Lesert Industries (3)
The day after our visit to Lesert Industries.
I was having lunch inside the office — now a little livelier with one more person among us — when a delivery man showed up carrying an enormous package.
The long, dark-toned box looked heavy even from the outside.
Setting the oversized parcel on the floor, the delivery man pulled out a terminal and held it out to me.
"You're Percival Smith, correct? Signature, please."
"Who sent it?"
"Says Wilson Eldeer."
A package from Wilson. Whatever was inside, it was unlikely to be anything shady.
I scrawled a large signature across the delivery man's terminal, then gripped the handle of the tightly sealed long box and lifted it. Just as expected, it had real weight to it.
"Appreciate it."
"Thank you for using our service."
Once he had the signature, the delivery man offered a quick bow and left the office.
I carried the box over to the table in the center of the room, and Sword Star came up to me with expectant eyes. I set the package down and made a point of ignoring her gaze while I looked it over.
Even at a glance, the box was suspiciously long — the kind of shape that would make anyone assume a sword was inside.
"The sword's here."
"Really?"
"Check the logo."
The Lesert Industries emblem was engraved into the exterior of the box. The contents were the sword Sword Star had left for repairs, but Wilson had clearly put some care into the packaging as well.
Recognizing the Lesert Industries logo herself, Sword Star reached for the box. Full of anticipation, she opened it at once — and there it was: a sword nestled in a sleek mechanical scabbard.
"My sword… my sword's back…"
"You look happy."
"Of course I am. My soulmate just came home."
Her golden eyes shone with emotion as she carefully lifted her blade. Then, as if she couldn't wait another second to check what was inside the scabbard, she drew the sword free.
A soft breeze brushed past her hair. With a distinctive metallic click, the silver blade revealed itself inside the office.
I had no memory of ever seeing Sword Star's sword in perfect condition with my own eyes — but the blade standing before us now was beautiful enough on its own.
"It's a little different. Still mostly the same as before, though."
"I don't know much about swords, but it looks excellent."
"Any issues with the functions?"
"I'll check. Sword Star Style—"
The moment the words left my mouth, Sword Star sheathed the blade. Then she settled naturally into a drawing stance, and I felt genuine alarm.
The place she was about to swing that sword was the office we lived in. The room was packed with furniture and fixtures. If she used one of her usual techniques in here, the result would be an irreversible disaster.
"Wait. Don't swing it in here."
"—Electric Fan."
Fortunately, my worry had been for nothing. Along with that familiar technique name, a cool wind swept through the entire office.
Sinel's bangs flipped upward, and her expressionless gaze turned toward Sword Star as she sheathed the blade again. Apparently she had a few more practical techniques than I'd given her credit for.
Still, the anticlimax was hard to shake. I looked at her with a naturally deflated expression and asked,
"…Satisfied with the performance?"
"The Black Market never could have fixed it this well. Thanks for helping."
"I only put in the effort a subordinate requires."
"Subordinate… Yeah. Okay. I'll work hard while I'm with you."
Sword Star smiled and nodded. The residual echo of my telepathy carried the joy radiating from inside her straight to me. Unlike Sinel, Sword Star was honest with her feelings. Seeing her genuinely happy put me at ease. If she was satisfied, that was enough.
We returned to our lunch and finished the meal. There hadn't been much food left, so it didn't take long.
"Waaah…"
Even after we were done eating, Sword Star kept staring at her sword for a long while. One moment she was gazing at it with a tense expression, the next she was stroking the smooth blade with her fingers and giggling to herself. Without the sword in her hands, she would have looked like a suspicious person. How much affection did you have to hold for a blade to act like that? I almost found myself impressed.
"She really loves that sword."
"So it seems."
"I think she'd be fine marrying it."
"…I'm genuinely afraid that might happen."
I snorted at Sinel's joke as we watched together. In fairness, Sinel's obsession with cats wasn't much milder. And for all I knew, I myself was fixated on something too.
A question I'd been putting off surfaced at just the right moment. I lifted my head and looked across the table at Sword Star. Meeting my steady stare, she made a puzzled face — the kind that looked ready to sprout a question mark at any second.
"If you don't mind, there's something I'd like to ask."
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Is your name Yuell, by any chance?"
To my daughter Yuell.
The name I'd found inscribed on the sword. Whether it truly belonged to Sword Star was still something I had a faint doubt about. This question was meant to confirm whose name it was.
Hearing me, Sword Star asked back without a hint of hesitation.
