Satan's Proposal (4)
Fermi and Seriel left the square and ducked into a tavern on the market side.
As he opened the door, Fermi asked, "You okay with this?"
"Afraid you won't be able to drink? Hurry up and come in. I'm starving." It was early for dinner, but skipping lunch had left her famished.
"Let's just grab something quick."
They sat down and Seriel placed the order.
About an hour later, with alcohol on empty stomachs, both of them were a little flushed.
They weren't close, but as members of the same graduating class their conversation never really dried up.
"It's always hard, isn't it."
Seriel propped her chin on the table and watched the evening street through the window. "The worst part is, once you get used to the graduation-class routine, you don't even realize what's hard anymore. You have to find your weaknesses to grow, but you don't see any results."
"You're getting steadily better. One day you'll look back and see how much you've grown. Trust the veteran of the graduation class." The veteran's words brightened Seriel's face for a moment, but the warmth faded quickly.
'The graduation-exam broker.'
Why would someone with the skill to graduate whenever they wanted still be hanging around school?
'Should I ask?'
Fermi gave a little smirk. "You look like you have something to say. Say it."
Honestly, the time wasn't bad; talking about the graduation class was pleasant.
"Aye!" Torn between ruining the mood and not, Seriel chugged her drink.
After about three hours, Seriel's eyes began to glaze.
"Hey, Fermi. You can't live like that. Don't live that way, you bastard."
It was the fourth time she'd said it, but Fermi listened with a faint smile.
"You really are something. But—no, you can't live like that. Do you know how hard other people work to become mages… How could you sell diplomas for money?"
"Yeah, you bastard. Money… huh?" As Seriel regained half her sobriety and opened her eyes wide, Fermi lit a cigarette.
"I've overseen graduation exams for years. I passed a lot of people, and I failed even more." He blew out a long plume of smoke. "You ask who I took money from? No. I've never been bribed, never taken money."
"Then why…?"
"Because of my principle. Controlling the system. Some people just fight to win, but I won't do it that way. You all compete to test your skills; I fight in my own way."
Was that a lie?
'Not a broker? Does he want me to take his side at school? No…' Fermi was undeniably hard to trust, but after half a day Seriel felt one thing clearly:
'This guy doesn't lie.' He'd sooner be silent than lie.
"Cigarettes. I never saw you smoke at school."
"I don't particularly like it. I just don't want to let taboos dictate my life. If something's necessary, I'll do it; if it's not, I won't."
That was how he controlled the system.
'What kind of life did he live?'
The more she learned about Fermi, the more confused Seriel became.
"Fine. I'll believe you. But you've already proven your ability. Why stay at school?"
Fermi thought of his mother.
'Yorga.' The specter of that incident still haunted the upper reaches of Istas.
"I don't know. Why, I wonder?"
Seriel felt a chill. Fermi's expression was transparently empty, but it looked like tears could break out at any moment.
"You…" All she could think was that she wanted to hold him.
"Let's go. We're late."
After paying, they stepped back out into a street already thick with night.
Should they part here?
The timing and mood made everything awkward, and Fermi asked, "Maybe…?"
Seriel nodded slightly.
"Yeah."
She woke in an anonymous inn room a little after four in the morning. Outside was silent, and Fermi's quiet breathing beside her told her he was asleep.
'Ah—'
The events of the previous day flashed through her mind like a reel.
'Are you insane?' It wasn't a bad feeling—honestly, it had felt pretty good—but sobriety brought other realities.
She had spent a day with a rival in the graduation class, the leader of the enemy faction.
She turned over like a snake, slipped off the bed, and gathered her clothes.
'Careful, careful.'
Kneeling, she dressed and checked the contents of her bag without making a sound. She opened the door slowly and closed it as gently as if not to allow a single decibel.
After checking the corridor, she bolted down the hall and left the inn as if fleeing a crime scene.
'This is a secret for life. I can't even tell Amy.'
A minute after Seriel left the room, Fermi lifted his eyelids.
He seemed already awake; staring into the dark, he covered his eyes with his arm and sighed.
In Delta's corridor, Seriel thought back.
At that year's graduation exam, Amy had been lynched by the Golden Wheel and eliminated early.
'I passed.' Seriel had passed too. Unlike first-choice Amy, Seriel hadn't been the Golden Wheel's target, but combined with that day's events it left an unsolvable question:
'Why did Fermi make Amy fail? Purely tactical? Or was it because of me…?' She couldn't bring herself to ask despite the face in front of her that felt like a vulnerability.
"Fermi, is something—"
"Sorry." He cut her off and turned away. "Something urgent came up. I'll give you the angel-manufacturing method soon. It won't take long."
Watching his retreating back, Seriel felt both relief and a pang in her chest.
'What was that look? After what Shirone said, I know what that look means now.'
