You Beyond the Mirror
The Salvatore syndicate headquarters in Maexter. An antique wooden desk bearing a plaque that read Underboss was buried beneath stacks of documents.
Every one of them was an urgent matter that needed to be resolved before the day was out. Yet the person responsible for handling them could not bring herself to touch a single sheet.
“Haaah.”
Salvatore’s Underboss, Andrea Belua, let out a long sigh. For some time now she had done nothing but sit there, sighing repeatedly.
Damn it. I can’t focus at all.
She had tried to force herself through it, but what could not be done simply could not be done. Each time she picked up a document and tried to read the words, memories she desperately wished to forget kept surging up and clouding her sight.
From Hector.
I’m dying in a year.
Hector… is dying?
Hector and death. In truth the two had never been distant. Hector had always lingered at death’s side, and death had gladly yielded its place to him. They could become one at any moment. No one in the world would deny it, because death always lurked wherever Hector went.
Yet at the same time, no one ever imagined Hector’s own death.
Because…
“You’re stronger than anyone, aren’t you.”
He was stronger than anyone, after all.
Belua realized she had spoken the words aloud and flinched, hurriedly covering her mouth.
What am I even saying…
No matter how hard she tried to picture it, the image refused to form. That Hector could die. Did such a thing even make sense?
He was the man who could collapse an entire organization alone. No magic or trap could hinder him; swords honed across lifetimes became nothing but scrap iron in his hands.
Even the Sword Saint, hailed as the empire’s strongest blade, had abandoned any thought of killing him. And now that same man was supposed to die within a year?
Belua shook her head at the empty air.
Yeah. It’s nonsense.
From the beginning, the true nature of that text floating in the void had been uncertain. From what she had confirmed, the golden letters had spread from Moonchild across the entire continent, visible to everyone.
Magic required painstaking effort even to produce a simple fireball. Given the scale, not even an archmage would dare attempt it.
Above all—
Hector can’t use magic at all. How could he have cast some unheard-of spell?
Hector was a pure physical fighter who knew nothing of magic. There was no possibility he could wield advanced grand sorcery. Once her thoughts reached that point, the tightness in Belua’s chest eased. The phantom image of Hector that had haunted her grew faint.
Even when she lifted the documents from her desk, her head no longer spun. She returned to her tasks with a refreshed mood. She never questioned the small hum that escaped her lips, nor why her spirits had lifted.
How much time had passed? The mountain of papers on her desk had begun to dwindle when a light tapping sound shattered the quiet.
Knock, knock—
The heavy oak door clicked open and a man and woman stepped into the office.
“Hello~ Our little darling. Have you been well?”
The woman who entered wore a dazzling red dress. Her wavy, wine-colored hair fell to her waist, and her vivid red lips created an enchanting aura. This was Silvia, one of the seven Capos who upheld the Salvatore syndicate.
“If you’ve finished your work you should have contacted your big sister.”
“Silvia. Show some restraint. Lady Belua is the syndicate’s Underboss. She is your superior.”
The man with striking streaks of white in his black hair yanked Silvia aside like unwanted baggage. Kroon Arslan. Another of Salvatore’s Capos.
“It’s all right, Arslan. I rather like it.”
“Please don’t indulge her. She’ll only develop bad habits.”
“Am I a dog?”
“You’re worse than one.”
Having neatly ignored Arslan, Silvia turned a bright, beaming smile toward Belua.
“So. Did you send that scoundrel Hector off properly?”
“Yes. As agreed, he left the moment his final mission ended.”
“Haa. You’ve endured so much. I still don’t understand what the Boss saw in that butcher that he raised him all the way to Chief of the Guard. Thanks to him our poor baby had to suffer… Ack! You crazy bastard!”
“Your unnecessarily huge ass is taking up all the space. Move. You’re annoying.”
Silvia’s sentence was cut short. Arslan had clicked his tongue and driven his military boot squarely into her shin. Belua gave a small laugh at the sight of Silvia leaping up and Arslan plugging his ears as if the noise were unbearable.
“Haha. You two are as close as ever.”
“Belua… Even if your voice sounds like an angel, I can’t let that one pass.”
“Underboss. Are you fond of insubordination?”
Arslan set the documents he had carried on the desk.
This is bad timing.
Belua struggled to keep her expression neutral and was wondering how to handle the new papers when—
“Ah. Now that I mention it, Belua. Did you see it too?”
“Pardon?”
“That golden text.”
Her breath caught. Her hand froze mid-motion, but the two Capos before her continued without pause.
“I was shocked when I first saw it. I thought a real oracle had descended from the heavens.”
“Oracle or not, the content is the problem.”
“Why? I thought the content was rather nice.”
“Have you never considered that might be the issue?”
Arslan pressed his temples as though suffering a headache.
“No matter what, he was the Chief of the Guard. Reactions inside the organization are split far too extremely. At this rate fights might break out.”
“Diamente and Sole already went at each other, didn’t they?”
