RUNORATA FAMILY

On the outskirts of Newark, New Jersey

“And so?”

Under a bright, cold, clear blue sky, an elderly man stood alone on the grass.

There was a young man behind him. He’d been Gustavo’s subordinate and had delivered constant reports on the situation.

“Sir. By some miracle, Gustavo is alive. We don’t know what sort of weapon was used, but it seems to have missed his carotid artery. The bullets left in his body were fired by the staff in self-defense. They seem to have decided that the wound to his throat was self-inflicted while he was out of his mind.”

In response to the words from Bartolo—his true boss—the man made his report without showing the slightest nervousness.

He seemed like an entirely different person from the guy who’d cowered in front of Gustavo.

“In addition, the police seem to have begun to consider him a suspect in the Genoard murders, and we think it’s only a matter of time before he’s arrested. The groundwork has already been laid. We’ve made arrangements with the politicos, and they won’t touch any of us beyond Gustavo.”

“I see.”

Giving a small nod, Bartolo looked up at the sky and murmured, as if he were talking to himself.

“Well, I suppose you could say he was lucky.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“We’ve had requests from other councils to hand him over for a while now. The guy did flashy things in the past. The others probably wanted to settle the score.”

He stated the bottom line in an indifferent tone, as if he were talking about the economy.

“If he’d gotten the Gandors’ territory, that would have been fine. We would have put an end to the matter by handing that territory over to Manhattan’s Five Families.”

“And if he’d failed, you would have given them Gustavo…?”

“As it turns out, he did fail, but if they put him in the clink, the other fellas won’t be able to get at him easily. As far as he’s concerned, it was a lucky break. That said, to compensate, I’ll have to part with some of my profits.”

Pausing for a moment, Bartolo gave an unamused smile and grumbled mildly to his underling.

“This is quite an age we’re living in. You need the approval of councils or the Commission just to bump off a man who’s sold you out or to get revenge for a follower.”

Since Luciano’s blood-soaked revolution, the mafia world had undergone a rapid transformation into a modern organization. Connections with politicians had grown stronger, and their excessively antagonistic relationships with Jewish and Irish gangs had cooled down.

The Runorata Family was continuing its operations a step removed from those waves of modernization. That said, they weren’t fighting them. Like the other syndicates, they’d chosen coexistence, and Bartolo had enough clout to force that whim through.

“Lucky Luciano’s a guy with power. However, he doesn’t personally rule as the head of the organization. Instead, he created a council, just like a politician. See, he knew if he said he was the guy at the top, he’d be setting himself up as the next target. Even so, everybody acknowledges him as the boss. Well, at the very least, it’ll be his age for a while now.”

Bartolo abruptly turned to look at his subordinate, and a hint of emotion stole into his expression. “It may be a rough age for us and the Gandor men, though. I’m looking forward to seeing how high we can go.”

When he heard those words, the subordinate looked surprised. “Then, the Gandors…”

“Establish a nonaggression pact with them. From here on out, we’ll treat them as equals, whether we become enemies or decide to coexist.”

“Even if they’ve got a contract with Vino, an outfit that size couldn’t—”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

His cold expression returned in an instant, and from behind his glasses, Bartolo scrutinized the man’s face quietly.

“In our world, it’s either one or zero. It’s a straight choice between two things: Either they’re an enemy on equal terms, or they don’t even exist. There’s no such thing as lower rank. Never think of the other guy as being less than yourselves. The second you do, they’ll start to trip you up… When it came to that, Gustavo thought the same way. However, I see them as ones, and he saw them as zeroes. We differed there.”

Bartolo lightly raised a hand in the direction of his mansion.

He’d seen his grandchild, who was still very young, running toward him.

“By the time my grandkid’s grown, what will the Gandors be, enemies or neighbors? I’m looking forward to finding that out, too.”

As he stepped forward, to finish up, he stated his impression of the man who’d negotiated with him:

“Keith Gandor, hmm? He was a real resolute guy; quite eloquent.”

