†Chapter 7: Snare†

 

 

 

†Chapter 7: Snare†

 

EUPHEMIA became engrossed in conversation with Maurice and didn’t leave his house until the promised dinner date with Haydn.

“I’m terribly sorry for being late. I borrowed a room downstairs to change before dinner.”

Thinking it was inappropriate to wear a work suit to a luxury restaurant, Euphemia changed into an elegant dress, put on casual jewelry, and fixed her hair and makeup. She practically ran up to the restaurant on the top floor with Ronaldo, but still arrived slightly past seven. She was on pins and needles worrying she’d offended Haydn, but he welcomed them with a generous wave of his hand.

They were shown into a private room with a stunning view of the nighttime scenery.

“Oh, that’s perfectly all right. It’s natural for women to take time to prepare themselves. You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you very much. It was a gift from my sister,” Euphemia responded amiably to his obvious flattery. “I didn’t know there was a TV station in this building. It’s no wonder I saw so many people coming in and out on my way up.”

“Yes. There seems to have been a special event held today.”

“I saw a lot of big rigs in the parking garage. Wonder if they were for the event,” Ronaldo added.

“There certainly were a lot,” Haydn responded, waiting for a break in their small talk to call over the waiter.

The waiter waiting at the back of the room respectfully handed them the menus and explained the specials. They were being waited on hand and foot, as expected of VIP treatment in a private room.

Aperitifs were served before the first course.

“This is wonderful wine. I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” Euphemia said, holding the beautiful red liquor under the chandelier lights. The wine she tasted for the first time perfectly fit her palate. In the back of her mind she stressed that she mustn’t drink too much.

“This is a wine made from grapes harvested from grapevines grown in fields artificially altered to reproduce the exact taste of grapes from the old world,” Haydn explained, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Then you used seeds from stasis?” Euphemia asked. Botany was her primary research field.

“Yes, I was able to obtain them after extensive searching. Things left behind by the old world bring us immeasurable benefits to this day. Wine is but one of many gifts they imparted,” Haydn said, spellbound by the ruby-red alcohol he held up to the light.

“…I wonder what happened to that world. There was a whole civilization there, the things that they made, and the things that they lived alongside. How could we just lose a planet and its people?” Euphemia asked. That question had plagued her for a long time.

“Many say that our homeworld and its people shared their fate with the dying sun. We are the ones they sent out into the galaxy. The old worlders picked our ancestors just before the world’s demise and entrusted the future to them. We must not forget that we are the descendants of the chosen ones,” Haydn articulated with confidence.

“But why isn’t there any record of it or what came after? Was there a reason they chose not to write down their history?” Ronaldo asked, unusually serious.

“Maybe there was some conflict they didn’t want later generations to know of?”

“Perhaps there are some things we are better off not knowing, and yet I find the old saying ‘those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it’ is also valid. If we don’t know why they left, how can we make sure the same fate doesn’t happen to the colonies?”

“…You say some thought-provoking things, Euphemia.”

Dinner proceeded surprisingly well over the chosen conversation topic.

Every dish was superb and the setting left nothing wanting. Even Haydn, who normally seemed to dislike interacting with others, perfectly entertained his two young dinner guests. He teased Ronaldo and complimented Euphemia at all the right times.

Compared to Gothic City, where the buildings towered over the land and pierced the sky like spears, Romanesque City had an idyllic atmosphere, and the night view from the top floor of the tallest building in the city was breathtaking in its own way.

“Do you own this entire building?” Euphemia asked Haydn.

“It belongs to my company rather than me personally. The same applies to all the surrounding buildings.”

“Holy Muta. You have more money than I could even imagine,” Ronaldo joked.

“Only having money is boring. I’m an old single man after all. Money only has meaning if you have something worth spending it on,” Haydn answered Ronaldo with a composed smile.

“What? You aren’t married, Mister Haydn?” Euphemia asked.

“Never got married. Don’t have any living family members either. Hahaha, I’m a lonely old man. All I have going for me are my hobbies.”

“Your hobbies? Please don’t tell me your hobby is working?”

“Good one,” Haydn laughed. “I certainly enjoy my work, but I wouldn’t call it a hobby… I’m not that miserable of a man, I hope.”

“Mister Haydn…”

“Would you please stop with the formalities? My friends call me Zig. My first name is Ziggurat.”

As far as formalities were concerned, Haydn was being far too formal with them when they were much younger than him, but being polite seemed to be his default mode. Euphemia, however, was more surprised that Haydn had friends who were close enough to call him by a nickname.

“Ziggurat? That’s an unusual name.”

“Isn’t it? It’s a word taken from the old world. Apparently it refers to a holy pyramid temple that connected heaven and earth.”

He skillfully hid it from his face, but Haydn pronounced that word with the utmost care. He took great pride in his name.

