13. Circus Charlie (9)
13. Circus Charlie (9)
During the month they'd spent living in the catacombs, Charlie's comrades had each scouted locations that suited them. Every one was ideal for ambushing intruders who strayed into the labyrinth—and at the same time, each was a place where they could put their own talents to effective use.
They had memorized the approaches thoroughly. If anything threw the operation off course, they would have to be ready to fight.
Scattering at the entrance to the caverns wasn't just a stalling tactic. Each of them was drawing an opponent toward a battlefield of their own choosing.
On ground like that, they believed they could hold their own.
The terrain gave them an edge, but they were confident in their skills, too.
Hadn't Charlie told them so? In their respective specialties, each of them surpassed the top-ranked students at Rekachev.
At first they'd thought he was just boosting their morale. But after arriving here and witnessing the Rekachev students' actual abilities, they realized Charlie had spoken the truth. When it came to their chosen disciplines, they—graduates of a poor rural school—really were better than students from a world-famous elite institution.
The spot Mickey led Karen to was the deepest part of the catacombs. Strangely, the floor there was thickly covered in sand.
Mickey stepped into it gingerly, putting distance between himself and the entrance with deliberate care. Moments later, Karen caught up and spotted him.
"Hey, brat! Finally tired yourself out?"
She hurled herself at him. The move was a clear mistake. The instant her foot touched the sand, her body sank straight down.
"Whoa—what is this?!"
When Mickey had stepped there, the sand had barely reached his ankles. Now it had risen to her thighs.
Watching her flounder, Mickey grinned.
"Heh-heh. Operation success."
"What did you—you—!"
Assuming she had simply stepped into a dirt pit, Karen tried to wrench herself free. But the more she struggled, the deeper the sand pulled her.
Mickey wagged a finger at her as the sand crept up to her waist.
"Ah-ah. Better not move. The more you thrash, the deeper you'll go."
The spot Mickey had chosen for his fight was a patch of quicksand, formed where sediment from the caverns met an underground watercourse. Those who'd grown up living alongside the Vegas desert knew its dangers all too well.
Granted, this quicksand wasn't as deep as the desert's. At worst, it would swallow someone to about chest height.
"Just stay still. You're not going to die. When things settle down, I'll pull you out—whoa, stop moving like that—what the—!"
Mickey's eyes flew wide at what Karen did next. When she began struggling again, he'd assumed she was wasting effort. Instead, the more she thrashed, the higher her body rose above the sand.
"How are you—this trap—?"
"Hmph. Not much to it. Same principle as swamp training."
Karen seized a rock ledge with both arms, wrenched herself free, and stood.
Mickey stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Swamp training... you're a Ground Acrobatics major too?"
"Obviously."
"But—even so, you got out that easily?"
Enduring, Letting Flow, and Load Distribution were the three core techniques of Ground Acrobatics. Escaping the quicksand required deploying all three simultaneously. When the body met the sand's "firmness," you used Enduring; when it met the sand's "flow," you used Letting Flow—only then could you move through quicksand in the direction you wanted. And since muscle strength alone wasn't enough to push the sand aside, you also had to secure buoyancy through Load Distribution.
Back home, only three people—himself included—could pull themselves out after sinking waist-deep into quicksand. The other two were, naturally, Ella and Charlie. And this woman had mastered Ground Acrobatics to that degree?
"Reminds me of the times Hobbs would fill a water tank with mud and chuck me in without warning."
Having freed herself from the sand, Karen shook the grit out of her shoes, turned back to Mickey, and grinned. She motioned at him with her fingers.
"Bring it, brat!"
"Tch. This isn't going to be easy."
Mickey glided across the sand and lunged for her.
Veronica was experiencing the same dismay of having her carefully laid trap dismantled too easily.
She stared at Maya, appalled, after the girl had intercepted every single bolt from the crossbow trap she'd rigged—shooting them down in midair.
"In this darkness, you hit all of them? Did you use some kind of detection spell?"
"No. I just calculated the trajectories the moment I saw them."
The flat response, as if dismissing her entirely, twisted Veronica's features into something ugly. Her clown makeup twisted along with them.
She pulled a cluster of daggers from inside her jacket—small, performance-grade blades meant to be gripped between the fingers. But these were juggling daggers, not throwing weapons. Their blades were all curved more than 120 degrees.
Since straight trajectories clearly wouldn't land a hit, she'd drawn them. She slipped the daggers between her fingers and hurled all of them at Maya at once.
