, but the spark made it down the fuse just in time—”

“…”

“Oh, yes, and there was the time Jacuzzi was afraid the corpses of some mafia men might start moving, so I blew the bodies up for him with one of my bombs. Man, you should have seen his face—”

Rail was as silent as ever, but Nice kept relating anecdotes of past explosions to him with immense pleasure.

As he listened to all her absolutely insane-sounding tales of explosions, Rail kept thinking.

I have to blow it up.

But what is “it”?

Something like an obsession churned in his mind, over and over: You have to blow it up. But he didn’t know what his target was supposed to be.

If he had a goal, it was rescuing Frank. However, he also understood that his goal and this impulse lay in completely different directions.

Blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up, blow it away, blow it away, blow it away, blow it away, blow it away, burn it, burn it, burn it, break it, break it, break it, smash it up, smash everything up, smash it, smash it, smash, smash, smash, argh it’s such a mess I feel gross, this is gross, blow it away, blow it away, blow it away, blow it up, blow it up, blow it up…

However, at the same time, something in the boy’s mind held him back as well.

No, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, if I give in to that impulse here, I’ll be doing just what Huey wants, I’m not a bomb launcher, I love explosives, but I’m definitely not his tool, I won’t blow things up the way he wants me to, I’ve got my own goals…

As his thoughts ran on a loop, Rail peeked at Nice’s face out of the corner of his eye.

So this…is the legendary bomb fiend.

At first, he really hadn’t been able to believe it, but the knowledge she displayed regarding explosives and bombs was enough to overwhelm even Rail…

And most convincing of all, everything she said exuded something like affection for bombs. Sometimes she’d stop talking, as if she was reliving the instant of an explosion, and an enraptured expression would appear on her face. He didn’t sense anything false in it, but he did sense something abnormal. Rail was growing convinced that this girl was another type of bomb fiend from himself.

It’s too late, though.

If I’d met her the day before yesterday, at least…I might have been incredibly, terrifically happy.

I might have hit it off really well with this lady and the rest of her group.

We could have had a great time talking about bombs.

We might have been friends.

But now…I can’t feel anything.

After all, she’s human.

She’s not like me.

…No.

I’m the one who’s different.

What am I anyway? I’m not human. I’m not immortal.

And without bombs, I can’t do anything. I’m not even strong, like Frank…

I can’t flip the idea around and own it, the way Christopher does.

I want to go crazy, but I can’t manage it completely.

But I think, right now…I’m not okay, either.

The impulse to destroy washed relentlessly over Rail’s mind. Somewhere along the way, it became a headache, and it gnawed away at his heart, deeply and quietly.

The only ones he could see around him now were the lady bomb fiend, who’d introduced herself as Nice, the woman in the red dress, whose name was Miria, and a few thuggish-looking guys.

Up until a moment ago, there had been a lot more people, but somebody had come and called them, saying something about not having enough hands and needing help, and then they’d all swarmed out and gone off somewhere.

Now that Rail had his bombs, he could have blown up everyone remaining and gone on his way. However, it felt like he wouldn’t have to do that. If he said he was going, it seemed likely that they’d just let him go.

“Oh, right. Right now…if anything’s troubling you, please tell me about it. I can’t leave a fellow bomber out in the cold,” Nice suddenly offered.

Rail turned away, snubbing the offer. “…It’s none of your business.”

“Our leader likes to stick his nose in other people’s business, and I’m afraid I’ve caught it from him.”

There was a soft smile on Nice’s scarred face. Rail glanced at her, and the destructive impulse echoing in his heart grew stronger.

She and the others had been kind to him, even though they didn’t know him from Adam. Before, he might have opened his heart to them.

But right now, Rail didn’t have a scrap of the mental security that would have required.

Amid the repeated exhortations to “blow it up” in his heart, a remark unexpectedly surfaced.

“I just hope…somebody who’s still whole can pull you back from the edge.”

“You see, if that happens, I’m sure you’ll be able to live as a human, Rail.”

Remembering what Christopher had said, Rail quietly shook his head.

That’s impossible. It’s just not possible, Christopher.

Although Nice’s obsession didn’t exactly make her normal, she and Miria probably counted as “still whole.” He understood that.

But, but Christopher… They can’t reach me.

Nothing anyone who isn’t broken says can get through to me anymore.

And so, and so I…can’t…

I can’t do anything except blow things up anymore, Chris.

When I break completely, then…then…

Will you…take my hand again?

Please, Chris…

Please…

Rail didn’t even say his wish out loud. It just disappeared inside him, in vain.

And then—reality struck an additional blow.

“Eeeek?!”

Suddenly, Miria’s scream echoed in the factory.

…?

Several of the people who’d stayed behind looked her way, wondering what was up, and—

“Good evening.”

—they saw two men in suits, one on each side of Miria, holding her arms.

“…! What are you doing?! Let me go! No…! Let! Me! Gooo!”

Miria struggled and kicked, but the handgun-toting men didn’t even flinch as they scanned the warehouse.

“Whoa there, nobody move. We heard there were more of you, but everyone here now had better stay right where they are.”

Are they with the guys who kidnapped Sham?!

They weren’t wearing black, but seeing someone abruptly caught and restrained made Rail remember the events of that afternoon, and cold sweat broke out on his back.

“That’s it—stay right where you were.”

Flashing their guns, the men looked around impassively.

Then their eyes went to Rail and Nice.

“There’s somebody covered in scars.”

“Hmm…? But there are two of ’em. Which one?”

Although their scars were of a completely different type, both of them had a significant amount.

The men held a whispered discussion about something, then pointed a gun at Miria’s head and spoke slowly to Nice and the rest.

“Either way, we need one person besides the bomber to answer our questions. Both of you, come with us.”

“Who are you…?”

“We’ll take your questions afterward. Right now, I’m gonna have to ask you to think about this young lady’s life and follow orders.”

His speech was cool and even and not even particularly threatening, but that was exactly what planted the fear that he could shoot Miria without blinking.

“Never mind, just run! I’ll… I’ll be fine, so…!” Miria shouted.

But Nice gave up on resisting and slowly raised both hands.

Meanwhile, as Rail watched the scene play out, he was already reaching into his pouch.

I see… They’ve got a hostage, huh?

I wonder which of us they’re after, me or Miss Nice.

It’s probably me, but…

Still. Too bad.

I can blow you up, you know.

You and everyone here.

As he took out a bomb, he actually looked somewhat happy, as if he’d finally found a legitimate reason to satisfy his impulse to destroy things.

Just then—a sharp pang ran through Rail’s neck.

“…—?”

Next there was a dull pain, as though something was being pressed into him.

It was a pain he’d felt far too often, long ago.

This is…

A sensation he’d felt countless times at the hands of Rhythm, the research institute Huey had developed personally, and at the hands of Huey himself.

It’s the sting of an injection…uh…huh…nn…ah…

As he felt his own awareness rapidly falling away, Rail flinched…and then fell into a deep sleep.

When she saw the third man, who caught Rail’s body from behind, Nice bit her lip. “When did he…?!”

Slowly pulling Rail into his arms, the third man returned the syringe to his jacket. “They said to be particularly careful of suicide moves. Well, he might not have liked that shot, but I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

Then the man took some sort of jar out of his jacket and gave an expressionless order.

“Take that woman away first.”

The men nodded, then covered the struggling Miria’s mouth and started out of the factory. “Stop! Let me go! Help me… Help me, Isaac…! Mmph…”

Nice looked at Miria, whose voice had been muffled, then glared at the man holding Rail.

“…?! She’s nothing to do with this! I won’t fight you, so please, let her go!”

“If we just held a gun on you, you might blow yourself up on the way over, and then we’d be up a river… Hey, don’t worry. Once we’re done, we’ll let you go right away,” the man muttered callously.

He took a white object out of the jar and tossed it into his mouth.

It was a small sugar cube.

Inside Nebula headquarters

“Hmm…?”

Gustav had been examining a work of art on display in the guest room corridor as he turned toward an imposing group stepping out of the elevator.

At first glance, they appeared to be a group of lawyers or something along those lines.

They were dressed very well, but the eyes under their hats were filled with something dark and tense. In other words, this was not a group of honest citizens.

Spotting an individual in the center of that group, Gustav narrowed his already-sharp eyes even further and muttered quietly to himself.

“I know him… Why is he here?”

As he watched them recede down the far side of the corridor, the vice president of the information brokerage thought for a while. Then, intending to contact his headquarters, he made for his guest room, which was equipped with a telephone.

As a result, he missed something important.

Just after the door of his room closed…

…Rubik, who was crunching a sugar cube, and the rest of his group appeared from an emergency stairwell farther down the corridor.

A child the vice president had met just the other day was slung over his shoulder.

A child whose body was crisscrossed with suture scars.

Inside Dolce

“This is fun… Let me tell you a fun story.”

As he dexterously repapered the wall with his wrench, Graham murmured calmly to himself.

“Y’know that carefree couple always hangin’ out with Jacuzzi’s group? From what I hear, one of ’em, Isaac or somebody, just got out of the pen. He’ll be here tomorrow morning…and they say they came all the way here to meet him. It’s a truly beautiful gesture of love. Those two were torn apart by the law, but their bond survived the unbearable loneliness unbroken. It’s unbreakable, huh…? Wonderful, really wonderful! And since it doesn’t have a physical shape, I can’t even break it with my wrench! Yes! It’s just too perfect! Should such a thing be allowed to exist?! Sure, why not?! I’ll okay it! I believe in human love! I fully intend to dislocate the joints of those who doubt it with my wrench, capisce?!”

“Then you should start by havin’ some love and kindness for your fellow man, Mr. Graham… Sheesh.”

Even as Shaft grumbled at Graham, who was as energetic as ever, he was helping to repair the bar’s interior.

Meanwhile, Jacuzzi and the other delinquents were bustling around the bar, hard at work.

Several more members of their group had been called in later and press-ganged into helping fix the place up, a fact that led to some grousing as they helped Jacuzzi carry tables.

“Why us too…?”

“There’s no other way. We have to finish up here as fast as possible and take Graham back to New York!”

Even as he said there was no other way, Jacuzzi was taking a fairly active role in the repairs.

They’d already been at work for about half a day, but there was no irritation in his eyes. He’d probably heard about the bar’s circumstances and felt sorry for the trouble the proprietors had to go through—and on the place’s thirtieth anniversary, no less.

“Come to think of it, you said that boy woke up?”

“Yeah, right before we got called over here. He was clammed up tight, but Nice and Miria are both staying with him. They’re treatin’ him nice, so he should open up soon.”

“Huh.” Jacuzzi’s response was unusually brusque, and his friends grinned at him.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re actually jealous of that brat.”

“Wha—?! N-no, I’m not!”

He had apparently hit the nail on the head, because Jacuzzi was bright red when he denied it.

“‘Don’t you take my Nice!’ he’s thinkin’.” “That’s you all over, Jacuzzi.”

“Whoo, it’s getting hot.” “Burning man.” “Well, now all we have to do is meet Isaac tomorrow and then just head back together, right?” “Hya-haah!”

His friends were as cheerful and hyper as ever. However, Jacuzzi looked at the people who were working on the other side of the bar, near the counter, and his face clouded just a little.

Red eyes and rows of sharp fangs, like a shark’s.

Christopher Shaldred, a member of Lamia, the group that had once come very close to killing him.

As he recalled the incident the previous year, Jacuzzi remembered what Tim had said to him just before he came here. Come to think of it, Tim had mentioned that Graham was fighting with his companions.

That was exactly why he’d panicked and come here, wasn’t it? After all the confusion, he’d forgotten about it, and the fact struck him as so pathetic that his eyes teared up.

Jacuzzi sighed deeply as he thought, then glanced over at Christopher again— But the suspicious individual in question was apparently enjoying a riveting conversation with the blond boy… Although the boy looked sullen, and the man was the only one smiling.

I wonder what it is. He seems to have mellowed out a lot since the last time I saw him.

Still, what’s scary is scary.

Jacuzzi averted his face, as if he couldn’t afford to make eye contact, and concentrated on his own work.

Well, I’m not sure what’s going on, but he seems to have stopped fighting with Graham, and I bet Tim will get everything else squared away later.

Relaxing into the assurance that it would be taken care of by everyone else, Jacuzzi and his group threw themselves into repairing damage they’d done nothing to cause.

They had no idea what was happening to the ones they’d left behind at the abandoned factory…

“That’s right. They’ve fixed the telephone already, but… These people said they didn’t know anything about the line.”

“It was just your imagination. They listened when I talked things over with them, didn’t they? They’re even repairing the bar for us. What reason could they have had for cutting the telephone line?”

“…I suppose…”

“I bet there was some sort of trouble at the phone company. It’s fixed now, so everything’s all right.”

As he listened to the elderly couple’s conversation, the Poet was as silent as ever.

So the telephone was dead… Was it really an accident?

Did someone intentionally create these circumstances? Were they trying to engineer a situation that would bring together most of the relevant parties? Perhaps they believed the police might damage their chances?

In that case, who cut, then repaired, the phone line? And when?

I can’t imagine someone here slipped out… Did they have an outside accomplice?

“What’s the matter, Poet? It’s creepy when you clam up.”

The Poet had been helping out with the cleaning in silence, and Sickle spoke to him quietly.

He briefly glanced at her, then began muttering in his usual way.

“Contradictions are the twittering of birds hailing from the distant horizons of space and time. Her speech defies the mathematical sequence God has ordained, this maiden with eyes the color of dead leaves. She has forgotten even the fate she has bestowed upon others, and from that selfsame throat erupts a new sequence, like to a declaration that she is the creator who brought the whole of the world into being!”

“…I know I’ve told you to shut up a ton of times before, but if you’re describing inconsistency like… No, actually, just shut up for a while.”

Fighting back the urge to kick him as she murmured, Sickle took control of the conversation.

“If what Chris said is true, then Frank got snatched by that group in lab coats. If Rail is trying to rescue him, he might end up a hostage instead…” She gritted her teeth in irritation, and anger smoldered in her eyes. “Dammit, we don’t have Sham or Hilton or Leeza. As things stand, we can’t even find out what’s going on. I’m losing my mind.”

Was her anger directed at the white-coat-clad group or at their own powerless selves? The Poet decided it was probably the latter, but he kept thinking anyway.

But what did they hope to accomplish by assembling us here? Did they plan to blow up the bar and get rid of all of us at a stroke?

No… If they did, they would likely have done so well before now. Then…considering what happened after we arrived…

A temporary resolution to our conflict?

…No, it couldn’t be that.

Apparently, although even he hadn’t realized it at the time, he’d been relieved that the three-way battle between Sickle, Chris, and the man in the coveralls had ended. The Poet smiled faintly, grateful to the boy who’d dashed liquor over them.

He did have a faint sense that something wasn’t quite right, but…in the end, the Poet didn’t identify what was causing it.

At least not until a few seconds later, when a new face burst into the bar.

“Jacuzzi! Jacuzzi, are you in here?!”

A young man dashed into the restaurant, shouting, and caught the attention of everyone inside.

He was one of the delinquents who’d stayed behind at the abandoned factory with Nice and the others, Jacuzzi realized. The delinquent’s intensity was making him nervous, but still he replied, “Wh-what’s the matter?”

“We got trouble… We got some real trouble, dammit!”

The boy was out of breath, and his face was pale. Everyone could tell something was up, something was big, and tension again replaced the peace of the bar.

“It’s Nice… Nice, and Miria, and that kid…”

“What happened?! Did they fight or something?!”

Miria was one thing, but if Nice and the bomber kid got into a fight, the whole town could get blown sky-high. Mentally erasing that image, Jacuzzi began to panic with tears building up.

But the situation was nothing like what he’d imagined.

“Those three… They… They got grabbed by a buncha weirdos in suits!”

Just then—

—something strange happened in the bar.

The delinquents gulped when they heard that their friends had been kidnapped, but…

…several individuals displayed a clearly unique type of astonishment, simultaneously muttering “Why?” and “They couldn’t have.”

They weren’t asking why the kidnapping had occurred.

It sounded more like a perfect plan had abruptly fallen apart.

And it didn’t escape the Poet’s notice.

One was a friend of Graham, the man in the coveralls—a guy he’d called Shaft.

Another was a young friend of Jacuzzi’s, apparently the one who’d brought them here.

And one more…

The change was most conspicuous in that individual.

After all, he’d remained persistently sullen up until a moment ago, more so even than Sickle, no matter what happened. However, for this one instant, confusion made itself plain in his face.

It was the person who’d brought Christopher to this bar.

Ricardo Russo, the boy who’d introduced himself as Placido’s grandkid.

In a train on the transcontinental railroad

“Why…?”

On a late-night express bound for Chicago, in the seat opposite Isaac, Sham blurted out the word, his eyes widening.

“Hmm? What’s up, Sham?”

“N-no, it’s nothing.”

“Really? Okay, never mind, then.”

