Not That Kind of Romance (1)
Only after securing the reporter’s promise to cooperate with the operation was she finally allowed to descend from the ceiling. The negotiation had gone smoothly.
“Mommy, I want to go home…”
That was how it looked to everyone except the reporter herself.
“As I said, the necessary measures have already been taken. Every face in the footage has been swapped out. You’re probably dying to know how, but don’t ask. The only thing I can tell you right now is that I am an Eleim with the capability to do so. Light-magic reporter.”
Beni’s prearranged plan was simple.
“The stage is already set. All you have to do is flap your mouth. If the newspaper hounds you for an exclusive, apologize and say the video you uploaded was fabricated. If the security guards ask for details, testify that the whole thing was staged. Every clip you posted on the betting channels was fake. You heard a rumor that a Sapiens had fallen into Graveyard Valley and wanted attention, so you paid some people to act it out. Understood?”
The hospital staff had never seen the escaped Sapiens. The Niko twins had never helped him. The runaway Sapiens who had caused such an uproar about needing to be captured in broad daylight had most certainly never driven a greatsword into the crown prince of the Winter Kingdom’s testicles. In any case, if that was how things were, then that was how they were. Beni intended to dismiss the entire situation with a single stroke.
The reporter let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You think that’s actually going to work? Who’s going to believe that?”
“A specialist in fabrication like yourself shouldn’t be saying it’s impossible. Just tell them you worked hard to create the videos because you wanted to make money selling them. It’s not like light mages spreading manipulated footage is anything new, is it, Lucy?”
Nathan frowned. For a brief moment, a sense of dissonance washed over him as he looked at the elf dangling from the ceiling. Her expression hadn’t changed at all, yet her shoulders twitched. Even her voice trembled in a way that didn’t match her face.
“Lucy? Who’s that?”
“Who else? You. Lucy Ohenna. Freelance reporter who supplies footage to the media outlet ‘Voice of the Celestial God.’ You’re good at hiding your face, but your acting is painfully clumsy.”
Beni picked up another piece of fried meat, took careful aim, and threw it. This one looked like it would graze her cheek. Nathan’s eyes widened. Instead of bouncing off, the fried morsel passed straight through the elf’s cheek as if nothing were there.
So it wasn’t a random throw after all.
The fried meat struck the ceiling, bounced off the back of her head, and got tangled in her hair. It was a situation that should have made anyone furious, yet the elf’s face suddenly froze into an eerily blank mask. It was as if she couldn’t decide what expression to wear.
“You call yourself a freelancer, but is that really an honorable profession? Whenever blood is spilled somewhere, you rush over with your tablet to film the scene. And if the final product lacks a certain shock value, you occasionally spice it up with your own magic, don’t you?”
Hrozka, who had been watching, wore an intrigued expression as he stealthily reached out and snatched another piece of fried meat to chew on. As the number of freeloaders increased, the muscles in Kilika’s jaw tightened.
“What’s wrong with using magic to make it look like blood was sprayed across a peaceful scene? What’s the harm if a simple argument gets turned into an attempted murder? After all, no one has ever seen Lucy Ohenna’s real face, right?”
In truth, that had always been the case. And until now, it had been fine. Since no one knew her identity, there was no fear of retaliation. She had never shown her bare face to the security guards or to the victims of her manipulated videos—whether by turning transparent or by wearing a fake face created with magic.
But today, that disguise had been shattered.
“How did you find out?”
“I’m a doctor and a prosthetics artisan. Thanks to my deep knowledge of anatomy, I could tell it was a fake face. Even then, I had to observe very carefully to notice. It’s a crime to waste such sophisticated production skills on stalking. Have you ever considered switching careers to the visual media industry?”
“Hmph, this job pays way better… Wait, that’s not the point! My personal information! How did you get it?”
“I can’t answer that. So, are you going to do as I say, or not?”
From somewhere, Sweetie appeared with a metallic scraping sound and crawled across the ceiling. The hospital’s most terrifying mascot extended its tongue and licked the reporter’s head. The long blue tongue traced the contours of her true face hidden beneath the light magic. Unable to maintain the spell through her terror, the reporter’s final desperate act of defiance vanished in a flicker of light.
The pale face of Lucy that was revealed bore no resemblance to the confident, lively visage she had worn moments ago. Even while hanging upside down with blood rushing to her head, her complexion could still turn deathly white. Nathan found it fascinating.
“…And if things go wrong and I end up in court, are you going to take my place in prison? The gamblers might even try to kill me—”
“As long as you behave yourself, you’ll never have to meet either the security guards or the gamblers. They only know your fake identity. But I’ve seen your real face. I’ve also dug deep and wide through the network to learn exactly who you are, what you do, where you eat, which videos you’ve filmed… and who you owe money to. If you don’t play along with my plan, well… I might just send a very rudely worded text message to those creditors. One that would cause quite the misunderstanding.”
“You… Are you threatening a reporter right now?”
