Do Your Best and Wait for Man's Will (1)
After wrapping up my productive conversation with my "friend," I returned to Greenwich and summoned my security chief.
"Are you saying the Americans want that dagger?"
Pavel asked, his eyes fixed on the weapon resting on the table.
"I only used it because it was handy, but it seems to be far more important than I thought. I had no idea those people would be so interested in it."
Even after giving W my consent, I managed to squeeze out a few more pieces of information that might aid in my pursuit. A down payment of sorts. One of the things I discovered was the name of this very relic.
"The name is... Prajna-bara... How do you read this?"
"Prajnaparamita Sutra. It's Sanskrit. Literally translated, it means something like 'The Book of Wisdom that Leads to Nirvana.'"
In Sanskrit, Prajna translates to Banya (wisdom). Paramita is, of course, Baramil (perfection/reaching the other shore). The final word, Sutra—as anyone familiar with the Kama Sutra, that collection of sexual positions, would know—simply means a book or scripture. Put them together, and you get the Heart Sutra. The core essence of these teachings is what makes up the Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra.
The exact name didn't particularly matter, so I decided to just call it Paramita.
Pavel tilted his head.
"But no matter how you look at it, this isn't in the shape of a book, is it? To anyone else, it's clearly a dagger."
"Right? I suppose those metaphor-loving Buddhists named it after their scripture. Even if it's not the 'soul' that mages usually talk about, they still have concepts like nirvana and samsara, don't they?"
"That certainly makes sense. Especially since this relic's ability is so closely tied to the soul."
I readily agreed and tossed out a hypothesis.
"Yes, because it can manipulate the soul of anyone pierced by its blade, using blood as a medium. Who knows? Maybe if you herd all your negative, worldly desires into one corner of your soul and excise them like a surgeon with a scalpel, that itself is nirvana."
I doubted true ascetics would look kindly on relying on an external tool like this to achieve enlightenment. But regardless, the existence of such a relic was an undeniable fact. And besides, the name of a Buddhist scripture wasn't what mattered most here.
"Come to think of it, if it's Sanskrit, wouldn't it be from India or thereabouts? How did such an object end up all the way in Northern Ireland?"
It was a natural question for Pavel to ask. I smirked and replied.
"What else? Once again, it was due to the brutish greed of the British."
"Ah. I think I get the picture."
"Right? It's a relic that should have ended up in their museum of stolen goods, but it seems one of the soldiers in the expeditionary force pocketed it."
The history of the relic Paramita, as told by W—Matthew W. Lewis—stretched back to the British occupation of Lhasa, Tibet. In 1903, the not-so-Great British Empire had launched a forced invasion of Tibet, then under the Qing dynasty's sphere of influence, to block the Russian Empire's southward expansion. Once they captured the capital, Lhasa, they asked, "You have absolutely nothing to do with Russia, right?" and proceeded to pillage and murder until they received the answer, "Yes, we have nothing to do with them." Unbothered by what neighboring nations thought, our dear 'Country of Gentlemen' finally withdrew from Tibet only after squeezing out the exact answer they wanted, saying, "Right then, carry on."
Of course, they were just as obnoxious when they withdrew as they were when they invaded. In the process, it was only natural that Buddhist cultural heritage across Tibet was subjected to all kinds of looting. There was no way the British, fascinated by the mysterious and exotic East, would pass up valuable-looking Himalayan relics. While some items went straight to museums under the British authorities' systematic sweeping, items pocketed by individual soldiers and officers were simply buried in the passage of time.
Paramita clearly belonged to the latter category. Since the British Empire at the time colonized not just Northern Ireland but the entire island of Ireland, it wasn't strange for Irishmen to be mixed into the expeditionary force. Afterward, the Himalayan relic must have drifted around the island until it fell into the hands of a mage who discovered its magical properties. At the end of that chain of custody was the IRA's Declan Mackin, and now, me.
"Now that we know the background, the real question is why on earth the Americans are targeting it..."
Pavel nodded, taking a seat on the sofa opposite me.
"That's what I intend to find out from now on. If it turns out to be truly vital, it could serve as a powerful bargaining chip in its own right."
"Do you actually intend to hand over the dagger if they demand it?"
I furrowed my brows at Pavel's question.
"Only after I see what's what. If possible, I'd prefer to keep it."
I am an incredibly greedy person who hates letting go of anything that has once entered my possession. Be it people or objects. Money can always be earned again, but people and relics cannot. Therefore, it was only reasonable to consider Paramita not for sale.