GANDOR FAMILY

January 5, 1932

Kachak.

Quietly, Keith hung the receiver back up on the wall. Then he pulled on his coat and began getting ready to leave. He was headed home for the first time in about a week, and there was a faint suggestion of a good mood about him.

“How’s Kate?” Berga asked. “Doing good?”

At the teasing, which was delivered with a grin, Keith gave a small nod and left the room.

Keith talks a lot, as long as he’s on the phone…

Whether or not he knew what Berga was thinking, Keith was as reticent as ever… Or maybe he just didn’t want to take the time to say anything.

In the Gandor Family office, their daily routine had resumed, and in the midst of it, only Luck looked gloomy. He was leaning back into the sofa.

“No drive…”

True, when they’d been working to isolate Gustavo, he’d said they wouldn’t turn away anyone who joined them.

He’d said it… But.

“Don’t do that, amigo! You can’t use scissors to cook!”

“Aww… But it tastes really good. By the way, what does amigo mean?”

“It means ‘friend.’”

“Yay! I’ve never had a girl call me her friend before!”

In the office’s kitchen, Tick and the Mexican girl were having a carefree conversation.

It was the first time anyone from Mexico had ever come to the office, and his men kept asking him questions, looking dubious.

“Um, Mr. Luck. That doll. What’s…?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But…”

“Even if it bothers you, pretend you don’t care, please.”

“…Yessir.”

The men reluctantly withdrew. Watching them out of the corner of his eye, Luck sighed again.

Keith’s at fault here, too. We already have Tick; we don’t need anyone else that odd. And besides, she cut my arm off.

Well, that wasn’t terrible. If he thought of it in terms of having gained another skilled member, he could probably put up with it.

Claire had also grumbled, “I got way more exercise on the train…” and wandered off somewhere. He’d probably gone looking for the person he was planning to marry. As always, the guy was self-centered.

However, the most self-centered, most apathetic person anywhere… That was definitely Luck himself.

Gazing up into space, Luck Gandor recalled what had happened after the incident.

“Miss! Ohh, miss! I’m terribly sorry! You ended up in such a perilous situation, and all through my sheer incompetence!”

Eve hadn’t even been given time to apologize before apologies were heaped on her.

“Benjamin, Samantha, I…I—”

Smacking her very lightly on the head, Samantha smiled at her. “You thinkin’ you done wrong, don’tcha? Then it’s all gravy.”

As Eve was leaving, Luck, who’d woken up, approached her.

“Oh…” She was at a loss for words. This was the man who’d said such self-centered things and had been about to do such selfish deeds, and yet he’d saved her, even so. Her brother’s enemy.

If she’d fired the gun as she’d intended, she would probably never have been able to see Benjamin and Samantha again. This man had saved her again and again in that room, and in the end, she hadn’t been able to thank him even once.

Because in her heart, she wanted to rescue Dallas.

What expression could she possibly wear when she addressed a man like that?

But then he spoke to her, handing her a scrap of paper.

“When you think my pain is gone, pull him up or do anything you like. I leave that decision to you.”

That was all the young man with the vulpine eyes said before he turned to go.

The scrap of paper had a detailed map, with a mark over a spot in the river.

“Um! Mr. Luck!”

Thrusting a palm out toward Eve, he cut her off.

“Don’t say anything, please. Abuse or thanks, it will only irritate me.”

Then he left. As she watched him go, Eve quietly hugged the paper to her heart.

If his brothers found out he’d said a thing like that, they’d send him to sleep with the fishes.

More importantly, what excuse could he give his dead comrades?

Firo would probably say, If they’re dead, who says you need to excuse yourself to them at all? without a blush. On that point, he was far more hard-boiled than Luck.

That wouldn’t do, though. It was a common belief that anyone who ended up in this business was prepared to die. However, reality wasn’t like the books or the movies: Nobody wanted to die. When it came to that, they were no different from ordinary humans.