Isaac was too excited about tomorrow to sleep, so he’d been gazing out the window at the scenery. When he caught sight of shadows flying past in the moonlight, he began bouncing around like a little kid.

“Hey, Sham, look at that. There are so many birds flying out there, even at night!”

“…They say that swifts can fly even while they’re asleep, so…”

“Really?! Talk about hard workers; that’s amazing!”

As Sham joined Isaac in watching the flock of birds, which were flying even faster than the train, he thought for a while.

Why…?

I know nothing about this.

Miria, Nice, and Rail, kidnapped…?

That wasn’t part of my plan.

Right now, at this very moment, as he felt the fear of this unknown element stealing through his network, a light sweat broke out on the back of every Sham in the United States.

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary In the cells

“So Chané’s the……………”

“What’s the matter?”

Firo hadn’t managed to ask about that woman Chané before, so he’d been about to get the details. But while he was talking with Dragon in the next cell over, the Asian man had suddenly fallen silent. Worried, Firo had called out to him, but—

“N-no, it’s nothin’… Sorry. I’m turning in for the night.”

“…? Did something happen somewhere else?”

“…Don’t worry about it. Once this is over, I won’t lay a finger on your friends. I promise.”

“You’d better not. That doesn’t mean we’re all square, though. Remember that,” Firo warned in a low voice.

But Dragon’s only response was silence.

Chicago Nebula headquarters basement Pharmaceutical sector Development Department Six

“…”

“What’s wrong?”

One of the researchers had abruptly frozen, and Renee spoke to him, sounding concerned.

“N-nothing. It was just a little dizzy spell.”

“Oh, honestly. Did you pull an all-nighter? Poor circulation can even make incomplete immortals feel temporarily unwell, so be careful, all right?”

Renee was chattering away in the sort of tone she would have used for a lecture. The researcher responded with a wry smile, the way he always did.

Sham, who was disguised as a researcher, was keeping his cool and acting like his usual self, so as not to be unmasked.

Renee was ditzy, but perceptive. She and Huey both posed similar dangers.

Regretting the disturbance in so many of his bodies, Sham promptly decided to gather information to use in revising his plan— And he started by moving an individual who was very close to this one.

“By the way, Renee,” said a man seated in a chair in the corner of the room. He had no distinguishing features to speak of. He seemed to be a simple staff member, but—

“What is it, Sham?”

—Renee called the man Sham without blinking.

What I have to be careful of here is to avoid accidentally responding with the researcher.

Mentally bracing himself, Sham grinned in the body of the staff member. “Did my information prove useful?”

“Yes! Very much so! Thanks to your betrayal of Huey, we acquired a valuable specimen in Frank, and we’ve managed to secure all the Hiltons in town!”

“I can’t afford to let Huey find out yet, so I’ve reported that I was taken as well…”

As he chuckled with a spiteful smile, Sham thought to himself.

Using each one of his hundreds and thousands of bodies, the mind that lay below all of them again started making sense of what he knew about the present situation.

Sham and Hilton.

They were both by-products of alchemy, enormous masses of consciousness that had been created by the art.

Both had expanded their mental networks, Sham taking male bodies and Hilton taking over females.

And in order to implement his plan, Sham had begun by betraying Huey.

Hilton’s bodies were strictly managed by Huey and Rhythm. She didn’t have the liquid that was required in order to propagate her awareness in the first place.

This had been true for Sham as well. However, he had capitalized on a vulnerability, gotten a member of Rhythm to drink his water, and succeeded in taking over his mind.

The rest had been easy.

He’d cultivated the water and taken over mind after mind behind Huey’s back until he’d manage to acquire five times more than Huey knew he had.

Next, he’d sent one of his unofficial bodies to Renee.

He’d already had control of one of her researchers, but neither Huey nor Renee knew about that one. The researchers of Rhythm had originally suggested infiltrating Renee’s group, but Huey had objected, saying it could be used against them.

But Sham had already broken one rule, and there was no need for him to listen to Huey’s suggestions.

He simply kept multiplying his bodies as he saw fit.

Then, as the traitor Sham, he’d leaked all kinds of information to Renee: notes on Lamia, on Huey’s other pet organizations, and on Sham’s and Hilton’s official bodies.

Renee and the Nebula research team probably hadn’t believed him completely, but even with their doubts, they’d made use of it.

As a result, right before Huey’s experiment was slated to begin, the wanted poster for Lamia began to circulate, and Hilton/Leeza temporarily disappeared from the city.

Sham had staged his own kidnapping in front of Rail to create the impression that he was being taken just like Hilton, but even he hadn’t expected Rail’s insanity to have progressed as far as it had.

Still, he had to keep his own plan moving forward.

And to that end, he had spent today feigning coincidences, making contact with Isaac, and feeling a level of satisfaction and determination toward what he’d done. He’d thought he was successfully riding the stone that had begun to roll, but—

Why were Rail, Nice, and Miria kidnapped now of all times?

He’d been sure he had a handle on everything.

Conceit had led him to make an error. He should have left one of his bodies at that abandoned factory.

However, he only had one body on Jacuzzi’s team, and he’d needed to use it to get Jacuzzi and his crew to Dolce, where Graham was waiting. In light of that, he hadn’t even considered the option of staying at the factory himself.

Dammit. I should have at least kept watch.

Even as his mind cursed in irritation, the thousands of bodies that acted as his hands and feet kept coming up with emotions and choices that corresponded to their separate circumstances.

Compared to normal humans, he could probably be called truly omnipotent.

However, the closer he got to omnipotence, conversely, the more afraid he sometimes was.

He could take every possible precaution, and unforeseen situations could still crop up. He didn’t know whether it would be the fault of fate or human hands.

Even if he united all of humanity in himself, that probably wouldn’t change.

Plus, a world composed entirely of himself would be boring. He wanted no part of that, so Sham was doing his best to avoid multiplying his bodies further.

…For now, at any rate.

Sham began sifting through all his bodies, hunting for any information connected to his current predicament.

All at once, his thousands of bodies all searched for the cause. To borrow the terminology of a later era, it was like searching an information network for a single word or image.

…

And then he found it.

It wasn’t conclusive, but it could serve as a hint.

It can’t be…

Don’t tell me someone like that is getting involved.

It was only a possibility at this point in time, but there was no real way for him to check.

That individual was in a difficult place to infiltrate, like the upper echelons of Nebula or the United States Congress. Even if he managed to make him drink the water and took over his mind, that body would be eliminated as soon as the people around him sensed anything amiss. Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary was one such place; merely sneaking several individuals into it as he was currently doing was no small feat, and they were reassigned every few months at the longest.

He could take over the mind of the President of the United States, but he had the feeling that some sharp intellect would see through it right away and he would soon be relieved of his office. The feeling was something like instinct, acquired by accumulating the experience and knowledge of several thousand people—but it was probably correct.

This was true when dealing with Huey as well.

Ordinarily, outwitting Huey was inconceivable, which was why he was having to scheme and plot and stoop to every low-down trick he had, all without breaking a sweat.

If everything came tumbling down because of a temporary obstacle like this one, there was no hope for him.

Burying his restlessness under the chaos of several thousand different emotions, he calmed his mind again.

He understood that the only thing he could do now was stay true to his own convictions.

Inside Dolce

Jacuzzi’s group had scrambled out of the bar in a panic, and it felt rather empty now.

The repairs were very nearly finished, and the only people still there were the ones who’d been involved in that initial three-way battle. Graham had left his friends with an unusually brief “It’s all on you now, men!” and gone with Jacuzzi and company. Shaft and the others, bewildered, had continued working on the bar.

At this point, it was less like a repair job than a remodel. Although they’d preserved the bar’s atmosphere, the timeworn interior now seemed practically new.

At first, the old couple who owned the bar had thought this might end up being the worst day of their lives, but once it was over, the day would remain in their memories as one of the better ones.

And the awful first half had probably made the events of its second half shine brighter.

“All right, everyone, excellent work, and I’m sure you’re tired. These are terribly late, but please enjoy!”

Smiling cheerfully, the old proprietor brought out a platter heaped with barbecued ribs, seasoned according to their various styles.

The assortment of spicy scents mingled with the aroma of the meat juices, whetting the appetites of the tired workers.

There was no telling who went first as they began reaching for the platter. Christopher raised a rib with the seasonings he’d ordered to his lips. The moment his sharp fangs sank into the meat, the juices within spilled into the spicy, highly seasoned sauce.

“Wow… This is really good.”

Making an unusually straightforward comment, Christopher savored his food in silence for a little while.

“Yum.”

“Whoa.”

Shaft and the rest of Graham’s buddies also took ribs from the table and piled them onto their plates, expressing their appreciation.

Ricardo gazed at them wordlessly for a while, but…

…noticing that the man in the hat was looking her way, she reached for the meat as well, as if to camouflage her own silence.

“By the way, what are you going to do now?” After polishing off his first rib, Christopher spoke to Sickle, who was taking her time.

Pausing her knife and fork, Sickle answered quietly. “Well, since we can’t count on instructions from Sham, Hilton, or Leeza, I’m thinking of doing an independent search for Frank to start with. After all, Rail will probably turn up wherever he is, too… What about you?”

“Mm, that’s yet to be seen. From what I hear, Chi went to New York and probably won’t be back for a while yet, and if Sham and company aren’t delivering orders, my friend-and-master would be Ricardo.   Oh? He may outrank Huey, in fact, since he’s a friend, too.”

“You are such a… Ah, shit, I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that from you, but would you worry about Rail and Frank a little? From what you told us earlier, if you’d brought Rail with you—tied him up and dragged him if you had to—this wouldn’t have happened.”

In response to this clear complaint, Christopher shook his head softly. “…A year ago, I might have done just that.”

“?” Sickle’s eyebrows came together, but Christopher didn’t elaborate.

Perhaps deciding that saying more would be pointless, Sickle glanced at Ricardo next.

Immediately realizing what the look meant, Ricardo considered for a little while, then gave her own honest thoughts. “For now…I’d like to get a handle on the situation myself. Would it be all right if we met somewhere tomorrow and picked this up again then?”

Sickle and the Poet had no objections to that suggestion, which made it painfully clear just how few options they had.

During the awkward silence that followed, the only sound in the bar was the noise of Shaft and the rest of Graham’s underlings devouring the ribs with relish.

They ate as though these ribs were the most heavenly, exquisite, delicious meal they could have…

After they’d traded contact methods and settled on a meeting spot, Ricardo and Christopher left the bar.

The owner’s profusion of gratitude made them feel more apologetic than anything as they got into the car and set off for their planned lodgings for that night.

“…Your family’s full of really sensible people, Chris.”

“You think so? Well, I don’t really know what was going on, but the Poet was pretty quiet today. You also haven’t seen Chi’s fabulously oriental outfits yet; that’s why you can afford to say that.”

“Either way, I don’t think they’re any stranger than you.”

“Hmm? Was that supposed to wound me?” Christopher cackled, gripping the steering wheel. The mood between them in the car was no different than it always was.

Amid that familiarity, in the same casual tone he always used, Christopher asked a question.

“By the way, Ricardo, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Which one are you?”

“?”

It was a peculiar thing to ask out of the blue, and Ricardo frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you see…”

Stepping lightly on the accelerator, red eyes blazing, her friend asked a critical question—and in that instant, a line of sweat ran down Ricardo’s face.

“I was just wondering if you were Sham or Hilton.”

“…—”

For a little while, Ricardo was silent.

Only the sound of the engine echoed around them, and the stillness around them seemed wrong somehow.

Just when it seemed as if the engine’s hum might continue around them forever…Ricardo’s expression returned to normal.

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Sham and Hilton are the messengers you mentioned in your conversation earlier, aren’t they?”

“Hmm…?”

She was clearly trying to throw him off. After hesitating a little over her denial, Christopher stood by his own assumption. He was still smiling.

“No, really, no need to hide it or anything. I’m not angry, and even if you are Sham or Hilton, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re my friend.”

“…What makes you so sure?”

“Several reasons, but…let’s see. The first time I smelled something funny was…when we found Rail.” As he remembered the events a few days before, Christopher’s smile faded, and his tone grew more detached. “You see, I’m very confident in my hearing, and yet you said you’d heard the sound of an explosion I’d completely failed to notice. The first time was one thing, but my ears were pricked that second time, and you still heard it. Here in the city, with so many buildings to scatter the sound, you correctly guessed the direction and even the distance.”

“…”

“Then there was the time you came to save me, driving the car. This car’s not easy to handle; you couldn’t operate it as smoothly as you did just by knowing how to work the gas and brake.”

“…”

Christopher went on to list several more things that had struck him as odd, and Ricardo listened in silence from start to finish.

“Although I think the most glaring one was today.”

“…I thought it might be.” Her brief murmur seemed resigned, apparently affirming what Christopher had said.

“Well, sure. Almost nothing’s ever that convenient. Chicago’s huge, and it’s just not possible for all of us to show up at the same old bar all at once. More than anything, while I was fighting with Graham and Sickle, nobody opened the main door. The blinds were down over the windows, too.”

“But Jacuzzi Splot and his group knew about it.”

“…And while I’m listing things…”

“I know Jacuzzi Splot’s name, although I’ve never heard it before,” Ricardo answered as if she had read ahead in the script, and Christopher burst out laughing.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes, exactly!”

He broke into a broad, fanged grin, and with that eerie expression on his face, he pushed down on the accelerator even more.

As the car sped up, Christopher’s smile faded. Continuing in a calmer tone, he spoke to the something that wore Ricardo’s shape.

“Here’s what strikes me as strange: if you’re Sham or Hilton, you should already have given me instructions from Huey. At the very least, you should have relayed them to Sickle and the Poet back there.”

Christopher’s expression turned rather serious, and he went on.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…”

“…”

“…betraying Huey, would you?”

Silence descended again, and the noise of the engine was the dominant sound in the car’s cramped interior.

Ricardo had already reverted to her usual sullen expression, and she responded to her friend with a question that sounded very much in character.

“If I am, will you kill me?”

If she’d been unlucky, that remark could have gotten her shot through the head on the spot.

But Christopher shook his head, smiling wryly.

“A year ago, I would have… Ah yes, Chi asked me the same thing once, and I told him, “Sure I’d kill you; why?” No hesitation. Oh, the nostalgia. Me in my salad days.”

That was all he said, and then his usual faint smile was back on his face.

Ricardo lowered her eyes quietly, then spoke with more gravity than usual. “…Tomorrow, once things calm down, I’ll tell you everything.”

Conversely, she’d just declared that she wasn’t going to tell him now, but a firm resolve lay behind her words.

“And so, until then…trust me.”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

In response to a terribly convenient request, Christopher smiled innocently with his monstrous face.

Wearing a smile so pure it was fiendish in its own way, the childish monster…murmured bashfully.

“After all, you’re my friend, Ricardo… Or so I’d like to say, but you know what they say about people who are too quick to befriend others.”

“…”

“So I’m not just saying this offhand.”

“Huh?”

“No matter what you really are—you’re the friend who supported me here, as I am now, you know? So even if you sell me out, I’ll forgive you with a smile… Remember what I said? It’s okay for friendships to be give-and-take.”

“If you need peace of mind…go ahead and take whatever you need from me.”

Dawn broke.

First in Chicago.

A few hours later, the dawn light fell over Alcatraz.

That blazing red light tinted both locations beautifully, declaring the arrival of an ordinary morning.

And—they welcomed a morning that would prove to be a crossroads.

For some of the people who had been involved in that incident, the morning would be an ending.

For others, it would light a new path, and serve as a major turning point…

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary

During the exercise period after breakfast, Firo wandered around the recreation yard.

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary had a relatively spacious yard, a perfect place for the prisoners to let off steam after spending most of their time cooped up.

Twice a week, on just two days—Saturday and Sunday—they were allowed to use the recreation yard for a mere five hours per day.

During this free time, which somehow managed to feel both long and short, many of them entertained themselves by playing handball.

Some played games with dominos or cards, while others sat on the steps that formed one side of the recreation yard, soaking up the sun and fresh air.

It appeared to be the picture of peace, but stern-faced guards armed with rifles looked down over the yard from the guard station windows, forcibly reminding them just where they were.

It was the first time Firo had walked freely around the recreation yard this way.

He’d been out there on cleaning duty several times, but he’d been focused on work then, or Dragon had been biting chunks out of the gap-toothed guy, so he hadn’t had time to really take in the fresh air.

Now he was enjoying his first real taste of free time, which was good—except there was nothing he really wanted to do, and he kept thinking about Huey Laforet, who was probably deep underground at this very moment.

It’s been two days since then, but…he hasn’t tried to pull anything.

Firo had thought he would attempt to make contact with him or, worst-case, come into his cell personally and put his right hand on his head— But all his anxiety had been for nothing.

Did Isaac get out okay?