“A holy temple that connects heaven and earth?”

“Yes.” Haydn stared at Euphemia.

“What a wonderful name… May I ask what your hobbies are?” she asked to escape his sticky gaze.

“Well…to sum it up in one easy word: movies… Or perhaps filming fits better?”

“Movies! That’s a great hobby!” Ronaldo exclaimed. “I love movies too.”

“I enjoy watching videos… I fancy old world video data in particular. Not a lot of it is well-known today, but there are some excellent pieces,” Haydn said, more animated than usual.

“Oh…I’ve caught the occasional special feature on IHT TV. I believe the works of the past were a lot more imaginative than those today,” Euphemia said, taking another sip of wine.

“I agree. What I enjoy the most are documentaries that show reality. The true, raw filming data without any special effects or post-editing. The nitty-gritty type. Love it so much I ended up becoming a TV station owner.”

“Wow! That’s what makes you so different from the rest of us. You act on your interests,” Ronaldo said, sincerely impressed.

“I can dispatch my film crew to different locations and have them film various types of unedited content. Makes my hobby easier than gathering film data alone.”

“Have you gathered a lot of films up until now?” Euphemia asked.

“Oh yes, I certainly have. Everything from the beautiful to the shocking… I ended up with such a wide collection I have started to narrow down the genres I’m looking for now. How would you like to see my film archives someday, Euphemia? I would love to show you,” Haydn said with a smile. “Oh, would you like some more?” He gestured to her half-empty wineglass. The waiter came over and filled it to the brim.

“Are you sure you want to show me? My older sister is Mayor Saionji.”

“That doesn’t matter. Your sister is certainly my rival, but you aren’t. She’s an understanding person. I’m certain she will allow it. There is a film I am dying to show you.”

“I look forward to seeing this wonderful film of yours then,” Euphemia said with an open-mind and a placid smile as the excellent wine made her feel like she was on cloud nine.

†††

THE air feels sticky.

There was no sound, but Euphemia could feel the humidity on her skin—it was raining. Rain trapped moisture in the earth and people in their homes.

“……”

Euphemia cracked open her crusty eyes. Something unfamiliar encapsulated her stiff body. An expensive silk blanket rubbed against her skin as she stirred. She didn’t remember owning any silks. Then again, her mind was foggy.

Her senses slowly started to return through the haze.

What in the Wilds happened to me?

She reached out and patted down her body. Relief washed over her when she felt her clothes were on. The room was dark, but not submerged in pure darkness. She turned her neck and looked down at a narrow beam of light on the floor just beyond her feet. The door to another room appeared to be cracked open. Light leaked in from that slight opening. A cold, blue light.

What is that?

She was struck by an intense wave of dizziness when she tried to get up. Nauseous, she sank back into the blanket. Soft warmth enveloped her chilled and sweaty body. She was lying on what should have been a very comfortable king-sized bed covered in exquisite blankets and fluffy down pillows. One she was unfamiliar with.

“What?”

Where am I? What is this place? Why am I here?

Panic slowly sunk in. Euphemia’s stomach churned and bile rose up the back of her throat.

Calm down. Panicking won’t get you anywhere. What do you remember last? I was having dinner with Ronaldo and Mister Haydn…and then…

She remembered dinner reaching the main course. They were in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation about movies when her wineglass was topped off.

The wine?!

“I see you’ve come to.”

Someone had come to stand beside Euphemia while she had her eyes squeezed shut to stop from throwing up.

“…What?” She opened her eyes. Haydn was standing beside the bed. “U-Um, why am I…?”

“Oh, it’s all right. You just had a little too much to drink and fell asleep. I carried you to my suite on the floor below the restaurant. You can rest easy.”

I can’t rest easy! How could I have humiliated myself in front of Erica’s rival like this?! Euphemia panicked.

“I-I’m sorry…for the trouble! I will head right home,” she said in a flurry.

“How will you do that?” Haydn asked, his voice flat.

“By helicopter… What time is it? We planned on leaving at ten, right? But is it just me or does it seem like it’s raining?”

If it’s raining, then it’s well past midnight?

“It is… It’s just past four in the morning. I made the decision that it was best for you to go home tomorrow since you were sound asleep. There aren’t any helicopters that will fly in this downpour,” Haydn said, crushing any hope that she could leave now.

No wonder why it felt sticky. It’s always like that at this hour. Just how drunk did I get to lose consciousness? I was being so careful not to have more than a glassful.

Euphemia cringed and felt miserable for having screwed up royally once again.

But I didn’t even drink a whole glass… The waiter came over and refilled it once I reached the halfway mark… I don’t remember finishing that glass.

“I-I’m sorry, but I need to contact my sister…”

“Don’t you worry about that. I will handle matters with Mayor Saionji,” Haydn said.