If there was any difference at all, it was just one thing: They were villains. That was all.

That’s right. We are villains.

He certainly hadn’t forgiven Dallas and the others, and Eve hadn’t softened his heart.

What he’d done had been nothing more than one of the calculations he was so good at.

In the end, it isn’t possible. Even if they know their location, they won’t be able to pull them up.

They’d sunk Dallas’s group in a particularly deep spot in the nearby river. If they dredged the riverbed with a crane, they might manage somehow, but as an individual, Eve probably didn’t have the power to make that happen.

All he’d done was give the girl a token consolation. As long as he told her the place, she probably wouldn’t approach him and the others again. She also wouldn’t have any reason to hold a pointless grudge. Regardless, Dallas and the other ruffians would no doubt continue to suffer.

Everything went according to plan. There’s nothing to feel gloomy about.

Even as he thought this, Luck couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he’d lost his drive.

If he’d never intended to let her save Dallas, he could simply have given her a map with a false location. Even if it was only a slight chance, why had he given her any chance to save that man and his cronies? The mere question of why he hadn’t lied to Eve kept nagging at his heart.

As Claire had said, maybe he wasn’t cut out for this business. Still, his hands were far too dirty to let him quit this late. Besides, protecting this territory was both their mission and their duty. And more than anything, they felt a sort of family pride in the business.

Conversely, that was all it was.

That might have been the whole of the world that had been given to him.

Maybe…

Luck remembered the girl’s face, before and after she’d confronted Gustavo. His eyes couldn’t look the way hers had anymore. Her gaze had been filled with a certain determination, a willingness to sacrifice herself for the world she believed in.

Maybe I was jealous. Jealous of the fierce, violent emotions that filled that child. That’s something I’ll probably never have again.

…Because I doubt I’ll ever be able to “prepare to die” again. Never, not for all eternity.

With these thoughts on his mind, Luck decided to quietly lose himself in reading.

THE WEALTHY

“C’mon, let’s do it again, say, tomorrow.”

“This time you help, too, Firo!”

There were several liquor barrels in Alveare. At the moment, instead of liquor, they were packed with a vast quantity of domino tiles. That said, the barrels had been empty to begin with; the Martillos kept them around in case of a police raid.

Seated on top of those barrels, Isaac and Miria were speaking loudly, swinging their legs.

“No,” Firo tossed off, briefly. Then, sighing, he asked the pair a question. “Look, lemme ask you one more time… What’s so fun about that? You spend hours and hours setting those up, and then you shoot it all to hell in just a few minutes.”

In response, Isaac and Miria grinned like children:

“But it was fun to watch, right?”

“Yes, it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“……Yeah, I guess.”

Firo agreed with them on that point. Although he’d razzed it to pieces as he watched, once the dominos had started to fall, he’d been so fascinated by the motion of the tiles that he’d forgotten about his empty stomach.

“Well, that’s what’s fun about it! When we knock down the tiles we set up, we have fun, of course…”

“And if the people watching have fun, too, that’s two birds with one stone!”

“In other words, we make out like bandits!”

“Yes, we have fun, and everybody watching it has fun, and then the whole town’s happy!”

As he watched the two, who looked genuinely and thoroughly delighted, Firo smiled, half in surrender.

“You’re right… When you think about it that way, it might just be the perfect game for you guys.”

It’s a whole lot like your lives, too.

That was what Firo thought, but he didn’t bother saying it aloud.

The way they live, they’re like a giant domino “main line.” They coast along at breakneck speed, knocking down branches of tiles through all sorts of gimmicks. These two affect other people’s lives all the time, the way they did with Ennis and me… Even though, as far as they’re concerned, they’re just barreling along any way they please.

“Fine. Next time you do it, I’ll help you out… Unless I’ve got something better to do.”

“Yesss! Now you’re a fellow dominer, too, Firo!”

“Or maybe a dominist! Which do you like better?”

