Safehouse on the Uninhabited Island
Thirty minutes after the bomb squad dispatched from Kikiwai Police Headquarters had dealt with the rocket—its fuse cleanly severed—we finally escorted the newlyweds out of the bank. It had been a brief conversation, but I'd gotten a rough sense of their situation.
Father-in-law, most likely. Or maybe one of the wife's other brothers.
I thought it was one of my brother's sisters.
The two of them were insisting that the other's family had definitely hired the assassin. In a way, it was very newlywed of them to be locked in such sharp opposition.
"Already creaking like this—are they gonna be okay?"
I asked, and Elama shot me a glare, his face turning serious.
"You wouldn't know 'cause you've never been married. Tell any newlyweds to step forward if they haven't badmouthed their spouse's family."
"So you're married."
"What? Jealous?"
"No, just... your wife must be something else to put up with that personality."
Thwack!
"Agh!"
Elama drove a knee into my thigh. It hurt so bad I had to limp all the way to the parking lot, even with the cops escorting us. I saw them stifling laughs the whole time. Infuriating, seriously.
"This way, please."
It was Deputy Manager Razma who took the initiative and loaded the couple into a car. With several official vehicles lined up, I'd been wondering where to put them, so it was a bit surprising when he stepped up first.
"Razma of all people volunteering like that... kinda weird."
I'd never seen that guy show consideration for anyone except private banking clients.
Why volunteer to escort assassination targets himself?
"A rational judgment, I think."
That's when Isaac, passing by as I muttered to myself, answered.
"Why? Another scary thing might fly at the car. With that personality, he'd have pulled rank on us back in the day. Least natural thing is him not insisting on driving."
"Hmm. I think he's doing it on purpose, though."
Isaac grabbed the wheel himself for some reason and shoved me into the passenger seat. Only after the car door shut and the line of official vehicles started pulling out of the outpost parking lot did he continue.
"He's undead, so it doesn't matter what happens to him."
"Now that you mention it..."
"A gamble with no real risk."
"A gamble... yeah, that makes sense."
I got the gist.
"Rich kid and heiress, so he's hedging his bets."
Even if they're coming to the bank now 'cause they're broke, they could be future clients. Smart move to help out intentionally. Guy's sharp as ever. Planning to inherit the family fortune someday and have them come to him for private banking consultations.
He's probably grilling them for info under the guise of small talk in the car right now. Or maybe outright pitching services, emphasizing how he's taken on the dangerous role. Since he's already died once, getting caught in an assassination attempt costs him nothing. No reprimand even if the couple dies, but if it works, he scores a big-fish client down the line. Worth a shot.
Something only an undead could think of. Hitting up a young couple who might not even become his clients for another decade or two—shows his sense of time is totally different from a mortal like me.
"Let's go for now. Can't just let the clients die."
And so, the convoy of black sedans driven by bankers in peril raced along Kikiwai's beaches.
The destination—
"Wait, where are we even going?"
"...Yeah, good question."
Why hasn't Elama told us the destination? Kinda unsettling.
The main estates of the Vainaus and Leoniev families were located at the northern and southern extremities of Great Huuriten, respectively. The two houses differed in everything, from inherited secret chocolate-making techniques to the origins and varieties of cacao beans they used.
And it wasn't just chocolate-related matters. The architectural styles they referenced for their mansions, the watch brands they favored, fountain pens—even their clothing. They strove to differentiate themselves in every way, fueled by mutual loathing.
Leoniev pursued innovation; Vainaus clung to tradition. Their ancestors' tales were known not just to enthusiasts but across dimensions.
Once colleagues in a small shop, they'd grown into dominant luxury chocolate franchises amid endless dark rumors. Deals with devils or similar entities. Hiring underworld thugs to sabotage rivals.
Most were fabrications born of envy toward their rapid rise in brand reputation and franchise numbers. But family members knew some rumors rang true.
Thus, they seduced the world with sweet chocolate, packaging their name while aiming guns at each other from the shadows.
"Ancient grudge, huh? Rare for families to hate on that level. Passing down enmity for 200 years feels a bit unrealistic."
