8-Fools' Revolution
8-Fools' Revolution
One day before the first operation start
======
It was afternoon, but the inside of the warehouse was strangely quiet.
...Though to be precise, quiet wasn't strange in and of itself.
This space was never particularly talkative. Riche wrote out formulas, Cael tinkered with devices, Ori slept, Harlan read a book, and Ser rolled a screw around. That was the usual afternoon.
Today was different.
At first it was hard to tell what had changed. I only realized it after slowly looking around.
Riche held a pen but wasn't writing, and Cael held a device in his hand but wasn't tinkering.
Ori lay with her head down, but today it was especially obvious she was pretending to sleep.
Harlan had a book open, yet the pages weren't turning, and Ser had a screw in his hand but wasn't rolling it.
Each of them was holding their own thing, but none of them were doing anything.
Because tomorrow was the day—the first operation in Beren City.
=====
Riche spoke first.
"The formulas are all set."
She said it without anyone asking. Staring at the table, as if she wanted no answer from anyone.
"I rechecked the mana density coefficient too. Recalculated using the barrier values just before the shift. Everything falls within the margin of error."
"I know," Cael said.
"Harlan and I also finalized the magic circle design yesterday."
"I know."
"So there's no problem tomorrow."
"I know."
Riche set her pen down on the table. Then she picked it up and put it down again.
"...I know. Why do I keep saying it."
Cael replied.
"Can't you just listen?"
"Nothing changes just because you listen."
"Even if nothing changes, listening makes it a little better."
Riche closed her mouth. She seemed like she wanted to argue but let it go. Because it wasn't a statement you could argue against.
Cael had always been like that. Someone who spoke with senses, not logic.
At first that frustrated her, but now she knew that sometimes that turned out to be more right.
Ori raised her hand. Still face-down.
"I listened too."
"You were sleeping."
"I wasn't sleeping."
"Ori."
"Yeah."
"Are you nervous?"
A brief silence followed. Ori, cheek pressed to the table, opened her eyes halfway.
"...I don't know. Because I don't really know what nervousness is."
Riche put her pen down. "Who doesn't know what nervousness is."
"I've been doing this since I was little. I can't tell if I'm just used to it or if I'm originally not the type to get nervous." Ori lowered her hand. "But it's true that sleep isn't coming easily today."
"Not being able to sleep—that's nervousness."
"Really?"
"Really."
"...Then I guess I'm nervous." Ori murmured as she closed her eyes. "That's the first I've known."
Cael let out a soft laugh. I didn't know how long it had been since I'd heard Cael laugh in this space. Riche looked at Cael, seemed about to say something, then let it go.
She seemed to know that when Cael laughed, something was aligning. Her expression showed she disliked it but acknowledged it.
Harlan closed his book. Setting it on his lap, he said, "I'm not nervous."
Those were somewhat unexpected words, if you could call them that.
"Really?"
"I've had plenty of things to be nervous about over 70 years. Now I know what nervousness is, but I choose not to be." Harlan held out his hand. His hand was trembling. "This isn't because of nerves. It's always like this."
"...Harlan eoreusin really has the most guts."
"It's not guts. It's knowing that worrying won't stop tomorrow from coming." Harlan smiled slowly. "But honestly speaking. Last night I read the same page of the book ten times."
"...Isn't that being nervous?"
"That's being unable to concentrate."
"Isn't that the same thing."
"It's different."
Riche muttered, "You say it's different, but your hand is shaking that much."
"It's always like this."
"You already said that."
"It's always like this."
Harlan shut down the conversation firmly. Riche opened her mouth and closed it. Winning against this old man had been impossible from the start, and she'd learned that over two months, yet sometimes she still found herself challenging him. That was Riche.
Ser spoke. "I'm nervous."
Everyone looked at Ser. It was rare for this person to state their own feelings.
"How much."
"The screw won't roll properly."
Riche processed that for a moment. "...The screw rolling is your gauge for nervousness?"
"Yeah."
"Then right now you must be really nervous."
"Yeah."
"You barely rolled the screw all day today."
"Yeah."
Always crisp, short answers.
Cael laughed again. This time a little louder. Ori buried her forehead into the table and murmured, "Judging it by a screw, really."
"Is it funny?"
Ser looked at Cael. Expressionless.
"No, because it's cute," Cael raised his hands. "No, more than cute. It's honest. Just."
