Baccano! - Volume 15 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“I BET HE’S JUST LOVESICK.”

1709 A storehouse near the port of Lotto Valentino

The street of storehouses was a good distance from the market, despite still being in the port, so it was quiet here.

No ships were moored nearby, leaving the place a bit lonely.

Farther away from the water, there was an old storehouse. Hardly any goods were kept inside it, and the warehouse seemed like part of a ghost town—but there were living quarters on its second floor, and the conversation inside it was too cheerful for the surroundings.

“Wanna go sneak onto that ship? It’ll be fun, I’m sure!”

The owner of the voice wasn’t the one who lived in this storehouse, however.

Meanwhile, the young man who did live here sounded exasperated.

“That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t give me that. Stop.”

“Awwwww,” Elmer whined like a child, while Huey Laforet sighed heavily.

“Think about what you’re going to say before you say it. Considering this logically: Why should we have to sneak onto that ship just because it gave Monica a shock?”

Monica hadn’t been feeling well, and after Elmer had walked her home, he’d gone straight to Huey’s house, described her reaction, and immediately suggested raiding the ship.

“Maybe we’d find something that would set her mind at ease, you know?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even know why Monica reacted like that in the first place, do you?”

“Of course not!”

“Your confidence on that point is less than helpful.”

Huey had been reading a book while he dealt with the other boy, but he shut it and slowly looked at Elmer.

The smile junkie’s face was filled with innocent joy, as always, and he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss about what he’d said.

“Yeah, I dunno the reason, but it was hard to ask her about it. Well, more like she wouldn’t tell me if I did ask, so I figured it’d be faster to check into it on my own.”

“…Sometimes, I have to respect your optimism.”

Giving a very small, wry smile, Huey quietly shook his head.

If one of Huey’s acquaintances aside from Elmer and Monica had seen that smile, they might have been a bit confused. Normally, he wore an agreeable smile to fool those around them, or no expression at all.

He almost never showed such human emotion, and it was likely there were only three people in the town—and maybe not even that many—who could coax it out of him. Elmer was used to his smile by now.

And without changing that expression, Huey continued with his negativity.

“In the first place, we don’t know whether Monica was afraid of what was on that ship or not. Maybe she has some trauma associated with battleships. Or with black ships.”

“But I think she said something like ‘Why here?’ so I’m betting it was the gilded hourglass crest on that ship.”

“Still. That’s no reason to sneak onto a battleship. What if Monica doesn’t want anyone bringing up that part of her past? If we expose things she’d rather keep hidden, we’ll only make it worse for her.”

Huey’s theory sounded plausible, and Elmer cocked his head.

“Huh? If that happens, we can just pretend we didn’t see it and forget all about it, right?”

“…Ever the optimist.” Huey sighed deeply and leaned against the backrest of his chair until it creaked.

Picking up an odd implement that sat on his desk, he began fiddling with it in front of Elmer.

“What’s that?”

Elmer peered at it with interest, and Huey slipped the device onto his hand. Several thin tubes extended from one end of the object, running down into a leather bag that he wore on his hip.

“It’s the equipment for a little magic trick.”

Huey got to his feet, put some distance between himself and any stacks of paper or books, then waved his hand toward empty space. A small mass of flames bloomed from his hand, blazed up for just a moment in midair, then vanished. The cause seemed impossible to explain.

“Whoa!!” Elmer yelped at the sudden flash of red in the air.

Ignoring him, Huey closed his hand around the odd device.

The implement itself wasn’t that large, and if one only looked at the back of his hand, it couldn’t be seen at all. Checking to see how it felt to wear, Huey murmured to himself.

“…Now I just have to combine it with a gauntlet or something.”

“Wha…? That’s amazing! How’d you do that?! It’s magic!”

Elmer’s eyes were sparkling. Turning his back to him, Huey returned to his seat in the chair.

“It’s nothing impressive. I was wondering whether I could recreate Greek fire, so I mixed naphtha with several materials and created a combustible fuel. This device spits it out and ignites it… It’s just a toy, though.”

As Huey fiddled with his dangerous “toy,” Elmer clapped his hands and laid on the praise.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m really impressed you could build it without getting discouraged!”

Greek fire was an incendiary weapon that had been used in the Roman Empire several centuries earlier, made with “burning water.” The mysterious substance was said to be impossible to recreate, but many alchemists were independently trying to find the recipe.

Setting aside the question of whether Huey’s invention was actually Greek fire, most boys below the age of twenty didn’t build such things.

For most alchemists, if they had seen Huey’s technical prowess, they would probably have tried to figure out where it came from. Was it due to Dalton and Renee’s lessons, or was it his own talent?

But at least one novice alchemist didn’t care which it was and simply kept complimenting him.

“That’s just like you, Huey! You love building your contraptions, don’t you?”

“…Hmph.”

“You do use fire a lot, though, both in your research and in your creations. Do you think you’ve got a fixation?”

“…No, nothing like that. It’s just the first thing I happened to start working on, so it only looks that way,” Huey answered brusquely, but he was lying.

Privately, he did have an idea of why that might be.

The witch hunts in the village where he used to live had been brutal.

His mother had been suspected of being a witch, tried, and ultimately killed.

However, she hadn’t been burned at the stake. She had risked her life to accuse her fellow villagers, and Huey had witnessed their many executions with his young eyes. He would never forget the screams of the girl he once adored as she burned.

Was his obsession with fire based in fear? Was it a reminder of his hatred toward the villagers who had accused his mother of witchcraft? Or did the memory of her enemies burning bring him pleasure?

Even he didn’t understand the current of his own emotions. If he ever did destroy the world, though, he hoped razing it with fire might be an appropriate method.

After all, to Huey Laforet, the world itself was something like a witch.

He had been trapped by the deep-seated delusion that it would be appropriate to burn it at the stake. As time passed, however, that thought had faded somewhat.

One of the culprits for that change clapped his hands at Huey in sudden realization.

“All right! You use your magic trick to startle the guards, while I’ll sneak onto the ship. How’s that?!”

“If you need a commotion, it would be faster to just start a small fire with some straw or something.”

Huey’s remark was its own sort of dangerous, and Elmer nodded in understanding.

“But just a little bit of straw, so it won’t hurt anybody, then. After all, if the fire spreads and a house burns or somebody dies, we won’t be able to smile.”

“Nobody said we were doing this. And why should I help anyway?”

“Well, you’d hate for Moni-Moni to kill herself, wouldn’t you?”

“…You know, for an optimist, you say things like that very easily… Wait, you think Monica’s death would bother me?” Huey was smirking impudently.

“Sure do,” Elmer told him.

“Why?”

“Because right now, your smile stopped being real. That’s all.”

“…”

One of Elmer’s special skills was seeing through faked smiles.

He just couldn’t get enough of other people’s smiles, and the skill might have been inevitable after so many years of observation. To people who weren’t in the know, he was so accurate that it seemed like mind reading or a kind of magic.

“…”

Huey was silent.