Eight curved blades traced parabolas through the darkness as they flew at her.
Meanwhile, Reina had arrived at a broad, domed space where water poured down from every direction. She climbed onto an iron chain stretched across the area and looked down. The floor was too dark to see, but the sound of falling water let her gauge the depth—at least several dozen meters.
"It's the city's underground reservoir. They use it to store rainwater."
Viola had climbed onto the chain opposite Reina. While luring her opponent here, she'd figured out who she was.
"You're the Golden Libra—Reina Magier, aren't you?"
"That's right. And you are? Why did you kidnap the Troupe Leader?"
"I'm not interested in him. He's just a hostage to pressure Ella."
"Ella... I see. What happened at the arena wasn't an accident."
"..."
Viola studied Reina closely. Back home, most of the boys had liked Ella, and most of the girls had liked Charlie. She'd been one of those who liked Charlie.
But she'd been among the least obvious about it. She had always watched Charlie from a step farther back than the others. And unlike the other girls who liked him, she had been warm and friendly toward Ella.
She'd considered it a strategy.
Whenever a chance arose, though, she'd tried to interfere between the two of them. When Charlie asked Ella to go out, she'd deliberately send Mickey along "to play together." If the two of them fell into a good mood, she'd prod August into picking a fight with Charlie. Actions like that.
When she felt it necessary, she didn't hesitate to observe Charlie's private life on the sly. Not long ago, she'd stolen a look at some of the letters he kept. Every one of them had been sent by Reina.
A chilly smile spread across her face as she fixed her gaze on Reina.
"To cross blades with the Golden Libra... as a tightrope acrobat, it's an honor."
"I don't exchange pleasantries with kidnappers."
Dozens of meters above the dark sewer floor, both figures kicked off into the void.
***
"Guh—cough, hack."
Wonderstein vomited a basinful of blood as he staggered to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. Not a single part of his body looked intact. He was, quite literally, in shreds.
He'd been putting on a show—getting battered by trap after trap, falling apart bit by bit. If he'd been an ordinary circus leader named Wonderstein, he could have simply pretended to collapse unconscious from the first blow. But his opponent knew him as the demon Wonderstein.
No matter how much the sanctuary's influence held him in check, a man of Wonderstein's caliber dropping from a hit or two would only raise suspicion that the whole thing was an act.
So he'd let the traps batter him, hit after hit, all while feigning that he could barely stand. He'd let tentacles, mouths, tongues, and spines flicker briefly from his wounds—just enough to show that he was struggling so badly he couldn't even keep the monsters inside him under control.
Limping, he made his way toward where Charlie and Ella were.
"Stop... please stop... I don't want this..."
Ella's face was a mess of tears. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails had drawn blood.
She wanted nothing more than to run to him and save him. But a few words from Charlie had pinned her where she stood.
"You know, too! That he's the one who destroyed the village and killed our friends!"
"Look at that monstrous appearance! It matches every survivor's account."
"You knew, didn't you? And even knowing that, you've been defending him?"
Charlie's words stabbed into her with dreadful precision.
She couldn't stand in his way when he spoke of revenge, naming each of their dead friends one by one.
With a sharp ping, another trap triggered.
This time, a volley of arrows shot from the wall. They hammered into Wonderstein from every angle.
He collapsed to the floor as if his legs had given out, coughing up what looked like pieces of his insides.
He pitched forward and didn't get back up.
"Troupe Leader!"
Ella cried out his name.
Sprawled on the floor, he barely lifted his head to look at her.
"I-I'm fine. Miss Ella... please, stay where you are..."
Even covered in blood, he didn't lose his smile. He was dying, and he was still worrying about her.
Wiping away her tears, Ella nodded.
Right. This was her Troupe Leader. He would have something up his sleeve. She'd believe in him. She'd believe in him.
Watching her, Charlie's brow furrowed.
She knew that man wasn't an ordinary human. She knew he was a monster. She knew he had killed the villagers and their friends. And yet she wouldn't abandon her faith in him.
No matter how he looked at it, her almost blind trust seemed like nothing less than a demon's work.
'I like him. Wonderstein. Sincerely.'
Charlie ground his teeth until he heard them creak.
So that's how he got his hands on her.
He reached inside his coat and drew out the last resort he had prepared.
"Let's end this now."
"Ah—no, don't!"
Ella screamed in horror at the sight of it.