“You are going to contact her? By the way, what happened to Ronaldo?”

“Oh, him. He is resting in another room. He fell asleep like you.”

No way. Ronaldo drank himself unconscious too?

Ronaldo could hold his liquor better than most. Euphemia was starting to sense that something troubling was afoot. But she felt so dizzy and sick to her stomach that she struggled to think straight.

“I-I see. I’m sorry we both inconvenienced you so… I promise to make it up to you a-at a later time… E-Excuse me, but where might my purse be?” she asked, her tongue dry and causing her to stutter.

“Your purse? It’s in this room over here.” Haydn’s voice lacked any tone.

“Oh, thank you. I wanted to send a message to a friend on my IHT…”

I’ll let Zelaide know what happened. He might come get me first thing. And I’ll take the chance to secretly send a message to Erica, just in case…

Euphemia barely managed to slide out of bed and stand. Bile threatened to come up her throat, her head spun like a top, and her legs wobbled. But she had to push through.

Concentrating on putting one unstable foot in front of the other, she staggered into the adjoining room.

This room was also spacious, and although it was dark without the lights on, there was one big light source illuminating the space.

A huge monitor faced the door and a bunch of smaller ones lined the walls around her.

What played there was—

“See this? It’s a Bijour. Ain’t it cute?”

Headlights illuminated the dark Wilds and the backs of two men. They had their hands on a woman.

“H-How…did you get one of these?!”

“This area here seems soft… Plus, it’s in view of the camera.”

“N-No… Stop it… Stop it!”

The woman’s face crumpled with fear on the screen.

“Don’t screw with me!”

The video stopped playing and the room darkened without the flickering lights.

The last image from froze on the monitors, illuminating Euphemia in its blue glow as she stood there in shock.

“…Wasn’t it a splendid film? This is what I have been dying to show you,” a velvety voice whispered next to her ear.

Euphemia was speechless.

“But there isn’t anything worth watching after that. I always stop it there. After all, the rest of the footage is ruined by that loathsome Beast Blood. I really ought to properly edit it soon…”

“…Mister Haydn?” Euphemia squeezed out from her parched throat, her voice trembling.

“It’s Zig. Please call me that, Euphemia… Your name is beautiful as well…”

“What in the colonies is this…?”

“You can’t tell? It’s video footage of you from that time… Let me rewind it for you.” Haydn pressed the replay button. All the monitors in the room began playing again.

“…These unintelligent buffoons obscure the view, but don’t you think your terrified face is a pure work of unadulterated art? Not to mention…this expression here!” Haydn paused the video.

He stopped on the image of Euphemia pinned under the men, her shirt ripped open. It was the moment Euphemia, driven to despair, resolutely raised her free hand to slit her own throat.

“Aahh…it doesn’t get better than this…” Haydn cooed.

The video began to play in slow motion. Haydn intently watched the largest monitor, his euphoric expression lit up by the blue backlight.

“You were prepared to die here, right? Your eyes in this instant were…breathtaking. I have watched it hundreds of times and it still gives me chills… Say, Euphemia?” Haydn stepped closer. “I want to see this face again. In person. I have prepared the perfect stage for you. Sleep for now. I will have taken you somewhere even better by the time you awake…”

†††

“URRGGHH…!” Euphemia threw up bitter gastric juices.

How many times have I thrown up now?

The polished washbasin in the beautiful marble bathroom was stained and dirtied with vomit. Automatic sensors responded with a stream of water that washed the vomit down the drain in a swirl.

“Nggh…haaah…”

Her stomach painfully contracted even though she shouldn’t have anything left to throw up. Sweat beaded her face. Several droplets trickled down her chin onto the cold floor. She couldn’t stop gasping for air. Nor could she bring herself to look in the mirror. She was keenly aware of the man filming her from behind. She’d rather die than let him capture the look on her face right now.

From what Euphemia could tell, about one whole day had elapsed since she was abducted. She couldn’t be sure because there weren’t any clocks in this room and all the windows were shuttered.

Haydn said it was around four in the morning when she first woke up in his suite.

Clearly he had transported her somewhere after she fell asleep and she had no idea where she was now. At the very least, she could guess it wasn’t in the same building as his TV station where he had treated her to dinner. It was too loud there for the sheer lack of noise now. But without looking outside, she didn’t know whether this was somewhere within Romanesque City or not.

Almost half a day has gone by since I woke up. So it has to be around evening time, Euphemia deduced.

Ever since she woke up she had been forced to watch Haydn’s cherished collection of videos in this creepy room. Each video captured horrifying atrocities such as people being pushed into a cage full of starving Bijours or women being raped by several men at once. This was the collection Haydn so desperately wanted her to view. His hobby.