Setting a hand on his shoulder, Elmer smiled quietly. “Besides, you may pretend to keep pushing Moni-Moni away, but you’re being remarkably honest. You almost never show your true self to anyone.”

“Don’t act so smug. What do you know anyway?”

“Well, I know what your own eyes can’t tell you. Obviously.”

“…Quit splitting hairs.”

The wry smile was back on Huey’s face, and silence fell again for a little while.

Without revealing what it was he felt for Monica, he outlined his own course of action.

“For now, we’ll see what happens tomorrow. I’ll make up my mind after I’ve seen Monica myself.”

“What if she skips school?”

“…If that happens, I’ll go visit her. I’ll make up some excuse about seeing how she’s feeling.”

Huey’s answer made Elmer’s smile even brighter.

“Huh! See?! You do like Moni-Moni! That’s not an excuse; you’ll just be going to check on her, right?”

As his friend ribbed him, Huey wiped any emotion off his face, looked away, and muttered:

“Whether I like her or not isn’t the question here.”

“As long as we are the Mask Makers —for all practical purposes, both you and I share Monica’s destiny.”

Huey Laforet.

Elmer C. Albatross.

Monica Campanella.

The three were Dalton’s pupils and students of alchemy at the Third Library. At the same time, they shared a certain secret.

The Mask Maker.

They were affiliated with the serial killer who had once terrorized the town.

That said, neither Elmer nor Huey had actually murdered anyone. Their association had begun with Monica, who had acted in secret as the Mask Maker for her own reasons, serving as a witness to the suicides of a certain group of people.

However, after an incident in 1705, the Mask Maker had joined forces with Huey’s counterfeit operation to become a single organization.

Of course, the only ones who knew this were these three, and Huey directed the creation of the false gold from the shadows without revealing his own identity.

Elmer hadn’t done a thing, but he was the one who had allowed Monica and Huey to see each other beneath their masks, and he had become the glue that held them together. Even now, several years later, their odd relationship as the Mask Makers still existed.

The 1705 incident had exposed the town’s dark side, and the abuses against the children were finally rectified.

After that, Huey had avoided participating in the creation of the counterfeit gold directly, but he seemed to be pulling quite a few strings from the shadows. Elmer knew this, but he didn’t try to butt in.

Instead, he kept saying, If you have to scheme, at least scheme to help everyone smile, until it had nearly become his catchphrase. At first, Huey had been irritated, but over the past few years, that had softened into an exasperated smile.

It wasn’t clear whether he’d noticed this change in himself.

He simply maintained his identity as a student at Dalton’s private school, just as he’d always done, without inquiring into either of his friends’ pasts.

Today, once again, he made his way to the Third Library.

“Oh, honestly! I’m really sorry about yesterday, Elmer. I just started feeling sick all of a sudden. I wonder if there was something bad in my lunch.”

In a corner of the private collection room where their lectures were held, Monica smiled cheerfully.

The lessons hadn’t begun yet, and the teacher, Renee Parmedes Branvillier, was absent.

Monica and Elmer were conversing at a table that could seat several people.

Ever smiling, Elmer tried to dig a little deeper.

“Huh? But you said, ‘Why here?’”

“I meant, Why did I start feeling nauseous as soon as I got here?” Monica answered easily, and even to Elmer, her smile didn’t seem like a fake. It was perfectly genuine.

Sitting alone by the window a short distance away, Huey was watching Monica and Elmer. As he flipped through a book, he stole glances at them out of the corner of his eye.

At first, there didn’t seem to be any problems—but something felt off to him.

That smile was definitely Monica’s real one. If she’d been faking it, Elmer would have tactlessly pointed it out by now.

However, something did indeed seem different from usual.

What is it? What’s different?

With his eyes on his book, Huey thought on this for a little while.

Nothing occurred to him, but he couldn’t get rid of that sense that something wasn’t quite right.

……

It might be safe to ignore, but that discomfort still churned near the base of his neck. He glanced at Monica, one last time.

She was chatting with Elmer and the other students, and nothing seemed markedly different.

However—Huey noticed it then.

That in itself was clearly strange.

He’d been watching Monica for a while now, but she wasn’t turning his way.

Ordinarily, whenever Huey happened to glance at her, he invariably caught her paying attention to him. Even when she was talking to other people, or when they were in the middle of a lecture.

It had happened just a few days earlier, in fact, and he remembered being impressed. It’s incredible that she can look at someone’s face for almost five years without getting tired of it.

By coincidence, she was going a long time without so much as glancing at him.

Common sense told him there was probably nothing behind it, but it was also true that the odd sense of wrongness had formed a stagnant patch in his heart. He considered speaking to her, just to check, but—

“All right, thank you for wait— Eeeek?!” A woman shrieked before she could finish her laid-back greeting, forcibly ending the pleasant chatter in the room.

The individual who had snagged her own chest on a pile of books and made a spectacular mess in the private collection room was a female alchemist with glasses and a voluptuous figure.

A few giggles rose from the class in response to the woman, who happened to be their teacher.

Huey didn’t even smile. He sighed, deciding that talking to Monica would wait.

He took one last look at her, but as before, he didn’t manage to make eye contact.

As a matter of fact, Monica seemed to be intentionally not looking his way.

“And so you see, for bismuth, if you apply the method for inducing amalgamation during the refining stage—”

Renee was explaining something technical.

As the lesson went on in the usual way, Huey decided he’d do as he always did, too. He let Renee’s lecture go in one ear and out the other, dividing his attention between the view outside the window and the book in his hand.

After this had gone on for a while…

When he focused on the library’s front gate, he saw people who didn’t seem to belong there.

Soldiers?

The men wore sharp uniforms, and they were walking with their shoulders thrown back.

…No, the one in the lead… Is that a woman?

He’d based his judgment on her slightly rounded bosom and her facial features, but from where he was, he couldn’t be sure. His eyes were good, but he couldn’t state categorically that he wasn’t seeing things.

Well, I don’t suppose a woman would be going around dressed like that.

As Huey came to a common-sense conclusion, something occurred to him.

They don’t look like the city police.

But I don’t think those are official military uniforms, either…

What in the world are they doing here?

A faint alarm began to sound in his mind as a memory rose to the surface.

Four years ago, the school’s students had been falsely accused of being the Mask Maker and had very nearly been arrested.

Of course, it hadn’t exactly been a false charge in every case.

…I guess I’ll keep an eye on them.

He mentally mapped out escape routes, but the private collection room was on the second floor.

Planning for the worst-case scenario of jumping out the window, he kept his eyes on the door.

In the end, nothing happened before the end of the lecture. Wondering whether his nerves might be a bit strained, Huey looked over at Monica again.

As before, she didn’t look his way.

…

What is it?

What am I thinking?

Her annoying gaze wasn’t there anymore. That was all this was.

He was a bit irritated with himself for feeling so intensely that something was wrong over a matter so trivial.

Ridiculous. You’d think I was the one who had Monica on my mind.

As far as Huey Laforet was concerned, the whole world was his enemy. Fundamentally, that thought hadn’t changed since he was fifteen.

