What Kind of Festival Is This? (3)
The party was Lycaon, and Lycaon was the party.
If I knew nothing at all, that would be one thing. But there was no way a man this well-informed didn't have an invitation to a party he already knew about.
"That might be a bit difficult."
"Why is that?"
"How much do you know already, Noonim?"
I recalled what Jakina had passed along to me. 'A chance encounter — a meeting willed by fate, was it?' Something along those lines had been the catchphrase.
Masquerade. Every guest invited here received a mask, each one of a different design.
Entry to the party was only permitted while wearing the mask you'd been issued. If anyone showed up in a different shape of mask — or if two identical masks were ever spotted — the system would flush out the unwelcome guest on the spot.
Apparently even the Security Bureau had struggled to get their hands on an invitation, and their investigation had been grinding to a halt.
"Security, and anonymity."
Lycaon gave a slow nod and pulled a cord, and a black ledger hidden beneath the counter came gliding out.
"It might look anonymous at first glance, but it really isn't."
"Indeed."
"Word is the hosts do a fair bit of vetting their guests beforehand."
The ledger, drawn along its line as if drifting through the air, came to a stop in front of me. I reached out, and it dropped neatly into my grip.
Name, occupation, sex, age. The bars they frequented, and at what hours. Whether they carried debts, what assets they held.
"Necessity disguised as coincidence, in other words."
"Background checks, then?"
"To a degree. Mostly, though, the guests spill it themselves. Get enough liquor in a man and his tongue loosens up whether he means it to or not."
They induced the participants' voluntary cooperation. The determination behind it was plain — they would leave not a single thread for anyone to grab onto.
"Of course, plenty of folks truly believe it's nothing more than an anonymous social club. Those ones are usually—"
"At the top, I'd imagine."
If scandal ever broke, the upper crust would be forced to take the fall first. They'd built a forest to hide the trees.
"Exactly that. I'd love nothing more than to slot you in, Noonim, but without your status properly established, it'd be a hard sell."
"Is being the Security Bureau director's daughter not enough?"
How high did I have to be if this wasn't enough? What, would the director himself have to show up in person?
"More than enough."
"Then?"
"For you, Noonim? They'd wave you straight through. If anything, they'd come begging you to attend."
Lycaon gestured at the ledger. I flipped to the back pages, and there it was — the party's guest list.
"I thought this was anonymous."
Lycaon pressed his thumb and forefinger together into a circle and gave it a little shake.
"So you're selling the attendee list."
"Can you blame them? Everyone's dying to know who'll be there. Even in a fantasy of climbing the social ladder, someone with the power to lift you up has to actually be at the party first, no?"
The list held three tiers of guests. Those recorded by name only. Those with only a face, listed by number instead of name. And those whose name and face were both out in the open.
Then, scanning down the page, I spotted three familiar faces. A trio of thugs I knew all too well.
"Aren't these kids minors?"
"Honestly, Noonim, what are you, some sheltered noble lady? These days kids get felt up the moment they turn te— URK!"
I smacked the back of Lycaon's head.
"What about identity theft or impersonation?"
"Not easy."
"So it can't be done?"
"Oh, it's possible. After all, the place we're providing security for right now is— URK!"
I smacked the back of Lycaon's head again.
"A high-status identity would be preferable, then."
"Do you have a name in mind?"
"I do."
Among those currently in the Magic City, someone noble enough — special enough — to catch the host's eye. Conveniently, one name sprang to mind right away.
'I should get her permission first.'
"Never took you for someone interested in this sort of thing, Noonim."
"Interested in what?"
"I know a few secret little spots — very exclusive, very discreet. Care for me to share? You can moan as loud as you li— URK!"
This degenerate dog of a man. Lycaon's eyes had been drifting toward my chest, so I cracked him across the back of the skull once more.
"You're not going there for a good time, are you?"
"No."
"Then why—"
Why else would anyone go, playing dumb like that.
"It's a human trafficking den."
"...That it is."
Lycaon's grin split wide.
The name-only guests were those whose names alone proved their worth — collaborators, sponsors. The face-only guests were the 'merchandise' the hosts had prepared. And those with both name and face on display were ordinary attendees — or the 'buyers' hiding among them.
"They don't even bother hiding it, do they."
To be sure, there would be genuine chance encounters, exactly as their little catchphrase promised. But far more frequently than that, this place would host the buying and selling of someone's entire fate.
And the reason they could flaunt it this openly was simple enough.
'They must be confident nothing can touch them.'
They would have contingencies in place for everything — every loophole in the law quietly sealed shut in advance.
"This place is done for."
"Why's that?"
"They've caught your eye, Noonim. That's the end of it. We're pulling the kids out, so do me a favor and hold off on blowing the whole place up the second we walk in— AAAAK!"
Not that there was no way to catch them, of course. Organizing the plan taking shape in my head, I gave Lycaon's flank a vicious twist.
Charlotte and Eric had been placed in the same group for their practical courses — the ones where students were paired off one from each department.