Haydn grabbed her by the back of the head and forced her to watch his sick videos. She wasn’t allowed to close her eyes or look away. Whenever she tried to, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t you care what will happen to Ronaldo?” He threatened to give him the same fate as the young men fed to Muta in his precious videos.

The only thing he allowed her to do was run to the bathroom and throw up once it became too much. Haydn ecstatically filmed her throwing up with his camcorder. That was the only moment she had away from the monitors.

“Are you finished?” he asked in that coaxing, velvety voice of his.

Every time she heard it, Euphemia had the urge to throw up. She glared over her shoulder at the man filming her as she clung to the washbasin.

“Ooh…excellent. Your gemlike eyes moistening with anguish and hate is exquisite. Seeing you bite your lips until they bleed…gives me chills and a thrill I just can’t find anywhere else. Come on out. I have much more to show you.”

Haydn looked down at Euphemia, who glared hatefully up at him, and smiled like a good-natured old man might. He gave her trembling back a gentle push, hurrying her back into the luxurious viewing room to show her the next video. The room remained dark with only the square light coming from the TVs to illuminate it.

Haydn guided her down into a plush, leather easy chair.

“How…how could you do something so cruel?” Euphemia hissed while he filled a cup with high-grade liquor within reach of her.

“Hm? I haven’t done a single thing. These are merely films I have collected. I wasn’t involved in their making. This is simply my private collection to enjoy during my personal time.”

“Liar! You made those people do these horrible things to others! Some of the people being run over by trucks and torn to shreds by Muta were screaming your name!” Euphemia shouted despite her burning throat.

“What they scream has nothing to do with me. Look…a young boy is the star of this one. He has such long and pretty limbs. Aren’t you hot with anticipation wondering what will happen to him?”

“…Stop it…just stop it! I’ve had enough. I’m going to lose my mind if I see anymore!” Euphemia covered her ears and shoved her face between her legs.

Haydn yanked her back into a viewing position by the hair.

“That’s a lofty opinion coming from the filthy woman who gave her body over to that Beast Blood mongrel,” Haydn spat before his attention went back to the screens. “Oh, look, look. The boy is about to be violated by that big man. Can you tell that the boy is a young Beast Blood? See, his eyes are glowing.”

The camera zoomed in on the boy’s wide, terrified eyes. Faint light radiated from his irises. He looked around seven or eight in human years. Brutish men surrounded him. Beast Bloods possessed physical prowess leaps beyond humans, but he was still just a small child. He stood no chance against several adult men.

The boy screamed something at the screen. But there was no sound. Around half of the videos Haydn forced her to watch were soundless. This sociopath said he liked to enjoy their terrified expressions without it being contaminated by sound. True enough, their muted fear burned into the mind.

“We captured this youngling while he was roaming the Sea of Trees. He was used to create several titillating videos,” Haydn said without an ounce of guilt.

Euphemia was frightened by his casual use of the past tense. She didn’t want to think of what his fate was in the end.

“You’re sick. I don’t want to watch anymore of this crap with you…” Euphemia hissed between gritted teeth. She wrenched her body away, not caring that he had a fistful of her hair clenched in his hand. For a small man, Haydn had a strong grip.

“Hahaha… You will become docile soon enough… And once you do, I will produce and direct the best film for you to star in. Aahh, how I look forward to it,” Haydn said, tossing Euphemia onto the floor when she bit his hand.

Euphemia braced herself as she hit the ground and glared up at him. From the floor she saw Haydn’s black pants growing taut in the crotch area. He was being turned on. The cruel fate of the victims in his videos aroused the sick bastard. However, oddly enough, he didn’t once touch Euphemia in a sexual manner or even suggest it.

“What are you staring at?” Haydn followed her gaze to his nether region. “Oh, I see. Are you getting aroused as well and want me to embrace you now?”

Euphemia averted her gaze from his sickeningly stick smile.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t possess the vulgar hobby of rubbing bodies with women,” he continued with a chuckle. “Thrusting a piece of my body into another is nothing but repugnant. Women can’t satiate me. But I suppose…if you become the splendid heroine from my marvelous script and show me that expression that has captivated me so…I might finally be satisfied.”

“…What?”

“You tried to take your own life before you could be raped by those punks in the pitch-dark Wilds. Your eyes in that very moment had overcome fear and reached utopia. I’ve never seen such heavenly emerald… Ahh, it’s so thrilling…! Ahhn!”

Haydn suddenly threw his head back, leaned into the chair, and convulsed. At first Euphemia thought he had a stroke, but that wasn’t it. A wet stain slowly seeped through the nether region of his suit.

“Aaaah! Just reimagining it does this to me… After watching it so many times, it has practically become a piece of me.”

Euphemia’s gut churned. She bent over to throw up again, but nothing came out.

“I actually wanted to get my hands on you sooner, Euphemia.”