“…Would you please tell me the difference between those things?”

Firo groaned and held his head.

If more and more people began to act like these two, they’d probably have world peace before anyone knew what was happening. However, no matter how many people they might influence, he doubted there was anyone eccentric enough to want to be like them.

Maybe I’m overthinking that.

Smiling wryly at his delusions, Firo scooped a handful of tiles out of the barrel.

In her second residence on Millionaires’ Row, Eve sat quietly at the dinner table, head bowed.

She was lost in thought, squeezing the little scrap of paper, remembering her brother and Luck.

If I rescue Dallas like this, will I have done the right thing in the end?

This was something she’d yearned for, so why was her resolution wavering?

She thought she might have hurt that man very badly with her selfish wish. However, there was no way she could stop wanting to save her brother.

What should I do? What should I have done? I…I—

“You look a bit down. Here, have something to eat and cheer up.”

When she looked toward the cheerful voice, she saw that Fang, the Asian cook, had just brought out the night’s meal.

“I don’t know what you’re worrying about, but for now, eat up. The only time people can be unconditionally happy is when they’re eating good food.”

“Quit with the bromides. That’s irresponsible.”

Beside him, Jon delivered a curt comeback.

At first, Eve hadn’t been hungry, but drawn by the aroma, she brought some of the food to her mouth.

“—It’s delicious. It’s just as good as what Kate made!”

“Who is this Kate person?”

Ignoring Fang, who looked mystified, the butler and Samantha watched the scene happily.

Eve had been blue since the incident, but now she was smiling again, and they were as pleased as if her mood had been their own.

Seeing them, Eve was reminded of just how fortunate her circumstances were. However, it was also true that neither her father nor her brothers were here. There was no point in grieving for people who were gone… But Dallas was definitely still alive.

As she ate, Eve kept thinking about what she should do.

What could she do, personally? What could she do so that everyone—Dallas and Luck and the Gandor members—would be happy?

I was only thinking about my own happiness, wasn’t I…?

When she’d thought that far, she resolved to rescue Dallas as soon as possible.

If there was nothing for it but to keep thinking, at the very least, she wanted to start working on what she could do now.

Of course. I’ll…I’ll try to be like those two.

Just like the two burglars who’d brought her that temporary happiness, she’d think, and keep on thinking, about what she could do for everyone else. Then, when she decided to act, she wouldn’t hesitate. She’d try to make sure that happiness—her own or other people’s—didn’t slip through her fingers again.

As she remembered the pair of thieves, she banished the hesitation from her heart.

Resolved, Eve squeezed the scrap of paper to her chest, tightly, ever so tightly.

BEGG

August 2002     Somewhere in New Jersey

“Begg.”

Maiza called the man’s name for the first time in several decades, but there was no response. Begg only stayed where he was, curled up in the corner of a room in a certain hospital. He was muttering something to himself, and he showed no interest in anything else.

“They say that’s how he’s been for decades… I hear he’s been like that ever since Mr. Bartolo Runorata died of old age, about thirty years back. Do you know him? He was, uh, a famous mafia don in these parts.”

“I knew of him, yes.”

Bartolo Runorata. Maiza had never met him personally, but he was famous among people in his profession. He had been Begg’s boss, and the one person Begg had trusted, aside from his old companions.

The last time Maiza had seen Begg, Bartolo had still ruled his syndicate.

He didn’t know what had happened, but after a certain point, Begg had completely lost his spirit. He’d simply gone on compounding drugs in accordance with Bartolo’s instructions, with an expression that made him look as if he had no hope left.

His loyalty to his master had seemed to be his one refuge, and Maiza had worried about what would happen to him after Bartolo died, but…

“Begg. Do you remember me?”

He spoke to him again, but Begg didn’t even look his way.

The nurse was watching Maiza as if he interested him greatly, but Maiza asked him a question without seeming to care.

“How are his hospital expenses being dealt with?”