"…How did you know?"
"A swordsman's name is something you can read just by looking at their blade."
"That's amazing. You really are the Dark Merchant."
I had erased the inscription on the sword. To keep her from catching on, I fed her a lie mixed with just enough truth. But the answer that came back was unexpected. I had no memory of ever telling Sword Star the name Dark Merchant. Naturally, I had to ask her in return.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Sinel told me."
"…"
I shifted my gaze and found Sinel already petting Blackie — who was thrashing around in her arms, of course. I said nothing, just looked at her for a moment, then stood up to grab a beer.
What was I fixated on? For a brief second, I felt like I almost understood.
A dark back alley in District 8.
In a narrow passage where rats scuttled past in packs searching for food, a dust-covered man clenched his teeth and forced himself to his feet.
Builder Nicholas. That was the name of the man who had formed a two-person team with the criminal once known as Runaway Train.
A harsh grinding of teeth echoed through the alley. Nicholas ground them roughly, as if his rage still had nowhere to go, and glared at the person who had summoned him.
"You… what kind of face do you have, calling me out here?"
Standing before Nicholas was a figure wearing a mask. This was the client who had repeatedly proposed deals to Calvin. Every previous transaction had been mutually satisfactory — but this last one had been nothing like the rest.
The department store they had raided on this bastard's suggestion had been a trap from start to finish. Barely any time had passed after the incident broke before the Security Forces were already moving from inside the building itself. Then, as if they knew every detail about Calvin and Nicholas, they had systematically closed the noose around their throats.
That kind of precision was impossible unless information on both of them had been handed over to the Security Forces in advance.
"I'm not sure what the problem is supposed to be. You're the ones who accepted the job."
"You dug a pit, shoved us into it, and now you're spouting that garbage?!"
"Things just twisted in an unfortunate direction. The Security Forces being there was never something I intended."
Even so, the masked client carried himself as if he bore no fault at all. The veins stood out on Nicholas's face as they talked. Calvin had been more than a simple partner to him. Nicholas jabbed a finger at the man's mask and spat the words out.
"Calvin died because of you!"
"Honestly? You lost to the Security Forces because you were weak. Am I wrong?"
"Die, you son of a bitch!"
Nicholas pulled a grenade from his coat. The fact that this man had come alone already told him the other party was no ordinary person. He might even be a Security Forces plant. As long as he could kill the man and avenge Calvin, Nicholas didn't care what happened next.
"A foolish move."
The grenade's pin was pulled and it left Nicholas's hand. But the grenade flying through the air struck a wall and bounced straight back toward him.
Thud. Clatter-roll.
At the sight of the grenade landing at his own feet, Nicholas toppled backward and scrambled across the ground.
"S-S-"
Stone Wall
A massive wall shot up in an instant, splitting the space between Nicholas and the grenade. Right after, an explosion roared out and rattled his eardrums.
BOOM!
The shockwave of the blast traveled through the stone wall he was leaning against. Once the vibrations faded from the surface he'd pressed himself to, Nicholas pushed himself up again and dismissed the wall.
Beyond the vanished barrier, the masked man stood without a single scratch.
"Wh-what…"
"Pathetic. Body and mind — both of them."
"What kind of magic was that?"
"Magic, is it? Not entirely wrong. Though figuring out the trick is your job."
Click.
A cold sensation touched the back of Nicholas's head, and his hands froze. Another masked figure had appeared behind him at some point, pressing a gun barrel against him. Startled, Nicholas slowly raised both hands.
The mask was identical to the man in front of him — but the build and height belonged to a completely different person.
"…You're not the same guy."
"Did you really think you could beat us alone?"
"Us?"
"That's right. We of the Ghost Army are not singular."
"G-Ghost Army…"
He had heard of them. Criminals said to appear anywhere without warning and vanish without leaving a single trace. Despite the Security Forces posting bounty after bounty, no one could even confirm whether they were an individual or an organization — a presence of pure dread.
Nicholas had always found Calvin's client suspicious, but he had never imagined the man's true identity was the infamous Ghost Army.
"Come to think of it, I still haven't introduced myself. Allow me to start over."
"Y-you…"
"A pleasure. I am the Commander — the Commander of what the world calls the Ghost Army."
A top-priority wanted criminal of the Security Forces. A 6th Circle Archmage. A figure shrouded in such secrecy that even his name remained unknown — and from behind the mask covering his face, a soft laugh slipped out.
Hearing that laugh, a chill ran down Nicholas's spine.