“Then you’re the one sent those Vermi—”

“No. That was an honest coincidence.”

That was the day Euphemia had become so enthralled by the Night Blooms, she drove down the freeway in the dead of night. The same day she met her strong and beautiful Beast Blood.

“Those Vermi planned to feed a young woman to the Bijour, but you becoming their target was a miracle.”

This man calls that night a miracle?

It wasn’t the Vermi who planned to attack a young woman, but this man who ordered them to do it. Euphemia just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But, to her, meeting Zelaide really was miraculous.

Tears stung the back of her eyes as she thought back on the day he saved her. Am I a horrible, unscrupulous woman for being even slightly grateful to this man for making that encounter possible? She bit the inside of her cheek.

“And then…that foul Beast Blood had to ruin it…” Haydn grimaced as if he knew what Euphemia was thinking. His brows snapped together with irritation, erasing his prior euphoria. “Filthy beast… You already allowed yourself to be defiled by that dirty animal… No way you haven’t after how hard you tried to entice him in the breeding room…”

Haydn looked with disgust upon Euphemia on the floor.

“W-Was it you? You learned about Zelaide and me and used his sperm to…”

Was he the coward who cruelly murdered Manuela and framed Zelaide for it?

“No. Shank’s the one who did that,” Haydn answered with amusement.

Euphemia had no idea what was so amusing.

“Who’s Shank?”

That was the name confessed by the man Zelaide strung up the night he saved her.

“Shank is…”

“My other name.”

The large door suddenly opened. A slender man stood in the doorway.

“Good grief. You finally made it. You are always such a handful.” Haydn shrugged and shook his head.

Euphemia couldn’t make out the newcomer’s face because it was bright behind him. But his silhouette and tempered voice belonged to someone she knew well.

“Y-You… You’re…” Euphemia strained her eyes as she clamored to her feet.

Impossible. It can’t be. This can’t be happening.

“Why…?”

I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it. I can’t…

The shadowed figure sighed.

“…I warned you so many times… You wouldn’t be here if you had listened. I’m sorry, but you will have to play your role until the end now, Euphemia Ashencourt.”

Her voice was heavy with despair as she gasped out, “Director Burhardt…”

†††

THINKING was never Zelaide’s strong suit. Once he started concentrating on his thoughts, he was forced to face his inner self like looking into a mirror. He felt cut off from the outside world whenever he faced the beast within.

That was why he was always on the move. Unnecessary thoughts didn’t haunt him when he was moving his body. Anxiety and distress were always waiting just around the corner to crush him the moment he stood still. The past and future were not to be thought about. Only the present mattered.

Too many things had felt oddly out of place as of late. While each was insignificant on its own, the number of oddities continued to multiply at a dizzying rate, growing into one grand annoyance. He wouldn’t be able to move on unless he put the trivial puzzle pieces together and saw the bigger picture behind it.

Zelaide’s instincts set off alarm bells within him. Blaming his inability to think on his lack of education was a sorry excuse. He was capable of thinking, he just didn’t like to. Now was the time to put his brain to work and grab hold of the clues before they became missing puzzle pieces.

Which clues mattered most?

The man named Shank that the young Inferni blurted out definitely mattered. This plain-looking man was supposedly in a boxlike, empty room, and wore specs with a different thickness and color on one side.

Who was this shadowy figure who appeared and disappeared behind the scenes of conflict?

And then there was someone at Biotech who knew in advance that Euphemia was going to invite him into the breeding lab that night. Murakami was currently looking into who it might be, but it was unquestionably someone Euphemia knew well. But she had gone to great lengths to keep their little rendezvous a secret. She said she turned the cameras around and cut the sound before asking Zelaide to join her in the lab.

The spy knew Zelaide and Euphemia were together and left them be. And then they watched what happened from another room. Otherwise, the emergency alarm wouldn’t have sounded with such impeccable timing. There obviously wasn’t a malfunction. The spy set it off to stop them from making love.

Enemies abounded inside Biotech, City Hall, and Gothic City. But where was Shank?

Wei and Murakami were narrowing down the suspects based on various data such as the history of who accessed that room. They would investigate using human means and abiding by human laws. But Zelaide’s weapon was neither the law nor the strength of belonging to an organization such as Biotech or the police force. Raw instinct was all he had going for him.

The sleeper agent was someone inside Biotech who had close and personal knowledge about Zelaide and Euphemia. Since they were targeting Zelaide, they had to be a member of Infernum or one of the syndicates behind it. There were plenty of staff members at Biotech who were friends with Euphemia but didn’t know about Zelaide.

The only people he had contact with were Sonia, Ronaldo, a couple of her immediate coworkers, and her bosses Burhardt and Murakami. The rest were just nameless faces that might have seen him when he came to pick her up. Who should he suspect in this situation? How should he narrow it down?

