Life in the City proceeded in orderly calm. Yesterday's fierce battle between Don Quixote and Hai remained completely unknown to the general public. The few residents near the building had felt slight tremors, but Hana Association Fixers had swiftly brushed these off as minor earthquakes.
Meanwhile, the Hana Association carefully relocated nearby residents away from Don Quixote's building to facilitate the ongoing duels.
The second day quickly arrived. At noon, Don Quixote sat atop his throne, crafted entirely from hardened blood, chin resting on clasped hands.
The hunger for blood emanating from nearby Bloodfiends was minimal—apparently, there weren't many around.
Yet more than anything else, Don Quixote found himself preoccupied with thoughts of the self-proclaimed "Fixer" from yesterday.
Would he really return today?
I clearly saw him die yesterday; it's impossible for him to come again…
Lost in these thoughts, boredom slowly crept into Don Quixote's heart.
Sigh… what a shame. He was at least somewhat entertaining. If he doesn't come soon, perhaps I should simply leave…
Left alone, Don Quixote naturally felt bored—boredom born from loneliness.
Yesterday's Fixer had certainly piqued his curiosity, though he seemed overly rigid, bound by all those strange Fixer rules… Then again, perhaps it was exactly those rules that made him intriguing.
Just as Don Quixote was pondering this, a sudden knock echoed through the room. He jerked his head up sharply, momentarily stunned, only to see a familiar figure stepping inside.
The young man with blue hair and brown eyes, clad in a long white coat, walked calmly into the room. Seeing Don Quixote and the throne of blood, he chuckled lightly.
"It seems you've put my blood to good use."
"You… you're still alive?"
Don Quixote abruptly stood, shock evident in his voice. Hai merely smiled faintly.
Of course—I just crafted a new body.
Fortunately, the [Identity Card] was capable of replicating his appearance precisely, and the carefully selected embryo ensured minimal visible differences. At a glance, today's Hai was essentially identical to yesterday's.
"Well, shall we continue our unfinished duel?"
"You Fixers really have endless rules."
The corners of Don Quixote's mouth twisted into a smile. He summoned his spear of hardened blood again, and instantly they clashed once more.
This time, Hai clearly felt Don Quixote's increased strength. Having partially recovered from his weakness, yesterday's six-hour stalemate would be impossible today.
Yet Hai showed no sign of worry.
Because he could feel that his plan was progressing perfectly.
After four hours of fierce fighting, Hai predictably fell again to Don Quixote. Yet, as before, he delivered the same words:
"Tomorrow… The duel isn't over yet."
"…Are all Fixers this stubborn, or just you?"
"Every Fixer's story is unique… Besides, as long as I haven't truly lost, the duel continues."
With those final words, Hai's eyes grew dim, and he went silent, just as before.
Don Quixote gazed down at Hai's corpse. For some reason, he didn't immediately drink his blood.
Instead, he appeared contemplative.
He found himself oddly curious—what would Hai say tomorrow before dying?
...
Another day quickly passed.
At the same time and place, Hai boldly kicked open the door. Without a single word, the two immediately began to fight.
This time, the battle ended even sooner. Don Quixote unleashed his full strength right from the start, eager to finish quickly. Within two hours, Hai fell again under relentless assault. But instead of puncturing his artery immediately, Don Quixote deliberately inflicted a slower, fatal wound, crouching thoughtfully beside him, prolonging Hai's final moments.
"…Trying to get something out of me?"
Seeing this, Hai realized what was happening and asked faintly.
Don Quixote nodded seriously.
"Tell me, how do you keep coming back? I'm certain I've killed you each time…"
"That's what you're curious about? All I can say is… it's a special circumstance. I can't reveal it."
"Heh… I suppose I should have guessed. Alright, I'll ask something else."
After a moment's thought, unwilling to waste the opportunity, Don Quixote posed another question:
"Tell me, what exactly is a Fixer?"
Hai fell silent briefly, then slowly replied:
"A Fixer, huh… perhaps you'll understand better if I tell you some individual stories first, then the larger picture."
Don Quixote eagerly settled back onto his blood throne and gestured impatiently for Hai to continue.
Thus, Hai began narrating the tales from knightly novels, substituting knights for Fixers, portraying them as legendary Fixers from an ancient City long vanished into history.
Yet without realizing it, Don Quixote was completely absorbed.
The tale of a Fixer who drew a legendary sword from a stone, journeyed across perilous lands, slaying countless monsters… somehow captured his attention deeply.
Especially when the protagonist stood unwaveringly against an unbeatable foe to shield his companions, Don Quixote unconsciously clenched his fists in anticipation.
"And with no hesitation, he charged the hundred-handed giant, lance poised…"
At that climactic moment, Hai's voice weakened abruptly, then fell completely silent.
Don Quixote froze in shock, immediately glancing at Hai—whose eyes had already lost all light. His pupils dilated in disbelief.
Wait! How can you die now!?
What happens next? How does the story end?!
...
Another day passed.
When Hai entered the room, Don Quixote rushed up anxiously, demanding to know how the story continued.
Hai simply shook his head solemnly, insisting the duel was not yet concluded, and stories had to wait until afterward.
Grudgingly, Don Quixote resumed the duel. Upon victory, instead of injuring Hai immediately, he demanded impatiently that he finish the story.
Hai spoke at length, concluding the unfinished tale. Prompted by Don Quixote's eager insistence, Hai started yet another story—but abruptly stopped, refusing to go further, maintaining the duel was still ongoing.
Frustrated, Don Quixote reluctantly killed Hai again, impatiently awaiting tomorrow.
Day after day, duels continued, and Don Quixote found himself increasingly enthralled by these Fixer stories—thanks largely to Hai's expert cliffhangers.
Gradually, Don Quixote realized Hai told stories for a fixed duration each day. In response, he began deliberately holding back his strength, ensuring duels ended swiftly as "draws," immediately urging Hai to continue yesterday's tale.
In this way, Don Quixote listened eagerly to one Fixer's story after another. Yet his curiosity remained unsatisfied—after all, he had never left this room, never experienced the Fixers' world firsthand.
He listened eagerly, day after day, always anticipating Hai's return.
Eventually, he outright declared Hai the winner of their duels, purely to speed up the storytelling. After numerous victories, his bloodthirst had substantially waned; now, these daily stories were far more interesting anyway.
In fact, to some extent, he'd begun viewing Hai—the only Fixer he'd ever encountered—as something akin to a friend.
On this particular day, Hai again visited Don Quixote's chamber, delivering yet another Fixer story—the seventeenth by now. After finishing today's tale, Don Quixote reclined thoughtfully on his throne, savoring the story's lingering echoes.
Hai wasn't in any rush, quietly tidying his gear nearby. Suddenly, Don Quixote sat upright, his voice filled with excitement as he called out:
"Hey! Hai! Listen—I have an idea!"
"I've heard plenty of your stories… didn't you say you're the president of that Fixer Association thing?"
"How about I become a Fixer myself?!"