Right now, he was searching for ways to take sufficient revenge on the world, and what it would take to satisfy him. If the answer happened to be mass carnage, he’d probably do it without hesitation… no matter the consequences for him afterward.

He’d recorded the names of the people he’d met so far in a book in his heart.

Each of those names was labeled as an enemy.

These delusions were not unthinkable for an adolescent boy, but in his case, his experiences had made those delusions more of a reality.

However—after one specific incident, the word enemy was absent from Monica’s and Elmer’s pages.

What exactly were the two of them to him? Were they enemies like the rest, or were they allies who were worth spending his life with from now on? Huey wasn’t sure yet, either.

Maybe it was foolish to divide the world into groups as simple as enemies and allies.

Yet, Huey didn’t care whether he was foolish. It was just a reason why he had to be very careful in categorizing them.

Even now, after several years had passed, he still hadn’t decided how he should treat them.

In fact, he’d nearly forgotten about finding labels for them in the first place.

…It can’t be.

Huey had picked up on that change in himself, but he’d forced it into the depths of his heart.

I don’t find the ambiguity…comfortable, do I?

But…what is this, then? The end result of my transformation?

Once, Huey had felt a premonition. Ever since Elmer had come to this town, he’d suspected something inside him might change.

Had that suspicion become reality?

No, thinking about that can wait.

He gave a little sigh. Their break had begun, so he started toward Monica, who was talking with Elmer and the others.

“Say, Monica.”

“Huh? …Huey! What’s the matter?!”

When he called Monica’s name, she gave him her usual bashful smile, but Huey couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. If he could have logically explained exactly what was different, the irritation would probably have gone away, but the only words he could come up with were it just is. It irked him.

Not a shred of this irritation showed in his blank expression.

“I heard you weren’t feeling well after we parted ways yesterday. Are you all right?”

“Huh?! Oh, for goodness’ sake! Did Elmer tell you?! Honestly! Elmer, you blabbermouth!”

Monica turned to Elmer, who was sitting next to her, and pummeled his shoulders. To Huey, the childish gesture looked like a feint intended to hide her true feelings.

“I just felt a little icky, really! Don’t worry!”

“I see… And you’re all right now?”

“Uh-huh, I’m just fine!” Monica chirped.

Huey fell silent for a short while. In the space of those few moments, he glanced at the ceiling, the wall, and Elmer. Finally, he looked back at Monica with newfound resolve.

“You mentioned having a connection at the theater yesterday. Could we take advantage of that today?”

“?” Still smiling, Monica cocked her head, bewildered.

“I’m interested now,” Huey explained. “Do you want to go see that new play together?”

“…!” Her eyes went wide in astonishment.

She wasn’t the only one. All hell broke loose among the others in the private collection room, a mixture of everything from ten-year-old girls to young men around twenty.

(“Hey, did you hear that?!”)

(“Huey… Huey just asked Monica out! All by himself!”)

(“What’s gotten into him? He never seemed to care about her before.”)

(“That oblivious bookworm finally accepted her feelings!”)

(“Oh, Monica, well done, you! I’m so happy for you!”)

(“Dammit! I was hoping Monica would give up on him someday, and I was gonna be right there waiting!”)

(“Elmer, Elmer! What’s the matter with Huey?! Is he sick?!”)

(“Is it terminal?!”)

(“Nah, I bet he’s just lovesick! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”)

(“Oh, come on… First, that ship comes to port, and now even Huey’s lost his mind.”)

(“What does this mean for the town…?”)

(“Should we report this to Maestro Archangelo?”)

(“Maybe Maestra Renee will strip.”)

(“Yeah, let’s make it happen! Elmer, can you get her to?!”)

(“…Maybe she’ll do it for us if we make the room really, really warm! The guys will all smile, and once Reyney’s cooled down, she’ll smile, too… Incredible! It’s a perfect smile plan! I’m overwhelmed!”)

(“No, wait! I think if we just begged her, she’d do it for free!”)

When he heard the commotion, Huey’s expression froze.

Th-these people…

Apparently, his indifference toward his fellow fledgling alchemists was not mutual, and they were deeply invested in his relationship with Monica. They had been ready to give up after nothing had changed in four years, but here came this sudden development. They had been caught off guard, and the situation seemed to strike them as a rare type of entertainment.

…Wait, have they been calling me an oblivious bookworm behind my back?

Forcing himself to stay calm, at least outwardly, Huey looked around at the other students. The content of the commotion was already shifting to Renee, and he grabbed Elmer out of the fray by the scruff of his neck.

His face still blank, he hissed into Elmer’s ear. “…Why are you taking part in this like that’s the normal thing to do?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. If you’re too touchy, they’ll change your nickname from ‘oblivious bookworm’ to ‘tetchy bookworm.’”

“That nickname came from you?!”

“’Course not; I used ‘oblivious bunny.’ It just got changed to ‘bookworm’ somewhere along the way,” Elmer explained blandly, and Huey, still expressionless, was ready to throttle him one-handed.

However, conscious of all the eyes on them, he promptly released him and turned back to Monica.

“…Well, Monica? What do you think? It’s up to you.”

“Um… Th-the thing is, it depends on the day, so today won’t work. Next week should be perfect, though!”

“I see.”

Huey had intended to go that very day, and he felt a little let down. He started to return to his seat—but then he realized he was the focus of everyone’s curious stares. Cursing them internally, he left the classroom without another word.

“Oh! Huey, wait!”

Monica hastily followed him out the classroom.

After the two were gone—the babble in the private collection room started up again.

(“…Did they just elope?!”)

(“I bet they’ll skip the afternoon lecture.”)

(“I wanna skip, too. Maestro Archangelo’s giving that one, right?”)

(“I wish it was Maestra Renee…”)

(“Hey, Huey left because he was embarrassed, right, Elmer?”)

(“Of course!”)

(“He acts like he doesn’t care, but I guess Monica really was on his mind.”)

(“It’s just like Elmer said. He does have a human side!”)

(“He said Huey was just a little shy, that’s all!”)

(“So, if everything goes well with Monica, let’s all smile and congratulate them!”)

Meanwhile The Third Library, special reference room

“…This is a very lively library.”

The woman murmured quietly, listening to the laughter of the young people in the room upstairs.

The peculiar reference room was filled with fossils and skeletal specimens. A wide area had been left open from the back to the center of the room; considering the chairs that had been placed in the middle, the place could have been a sort of reception room, designed to let the owner of those articles boast about his collection to his guests.

However, the current guest—Carla—was focusing her attention not on the collection but on the man in front of her.

“If they annoy you, I can go quiet them,” replied the elderly man, Dalton. His wooden hand creaked.

Carla was meeting with the alchemist who managed this library.

While the room was spacious, it wasn’t enormous, so she’d had her subordinates wait outside. Currently, she was talking to the man by herself.

When she’d heard Dalton was an aged alchemist, Carla had initially imagined an old man with limbs like thin, dry wood. However, the man was built far more solidly than she’d imagined, and both his appearance and his imposing presence suggested he was a veteran sailor or a pirate chief rather than an alchemist.

