Episode 33 - Bizeth's Gambit 5

Kaftin's foot did not come down.
No — it couldn't.
Whispermere had thrown her arms around his shin and was holding it in place.

"...What do you think you're doing, Whispermere."
"I won't allow any more of this."
"Oh... so you're going to stand in my way."
"...Yes."

The moment their eyes met, she knew.
The Kaftin in front of her now was not the Kaftin she had dealt with until today.

The red light burning at the center of those pupils — the same eyes he had come out of the restaurant massacre wearing.

She understood it clearly now, for the first time — the reason he had fought with any restraint at all had been entirely because she had been beside him, placing small requests like shackles around him, one by one.

If she didn't hold him here, right now —
Before long, he would simply discard the human called Kaftin without a second thought and choose the beast again.

"Well... fine. You've lost your usefulness to me anyway."
"......!"
"If you insist on keeping hold of me like that..."
"...You'll crush me along with him."
"...Yes."

Whispermere swallowed.
One wrong choice here and everything was over.

"...What do you plan to tell Conquere?"
"...You—"

The movement that had been about to drive the foot down — stopped.
The clamoring voices in Kaftin's head quieted, one by one, like a bell tolling them to silence.

Damn it. He had forgotten.
Conquere was in this city too.
If he pushed this toward annihilating the city, there was no guarantee she wouldn't be caught in it.

He had only just committed to taking responsibility for her — and he would be destroying that with his own hands.

That, above anything else — that absolutely could not happen. Not ever.
He was already living with having broken people he should never have touched, once, twice — maybe more times than he knew.

The philosophy he had built his life around — never leaving a single regret, choosing death over a life spent looking back — would crumble.

Come to think of it — the revenge against the Gang Lords, which held nothing personal — wasn't that itself an act of atonement for the master he had killed with his own hands?
He could not compound his wrongs any further.

Absolutely not.

"......"
"You see. This is your last chance. Stand down for today."
"...You're right that today is the last chance. The only chance I'll have to take all the Gang Lords down at once—!"

That was the truth of it.
The analysis running through Kaftin's mind had already arrived at a clear conclusion about what came next.

If he didn't eliminate the Gang Lords here and now, they would go underground.
Disappear to some remote corner of the world, out of sight, and begin pulling strings from the shadows.

When that happened, hunting them down and tearing them apart would become considerably harder.
The underworld had more back channels than even Kaftin was confident he could fully uncover.

This was the chance to hunt them all in a single sweep.

"This is the only opportunity — you know that too, at the level of a guild branch head—!"
"...Yes. Even so. You have to stop here."
"...Why?"

Bizeth, face pressed to the ground, held his breath and focused entirely on their conversation.
One wrong move and he might provoke the lunatic.
And if that happened — if the creature gave in to that impulse — he might find his skull crushed flat beneath that boot.

"Things have already gone too far...! And I told you before, didn't I? Don't touch the temple—!"
"That's not something I can agree to. Just looking at that structure makes me want to vomit. I want to burn it down—!"
"That's exactly what I'm saying you can't do! What will you do if Conquere gets sick and there's no temple to go to?!"
"...That's not a problem."

The sudden calm in his voice as he answered without hesitation made her look up at him — and he was wearing an easy smile.

"Most of what I can piece together from my memory fragments concerns various fields of study... if those memories are correct, I have medical knowledge as well. I don't need any help from priests."
"......!"
"Do you understand? I am a genius — equally capable of destroying the human body and repairing it. Of killing and of keeping alive, whatever I choose—!"

The self-satisfied smile faded slowly as he lowered his foot to the ground and seized Bizeth by the scruff of the neck.

"Well... if you insist on saying all that, I suppose I'll stop causing trouble for now. The mood's been ruined anyway."
"......!"
"But—! Bizeth comes with me."
"W-wait—?!"

Bizeth finally started struggling in earnest, now that he was being hauled up by the back of his neck.

"H-hey! We said hostage exchange! Whispermere's back, isn't she! You're supposed to let me go! Have some decency, man!"
"Hm? That's got nothing to do with me. Listen carefully — the one holding the decision-making authority here isn't you, or that subordinate, or Whispermere, or anyone else. It's me."
"What—?!"

He was grinding his teeth and thrashing — and Kaftin drove a kick into his tailbone without mercy.