Thinking of his friend, who’d vanished from the prison, Firo looked up at the sky from among the prisoners who were enjoying their free time. Casually, his eyes went to the water tower that stood at the back of the recreation yard, on the other side of a fence.

Wow. Peregrine falcons all the way out here, huh?

Spotting countless birds wheeling above the water tower, he slowly walked over that way.

From their size…I’d guess they’re all females.

As he gazed at the graceful flock of falcons, Firo realized that his knowledge of birds had originally belonged to someone else. It gave him mixed feelings.

…Well, I guess it’s not the end of the world if it’s something like this. Thanks; I’ll be sure to put it to good use.

With a mental expression of gratitude to the knowledge’s rightful owner—an alchemist who’d been eaten by Szilard—Firo went closer. There weren’t many inmates over here, and the sea breeze felt colder.

However, even when Firo approached them, the wheeling falcons didn’t fly away. They were sticking to the water tower as if they owned it.

Man, that’s a lotta birds.

Thinking there might be nests or something up on the tower, Firo decided to watch them for a little while, but then—

—impossible words reached his ears.

“…Found you.”

Huh?

The words had come from somewhere nearby, and Firo looked around in spite of himself.

The speaker had clearly been a woman. She had a sultry, voluptuous voice, one that sounded more mature than Ennis’s or Miria’s.

Had he started hearing things in prison? Or was one of the guards listening to a radio on the other side of the fence?

If he was going to be hearing things, he’d rather hear Ennis, Firo thought—and the voice came a second time, more clearly than before.

“Perfect… You came outside.”

“…—! Who’s there?” Realizing that the words were definitely directed at him, Firo looked around again. But he didn’t even see any inmates nearby, let alone a woman.

Suddenly—he was struck by a very unpleasant feeling.

Isn’t it kinda dark…?

It was like the morning sun had been suddenly blotted out. Firo jerked his head up, looking at the sky…

…and saw something weird.

A moment ago, there had been about a dozen falcons.

Now there were at least a hundred, and they weren’t over the water tower. They were circling over him.

 ?!

For a moment, Firo was taken aback by the clearly abnormal numbers and behavior of the birds.

But the sultry, feminine voice still echoed relentlessly in his ears. “How dare you… Master Huey’s… Father’s eye— How dare you?!”

“What?”

As Firo heard the raw enmity in those words, he realized what was speaking.

It can’t be… It’s the falcons…?!

The moment the realization hit him…

One of the raptors plunged into a dive—

—and ruthlessly sank its sharp talons into his face.

Chicago Union Station

“Miria…!”

Murmuring the name of his sweetheart, a figure descended jauntily into the station.

His voice was drowned out by the station crowds, but Isaac was not bothered. His head was swiveling and his eyes were darting around with dizzying speed. “Where is she?”

After a long train journey, Isaac had finally arrived in Chicago.

They’d set a vague meeting time: this morning. Maybe Miria wasn’t there yet?

As Isaac scanned the area, fidgeting restlessly, other passengers bustled around him on their way into and out of the train.

“Come to think of it, I wonder where Sham went.” He hadn’t seen his friend since the train pulled into the station, and that was when Isaac realized he didn’t know the first thing about him. “I should have at least gotten his address in New York or something. Well, that’s all right; I’ll ask him next time I see him!”

Isaac believed, without a doubt, that they’d run into each other again in vast New York City.

Although he was alone now, he was still very much himself as he spun around and around, waiting for his beloved Miria to arrive.

Immediately afterward—he noticed someone standing behind him. Assuming it would be Miria, he turned around with a smile.

And there he saw—

Ten minutes later

Two figures dashed into the station, out of breath—Jacuzzi’s friends, Nick and Jack.

Spotting a train that was preparing to depart for New York, Nick yelled in a panic.

“Aaah, the train’s already in!”

“Hey, what are we even supposed to tell Isaac anyway? I mean, he’s gonna lose it if we say somebody kidnapped Miria, right?”

“Nah, I don’t think he’d do that, but…I betcha he’d start screamin’ about goin’ to save her, run off without a plan, and get himself hit by a car or something.”

As they worried about this and that, the two of them scanned for Isaac, but they didn’t see him on the platform.

“…? Is he on the next train?”

“Well, let’s look a bit more.”

They searched the platform until the next train arrived, but…

…Isaac never did turn up.

He wasn’t on the next train, either. Or the one after that.

Turn back the clock a bit.

Nebula headquarters building The guest-room floor In a corridor

The decor in the hallway was so opulent that it could have been mistaken for a hotel or museum.

Along that hallway, some of the rooms that welcomed Nebula’s diverse array of guests were luxury guest rooms that resembled hotel suites. For the most part, they were intended for the directors of business partners and foreign politicians.

The door to one such room opened to reveal a group of men who appeared to be on the wrong side of the law, with one man at its very center.

Despite the clothes they wore, the men seemed very grim.

The members of the cleaning staff who were in the corridor gulped involuntarily, moving out of their path without being told.

The mere presence of this daunting group was enough to give them power over a room as they soundlessly made their way through Nebula, but…

Suddenly, their progress was blocked by a lone man and a petite girl holding a camera at the ready.

The man, who had appeared in front of this imposing wall with unbelievable boldness, glared at the men with sharp eyes.

Meanwhile, the girl was clutching her camera and shivering hard.

“Who’re you?”

“Wait, he’s…”

Muttering, the men stopped in their tracks.

As the tension built in the corridor, the man confronting them spoke to the group’s central figure, adjusting his monocle with a finger.

“…It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

In response to the greeting, the man at the center of the human wall soundlessly raised his right hand.

Like a wave, the wall parted to the left and right and revealed a man in his prime.

He was probably past fifty. His wrinkles were not deep, but neither were they shallow, and a pair of intellectual-looking spectacles sat on his dignified face.

“It’s been a while, information broker Gustav. Soliciting subscriptions for your paper all the way out here?”

The words were ironic, but there was no sarcasm in his voice.

Gustav responded in his usual manner, with no marked change of expression. “I happened to catch sight of you on this floor yesterday, so I thought I would pay my respects.”

“Hmm. Let’s have you fill me in on the details over lunch. We’re about to go do a little negotiating, you see.”

“Very well, sir.”

With that, Gustav withdrew to the side of the corridor, letting the group in suits move on.

Carol, who was still shaking, hid in his shadow. Once she saw the men disappear around a corner, she exhaled deeply.

“Compose yourself… However, the restraint that kept you from screaming when you saw his face warrants an additional thirty points or so.” Gustav paid her a rare compliment.

Carol’s quivering lips parted. “Th-they weren’t just ordinary good people, were they? Were they?”

“Hmm?”

“U-um, who on earth was that man?”

Carol was still frightened. Gustav looked at her face, then put a hand to his chin.

“So you didn’t know, and the atmosphere was all that frightened you. That demands a deduction of five hundred and twenty-seven points.”

“I’m losing points?!”

Ignoring his assistant’s shriek, Gustav told her the name of the individual in question as casually as if he were introducing an old friend.

“You’d do well to familiarize yourself with him. That was Mr. Bartolo… The most influential figure in the Runorata Family, which is itself one of the most powerful groups in the East.”

A few minutes later Nebula headquarters In a certain meeting room

“…I believe I told you everything I can tell you yesterday.”

Nice was sitting in a chair—not that she had a choice—as she spoke resolutely to the men who were standing in front of her.

A thin sweat had broken out on her back, and it was all she could do to curb the fear that was welling up inside her.

She’d fought the Russo Family again and again.

She’d come face-to-face with death many times, most notably during the Flying Pussyfoot incident, and she had always survived.

And yet—right now, her mind was on the verge of being crushed by an extraordinary pressure.

These men… They’re probably mafia, but…

…they’re nothing like the Russos…!

They hadn’t done anything violent to her. She hadn’t been threatened.

Still, Nice could sense it with painful clarity. Maybe she had developed that sensitivity precisely because she’d led the Russo Family around by the nose and survived so many life-or-death situations.

She knew just how incredibly, hopelessly vicious and dangerous these men were.

Ronny Schiatto, the man she’d met a year ago, was still creepier, but as far as actual danger was concerned, the men in front of her seemed to pose several times more.

A middle-aged man sat in the center of the row of men, across the table from her. He wore glasses and looked rather sedate, but the sharpness of the eyes behind those spectacles was enough to keep her from making eye contact.

The middle-aged man, who’d introduced himself as Bartolo, spoke to her slowly in a voice that was as calm as his appearance.

“Yes. Today we want to talk, not to you, but to the boy next to you.”

His eyes shifted to Rail, who was tied to a chair beside Nice.

Miria was currently isolated in another room. If Nice caused a disturbance with the bomb she had hidden on her person, she’d put Miria’s life in danger. Unaware that the other woman was actually immortal, Nice gritted her teeth and kept trying to come up with a way to turn the tide.

Meanwhile, all Rail’s bombs had been confiscated. He looked right back at the middle-aged man who was watching him, and an indescribable unease began creeping up on him.

What? What’s with these guys?

They aren’t immortals. They’re just human, right?

And yet… Why? …Why are they so…?

Why are they so…terrifying?

They hadn’t done anything specific to him, either, and yet he could feel a scorching heat working its way up from the depths of his throat.

It wasn’t just the elderly man. He stood at the center of a group scattered around him like the spokes of a wheel, and every one of them, especially the apparently identical twin youths who stood flanking the leader, gave Rail a weird, indescribable sense that something was wrong.

The threat came from their mere presence.

Where they stood.

How they moved.

Their eyes.

The way they breathed.

All these subtle actions tangled together in complex ways, exerting an overwhelming pressure on the two captives in their net.

There was just one exception—a whey-faced man with shaggy hair and whiskers—who did nothing but tremble in a corner of the room. He didn’t inspire any significant fear, although technically, he probably wasn’t supposed to be there. After all, his presence did nothing to soften the atmosphere.

Either way, Rail had no intention of giving them any answers, but the overwhelming weight of the air made breathing itself seem difficult.

I have to blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up, I have to, I have to, aaaaaaaah, blow them up, blow them up, blow them up…

But… I can’t… I can’t.

The usual impulse reared its head inside him, but even that insanity was nearly suppressed by the reality in front of him. Plus, even if the impulse had won out over his fear, Rail didn’t currently have any explosives.

Then, the next instant…

…the pouch Rail had been wanting, the one that held his bombs, was set down on the table with a heavy thump.

“…!”

“What we’d like to ask you about…are these little fireworks you had.”

Rail and Nice narrowed their eyes, each thinking something different. They knew what was in that pouch.

At the same time, they began to faintly suspect those explosives were at the center of some sort of connection.

Then, the bespectacled old man calmly confirmed exactly what they’d been imagining.

“Let me give it to you straight. These fireworks were originally supposed to go to a friend of mine. Unfortunately, while they were being shipped over, they were stolen.”

Despite the oppressive mood, the old man was laying it on the line for them, maybe because he was dealing with kids.

However, the sweat on Nice’s back was getting worse.

All she’d told them last night was that her group was in town to meet a friend who’d gotten out of prison, they’d happened to find the injured Rail, and they’d been taking care of him. She’d neglected to tell them that one of the reasons they hadn’t turned him over to the police was the fact that they might have been the source of his bombs.

But if it were discovered that they were the thieves… The hardship and suffering that would befall them then would make the war with the Russo Family look like nothing. And the possibility that she’d live long enough to let Jacuzzi know about it was very close to zero.

As she imagined them gouging out her one good eye, stuffing a letter into the socket and delivering her corpse to Jacuzzi, she skipped right past trembling and went straight to nausea.

Ignoring Nice and her desperate attempts to hide her despair, the old man slowly got to his feet.

Gradually approaching Rail, he picked up where he’d left off, impassively.

“Well, the individual who wanted them the most has gone somewhere far away, so not having them didn’t bother us that much. However, if it turns out the city of Chicago was destroyed using goods we ordered, the story will be very different indeed…no matter how they came into your possession.” There was no pressure in his voice; he spoke to Rail as carefully as if he were reading him a picture book, letting the words themselves sink in. “For now, I’d like to make a deal with you. Fair and square. We’d like you to return all your remaining bombs to us. That’s all. Including the ones you have tucked away for safekeeping somewhere.”

“…!”

Apparently, they knew how many bombs there were in all.

He appeared to know both that the number of bombs used to blow up the Nebula facilities the other day was less than the full amount Rail had, and that the bombs currently sitting on the table wouldn’t be nearly enough to make up the difference.

They couldn’t possibly know how many he’d used in the past, so there were probably all sorts of ways for him to pull the wool over their eyes. Ordinarily, Rail would have been thinking of ways to trick them at this very moment.

Yet, as things stood, that lunatic impulse was eroding his very self, and the only thing rising in his heart was the base, instinctive fear that his bombs would be taken from him.

Could he settle this by simply switching back to his old explosives?

He’d be weaker than before; would he still be worth anything?

And worst of all—

Me, give in to a human?

To a plain old human, not even an immortal or a homunculus… An old guy like this?

We don’t age, but he’ll get old and die on his own even without our help. He’s less complete than we are. Give in to him…?

No!

If I let that happen… If I let it…

Chris will get…even further…away!

He respected the red-eyed fiend. He’d been proud to be a homunculus like him, but—if he yielded to a measly human, had his bombs taken away, and reverted to being a mere powerless child…would Chris even look his way again?

He didn’t think it out logically, but his complicated emotions arrived at that vague idea in an instant.

If the other option was to become an object of scorn even for humans…

If he couldn’t even save Frank—

Then I’ll die here.

If the world’s that hopeless, I’ll blow myself away.

It wasn’t a resolution, and he hadn’t gotten suicidally desperate.

It was simply that his drive to blow everything away had been fanned by the fear that surrounded him, then turned inward onto himself all at once.

“What do you say? I’m not asking you to do it for free, of course,” the old man asked gently, bringing his face closer to Rail’s.

Rail’s response was just one word.

“…No.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to fold…to lousy humans…like you.” He sounded slightly older than he looked.

The old man didn’t seem particularly flustered or angry. He wore a faint smile as he replied, “I see. You seem to have your own conviction, born of trauma. It’s a little flimsy, but considering your age, I’d say it more than qualifies as a conviction.”

He took another step toward Rail, closing the distance between their faces to about a foot and a half. Then, opening his own eyes just a little wider, he gazed into Rail’s large, doll-like eyes.

“Your current position frightens you.”

“…”

“You seem to grasp that your life is at risk if this goes badly, and yet you won’t so much as attempt to make a deal with us. You’re saying you’ll disregard death and choose your conviction instead. Is that right?”

Instead of answering, Rail spat at the old man’s face.

He’d already decided to die. He had the option of surviving, of paying back both humans and immortals and making Chris acknowledge him, of seeing his conviction through, but the resentful whispers inside him were blotting that option out.

The rude response actually made Rail feel better, but—

—the spit never reached the old man’s face.

A bodyguard type standing beside his employer whipped out a hand and caught it.

He closed his hand around the kid’s saliva without even wiping it off his palm, and his face was…perfectly expressionless.

It was actually very creepy, and the old man’s expression didn’t even change, as if this was business as usual for him. An unspeakable chill clung to Nice and Rail.

“At my age, I don’t have the energy to get angry about a little spit.” Smiling and shaking his head, the old man slowly returned to his own seat. “Frankly, I do know just a little about what you really are.”

“…!”

“?”

Rail and Nice each reacted differently. Rail glared, while Nice frowned in confusion as to what Rail would “really” be. She’d half concluded that what Rail really was was a bomb fiend like herself. As far as Nice was concerned, bombs were a relatively popular thing for kids to want—although her friends would probably have objected: “You think the world would survive with people like you all over the place?!” Naturally, this was true only in the world she lived in.

At any rate, now that he couldn’t even make them kill him, Rail had begun to consider other options. In that case, should he bite off his own tongue and die? Or would it be better to risk it, slip out of his ropes, and reach for that bag? But…

Abruptly, the door opened, and a new man entered. His cackling and cheery tone struck a sharp contrast with the tension.

“Hey there, sorry about that, Barty! It’s been a long time, huh! How’s your grandkid, lil’ Cazze? Doin’ good?”

The voice was completely inappropriate, and the bodyguard types frowned in disapproval, while the old man he’d called Barty sighed, shaking his head.

However, without paying the slightest attention to these wordless protests, the man responsible for shattering the tension gave an easygoing reply.

“My meetin’ ran late, see… Oh, hey. Is this the lil’ bomber you were talkin’ about? …Hmm? They’re both all scarred up. Which of ’em is it? …Whoops, sorry; ’scuse me if the scars are a sensitive subject. Personally, I think they ain’t a bad look. On either of ya.”

He was probably a little older than the bespectacled man.

Despite their similar ages, this man was the complete opposite of the one he’d called Barty.

From his smile, he seemed more like a mischievous, yet somewhat sophisticated child than a good-natured guy. As he entered, Nice’s mouth fell open, and Rail’s tension relaxed for just a moment.