The first thing to grab her attention was the hook-shaped prosthetic that sat on the desk. He was currently wearing a wooden prosthetic shaped like an ordinary hand, but if he’d worn the hook instead, he really could have passed for a pirate.

Carla spoke with dignity, refusing to let him intimidate her. “I believe you’ve already been informed by letter, but we are an envoy from the House of Dormentaire who will be staying in town for quite some time. Some of my subordinates may visit this library on occasion, and when they do, I would like to request your lenience. As a rule, we will do nothing to interfere with your other patrons.”

“‘As a rule,’ hmm? It seems to me that the situation was already far from routine the moment your group came to town.” Despite his jibe, Dalton’s expression was as stern as stone. “But at least you’re making the effort. Are you planning to present yourselves all over town this way?”

“We won’t be visiting private facilities or residences. We don’t wish to cause the locals needless distress. We came to greet you first because we heard the Third Library had particularly deep ties to notable aristocrats, and that you were under the patronage of Lord Boroñal.”

“I see. In essence, you want us to know you’re going to be setting up camp here in town, and to stay out of your way.”

“I don’t deny it.”

The demand was insolent, but Carla’s attitude was sincere.

If he underestimated her because she was a woman, he would pay for that mistake, Dalton concluded. He watched her closely as he responded:

“Now then…I hear you’ve come in search of a criminal who’s said to be hiding in town.”

“That is correct.”

“…Is that the only reason?”

Dalton raised one eyebrow, glaring at her.

Carla didn’t react. “Is something troubling you?”

“You shouldn’t ask another question before answering mine. You’ve essentially admitted to having ulterior motives… Well, provided you don’t disrupt the lectures, I won’t poke my nose into your affairs. No matter what you do,” Dalton said dryly. He let his gaze fall to the documents by his hand, as if to say he’d lost interest in the conversation.

“In that case, I’ll take my leave.”

Her errand finished, Carla bowed, then turned on her heel, but—

—as she set a hand on the door, Dalton called after her mildly.

“Oh yes. There is one thing I forgot to tell you.”

“Yes…? What is it?”

Carla turned around, still standing tall. Dalton gave her a whiskered smile.

“Welcome to Lotto Valentino, lovely young lady.”

Somewhere in town

“Huey, listen! Break’s almost over!”

Monica’s remark was perfectly natural, but Huey ignored it and kept slowly walking down the road away from the library.

Apparently, the girl didn’t intend to force him to stop; she just followed him at a similar pace. Huey stayed silent, and Monica stopped trying to talk to him. A quiet wind blew past them, keeping pace with them, too.

The clumsy young man and the lovestruck girl vanished into the townscape, with no words to say to each other. Both were nearly twenty, and yet there was something oddly childlike about the sight.

The girl looked down with a faint smile as she trailed behind him, as if this was enough to satisfy her.

However, the fleeting moment lasted only until they were alone in the street.

“…What happened?”

“Huh?”

Stopping on the hill road, Huey leaned back against the wall.

“Even I can tell you’re acting odd.”

“I—I am not. I’m just like always…”

“Don’t bother trying to lie,” he muttered, rather forcefully, and Monica stopped talking and looked away.

Huey’s suspicion now turned to certainty.

I knew it. She’s hiding something.

“What makes you say that?”

Her gaze averted, Monica asked another question. She still hadn’t admitted to anything.

Huey opened his mouth, then froze. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because you wouldn’t look at me.

Huey avoided Monica’s eyes, but only briefly before he fixed his attention on her.

“Don’t forget. As Mask Makers, our fates are linked. If you have some sort of change of heart, that could create trouble for me. I’ve been keeping half an eye on you, to make sure that doesn’t happen, so…I notice things. Even subtle ones.”

“…I see.”

She seemed convinced by that; her expression darkened, and she fell silent for a while.

The wind blew between them, and the time ticked by.

No one passed through the lane, and with no clear reason for either of them to move, the silence stretched on—until Huey finally sighed and asked Monica a question, his face serious.

“Is it something you can’t even tell me?”

“Yes,” she answered instantly, never looking up from the ground. There was a faint smile on her lips, but she wouldn’t let Huey see her eyes.

Huey wasn’t stupid enough not to know what that meant, but he wasn’t intelligent enough to dispel Monica’s worries, either.

“I see. Well, I won’t make you tell me.” Slowly, he walked toward Monica.

As her beloved came closer, Monica tried to turn away so that he wouldn’t see her face, but—

—Huey caught her right arm.

“Oh…” Monica widened her eyes in surprise.

“We’re too late for the afternoon lecture now anyway.”

“Um, uh, I… Huey?”

Monica cocked her head, bewildered, while Huey started pulling her up the sloping road.

“You can come help me kill time, for once.”

Lotto Valentino The market street

While Huey and Monica were walking along, ignoring the afternoon lecture—

—another young man had slipped out of school as well.

I wonder if Maestro Archangelo will be angry when he finds out three of us skipped his class. I’ll have to think up a way to make him smile tomorrow, Elmer mused as he was tailing a certain group.

He followed them carefully, never close or too far behind, mingling with the market crowds.

During the break, a little while after Huey and Monica had slipped out, he’d been gazing out the window and happened to spot this group. They were dressed like soldiers, but they didn’t seem to be from the regular Spanish army; he almost never saw anyone wearing clothes like theirs. Curious, he left the private collection room, went down to the first floor, and got close to them, then—

—on their uniforms, he spotted the same golden hourglass that was painted on the black ship.

So they really are involved with the ship. Now, what to do—follow them and sneak aboard, or just greet them directly and ask what’s going on?

Neither option was a typical response, but this young man wasn’t known for his powers of restraint, and he considered both options seriously.

Then, choosing the relatively more commonsense second option, he tried to shift from tailing them to approaching them.

The next instant—

—someone grabbed his collar from behind and forcibly pulled him away.

“Ugwamuh?!”

Flailing around in a panic, he pulled the fabric away from his throat, then looked back.

Standing there was a bespectacled man who was more than half a head taller than he was.

“What are you doing, Elmer?”

Elmer stared blankly back at the mild man for an instant, then broke into a smile and greeted him by name.

“Hello there, Maiza! It’s been a long time!”

“We met at the library just last week… Never mind that; what are you doing?”

The man looked between Elmer and the group that was a little farther up the road, then sighed as he realized the answer was more or less what he’d suspected.

“Elmer…”

“What?”

“You’re about to stick your nose into other people’s business again, aren’t you?”

Over the past few years, Maiza Avaro had changed dramatically.

The way he talked, dressed, looked—if anyone who’d known him when he was the leader of the Rotten Eggs had seen him now, they would have thought he was somebody else entirely. He wasn’t exactly more aristocratic now—he’d become more of a scholar, really—but either way, the people who knew him were surprised by the change and whispered about all sorts of things behind his back.

Whether the transformation was truly “growth” was debatable, but when most of the aristocrats saw the complete behavioral reversal in this son of an influential noble, they said, He’s finally matured.

