Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Improving the Constitution of a Modern Person (5)
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The rippling waves lapped against her bare feet. A bone-chilling chill seeped in, making her toes curl up.
The moonlight glared blindingly off the ice-crusted river.
Far across the frozen patches of river, the shadow of a towering tree loomed.
"You okay? Not uncomfortable?"
Erika quietly shook her head. Her disheveled black hair fell across her face.
"Then, is this far enough? Should we go deeper inside?"
Oscar eyed her with a worried expression, then suddenly scooped her up and headed deep into the cave.
The thick reeds along the riverbank hid the cave entrance, but since they were withered and dry in winter, it was wise not to count on them once the sun rose.
This was the outskirts of District 13, a natural area untouched by factories or housing yet.
The Myre River cut through Lüdelheim from east to west—a remote sandbar overgrown with thickets that few people ever visited.
When the White Crow Unit had hammered out their detailed plan, the toughest debate had been over the location.
They had to hole up undetected from midnight until the evening after next, so anything less than perfectly secluded was ruthlessly vetoed.
Georg had suggested the abandoned house he used for initiations, but it got shot down as too risky despite its isolation—being on the edge of a neighborhood and all.
Other candidates like rented warehouses and university basements came up too, but anywhere with even a loose connection to the members was nixed.
That was when Oscar dredged up this very cave from some long-buried memory.
It was where he'd ended up crashing when he first ran away from home to the city, wandering until he found a spot to sleep rough.
He'd stayed quite a while with no wild animals bothering him, and it was so out of the way no one even knew about it.
After fierce arguments, they settled on it, though the members still fretted.
But Erika? She didn't mind at all. Really.
Getting out here to this barren wasteland with no streetcars running was ordeal enough. Her feet throbbed like blisters after the long hike.
Today had been her last visit to her mentor before graduation. She'd dolled herself up as prettily as possible before heading out.
A flowing dress and expensive coat. Full makeup on her face.
Of course, now her clothes were torn, her body scratched and battered—a total mess.
"Alright, I'll get a campfire going here."
Oscar set Erika down on a relatively warm, dry rock inside the cave.
He unpacked his backpack, stacked dry firewood, struck a match, and lit it. Soon, cozy warmth filled the cave.
Once satisfied the fire was burning well, he pulled out a pistol, old clothes, a blanket, bread, and such.
He scattered them around the floor, then walked about in hunting boots, dress shoes, high heels—leaving footprints everywhere.
Now the cave looked like a secret hideout used by a bunch of people, no question.
"Whew..."
Finished, Oscar slumped down beside the rock where Erika lay. He hesitated, then pulled a white cloth from his pocket.
"Do we really have to do this?"
Erika signaled with her eyes that it was fine.
She couldn't speak because of the gag stuffed in her mouth.
The cloth wad filled her mouth so full she could barely swallow her saliva, and the thick ropes binding her wrists and ankles had chafed her skin raw and swollen.
Richard had questioned if they really needed to go this far, and Lucas had shot back something.
"It has to look as natural as possible."
Or words to that effect.
"No helping it."
Oscar murmured apologetically and blindfolded her with the cloth.
"Just hang in there a bit."
The world plunged into darkness. Fear amplified the pain.
She tried to relax her body as much as possible, but Lucas's pale face flickered in her mind.
"You okay?"
Last time they'd met, he'd asked so plainly.
During the discussion of who would play the kidnapping victim, when Erika volunteered, he'd stared at her and asked three times.
"You okay?"
She'd insisted she was.
"This has to stay secret from your parents. They'll be shocked. Still okay?"
She couldn't hide her cynical smirk at that.
"Dad won't even care."
"What about your mom?"
"..."
She was at a loss for words.
Her mother—what would that ghostly shell of a woman feel if she heard Erika had vanished?
"If you're doing this to rebel, it's not a good choice."
Erika shook her head at Lucas's indifferent advice.
"It'd be me or Georg anyway. But Georg..."
She glanced at Georg's serious face.
"He won't have the impact you're hoping for. The plan was always to frame me as the victim, right? Richard and Daniel have their roles, and Oscar or Georg aren't as well-known as me."
"True. But if you refused, I'd have scrapped the whole plan."
"For real?"
Lucas smiled.
"Nah, not really. Truth is, I don't want to. Please, Erika. I need your help."
His earnest plea eased her heart.
She must have dozed off for a moment. When she opened her eyes—or tried to, anyway—Oscar seemed to have left.
He'd covered her huddled, bound form with the blanket. It felt incongruously warm and snug given the circumstances.
Through the blindfold, she sensed the faint glow of the campfire.
Two days ahead. Or maybe three.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A languid night.
Waiting for Oscar to return, claiming he was on night shift. Pretending to drink with Daniel, a little buzzed.
To avoid Mrs. Schmidt's suspicions, whenever they had secret talks with Daniel or Oscar, they'd disguise it as a drinking session.
Real ones happened sometimes too.
Mrs. Schmidt worried that someone in poor health shouldn't drink so often. I'd laughed it off, saying it was nothing compared to before.
"Will the article really make it in? If that office chief moves faster than we think..."
Daniel asked suddenly.
"Doesn't matter. Rumors will spread one way or another. We've got Georg."
I rummaged through the stack of newspapers on the table as I replied.