“That’s the least of it. Chloe has shut herself in her room and refuses to come out.”
“I nearly got stabbed trying to calm her down. Why are they all so desperate to sympathize with that human butcher… It’s so unfair I could die. Why act like this now when they should have treated him well while he was still here?”
“Who knows. Probably because none of them had ever considered it before.”
He did not speak the rest aloud, yet everyone present shared the same thought. Belua’s fingertips began to tremble. She hurriedly changed the subject. Continuing this topic any longer felt impossible to endure.
“Um… what is the content of these documents? Weren’t you delivering them?”
“Yes… It is rather important, so Elena asked me to bring it personally.”
Arslan stroked his beard with a grave expression and continued.
“There was a spy planted inside the personal guard.”
“…Pardon?”
“Elena discovered traces while cleaning up the scene. The intrusion was recent, but they had prepared quite thoroughly. I suppose we should call that fortunate. They all died during the previous mission.”
“Hmph. That idiot’s fault again. That muscle-brained oaf never does anything right. What was he doing instead of managing his own front yard?”
Silvia crossed her arms and thrust out her red lips in a pout. The sneer that played at the corner of her mouth was thick with unconcealed contempt.
Unlike Silvia, Arslan raised a slightly different point.
“Well. My thoughts differ somewhat.”
“What?”
“Underboss. I believe you share a similar view, do you not?”
Arslan looked straight at Belua. Her complexion had turned deathly pale.
The personal guard existed under the direct command of the Boss and Underboss. Therefore the selection of its members naturally fell to Belua herself. Authority and responsibility were one. If a spy had infiltrated their ranks, the punishment should fall entirely upon her.
However—
—Where are all the members?
—What are you asking? They got dragged into it and searched.
—…Do you even realize you are the Chief of the Guard?
That responsibility had vanished together with the faults Hector committed on the mission.
Why… did he do that?
Only one thought rose in her mind.
Because he’s going to die soon anyway.
Death embraced everything—even Salvatore’s merciless retribution. Therefore Hector had chosen to retire while shouldering every sin. After all, he would die regardless.
But…
Belua closed her trembling eyes and barely steadied her heart.
“Arslan. Your assumption is missing one crucial piece. It only holds if Hector is truly terminally ill.”
The tremor in her pupils subsided. She could state it with certainty. Hector could not use magic. Even if a high mage had assisted him, the text had appeared immediately after she parted from Hector. The timeline made it utterly impossible. Therefore this phenomenon was closer to political sabotage aimed at Salvatore.
“Do you object to my conclusion?”
Yet Belua’s confident bearing did not last. Arslan and Silvia exchanged awkward glances. Arslan spoke first.
“Underboss. Elena has already finished investigating the phenomenon. It is written in the report… It appears you have not yet seen it.”
“You know that relic delivered to Hector? A very old document contained information about it. That relic was originally a communication device from another dimension.”
“…What exactly are you two saying?”
Belua’s voice shook. Once again Arslan took the lead.
“The golden letters that filled the sky were, according to all evidence, written by Hector himself. Underboss.”
From Hector.
I’m dying in a year.
Her heart dropped straight to the floor. The shattered puzzle pieces of truth she had desperately denied began snapping back into place with a sickening, spine-chilling sound.
The relic. The communication device. And Hector, who had taken that relic.
The scene before her warped grotesquely; nausea surged as though the ceiling and floor had reversed. With a hideous scrape of chair legs across the floor, Belua shot upright.
She clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted from the office like a frightened beast. Silvia’s startled cry echoed behind her, but nothing more reached Belua’s ears. She no longer possessed the sanity to answer.
Breath locked in her throat, she sprinted down the long corridor, slammed open the bathroom door, and gripped the ceramic sink as if to shatter it while expelling the breath she had been holding.
“Huk… huk… Hic…!”
Harsh gasps that felt as though her lungs would tear. The moment she raised her bloodshot eyes—
In the transparent gaze reflected beyond the mirror, one man’s image was etched with painful clarity.
Across a pure-white snowy plain stained with blood. Smiling sorrowfully as always, the monster who had seemed he would never fall. Hector stood there.
Just where the hell is this place I’m standing?
“Hey. Miss. Maybe you don’t know any better, but you can’t go around acting like that here.”
“What are you talking about? If you mean grabbing a passing woman and harassing her, that’s something you shouldn’t do anywhere on the continent, not just in Moonchild.”
“No, that’s not—! Can’t you see the tattoo on my neck? I’m with Salvatore. I may be a low-rank grunt, but you can’t possibly be ignorant of what happens if you mess with us. Besides, this is Moonplace. It’s Salvatore’s territory!”
“That’s right, miss. If my first love had gone well I’d have a daughter about your age. That’s why I’m giving you advice.”
“So those were the thighs you wanted to grope. Noted.”
The bustling scene visible through the bars, the stale odor, the meager sliver of light that barely entered, the prisoners who kept whining, and the scolding guard.
Yes. In the end, I had been arrested.