But each person I met was oddly fixated on me in different ways.

Zelaide thought back on the few occasions he interacted with them. Sonia threw herself on him out of sexual attraction, Ronaldo had a bone to pick with him over his interest in Euphemia, and Burhardt was interested in him from a scientific perspective.

Come to think of it, there was somethin’ off ’bout him.

The strangeness his instincts called attention to needled at him. Zelaide closed his eyes and concentrated on digging up the fading insignificant impression he had.

“You’re like one of the males of a sexually dimorphic species that develop ostentatious looks for the sole purpose of attracting females.”

The man had said that to Zelaide when he saw him during the dinner with Euphemia’s coworkers.

What he said wasn’t important; Zelaide was used to being held in contempt. Many humans openly disparaged Beast Bloods despite their fear. Or perhaps because of it. And, as a Beast Blood, Zelaide was closely attuned to their emotions. Even the haughtiest of clients exuded instinctual fear toward the Beast Blood they spoke down on. Men were especially fearful. They unknowingly discern what is stronger than them and are frightened by it.

But that man wasn’t scared of me. He even seemed to be intentionally provoking me. And thinking back, he said some strange things too…

Zelaide drew on his memory of their uncomfortable conversation.

“You are aware it will increase the number of hours you have to spend at work, yes? Will you be okay after that incident?”

“I don’t mind! You have my sincerest gratitude for your concern.”

Then Zelaide’s thoughts turned to something Euphemia told him recently.

“Director Burhardt is rumored as the most likely next president. He’s been so kind to a new researcher like me and has been extra considerate ever since I was first attacked by Vermi. Meanwhile President Murakami didn’t even say a word to me.”

She was referring to the attack that started it all. The incident when Vermi thugs nearly killed her in the Wilds. That was the night Zelaide and Euphemia met.

During their meal together, Zelaide disregarded the comment as Burhardt simply being worried about her, but on closer inspection, that incident was kept a highly confidential secret. Then again, he might have been informed since he was Euphemia’s direct superior.

This is just my instincts talking.

Zelaide reached out and grabbed an IHT. One with direct access to Erica. It was currently one in the afternoon, not the typical time he contacted the mayor. But the IHT only rang once before the other side picked up.

“Zelaide?” Erica’s voice was harder than usual.

“…Do you have a minute, Mayor?”

“Yes. I was just about to contact you myself.”

“What happened?!”

The tone of her voice told him the situation was dire. Nervous sweat coated his hands. He was ready to fly into action.

“…Please don’t jump the gun. I have no solid proof something has gone wrong yet. Please remain calm, Zelaide,” Erica requested, trying her best to keep her own voice level. “I have unfortunately kept some information from you. It’s not something we should discuss over the IHT. Do you remember the door you used to come to City Hall last time? There is a small member’s only bar located in the basement of the building right beside it. Can you come right away? I will tell you there.”

Zelaide bolted from the room without answering.

†††

CITY Hall’s symbolic spire came into view as Zelaide turned off Circle Line. He parked his car in the alleyway and found the building Erica mentioned. There was no sign outside the building, but the bar was located below. He slipped inside the inconspicuous door. Several customers were seated inside the long and narrow lounge.

A staff member immediately showed him to a small private room in the back. The door opened within seconds of his arrival. Erica stood on the opposite side. Unexpectedly, she was all alone despite the late hour. There was no mistaking it was her despite the uncharacteristic clothing style and dark specs she wore. She was breathing heavily.

“You alone?” Zelaide asked, surprised Erica came all this way alone. That was not something the ruler of a powerful city with a population of five million did.

“It’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure you noticed the guards stationed outside. All of the staff and customers inside are Guardians as well. But time is against us. Tell me what you contacted me for… What happened? Does it have to do with Euphemia? Or something else?” Erica asked several questions in a row before removing her jacket.

“There’s somethin’ that’s been bothering me to the point I had to ask. It has to do with the time Euphemia was first attacked by Vermi. Who else knows about it aside from us?” Zelaide asked.

“Murakami. I told him,” Erica answered without hesitation. None of the bar staff entered the room. There wasn’t even a glass of water placed on the table before them.

“…No one else should know. Not even Mrs. Mayo, the housekeeper I hired to keep an eye on Euphemia, was informed. Also, while the police know about the Vermi murder case, I did not tell them that Euphemia was attacked. My personal circumstances required me not to make Mia’s incident public. So the only people who know about it aside from you and Mia are me and Murakami. And Murakami is my most trusted confidant.”

“He’s a strange man, but…seems trustworthy,” Zelaide conceded.

“He is my right-hand man,” Erica stated with confidence.

“I see… If you say so, then it must be true. But that man knew.”

“What man?”

“Yumi’s direct boss. That Burhardt guy…”

“Burhardt? All right. I will let Murakami know.”

