A Dark Place (1)
It was the hour when Kaidal-4's artificial sky bled into the colors of sunset. Office workers who had finished their day hurried along the road home—some bound for their houses, others, out of long habit, already hunting a drink.
Meat crackled as it cooked. Just in from the main street, the barbecue house "The Water's Good" was packed to the walls with customers greeting Friday night.
"Houssein's no third-rate."
"Even after a humiliation like that? We all saw him take one hit from Laurent and bawl his eyes out."
"Who wouldn't cry in that situation! Anyway, Houssein's not third-rate!"
For the record, Houssein had only put both hands up. He had not cried.
"Houssein's skill was the real thing. He put in real work getting to the round of eight."
"Knowing how to use it is enough, is it? Swing your strength like that and even a rabbit'll take your head. So Houssein's third-rate."
"Then how about we settle it? My justice against yours. We'll see which is stronger once we clash."
"You're on! I'll stake my house that Houssein's third-rate!"
"This crazy bastard's a real man! Then I'll stake my house that the guy's third-rate too!"
"......"
A duel—good for a man, grave enough to move a nation, the most precious thing in the world. Even a duel like that shed its weight the moment the price of a house was on the line, and in that sobering reality the question of whether the duelist Houssein was third-rate or not got shoved to the back.
There was no winner.
There was no loser.
All that came of it was that Duelist A, whose big mouth had been wiped clean at the speed of light, and brainless Duelist B, who had staked his house with no plan at all, recovered their friendship.
The two men called off the duel and, as on any other night, passed cups back and forth. In the midst of it, the door of the barbecue house slowly opened.
"The water's no good in here."
Zack, who had opened the door, knit his brow. Contrary to its name, "The Water's Good"—the place Laurent had recommended—was thick with the sweat of muscular men.
"Strange. There were assuredly many reviews declaring the water quality excellent."
"Big Bro, that ain't the kind of water they meant. This place is definitely famous for the purifier, it is."
Yass put in his piece. He had seen straight through the if I got burned, so should you school of review.
"We going somewhere else, are we?"
"No. We shall eat here."
Laurent caught Yass, who was already turning to leave. After missing the buffet twice, he was starving in earnest.
"Welcome! What'll it be?"
Once they sat, a part-timer brought water glasses for each of them, and Yass's and Zack's eyes went perfectly round.
"Mrow!"
"Gah!"
It was a face wasted on a shabby barbecue joint like this. A single blossom, blooming in the mud.
"Hehe, first time here?"
"That's right, it is!"
"Haha! First time! We're in your hands!"
Yass and Zack answered, shy as anything. The last words of a male and a man with no immunity to a beautiful woman.
"Pork belly."
That was when Laurent spoke. A beauty stood before him, and still he did not blush—he put pork belly in his mouth. He was probably not saying the part-timer's face looked like pork belly.
"Eight servings to start. Soju as well."
"Sure, I'll bring it right out."
The part-timer left with a bright smile. The ones who had taken a liking to her were Yass and Zack, but the one who received the smile was Laurent.
"Mrow..."
"Tch."
Yass and Zack. One male and one man, jealous of a knight. Petty jealousy, through and through.
Soon the pork belly came out, and several bottles of soju were set upon the table. Laurent grilled the meat with a skill befitting a knight.
"You grill it real well, you do."
"A knight's proper cultivation."
"How come, huh?"
"The hierarchy of a knightly order is absolute. A junior must grill meat for his senior."
"And pour the drinks too, does he?"
"Naturally."
"Then pour me one, will you."
Yass held out his glass.
"Impudent. Henceforth, there shall be no Churu."
"S-sorry, I am! I'll pour, I will!"
Yass seized the soju bottle and, with a humble posture, poured for Laurent.
"Well done."
"Mrow! Yass is good, he is! Good at everything, he is!"
Yass's ears pricked, pleased. One scolding and one word of praise, and the hierarchy stood upright.
"Can't stand the sight of it."
Zack shook his head.
As the drink went down, a cheerful current began to move through them. Two men and one male were celebrating victory in the round of eight. What sat on the table was soju instead of champagne, and what went into their mouths was pork belly instead of steak, but the mood was warm all the same.
"Who do you suppose we'll face in the semifinals?"
Zack said it in a voice gone loose with drink, and Yass shot his arm straight up.
"Some big burly brute, no question, it is."
"Why?"
"Intuition, it is. This Yass's intuition is talking, it is."
Intuition. Which was to say he had no basis at all. Laurent tipped his soju and spoke.
"You mean you are not certain."
"No, I am. Certain, it is."
"And why is that?"
"On the honor of my father and my mother and all my kin, it's certain, it is."
Yass was magnificent about it. He had staked the honor of his father, his mother, and every relative he possessed—and the fact that he had, in the end, staked none of his own was magnificent indeed.
"Hmm..."
Laurent said no more. He simply drank his soju and sighed over a barbecue house that failed to live up to its name. Hulks this way, hulks that way. Nothing worth looking at; close your eyes, and all that remains is a pitch-black future.
"What's wrong, huh? Closing your eyes all of a sudden?"
"O poet, you need not know."
"Aww, just call me Yass. It's nice that you call me a poet, but it's embarrassing, it is. I've never even written a proper piece, not once."
"I refuse."
Laurent ignored the request. An honorable knight, by his reasoning, must not take into his mouth a word fit only for deletion and censorship.
"Poet. That is sufficient."
At the sight of him insisting, to the very end, on poet in place of a name, Yass let his gloom show. But no one shared in that feeling, and Laurent, seated across from him, looked wholly unconcerned.
"I have never threatened you."
"Mrow?"
"I have never threatened you to remain, at that age, an aspiring wandering bard. That is what I said."