“Cal… Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

“Aww, Barty, don’t be like that. C’mon, threatenin’ women and kiddies with all this muscle? Hey, sister, kid—no need to freeze up like that. Here, for starters, have some tea. Heeey! Get us some tea!”

So the man’s name was Cal. When he started calling for tea, the other man who’d entered the room with him bowed respectfully.

Oh!

Rail hadn’t seen his face, so he apparently hadn’t recognized him as the sugar-cube man who’d come to kidnap them the previous evening. The sight made Nice more and more confused about the present situation.

What’s going on…? These people probably belong to the mafia, but…this building… It’s the headquarters of Nebula, isn’t it? So who’s Cal?

She had the feeling that the chairman of Nebula had a similar name, but she shook her head. It couldn’t be him.

Indifferent to Nice’s confusion, Cal seemed to be having a grand old time as he said, “Well, this is great! Things are gettin’ real interesting around here! I sure wasn’t expectin’ you and your boys to show up, Barty!”

“…Beriam was nagging me. We were pretty startled ourselves when Rubik told us what was going on. After all, the bomber we’d been searching for incidentally was here, in the very same building.”

“What, Beriam? That greenhorn was here in Chicago until just a couple of days ago, y’know.”

Beriam? They can’t mean Senator Beriam, can they?

The name-drop only deepened Nice’s confusion, as Rail, who was tied up next to her, was desperately wriggling his hands and feet to get the ropes off during this opportunity.

“Oops, that’s no good.”

Noticing this, Cal hastily ran up to him—

—and in the blink of an eye, untied the ropes that bound his hands and feet.

“Huh…?”

Rail, who’d been released before he knew what was happening, froze at the abruptness of it all. His bomb pouch was only a few yards away, but he forgot to reach for it.

Plopping in the chair beside him, Cal grinned at him and murmured, “Now, then. First, I owe you an apology. Sorry ’bout all that.”

“?”

Rail grew even more confused, but Cal kept on saying whatever he wanted to. Barty was gazing quietly out the window, and his bodyguards had temporarily eased up on the intimidation.

“See, one of my people has been causin’ all sorts of trouble for you.”

“? ? ?”

“Well, I’ll make her go apologize later… Whaddaya say? Want to cut that Huey fella loose and come work for my company?”

“…?!”

What did he just say?

Rail was so confused his suture-scarred face went wooden. His mouth was flapping uselessly in a perfect imitation of an oxygen-starved goldfish, but even then, Rail was running through ideas about the other man’s identity.

One of his people…? Who?

If there was anyone who’d caused him trouble lately—although “trouble” didn’t begin to cover it…

Just before Rail’s mind arrived at the answer…

…that very answer walked into the room.

The door opened without a knock, and from behind it appeared…

“President, what’s this ‘business’ you mentioned? I may not look like it, but I am busy, you know? I have so many people to abduct, and…”

…a beautiful, bespectacled woman with a magnificent figure, dressed in a lab coat.

“…”

Five or six researchers followed the bespectacled woman in, and—was it his imagination?—one of them seemed to look at Rail and react before anybody else.

“Huh?”

Then the woman with glasses—Renee—and Rail recognized each other, and…

…the crazy ruckus began all at once.

Somewhere in Chicago

“Found him…,” Ricardo said abruptly.

“Hmm? What’s up, Ricardo?” Christopher glanced at her as he ate his late breakfast.

“Rail. I knew it… He’s inside Nebula headquarters!”

“…”

“He just ran into that group in lab coats again. Tension’s running really high.”

The explanation was so sudden it seemed as if she was picking up radio waves, but Christopher didn’t doubt her.

“What are you going to do, Chris? Are you going to abandon him like last time?”

“Let’s see…” Christopher’s answer was very blasé. However, he stood up, cramming one of his homemade madeleines into his mouth and washing it down with milk. “All I did last time was make him choose. I didn’t abandon him.”

There was still time before they had to meet Sickle and the Poet.

“Besides, I fought Graham to avenge Sickle and Chi, remember?”

“You said that as more of an afterthought, but…you’re right.”

After the unnecessary retort, Ricardo agreed with him, and Christopher went on in his usual tone.

“In that case, I have to get revenge on that group in lab coats for Rail and Frank, too.”

Speaking with no hesitation, Christopher started out of their lodgings, car key in hand.

As she followed him, Ricardo murmured quietly. “Say, Chris? You’ve changed a bit over the past year.”

Christopher caught the comment from behind him, and for a little while, he reflected on who he’d been a year ago.

Then, nodding to acknowledge Ricardo’s point, he laughed.

“That’s probably because of you.”

Somewhere in Chicago

Sickle and the Poet had decided to spend the time before their rendezvous gathering information in town.

Since the explosions had occurred only at Nebula-related facilities, they knew there was some sort of connection between Rail and Nebula.

That said, whether they used the power of the Poet’s eyes or Sickle’s brute force, charging into the conglomerate’s headquarters would have been unacceptably reckless.

It didn’t seem as though any members of the party they were meeting would have any pull with Nebula. They were walking through the crowd, feeling completely cornered, when—

—out of the blue, someone tapped Sickle on the shoulder.

“Nn…?”

She didn’t sense any murderous intent, but she kept her guard up as she turned around—

—and then she stiffened.

“Hmm?”

Startled by Sickle’s sudden tension, the Poet hastily glanced in that direction as well.

And what he saw there was…

Somewhere in Chicago An abandoned factory

Nice and the others were at Nebula headquarters.

The information had come like a bolt from the blue.

Graham’s henchman Shaft had said he’d found a Russo Family survivor in town and learned about it from him.

“Yeah… Sounds like that group in lab coats brought them the wanted poster. From what I hear, they were from the pharmaceutical R & D, in Nebula’s basement. So if you go there, you should be able to find out about that Rail kid, at least!”

A stir had run through Jacuzzi’s group at the news, and they’d decided to go check it out immediately. However…

…although he was the only one, Graham had looked as though something had caught in his throat.

After Jacuzzi and the others had raced off for Nebula headquarters, Graham’s group left the abandoned factory as well.

“…”

“What’s the matter, Mr. Graham? You’re oddly subdued. This never happens. It’s creepy.”

At Shaft’s reckless remark, Graham glanced at him.

“Let me…tell a story that’s just for you,” he murmured, smacking his wrench.

His voice was so low that only Shaft, who was walking beside him, could hear it.

“My story, by me, just for you, Shaft. A closed story. You don’t need to tell it to the other guys, and it wouldn’t mean much to the world.”

“What, Mr. Graham? Is this the time?”

“Shaft… Listen, pal.”

Glaring at his underling’s face, Graham spun the wrench with another smack— And muttered in an ominous voice:

“Don’t go thinkin’ I ain’t got eyes.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Take yesterday, for example. When you took us to that bar. Did you think I’d write that off as coincidence?”

“…”

There was a moment of silence.

Shaft opened his mouth to respond, but Graham talked right over him. “Don’t say anything. Right now, rescuing Nice and her friends comes first… They’re probably there at Nebula’s headquarters, yeah?”

“Mr. Graham…”

“I told you, I got eyes.”

Smiling with amusement—Graham lightly thumped Shaft on the back with his enormous wrench.

“And they’re tellin’ me to trust ya. Lucky you.”

Alcatraz Island Recreation yard

There was a sharp pain, followed by a nasty warmth covering his face.

He didn’t even have to check to recognize it as his own blood.

By the time the pain started turning into heat, he felt the liquid dripping from his face begin to squirm.

The drops of blood on his hand were flowing smoothly back to the gashes.

Firo covered the wound with his hand for a little while, staying wary of the wheeling flock of birds until the squirming had stopped completely.

Don’t tell me…

It can’t be. I mean, it’s probably the same logic as that Sham guy, but…

The possibility of taking over the minds of birds wasn’t even in Szilard’s knowledge.

When he couldn’t feel the blood moving anymore, Firo took his hand away, but for some reason, the pain was still there…

…and he couldn’t see out of his left eye.

“…—!”

That little…! It took my eye!

Realizing what had happened, Firo glared up at the sky with his one remaining eye.

“Let’s start with a little payback.” The woman’s voice echoed, seemingly sourceless.

Realizing that one of the circling birds had peeled off from the flock and was rapidly flying away, Firo glared at it.

He got the feeling that the falcon was holding a marbled red and white something in its talons, but he couldn’t focus well with just one eye, and there was no way for him to tell what it was for certain.

That said, he was still positive.

It was his own left eye.

He gritted his teeth, just as he glimpsed a shadow in motion out of the corner of his right eye.

Hastily, he jumped back—and immediately afterward, a nearly twenty-inch something punched through the space where his head had just been.

Swooping up just before it hit the ground, it sketched a beautiful arc back into the sky.

That thing’s fast…!

They say that when falcons target prey, their flight speeds can exceed a hundred and twenty miles per hour.

It had probably slowed down before its talons reached Firo to keep from crashing into the ground, but even so, its speed was more than fast enough to count as an attack with lethal intent.

Firo was getting a bad feeling about this, so instead of staying where he was, he leaped to the side to keep moving.

The next instant, a rapid succession of several shapes again streaked right through the spot where he’d been.

He almost thought he could hear a whistling sound as they sliced through the air.

Panicking a little, he broke into a run, but a new shadow dropped into a steep dive as if it was trying to intercept him. It sank its talons squarely into Firo’s shoulder—and used the momentum as it swooped away to tear out the whole chunk.

“Ghk…” Stifling a scream in his throat, he rolled to the side, then got to his feet with the recreation yard wall at his back.

He might be immortal, but he couldn’t do much if his flesh was stripped away. In that last attack, the meat seemed to have slipped out of the bird’s talons, but if they kept gouging chunks out of him and carrying them off, he’d eventually be an unconscious, skeletal corpse.

Not good…

The effect of losing one eye was worse than he’d imagined.

It wasn’t just that his depth perception was gone. Now that he’d completely lost half his field of vision, would he be able to keep avoiding the plunging, slashing malice coming at him from nearly every direction?

And although the intermittent jolts of pain were gradually subsiding—they were making it impossible to calm down and think.

I’d rather stand in a circle of military-grade machine guns a million times over, dammit.

Firo was under attack from all sorts of fears, but even so, he didn’t scream.

I’m probably… Yeah, I am.

Admit it, Firo. Right now, you’re scared as hell.

But…if I can just swallow it down…I can get past it.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run.

His instincts were telling him to, but Firo separated those emotions from his logical mind—and managed to keep his cool as he muttered at the sky, “Hey. You think we could maybe just…call ourselves even now?”

The woman’s voice echoed down over him, as if the flock of birds was an enormous speaker.

“…‘Call it even’?”

The next moment, passionate rage filled the woman’s sultry voice.

“Don’t be stupid!”

“…”

“Call it even? Even, you said?! You’re disgusting! There’s no such thing when it comes to you and Father! Even if I gouged out both your eyes and dug your heart out of your chest and stripped off all your skin, it wouldn’t be worth Father’s eye! Not even a single strand of his hair! You shouldn’t exist—you shouldn’t even get to be nothing! You should be less than nothing, and I won’t be satisfied until your existence is as negative as it can get!”

“…You sound like a crazy white supremacist who just wants to deck a black guy, and your logic’s even worse.”

As he responded to her, Firo was keeping an eye on his surroundings.

The other inmates seemed to have noticed that the flock of birds was acting strange quite a while ago. Not only that, but some of the falcons were actually attacking the other cons as well, almost trying to herd them into the prison.

Panicking, the inmates gave up their free time, scrambling to evacuate into the building.

A few of the prisoners gamely beat back the birds, but the guards near the entrance pressed them to hurry up and get to shelter, and they disappeared through the doors.

And yet, for some reason, the guards in the recreation yard seemed to be ignoring Firo.

It was likely that the handful of officers he could see from here were all Sham.

He didn’t know whether the guy had discussed it with the woman’s voice—and the mind behind it, which probably belonged to the little girl Ladd had dragged in a few days ago—but either way, Sham wasn’t going to save him.

Not that Firo had ever expected a shred of help from him.

“Waaaaaaugh! What the hell?! What’s with these things?!”

Just then, Firo heard a familiar voice screaming, and a shape tumbled up to the wall beside him.

It was Dragon. His tattooed arms were bloodied, and faking a groan, he whispered in Firo’s ear.

“Leeza doesn’t know this body is Sham’s, see.”

“…”

“Help me out, a’ight? Act like I’m just a hitman.”

What is this, a comedy sketch?

Firo was exasperated, but he understood what Sham was saying.

When he looked over, he saw a concentrated attack on the large black man and the little white one in the distance. Unlike the other prisoners, the attacks seemed to be driving them away from the building.

The plan was probably to get rid of everyone who’d been in that room.

How’s Ladd doing?

He looked around cautiously, staying wary of the airborne birds, but the violent, fiendish man was nowhere to be seen. Firo hadn’t seen him earlier, either; it was likely he hadn’t been in the yard to begin with.

Okay, what do I do? …It looks like they’re not dumb enough to dive into the wall, at least.

The top of the wall was fitted with barbed wire to deter escape attempts, and the top of the wire section slanted inward over the yard. This way, he could block sharp dives from above and the sides, and if they flew straight at him to avoid the barbed wire, they’d crash into the wall.

That should buy him some time. Firo felt just a little relieved, but—

“…You wish,” one of the falcons taunted darkly.

“Wh-what’s that?! A dame’s voice?!”

Bewildered, Dragon looked around, but to Firo—who knew what was going on—the act was incredibly obvious.

Naturally, he couldn’t point that out—and he wasn’t given the time to try. As Leeza had said, Firo was becoming keenly aware how naïve his hope had been.

Hey, c’mon, you’ve gotta be kidding.

Several of the falcons were circling at great speed, high in the air, holding something in their talons.

By the time he realized that the objects were sharp, gleaming, ring-shaped blades, it was too late.

Firo flung his arms into a cross over his face just before the silver chakrams plunged into them.

Nebula headquarters The corridor outside a conference room

“…Um, Vice President… What’s going on?”

“Do not be inarticulate when you ask your questions. It telegraphs your anxiety to the other party.”

“Well, I am anxious! I really have no idea what’s happening!” Carol shrieked quietly, hiding in the shadow of a pillar. Her eyes were tearing up.

For his part, Gustav was standing with dignity, examining a painting that hung in the corridor.

“Hmm. This is another Strassburg. There is the sculpture outside the front entrance as well; they seem quite fond of him.”

“Please don’t change the subject! A-anyway! Why did the chairman go into the room with the mafia bigwigs? And why did Miss Renee go in after them?!”

As she’d watched the situation play out over the past few minutes, Carol had done nothing but gape, and the combination of intimidation and confusion had generated an anxiety that felt ready to explode.

However, even though the vice president had seen the exact same events, he responded with perfect composure.

“For the most part, I can offer a conjecture. Miss Renee had no connection with the Runorata Family. It’s likely she intends to establish one, or perhaps she has started some sort of trouble which she now intends to resolve.”

“Huh… Wh-why would Miss Renee…?” Carol couldn’t even imagine a connection between the Runorata Family and the blithe woman she’d spoken to in the hall the other day, but she gave it a little thought and then ventured, “D-don’t tell me she’s manufacturing drugs…?”

“One thousand, two hundred and ninety-seven points. A decent line of thinking, but the Runoratas already have a first-rate compounder.”

“Then why…?”

“Hmm. It would take rather a long time to explain. However, I expect I should tell you before we lunch with Mr. Bartolo,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Carol blanched. “Um… That lunch… You mean…I’m going, too?”

“I shall request that they include you.”

“Why?! You don’t have to request that, really! I’ll skip lunch today!”

“? I’m certain I informed you that one of the objectives of our journey was to introduce you to our customers.”

At the vice president’s calm reply, the girl’s hands shook, gripping the camera tightly, and then—

—the trembling stopped as the sound of gunshots echoed through the spacious floor.

And providing the harmony to their ensemble was the blast of a violent explosion.

A few minutes earlier The conference room

The encounter had been completely unexpected for both parties, and time froze for both Rail and the white-coat-clad researchers.

After a short silence…

…oblivious to the mood around her, the woman at the center of the group in lab coats murmured carefreely.

“Hmmmmm? Um… Why are you here, Rail?” she asked with bewilderment in her eyes.

Nice frowned as if she were wondering who the woman was. Chairman Cal beamed, and the mafiosi stayed silent, their expressions unchanged.

…And Rail began moving on reflex.

I’ll blow her away.

Someone on his list of people to destroy had appeared, someone who outranked even his own world, and Rail leaped out of his chair without a thought for the consequences and reached for the pouch that sat on the table.

If nobody else, at least her, her, her…!

Ordinarily, the mafia bodyguards would have restrained Rail, putting an end to the matter before his hand got there.

However, one white-coat-clad man had pulled a handgun from inside his coat and pointed it at Rail, and this changed destiny in a big way.

