Chapter 375

Chapter 364

A brother.

The moment Ismailov spoke, the faint noise that had been coming through the artifact cut off abruptly. Mecklenburg, standing behind me, stiffened as well. I pulled his hand off my shoulder and asked Ismailov.

"Aren't you of Slavic descent?"

"......"

"Well, ethnicity aside, you don't look much alike either. And yet you say brother."

Still no answer. I shrugged and said:

"You mean there's something the two of you share in essence. Am I right?"

"......"

"...Fine. What about Narce Farnese—do you know him well?"

I could feel Mecklenburg looking at me strangely. He must be wondering why I was suddenly summoning up Narce Farnese. I didn't waver and kept my eyes forward, and after a long while, an answer came.

"An Imperial Second Academy student who came from the Papal State to study."

"Were you educated by Pleroma?"

The pure white human, who had been motionless, lifted his eyes. I couldn't see the eyes rolling, but I could at least tell that the shadow drawn on the cloth rose minutely. My question encompassed two questions. I hadn't specified exactly what he'd been educated in, and sure enough, he didn't answer. Whether my question was ambiguous or not, he wouldn't have answered. I nodded.

"Then who am I?"

Mecklenburg crossed his arms and shifted half a step. He seemed tense. Regrettably, rendering the tension pointless, no answer came. I watched the second hand of my pocket watch tick heavily, then closed the lid.

"You clearly know who I am. Why does someone on the order of the Second Coming of Christ know me?"

At that, Mecklenburg abruptly covered his mouth. I kept my gaze fixed on Ismailov and muttered.

"Why exactly are you laughing in this situation, Senior? They've been calling Ismailov a prophet all this time, but in truth they regard him as material soon to become God. Messenger of the covenant and all that—they're calling him the shepherd of the Lord, and if that isn't the Second Coming...."

"...Don't say things that sound so much like a cultist."

I waved my hand at him and leaned forward. A suffocating silence flowed again. In this narrow, dark interrogation room, no one's presence could be heard anymore, and beyond the artifact it was quiet too. The pure white long hair draped like a veil and the boots of the same color didn't stir an inch. I looked at that artificial sanctity and opened my mouth.

"I'd like to request one confession, Jesus."

"......"

"I don't believe in religious prophecy. The sun darkened, the moon giving no light, the stars falling from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shaken—I don't believe in the things prophesied to occur after that moment. Naturally, I don't believe you are the messenger of the covenant, and I don't believe you will recognize your divinity and fully become 'the Lord we have sought.' What do you say? Will you cast someone like me into hellfire?"

You can't. Because you're not God. I tilted my head and continued.

"The way I see it, we are all nothing but human. Of course, I've already suspected before that you people are extolling a mere human as the Messiah. That's what cults like yours have in common, after all. So here's my question. Why does Pleroma call you the messenger of the covenant?"

Why is a person on the order of that messenger of the covenant here, suffering this treatment?

A pitiable thing. Just as I am human, and Mecklenburg is human, and all my friends are human, this man too is merely human. Whether the grandiose names—messenger of the covenant, the Lord—are truth or not, he's just one of the billions of bipedal primates wandering this world.

The cigar that would be in Mecklenburg's pocket called to me. I exhaled the countless hypotheses and fragments drifting through my head in one long sigh and asked again.

"Whether it's true or not, becoming the subject of a prophecy is a genuinely unfair thing. Why must a human bear such a fate? I pity you."

"......"

"But separate from that pity, the fact that you people believe this 'prophecy' as truth and seek to realize it means this is no longer something to simply overlook. Therefore, what we want to know is threefold. First: why does Pleroma call you the messenger of the covenant? Second: what connection do I have to you people, that they told the Empire to place you in my care?"

I looked at my silent counterpart and continued.

"Third. Do you know how far my predictions extend?"

What I'd hidden between the 'truths' I'd spoken aloud—or not. Do you see through my performance? The answer that flowed out after a long while was outside my expectations.

"I do not."

"After talking as though you could read Narce Farnese's thoughts?"

"I cannot read them now."

He moved his dry lips once more.

"Though he can read me."

He was saying the same thing he'd said before. Even after Narce had directly demonstrated that he couldn't use his ability, he says this again.... How very interesting.

"Fine. Then let's move to the second question. I don't know what you people take me for, but I too am nothing but human. Far from sympathizing with Pleroma's ideology, I'm not even close to religion in the first place. So how would someone like me be the Pleroma among Pleroma, and moreover the one to attend you? Should I donate my blood for you, perhaps?"