Maiza didn’t attend the lectures with Elmer and the others. He was learning alchemy through what was essentially independent study, under Dalton’s instructions. Over the past few years, he’d read his way through practically all the books in the library, and by now, he could compile useful materials on his own.

Because his opportunities to visit the Third Library had increased, he and Elmer naturally had more chances to run into each other, and they spoke more than they had in the past.

Even before that, however, Maiza had known Elmer’s personality and how quick he was to take action, so he intuitively understood what he was about to do now.

“Still, Maiza, what a coincidence! To think we’d run into each other here.”

Elmer smiled, trying to throw him off the trail. Sighing again, Maiza adjusted his glasses with one hand.

“I suppose it was almost inevitable. I have business with those people myself.”

“Huh? Are they friends of yours?”

“No. I had a few concerns, so I was keeping an eye on them… And then I saw an acquaintance of mine sneaking after them.”

“Wow, that’s just like you, Maiza!”

It wasn’t clear what was “just like him,” but Elmer smiled and thumped Maiza on the back.

“So who are they? That group,” Elmer asked innocently.

“…You were trailing them when you didn’t even know?”

“I was trailing them so I would know,” the smile junkie answered easily.

Sighing for the third time that day, Maiza smiled as if he’d given up. “You really don’t ever consider the consequences, do you?”

The hills near Lotto Valentino

At an elevation even higher than the Boroñal mansion, there was a hill with a small clearing on top.

Behind that clearing was a forest, and in front of it was a view overlooking the whole of Lotto Valentino. Colonies of wildflowers grew underfoot among the rich-green grass.

This peaceful meadow was one of the places where the town’s lovers held their trysts, and every so often, couples could be found gazing over the town.

True to its reputation, a couple was there now, doing just that.

“…That was quite an uproar back in the lecture room,” Huey commented as they took in the view.

“It was,” Monica replied.

Although his face was still expressionless, Huey was engaging in the sort of small talk he would normally never have made.

“They seem different lately. I’m not sure how exactly, but I never would have expected them to get so worked up before.”

“I think it’s because Elmer came. He’s made everyone so cheerful. It isn’t just us, you know; he’s really good friends with everybody.”

“Which is a mystery to me, given every word out of his mouth is infuriating… Although, aspiring alchemists are all a little strange. Maybe misfits just hit it off with each other somehow.”

He’d meant to give a scathing critique.

But when she heard what Huey had said, Monica burst out laughing instead.

“…! Ah-ha… Ah-ha-ha!”

She didn’t usually laugh like this, and Huey was vaguely bewildered.

“? What is it?”

“Well, you—! Oh, that’s just too funny, Huey! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“? I said something funny?”

“You said everyone in the class was strange…”

After she’d giggled for a while, Monica answered him, wiping away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“…but you’re the one who gets along best with Elmer, Huey!”

“…!”

Huey widened his eyes, and he opened his mouth to deny it. But no words came to him, and his protest was ultimately just a breath of air.

He shut his mouth, defeated, and lowered himself to sit on the grass. Stretching out his legs, he looked up at Monica and asked her a question. His face was still blank.

“Does it really look that way?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Elmer does nothing but irritate me. He’s so optimistic, it’s disgusting, and I’m not even complaining, really. All he says is ‘smile, smile, smile’ without even stopping to wonder if I want to.”

“Uh-huh.” Monica nodded gently, and Huey asked her another question.

“I’ve wasted so much time because of him. And you still think I’m closest to Elmer?”

“I think wasting time with him means you are close, don’t you?”

“…”

Falling silent, Huey turned his gaze to the view.

The wind blew up from the ocean, rustling the flowers and grasses. Like they were laughing at him.

Now he was anthropomorphizing plants, and their imaginary gazes were embarrassing him. Huey heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to think about it,” he admitted with an ironic smile.

A hint of loneliness crept into Monica’s own smile.

“You know, I was always jealous of Elmer.”

“I know what some people think about our relationship, but I really don’t appreciate it.”

“Oh, n-no! That wasn’t what I meant… It’s just…you spent more time with him. That’s all.”

Monica sat down beside Huey and went on, staring at the sky.

“I met you first, Huey, but Elmer was constantly finding sides of you that I didn’t know about. That was…frustrating. Time was moving forward for the two of you, and I was just left behind.”

“…”

“But I like Elmer, too, so I couldn’t really hate him, either… Oh, th-that’s not what I meant! Just as a friend! Not the way I like you, Huey!”

“I know.”

Leaning back on his hands, Huey imitated Monica and looked up at the cloudless, blue sky. For a moment, he imagined what would happen if the heavens really did come crashing down.

Until only a few years ago, when he’d gazed at the sky, he’d wished for the whole world to fall into it and shatter. But now, imagining such a thing frightened him, just a little. He could see it in his mind’s eye—the world flipping upside down and plummeting into the sea of blue. Or maybe he was the only one falling. Either way, it made him shudder slightly.

Oh… I see.

He was putting the pieces together about what had changed inside him, and little by little, his conclusion was becoming clear.

I didn’t even want to think about it earlier…not in front of everybody else, but…

Glancing at Monica out of the corner of his eye, Huey slowly began to examine the answer he’d buried the depths of his heart before.

Maybe I’m actually just scared.

I’m afraid…of losing the relationships I have with Monica and Elmer now.

No, that’s not it. That’s a roundabout way of putting it.

I’m finally…starting to find the world pleasant.

That’s really all this is, isn’t it?

Smiling cynically at his own twisted nature, Huey spoke to Monica.

“You were wrong about one thing, though.”

“Huh…?”

“Elmer wasn’t the only one wasting my time, Monica. I wasted a lot on you, too. In fact, I met you earlier, so…probably even more.”

Monica didn’t answer. Between them was nothing but silence and the whisper of the grasses swaying in the sea wind.

Had he said something wrong? Huey looked at Monica to see her reaction, and—

—she was crying.

“Huh?!”

That comment was supposed to make her happy. But Monica’s face was set in a blank mask, and tears were running down her cheeks.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?!”

The young man ordinarily presented himself as utterly aloof, but this experience was new territory for him. He shook Monica’s shoulder, misunderstanding the reason for her tears, but—

“No, it— That’s not it. It’s not. I-I’m sorry, H-Huey.”

Gasping and gulping back her tears, Monica tried to force a smile.

He didn’t have to be Elmer to see how fake that smile was.

“Hey, don’t push yourself. Where did this come from?”

“…I’m…happy.”

“?”

“You brought me to…this beautiful place, and…and said that to me— Hic… It made me so, so happy. I was happy…you’d just…wanted to sit and talk with me… When you…told me about…yourself, I was…really, really, real-really happy.”

Monica didn’t try to stop her tears, but Huey didn’t think they were from joy.

“I’m…so stupid, aren’t I? Of course…we aren’t lovers yet, but…”

The tightness in her throat was gradually abating, but the waves of emotion kept coming.

Like her tears, her words became a flood spilling out in front of Huey.

“…but…but I was happy. You were here, and I was jealous of Elmer, but I couldn’t hate him, either… And that’s not all. Elmer dragged me into talking with our classmates, and then while I was talking to them… I didn’t think they mattered, but I started to like them… And then I liked you more and more…!”