"It's a fact that the screw isn't rolling."
"I know. I actually disassembled my device three times and reassembled it. For no reason."
"..."
"If taking it apart three times for no reason isn't nervousness, then what is," Riche interjected.
"Keeping my hands busy helps a little."
"That's exactly being nervous."
"No, it's a habit."
"Cael."
"Yeah."
"That's nervousness."
Cael shut his mouth. After a moment, he said, "...Fine, I was nervous." His voice sounded like he was losing, yet not. Riche gave a small snort.
Whether Cael heard it or not, he picked up his device again. He almost started disassembling but stopped and just held it in his hand.
It was a short conversation, but the atmosphere shifted slightly. Not lighter, but less heavy. Just confirming that everyone was nervous. Just knowing you weren't the only one feeling this.
=====÷==
Leard wasn't there.
He'd been gone since morning. Not at the map, not at the table, not in the empty lot behind the warehouse.
"Where did Leard go?"
Without opening her eyes, Ori said, "Upstairs."
There was an upper floor in the warehouse. A storage space for goods. A place we rarely used.
"What for."
"Don't know. He went up there in the morning."
Riche interjected. "I went up and saw him sitting by the window."
"By the window?"
"Yeah. I tried talking to him but he didn't answer." Riche fidgeted with her pen. "I called his name twice, but he seemed not to hear. That was the first time Leard failed to hear what I said."
Something caught on the tail end of that statement. Riche had said That was the first time, so casually, but all the time we had spent together was contained within those words.
...So even that monster has his worries after all.
I climbed the staircase.
The stairs were narrow and creaky, and the upper floor was dark. There were stacks of cargo boxes, dust, and a single window...
Setting all that aside,
Leard was in front of the window.
He sat on the floor, his back against the wall. Knees drawn up, arms resting on his knees.
It was a spot where the window was so small you couldn't see much outside, yet he was looking at that tiny window.
"Leard."
No response.
"Leard."
This time his head turned slightly. His eyes looked this way. Distant eyes.
Eyes that were looking this way but not really looking this way. I'd never seen that expression in his eyes before.
"What."
His voice sounded the same as usual, but something about it was off. The kind you can't quite pinpoint.
"Have you been here since morning?"
"Yeah."
"Why."
No answer. His gaze turned back toward the window.
I sat down next to him. On the floor beside Leard. Leard glanced at me, then withdrew his gaze. He didn't say anything, but he didn't chase me away either.
I could see outside the window. It faced the city. I could see rooftops. Ordinary rooftops.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
"Are you nervous?"
After asking, I briefly wondered if that was the right question for this person.
"...No."
The answer came, but it took a little time. It didn't come out right away.
"You said no."
"Yeah."
"Then what are you doing here."
Leard looked out the window. After a moment, he spoke.
"I'm thinking."
"About what."
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's operation is all set."
"Not the operation."
"Then?"
No answer. Leard lowered his arms from his knees. His hands rested on the floor.
They seemed like hands that had been set down without any intention. It was the first time I'd seen this person place his hands like that. He always had his arms crossed, or was pointing at a map, or doing something.
"If it goes well."
Leard spoke. Very softly.
"If it goes well, there's a next step. If that next step also goes well, there's another. When those pile up, people gather, and when people gather, the name spreads, and when the name spreads."
He stopped.
"When I think about what comes after."
He stopped again.
Leard wasn't nervous. He wasn't thinking about what if it goes wrong. He was thinking about what if it goes right. If it goes well, then the next step appears, and the next, and those pile up until you reach that position.
That was what this person feared. My only goal was revenge against the Church.
He was merely afraid of the fire he himself would ignite.
'...He seems so incredibly cautious and mature.'
But in the end, Leard is still young too.
It's only natural to be scared.
"Are you afraid?"
Leard looked at me. With eyes I'd never seen before. Eyes free of calculation.
"I don't know."
Those two words sounded strangely honest.
"From the moment I started this, I didn't think about the end. Because I thought I shouldn't think about what the end is. Just destroying the Church. I only thought about that."
"Wasn't that enough?"
"I thought it was enough."
"What about now?"
"Now I don't know."
The sound of wind came from outside the window. The sound of it passing over the rooftops. Because the warehouse was quiet, you could hear it clearly.
"Leard."
"Yeah."
"You said it was from a previous life. You said you'd tell me once we're close enough that I can ask directly."