Her protest that journalists were not to be trifled with lacked any real conviction—even in her own eyes. Sweetie loomed ominously around the still-bound Lucy like a monstrous spider contemplating whether to dine on flies.
“Not at all. I’m simply informing you.”
Beni, who had been sipping her coffee, smiled sweetly. Life had returned to her tired eyes.
“The decision is yours to make.”
-----------------
The moment reporter Lucy’s feet touched the ground, her legs gave out. She shook off the hesitant hands offering support, staggered upright on her own power, and walked toward the hospital room assigned to her.
The immediate diagnosis was two weeks of complete rest. She would treat the minor injuries sustained from jumping into the lake and then leave. If recovery went well, it might be shortened to one week. Whether the trauma left in her heart could be healed, however, remained doubtful.
That was why Nathan watched the back of her head with a hint of sympathy.
“Poor thing.”
Beni spun her chair around and sat facing Nathan.
“‘Poor thing’ is what I want to say to you, Nathan. I let you go earlier because trying to stop you then seemed pointless, but since you’ve returned alive, I need to say something. Don’t act like you’re on the surface while you’re in the Heavens.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the whole ‘if they annoy me, I’ll kill them all’ attitude no longer works. On the surface, you were a respected warrior, so it was possible. The better you were at killing, the more people respected you. But that doesn’t fly here.”
Nathan recalled what had happened inside the arena. The better he fought, the louder the jeers and sighs had grown. The repulsive crowd that had screamed for him to stop resisting and just die. Of course, Beni’s meaning was entirely different. She was worried.
“The laws here are completely different from the surface.”
“Director, I think there’s a misunderstanding. The surface isn’t some barbaric wasteland falling apart at the seams. There are laws down there too. And that friend named Nathan is even a law enforcement officer, you know?”
Hrozka cut in. Though his tone was playful, there was a slight edge to his voice.
“That Federation man was simply fulfilling his duty as a knight. A demon used thugs and doppelgangers to kidnap women and children? Then beat them all down and rescue the victims! I am a knight! What a heart-stirring, heroic act! Though I suppose the romanticism of it might be lost on an Eleim hospital director like yourself.”
Nathan quietly sipped his drink. He was embarrassed by the praise, but it wasn’t as if he had acted purely out of noble motives. The one who had severed his wrist, and the sponsor who had generously funded that life-trade. The ones who had kidnapped Nilly were the same as Nathan’s enemies. The moment he realized that, Nathan had thought with savage joy: Perfect. I’ll slaughter them all. Other than his father, he had never been so furious at anyone in his life. So truthfully, even without Nilly, he would have fought with his life on the line. He was not ashamed of that. In Nathan’s mind, it had been justified revenge.
However, saying such things with the recently-rescued Nilly sitting right beside him felt awkward. Beni’s eyes narrowed. Thinking she had seen through his thoughts, Nathan quickly averted his gaze.
“Patient Hrozka, I believe you’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I meant. I know quite a bit about the Human Union as well. But this is the Heavens, not the Human Union. For a Federation knight to exercise extralegal authority, they would need the backing of an emperor or an inquisitor. But where in these Heavens would you find an inquisitor?”
Nathan was surprised. It was rather unexpected.
“And even if an inquisitor shouted their innocence at the top of their lungs, those pointy-eared bastards wouldn’t even pretend to listen. You seem to know an awful lot about the Federation for an elf.”
“The Eleim you’ve met so far didn’t know much, did they? Only a few Eleim with a particular interest in human nations know anything about them. Information is heavily restricted for ordinary citizens. If that weren’t the case, there would have been far more gamblers betting on you, O great Lionwing Knight.”
Come to think of it, that made sense. Kidnapping members of other races to throw them into fights was common, so there was no reason to treat a professional warrior from a war-torn background with such contempt. Two possibilities came to mind: either humans were rarely kidnapped, or there was deliberate interference.
“They don’t tell ordinary citizens about humans? Then you’re not an ordinary citizen?”
“I suppose I’m one of those oddballs who digs for information even if it means slipping through legal loopholes. I have a fondness for obscure fields that others ignore. The surface’s history, prosthetics craftsmanship, communications business, that sort of thing. Now that I think about it, I’m getting angry. Hrozka, you bastard. If I had no sense of romance, do you really think I’d spend my own money feeding, housing, and even healing the bones of riffraff like you?”
When Beni took the last piece of fried meat, Kilika muttered under his breath. Just take my liver while you’re at it. Beni didn’t even eat it—she threw it at Hrozka to punish him. Kilika’s expression grew even more miserable. Hrozka leaped from his chair in an exaggerated attempt to dodge.
“You’re quite healthy. You were pulling a bow earlier too. Just where is this perfectly healthy human sick that he counts as a patient?”
At Nathan’s question, Hrozka’s face brightened and he raised a finger.
“It’s a great secret I usually don’t share, but I feel I can tell you all. My wonderful comrades whom I met for the first time today yet with whom I have already risked my life in perfect harmony— I, Hrozka, am actually—”
“His illness is a loose tongue. And that’s the end of that! It’s dinner time. Since we’ve already eaten, let’s give the patients some space.”
