Chapter 252: The Country of Steel and the Faceless Men - 1
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 252: The Country of Steel and the Faceless Men - 1
Fortunately, this wasn't one of those comical stories where the collaborator we were supposed to meet had actually been captured and was now being exploited. The princess gestured wildly, insisting the collaborator was genuinely an infiltrator on a mission from the Resistance, that his thirst for revenge against the Military State was absolute, and swore she had even seen his face in person.
I was still skeptical, but our destination was set regardless.
The alchemic steel refinery. A place where the screams of steel and men could be heard in unison.
We arrived.
Clang—. Clang—.
A dry, heated sound echoed out. It was the sound of molten alchemic steel being refined into ingots.
The Military State has its signallers, so news of our attack would have spread throughout the nation. Other places had pulled back their troops or locked their gates in a state of emergency, but this place was like an isolated island. Not because it was quiet, but because it seemed completely disconnected from and indifferent to the events outside.
Even though an unregistered automaton carriage had arrived at the factory entrance, not a single guard, not even a laborer, showed their face. It was almost disappointing. Only the screams of steel echoing from all directions asserted what this place was.
“…Tch. This place is always so dreary. We would've been better off just passing by.”
The Regressor muttered, looking disgusted, then spotted a figure pacing back and forth in front of the gate. The clearly suspicious figure loitered by the gate for a moment before spotting us and striding over.
The Regressor reflexively raised her sword, but lowered it again upon seeing that the approaching figure showed no hint of hostility or caution.
“Someone's coming. Doesn't look like an enemy. Is that the Resistance collaborator?”
Shiati answered for her.
A rare, pleased expression appeared on Shiati's face. It seemed he was one of the few people she still cared about, beyond her obsession with destroying the Military State. Despite her injuries, she showed her delight and approached the man.
Three steps before they met, just in case, and to remember that day long ago, Shiati confirmed the password they had arranged beforehand.
“Where are we?”
The man stopped as well and responded in kind.
“Still beneath the riverbed.”
“You're safe, Kerapald.”
“You too, Shiati.”
Certain of each other's identity, the two briefly clasped shoulders in greeting. It was brief, but in that touch, I could feel the affection shared only by those who have faced death together.
At least, on Shiati's part, that feeling was unmistakable.
After the short greeting, the man called Kerapald looked over the faces of those who had followed Shiati.
“I see a lot of faces that aren't... from the Resistance. Are they our collaborators?”
“No. We're the collaborators.”
“What? What in the world is going on...? Wait. Them?”
The man did a double-take when he saw my face and Historia's.
He was a man with a textbook clean-cut appearance. To put it nicely, he was handsome; to put it bluntly, he was generic. He was a man with a faint impression, the kind of face you'd forget by morning, now painting an expression onto his blank features.
The man, having finished his greeting with Shiati as if they'd known each other forever, glanced our way and approached.
“Historia? Huey? Is that really you? How did you two get all the way out here...!”
The surprises kept coming.
In contrast to his apparent delight at the unexpected reunion, Historia looked displeased.
I barely managed to save them from the bottom of that river, and now they've snuck into a deathtrap like this. Is everyone just itching to die? Why do they keep...
For Historia, those she couldn't save were regrets, and those she did were her hard-won achievements. So, she couldn't help but be displeased to see one of her achievements running wild, about to turn into another regret.
Her lips twisting into a frown, Historia averted her gaze and walked past him. The man awkwardly retracted his outstretched hand and glared at Historia's back.
“She really hasn't changed a bit. Historia still pretends we don't exist, like she can't even see us. So high and mighty.”
...He grumbled, as if he knew Historia well. I spoke up in her defense, since she had walked off without a word.
“She's not pretending not to see you, she's letting you off the hook. From Ria's perspective, the Resistance are people she's supposed to capture.”
“Even so! What's with that ambiguous attitude? She needs to make it clear whether she's on the Military State's side or ours!”
The man fumed.
A truly fitting attitude for 'Kerapald'. The narrow-mindedness of dividing people with a childish dichotomy. The pathetic neediness of expecting more than the goodwill he's already been shown.
After displaying the attitude of a petty citizen full of malice, he turned to me with a friendly smile.
