Thirty minutes had passed since the Indus vessel had been swallowed by the horizon, and at last, the harbor town sank back into silence.
That silence was soon broken by the rhythmic pounding of the Security Corps' boots against the cobblestones.
Dozens of officers, having arrived late, scattered about like wreckage left behind after a storm, fanning out to question bystanders and examine the scene.
Their brisk and methodical movements were so swift and precise they seemed almost mechanical.
On the hill above, inside the hospital, a middle-aged physician, with a greasy smile plastered on his face, was being questioned directly by Security Captain Saizō and his deputy, Kumashis.
"Man, I nearly lost it. A whole pack of thugs came pouring off that ship, and I was just about ready to beat them bloody—but they must've been scared of me, because they grabbed those kids and bolted."
Behind his glasses, Saizō fixed the physician with a piercing gaze and replied with cold precision.
"I see. And these 'kids' you mentioned—one was named Lamia, and the other was a boy called Endi, who was with her, correct?"
"Yeah, that's them."
The doctor recounted the previous night's events:
How Endi had rushed into the hospital, Lamia on his back, both of them drenched in blood and sweat.
How, the next morning, the two had spoken quietly while gazing out at the sea, before setting off toward the harbor.
His storytelling had the air of a minstrel reciting some ancient tale, yet in his eyes glimmered the hunger of a hyena scenting profit. He was, to the core, a money-grubbing miser.
"And this Endi—who exactly is he? From what we can tell, he isn't a resident of this town."
"Hell if I know. But listen, Captain, I just handed you some prime information here. What about my reward?"
Saizō spared only a brief, icy glance at the doctor's avaricious face before cutting him off.
"Is that so. Thank you for your time. Your cooperation has been noted. Good day."
The physician's lips twisted into a sour grimace, as though he had bitten into rotten fruit, once he realized no gold would be forthcoming.
Leaving the hospital, Saizō and Kumashis strolled down the greenway.
Saizō, with his neatly parted black hair and glasses, looked every bit the image of a serious and upright young man.
Kumashis, by contrast, radiated fatigue; the heavy bags beneath his eyes and his pageboy haircut only accentuated his nervy disposition.
"Still… it's strange. Why did they take not only Lamia, but also that boy with her?"
"Doesn't matter. I just want to go home and sleep."
"You realize you said that out loud, right?"
"Ah—m-my apologies, Captain! It slipped out."
Kumashis slapped a hand over his mouth in panic, while Saizō cast him a look of weary exasperation.
Their footsteps mingled with the whispers of the trees, as if the very earth of this remote port town was keeping its secrets beneath their heels.
"To think such a large-scale search was launched merely for a serving girl… And yet, the Old Doar Army's involvement explains everything."
"Indeed. And that giant who came to town… it must have been Darmaine. I never imagined he had survived."
Kumashis gnawed at his thumbnail, a nervous tic that made him resemble some small animal chewing away its anxiety.
Saizō's voice rang with iron resolve.
"This is beyond what we can handle alone. We'll request military cooperation. You, arrange the largest ship you can procure. Once preparations are complete, we set off at once to pursue the Indus."
"Chasing them down? Seriously, what a pain! Go by yourself!"
"You… this habit of voicing your inner thoughts needs to stop."
Realizing again his slip, Kumashis flailed in embarrassment, while Saizō's expression carried the resigned patience of a man long accustomed to an old friend's bad habits.
Meanwhile, the Indus vessel was being devoured by the storm's roar, plunging forward into the raging sea.
The ship pitched and heaved like the back of some colossal beast, while the thunder above roared as if echoing its cries.
Lamia had been locked in the ship's largest chamber, alone with Darmaine.
The twenty-mat room contained only a dining table, four chairs, and a three-seater sofa, resembling some forgotten hall of a noble fallen into decay.
Outside the windows, the storm bared its fangs, and the ship's creaking timbers played a sinister melody.
Lamia curled into the sofa, while Darmaine lounged at the table, nursing a glass of whiskey, eyes fixed on her.
Those eyes were like a hawk's, appraising its prey.
"Relax, kid. Storms like this are just another Tuesday for sailors. This tub ain't sinking anytime soon. Hungry? Want something to eat?"
Lamia gave no reply. Her heart had sunk deeper into shadow than even the storm-lashed sea.
"Che. Sour little brat."
Darmaine's words rasped with irritation, like rusted blades scraping stone.
At the same time, Endi had been thrown into a solitary cell in the ship's depths, no larger than five tatami mats.
A prison without light, without windows or even a latrine—its walls crawling with moss and dust.
It was a tomb, abandoned at the edge of the world.
Outside the bars, one of the soldiers who had raided the port town stood guard, drunken and red-faced.
Endi lay still. Asleep—or perhaps unconscious.
His mind drifted in a strange dream.
A mountain village engulfed in flames. Countless houses burning scarlet against the midnight dark.
Men, women, and children scattering in terror, while coarse laughter split the night.
Five men in black garments stood like envoys of death.
And there was a man—the "master of the dream"—whose chest burned with furious wrath.
But who was this man? Was the fury his own… or Endi's?
Suddenly, the five figures turned and charged the dream's master.
At the instant tension peaked, Endi awoke.
That fury clung to him still, and from his body erupted a gale fiercer than the one that had felled the soldiers in the port town.
The storm wind smashed apart the cell's walls, shattered the iron bars, and tore a gaping hole into the sea beyond.
And through that hole, Endi himself was hurled into the raging ocean.
Salt water stabbed into his wounds. No time remained to ponder the dream's meaning. The storm tossed him mercilessly as he struggled to stay afloat.
The drunken guard, jarred awake by the thunderous collapse, staggered to investigate.
Through the hole, seawater came surging in, and with a shriek he fled upstairs.
"What's going on down here!?"
Darmaine, racing down the stairs, nearly collided with the panicked guard.
"Admiral, it's dangerous! A hole just opened in the wall, and seawater's flooding in! We need repairs immediately!"
"What!? You reek of booze, damn you! What about Endi!?"
"I checked the cell—he's gone! Must've escaped into the sea!"
"You useless bastard! Then go after him—swim if you have to!"
"Sir, in this storm!? That's suicide!"
Grinding his fury down, Darmaine lit a cigarette, forcing calm.
"Damn it… If I'd delivered not only Lamia but that brat too, I'd have been showered with glory…"
He slammed his fist into the wall, his face twisted in bitter rage.
As for Endi, he tried to pursue the Indus ship—but he could not even keep himself afloat.
The raging sea swallowed him whole, and consciousness fled.
The ocean seized him without mercy, dragging him down into its abyss of darkness.