“Government-run charity. Well, we’ve gotten real generous donations from the acting head of the Genoard family for generations. We’re guaranteed the minimum necessary environment for drug treatment and the like.”

“Is that right…?”

Without asking anything else in particular, his eyes returned to the man in the room.

“And anyway, he’s like that all the time. No matter what we do, he doesn’t respond… By the way, how do you know this patient?”

“He’s an old friend.”

“……”

The nurse didn’t say anything. This man, who only seemed to be thirty or so, had called himself a friend of a man who’d survived for decades without eating. They’d been warned by the FBI not to interfere with this patient. Who on earth was this guy?

The question had been bothering the nurse for ages, but he didn’t ask it.

Even when Maiza entered the room, Begg showed no reaction.

“These days, there are drugs in circulation that are far more impressive than what you made. Drugs that bring people happiness, and drugs that bring them misfortune.”

Remembering that earlier time, Maiza sat down beside Begg.

“There are substances in urban back alleys whose effects and side effects are dozens of times greater than those of the narcotics you compounded. It’s incredible how many people use those substances in the full knowledge that nearly eighty percent of them will die… Humans truly are beings beyond imagining.”

He went on to speak to him about a variety of other things, but no light appeared in the man’s eyes.

“Begg…”

Slowly, Maiza lifted his right hand, then placed it on Begg’s forehead.

If he was just going to spend eternity wandering in darkness this way, wouldn’t it be better to—?

The moment that doubt reared its head, he caught a familiar name in the man’s mutterings.

“…Czes, over there…ship’s hold…see…take a look…on this ship…to America…”

When he heard those fragmented words, Maiza quietly lowered his right hand.

Right now, Begg had returned to a time when he was happy. It was a conversation from when he and a child who’d been on the ship with him had gone exploring.

“I’ll come again.”

As Maiza quietly made to leave, Begg murmured in a voice that was suddenly clear:

“Maiza, thank you…for…not…eating…me.”

The nurse looked up, startled, but Begg did nothing else.

As if I could possibly get angry…

Pulling his hat low on his head, Maiza left the hospital.

“How was he?”

Outside, a boy who looked about ten years old had waited for him.

“He’s all right. He seems a little tired, but he’ll recover someday.”

As he spoke, Maiza got behind the wheel of a passenger car.

“Someday, for sure…”

Without saying anything else, Maiza let the boy into the car, then drove away.

For the first time in decades, they were headed back to New York.

DOPE ADDICT

One day in January, 1932

Ahhhh, this feels great. Absolute tops.

…But I get the feeling there’s something else.

Something’s missing. What could it be…? It feels like I’ve gotta remember.

Everything’s here. It’s all here, inside my brain.

Everything’s melting together right before my eyes. Ah, the sky and the ground and the forest and the town and the day and the night are all melting together messily. Is this reality, in the end? My fingers are melting, too; my arms, my legs, my hips, my stomach, my chest, my bones, my heart… They’re melting, blending with everything around me. I’m enfolding everything I see. The world itself has gotten inside me.

My eyeballs have started to melt. Ohh, I can see everywhere, from everything in the world.

But then, for the first time, I start to wonder what this world is shaped like.

I remove my half-melted eyeballs from the world and try looking in from the outside.

At last, I’ve completely merged with the world. In other words, the world is me.

At that point, I finally realize what it is the world doesn’t have.

Except for me, there’s nobody here.

“………y, Roy……”

Somebody’s calling me.

Who is it? It doesn’t matter who; I’ve got to see them. I’m here, I’m right here. The world of my body has started to crumble. It’s turned into tens of thousands of hands, and they’re coming after me, trying to grab my eyeballs. Knock it off; don’t engulf me. Oh, the voice—the voice is getting farther away. Stop it, stopstopstopstopstop Would you cut it the hell out, you pile of crap?!