What Charlie had pulled out was a gun. A musket about as long as a forearm, a generation behind the rifles soldiers used—but easy to acquire on the black market, which made it a common weapon for criminals.
He gripped one musket, then produced a second and held it out to Ella.
"Here, you take one too."
"What?"
Ella accepted it, eyes wide with shock.
"You and I, together—we're going to break your curse."
She couldn't believe what he was proposing.
Shoot him? Him?
Staring blankly at her, Charlie enunciated each word with force.
"This proves your innocence. Shoot him dead. Then you'll come back to your senses."
"N-no, Charlie. D-don't. Kill him...? No... There has to be a reason for all this. If you do this, there's no going back... Just wait. If you give me one day, I think I'll come to my senses. Okay?"
Charlie couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even now, after everything, she couldn't tear herself away from that man. And now she was saying one day would be enough. It looked exactly as if she were being controlled by him and was grasping at any excuse she could find to keep him alive.
"Fine. I'll do it alone."
"Charlie, please—don't do this, Charlie!"
Ella tried to stop him, but her body simply wouldn't move.
"Ngh—p-please! M-move! I said move!"
The truth was, Charlie had used his notebook to borrow a hypnotic-suggestion Inspira that placed restraints on her actions.
It hadn't been enough to free her from Wonderstein's magic, but it could keep her bound while he dealt with the man.
Charlie descended from the altar. The black-market musket wasn't particularly accurate. To land a clean hit, he'd need to get closer.
"Stop, stop! Don't, Charlie!"
Ella wailed, but Charlie shook his head.
She'd only act like this for a little while longer. Once the bastard was dead, everything would be set right.
"It'll be over quickly."
He stopped midway between Wonderstein and Ella and leveled the gun at him.
"Stop it! Let go, I said! You... you coward!"
Just as he was about to coldly pull the trigger, Charlie's rage flared at her words and he wheeled around to face her.
Everything I'm doing is for you!
"You don't know how insidious and despicable this bastard really is!"
"Shut up! Don't talk about the person I love like that!"
The person she loved.
Charlie clenched his jaw and turned back to glare at Wonderstein. He trained the barrel on him.
"That's enough, Ella. Once you come to your senses, you'll thank me for this!"
Charlie hooked his finger over the trigger. Ignoring Ella's screams from behind, he pulled it.
Bang.
A single gunshot echoed through the chamber.
The bullet tore through skin and flesh with terrible ease, shattering bone and organ.
His face contorted, Charlie slowly turned his head to look at Ella.
"Ella..."
"I told you... to stop..."
Ella sobbed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
A hollow laugh escaped Charlie.
"Ella... you..."
Charlie stared at her hand.
Following his gaze, Ella turned her head and realized smoke was rising from the gun she was holding.
She shrieked and hurled it to the floor.
"Wha—what—how did—?"
She couldn't make sense of what was happening.
Then she turned back toward Charlie—and her whole body went rigid.
Before her eyes, a scene she couldn't possibly comprehend was unfolding.
Why was a red stain spreading across her friend's chest?
Why was her friend looking at her with such a sad expression?
Belatedly, she stared in horror at the gun she'd thrown.
"I... I did it? Ah—no, I—I didn't..."
Blood burbled from Charlie's lips. His body collapsed backward.
"Ch-Charlie?"
In that instant, the hypnotic suggestion that had held her in place broke. She bolted upright and scrambled frantically down from the altar, her face a ghastly white.
"Charlie? A-answer me. Charlie?"
She gathered his trembling body in her arms where he lay on the floor. Blood pulsed from his chest in surges. The eyes that looked back at her held a storm of emotions—pain, affection, sorrow, all at once.
"E-Ella..."
"I—I never meant to... Ah, Charlie, please... just answer me... okay? Ch-Charlie? Charlie! Aaah!"
Clutching her friend's body, she screamed as if she'd lost her mind.
Then a dark shadow fell over her. Tears streaming down her face, Ella looked back.
Standing there was the last person she expected.
"What...?"
"You've done well, Miss Ella."
There he stood... perfectly fine... Wonderstein, without a scratch on him.
As if the spectacle of him dying moments ago had all been an act, he looked down at her and her friend, smiling.
"Y-you... how are you... no, this is..."
Him, smiling in a pool of blood, and her friend, dying.
Guilt and betrayal crashed over her at the same time.
And in that instant, her memories came flooding back.