“Don’t move.”

The instant the man in the lab coat drew his piece, another was pressed to his temple. One of the mafia guards had spotted the sudden introduction of a weapon and reacted with astounding speed.

For a brief moment, the attention of the other bodyguards shifted to the man who’d pulled his gun.

And so…he made it.

He got there.

Rail slid his right hand into the pouch’s mouth—and one of the guards tried to stop him.

Except the man in the lab coat got in the way. Despite the order not to move, he fired.

The moment his finger twitched, the mafioso plugged him in the temple—but his finger kept going, and squeezed down on the trigger.

The shot to his head had thrown off his aim, and the slug went past the tip of Rail’s nose, grazing the arm of the guard who was trying to hold the bag down.

“…!”

The bullet tore open his skin, and on reflex, he jerked back slightly.

Seizing his chance, Rail quickly pulled out a grenade, yanked the pin, and hurled it at the group in lab coats all in one smooth motion.

However, he’d apparently thrown it too hard. The bomb went right through the white-coat-clad group…

…and when it had rolled all the way into the hall, a loud roar echoed through the Nebula building.

The corridor

“Yeeep?!”

At the sudden explosion farther down the hall, Carol rolled, shielding her camera.

As the hot wind reached them, Gustav grabbed Carol’s collar and dragged her behind a pillar.

Just a few seconds later, after the wave of heat had swept past them…the girl slowly poked her head out from behind the pillar, and tried to see through her tears what was happening.

“Wha…? What’s g—? What the heck is going on here?!”

As Carol screamed, she saw a couple of figures running through the cloud of smoke.

Even at a distance, she could spot the suture scars on the small one’s face—

—and she knew who it was at a glance.

“…Rail?!”

In a certain guest room

“What was that…?”

Hearing the gunshots and explosion in the building, a man wearing a suit got up from his chair.

Reaching into his jacket, he hastily started out of the room.

“’Scuse me,” he called toward the corner. “I’m stepping out for a bit, but don’t even think about running away. Not that you could, I guess.”

“Mmmmm! Mmmmm!”

The man was looking at Miria, who was gagged and bound hand and foot.

“Y’know, most people get scared if you wave a gun at ’em…”

The threat apparently hadn’t been enough to make her settle down, and the state she’d ended up in was like something out of a classic comedy. The Nebula men hadn’t really planned on shooting, but they hadn’t expected her to kick up that much of a fuss. The guard grumbled. But then several more gunshots rang out, and he dashed out in a mild panic.

The moment the door opened, another volley of shots sounded, so he booked it down the hall.

From the corner of the room, Miria couldn’t see what was happening at the entrance, but she heard the guard leave without locking the door. “Iyaag…” she moaned, then started twisting and struggling to get the ropes off no matter what it took.

She knocked over shelves and chairs and more in the process, but the noise was drowned out by more gunshots, and the guard who’d left the room didn’t hear.

Instead, the din carried right into the room next door.

In a certain guest room

Even as she listened to the distant explosions and gunshots, Lua, who’d been left in a room by herself, was strangely calm.

Maybe it was because she’d seen death right up close many times, but she wasn’t particularly frightened. In the midst of the echoing reports, she was remembering the incident on the Flying Pussyfoot.

Just when it seemed as though that red monster would kill her, Ladd Russo had jumped off the train to save her.

As she remembered her beloved, who had kept promising he’d kill her even after the incident, the shadow of a gentle smile appeared on Lua’s wan face.

It was an odd expression to see amid all the gunshots. Before long, though, it turned dubious.

She’d heard a heavy thud, as though something had fallen over.

The sound had clearly come to her through the wall, and its source seemed to be somewhere away from the roar of the gunshots and explosions—in other words, in a room very close by.

“…?”

When she put her ear to the wall, she heard the sound of some sort of struggle, and something like a moaning voice.

Maybe someone’s sick and in pain.

Seeming to decide that this was important, Lua fearlessly stepped out of the room, then knocked on the neighboring door that led to the apparent source of the noise.

However, there was no response. After a little hesitation, she slowly reached for the knob.

It didn’t seem to be locked, and the door opened so easily it was almost disappointing. Then, immediately, Lua heard groans and the sound of some sort of scuffle.

Quietly, she took a step into the suite, peering into a second room at its back.

When she did, she saw a woman in a red dress, tied hand and foot, moaning in her desperate struggle to undo the ropes that bound her.

Ten minutes later In front of the Nebula headquarters building

“All right… We’re all here. Great. What do we do now?”

The great building was so grandiose it seemed nearly painted over with the word, and in front of it stood a group of young people who were anything but.

It was impossible to imagine they were gainfully employed, and they were too young to be a group of laid-off workers holding a demonstration.

In the center of this pack of delinquents, a tattooed young man—Jacuzzi—spoke to Graham, who was spinning his wrench with great pomp and circumstance beside him.

“Listen, Graham? I-is there any way to find out what it’s like in there?”

The group had only just assembled, and they didn’t know about the ruckus inside. At the moment, they were trying to figure out how to get in. It was about time for Isaac to arrive at the station. For the moment, they’d sent Nick and Jack to meet him, but they had to rescue Miria, Nice, and that scarred kid before they met up again, no matter what.

Swearing he would do just that in his heart, Jacuzzi watched for Graham’s response, but…

“…I don’t have a brilliant idea, but here’s a hint. Let me tell you a story that’s a hint.”

The only people with Graham were Shaft, who was behind him, and a few underlings. He gazed up at the white skyscraper, beginning to speak with a rapturous expression.

“A long time back, my esteemed brother Ladd marched into this building all on his lonesome, coldcocked all the guards, and got all the way up to the chairman’s office. They say the chairman took a shine to him, and he got off scot-free. It’s a magnificent thing, I tell ya, both my man Ladd’s moxie and the chairman’s big heart… And I hear they still have that same chairman.”

“I—I have a few nits to pick with your story, but, um… What are you getting at?”

“I propose that we take the best of our best, charge all the way up to the chairman’s office, and get him to take a shine to us.”

“Aaaaaaaaah! No, no way, absolutely not!” He grabbed Graham’s collar and shook him back and forth, crying.

The atmosphere around them was the same as ever—until suddenly, things got strangely noisy nearby.

“…?”

For some reason, people were beginning to swarm out of the building at a run.

Come to think of it, on their way over, Jacuzzi had thought he’d heard something like faint gunshots and explosions. But he’d prioritized getting to the Nebula headquarters building, and here they were.

“I wonder what’s going on.”

Just as Jacuzzi sensed a disturbance in the air…

…behind him, he heard the sound of an engine, and a luxury car stopped on the street beside the headquarters.

The individual who climbed out was—

“…The red-eyed bastard, huh?”

Seeing Christopher and Ricardo get out of the car, Graham narrowed his eyes behind his bangs.

Uncharacteristically, Ricardo came running up to Jacuzzi’s crew. “Miss Nice and the others are inside that building!”

“Huh…?”

Wondering what the kid was saying all of a sudden, Jacuzzi’s eyes swam in confusion. “Y-you’re, um…? How do you know they’re inside the…?”

“They’re on their way from a conference room on the thirtieth floor to the roof, right now! Hurry!”

Looking tense, Ricardo shouted out their location as if he was watching the events play out in real time.

Caught in the kid’s momentum, the delinquents looked up at the Nebula building, too, and just then—

—the first gunshots in several minutes echoed from the Chicago sky. If those had come from the upper levels of the building, that meant…

By the time they realized the reason behind the hullabaloo around them, the number of evacuees had grown significantly, and they began picking up comments like “That explosion…” from the crowd.

“Hey, Jacuzzi! This is…” One of the delinquents hastily turned to the group’s leader, but Jacuzzi was already gone.

“Huh?!” The only one who thought he was running from the gunshots was Christopher.

Anyone who was even a little bit familiar with Jacuzzi looked in the direction they figured he must have gone, and there he was.

“Nice…!”

His tears flowing and his face a pitiful mess, Jacuzzi was the first one to break into a run toward the building’s entrance. Pushing his way upstream through the crowd flowing from the headquarters, Jacuzzi vanished inside.

When they saw this, the gang of delinquents’ usual clamor stopped dead, and for just a moment, they shared a grin.

There was no telling who started it. Somebody began grinning, and somebody else muttered “Guess we gotta do this, huh?” and then they began disappearing through the building’s revolving door, one after another.

People were pushing their way in now with just as much force as the people pushing their way out, and the revolving door spun at a dizzying pace.

Left behind, Graham, his underlings, Christopher, and Ricardo looked at one another.

Christopher was the first to break the silence. He dropped a hand lightly onto Ricardo’s head and smiled at Graham.

“Well, let’s call a truce for today… Is that all right?”

“For today, yeah.”

“If there are gunshots, I assume that means there’s danger inside?”

Ricardo answered Christopher without hesitating. “The group in lab coats from yesterday are fighting with some mafia types. The lab coats only have handguns, though.”

“I see. Well then, might as well go get a little payback for Rail and Frank!” Christopher said as if he was about to go for a walk, stretching his back.

Beside him, Graham grinned and twirled his enormous wrench. “All right… I guess I’ll go help Jacuzzi and his pals, and tell a fun story while I’m at it.”

Then he addressed Shaft and the others behind him in his usual way.

“A united front… Former enemies joining forces to confront one giant enemy. I’d say it’s an impressive feat, but should I really just accept the idea? I mean, what I actually want—what I want so terribly, horribly, supremely, ridiculously badly that I can hardly stand it—is to settle the score with Red-Eyes here! I let my man Ladd have the redhead, so I at least want to finish things with Red-Eyes myself… But shouldn’t I prioritize going to help Jacuzzi and the gang over my own feelings and settle the score with my own fate instead? Hey, did I say something right, just now? Did I?”

“Let’s just go help already.”

As Shaft put in a perfectly natural retort, Christopher cocked his head slightly and asked a question.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about since yesterday.”

“…What? We’re heading out.”

Graham had already started walking, and Christopher matched his pace as he headed for the building as well. Both were careful not to make eye contact with each other.

“This redheaded fellow you keep mentioning. Is he an extremely self-centered…? Hmm, how should I put it…? Does he seem a bit cracked?”

“…Friend of yours?”

“No. Don’t know much about him, and I don’t care to.”

Christopher shook his head, smiling wryly, then spread his arms wide and raised his voice to help himself forget about something.

“All right, let’s sing an ode to this marvelous chaos! Chaos is a perfectly natural act that people can engineer themselves! All right, onward we go.   Over the mountain of chaos, lu-la-la-la-la-laaaa.  ”

Glancing at the red-eyed monster, who was singing merrily, Graham muttered in a voice that was unusually low energy.

“…You’ve got lousy taste in songs, you know that?”

“Wow, thank you. Now I’ve got one more reason to fight with you!”

Laughing, Christopher disappeared into the headquarters. Hot on his heels, Ricardo also plunged into the dangerous building.

However, there was one thing.

Just one small sense that something was off.

Right before she headed for the building, Ricardo had looked at Shaft with a complicated expression on her face, but…

…it went unnoticed by anyone who would have felt that this was strange—and then they were inside and out of sight.

Alcatraz Island Recreation yard

“…Enough already.”

“My, my. Surrendering? Are you begging for your life? Oh, I’d like to hear that from an immortal.”

The sultry voice echoed from the sky, as greasy sweat dripped down Firo’s cheeks.

“Unfortunately, begging birds for my life goes against my code. As of right now.”

Tugging out the silver ring embedded in his right arm, Firo gave a wry smile that was partly sheer bravado.

Each leg had a silver ring sticking out of it as well. From the front, he looked as if he’d been crucified. They hadn’t gone all the way through, of course, but the ring that had bitten into his shin had definitely reached bone.

“…!”

Taking care not to scream, he bent forward, then yanked the silver rings out of both legs at the same time.

“…Ghk!”

A shock of violent pain shot through him. Even his uninjured spine and sides were screaming, and the subsiding ache in his eye flared up again.

And in that moment of vulnerability, yet another ring flew in and sank into his shoulder.

There was no telling how she was using the birds’ legs to add spin, but his prison uniform was worthless as armor. It had never been intended to act as anything of the sort, but Firo wished he’d at least worn his coat.

His wounds regenerated quickly, but the chakrams just kept coming.

In an attempt to get in a hit of his own, he lobbed one of the rings at the sky, but he had no practice with them and couldn’t throw it well.

“Wh-what’s going on?! What the hell this?!”

“Oh, yes, that’s right… There’s something I want to ask all of you.”

“Yeee?!”

Dragon’s fear looked contrived, but the bird-voice didn’t seem at all suspicious of it. She had the composure of someone who had an overwhelming advantage.

“Who ordered you to bring them Father’s eye? They say one of the guards has already returned to the mainland, and they don’t know where he’s gone. At this point, I have no choice but to ask the four of you.”

“I—I know nothing! The guy pretending to be the guard was the boss; we just got our orders from him…”

Yeesh. What a rotten actor.

To Firo, who knew about Sham’s situation, this was a total farce.

However, if Leeza was going along with that to get them to spill what they knew, they might be able to get through this by using the torture to buy time.

It was likely that the inmates who’d gone inside were kicking up a ruckus now, and that guards who weren’t Sham were on their way to give a report to the higher-ups.

If real guards assembled here, the guard Shams who were currently just standing by would be forced to spring into action, and the woman would have to withdraw.

Thinking this, Firo decided to watch the situation play out, but—

“Okay, then you can go off and die.”

It was a truly innocent voice.

She’d been speaking with a maturity that matched the sultry timbre, but it had seemed to be gradually growing more and more childish. With her final sentence, the childishness suddenly took over—and a man’s low scream echoed from the other side of the recreation yard.

When he looked, he saw the little white man. Like Firo, chakrams had sunk into his arms and legs. Then the big black man’s body sprouted multiple silver rings as well, and several more bore down on Dragon.

“Yeek?!”

Dragon managed to dive to the side and avoid them, but he didn’t seem to have much physical stamina left.

Mentally, though, he probably wasn’t suffering very much.

But still… She’s not even going to negotiate?

Firo stared wide-eyed at the flock of falcons. Seeing his expression, Leeza sent her beguiling child’s voice down at him.

“Oh? Surprised I ended our talk so easily?”

“…Not really. Isn’t your dad gonna get mad at you for being so touchy?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I just won’t tell him.”

“…”

A flock of birds, speaking like a child, but in a sensuous voice.

The deeply disturbing sight gave Firo a chill even as he sarcastically commented, “You sure are focused on us. You must really love your dad.”

“Uh-huh. I’m disappointed, though. I wanted to torture that Ladd guy to death, too, since he hit me… But my sister and Vino will take care of him for me, so I’ll control myself!”

“Huh?”

Whoa, wait, hold it. Hold on a second.

His friend’s name had been coming up in odd ways ever since he set foot on the island, but this time, he really couldn’t hide his confusion. True, Ladd had hinted that he knew Claire as well, but why would Leeza know that name? And what did it have to do with killing Ladd?

The sister she mentioned… I guess it really is that Chané doll, huh?

That idiot’s not gettin’ suckered by his girl, is he?

Firo knew almost nothing about Chané, and for a moment, he worried that a relative of Huey’s might be using his childhood friend, but—

Well, he’ll probably find a way to deal with it.

And honestly… Right now, my situation is a whole lot dicier than his.

“Besides, I don’t have any time left.”

“? Whaddaya mean no…time?”

The next instant—the birds swooped dramatically into action.

The flock split in two, forming ranks, and then wheeled in from the left and right to form a circle around the roof of the prison.

And then Firo saw it.

Up on the cold, hard lines of the prison roof stood a small figure.

The little girl dressed in white was familiar to Firo.

“I haven’t met you in this form since…I was asleep, maybe.”

She’s…showing up in person?

The girl on the roof was smiling fearlessly, but her voice still came from somewhere in the flock of falcons.

As Firo glared at her, the girl shook her head with mild disappointment.

“It’s a shame, since we just met…but I have to leave this island now.”

“You what?”

“I just told you. I’m leaving the island,” she replied indifferently.

At that, Firo envisioned a certain situation.

If she was leaving this island—then it was possible that Huey would be breaking out with her.

He didn’t know how they’d do it, but they had several guards on their side. If Sham played innocent and helped them with the jailbreak, they’d probably manage to leave the island without trouble.

…If it happens, does that mean my mission failed?

“So let’s say we finish this at our leisure, after you get out of jail. For now, I’ll just tear chunks of meat from all over your body and let you go. I bet your life’s gonna get a lot harder, but…well, serves you right!”

Leeza’s innocent tone was gradually growing heavier as she threatened him.

And then she continued.

That was all she did.

Up until that instant, at least, she’d held an unquestionable upper hand. Firo had understood that he was at an overwhelming disadvantage.

Sham had even said the exact same thing to him earlier.

However, the muttered words were utterly serious, dripping with genuine murderous intent.

She said something she should never, ever have said.