"What are you so worked up about? You know as well as anyone that the only law in this district is strength. I killed Veilslayer. You're already in my hands. The Gang Lords are no longer my enemies in this street — so tell me, who's the strongest here right now. Hmm?"
"Ngh—!"

Whispermere caught Kaftin's hand and shook her head.

"...What is it now? I agreed to hold off on storming the temple. I've already—"
"...For me. Would you?"
"......!"
"Whispermere—! You—!"

Her eyes were wavering.
The red light in Kaftin's pupils — which she had met directly — was dimming, little by little, under the weight of that gaze.

"...Reason?"
"There are various circumstances that prevent me from calling myself simply loyal to him — but he is my superior, and the one who supported my rise to where I am. I'd like the chance to repay that..."
"Whispermere—!"
"......"

Kaftin blinked once, twice, visibly deliberating.
Then he nodded.

"Fine... if you're going to put it that way."

Before the two of them could fully exhale with relief, he raised a finger and kept talking.

"But—! There's a condition."
"Wh—?!"
"What—?! Don't tell me—!"

Bizeth broke into a cold sweat, bracing for the demand that he surrender his sword arm.
But what came out of Kaftin's mouth was something else entirely.

"Whispermere. Resign your position."
"Wh — what?!"
"What?!"
"In other words — if you want me to release Bizeth here, you'll need to leave the information guild under the Phantom Fang Lord's umbrella."

Bizeth saw it immediately.
This man — Kaftin — was moving to neutralize the one person capable of reining him in, so she couldn't interfere the next time he came for the Gang Lords.
He was trying to pull the only person who could stop his rampage out of the Gang Lords' reach.

"Hold on — you! Springing some strange condition out of nowhere—!"
"You don't have a voice in this. Keep quiet, or I'll kick that precious thing between your legs clean off."
"What?!"

Kaftin smiled — the smile of a man who means exactly what he says.
Bizeth looked at that expression and shut his mouth.

"Well then. What's it going to be, Whispermere? You decide."
"......!"

He was pretending to hand her the decision — in a moment like this, of all times.

He already knew what her answer would be. And yet he was framing it as her choice, her freedom — binding her to it all the more tightly by making it hers.

"...Understood. I'll do it."
"...Whispermere—!"
"...Good."

The moment the words were out he flung Bizeth toward his subordinates without ceremony.

"You can go now. At least here, today... I'll let this pass."
"Ngh—!"
"You know what this means. There won't be a next time. Pray we don't cross paths again."
"I won't pray for any such thing... I will come back. I'll build my strength and I will come back — so sit back and enjoy today's little victory while you can...!"
"Heheheh—!"

Bizeth meant every word.
Age didn't matter anymore.
Past his physical prime? Not strong enough?

None of that mattered.
This had become a matter of pride.

He would take that monster's head. No matter what anyone said — he would do it himself.

"I will come for you — one day, I promise you that—! And I will hang your head beside Veilslayer's grave—!"
"Hfheheh—! Now that's more like it... saves me the trouble of tracking you down—!"

Bizeth hauled himself upright on unsteady legs, accepted his subordinates' support, and retreated toward the temple at a quick pace.
Kaftin turned and looked at Whispermere, standing beside him.

"Hm... an unexpected retirement."
"......"
"...So then. Have you decided where you'll work next?"

The sheer nerve of it — hard to believe he was actually sixteen.
He knew perfectly well she had no options, and yet he was wearing that gentle smile, as if he were simply congratulating her on newfound freedom.

Any ordinary woman would have frozen in place.
But Whispermere swallowed once, set her jaw, and held herself together.

From the moment she had grabbed hold of his leg, she had somehow sensed it was going to come to this.

"...It seems I have."

She forced her voice to stay level despite the tremor in it.
When exactly had he started planning this? She almost asked — then stopped herself.

If the answer was further back than she expected, she was fairly certain she would cry.

"Is that so? Congratulations are in order, then. I hope it goes well for you."
"...That remains to be seen. I don't know yet whether they'll have me."
"Oh? Must be quite the position."
"...Yes. In a number of ways."
"...Heh—!"

The one thing she could hold onto as some small comfort — somewhere along the way, that red light in his eyes had quietly gone out, replaced by the familiar sound of his laughter, varied and unhinged as ever.

—To be continued—