Dark Moon
What had been a living body mere moments ago was now nothing but scraps of meat, spattered across the room. I turned to the trembling prostitutes and the bodyguard.
"A-Aaaagh! My arm—!"
The bodyguard screamed. Caught in the blast, his right arm had been blown clean off, and bone shards were embedded in his lower body. The prostitutes behind me had come through unharmed.
"Don't move. Stay right where you are."
I layered barrier magic over us. There was no telling whether another attack was coming. I swept the surroundings slowly. No sign of an enemy. I tapped the side of my mask and switched on the radio.
"This is No. 211. We've got a problem."
No. 212 answered at once.
"I heard an explosion. That it? Did they throw a bomb or something?"
"A bomb, yeah. A Living Bomb."
"Living Bomb…? You mean a bio-bomb?"
"No. Black magic."
I heard her swallow hard. No. 212 had clearly realized this mission was not going to be simple.
"A black mage showed up?"
That was No. 31.
"No black mage in sight. Here's the situation…"
I laid it out. Baron Ptelgar had summoned prostitutes. While inspecting the ones who arrived, I had found a Living Bomb spell with its pattern disguised as a tattoo.
"My guess is someone rigged it so the Living Bomb would trigger the moment it was discovered."
"What about the others?"
I glanced back. The prostitutes were clinging to one another, their minds gone blank. One of them had even wet herself.
"I'll check them. No. 212, report to the Baron. No. 31, stay ready for any follow-up attack."
The mansion doors burst open and bodyguards came running. I pointed them toward the wounded man with my chin, then approached the prostitutes.
"We're starting the body search again. Strip. You already have some idea of the situation. Cooperate."
"O-Okay. We'll cooperate—just please don't kill us."
"Do as you're told."
They began undressing again. I turned my head. A stare had been boring into me for a while now. A bodyguard with his blond hair slicked straight back was watching me.
"What."
"Lakemak, chief of security. Explain exactly what just happened."
His blue eyes were serious. Honestly, it was a nuisance—but as chief of security, he deserved a measure of courtesy. That would make the escort duty go smoother.
"One of the prostitutes exploded."
"…Excuse me?"
"Black magic. A 3-Class black magic spell called Living Bomb. It turns a living creature into a bomb. That woman was hit with it."
"…Was the woman who exploded working with the black mage?"
"Can't say yet. Looking at her when she went off… she didn't even seem to know the spell was on her. No one in their right mind would put a Living Bomb on themselves. She was probably just a victim."
"That doesn't change the fact that Baron Ptelgar was the target. I'll investigate the dead woman's identity."
"You're competent. She said a friend recommended a tattooist. That tattooist is almost certainly the black mage."
"I'll have every tattooist in the area checked. What about the other women?"
Instead of answering, I walked over to the naked women and ran my hands over their bodies, checking them thoroughly.
"No traces of black magic. No hidden weapons. They can go."
"…That's a relief. Even so, after an incident like this, we can't simply release them. And the Baron is waiting for them."
"He's still going to do that in this situation? In a way, that's impressive."
"Only a guess on my part. No orders from the Baron yet."
Baron Ptelgar ordered the prostitutes interrogated. Once that was finished, he added, they were to be sent up to his room.
While the bodyguards questioned the women, I had to face Baron Ptelgar again.
"So you found the Living Bomb. As good as they said. You saved my life."
His tone said one thing; the complete absence of gratitude on his face said another.
"…I only did my job."
"The problem is how many people can't even manage that."
He flicked his fingers. The prostitute at his side immediately produced a cigarette and slipped it between his lips. She pinched the tip between her fingers. Smoke rose, and the cigarette lit. Even that small effort left her looking drained.
An esper? Too weak for me to notice.
Calling it a superpower was almost embarrassing. It looked weaker than a lighter.
Baron Ptelgar took a few drags, then spoke.
"Goddamn it. A black mage… Claxon. That bastard's gone all in."
His face twisted with fury. I didn't bother pointing out that we still didn't know whether the black mage had deliberately sent the Living Bomb or whether it had simply wandered into the mansion by chance. There was no point. The incident had already happened. From Baron Ptelgar's perspective, he had already been attacked.
"Claxon! Drag that bastard in here and kill him!"
"Claxon is the workers' representative. If he dies before the final negotiations, the first person under suspicion will be you, my lord. There will be an investigation."