Beni cut in and brought the conversation to a close. Sure enough, angry shouts were echoing from beyond the cafeteria door. Some were even threatening to shit their pants if the door wasn’t opened. The decisive blow was the mention of time to wash up. Nilly and the rest of the group were desperate to wash off the smell of the net as quickly as possible.
However, Nathan did not rise immediately. His head tilted unconsciously in suspicion. It didn’t seem like Beni had silenced the archer’s words solely for the patients’ sake.
-----------------
After taking a long, thorough bath, thoroughly complaining about wanting to go home, and finally settling down to sleep in a pleasant mood—hoping the sun would rise late tomorrow—Nathan was interrupted.
“What do you want to talk about?”
A sudden summons at eleven o’clock at night. But Nathan, now accustomed to surprise attacks, didn’t feel the slightest irritation. He had already suffered countless random incidents at the hands of those pointy-eared bastards. Being whispered at to follow someone while half-asleep didn’t even register as an event anymore.
“Even among the nonsense Hrozka usually spouts, there are occasionally useful bits. Romance. It’s a wonderful word.”
Beni’s voice sounded strangely excited. It was understandable. If Nathan had a hideout this well-decorated, even he would want to show it off.
Beni’s room on the second floor of the hospital was quite spacious. It took Nathan a while just to look around. Neatly arranged prosthetic prototypes and blueprints lined the walls. A flamboyant and aggressive Damascus full-plate armor caught the eye. Even the glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers that hadn’t shone in the morning light now gleamed softly under the gentle illumination.
Beni straightened the awestruck Nathan, then produced a small pair of scissors and began carefully cutting away the bandages he had freshly wrapped around his limbs after washing.
Nathan frowned.
“I went through all the trouble of wrapping them properly. Why?”
“I’ll rewrap them later. They’re fine anyway. How’s the injured pelvic area? Does it throb more than before?”
“My side? It’s bearable. Local anesthesia is amazing. There’s hardly any pain, and it’s healing nicely. As long as I don’t move too violently, I should be okay.”
That’s a relief.
Beni grinned and put the scissors away, then took Nathan’s hand and pulled him along.
“Even in this ruined palace that has become a gutter, there is romance in the things it turns its back on.”
“You mean those glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs? I agree.”
“No. If I had to say, I’m talking about you right now. You have far more romance in you than the stickers.”
When they reached the bed, Beni removed her outer garment and hung it on the wall. A much wider and bolder expanse of bare skin was revealed. Though he tried not to look, Nathan’s subconscious burned the image into his mind. It was larger than Aspen’s—dizziness struck him as if he had been slapped. Although he had been kicked away before, he did have some experience resembling romance. That was how he knew. What he had thought was a flying pebble had actually been a boulder loaded into a catapult.
Nathan finally understood Beni’s intention. From this point on, the gravity of the situation had changed. Among all the sudden events he had suffered at the hands of elves over the past few days, this was by far the most unexpected.
“Doesn’t this kind of thing happen on the surface sometimes? ‘Well done, wonderful knight. You must be so exhausted.’”
“Beni, wait a moment.”
“Actually, the moment you pierced that monster with a single thrust, I fell for you at first sight. Please don’t trample on this country girl’s admiration… Never experienced anything like it?”
He had seen it in novels that were embarrassing to even speak about. Most of them were the sort that would never be registered in the Index of Humanity. After shoving the lewd, imagination-stimulating phrases into a corner of his mind, Nathan searched his real memories.
Wherever the Lionwing visited, corpses were usually strewn about. Once the job was done, they left immediately, leaving no room for seduction or romance.
“Not at all.”
“…I read it in surface literature.”
“Books are just books. Yes, there were people who courted Lionwing knights. But there usually wasn’t time for… that sort of thing. We tend to leave the scene the moment the battle ends.”
The life of a Lionwing knight was not that of a person, but of a tool. Like white blood cells in blood, they had to rush across the Federation, which groaned under the constant appearance of monsters. There was simply no leisure to enjoy a leisurely romance with a stranger.
An awkward silence fell. Beni licked her lips, then spoke again.
“But that time… we have it now, don’t we?”
Nathan didn’t answer. Beni narrowed her eyes into crescents and gently tugged on his forearm. It was as stiff as if he had been bitten by a viper.
“…Was I being that obvious?”
Very obvious. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t noticed. Kilika might have helped Nathan because he felt he owed him his life. Hrozka, who had probably once been a soldier, might have stepped in out of delight at seeing a surface knight after so long. But Beni owed Nathan nothing, nor did she have any reason to miss him. If she was offering this much help, there had to be a reason.
Beni had no intention of hiding it, and Nathan had eventually caught on. To some extent.
“To some extent.”
“To some extent?”
Apparently blurting out his thoughts verbatim had not been a good choice. Another awkward silence spread. Beni gathered her courage and broke it. Within her whisper lay the faintest trace of reproach and a great deal of anticipation.
“So… are you going to do it, or not?”