"I'm curious to see how the Americans will react. I wonder what they'll do if they ever find out what you're really thinking, Miss."
"It'll be one of two things. Either they'll come to crush our Syndicate without a second thought, or they'll swallow whatever fake excuse I offer, just like how they acted completely clueless last time."
"The latter would be preferable."
I nodded in agreement.
"With that in mind, I plan to run a two-track strategy for now. So we can respond to either scenario."
"You mean preparing for both a hardline response from the Americans and a peaceful acceptance?"
When people hear "two-track," most of them, like Pavel, assume it means choosing two mutually exclusive strategies. So, I shook my head.
"No. I'm betting on the fact that the Americans won't take a hardline stance."
"Pardon?"
It was roulette once again. What I was about to do was the groundwork to paint all the red slots pitch black. Thus, the two strategies I spoke of were as follows. I held up my index finger.
"First, find out why the Americans are so interested in it. Only by knowing that can we understand why Paramita is so important."
Next, I raised my middle finger.
"Second, find a way to keep Paramita without raising their suspicions. I'd hate to go through all the trouble of finding out how important it is, only to have it snatched away right before my eyes."
I intended to have both. Had I not mentioned it? I am an incredibly greedy person.
Pavel chuckled.
"Indeed, that is the most 'you' plan possible, Miss. Although our circumstances have changed drastically compared to the past, it's reassuring to see that your core essence remains unchanged."
"Is that so? Since you've known me the longest, you must be right. I'm glad to hear I'm consistent."
I said as I sipped my black tea, heavily laced with sugar and milk. I used to not care for sweets this much, but I suppose my tastes changed along with my body. I wondered if he would call even this habit typical of me. Well, as long as it was sweet and delicious, it didn't matter.
Pavel thought for a moment, then asked.
"So, Miss, didn't you summon me because you have a favor to ask?"
"Exactly. I want you to handle the rear. There are still remnants of the IRA kicking around, so why don't we just pin the theft of Paramita on them?"
"I see. So that's the mission."
A scenario where the Syndicate snooped around to find Paramita on behalf of the Americans, finally located it, but found it ruined beyond repair during the raid should suffice. Whether they would believe it was another story, but we would make them believe it.
I casually added a caveat.
"As long as you're confident you won't get caught, you can mobilize not just the security department but all of the Equinox kids as well. The intelligence department will also assist you from the shadows, within safe limits."
"Does that mean..."
"Yes, complete freedom. Go wild and do whatever you want. You deserve a chance to let loose once in a while, don't you?"
"My, that places a heavy burden on my shoulders. You've given me far too generous an opportunity."
Generous, my foot. He knew exactly how much I trusted him. I smiled and asked back.
"So, do you dislike it? Who knows, if you bring back solid results, the Americans might throw us some useful information we can use at the ball."
"Of course I don't dislike it. In fact, I'm delighted."
I chuckled, encouraging Pavel. He needed to burn his passion somehow, after all.
"Right? It's a rare chance to save your precious person with your own hands. You don't want to see Delis sold off to the Marquis any more than I do, so let's give it our all."
Afterward, I continued my own research as a mage. This was an investigation to discover why the Americans were so obsessed with Paramita. The first order of business was to procure fresh flesh and souls.
It wasn't particularly difficult. All I had to do was take a stroll through the city, find someone with a healthy body and a clean soul, and immediately lure them in using Charm.
Of course, I couldn't just do this to anyone. If I carelessly abducted someone who turned out to be a member of the high society, or their child, or grandchild, it would cause a massive headache. There was no need to stir up unnecessary trouble, so I mostly frequented the slums.
Even among those at the very bottom of society, shining gems were bound to exist. In places untouched by the light of social safety nets, there was an abundance of brilliant souls whose disappearance would go entirely unnoticed. Though their average physical health left something to be desired, it was a minor flaw I could easily overlook.
Still, drawing attention to myself was never a good idea. So, instead of wandering around alone, I introduced a slight variation to my routine.
"Excuse me, you there. Would you like to spend some time with me today?"
Among the Syndicate's paper companies was an enterprise established for the purpose of poor relief. And the work this enterprise did included running soup kitchens in the slums. There was no better way to gather the dregs of society who lived day-to-day.
Although the proportion of healthy individuals was lower compared to the well-fed and well-off, as long as the sample size was large enough, people possessing flesh and souls that met my standards were bound to appear.