“You can try to resist, but if you do…I’ll do the same thing to everyone you love!”

“…”

The next moment—

—Firo felt his own heart cool down to an astonishing degree.

It was as if a gust of wind had swept through his head, clearing away all the unnecessary haze.

“Hey… Kid.”

His voice was surprisingly quiet. The instant she heard it, an unidentifiable chill ran through Leeza’s heart.

“Wh…? What?”

The aura around the man beneath her gaze was clearly different now.

He wasn’t glaring up at her with his one remaining eye, and he wasn’t begging for his life. He was just watching her, simply watching with that frigid eye, gleaming darkly, cold enough to freeze her solid.

“When it comes to my personal fights, I think takin’ hostages is for scumbags. If I get orders from the top to do it, then I might. In a fight between syndicates, I could do it to cut down on the bloodshed, or even just for the sake of profit. I’m prepared to get my hands dirty then. But in my own fights, I think pulling that crap is rotten and low.”

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I care what you think of me…”

“But. Listen to me.”

Completely ignoring Leeza, Firo went on impassively.

The lack of hesitation in his voice compelled her to understand: What he was saying right now was in all likelihood the immutable truth.

“If you mess with my family, I’ll get as rotten as I have to.”

“…”

Leeza was completely overwhelmed, and for the first time, she realized something.

The emotion she was feeling was fear.

“The moment you lay a finger on them—I’m gonna make a decision.”

Firo’s face was as blank as a puppet’s, and he’d rid his face of emotion so thoroughly it made Leeza wonder whether she was really speaking with a comprehending human being.

Only one impulse was left inside him.

“I’ll decide…to bring pain to Huey Laforet.”

“…! I—I won’t let you do th—”

“If I have to hide in the bottom of an outhouse, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes, I’ll find him. Even if it takes a thousand years, or ten thousand years, I will corner him, and I will make him suffer.”

Firo quietly gazed at his right hand with his remaining eye, and made himself clear in a barely audible voice.

“And then I’ll eat him.”

That was all.

It wasn’t a threat or anything like it. It was just a simple statement. However, it held an unmistakable, terribly pure intent to kill.

“…N-no… You can’t… I-I’ll never…let you do…that.”

“I don’t need your permission. If you drive me to that decision, that will be the end—of everything.”

The conversation had been too brief to count as a negotiation, but Leeza felt an overpowering terror of Firo’s aura.

She absolutely had to get rid of this man.

But… But could she?

If she messed up, if she blew it somehow…

If she didn’t stop him right here, it was likely she’d never manage it, not ever.

Leeza’s soul understood this—and she stopped moving entirely.

Her composed smile had vanished, and she stayed silent for a while, paralyzed.

Next to Firo, Dragon also froze up, unable to speak, as did the other Sham-possessed prisoners and guards.

A mere ten seconds of silence felt like hours.

Just as Leeza couldn’t take it anymore and attempted to speak, something changed in the recreation yard.

The prison door slowly opened, and a figure appeared from inside the building.

“…This is free time, yeah?” The man briefly spoke to one of the petrified guards, then pushed the door open farther as he slowly announced, “…Comin’ out.”

The moment the man stuck his face out all the way, a stir ran through the airborne flock of falcons.

Chuckling deep in his throat, he stepped outside, letting his iron prosthetic arm dangle limply.

He looked around, taking note of the white man and the black man who were groaning near the perimeter; of the flock of birds; of Firo, minus one eye; of the frightened Dragon beside him; and of the girl standing at the edge of the roof.

“I see…”

As he savored the frozen tension, the man—Ladd Russo—plastered a vicious smile across his face, as if to declare his enjoyment of that very chill.

Setting his sights on the girl and the flock of birds, Ladd let his whole body fill with a murderous intent that was—unlike Firo at the moment—cold and boiling all at once. Then he murmured a simple remark.

Smiling and smiling, he said…

“Now, that… That looks like someone worth killing.”

Nebula headquarters The conference room

Although it was superficial, the room held definite evidence of an explosion.

The first explosion had made the white-coat-clad individuals duck and cover, or had blown them away, and right after, Nice—the first to recover from the confusion—had grabbed Rail’s hand and raced out of the room.

The group in lab coats had chased after them, guns in hand, and after a short pause, a flustered Renee had followed.

Then the only people in the room were the two old men and the group of shady characters…plus the man in the lab coat who’d been shot through the temple.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bartolo Runorata muttered in a flat voice. The window glass behind him was cracked.

Possibly because some of the panes had been opened for ventilation, the glass had miraculously escaped with no more than cracks, and no one seemed to have collapsed from a lack of oxygen.

The moment Rail had thrown his bomb, the bodyguards had kicked a table into the air, instantly creating a shield to protect Bartolo from the blast wind. As a result, they were unscathed.

That said, a bomb with lethal force had exploded very near him, and yet Bartolo hadn’t even turned a hair. The men in his bodyguard detail were looking at him with renewed respect.

Meanwhile, Chairman Cal had also been standing behind the defensive wall and was equally unscathed. “I tell ya, I thought I was a goner,” he murmured, smiling.

The question Bartolo had sent at him could have been taken as disapproving.

But Cal just gave an exaggerated wave of his hands and explained.

“Ah, sorry ’bout that. If my employee hadn’t pulled his gun there, things would never have gotten this hairy. I’ll compensate your boy with the wounded arm for as much as you want. We can’t have that gettin’ infected, so you better get yourself down to the infirmary. It’s on the first floor; want me to call ahead for you?”

“Answer my question. Never mind me; one false step and I could have lost some very good men.”

“…Your men are more important than you are?”

“I have no intention of dying, but in the event that I do, there’s no need for me to worry about an heir. But they don’t have successors lined up yet.”

Bartolo calmly wrote himself off, and Cal responded with laughter.

“Hah-hah! So death don’t scare ya no more, huh?”

“…Neither you nor I even need to prepare for death now, and you know it.”

“I see, I see. Well, that’s enough about that. Really, I am sorry. I didn’t see that comin’ at all, but I’ll make it up to you. Of course, puttin’ somebody of your stature in danger won’t be cheap, but I’ll pay. If my life will cover it, you can shoot me dead right now.”

Although he was smiling as he spoke, when he said the last few words, his eyes were serious. Bartolo understood very well that Cal wasn’t lying.

He’d known this hedonist for a long time. The man had risen to his current station by gambling, using his own life as the chips, and he’d already run through his seed money. To a man already aware that he’d used up his life and was living on borrowed time—no matter how much extra time he had—it probably wouldn’t come as much of a blow.

That said, if Bartolo backed down for free, his own stock would fall.

In this business, letting someone off the hook wasn’t taken as a display of magnanimity.

…Even if his life had never actually been in danger during the earlier trouble.

“…Your petty life wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, if I killed you, the cover-up would be a nuisance. If you want to prove your sincerity, you’re free to do so in our upcoming transaction.”

Readjusting his collar, Bartolo headed out of the room.

Near the door, a man was just getting to his feet.

It was the one in the lab coat, the one who’d been shot in the head by the guard.

A whiskered man had been observing him at close range, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. As the researcher stood up, unharmed, Bartolo looked at him as well. With no change in expression, he called the whiskered man’s name.

“Begg.”

In a faltering voice, he answered, “…There’s…no…doubt about…it. These…men…are…immor…tals. How…ever, I think…they’re…proba…bly the…failed…sort.”

“I see.”

That was all he said.

The man in the lab coat took one look at the situation around him, then immediately ran out of the room, but nobody went after him.

As if to express his disinterest in him, Bartolo quietly began to walk.

The bodyguards around him also moved to form a defensive wall around him.

“Well then, today is hardly the time for business negotiations. I’ll take my leave here.”

“What, goin’ already? That kid’s not the only reason you were here, is he?”

“I’d like to distance myself from the building before the police raid it. Besides…”

Surrounded by his impenetrable human wall, the king left the chaos behind him, maintaining his composure to the end.

On his way out, he finished his remark with a wry smile.

“…I have a lunch engagement to keep.”

Nebula headquarters

“Let go…! Lemme gooo!”

As Nice ran through the building with Rail in tow, it was quite possible that the boy’s eyes weren’t registering anything anymore.

“I won’t let you go! …Rgh! They’re coming up from below, too?”

The group in lab coats was behind them, hot on their heels. Before she knew it, new shapes had begun closing in on them from the next floor down.

Most of Nice’s bombs had been confiscated, but she threw a smoke candle she’d hidden in the heel of her shoe, then used that opportunity to hide.

Frankly, she had no ideas about the identities of the group in lab coats or the bespectacled woman Rail had reacted to, and she wasn’t about to hazard a guess.

However, from the way they’d turned their guns on Rail without hesitating, she knew they were really bad news. She’d could tell they were dangerous for sure, in a different way from the mafiosi who’d been in that room.

They were probably only after Rail.

If she left him and ran off, she might make it back to Jacuzzi and the rest of their gang alive.

However, after considering that alternative for just a moment, Nice knew she’d never be able to look Jacuzzi in the face again afterward. She was embarrassed she’d even imagined it.

As Nice kept running with these things on her mind, behind her, Rail said:

“There… There’s…something I have to do!”

As he shouted, a terribly calm voice rose in his heart.

Something I have to do? No there isn’t.

Save Frank? Blow up that woman with the glasses? Sneer at humans?

Lies. I don’t care about any of those things now… Or I shouldn’t anyway.

…They don’t matter… Right now, to me, even Frank doesn’t matter… It’s… It’s weird… It’s weird…

No, I hate this. I hate what I’m becoming…

Little by little, his own mind was falling apart.

Rail was sure of the state he was in, yet he desperately denied it.

This couldn’t be real. This version of him wasn’t real. This world wasn’t real.

Once again, the urge to blow it all up washed over him.

No longer certain of his own mind, Rail remembered the nature Christopher had said he loved.

We’re created beings. Unnatural. We shouldn’t be here.

The only words that came to mind were negative ones—and then Rail felt a strong wind buffeting him and intense sunlight pouring down on him.

Coming back to himself in an instant, he saw…green trees that reminded him of nature.

Nice and Rail had run around for dear life, and their running had taken them to the very top of the building.

They were in a rooftop garden.

Alcatraz Island

It was an eerie sight.

A little girl standing on the roof, and a kettle of falcons spreading out until they nearly blotted out the sky.

All those eyes were focused on one man.

The fact that a flock of birds in flight was staring at one fixed point was creepy enough, but even worse was that the man at the center of all the attention was—smiling.

He was grinning at the airborne flock of birds as if he was really, truly enjoying himself. As if he was looking at a feast.

“La—…Ladd Russo…”

Memories from a few days ago rose in the girl’s mind.

The bloodthirsty killer who’d struck her with a chain mercilessly, without hesitating.

Leeza had taken over the minds of many women, but even after scanning through everything they knew, she hadn’t seen anything like it.

There was no need for death to affect her, yet she’d never felt such unmistakable fear before.

The man who’d inflicted that fear on her was walking across the recreation yard—currently Leeza’s domain—as if he were its king.

D-don’t mock me!

That earlier moment, and now this—why did she have to be frightened of anything, especially now?

As far as Leeza was concerned, it was unforgivable. Just as she’d done to Firo and the others a little while ago, she attacked Ladd with the falcons.

Ladd wasn’t an immortal. If she dug out one of his eyes, he’d probably quiet down.

And then you can just die.

On that cold thought, one falcon wheeled rapidly.

The raptor became a sharp missile, diving at Ladd’s face at ninety miles per hour.

Splutch.

There was the sound of tearing flesh, and a spray of blood scattered around Ladd.

Except—the blood wasn’t his, and the falcon that should have soared up gracefully tumbled across the dirt of the recreation yard instead.

When Firo and Dragon looked over…

…they realized that everything above the bird’s neck was missing.

“Hey, c’mon… That’s my specialty, ain’t it?”

Dragon was smiling ironically, even as cold sweat dripped down his cheeks.

Firo also let the ice in his expression thaw slightly as he realized, once again, just how abnormal Ladd was.

The guy hadn’t recoiled from the falcon that was diving at his face. Instead, he’d lunged forward, latching on to the bird’s head with his teeth.

With reflexes like that, evading would clearly have been easier.

And yet, Ladd had chosen not to dodge safely…

…but to kill one of the falcons.

“These birds… They ain’t normal, are they? They don’t think death is a possibility. Their thoughts are all soft.”

“Erk…”

In a bare instant, a bird with whom she’d shared a mind had been killed.

She hadn’t simply been manipulating the bird. That falcon had been a genuine part of her.

Leeza hadn’t had time to separate from its mind; she’d felt the bird die, and she realized she was terrified.

“Ah… WAAAAaaaAAaaaaah!”

In an attempt to eradicate that terror, Leeza unleashed multiple chakrams at Ladd, all at once.

If she’d attacked from all sides simultaneously, it would probably have worked, but she was so flustered the chakrams all flew at Ladd from the front.

“…”

Ladd wordlessly lifted a leg high in the air, stomping down the first ring that came at him, and used the momentum to swing his iron left hand around to dexterously repulse the rest of them.

One of the ricochets struck a falcon squarely, and it lost its balance and crashed to the recreation yard.

After pulling off this superhuman feat, Ladd cracked his neck, talking to himself.

“Those were a whole lot slower than that Chané doll’s throwing knives.”

“No… NoooOOooo!” Leeza clutched at her head, staring down at the sight.

Maybe because he’d heard the scream, Ladd looked up at Leeza—and smirked.

“Sure, you’re screamin’, but… Right now, I bet you think you’re safe because you’re all the way up there, don’tcha?”

“…Huh?” Leeza questioned instinctively, unsure what he was saying.

“Say I’m right.”

Muttering his unfair demand, Ladd twisted his whole torso vigorously back—and then, spinning like an enormous machine, slammed his iron left arm into the prison wall.

Part of the wall crumbled, and the inmates inside the building felt enough of a shock that they mistook it for an earthquake.

“Wha…?”

Leeza had been looking down over the edge, not understanding what Ladd had done, and…

…at first, she thought she was having a dizzy spell. By the time she realized that it was a tremor traveling up from below, she’d already been knocked off her feet.

“Eek! …Ah…ah…noooo!”

The next instant, she was plunging headfirst toward the yard.

Time seemed to slow, and in the instant she understood everything that was happening, she saw…

…Ladd, twisting back, preparing to pay out the same punch again.

…To turn her falling body into a red stain on the wall.

Nebula headquarters The rooftop garden

Unusually for skyscrapers of the era, the roof of the Nebula headquarters building was a midair garden, complete with a lawn and potted trees. It wasn’t that large, but its built-in pond and walking path made it seem like a small park.

Here, in this moderate climate, caught between the sunlight and the wind that eddied around the buildings—

—one story was concluded.

After running through the uproar, when Jacuzzi finally made it up to the rooftop garden, he saw—a very odd deadlock.

Graham and his delinquent pals hadn’t caught up with him yet. He’d been the only one who’d managed to slip into an elevator that went straight to the thirtieth floor, and under the circumstances, it was hard to tell whether that had been good luck or bad.

Still, this was apparently no time to be thinking about all that.

Nice and Rail had been brought to bay in front of the low rooftop railing. The group that was holding them there, handguns raised, were dressed in white lab coats that suggested they were doctors or researchers.

Standing at the head of the group in lab coats was a young, bespectacled woman who seemed completely out of place here.

“Um, we’d like you to hand Rail over to us, if you could.”

As four of her subordinates kept their guns trained on the target, Renee called to the girl with the eye patch in a laid-back voice.

“…I can’t give him to anyone who’d just start shooting for no reason.”

At the girl’s answer, Renee put a hand to her mouth as if she were troubled and turned to the subordinate beside her.

“What should we do? I’m not really sure who that girl is, but she seemed to be the chairman’s guest… It wouldn’t be a very good idea to capture, shoot, or kill her without permission, would it?”

“It would probably be a really bad idea.”

“Actually, things just about hit rock bottom when that explosion happened back there.”

“This is really awkward. Nobody wants to get fired, you know.”

Renee was bewildered but completely devoid of anxiety, and the men around her hit her with bad news, one after another.

“Plus, the group in that room back there was definitely mafia, Director.”

“Not only that, Director, but those Russo chumps were nothing compared to these guys.”

“This is bad, Director.”

Confronted with these various worries, Renee only shook her head as if she had no idea what to do. “That sure is a problem… Um… We’ll just think about it after we secure Rail!”

“You ended up right back where you started, Director!” one of her subordinates yelled, right as two more shouts came from behind them.

“Nice!”

“Niiiice!”

When the group in lab coats turned around, keeping a wary eye on Rail, they saw the two doors that connected the roof with the lower floors. Each one had opened to reveal a newcomer.

From one door, a young man with a tattoo on his face had appeared.

From the other, two young women had arrived. One of them was wearing a red dress, and the other was strikingly pale.