At the coldly thrown question, Ismailov's head lifted. At that reaction, a chilling sensation like a current through my lower back swept over me. I felt my mouth going dry and ran my tongue along the inside of my lips. Mecklenburg, too, must have gone on high alert at Ismailov's reaction—the flow of magic power emanating from his body shifted minutely. I looked at the blue veins on the back of my hand and the crooked red lines showing on his cheek, and said:

"Did Pleroma order you to?"

"I do not drink blood."

"So you haven't come to drink mine?"

"I drink no one's blood."

"......"

Well, now.

I let slip a light laugh and swallowed the curse gathering on the tip of my tongue. To abruptly become a human more Pleroma-like than Pleroma's own Messiah—what a novel feeling. Mecklenburg looked like he didn't believe the man's words. I stared at the grey tiles of the floor in silence, and unexpectedly, words came from Ismailov.

"They demanded nothing of me concerning you."

"......"

"Nor did they tell me anything about you."

According to what the investigator had told me earlier, he'd been dosed with our side's mental manipulation drug, modeled on Pleroma's own. Whether because of the drug or not, he left gaps between his words long enough to test one's patience. I watched the muscles of his face move minimally and waited.

"They only said I must come here."

"In other words, you're seeing me for the first time in the Empire. Then why on earth did they entrust you to me?"

"......"

"If you won't speak, you will have to remain here."

"I was told nothing."

Haha.... I burst out laughing. Drawing on roughly twenty years of experience in a line of work where analyzing people was the job, I didn't get the sense that this man was deliberately spinning his mind at full speed to lie, and from the way he spoke, he didn't seem to have the temperament for it either. Besides, having been injected with a mental manipulation drug modeled on Pleroma's, his head wouldn't be turning over properly anyway. Of course, the baseline wariness that he might be lying remained in place, but still—if my conjecture was true... the Pleroma bastards were doing something truly laughable. The mere fact that this man knew nothing was, in itself, good information for me.

"You know nothing, and you can't offer a legitimate reason. Does it look to you like I have any reason to stand with you people?"

He couldn't answer. This time, it wasn't that he didn't answer—he couldn't. He only kept moving his lips, unable to draw any sound from his vocal cords. It was the first hesitant reaction he'd shown.

Dragging this out further would resolve nothing. Just by asking about Gabriele Caetani and his relationship to Narce Farnese, I'd achieved my immediate objective. One of the countless questions I held was related to them, after all. Now it was time to examine exactly what that relationship was—and that would be my task.

I shook my head, crossed my legs, and adjusted my grip on the question sheet. The moment I was about to select and ask the questions the government had prepared, finally getting down to their requirements, that voice struck me.

"I like you."

***

"Refreshing."

As I came out patting the side of my head with a towel, Heike looked at me.

"You washed your ears? Why?"

"Just because."

I smiled gently at Heike and wiped off the illegally consecrated, unlicensed holy water—though being unlicensed, it wasn't really holy water, but for convenience's sake—with the towel.

He likes me? I'm grateful, but with the other party being Pleroma's Messiah, I couldn't help but recoil.

'He heard nothing about me, we just met, and he likes me.'

At least one of the two is a lie. Either the claim that he has no information about me is a lie, or the claim that he likes me is a lie. Maybe both are lies. Why must I think this way? Because for my mental health, it's far better to assume he has some hidden agenda than to believe Pleroma's Messiah genuinely, purely likes me.

At least washing my ears with Divine Power-steeped water made my head feel somewhat purified. I'd considered self-consecrating my head to purify every liquid in it, but my saliva would probably get consecrated too, which felt morally off, so I couldn't. I'd also considered stepping it down a level and just showering later with consecrated water, but that would be an affront to the Holy See, and sanctifying someone else's bathroom would only increase the risk of discovery, so I decided against it. I'm currently feeling uneasy enough to entertain thoughts like these.

One way or another, I was now back in Bavaria, at the Nymphenburg Palace that the command's people were using as lodging.

Heike handed me his pajamas and threw out a meaningless question.

"Sleeping here?"

"Please."

"Fine by me."

The way these subtly clipped exchanges kept flowing was truly marvelous. I returned Heike's pajamas to him and pulled my own out of my bag. For some unknowable reason, Heike clapped, expressionless.

'Who did he learn that from....'

"Why are you clapping?"

"Preparedness."

"Thanks."

I'm genuinely curious who he learned it from. Couldn't they have taught him the proper usage? It didn't seem like an entirely wrong reaction, but layered over that expression.... As I was thinking that, the friend who seemed like the likely culprit behind Heike's condition flung the door open.

"Lukas!"

Ulrike shook off her shoes at the carpet's edge and came bounding in. I looked back and forth between her and Heike and asked.

"What brings you here? Came to hang out with Heike?"

"That and more. I heard you'd come to Nymphenburg Palace—there was no way I wasn't coming!"