As Charm took effect, a man stood before me, his gaze growing vacant. He had probably come just to get some bread and fish and chips, but now he was merely staring blankly at me, dressed in an outfit that accentuated my chest. My long skirt, much like the dresses I wore in Northern Ireland and the casino in Marseille, had a high slit on the side for ventilation, drawing even more attention to my legs.
"Uh... spend time together...?"
"Ahaha, it's nothing major... I just took a liking to you. I'd love to treat you to dinner."
Even without Charm, if someone with my appearance dressed up decently and approached them, the response was bound to be overwhelmingly positive. Suspicions? Let them doubt all they wanted. There were plenty of people, and if they kicked away such an opportunity, they only had themselves to blame.
As such, my procurement of flesh and souls was primarily targeted at men rather than women. I knew exactly which demographic my looks worked best on, and I had no intention of letting this newly acquired talent go to waste.
Thus, just a few hours later. The homeless men were dragged one by one into the basement of the Southend monastery, gagged and blindfolded, where their souls were ripped from their bodies by Paramita. I hadn't exactly lied to them. After surviving on fast food every day, they got to cut into a thick steak for their final meal, so treating them to dinner wasn't technically a lie.
At first, I sliced at their souls using Paramita's conventional method, but then I began to turn the blade this way and that, wondering if there might be other ways to utilize it.
Hmm... Is this not it...?
It wasn't something I could figure out easily. If it were the kind of thing that succeeded in just one or two tries, someone would have done it long ago.
Then... what if I try it like this...?
The clue to understanding lay in the act of grafting souls. Drawing inspiration from the fact that Paramita operated through the medium of blood, I applied the same concept to the soul. Just as matching blood types made transfusions easier, perhaps souls with more common denominators could be grafted together with less resistance.
The result was a half-success. When I experimented by swapping and grafting the souls of two homeless men who had become my prisoners, one soul ended up devouring the other. To my mage's eyes, the soul hadn't vanished into thin air; it had been completely absorbed.
I shoved aside the man whose soul had been consumed, now useless, and shifted my gaze to the body that now housed the equivalent of two souls.
The rejection response is immense...
It was, of course, within the realm of expectations. Perhaps due to the severe blood loss from being repeatedly slashed by Paramita's blade, the test subject had long since gone into shock and lost consciousness. Nevertheless, the ripples generated by the fusion of two different souls were manifesting physically.
"Guh... ugh..."
The body thrashed as if having a seizure. If his limbs hadn't been securely bound, it wouldn't have been surprising if he had fallen off the table long ago. Watching the unconscious body writhe and convulse so violently made me think of a zombie movie.
I clicked my tongue in sheer amazement. It was an entirely unexpected application, and though I was still doubtful about how this could be used in any meaningful way, it felt like I had at least found a breakthrough.
The fusion of the souls finally concluded after another two hours of convulsing. Through my mage's eyes, the total volume of the soul was only slightly over 140, even though 100 and 100 had been added together. The rest had clearly evaporated during the absorption process.
Naturally, the unstable fusion didn't last long. In the process of the souls merging, the body had lost an immense amount of nutrients and arterial blood, and my medical treatment was far from sufficient to restore it. The fact that I saw no reason to treat him also played a part.
Just before the body's vital functions ceased and the 140-strength soul could disperse, I calmly observed the forcibly bound soul through my mage's eyes. It possessed all the characteristics of the original host soul, but the traits of the absorbed soul were also visible here and there. In other words, if viewed through a mage's eyes rather than physical observation, it would be difficult to quickly distinguish whether this soul belonged to the original body or the absorbed one.
Naturally, my thoughts drifted toward how this could be applied in other ways.
For instance... couldn't this be used to bypass the Soviet barrier?
The method that barrier used to detect me across the vast red territory was undoubtedly through the soul. It would be designed to pinpoint only a witch's soul. If so, if I wrapped myself in the completely harmless souls of ordinary people, wouldn't I be able to pass through the barrier without any issues?
If I could trigger a conditioned response from the barrier in the process, like Pavlov's dog, it would make for a highly successful diversionary tactic. I would have to take back my earlier thought about not finding a meaningful use for this. Just off the top of my head, I could already think of this much.
At the same time, a somewhat absurd chuckle escaped my lips. A relic plundered by the British a century ago during their invasion of Tibet to block Russia's southward advance had, through a twist of fate, ended up in my hands to become a dagger aimed at Russia's successor. It truly felt like a bizarre, ironic joke of history.