"Sometimes later generations hate enemy nations more than those who fought the wars."
"......"
Sounds familiar. Déjà vu?
"Besides, the feud between Leoniev and Vainaus has positively shaped their brand value."
"Once they realized people love the rivalry and buy from both sides, they've leaned into their roles."
"Like pro wrestling."
Listening to them, I could see how it all worked. Over centuries treating each other as enemies, the families had over-immersed in their roles. Profitable commercially and emotionally satisfying.
Result? This couple's free love and marriage attempt got in the way.
Sending assassins after their own kids showed over-immersion was seriously harmful.
"By the way, we can really use this place?"
I asked Elama, lounging casually, and he snorted.
"Cleared it with HQ ahead of time."
"They approved surprisingly easy."
"Of course. After that VVIP nearly got assassinated at the hotel last time. Told 'em I'd report straight to the president if anyone gets hurt this time."
"...Ah, I see."
No thug like him. But since he's on our side, welcome aboard.
"At least you two can relax now."
Our safehouse choice was plenty reassuring for the couple. Luxurious facility, open views of nothing but ocean. No buildings around except our 10-story resort hotel.
A tiny island afloat in the sea. No ships nearby, stocked with food and water. Staff are all facility managers. Golden holiday crowds, but everyone knows everyone a bridge away. Managers recognize Elama and the other deputies from past visits.
Hard for assassins to sneak in. We'd hole up here, handle work remotely till things settled. Can't just clock in right after a terror attack.
That's why I'd fetch key gear like data terminals via dimensional gate with the other bankers later.
So where were we? A private safehouse on Kikiwai somewhere.
Precisely, a resort on an uninhabited island 30 minutes by boat from the main island, exclusive to Dimensional Credit Vault staff and affiliates.
To safely relocate Adijen and Minoli amid unknown surveillance, Elama went extreme.
Installed a mobile dimensional gate in a remote underground lot no one passes. Sent four official vehicles through one by one. Retrieved the field-blocking tent and closed the gate. Loaded the closed gate onto a beat-up delivery truck parked there and had it cruise Kikiwai spots for a while.
No trace left even if assassins show; impossible to track.
TL;DR: We crossed via dimensional gate but ended up back in 6-2's Kikiwai. Gates don't require dimension-hopping; same-dimension emergency use approved by HQ and city gov.
Splash
Swish
Waves lapping sand echoed here, on a bank-owned uninhabited island 30 minutes by boat from the main island.
Originally a resort for staff long vacations—even HQ bigwigs visit—so meticulously maintained.
Elama leveraged the Nanoi incident to get permission for anytime gate access under "protecting staff and clients."
Not going straight via gate but by car was to avoid bank attacks. Double confusion for assassins.
Dunno when he prepped, but youngest deputy manager seat wasn't won playing cards.
Thinking up tricks in that split second? Worth learning.
Lodging, cuisine, services rival Kikiwai's top hotels. True to their wealthy roots, Adijen and Minoli calmly sat around the tea table without gawking like me.
"You can stay safely here during loan review."
"Thank you for your consideration..."
Hard to face assassination over a loan. But isolated island, ferries restricted to approved personnel—reassuring. Only after Isaac and I stuffed them with lounge treats to calm nerves.
Explanation sounded good, but another assassin means trouble. Prep defenses during review.
"Gotta grab the security footage when I hit the bank later."
Colossus hovering silently beside me and Isaac nodded each.
"That it?"
Yohane activated the tracker, eyed the distant island, and muttered.
Uninhabited speck invisible to normal eyes. But his superhuman sight—thanks to telescope-like extended eyeballs—clearly made out the buildings.
Child's play for a descendant of a freely shape-shifting race.
"Could board the ferry transformed, but where's the fun?"
Imagining the targets' faces realizing no safe haven from him thrilled the sadist assassin.
"Relax. Won't kill you."
Ignoring stares, he strolled the beach in clothes into the sea. Suicidal to onlookers.
But fins sprouting from his back denied it, already twitching with excitement.
"Just give you a nightmare of terror."
Anticipating the soon-panicked prey.