“Anyway, Huey, it's been a long time. I feel a lot more confident with you here.”
And he greeted me with a friendly smile, as if he knew me. He even kindly introduced himself, just in case I didn't recognize him.
“Ah, you remember me, right? It's me. Kerapald!”
‘I am Kerapald. The last survivor of Hamelin. A member of the Resistance, and the guide who will lead them.’
Of course, I remember Kerapald.
He was one of the few children who survived Hamelin. An aspiring Mage Officer, he had both ambition and talent, but unfortunately, he had a monster named Lankart in his class.
A light that's too bright can blind you. He might have become an officer if he'd sought another path, but with his narrow vision, he failed, unable to escape Lankart's massive shadow.
Yes. I knew about him.
However.
“You disappeared without a word that day. Chento was disappointed and Shiati was furious. But I knew. I knew you could never side with the Military State. I was sure the day would come when you'd join us again. Just like when we defeated Nicholas together!”
‘Immerse yourself in the role. Be faithful to the part. And deceive {me}. I am Kerapald.’
...But I don't know some psycho who believes he's Kerapald.
Who are you?
The only people who so intensely insist they are who they are are philosophers bored with life. Besides, this man's face didn't resemble Kerapald's at all.
He is not Kerapald.
But everyone else perceives him as Kerapald.
Even Shiati, who should have been closest to him, and Historia, who saved him from the riverbed.
“Kerapald. This is not the time.”
“Huh? The princess herself is here...?! Shiati, what's going on?”
“There are circumstances. Just calm down and listen, Kerapald.”
“How can I be calm? And who are they?”
Cognitive dissonance set in. Shiati, Historia, and the princess, who all know him, clearly perceive him as Kerapald. Even now, their gazes kept superimposing Kerapald's image onto that generic face.
But I know. There's no room for confusion.
Because this psycho, of all people, who claims to be Kerapald... is paradoxically, intensely aware that he is not.
Hoh. Look at this. He's swapped out the cover.
His skill is top-notch. From seizing the first chance to introduce himself, to casually rattling off shared experiences to make us perceive him as Kerapald. This is the work of a seasoned pro.
Building a sense of intimacy. It's a trick I often used in my own cons.
The only difference is, I can only imitate at best, while he can actually ‘transform’. Without a single exception, everyone sees him, feels him, and acts toward him as if he were Kerapald.
This is... something close to an Arcane.
A truly fraudulent ability. If I had that power, my cons wouldn't have been so difficult. It's in moments like these I feel the world is unfair.
Still, it's a good thing I have mind-reading.
If I hadn't seen through it, I would have been led right into a trap by this thing imitating Kerapald.
Like the sirens of legend luring sailors with their song, or the mimics from fairy tales baiting travelers with treasure. I would have undoubtedly followed this creature that came wearing a friend's face.
Now, what to do?
“Alright. I've decided.”
“Hm?”
I made my decision. Calming myself, I read his mind and mirrored him.
He is Kerapald.
He is Kerapald.
He is Zigrund wearing the mask of Kerapald.
No. Let's not read that far. He'll know I've figured him out.
He is not Zigrund... but the Shadow of the Military State, the head of Public Safety.
The darkness necessary for the stars to shine. The existing but unseen dark matter (黑質). The Watcher... not Camarilla Zigrund.
He is... someone who survived Hamelin, became a member of the Resistance, and is now overjoyed to finally see the fruits of his long infiltration.
My friend, Kerapald.
“…I had a feeling when I saw Shiati, but it really is you, Kerapald. It's good to see so many familiar faces after so long.”
I'm not happy to see him. He's a stranger. But I put on a bright smile, like someone reuniting with an old friend, and spoke to 'Kerapald' with an air of arrogance.
“Sorry, but the honor of destroying the Military State is mine for the taking.”
The version of me you have in your head. I'll play the part exactly as you expect.
When is a person most vulnerable?
When they're fast asleep?
When they're lost in admiration of a beautiful view?
No.
It's the moment just before they sink their teeth into their prey's throat. When all tension melts away, and they're soaked in the feeling of inevitable triumph.
The night of the hunt, of deception and being deceived, had begun.