'Has he lost someone else precious?'
At eight in the morning the convocation opened.
Heads of state and officials from various countries attended, but the air was different from the day before. Countries that had been struck radiated anger; those that had avoided the blow watched with wary eyes.
Albino stroked his beard. 'The mood's grim. They probably already know. Today's convocation will be rough.'
The rulers of the Moon Kingdom, Tormia, Jincheon, Corona, Paras, and Gustav were absent.
Shirone thought, 'Even the Moon Kingdom's Moon Dragon was hit. In the end, among the nations attacked, the only one without damage might be the Tribal Union.' One thing nagged at him.
'It makes no sense that Kitra was hit. He's an opart. Even struck, he shouldn't show shock.'
Was information being hidden for strategic reasons? While Woorin thought the same, Corona's think tank—the Ivory Tower—spoke.
"I am Ivory Tower Grade 2 resident, Beya Tsuoi." True to her moniker "Black Mars," her voice rang through the hall. "There was an assassination attempt in the Corona Kingdom last night. Our investigation shows at least four countries suffered the same attack, and the prime suspect is…"
Tsuoi's gaze slid to the side. "The Moon Kingdom."
The Moon Kingdom's premier leapt to his feet. "This is slander! I'll be clear—we also suffered losses from this—"
"That's beside the point." Tsuoi raised a hand to stop him. If a Moon Dragon with voting rights had defected, who the culprit was became irrelevant.
"The details can be revealed in time. What Corona wants to know is the method used to attack other countries. According to our investigation, it was done with the 'sal'—something that would have been impossible without assistance from the Netherworld." The Moon Kingdom premier sank back into his seat.
"It wasn't just using ghosts. It was someone who amplified the ghosts' emotions. In short, Satan was involved. And as far as we know, Satan's gaze has turned elsewhere."
"Isn't he in the Kashan Empire?" When all eyes shifted, Woorin smiled and stood.
"First, our condolences to the nations that suffered. The Kashan Empire did everything to prevent this incident and wishes to make clear we have no intention of breaking any peace treaties."
Lies spoken with conviction sounded plausible.
"So where is Satan?"
"Kashan and the Moon Kingdom did enter Code One talks, that's true, but it was Satan the Moon Kingdom wanted, not me. Let me be clear: Kashan had nothing to do with this incident."
Albino's lips curled into a bitter smile. 'Cutting off the tail.'
At that moment the convocation doors opened and Habitz entered.
"What I'm about to tell you—" Half the officials snapped to their feet; the presence of an unbound Satan was overpowering.
"What are you doing? Call the guards!" someone barked.
Habitz raised a hand. "Now, now." He activated Vanishing, and only after thirty seconds did the officials realize he was standing on the dais.
"Damn it!" Fear that their own necks could be on the line made the officials glare at Woorin.
"Kashan! Didn't you promise? If you can't control Habitz—then—Habitz! That is—" As Vanishing flickered on and off, the officials' minds went fuzzier and fuzzier.
"Listen." Silence snapped across the hall.
"You broke the rules first, Moon Kingdom. Until then, I hadn't harmed anyone present at this convocation." That, it turned out, was true.
"The Moon Kingdom planned to send the 'sal' across all eleven countries. Under Code One, Woorin chose to halve the number of targeted nations in exchange for handing me over. It was meant to minimize other countries' damage and, above all, to protect Kashan."
International law recognizes defensive offensive actions when a state's safety is threatened.
"Therefore Kashan is also a victim. I wanted to follow the convocation's rules. But the Moon Kingdom threatened me and stripped me of control."
'Woorin asked me to relay this.' Habitz spoke aloud what he had heard in her mind.
"This is the full story as I know it. And now I have reclaimed my freedom."
The Moon Kingdom premier ground his teeth. 'This was their true aim. If they label the Moon Kingdom a war criminal, they get the pretext to use Habitz. They know we can't refute it.'
Even if the case went to an international tribunal, the Moon Kingdom's chance of victory was slim.
Woorin's mouth curved. 'They did scatter the "sal." They added some extra spice, but that's a cost you accept.'
It was the power of the true perpetrator.
"Enough." As the officials gaped, Habitz cut off Woorin's voice and spoke.
"Anyway, it's all a mess now. We're killing and being killed; even those who survive won't last long." He paused. "So I have a proposal. It will be very good for you too."
"What are you talking about? By what right do you move twelve countries?"
Even before hearing it, fear had spread through them.
"You don't have to follow it. But you will have no choice. This isn't about rights—it's about power."
Satan's gaze, perhaps for the first time in ages, fixed on Yahweh.
"Kill Shirone. Until Yahweh dies, I'll kill one person every hour. Starting now, anyone—one per hour—will be my target. That includes all of you in this convocation."