“…”

“Ever since you took on…the secret of the Mask Maker… When the three of us started sharing the secret…it was like you and I had become one. I really felt like we were parts of the same whole! But that’s nothing compared with… This moment is… Now you’re just talking to me normally…and our secret has nothing to do with it…and I’m happy… I feel so lucky…and I wish…all of it would just…stay the way it is right now, forever…!”

Was Monica trying to hold herself together by telling him this? Could she no longer withstand on her own the pressure of the emotions churning inside her?

Huey thought that might be the case, but he couldn’t help her, either. He could do nothing but listen.

“But…that’s wrong. It’s all wrong. I…I—! I don’t have the right! I’m not supposed to…wish for happiness, but…I tried to forget about that… I tried to run…! But…! …—”

Monica abruptly fell silent, as if even she was no longer able to make sense of what she was saying.

She seemed to be frightened of something; she was shivering, and her eyes were darting every which way.

“Ngh, aaah, aaah…”

No longer able to control her emotions, Monica’s face crumpled in the beginnings of a scream, but—

—Huey wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

“…?! …Huey…?”

“It’s all right. I’m not going to ask you about your past,” Huey murmured impassively. He kept his eyes fixed on the town and the ocean, but his voice was definitely directed at the girl in his arms. “Maybe you did commit some unforgivable crime…but I don’t care. After all, you captured my attention as the person you are now.”

“…”

“We’re the Mask Makers, remember? It doesn’t matter to me if you’re broken. Even if your true self gets exposed and the whole world turns against you—”

Just for a moment, Huey looked at Monica’s face.

Watching her almost true expression, the young man murmured with just a little bit of pink on his cheeks.

“—I’ll make you a new mask.”

Huey Laforet was nineteen years old, and he’d spent many of those years entirely self-absorbed and hating the world with an obsession he couldn’t escape.

This was the first time Monica had brought a blush to his face.

It was also the first time in a full decade that he’d shown any interest in the opposite sex as such. His first blush had belonged to the older village girl he’d adored as a big sister. The one after that had belonged to her, too, when she had comforted him after his mother was accused of witchcraft.

Of course, he later learned she was one of the villagers who’d made the accusation.

Meanwhile At the port, beside the battleship

Facing the jet-black battleship, Carla, the leader of the envoy, gave a small sigh.

For heaven’s sake. What a farce.

This was a special vessel, and it had been designed to be larger than other ships while still having the same number of gun ports.

In addition to its military facilities, it was equipped with living quarters for nobles to use while they were onboard.

The ship’s main purpose was transporting members of the House of Dormentaire, but none of them had come along on this voyage, and no one in the envoy—including its leader, Carla—was using those special rooms.

When an aristocrat was voyaging with them, they were accompanied by an escort ship—but this vessel was built far more sturdily than any escort ship. It seemed, at the time of the battleship’s construction, the possibility of being betrayed by its own guards was taken into consideration.

To think they’d go to the trouble of sending this vessel on such a ludicrous mission.

During the voyage, she had lived in the same spaces as the men.

Of course, the sailors had underestimated their female passenger, and there had been attempts to attack her late at night—and seven of them had been hurled overboard as a result.

Actually killing them would have invited a mutiny, so she’d hauled them back up, but after she’d made an example of so many, the sailors had figured out she was as dangerous as a tiger aboard the ship, and they’d reached this town without further incident.

These men can follow orders, and that’s all well and good, but…

The envoy members who stood behind her were private soldiers who had been assigned to her by the House of Dormentaire. For seasoned soldiers, they didn’t have much initiative, but they were obviously well trained. The pragmatic way they carried out their instructions reminded her of a windmill grinding flour, and Carla found the expressionless soldiers a little eerie.

The way they took orders from her—without protesting, without joy—was a novel situation for Carla, but not a comfortable one.

It feels as if I’m the one being watched.

The soldiers stayed there without talking among themselves, even as they waited for orders. Carla silently stood before them for a little while, thinking about Lotto Valentino.

Her first impression of the town had been that it was peaceful. The market was filled with energy, and not even the footfalls of the succession war could be heard. In fact, the arrival of their ship seemed to have broken that peace and made the citizens uneasy.

The governor here, Lord Boroñal, was definitely an eccentric, but he didn’t seem like a bad person. As a matter of fact, she felt more kindly disposed toward him than to the majority of the members of the House of Dormentaire, although she would never say so aloud.

However, while she was walking through the town, she’d started to sense something was wrong.

It was the same inexplicable eeriness that she felt from her taciturn fellows in the envoy behind her. There was only a single church in the whole town, and even that one was just a tumbledown structure on the outskirts. She’d passed hardly anyone in the streets who seemed religious.

The town was simply too flawless.

Its people were polite, it was full of energy, and she couldn’t sense the languor that was present in every other town.

According to the information she’d been given beforehand, a band of hooligans known as the Rotten Eggs had existed at one point, but they currently did almost nothing.

Still, this is unnatural. It’s almost as if they’re afraid of something, as if they’re living model lives because they have no choice.

Esperanza didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would implement a reign of terror, and there doesn’t seem to be any other mastermind.

What on earth was adjusting the balance in this town? Carla couldn’t see the hand that moved the scales, and that gave her an uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t shake.

In the midst of this unsettling situation, she had one other cause for worry.

Just moments ago, up until she’d reached roughly the middle of the market street, she’d caught glimpses of a figure following her group.

He was blindingly obvious, but she’d wondered whether he was actually a diversion from someone else trailing them in earnest.

As a matter of fact, he was nowhere to be seen now, and she couldn’t sense anyone sneaking around.

What was that all about? I believe he was following us from the library… Was that Dalton’s doing?

Brief though their conversation was, she knew she couldn’t afford to be careless around the alchemist.

…But would he have sent someone to follow her immediately after that? Was he so desperate?

The more she thought about it, the less she understood, and Carla heaved another big sigh.

For heaven’s sake. What isn’t strange about this situation?

This mission has defied common sense from the very beginning.

A few months previously    Somewhere in the gardens of the House of Dormentaire

“Lotto Valentino?”

“Indeed. Surely you’ve heard the name, at least?”

The splendid garden could have been mistaken for the grounds of a royal palace. Almost everything in sight was some shade of green, lavishly displaying the extreme wealth of its owner.

In one corner of that garden, in front of the endless, sparkling cascade of a tiered fountain, Carla was facing the noblewoman she was to guard.

The woman wore an opulent dress, while a veil covered her face, hiding her age and the expression on her face.

Gazing at the fountain, the noblewoman spoke in a voice that was both youthful and seductive.

“I’ve received a message from our spy in that town, who reports that a murderer may be there. The very one who killed a member of our House of Dormentaire ten years ago, in fact.”

“? In that case, madam, couldn’t you arrest them immediately?”

“We mustn’t do that. I won’t explain in detail, but we would rather not have the incident become public knowledge. That is why we need to deal with the matter using only private Dormentaire soldiers… And I would like you to lead them.”