Miria had been running around, following the sounds of the explosions, which she assumed were Nice’s or Rail’s. Lua had gone with her for a lack of any better options, and they’d finally located the individuals in question on the roof.

Oh? That girl… Wasn’t she on the train…?

On seeing her distinctive eye patch and glasses—Lua remembered that incident, three years ago…but this didn’t seem to be the time to reminisce about such things.

When Miria saw that the girl was being held at gunpoint by a group in lab coats, she’d involuntarily screamed Nice’s name—

—and at the exact same time, she spotted Jacuzzi yelling from the stairway on the opposite side.

“Hmmmmm? We seem to have acquired more guests.”

This series of intruders bewildered the group in lab coats again.

“What should we do, Director?”

Renee scanned the rooftop, thinking for a little while, then abruptly clapped her hands together, smiled innocently, and offered a disturbing proposal.

“Hmm. Let’s see… As an experiment, let’s try taking that tattooed boy hostage!”

Jacuzzi had been edging closer, closing the distance, and he overheard her.

“Huh…?”

Just as his anxiety reached his expression, one of the guns turned his way.

“…—!”

If they all aimed at me, then at least Nice and Rail could get away, but…!

That thought crossed his mind for just a moment, but reality was not so kind to Jacuzzi and Nice—

—and the next instant, another unkind reality delivered a knockout blow to the group in lab coats.

A small silver disc flew in, scoring a direct hit on the arm of the man who was pointing his gun at Jacuzzi. The man gave a short scream and fumbled the handgun, dropping it.

From behind Jacuzzi, a man with an enormous wrench appeared—and took his stand in front of the tattooed young man, serving as a terribly reassuring wall.

“Let me tell you a sad, sad story…”

“Graham!”

“Well…it’s sad for the group in white… I didn’t have any particular bone to pick with you people. I’d even begun my awakening to human love and started thinkin’ it might be its own kind of fantastic to talk this out, and then what do I see? You turned a weapon designed to take lives! On my! Precious! Sworn brother and sister! And now, I’m gonna pat myself on the back for runnin’ all the way up here from the first floor, and then! I’m gonna convert that fatigue into pain and share it with you; that okay?! Great, we’ll call that a yes!”

At this point, even Graham’s bizarre rambling—punctuated by a series of jaunty smacks—seemed incredibly dependable, and it cast a sense of relief over Nice and the others.

However…

…for the boy who stood behind Nice, it had the exact opposite effect.

Aah… It’s him.

It’s that monster.

What is this? Why is he…? Wasn’t he with the group in lab coats?

Did they fight or something? Or…is he going to save me? No, that couldn’t be. Then… Why?

The bomber lady, that tattooed guy, and everybody else—are they all friends with that monster in the blue coveralls?

Maybe they were really just being nice to me so they could catch me.

I wonder. It could be, but it also feels like it isn’t.

I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this.

Aarghh, aaaarrrrgghhh, I’m so damn confused. Aaah, aaaaaaaah, AAaaaaAAAAaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH…

Inside Rail, the voice that repeatedly urged him to blow it all away was welling up. With it came hatred for the world that had rejected him, and the humans who lived in that world as natural beings.

That’s right, that’s right, that’s right…

By now, the white-coats’ conversation, Graham’s mutterings, and Jacuzzi’s tearful voice were nothing more than static to him. They were just the voices of the immortals he hated and the humans he despised.

Graham and his henchmen stormed onto the roof and jumped the armed group in lab coats.

Jacuzzi was weaving through the gaps between them, heading this way.

But neither of them mattered to Rail anymore.

I’m sick of this. I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to hear it…

Automatically, the boy’s hands reached for the pouch Nice was holding.

If he pulled out a single pin, that first explosion would probably set off all the other bombs inside, blowing away every human and immortal on the roof. Himself included, of course.

Rail knew this. As if to say he couldn’t have asked for a better option, he attempted to pull a pin, but then—

“Rail!”

—he heard a voice.

Just before he obliterated his own world, he heard the voice of a girl—a recent addition to his memories of that world.

Through the overwhelming static, he felt as if he’d heard her extremely clearly.

When Rail turned to look that way—there she was, hugging her camera to her chest.

“Carol…” he murmured in a daze, remembering what had happened a few days earlier.

He had the feeling that those moments just before his own world had broken and everything had begun to go mad—were the last time he’d laughed with pleasure.

And the first time he’d enjoyed talking with a human.

The girl had been with him and Frank when they’d eaten hot dogs. She’d smiled at them unguardedly, weird as they were, and when he saw her—Rail decided not to pull that pin.

Instead, he took a bomb from the pouch, then spoke briefly to what might have been a mere hallucination of the girl.

“Thank you.”

“Huh…?”

Carol, who’d been searching for Rail all this time, had reached the roof along with the vice president.

However, the moment she called his name, Rail smiled faintly and thanked her in an odd way.

“Because of you, Carol…I think I might have gotten to like humans, just a little.”

“Rail…?”

“So—I’ll be the only one to go.”

That brief memory with Carol.

The one memory Rail had with a human made him resolve to die.

He wasn’t afraid of dying. He wasn’t frightened of disappearing.

He was scared of pain, nothing else.

But that was already gone, thanks to Huey and his team.

Aah, when you look at it that way, maybe I’m lucky I can’t feel the pain.

On that thought—Rail didn’t hesitate to act on his internal impulse.

Holding on to the incredibly selfish belief that Chris would save Frank…

…amid the commotion on the roof, Rail gripped the bomb tightly.

Then climbing over a fence that was about as tall as he was…

…with a faint smile, he quietly pulled out the pin.

Was the smile because the sutures pulled at his skin, or had he seen some kind of hope in death?

No one but Rail knew.

Alcatraz Island Recreation yard

When Leeza realized she was falling, it felt as though time had stopped.

Naturally, this was just an illusion, and the ground was steadily rushing toward her.

Though her body would probably never reach it.

She could tell her fate would be Ladd’s iron fist through her body on her way down, and an end as a stain on the wall.

Dying was fine.

If this body died here, her mind would still exist in other Hiltons.

But the idea of loss— That was frightening.

She was scared of losing this body, the one that had completely inherited her father’s blood; she was scared of losing her flesh, the color of her eyes and skin and hair, her features, her voice, her frame. And most of all, even if it was only temporary, she was terrified of the separation from her father.

As that terror gripped her, the next thing Leeza knew, she was crying.

However, even before her tears reached the ground—

—Ladd’s fist lashed out, ruthless and cruel.

And Rail slowly tipped backward…until the next moment, he felt himself falling.

The bomb slipped from his limp hands, starting for the ground a little before he did.

Still, if he fell now—it was likely that they’d burst into a million pieces together partway down.

Plummeting from the building, he sensed certain death inside himself, and…

…as time slowed to a crawl around him, Rail quietly looked up at the sky.

It was so blue, endlessly blue—and overwhelmed by its breathtaking height, he thought:

Now that I’ve seen this sky, I might have started to like the world, just a little.

Although it’s too late now.

And then, Rail—

Several days later According to Salomé Carpenter

It’s a truly wretched story.

Rail did a foolish thing.

Even though throwing one’s life away solves nothing, he gave himself up to the blast.

You can easily imagine the force of the explosion. While his body wasn’t pulverized instantly, it was thrown from the roof by the rapidly expanding air.

Had I been there, I expect he would have been saved. Or at the very least, he would have allowed me to record the results of his life and died a meaningful death.

However, fate was not on our side—the people on the scene were a band of careless delinquents.

They really were a useless lot who thought nothing at all.

And that is why I lost Rail!

Turn back the clock to the instant of the explosion.

It wasn’t that they—or at least, Jacuzzi Splot—were thinking nothing at all.

What he didn’t think about was the consequences. His heart was filled with a single thought.

Just one phrase.

“You’ll get hurt!”

Based on that thought alone, his body moved automatically. And that very lack of concern for the consequences was what allowed him to leap into action.

Just as he saw Rail begin to climb over the fence, he threw himself at it as well.

In other words, in an act that really and truly failed to consider what would come next, he lunged at the falling Rail and clung to him—

—and ended up sharing his fate.

Landing on the other side of the railing, Jacuzzi grabbed Rail’s arm just as he began to tilt.

“Huh…?”

It was Rail who’d cried out.

He hadn’t simply felt as though he was falling slowly. His fall had actually been arrested.

For a moment, Rail thought he saw Christopher grabbing his hand, and his eyes widened— But the young man standing there, his tattooed face warped as if he was about to cry, was nothing like Christopher.

“Wh…? Why?”

The moment that question entered his head, the bomb that had fallen before he did exploded.

The blast reached the roof, a fierce gust of wind assailed Rail and Jacuzzi—and the pressure nearly lifted Jacuzzi off his feet. Little by little, his left hand slipped free of the railing.

I’m falling!

Jacuzzi and Rail reached that conclusion at the exact same time, and immediately afterward—

Nice had leaned halfway over the fence and grabbed Jacuzzi’s arm, and she was holding on for dear life.

“Nice!”

“Ghk…”

The girl with the eye patch desperately pulled Jacuzzi’s arm toward her, but she was trying to reel in the weight of two people, and the position she was holding put her at a disadvantage.

All three of them might end up falling together.

As if to shake off that premonition, a new shape clambered over the railing.

“Rail! Grab my hand!”

“M-Miria!”

Miria had climbed over the fence without hesitating, and she stretched her arm as far as it would go, trying to catch Rail.

For just a moment, Rail hesitated.

Did he have the right to take that hand?

But the next thing he knew, his hand had reached out on its own.

Rail couldn’t even feel pain, but now that his mind and body had separated completely, his instincts as a living being had naturally chosen the path that would let him survive.

Supported by Miria’s and Jacuzzi’s hands, Rail was gradually drawn upward.

However— The blast had disturbed the air currents, whipping up another strong wind between the buildings.

The gust was more violent than they’d anticipated. Miria’s palms were already sweaty, and when it buffeted her… Just as Jacuzzi’s had done a few moments ago, she felt her fingers gradually beginning to slip.

“Ngh…!”

If Miria fell, there was really no way that Nice could support the weight of three people. There was also no telling whether Rail would be able to support Miria with one hand in the first place. Carol, the vice president, and even Lua came running over, intending to reach out for her, but—

—a lone figure wove its way through them at terrific speed, rushing to Miria.

Just before her fingers came free—Miria whispered the name of her beau.

Believing in a single miracle…

“Isaac…!”

Children of man. This time, your request shall be granted.

As if the blue Chicago sky itself had murmured this…a voice rang out.

“I’m here!”

Then the light shone on a man’s face right in front of Miria.

Ignoring the fact that he’d lose his ten-gallon hat, the man caught Miria’s arm in a firm grip as Nice had done with Jacuzzi, just as she was about to slip off the fence.

““?!””

When they saw the man, both Jacuzzi and Nice stared, wide-eyed. It might have been an illusion, but they clearly saw something like the light of hope around him.

The next thing Miria knew, big tears were rolling down her cheeks.

What she was feeling from the hand holding on to her arm wasn’t an illusion or a fantasy. It was the steady warmth of the person she loved.

“Isaac… Isaaaaaac!”

Crying like a child, Miria sent the name echoing across the Chicago sky.

Alcatraz Island Recreation yard

Frozen with terror, Leeza felt a shock run through her.

However, it was far smaller than what she’d been anticipating…and she noticed it was much lighter than the shock of hitting the ground, let alone turning into a stain on the wall.

“…?”

When she fearfully opened her eyes—

—she saw her hated enemy, the one who had wounded her father.

“Fi… Firo!”

Remembering the malice she’d felt a moment ago, she hastily tried to distance herself from him, but her body wouldn’t move how she wanted it to.

And that was when she realized he was holding her in his arms.

“L-let me…”

Let me go, Leeza tried to scream, but abruptly, she sensed that something seemed off. Her eyes went to Firo’s body—and she stiffened again.

“What’s the big idea, Firo?” muttered a very cross-looking Ladd, who was the source of that feeling. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re immortal or what…”

His iron prosthetic was dyed red. As he watched the blood that dripped from that hand fall, then begin to wriggle and head back to Firo, he sighed in disbelief.

“Frankly, that’s gotta hurt.”

Ladd and Leeza’s eyes were fixed on Firo’s side—or rather, on what had happened to it when he’d caught the falling girl and taken Ladd’s iron fist for his efforts.

The flesh was gouged away, muscle and bone alike, in the path where Ladd’s fist had punched through, and the cut surfaces were coated with squirming blood that was working to repair the cavity.

Sustaining a wound that would have been lethal for a nonimmortal no matter how you looked at it, Firo had stopped Leeza’s fall.

Up until a few seconds ago, the camorrista’s eyes had been cold as ice, but now as a greasy sweat broke out on his face, he was smiling with all the bravado he could muster.

“…It’s…nothin’.”

Chicago Nebula headquarters The rooftop garden

“Isaac… Isaaaaac!”

“Hey, Miria! You okay?! You’re not hurt, are you?!”

Miria, who’d been hauled safely back to the inside of the railing, flung herself into Isaac’s arms. Big tears were rolling down her face.

It was definitely Isaac himself, and although he couldn’t possibly have had any idea what was going on, he was standing there with an oddly triumphant look on his face.

Watching them, Renee was charmed by the unexpected entrance and the couple’s embrace. Even then, she still made a heartless remark to her white-coat-clad subordinates.

“Um… I feel bad about doing this during a touching reunion, but…do you think we could shoot everybody except Rail in the legs and call it justifiable self-defense for now?”

“Director, what should we do about the guy running around with the wrench?”

Looking at the wrench-slinging fighter, who was somehow managing to hold his own against three opponents at once, Renee hummed in thought, then seemed to remember.

“Oh, wait. Aren’t those people from the Russo Family?”

“Huh? …Oh, now that you mention it, I do think I saw him at the Russo mansion the other day.”

On hearing her subordinate’s remark, Renee clapped her hands lightly—and said something cruel.

“The fellow with the wrench seems to be the type who cares about his friends, so… If we shoot those friends in the legs, I think he’ll listen to what we say and let us kill him right away.”

“…Yes, ma’am,” the man in the lab coat muttered wearily. He adjusted his grip on his gun and started toward Graham, aiming the muzzle at Shaft’s leg, but—

—somebody gripped the hand holding the gun, then wrenched it back.

“Gwagh?!”

The gun’s muzzle swiveled right along with its owner’s joints, until it was pointing at his face—and then it fired. A spray of blood erupted from the back of the man’s head.

“?!”

At the sound of the man’s scream and the gunshot, the group in lab coats and everyone else on the roof turned, and…

“Hello.”

…there stood a red-eyed vampire, soaking up the sunlight like he just couldn’t get enough.

“Chris!”

Through the haze of fatigue around his mind, Rail cried out involuntarily.

“Hiya.” Christopher waved at him, then began strolling toward the group in lab coats.

“Oh! Miria! It’s the magician who was in New York last year!”

“What?! Then was that a magic trick, too, just now?!”

Isaac, who was the same as ever, and Miria, whose voice was just a little tear-choked, started to get all excited…while Nice and Jacuzzi’s expressions tensed slightly.

“Sure took your time, you red-eyed bastard,” Graham complained, grinning, and Christopher offered his excuse with a shrug.

“The elevator was crowded.”

Laughing at his own dumb joke, Christopher peered down at the guy who’d just died. The blood was squirming, slipping back into the man’s head before his very eyes.

“There, Miria, look! It really is a magic trick!”

“Yes, a time-rewinding show!”

Listening to the couple, Christopher smiled wryly, spread his arms wide, and spoke.

“Oh, I’m glad… I’m so glad you people are immortals.”

“?”

The men in lab coats looked at one another. Christopher walked toward them, hands still empty.

Renee was wary, but since she didn’t know what he was planning to do, she wasn’t sure what orders to give.

However—in the end, that momentary vulnerability didn’t matter to him at all, whether it was there or not.

“Come one, come all, step right up for Christopher Shaldred’s magic show! Today, you’re going to see a magnificent display of human regeneration!”

Chris abruptly clapped his hands together, shouted those words—and then nimbly closed the distance between himself and the men in lab coats. He took the hands aiming guns at him and shifted the muzzles to point at other lab-coat-clad individuals, smoothly as a dance.

A sound like fireworks rang out, and with the smell of gun smoke and sprays of blood, the show began.

Graham joined in, and the completely one-sided routine laid waste to the group in lab coats.

Isaac and Miria squealed and clapped, Jacuzzi and Nice stood petrified in shock…

…and Rail watched this joint performance by Christopher and the monster in the coveralls, his eyes shining.

He didn’t even have time to notice that the voice inside him wasn’t telling him to “blow it all up” anymore.

In his heart, Rail the homunculus felt a mysterious peace.

Gently rocking, back and forth…

Alcatraz Island

“Hey, whoa, c’mon. Firo, kid… She was trying to kill you. What the hell are you doin’ saving her? Are you some kind of masochist?”