Erica was convinced without hearing his reasoning. She pulled out her IHT and quickly typed up a short message. Zelaide had never seen letters like the ones she used. It was a curious writing style that made use of a combination of different characters and symbols. A reply came within seconds. Erica lifted her gaze from the screen.

“Your hunch was correct, Zelaide. Murakami narrowed down the suspect to two people and was tracking their movement. But I just received word that he was finally able to parse data located deep within Burhardt’s personal IHT concerning Chude incubation.”

“The Chude!”

That was the name of that short, serpentine Muta. The very Muta that had wiggled its way into his house through a small opening in the window. Discovering information on how to remove one of those rare Muta from incubation on Burhardt’s IHT could mean only one thing.

He’s the culprit who released that snake into my house! Zelaide realized that his gut feeling was right again.

“It seems Murakami has suspected him for a while and monitored his activity. He hacked into his personal IHT, copied all the data off, and began analyzing it. It took him a long time to crack the code, but we now have solid proof. Burhardt is Biotech’s traitor. Murakami said he’s already on his way to Burhardt’s residence with a guard unit. Perhaps he has already captured him.”

Sweat beaded Erica’s brow. She didn’t realize Burhardt was the traitor until now either.

“Your turn to talk,” Zelaide prodded. “Where is Yumi—Euphemia?”

“…She went to Romanesque City to conduct an experiment with her gerbils. A certain person suggested it and I allowed it. It’s true that I wanted to let her move her research to the next stage so she could come one step closer to realizing her dream of eradicating Nightz, but…the real reason I allowed it was to lure the enemy into making a move on her. Mia knows nothing—nngh!” Erica gagged while she spoke. In that moment, she was certain the man sitting across from her was going to kill her with his bare hands.

Murderous intent exuded from the Beast Blood.

“I am sincerely sorry about keeping this quiet after asking you to protect her. But, while I cannot fill you in on the details, the state of this city has worsened greater than I imagined. The threat sent to us this afternoon hinted at a terrorist attack involving a large number of citizens. The enemy is about to enact their final plan. But this is the same enemy who has tried on multiple occasions to make contact with Euphemia. I decided to use that against them by sending her out into the open. We are facing a powerful political figure. I was positive they wouldn’t risk their standing in front of spectators to get to her. They know that I sent bodyguards to watch over her,” Erica rattled on, almost in defense of her actions.

“Where is Yumi?” asked a graveled voice through clenched teeth.

“I last heard from her just before seven. She went to see another researcher after her experiment was a success. After that, I received a short message from her IHT saying that she was going to delay her return until tomorrow morning. The original plan was for her to take the eight o’clock flight and arrive here within the hour. I haven’t heard anything from her since. All the guards I sent with her have gone silent.”

Romanesque City was about four hours from Gothic City by helicopter.

“I can only assume that someone sent that message on her IHT in order to buy time. I already sent a backup unit to Romanesque City. They will take action soon… I must apologize to you for breaching our contract,” Erica said weakly.

“…I doubt they will kill her,” she continued. “They will likely use her as a bargaining chip to make insane demands of me. They want to force me into a situation where my ability to look out for my own family and, by extension, this city, will be called into question. All in order to drag me out of my position as mayor.”

Zelaide wasn’t listening to her.

“…Who?” he growled. Who’s the ringleader?

“Senator Ziggurat Haydn,” Erica gave a perfunctory answer.

“…The guy who kept criticizin’ me…”

“That’s the one. He has had an unusual interest in Euphemia for a while now. He kept inviting her to his vacation home…”

It made sense why Euphemia’s actions had been leaked to the other side if Haydn was behind it. He didn’t have to risk exposure by planting a spy directly beside the cautious and shrewd mayor when he could freely walk the halls of City Hall. All he had to do was ask a leading question like “Oh, was that the mayor’s sister I just saw…?” and staff would provide him as much information as he sought. It was such a natural and trivial occurrence that they didn’t have to report it to Erica.

Every incident until now had been a part of his schemes.

“He has Yumi—”

“There hasn’t been any report or witnesses that he does,” Erica said quickly before Zelaide could jump to conclusions. “The emergency signal on the micro IHT I gave Ronaldo Garcia went off about an hour ago, but the weak signal died a minute later. I tracked the signal down to the tallest building in Romanesque City. It belongs to Haydn.”

“Garcia?”

Zelaide remembered the young man who worked with Euphemia. He skillfully hid his fear as he joked around with Zelaide. That was a typical human male’s attitude toward Beast Bloods. He was one of Erica’s minions.

Ziggurat Haydn, the influential Gothic City senator and owner of the world’s biggest conglomerate. And Kreutz Burhardt, Haydn’s lackey and Euphemia’s direct boss who worked behind the scenes to make all sorts of things go awry.