"Yeah."
"What about now?"
A brief silence flowed. Leard looked at me. Not with the eyes he uses when calculating. Just eyes that were looking.
"Not yet."
"Not yet."
"Not yet." Leard repeated. "But."
He continued.
"I know we're getting closer."
Those words hung in the air for a moment. It was strange for this person to say something like that. That we're getting closer. That he said it out loud.
"...Me too."
The words came out. I didn't say them after thinking. They just came out.
Leard looked at me.
"I'm not there yet either. But it feels like we're getting closer."
Leard said nothing. He just looked, but the gaze wasn't uncomfortable. In the beginning, this man's eyes had been uncomfortable.
His calculating eyes had been uncomfortable. Right now, these eyes weren't.
"..."
"..."
A brief silence flowed.
Then.
Leard's hand moved.
Slowly. As if it was nothing. Toward my neck.
The slave collar. That damned thing that had been around my neck for two months.
Cheolkeok cheolkeok—
Leard busily fiddling with something.
He seemed to be looking for the lock. His fingers went toward the back.
Ttak.
A sound rang out,
and the collar came off.
For a moment, I couldn't say anything.
What had hung around my neck for two months was now in his hand. My neck felt lighter, and that lightness was strangely unfamiliar.
The spot where the metal had been constantly touching my skin now felt vivid with its absence. It was strange how that empty spot felt more vivid, as if telling me just how long those two months had been.
Leard looked at me, the collar held in his hand.
"I said I'd take it off once we got a bit closer."
He'd said that in the alley. On the first day. After the electric shock came.
"...Now?"
"Yeah."
"Right before tomorrow's operation?"
"That doesn't matter."
Leard set the collar down on the floor. Then he looked out the window again. As if nothing had happened.
He acted as if nothing had happened, but it was certainly not nothing.
I knew very well what this gesture meant.
'...What if I betray you and run away tomorrow?'
I barely managed to hold back those words that nearly came out.
"Why now?"
Leard paused for a moment.
"Because it's tomorrow."
A brief statement. It seemed lacking in explanation, yet strangely seemed sufficient.
We've always been like this, and that's probably how we'll communicate going forward.
It was a little frustrating, but satisfying.
I touched my neck. The sensation of fingers making contact. There was nothing on my neck.
"Thank you."
Before I knew it, the words had left my mouth.
Leard looked at me. Briefly. Then turned his gaze back to the window.
"Do well tomorrow."
"Is that your answer to my thank you?"
"Yeah."
Wind blew again from outside the window.
"You said you don't know about being scared."
"Yeah."
"But I do know one thing."
"What."
"If these people get hurt."
It didn't seem like he was going to finish the sentence.
"Riche, Cael, Ori, Harlan, Ser."
He said each name one by one. In a low voice. I'd never heard him say these names like this before. He always called them briefly, only for business. Right now, they were just names.
"That's what I hate most."
It was hate most. Not fear.
It was probably still a long way off before the word scared would come out of this man. So that must be why these words came out. Hate most—the most honest words a person like Leard could say.
"I'll make sure they don't get hurt."
The words came out.
Leard looked at me.
"Because I know things. What to be careful of. Where and what variables will appear."
"You mean you saw it all."
"Yeah."
"How much."
"I'll tell you later."
Honestly, I had no reason not to tell him anymore either.
But the time wasn't right yet.
"Got it."
That meant he wouldn't ask further. That he would trust what I said right now.
I touched my neck again.
There was nothing.
It felt like we'd grown a step closer.
"...Yeah."
What an odd feeling.
Yeah.
It was tomorrow.
=====
When I came back downstairs, everyone looked this way.
No, precisely, at my neck.
There was a silence of about 0.5 seconds.
Riche spoke first. "It's off."
"Yeah."
"When."
"Just now."
"Did Leard take it off?"
"Yeah."
Another 0.5 seconds of silence.
Then Ori, still with her cheek on the table, raised her hand. "The bet results are out."
Riche picked up her pen. "I was right."
"Wait a moment." Ori opened her eyes. "It's not exactly two months, though."
"It's approximate."
"Approximate can't win a bet."
"That was the rule we set."
"We never set that. I said within one month and you said two months, but in reality it's been two months and a few days. So aren't we both wrong?"
"Two months is closer."
"How much closer."
"In numerical terms, I win."
"Now you're dragging numbers into this?"