Firo was about to pass out from the pain as the gaping hole gradually closed, but he kept it together and answered.

“It’s just…how I do things. I don’t hit women or kids.”

“Ah, I see. Yeah, come to think of it, you said that before.”

Chuckling, Ladd raised his right hand high and spoke, his voice ringing clearly across the recreation yard.

“But she was after my life, too. Why should I let her go? What’s in it for me? I mean, if your code says you don’t hit dolls and kids, then mine says I can kill anyone, including dolls and kids. I love killing more than I love food; what’s in it for me if I hold back?”

Ladd had said something preposterous, and Firo hesitated for a while before responding. However, finally, he caved and nodded—and whispered in Ladd’s ear, quietly, so that Leeza wouldn’t hear.

“Later…I’ll tell you how to kill an immortal.”

“Deal!”

It took Ladd less than half a second to answer. Burying his bloodlust, he thumped Firo on the shoulder with an ironic remark.

“Peter Pan’s got it rough, too, don’t he? Gotta protect all the little kids.”

Firo gave a self-deprecating smile. It was all he could do not to answer the sarcasm with more of the same.

“I think the crocodile should just worry about how to cough up his damn clock.”

In high spirits, Ladd kicked Dragon over—and while he was busy with that, Leeza stopped controlling the birds and asked a simple, important question.

“Why…did you…save me?”

“He just said he doesn’t hit women or kids,” Ladd muttered in exasperation. He never got to land his finishing blow on her, after all.

Leeza, who’d managed to avoid the worst, trembled in Firo’s arms.

She did remember the terrible cold and deadly fury she’d felt a short while ago, but she couldn’t sense anything like it from Firo now.

She couldn’t feel satisfied with what he’d said, and so she said:

“I…I said I was going to kill you… I said I’d kill your friends… And even then, even then…you… Why did you…save me?”

Nebula headquarters The roof

“Why…?”

Next to Isaac and Miria’s joyous reunion…

For a little while, Rail had watched Christopher’s fight, fascinated—but as if he’d remembered something, he suddenly turned to Jacuzzi and asked him a question.

“Huh?”

“You just met me, so why…? You don’t know anything about me yet, but you… How could you risk so much…for me?”

In a prison on the Western coast, the camorrista answered.

“Do ya need a reason? I mean, if a kid falls off a roof, you’d normally save ’em before you even think about it, right?”

At just about the same time—

—in the city by the lake, the crybaby answered.

“Th-there’s no real reason. Before… Before I knew it, I’d just, j-j-j-j-j-jumped—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, just remembering it is scaring me…”

Nebula headquarters The basement

“Waaaaah, I never expected him to make such a powerful monster. That really is just like Huey.”

As Renee gave a cry of fear that was still somehow laid-back, her hurried footsteps pattered through the Nebula headquarters basement.

Once she’d witnessed Christopher’s overwhelming ability in a fight, she’d determined that there was nothing she could do, left the rest to her subordinates, and beat a hasty retreat from the roof.

Most of the third subbasement had been allocated to the pharmaceutical sector’s sixth development lab, and it was rather like Renee’s stronghold. There was an evacuation route that led aboveground nearby, and she had several available options.

“Still, I have to do something. Should I ask everyone who’s left to provide backup? Or would it be better to run… Oh, of course. I can just use Frank as a hostage!”

Murmuring her cruel idea in a lethargic voice, Renee flung open the door to the laboratory—

—and what she saw, she could hardly believe.

“Huh…?”

She stood there, perplexed, as she looked at the laboratory, which had been thoroughly trashed, and the prone researchers on the floor.

Some of them were clearly unconscious, and next to them stood a woman in a green gown.

In front of the few who were technically conscious, though hollow-eyed and unmoving, was a man with a hat pulled down low on his head.

She didn’t even need to check to know that they were probably Sickle and the Poet.

However, something else arrested Renee’s attention far more than them…

Meanwhile Chicago Nebula headquarters The roof

“By the way, Isaac… What are you doing here?!”

“D-did Nick and Jack bring you here?”

Although they thought it might be gauche of them to interrupt Isaac and Miria, Nice and Jacuzzi were too caught up in the mood and asked in spite of themselves. However, Isaac only cocked his head in bewilderment, his arms still tight around Miria.

“Huh? I didn’t run into Nick or Jack.”

“What?! Th-then how did you know where…?!”

Don’t tell me it was one of love’s miracles?!

A dumb idea flashed across Jacuzzi’s mind, but Isaac smiled artlessly and gave an extremely simple answer.

“Oh, I met somebody nice on the train…”

“And then we ran smack into a buddy of mine from prison, and they brought me here!”

Meanwhile Chicago Nebula headquarters The basement

“Uh, um…? Huh? What? Huh?”

Renee couldn’t believe her eyes.

The man who stood between the Poet and Sickle, right there in front of her, smiled and bowed.

“It’s been a long time…Maestra Parmedes.”

To the best of her knowledge, only a few called her by that name.

And this man was most definitely the one she knew.

“Why…? Why are you here, Huey?!”

Huey Laforet.

He was Renee’s old acquaintance, the alchemist and terrorist who was currently supposed to be locked in a special underground cell in Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary.

That said, he wasn’t wearing a prison uniform now. Instead, he was dressed so sharply he could have been mistaken for a politician.

However, despite being immortal, he had bandages wrapped around his face, covering his left eye. The former Felix Walkens must have successfully completed the job she’d asked them to do.

Then why…? Why did he get here before Mr. Felix?!

Late during the night before last, she’d received word that Huey Laforet was still in prison. Even if he’d broken out and immediately boarded a train, he couldn’t possibly have arrived by now.

And yet, here he was. How? An airplane might have made it possible, but how would he have managed to successfully escape all the way to the airport?

As Renee blinked at him in astonishment, Huey chuckled.

“It’s been quite a while since I last saw you so startled, Maestra Parmedes. When we were your students, you reacted like that to Elmer’s pranks nearly every day.”

“…Um… Erm, what did you come here to do?”

“What do you think?”

“Uh… To talk about old times?”

“You haven’t changed, have you, Maestra. If I were Elmer, you might be correct, but…”

Renee tilted her head in confusion, giving a troubled smile, and Huey smirked.

“Yes. If it were Elmer, even if he’d had his eye gouged out…I expect he’d prefer to reminisce.”

“Yes, Elmer is quite easygoing, after all.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha…”

With a somewhat dim-looking smile, Renee remembered the face of her other pupil. Huey quietly smiled back at her, and then—

—still smiling mildly, he slowly raised his right hand and reached out.

The next moment, a gout of flame shot from his fingertips…or so it seemed.

Before she had time to realize it was coming from the tube of a compact flamethrower that ran down Huey’s sleeve, Renee had jumped out of the way, shielding her face with both arms, afraid her skin would burn. But—

“No! …Ah… Eeeeek!”

—the next instant, Huey was right in front of her, pinning her to the wall.

“I look forward to learning what you intend to use my left eye for, Maestra.”

Their position could have been taken as something more risqué…but Huey used that hand to gently remove Renee’s glasses.

“However, in exchange—I would like something of my own to study…”

Softly, Huey ran his index finger over her right eyelid, now defenseless without her lenses.

“Then we’ll call ourselves even.”

“…Just one, all right?” She must have known what was about to happen to her. Renee exhaled deeply in resignation, then smiled faintly and murmured, “…Be gentle with me, please. Don’t make it hurt.”

It was impossible to tell whether the request was deliberate or instinctive. Likewise, Huey’s response might have been an attempt at humor, or just mean-spirited.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any anesthetic.”

“Eep?! Um, th-there’s anesthetic in the lab over the— Aaaah, n-n-no, Huey, calm down please, don’t be so rough— Ah! …AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAaaah-ah…! …AaaAAAAAAh-aaaaah-aaaaaaah!”

“Now, then. I’ll be taking Frank back as well.”

Renee had passed out from the pain, so Huey laid her down. Then he took a jar from the lab and tossed the eye he’d just gouged from her into it.

The eyeball immediately tried to return to her body, but before it could, he deftly closed the lid.

Glancing at the unconscious Renee, Huey chuckled softly, then impassively said his good-byes.

“All right, Maestra. You always were running into everything and everyone, so I suspect having one eye is going to make it even worse…

“But do take care of yourself.”

At the same time Alcatraz Island

The white man and the black man were taken to the hospital, while Firo, Ladd, and Dragon were each escorted away by a guard. No matter what was about to befall them, Leeza didn’t feel like doing anything to them herself, not even if they came back out into the recreation yard.

Her heart had been shut down, and at this point, there was nothing she could do.

…It’s a lie.

It can’t be. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t.

It’s not true, not true, not true.

No. No.

It has to be a mistake.

He’s— Firo’s a bad guy. He hurt Father. He’s my enemy. The enemy.

He just said he’d kill Father, too. He said he’d eat him!

But, but, but…no, no, this can’t be right.

Back when that creep almost killed me, he saved me. Why?

You can’t tell me “no reason.” There has to be a reason.

It’s his fault! It’s all his fault for doing something like—like that…!!

Leeza didn’t understand the reason behind the impulse inside her. She just stood where she was, dazed.

The guards came up to her. All of them, including the Shams, were shouting. “What’s a little girl doing here?!” and “Where did you come from, kid?!” and “What’s with the dead bird…?” and “Are you okay?!”

This was all according to plan. She was supposed to insist that she didn’t know why she was there, and after she was placed in the custody of a facility on the mainland, she’d go join Huey with the help of another body.

However, that script had fallen clean out of Leeza’s mind.

Her heart was at the mercy of both her complicated emotions, and a single question.

He’s not Father—not even close, and yet…

Why him…? Why would I…?

Why did I think he was so cool…?

Ten minutes later Chicago Nebula headquarters The roof

On the roof where that crazy ruckus had played out, Cal Muybridge was smiling cheerfully.

“I tell ya, that’s nice, real nice. I never thought I’d be gettin’ so much excitement at my age.”

“As far as the staff is concerned, it’s a thundering nuisance,” Rubik muttered apathetically, crunching on a sugar cube.

After Christopher and Graham had knocked out the entire white-coat-clad group, the gang of juvenile delinquents had poured onto the roof. They’d taken the stairs, following Graham, but most of them had run out of steam partway up.

Then with the worst possible timing, a horde of police cars had pulled up in front of the headquarters building—and the delinquents had taken to their heels, scattering every which way.

That said, Ricardo, the last one to arrive, had pointed them toward a back door that was practically unknown even to company employees; consequently, Jacuzzi and the others had all gotten safely out of the building.

Basking in the twilight after the uproar had faded, the chairman of Nebula, who’d taken heavy damage, cackled as he reflected on what had happened.

“Well now, that was a real shindy today. Whaddaya expect is gonna happen next?”

“Whatever does happen…this matter was an all-around nuisance, as far as we’re concerned.”

“You ain’t wrong about that. Still, we managed to get ourselves a pretty good idea of what’s goin’ on with Huey. That was one stroke of luck. In fact, we maybe came out ahead, all things considered.”

“Absurd. Even if he is immortal, what do you enjoy so much about being yanked around by one person?”

At this perfectly sound argument from Rubik, Cal spread both arms wide and loudly declared:

“Pandemonium is just a part of life! Peacetime or war, as long as you’ve got people, their fates are always gonna get tangled up into one huge mess! Que sera sera, ya follow? Sure, he’s just one fella, but now that we’re involved… now that he’s takin’ the gloves off and pickin’ a fight with us, it’s just good form to throw down our chips and hit him with everythin’ we’ve got. After all, it’s more fun that way, y’know?”

“If you want to bet lives, limit yourself to your own, sir.”

“Well, see, unfortunately… I’ve been mixed up with Barty and that lil’ greenhorn Beriam for ages now… Anyhow, I made this company, so let’s go full steam ahead for happiness!”

Rotten hedonist. Why don’t they hound him into retirement?

Shaking his head with the expression of a man who just couldn’t deal with this right now, Rubik took several more sugar cubes from the jar and began to wolf them down.

Cal, who’d been watching him out of the corner of his eye, gazed longingly at the contents of the jar, then asked a question unbefitting the chairman of a major company.

“…By the by, those sugar cubes sure look tasty. Gimme one, wouldja?”

“Absolutely not.”

Somewhere in Chicago

To escape from the police, the gang of delinquents was making a run for the train station.

One of them was carrying Rail, who was a physical wreck.

I’m just…pathetic.

He didn’t have time to sit around feeling relieved.

Now that that impulse was gone and he was calm, there was just one thing he had to do.

Even if it meant using this group of delinquents, he had to go save Frank, right away…

As Rail was thinking this, a small voice whispered right in his ear.

“You can relax. Master Huey and the others rescued Frank.”

“…!”

The assurance had come from the delinquent who was carrying him on his back, and Rail instantly realized he was a Sham.

“…You really are everywhere, huh.” His reply was sarcastic, but the news that Frank was safe dramatically revived his spirits.

Noticing that the energy had returned to his voice, the delinquent—Sham—murmured an ironic retort of his own. “So what now? Will you go back to Master Huey?”

“…”

It was a natural question, and Rail fell to thinking for a little while. He wanted to see Frank, but he thought he could settle for checking on him later, from a distance.

Right now, more than anything, he was itching to deliver a certain announcement to Huey.

“Tell Huey…‘I’m free, shithead.’ Then tell Frank, ‘I’ll come pick you up really soon.’”

“…That’s open rebellion. You really want me to pass that along?” Sham asked, smiling with chagrin, but there was no response from his back.

After he was sure Rail was asleep, Sham kept racing after Jacuzzi and the others, sticking to the same route. He was still wearing that wry smile.

And as Rail nodded off…he spoke to the absent Christopher.

Say, Chris?

I knew it. I couldn’t do it.

No good, honest person pulled me over.

The people who did grab my hand were broken in a different way from you.

They’re the kind who’d throw themselves off a roof for no reason, just to save me, when they’d only just met me… Total basket cases.

Listen, Chris. I’m on the crazy side, too.

And so… So this time—

—I’ll go to you and take your hand, Chris.

You may be broken beyond repair, but I swear I’ll grab your hand.

Until then…I’ll do my best to give living a shot.

I’ll do it here, with these completely broken people.

I’ll go pick up Frank and Sickle, Chi and Adele and the Poet, too…

Let’s scare the hell out of Huey and that rat Leeza, together.

Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?

Doesn’t it…Chris…?

Even as he fell into dreamland, Rail kept murmuring Christopher’s name.

As if blessing his smile, a warm glow filled the sky over Chicago.

Or perhaps the glow was a farewell to the people leaving one city to return to another.

Between the shadows of the skyscrapers, it formed beautiful paths of light.

…For both the good and the bad, impartially…

…paving the way to the next stage for the people and their emotions…

As if hiding from that light, a truck raced out of the Nebula underground parking lot.

The truck was carrying Frank’s huge frame. The Poet, Sickle, and several Shams had piled into it and were taking him to a clinic on the outskirts of town.

As he watched the truck go, Huey Laforet spoke to the individual beside him.

“We haven’t seen each other in ages, yet you’ve remained nearly silent this whole time…”

“Hunh. Without…Elmer, you’re…just…a…luna…tic. That’s…why.”

“Those don’t sound like the words of a drug addict…but I don’t deny it.”

“How…did…you…get here…from…the…pri…son?”

“I was merely torn into a few pieces, then had a flock of my own daughter carry me.” Snickering at Begg’s question, Huey then addressed another man who stood behind him. “Now then, Mr. Bartolo. I’m terribly honored by your invitation to lunch…but I do wonder what could you could possibly want with a mere immortal like myself. Do you, too, wish for eternal life?”

“I’m not interested in that.” The old man, flanked by his twin bodyguards, was wearing a chilly expression and smoking a cigar. “I only came to get a look at the terrorist young Beriam is obsessed with.”

“Did you? And what impression did I make on the eminent Bartolo of the Eastern seaboard?”

“You’re a kid. A ravenous little rascal.”

The comment couldn’t have been more direct, and Huey responded with pleasure. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t intended to compliment or denigrate you. For better or worse, people like you are the movers and shakers of the world,” Bartolo answered impassively. Then, he asked a question of the other man, one who’d lived several times longer than he himself had. “And? What do you plan to do next?”

“Let’s see. It would be difficult to run the experiment in Chicago at this point, so…I suppose I’m planning to meander toward my next destination. But first…”

Giving an impish smile worthy of the other man’s evaluation—he bowed respectfully to the mafia boss with the utmost courtesy.

“As promised, allow me to accept your invitation to lunch.”

New encounters were born and perished out of reach of the sunlight.

They, too, created paths through the darkness.

Paving the way to the next stage for ambitions and insanity…

And so, on this day—

—the poison known as Huey Laforet was quietly released into the spiral of the crazy ruckus.

Even Huey couldn’t know what influence that poison would have…

Quietly, the spiral spun ever on.