That weekend, to buy the supplies they'd need for class, the pairs split up two by two once again.
Which was how Charlotte came to be walking through the shopping district with Eric, a boy she wasn't particularly close with. She'd planned to grab what they needed and head straight back — until a familiar figure caught her eye.
A black longcoat, buttoned all the way to the throat.
"Oh? It's Alpinia!"
Spotting her, Charlotte crept up quietly from behind.
Wham.
"Wahk!"
"Let go."
She'd thrown her arms around Alpinia from behind hoping to startle her, but Alpinia didn't so much as flinch. She just gave the same languid, world-weary response as always.
"Hiiik—"
Eric, meanwhile, had spotted Alpinia too, and let out a distinctly strange noise. Charlotte turned to check his expression and felt her brow crease.
'Not fear, exactly. More like... agitation? Anxiety? Dread?'
It was the reaction of someone who had, somehow, 'made a mistake.'
"Did you do something to her?"
Charlotte fixed him with a knife-sharp glare.
"...Nothing! Nothing happened...!"
'There's definitely something.'
Just as Charlotte moved to press him further, Alpinia drifted over with a soft smile and rested a hand on her head.
"Nothing happened."
"Really? ...Ehehe."
'Well, if Alpinia says so, it must be true.'
Charlotte settled the matter just like that, latched onto Alpinia's side, and naturally linked arms with her.
"What brings you here?"
"I was going to buy some clothes."
Clothes! This, from the girl who had worn nothing but a grim, rain-cloud-colored longcoat or her maid's uniform since the day she arrived.
If Alpinia picked out clothes on her own, she'd no doubt come home with an armful of the same funereal palette. And Charlotte had not the slightest intention of letting that happen.
"Oh! Then let me pick some out for you!"
"I decline."
"How about that shop over there?"
Normally this was the point where Alpinia would smack her forehead or pinch her cheek, but Charlotte had steeled herself — just for today, she would not fold. Not for anything.
Yet to her surprise, Alpinia let herself be dragged along without protest, and Charlotte cocked her head, momentarily thrown.
"Um, by the way — could I borrow your name sometime soon?"
"My name?"
"There's somewhere I need to go, and I need an alias."
"Hmm... sure, I suppose."
'Honestly, maybe Alpinia secretly likes having me dress her up too?'
'So even she's a girl at heart, huh.' Charmed by that thought, Charlotte let the request to borrow her name slide past without a second thought.
At the shop, Charlotte held up one garment after another against Alpinia.
"Alpinia, what about this one?"
"Not for me."
"Excuse me, could she try this on?"
"Ah— well, of course."
For all her grumbling, Alpinia dutifully tried on everything Charlotte suggested.
At length, she emerged from the fitting room, clothes changed, hesitating at the door.
White. An off-the-shoulder dress, short and simple.
"Wow! It's beautiful!"
"...Is it?"
"Wow..."
It was the kind of outfit Alpinia would never have worn of her own accord.
A coldness she wasn't used to showing. Alpinia lifted a hand to cover her chest. Charlotte and Eric both took it for an unconscious, involuntary gesture.
'This is... actually...'
The hidden lines that had always been sealed away beneath the shapeless longcoat and the maid's lace now stood revealed.
"Wow, wow..."
Eric, standing beside Charlotte, hung his jaw open and gaped, babbling nothing but idiotic exclamations.
"Wow— OWK!"
Charlotte kicked him square in the shin.
Eric had come secretly to the Magitech Engineering lab.
Charlotte was, incredibly, the second-ranked freshman in the Department of Practical Magic. His connection to her had blunted the seniors' threats somewhat — but it was far from a complete escape.
Eric agonized.
That day, in the cathedral's hidden chamber, he had seen those 'things' alongside Instructor Siwoo. While the instructor stood muttering to himself in shock, Eric had quietly pocketed one of the items there.
'Would handing this over even get them off my back?'
'It's just one. What if they demand I bring more?'
'Could I sneak it back in afterward?'
'But still... if I sold everything in that room... maybe I could actually get the money I need.'
Eric was still turning the syringe over in his hand, drowning in doubt, when it happened.
"Eeeeriic—!"
"GWAAAH!"
Thomas, a senior who had crept up behind him, snatched the 'item' clean out of Eric's hand.
"What's this, then?"
Eric's mind went into overdrive.
"Th-the deal went through! I brought it back safe!"
Thomas examined the thing closely. Then a grin split his face from ear to ear.
"That's our Eric! Knew I could count on you!"
"Y-yeah... haha...!"
"Sorry about all that, Eric. As if you'd ever betray us, right?"
"R-right, I mean, of course not..."
Thomas slung an arm around Eric's shoulders.
"This isn't the end of it, though, is it?"
"That's not... the end, no! They agreed to send more!"
The moment Thomas's face stiffened, Eric scrambled to correct himself.
'I'm dead.'
"There we go. Let's keep up the good work, yeah?"
Thomas ruffled Eric's hair into a mess, and Eric laughed — hollow, and thin.