"Calculations are inherently numerical."
"This is a bet. Not a calculation problem."
Beside them, Cael chuckled as he set down his device.
"Congratulations, Victor."
"On the collar coming off." Cael said. "Leard doesn't trust people easily."
From behind, Riche interjected. "Wasn't that meant for me just a moment ago, Cael?"
"I'm talking to Victor."
"It's audible to me too."
"You can listen."
"But we're in the middle of a bet."
"The bet is with Ori."
"Cael."
"Yeah."
"Just give me one word saying I was right."
"Riche."
"Yeah."
"Both Ori and Riche are wrong."
"What?"
"It's not one month, not two months, it's two months and a few days."
Riche opened her mouth and shut it. Ori smacked her forehead into the table. "Cael, you're the worst."
"You were on my side until just now."
"That was because Riche was even worse."
Harlan opened his book and said, "That's good."
"Hm?"
"About the collar," Harlan glanced over slowly. "A person with a name shouldn't wear something around their neck."
A person with a name. Those words caught for a moment and then passed.
Harlan sometimes said things like that. Words he didn't say loudly, just set down and let pass by. But he must know those were the ones that lingered longer.
Ser picked up the screw in his hand. For the first time today.
Degul degul—
The sound of it rolling was heard.
"Did your nervousness ease?"
"A bit."
The fact that the screw was rolling was the best news that could come from this person.
Leard came back downstairs. He walked toward the table and spread out the map. It was the map of Beren City.
"Let's do a final review of tomorrow's operation."
The same voice as always. Low and dry.
The eyes I had seen upstairs were already gone, and he was once again the Leard we knew.
My neck felt light. The spot where the thing had been for two months was still vividly felt.
=======
The following day, dawn.
From early morning, people began gathering at the execution ground in Beren City. Charges of blasphemy. It was a day when three executions were scheduled.
Spectators, the Holy Knights, and Church priests filled the place.
And we were there.
Riche was on the roof of the building opposite the execution ground. Holding the newly soldered synchronization device, with eyes that already contained every formula in her head.
Cael was among the crowd. Carrying something heavy inside his coat, standing there with gentle eyes as though he were nobody.
Ori was somewhere unseen. It was the time when all the living ones among her seventeen routes would be opening their ears at once.
"..."
Still a sleepy expression.
But now I could trust her.
Harlan was inside an alley. An old book cradled in his arms, standing with a small glass vial in his trembling hand.
Ser was at the spot closest to the execution platform. Standing as if he was doing nothing. Rolling a screw in his hand like always.
Leard stood beside me. In the crowd. A spot with a view of the execution platform. The sound of a priest reading the charges could be heard.
Blasphemy. The crime of denying the Church's authority. The voice filled the square.
Leard looked ahead and spoke quietly.
"Once it starts, there's no turning back."
"I know."
"Any regrets?"
I looked at the three people on the execution platform. Their hands were bound, their eyes were covered, and their knees were trembling.
People who, until just a few days ago, had been on the other side.
"None."
Leard looked at me. It was his usual rigid eyes, but within them remained a very small trace of what I had seen earlier in front of the window.
And then Leard raised his hand.
That was the signal.
"!..."
"Alright."
Peong—!!!
"Let's go!"
In an instant, light burst from Riche's synchronization device. At the same time, Cael pulled something from inside his coat. Harlan uncorked the glass vial. And Ser moved toward the execution platform.
The crowd began to stir.
It was truly an instant.
Just before the Holy Knights could detect something was off.
At that moment, Cael turned toward the execution platform.
With a voice amplification device fixed in place,
he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Go on, pray to your god!! Let's see whose hand they take!"
Along with that yell,
Kwaang—!!!!
An explosion struck the execution platform's pillar.
"Aaaaagh!!"
Smoke rose and people screamed,
and the Holy Knights drew their swords.
It was a smoke bomb, so there wouldn't be any casualties, but
Leard stepped forward.
The crowd had naturally parted to avoid the blast, but walking through the parted crowd,
he truly looked like some kind of prophet.
"Ah, ah."
Leard's voice echoed through the smoke.
"Hey!!!"
The square fell silent. The screams, the clashing of swords, all stopped for a moment.
Leard looked at the execution platform. At the Holy Knights. At the priests. And at the crowd.
"The peace inside the cage is over."
He declared.
"The Revolution of Fools. It begins."