At that, Heike asked Ulrike with half-lidded eyes.

"You said you weren't coming earlier."

"Hahaha. This time Lukas is here for once! Honestly, I love hanging out with you, Heike, but I don't have the stomach to drink any more.... Let's play without alcohol this time."

"Ah."

Heike made a face of realization.

So I'm to serve as the drinking breakwater, is that it? I smiled, watching them. These friends didn't know what had happened at the negotiations or what kind of bomb had followed us all the way here. Narce and Leo were still nowhere to be seen, and Mecklenburg and the 91st Class Representative, having turned deadly serious, had been discussing the situation ahead before being summoned back by the government. My own head was occupied by all manner of thoughts, leaving no room for laughter—but watching my bright-faced friends, I could forget, if only briefly, the gravity and rumination weighing on my shoulders. Just then, Heike glanced at the board game box and asked.

"What are we playing?"

"First we should give Lukas what we wrote earlier. Let's have him read it now and hear his thoughts."

Thoughts? When I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head, Ulrike rummaged through the inner pocket of her jacket and answered.

"We heard Pleroma asked for you."

"Hm? They did."

What did that have to do with "thoughts"? Thinking that, I focused on what Ulrike was doing. What she pulled out was an envelope. She fluttered it back and forth, rolling her eyes.

"The reason Pleroma picked you, specifically, of all people... well, honestly, their motive shows through pretty plainly. So, in case you were hurt by it, or worried."

"......"

From the moment they and I became entangled, my image as a Pleroma could only harden. My friends clearly believed either that Pleroma had aimed for exactly that, or at least that I would worry about appearing that way to them. Ulrike smacked her lips and continued.

"Ah—of course, you might not have thought anything of it! We just wanted to write to you, so we did."

I stared at those papers, then burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing? Why, why?"

"It's nothing. I'm just happy."

I opened Ulrike's letter first. Long lines continued onto the next page, the way Elias's had, and the handwriting was quite sharp. The person is soft and round, but the handwriting is sharp—it made for a novel impression. Now I saw that letters from Elias and Tsheringen were also tucked between the next envelopes. The friends who hadn't attended the negotiations must have gathered together during that time.

I sat reading the letters for a long while, then looked back and forth at my friends waiting for my reaction with shining eyes, and smiled.

"Thank you. More than words can express."

Even at this brief remark, Ulrike's face filled with pride, and she pointed at Heike.

"Heike's the one who suggested writing first~!"

"I see. What's the occa... no, I mean... how did that come about?"

"It's just as Luise said. I know you're not a Pleroma."

The dry, flat voice and achromatic eyes turned squarely toward me. This was somewhat unexpected. I took one more look at the line at the end of his letter—the magnolias are blooming, so let's go take photographs in the park—and nodded.

"I'll have to write back."

I have no talent for letters. I'd occasionally written and posted them for fans, but it wasn't as though that happened often.

Still, isn't it worth following my friends' example? When any time could be the last. This time there would be no deflecting with answers like "yeah, no, got it."

KNOCK, KNOCK—

At the sudden sound, I looked toward the door. When Heike snapped his fingers and turned the doorknob with magic power, Narce came into view, taking his hand off the knob and smiling.

"I heard your voices as I was passing by. May I come in?"

"Yeah."

Heike shifted over a little, making a spot on the bed for Narce to sit. I watched him enter with a somewhat haggard face and asked.

"Where's Leo? He didn't even come to my hospital room because he was busy talking with you."

"He fell asleep."

"Where?"

"In the lounge. I carried him to his room, so he'll be up soon."

He's not the kind of friend who falls asleep in a lounge. I stared at the pattern on the bedsheet in silence, then cast Sound Insulation Magic and asked Narce.

"What do you think about Ismailov?"

"So you've heard. It would be best to keep as much distance as possible."

Narce leaned against the wall, his voice devoid of emotion. Heike was already laying out the game board with a subtly excited face, but Narce didn't look like he had the energy to play. I watched him close his eyes and asked.

"Keep my distance?"

"Nothing good comes from being near that man. For all of us. ...The Empire should not have accepted him."

"That's what I said."

"Haha. Quick with your calculations."

"I know full well our side didn't accept him with open arms and a glad heart, but they still should have refused. Because there must be a reason those people had to hand the 'messenger of the covenant' over to us."

I wagged my finger and spoke with sarcasm. Narce asked with a light laugh.

"And that reason is?"

"Still at the hypothesis stage. Better to speak after at least running it through verification."

I answered with words that may or may not have gotten through to Narce, then asked immediately.

"Narce. Does Insight work on him?"

"Nothing can be read. A shame."