Those two men had been watching Zelaide and Euphemia from City Hall and the laboratory. They had shed their skin and were baring their poisonous fangs out in the open for the first time.

There was no time to waste.

Think. Think! What would I do if I was in their shoes?

They might not kill Euphemia. But that didn’t matter anymore. They had stolen Zelaide’s mate from him.

Zelaide’s pupils thinned into needles. Visibility narrowed and his breathing came shallow and fast.

“I’ll kill ’em.”

The rumbling in the back of his throat made audible sound. Turning whiter than a sheet, Erica stared at him.

“I’ll kill ya too if anything happens to her.” Zelaide’s voice came out harder than a gun barrel.

“That’s right. I even put my one and only little sister’s life on the line.” The color may have left her skin, but Erica’s voice didn’t falter. “Haydn is Gothic City’s media king, the CEO of one of this world’s leading conglomerates, a senator, and a likely contender for the next mayor. He is also the one responsible for distributing Nightz throughout the world. His reach is beginning to extend to the other colonies even… I needed unshakable evidence to corner him… Preferably catching him in the middle of a crime red-handed. I only recently became convinced it was him. But I couldn’t catch him no matter how I tried. He frequently visits Romanesque City, so I thought I might be able to uncover something there…which is why I sent Mia…”

“……”

Zelaide’s angry gaze silently sliced into the mayor. She was probably also imagining all the horrible possibilities that awaited her sister. Murderous rage bubbled inside him. But he shouldn’t direct that fury at Erica. His thoughts kept reminding his curling fists of that.

“You are infuriated…with me. But this was the only chance. I was informed that he was heading to Romanesque City for plausible business reasons. He must have approached Mia pretending their encounter was a coincidence. I also had eyes on Haydn, but I suddenly stopped hearing from them all at once.”

Tension pervaded the cramped room.

Erica’s IHT lit up as if to break through the intensity. It was a direct video message from Murakami. Erica tapped the back of her ear turning on the speaker implanted within and took the call. Shock instantly colored her dark eyes.

“Burhardt escaped! Murakami is seriously injured!” she cried.

“What?” Zelaide jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. Erica was still in the middle of her video call.

“…Yes… I understand. I will be right there.”

“What happened?!” he shouted, impatience coursing through him.

Erica sunk into the chair, broken. “…Murakami had the tides turned against him when he tried to launch a sneak attack on Burhardt. One of the Guardians with him was fatally wounded. Murakami also has severe injuries. Aahhh! I was naïve! Mia!” She covered her mouth and half-sobbed. It was the first time Erica cried.

“I’m going!” Zelaide bellowed. His teal eyes flashed silver.

“…Zelaide?”

“I’m gonna rescue her.”

Those were the words Erica would have given anything to hear. She lifted her face from her hands like a malfunctioning robot. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks drained of color.

“Zelaide…why do you go so far for her…?” she asked in a cracked voice.

“My contract isn’t up yet. That’s all,” the Beast Blood said, his face turned away from her.

“…All right. Zelaide Silvergray, I leave everything in your hands. Please protect Euphemia…my precious sister.”

“On it!”

Zelaide barreled into the dark city streets.

Yumi. Euphemia… Wilds take me! Let me get to her in time!

†††

A silver car sped down the night freeway like a bolt of lightning.

Only certain vehicles were granted permission to drive at this hour. Mostly tractor trailers loaded with large containers. The silver car darted into the darkness, slipping passed the trucks that moved as slow as they were large.

Thick shadows hung over the Wilds. How many hours had his foot pressed down the accelerator since parting with Erica?

Anger and sorrow bore down on him.

I said I’d protect her…

A wide-scale search was conducted throughout Gothic City, but Kreutz Burhardt’s whereabouts were as unknown as the deep forests of the Wilds. There wasn’t a single clue to go off. Worst yet, his apartment was practically empty. No pictures, memos, clothes, tableware, or anything else that revealed someone lived there. It seemed suspicious that was even his residence. There was no proof of his identity, no evidence of his past, and no fingerprints or even a strand of hair left behind.

“Chwirk?” Tipsy chirped from his perch in the back seat.

The tiny Muta swooped down when Zelaide hopped in his car and took advantage of his master’s haste to fly inside the car with him.

“Tip! Don’t fly! Stay seated!” Zelaide yelled.

The tiny winged Muta didn’t understand his words, but stayed perched, almost as if he sensed his master’s anger.

“The city! Yumi! Euphemia!” Zelaide shouted toward the mountains rising over the road ahead. The strong lights glaring below the mountains looked like a huge tomb. A large ring of light clung to the gently sloping hills.

Romanesque city.

Wait for me! I’ll find you…even if it kills me!

Zelaide stepped on the accelerator until the pedal hit the floor.