"I know, but I'm worried something might go wrong."
"Worry all you want. It's already started."
Daniel gave me an unfamiliar look.
"Lucas, every time something like this happens, you seem way more suited to being the boss than me."
A snort escaped me.
"Out of nowhere. Fine, hand me the boss spot and do whatever I say? I'd drag the White Crow Unit straight into the abyss of doom."
"That's what I envy—your boldness."
"Empty words. It's just that unlike you guys..."
I'm not from this world.
I swallowed the near-slip.
I'm not from this world.
Whether my soul entered Lucas's body or I was remembering a past life from another world while living as him, I didn't know.
Even now, whatever lingered in this body—his ghost or memory fragments—was raging at the sight of the White Crow Unit, calling them scum who deserved to be torn apart.
Maybe acting even more extreme was my way of suppressing that. Possibly.
Of course, there was also the sharp premonition that if I didn't risk my life now, I'd lose it someday anyway.
"Unlike us, what?"
I grinned.
"I had an enlightenment."
"You're ridiculous."
"More importantly, sorry for making you stir up agitation and fabrications. A journalist's duty is pursuing the truth."
Changing the subject, Daniel's face grew solemn.
"Journalists have to be just, always report only facts, never bow to pressure?"
"Obviously. What, no confidence?"
Regret flickered across his face.
"Of course I want to be a righteous journalist, but I've already broken a ton of ethics."
"Ho..."
I'd pegged him as purely good and upright. Well, I'd long realized no such person exists perfectly, but Daniel had seemed different.
"Working at a newspaper that hasn't been shut down means that, Lucas. I've never written false stories or Leader praises myself. But the editors always slipped those in anyway."
Daniel sighed.
"If your plan works, maybe I'll quit journalism."
"Become a bar server, Mr. Journalist?"
"Yeah."
He seemed serious.
"I tried resisting alone to reform the press once, but nothing changed. Well, one thing did: work dried up the more I did.
When I realized the senior journalists fawning over Krüger had gone through the same and caved, I was devastated. Scared I'd end up the same.
Maybe that's why I agreed to your plan. If I have to write fake news, I'd rather do it for friends than Krüger."
It was a sudden confession.
I held back the rising buzz and listened quietly.
"Now I get what you mean. As long as Krüger's on the throne, these tragedies will repeat. To truly reform the press, we'd have to lop off his head first. Until then, the last righteous journalists will just get rounded up and killed."
Daniel's words were surprisingly radical. Unlike him.
A chill settled in one corner of my heart, even as giggles kept bubbling up.
It'd been nearly six months since I landed in this world.
As much as I'd thrashed wildly, the people of this world had changed too. The White Crow Unit friends, at least.
If I hadn't taken over Lucas's body, they'd never have planned this insane kidnapping stunt, let alone gone along with it.
"Daniel, I'm touched."
"What?"
They'd changed just as I wanted, laying the tiniest stepping stone to actually taking Krüger's head, finally taking that first step. I was so grateful.
"You've never opened up like this before. Feels like you've finally accepted me for real."
I laid it on thick on purpose, and Daniel flushed, looking embarrassed. How long could I keep seeing this pure, bookish innocence?
I wanted the members to corrupt more, more, more.
Only then could we overturn this damned world.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Administrative order! The office chief directs you not to run Daniel Hartmann's article in the paper."
The newsroom buzzed with its usual lively chaos.
Reporters who'd come in at the crack of dawn were skimming fresh prints when the official burst in, leaving them baffled.
"What's this about?"
The publisher stepped up, and the official irritably flashed his ID. 7th Grade Clerk stamped on it.
"One more time: Remove Daniel Hartmann's article from the paper. Here's the order."
The publisher read the paper he thrust out and scowled.
"Already distributed."
"Pardon?"
"The vendors took them already. They're out selling on commutes right now."
The official's face twisted in horror.
"If you'd come three hours ago, the presses were still running—we could've fixed it. Tsk tsk."
The publisher showed no fear. Everyone knew the so-called office chief was all hot air these days.
No matter how small the paper, censoring without cause was Ossel territory.
Not freedom of the press so much as Ossel steadily stripping the office of power anyway.
"G-go collect them now!"
"What?"
"Collect them! You defying an administrative order?"
The publisher inwardly grumbled that these orders were useless without Ossel backing—even beat cops ignored them.
But to the official, the chief was an untouchable superior holding his leash, no matter how much shit he took outside.
Finally worn down by the tantrum, the publisher sent staff out to retrieve today's papers.
'This won't stop the rumors, kid.'
He tsked inwardly.
Whatever tricks he'd pulled, Daniel Hartmann had landed a blockbuster.
Vivid memory of him barging in at dawn, panting that it was urgent news that had to run, arrogant as hell.
But the story was a jaw-dropper, so he'd halted the presses on the spot to rework the front page.
Then rushed the papers to the vendor boys with threats to hustle!
"Papers! Get your papers! Breaking news! Braithner Publishing's only daughter vanished last night!"
"Hey, you! That's a recall paper!"
Georg marveled at the red-faced official waving him down as he ran up.
"Wow, rumors are gonna spread like wildfire."
Feigning ignorance, he waved The Center—the paper called that for "Die Zetrom."
"Breaking news!"