"M-mrooow!!"
Yass grew even gloomier. His expression flickered like a man who had gone all-in on stocks and ruined his house—for all the world an oversized cat—but the Gang held cats in contempt, and the words cat and cute were taboo, and yet...
"Cute kitty customer, this one's on the house."
Taboo, by nature, applied only according to whom one faced. The moment the part-timer offered the freebie with honey dripping from her eyes, Yass's mood shot straight up.
"That's right, it is! I am Yass! The cute, cute kitty customer, I am!"
"Mind if I pet you?"
"Of course, you can! Here, pet away, you should!"
For the part-timer's sake, Yass hiked his shirt up. Yanking one's clothes off before a woman one had only just met was a grave discourtesy, but superior beauty did, on occasion, smash social norms to pieces.
"Mmm, that's good. Right there, it is."
"So fluffy and soft."
"Kahaha. Tickles, it does."
"Oh my, oh my. How cute~"
The part-timer, who had been giggling for a good long while as she squished and prodded his belly, soon went off to her work. Even as she drew away, though, both her eyes were on Laurent.
"Don't get too happy, pal. She didn't comp you because she likes you."
Zack struck the heart of it. An analytical power practically on par with an AI.
"I know, I do."
"You know?"
"Course I do. Figured out ages ago it wasn't 'cause this Yass is cute, I did."
Zack's mouth fell open, as if this were unexpected, and Yass pointed at the plate of extra meat that had come free.
"This freebie's for Big Bro Laurent, it is. In a word, the part-timer noona fell for Big Bro, she did."
Their gazes sharpened. The jealousy-laced stares of a male and a man were sharper than anything.
"Laurent, isn't this a bit shameless?"
"Agreed, it is."
Laurent laid the extra meat on the grill. Whether the part-timer had fallen for him or not, he looked as if he could not have cared less.
Even if she fell for me, it's useless. I can't do a damn thing.
The Chivalry trait was strict about romantic nonsense, so Laurent simply went on grilling.
"Big Bro!"
"Why do you call?"
"Buy beef, you should!"
Yass's eyes grew round as saucers. The logic being that Laurent had taken the love, and so could at least put out some beef.
"Forbidden."
"Whyyy!"
"Forbidden."
Laurent would not allow it. Pork belly was permissible. Beef was not.
"Mrooow!"
Wanting beef badly enough, Yass at last resorted to his final measure. Since time immemorial, a man does not begrudge money for the sake of looking the part.
"Pretty noona! Come over here, you should!"
"What is it, kitty customer?"
The part-timer came over with light steps. The pretty noona—by Yass's account—bent at the waist and displayed every charm she possessed. Her V-neck was cut deep at the chest.
"Noona! I'll introduce my big bro, I will!"
Yass's eyes shone.
"This is the man, it is! This is none other than the hero-knight of radiant name, Laurent! The knight who judges senseless vermin and hopeless trash first and asks questions later! A hero who quit studying ages ago, a glory who ascended from his room, the legend of legends! Uh... and the destroyer of the universe, who smashes every worthless wretch lower than a dog, he is!"
"......"
Laurent turned his head. Zack turned his as well. The part-timer did not.
"You're Sir Laurent, aren't you? The one everyone's calling a rising star these days?"
"No."
"But the name and the face—you're clearly Sir Laurent."
"Not Laurent."
He spat the lie without so much as wetting his lips, without even swallowing the spit already pooled in his mouth. He held honesty to be a virtue, but honor was a virtue too, and so, for now, a lie came out.
"I am a knight. A nameless knight, nothing more."
"......"
"I said a knight."
A clumsy lie, and a dull story—but the world was wide and people were many, so to someone it might have been a pleasant conversation.
"You're a funny one. You won so easily on your way to the semifinals, I thought you'd be serious."
"...Y-you have my thanks."
"If you're staying on Kaidal-4, please come often. Come again, and I'll be sure to treat you."
The part-timer laughed softly and took her leave. And Laurent—
"Let us have beef as well. That is enough."
—suffered the first defeat of his life.
"Kya! The beef's delicious! Yass, well done!"
"Mrooow!"
Zack hoisted Yass up onto his shoulder. Payment for the beef they had gotten.
The money had been in Laurent's wallet, but the one who had drawn it out was Yass. A truly shameless act, and yet Yass was sorely lacking in any sense for such things.
"......"
Laurent smiled without a word. Even at the unexpected expense, looking at the two he was fond of, his anger was slowly coming undone.
Well past early evening, the lights of Kaidal-4 were dark as could be. The three of them walked the road without difficulty all the same.
They had left the barbecue house a good while ago and were on their way back to the hangar. Along that road lay a pleasure district awash in red light.
"A dangerous place."
Laurent did not look at the red light. A knight was the sort who guarded against debauchery.
He turned his face from the bright light and took the dark alley into his eyes instead. That was better.
Then his eyes met a man's. The man had his face screwed tight, as if something hurt him, and his pupils were completely unfocused.
"The hell you looking at!"
The man was not normal. Black beneath the eyes, cheeks gone gaunt—he looked like a sick man drunk on drugs.
An ordinary person might simply have run rather than deal with him, and no one would have thought it strange.
However...
Laurent was not ordinary.
"I am a knight!"
"What?!"
"A knight, I said!"
"A knight? So what if you're a knight! Huh! So what!"
The man drove a fist hard into Laurent. He had thrust with a clenched fist, so it was no light poke. Open hostility, plain as day—but Laurent took the blow.
Laurent's presence changed. To face a beast, one had to become the same beast.
"Me? This guy's crazy!"
The man's eyes rolled back.
They were eyes drunk on evil.