“…”

Her mistress’s request left Carla bewildered.

Carla’s field was security; the Dormentaires must have had other internally trained individuals who were more suited to this sort of job.

“My, was this appointment such a surprise to you? I’m sorry, my dear, but there are distinct advantages to sending a woman to that buffoon of a count. Don’t worry; I’ll ensure the men under you will be useful.”

The woman smirked, and Carla waited with her doubts well hidden inside her heart.

“I understand. I need to contact the spy, then either capture or dispose of the miscreant, correct?”

“Oh my! Slow down, Carla, darling! The evildoer is no more than an excuse, so you mustn’t search for them seriously. In fact, even if you do find them, you must leave them alone.” The noblewoman’s sultry voice seemed to tangle around her guard, confusing her.

Carla looked unconvinced, and the woman laughed as she went on.

“There are several rumors in that town, you see… Immortality, for example, and a new type of drug, and nuggets of false gold that only a discerning eye can recognize.”

“…”

When the word immortality abruptly entered the conversation, Carla began to suspect she was being teased. However, the noblewoman giggled, as if she had read Carla’s mind, and went on.

“You know Szilard, don’t you? Our old alchemist. He laughed at the prospect of immortality, too, but he was terribly interested in that false gold. He claims if we discover the production method, he can recreate it.”

“…So you want me to search for that method?”

“You’re so very quick, Carla, my dear; I love that about you. But as I’m sure you’re aware, cupidity is the family vice.”

“…”

Carla kept silent, not confirming or denying this. She didn’t feel qualified to evaluate the nature of the family she served.

“Gracious, you are so serious, Carla. I do like that about you. As for what we want—everything. All of it. The immortality, the false gold, and that naughty drug. It would be such a pity if the House of Dormentaire didn’t have control of it, don’t you think?”

A pity for whom? Carla wondered, but she assumed the answer would probably be everyone or something equally uninformative. She said nothing, though she wasn’t entirely content with the conversation.

But Carla’s feelings had nothing to do with this, it seemed, as the noblewoman gave a sultry smile behind her veil.

“According to my young spy, that town is like a miniature box garden, created by alchemists.” She sounded terribly amused by the idea.

“…”

“What I would like you to do, my dear, is smash its walls.

“…Even if it takes years.”

The present Lotto Valentino, the port

That was what had brought Carla here, but—

—to be honest, when she’d first heard her orders, she’d suspected it was a tactful way of getting rid of her. After the suggestion that her work would take years, especially over a fairy tale like immortality, this sounded an awful lot like exile to the hinterlands.

What sort of mistake could she have made? All the way here, she had been asking herself that. However…

…now that she was in the unsettling air of Lotto Valentino, she knew. They hadn’t been getting rid of her. What had been asked of her for this mission was exactly what her mistress wanted.

Even so… Immortality? Ridiculous.

As Carla thought, she was watching the port.

Now then, when will that spy contact me…?

The fact that their vessel was in port was already the talk of the town. As soon as it reached their spy, Carla was expecting them to contact her, but she knew nothing about the person except for their name.

Either way, she had been tailed earlier, and the townspeople didn’t welcome the ship itself, and so Carla decided to keep a warier eye on their surroundings.

A few moments later…

They were on their way back to the ship after they’d gone to inspect several libraries in the port area and the market street, and that was when it happened.

In a relatively deserted alley, two figures stepped in front of Carla’s group, blocking their path.

One was a tall, bespectacled, mild-looking young man.

The other was a youth, smiling gently.

?

The one with the smile… Is he the one who was tailing us earlier?

“…? Did you need something?” Carla asked them, coming to a halt.

The man lightly raised a hand. “Ah, I beg your pardon. You are the envoy from the House of Dormentaire, I presume. I am Maiza… Maiza Avaro. This is Elmer, a personal friend of mine.”

“!”

The Avaros were an aristocratic family whose influence in town was second only to the House of Boroñal.

Naturally, they were nothing compared with the House of Dormentaire, but she certainly couldn’t afford to ignore the power they held in this town.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Outwardly, Carla stayed as cool as she could manage. After giving a brief self-introduction, she decided to try to trick the two into revealing their true motive for connecting with her group.

“…Your companion seems to have been interested in us for a little while now.”

Assuming the smiling youth was the one who’d been tailing them, she hoped to startle a reaction out of him—but his response was far more straightforward than she’d been expecting.

“Right, that’s why I was following you!”

“…” “…”

The young man smiled breezily as he answered, while everyone else fell silent.

Meanwhile, Elmer—kept talking nonchalantly.

“In the future, I may try to sneak onto your ship and poke around, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d smile and forgive— Mrglmrglmmph.”

“Excuse him. He seems to be confused,” Maiza said pleasantly, keeping Elmer’s mouth covered. “Him aside, your visit has made the town’s residents rather uneasy. If you would at least clarify your motives to me, I can pass the information along to the other aristocrats and set the collective mind of the town at ease.”

“…I’ve told Lord Boroñal about the purpose of our visit.”

“As you are no doubt aware, he is rather difficult for the surrounding nobles to approach. I had hoped I might be able to help you spread the word more efficiently.”

Although Maiza spoke humbly, she sensed the deeper implications behind his tone: If you don’t want to cause trouble, be honest with me about why you’re here. She could have simply ignored him, but it wouldn’t be wise to get on the bad side of the aristocracy right at the beginning of her mission. Carla decided to relate the surface aspects of the mission to him.

“We’ve come to look for a criminal with ties to the House of Dormentaire. We have to apprehend them personally, for our own reasons. As you are someone who also has ties to the nobility, I hope you will infer those reasons for yourself.”

“…I understand. Well, that’s certainly a relief.”

Then, patting Elmer on the head, he went on.

“Elmer is rather eccentric, and he may end up making a nuisance of himself. If that happens, I’ll apologize for him as well. Do be lenient with him, please.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they parted ways, and the members of the envoy walked past Maiza and Elmer.

“I don’t often see women dressed like she was… At any rate, they know what you look like now.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“You’re planning to stick your nose in anyway, aren’t you?” Maiza smirked as he glanced at Elmer. “If they catch you, I’ve lowered the odds that they’ll kill you on sight, that’s all. Although, I’m not sure how much weight the House of Avaro will carry with them.”

“Is that right?! You’re incredible, Maiza! I bet you’re a genius!!”

“I wouldn’t be too liberal with that word. People will think you’re making fun of them. My point is, I’d really rather tell you not to stick your nose in at all, but you wouldn’t listen anyway.”

“Of course not! Oh, but if you’ll give me a good, hearty laugh for stopping, I guess I could consider it… Huh?”

Partway through his sentence, Elmer broke off, noticing something odd about the envoy making for the port.

Someone else had stepped into the group’s path, just as the two of them had done a moment ago, and seemed to be telling them something. On its own, that wouldn’t have been enough to warrant any special attention, but—

“That’s…”

“? What’s the matter? Elmer? Elmer?!”

Elmer was reacting strangely to something, and Maiza tried to thump him on the shoulder, but his hand swept through empty space.