“Roy…… Roy……”

My body’s been thrown to the bottom of a deep ocean. Forget chaos, it’s a pitch-black world, and there’s absolutely nothing around me. I’ve gotta get to the surface fast. I’ll drown. The closer I get to the light at the surface, the brighter the world gets. The sky and the ground and the people and the town and the day and the night all appear in the shapes I remember. The light illuminates my memories, making them clearer and clearer, and my mind desperately crawls upward, clawing through the water, toward the surface, toward that voice.

“Roy!”

Then my body finally reaches the surface.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a place that looked like a hospital room.

“Oh, thank God! You’re awake, aren’t you?!”

“Edith…”

When I looked around, I recognized the hospital. It was Fred’s hospital, in the East Village. They brought me here before, when I hurt my neck real bad. I’d heard he was away traveling and that the place was closed, but I guess it opened up again at some point.

An old guy who stank like liquor and another guy with bandages wrapped around his legs and face were in the beds on either side of me.

“I see he’s come to.”

The doctor, who was dressed all in gray, spoke to us. Yeah, that’s Fred for sure. There was a guy who looked like an assistant beside him; I wondered when he’d hired somebody like that.

“You come here every time you use any sort of drug. We don’t handle drug addictions as a rule, but in your case, you’re always badly injured.”

Then, making the man who seemed to be his assistant bring the implements over, he began to examine my bandaged right arm.

He didn’t reproach me or lecture me about having messed with drugs, and when the treatment was over, he left the room right away. This doctor’s always like that.

When I happened to look to the side, Edith was watching me like she wanted to say something.

“Thanks, Edith. That was seriously all my fault.” I decided to apologize first, before she called me an idiot.

I’m completely pathetic. I bet she calls me an idiot again.

“I’m so glad… When you didn’t wake up, I didn’t know what I was going to do…”

She didn’t call me an idiot. It felt weird.

Neither of us knew what to say to the other, and silence flowed between us. Breaking it, Edith raised her voice, as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh… That’s right, of course. About that truck.”

Truck? …Oh, I remember. She probably means the truck I stole and used to ram the Runorata carriers’ car. Right: Either way, I’ll be going to the cops after this. What do I do…?

I started to feel like something was squeezing my belly. Still, it’s a fact that I did it. I’d have to suck it up and turn myself in.

At that, Edith smiled brightly and said something weird:

“Listen, you don’t have to worry. It’s all taken care of.”

“Huh?”

“The Gandors intervened and paid the owner for the truck and everything. In other words, they negotiated an out-of-court settlement, without going through the police.”

“An out-of-court… I don’t have that kinda money…”

The next instant, Edith said something straight-up crazy.

“With borrowed money, of course. From the Gandors… You borrowed it.”

“Huh? Uh? Wha—?”

“The interest is something awful, but if you buckle down and work hard, you’ll be able to pay it all back someday. The Gandors’ loan sharks are famous for being better than some!”

When Edith had gotten that far, she smiled quietly and stroked my cheek.

“You need to pay for the crimes you committed. I’m the guarantor, so I’ll be able to help you a little. The Gandors say they’ll point you toward a job, too, so let’s pay it back, bit by bit. Oh, and don’t forget to go apologize to the truck’s owner.”

They got me.

Just when I thought I’d escaped the Runorata Grim Reapers, the Gandor hyenas got me by the throat. I couldn’t run now, and if I did any more drugs, the Gandors would probably ice me on the spot. Hard work: That was the only way out of this.

From the way Edith looked, she knew all that. It felt like she had me right in the palm of her hand. I had a hunch that from now on, I wouldn’t be able to defy Edith for as long as I lived… But even that was fine. For now, I could let myself think that way. Just for now.

…Still, something was off. It felt like something was missing.

Am I still in the dream? Have I not woken up yet?

I looked at Edith, meaning to say something, and then, for the first time, I realized she was different from before.

“Is your hair a little shorter?”

“It took you long enough to notice—idiot.”

When I heard that word, I was finally sure I was awake.

“It looks good. Yeah, it looks really good on you.”

Somehow, I felt kinda happy.