Nothing can be read. I'd had no intention of asking what he had read in the first place. What mattered was that he was saying the opposite of Ismailov's testimony. The moment I made to open my mouth once more, a weight settled on one of my shoulders.

"I'm sleepy, Lukas."

"......"

I stared blankly at the friend slumped against me, then answered briefly.

"Sleep."

"I hope nothing happens tomorrow."

Narce spoke in something like a whisper.

Was he not using his Foresight? Insight and Foresight are different, and when Insight was restricted, he had always substituted Foresight for it. Surely he hadn't lost the use of Foresight too. I swallowed the question. Now was not the time.

We cracked open a bottle of wine that was in Heike's room and shared it, played board games for a long while, then dropped onto the carpet beneath the bed and fell asleep. No—to be precise, everyone but me fell asleep. Even when I tried to sleep, thoughts of Ismailov and Pleroma kept multiplying, and sleep wouldn't come. I looked at Heike, sprawled off on the far side, and at Ulrike, lying in bed at perfect attention under the covers. Regrettably, not even the room's owner had been exempted from the carpet.

'Should I fish one of them out and at least put them on the sofa?'

Not long after that thought, I was dragged out by the collar by Leo.

"What is it with you now...."

"......"

Leo swore at me with his eyes, then turned around. Seeing him wear that expression without opening his mouth, he seemed to have a great deal he wanted to say and was holding it in. I looked at his hair—covering his forehead, not remotely groomed, so unlike him—and the dark circles under his eyes, and shook my head. The fatigued complexion and voice Narce had shown earlier overlapped with his. Sure enough, out of his mouth came exactly the conversation I could have predicted.

"What did you talk about with Narce?"

"Nothing much."

"Can't you tell me?"

"...I asked whether he could use Insight on Ismailov. Narce answered that nothing could be read, and then he said he hoped nothing would happen tomorrow. Satisfied? Nothing much, right?"

"......"

Leo, who had been hanging his head low, answered slowly.

"Thank you."

"For what."

"I heard you went and met Ismailov. How was it?"

"That was nothing much either. The guy barely answered anything."

"Really?"

"The conversation hit plenty of snags. I sat there quite a while, but there wasn't much to show for it."

Saying more than this felt unwise. I might end up having to make holy water to wash Leo's ears too. At my words, Leo's lips parted slightly and his brows knitted.

"You're saying he answered? That prophet opened his mouth?"

"......"

He was the type not to open his mouth? Come to think of it, from the moment the government summoned me, I hadn't exactly assumed he'd been faithfully answering the investigators' questions. I felt my head beginning to ache and nodded. At this rate, the conversation was about to get longer. I turned my steps back toward Heike's room and waved my hand.

"This won't do. I'm going back in. Good night."

Fat chance. A vivid blue surge of magic power flew from behind and planted itself on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going? That's not your room."

***

For all the cold interrogation in his tone, thankfully, Leo asked me nothing further.

Less than three hours later, I received orders and went out to the front of Nymphenburg Palace. Narce and Leo, though not included in the orders, had contacted the government themselves for permission and followed me. I could see Imperial government officials from Prussia, Mecklenburg, and the 91st Class Representative Mage. I saluted them and looked at the figure far off, both arms held by government officials. There stood a mage, pure white hair neatly tied up. His gaze turned to me. The chilling description I'd heard from Mecklenburg no longer suited this face. This man simply looked like a somewhat more striking New Human. Why?

"......"

This mage's eyes were no longer white but a pale water-blue. The color used by the Holy See—exactly that. Even though Pleroma had arrogated the Holy See's honor and offices as they pleased, Narce's expression didn't change. Ismailov glanced at me without any particular reaction and returned to looking wherever he'd been looking before.

'...The reason he came with his eye color corrected...?'

Wasn't it still the stage where that man needed further restraint? And why on earth had I been called to this place? I erased the tentative hypothesis from my mind and whispered to Mecklenburg.

"Why is this person here?"

Mecklenburg, wearing his public-facing blank expression, lightly chewed the inside of his lip in apparent difficulty when I stepped close and asked.

"...I'll explain briefly for now. The government and the representative delegations of the 91st Class A and 98th Class A will take responsibility for this man and keep him under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Meaning the government and we will bear responsibility for every matter of safety. In exchange."

Mecklenburg held up the restraint key in his hand and the vial of the drug they must have been injecting into Ismailov, and said nothing further. He rolled his eyes as if conscious of Ismailov behind him and pressed his lips firmly shut.

"Go on."

"You will need to live with Ismailov and take full charge of communication."

Communication.

That meant not mere conversation, but information. In that instant, Narce's eyes sharpened. Damn it—a soundless lament settled on his lips.