"That son of a bitch hired a black mage to kill me!"
"Claxon has nothing left to lose. Cornered rats thrash. It happens all the time."
Baron Ptelgar seethed for a long while. When he finally recovered his composure, he fixed me with cold eyes.
"Find the black mage."
"…My assignment is to guard you, my lord."
"You've got two other escorts besides yourself. You go out there, find the black mage, and kill him. Bring me that bastard's head!"
"Changing the mission is outside my authority."
"You thick-skulled military dog! I'm your employer! Don't you even know that?"
"Whatever you say, I don't have the authority."
"Is that so? Then I'll talk to someone who does."
He shot me a glare and slammed one hand on the table. A monitor rose from the surface, and a keyboard emerged. His fat fingers hammered the keys.
Instructor Vinous's expressionless face appeared on the screen.
"Baron Ptelgar. What seems to be the matter?"
"Master Sergeant Vinous. Your damned subordinate won't listen to me."
Instructor Vinous glanced at me standing with my hands behind my back, then addressed the Baron.
"…Could you elaborate?"
"There's a black mage out there who wants me dead. Your man is too scared of him to move."
Baron Ptelgar explained the situation in a voice thick with irritation.
"Baron Ptelgar. Splitting our forces will weaken the escort detail."
"I have bodyguards of my own. Are you dismissing them?"
"…If that is your will, my lord, I will respect it. No. 212. Find the black mage and kill him."
"Understood."
I answered. Instructor Vinous spoke with the Baron a little longer, then cut the connection.
"Heh. Heh-heh. You hear that, soldier boy? Your superior just ordered you to bring in the black mage."
"…Yes. I'll pursue the black mage."
Baron Ptelgar's intent was obvious. Three days from now, after we left, the black mage might still come for him. So he wanted the mage found and killed before we departed. This way he could eliminate a source of anxiety while saving both money and time.
"Bring me the black mage's head before the negotiation day. Honestly, making such a fuss over something that was always going to end like this. Well? If you understand, get out!"
I left the room and clenched my fist.
Irritation surged. If I wanted to, I could kill Baron Ptelgar in ten seconds—but the power and money he held kept me in check.
Power and money… Things I don't have. Things I'll never get if I stay buried in the military.
No—soldiers could obtain power and money. Just not me. Branded a slave, I was nothing more than a disposable tool.
And someday, while carrying out some order from above, I'll die like a bug. I will get out of this goddamn place.
Before starting the mission, I met with No. 212 and No. 31 and explained the situation.
"Nothing we can do… It's Instructor Vinous's order."
No. 212 sighed and shook her head.
"I can ask Instructor Vinous to let me go in your place."
I politely declined No. 31's offer. If she stepped in, things would only get more troublesome.
"Once three days are up, I'm dropping the mission and heading straight back. I don't care if my evaluation takes a hit. I have zero interest in grinding myself down over one black mage."
I stated my position. No. 212 and No. 31 nodded, respecting it.
Before leaving, I checked my gear. A small glass vial came out of my bag. No. 212's eyes lit up; she stepped in close and snatched it.
"This is a snack, right?"
"…Yeah. Your favorite."
"You packed it for me? I'm happy."
"You ask for it every day."
Inside the vial was a sticky white fluid. My semen. My heart pounded. This wasn't the first time I'd handed her my semen—but every time I did, my heart raced.
No. 212 opened the lid.
The smell of yesterday's load flooded the space—so thick it was almost startling.
"Mmmh. Smells delicious…"
She dipped a finger into the semen and brought it to her mouth, tasting the thick fluid with a smile.
"It's good!"
"…What is that? It does smell good."
No. 31 showed interest. Apparently the scent of semen registered as appetizing to her as well.
"It's No. 211's special snack. How do I put it… Too sticky to call a drink, not quite jelly either—but it's insanely good! Want to try?"
No. 31 nodded and reached out. Like No. 212, she coated a finger and brought it to her lips.
"…It's good. No. 212. I don't think it's quite worth all the fuss you make, though."
"Huh, really? Isn't this amazing? This is practically revolutionary!"
"Not that much."
No. 31 cut her off flatly and stepped back, uninterested.
"But it's so good…"
No. 212 tilted her head at No. 31's reaction, then tucked the vial into her clothes.
"I'll save the rest."
She smiled sweetly.