Ignoring Maiza’s attempt to stop him, Elmer broke into a run.

Rather than going after the envoy, he ducked into a side alley—as if he was trying to circle around ahead of them.

“Your message has been noted. I’ll get the details from you later,” Carla said.

“…Yes, please do.” The young woman nodded in response. She looked no different from the town’s other women, although her expression was cold, and she probably wasn’t quite twenty yet. She was polite, but there was an indefinable shadow about her.

“…You seem out of sorts. Do you have some grievance with us?”

“No. My memories of this town are complicated, and so— Eek?!”

Before the gloomy girl could finish speaking, two hands reached around from behind her and covered her eyes.

“Guess whooo?!”

The next instant, Elmer took an elbow to the ribs and rolled around on the ground, laughing and groaning at the same time.

“Ah-ha-ha! Ghk…ha-ha! That was one heck of an answer! They call that an elbow in England; was that a pun with my name?! You were a few letters off, but if it’ll make you smile, I’ll gladly go by that instead! Gwah…ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…”

Meanwhile, the moment the girl actually saw him, the cloud hanging over her vanished. Eyes sparkling, she shouted his name.

“Elmer…? Elmer!”

While Carla was wondering what on earth was going on, and Maiza ran over and watched them with confusion—

—Elmer smiled as if he’d forgotten his pain and addressed the girl by name.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Niki… Did you find your place to die?”

The Memoirs of Jean-Pierre Accardo

Even to my eyes, the change in Maiza was positively bizarre. Can men truly alter themselves so much in such a brief span of time? I was astonished, but I also had my doubts.

Was his mild demeanor only an act, perhaps? Did he revert to the old Aile when no one else was around?

There was no way to discover the truth. Even had I been able to observe him when he was alone, it was difficult to imagine him giving long-winded, violent speeches to himself.

Returning to the subject at hand, the beautiful woman in men’s clothing and her entourage had come to this town in search of a criminal.

Or to be precise, that was what they claimed to be searching for.

Smeared as it was with alchemy and lies, the essence of Lotto Valentino was nearly a complete fiction. It would be a while yet before I learned this.

After all, at the time, I was terribly busy. My new play was proving to be very well received. I was summoned to parties held by my patrons nearly every day, and after returning home, I wrote out new scripts before the liquor had worn off. All my days were spent on such frivolities.

And indeed, frivolities they were.

I could have ignored the parties, but I welcomed them with open arms. More than the monetary investments, I wanted to hear my praises sung by many people. And I was hearing a choir.

At the same time, I held pride in the knowledge that what I wrote was not merely well received by my audiences.

I had a sense of purpose, that I was telling the truth of the world to those around me in an accessible way. I believe I spoke of it before… On top of attaining that sense of mission, I was showered with praise from those around me, and with more gold than I had ever seen before!

How could I possibly surrender such a life?! I had won the world’s acclaim, without selling my soul or fawning over anyone.

I had nothing to fear. No reason for guilt.

I had acquired it all through my own, genuine talents!

…Or so I believed. And I believed it from the bottom of my heart.

Now, upon reflection, I know I had sold a soul. Not my own, but the soul of another. His very life.

I had sold what was not mine to give, the soul of a stranger, and I had been paid in adulation.

Since learning more about alchemy, I had seen the underbellies of a variety of spheres. After my encounter with that immortal, the world had turned inside out for me, and I could not reverse it if I wished.

…

I am not making myself clear, I suspect.

Allow me to briefly outline the play being performed when that ship made port. While I hope its script may yet survive in your era, for the moment, I shall summarize its story here.

It was the tale of a boy who wreaks revenge on the world after being possessed by the arcane.

In his childhood, the boy’s mother had been persecuted as a witch by the villagers.

…The church is tenacious in its efforts to consign the savagery of the witch hunts to oblivion, and so in scripts to be performed in other towns, I avoided mentioning the witch hunts by name. However, in Lotto Valentino, I let the term stand.

At her trial, the mother was proved innocent of witchery. In exchange for her own life, she demonstrated that those who had accused her were the true emissaries of the devil. These included villagers who had protected the boy, who had made a great show of sympathy when his mother was taken away, who had been kind to him. This was nearly all the villagers, in fact.

The boy had been betrayed by his entire world, and then he encountered a real devil.

The devil told him, “I shall give you the power to burn the world to ash.” And so the boy became a master of true magic to take his revenge on the world. In the end, he found his humanity again and threw himself into the fires of hell, burning the devil away with him…or so the story went.

The talk of “magic” was window dressing. In fact, I was speaking of alchemy.

…Yes.

Perhaps you’ve already guessed from my choice of words; this was a tale based in the truth.

After the story had been related to me, I had adapted it into my own style and presented it on the stage.

I wrote this tale because this abhorrent reality, the history of the witch hunts, must not be erased from history. I was compelled by a sense of justice. What I believed was my mission.

The fellow who told me the tale had wept and begged, telling me he wanted the world to know this truth at all costs.

The one who told me the story…was Lebreau.

How did he know it? The answer was simple. He had been there in the village when this particular hunt was conducted.

Not as a resident, mind you.

No one knew whether the “inquisitors” who conducted the witch hunt truly belonged to the church—and Lebreau was the only son of their leader.

He had told me the story with tears streaming down his face.

He said he wanted to atone for the sins of his father and his father’s followers.

It was a past he wanted to forget, but he was unable to forgive himself for being so young and powerless.

He had intended to take it to the grave with him, but ultimately, he could not abide the fact that people were living without a care, oblivious to the horrors of what had occurred there.

However, no one would listen to him.

He told me he had become an alchemist in order to prove with solid logic what an aberration that witch hunt had been.

And so I wrote the tale. I had no choice.

Who would blame me? Who could possibly blame me?

I simply didn’t know. That is my only excuse.

I didn’t know. I—I just did not know.

To think that boy, who had been betrayed by the world and lost his mother, was still alive—was living right here in Lotto Valentino!

One week later Lotto Valentino, in front of the theater

“Um… I’m looking forward to this! Aren’t you, Huey?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know what it’s about.”

“Neither do I, but I hear it’s incredibly popular! The person who got us our tickets is a regular customer at my patisserie; he helps out at this theater, which is why he got them for so cheap. He says the story makes you think about love and relationships with people!”

“That sounds awfully trite,” Huey mumbled with a crooked smile. He glanced at Monica next to him.

Over the past week, she seemed to have returned to her old self. His concern for her surprised even him, but he was able to be honest about those feelings now.

Elmer and the rest of his fellow students had been teasing him nonstop all week, but even that had settled into a comforting constant.

…When did it start? When did my heart grow this peaceful?

He hoped seeing this play with Monica today would completely return her heart to normal. And he really did believe in this hope, which was unusual for him.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Is Elmer’s stupidity contagious?

His sigh was without venom, and he genuinely wished for Monica’s recovery.

He had no idea that the play they were about to see would shatter him.

Oblivious, he stepped into the theater—and waited for the show to begin.

Quietly, the curtain rose…and cast its dark shadow over the town of Lotto Valentino.