Chapter 378

Chapter 367

"......"

Ismailov was even less responsive than Heike. He showed no shock at my words, nor any who do you think you are look. He only watched me, mouth firmly shut, the fronts of his eyebrows gently tilted.

"Did I guess wrong?"

I asked that with a smile, and only then did Ismailov drop his eyes downward. I looked at the light blinking red beneath his glove.

"The alarm is quite loud. Your heart rate keeps exceeding the threshold and causing all this—does nothing come to mind about it?"

"......"

"Say, that it's embarrassing, or that having to wear an artifact like this is unreasonable to begin with, or that you want to escape the situation, or that my seniors constantly showing up is a burden... honestly, isn't even the way I'm talking at you like this somewhat irritating, from where you sit?"

And was that all? Going back to something more fundamental, let's reconsider what "messenger of the covenant" means. It means this man holds a position equivalent to the founder-head of a cult. In a position like that, he could live in swaggering luxury his whole life—at minimum, as long as he's treated as a "prophet" per the title, he ought to be able to live in honor. Instead, he was handed to the Empire alone by the Pleroma leadership, his magic power restricted, his entire condition streamed in real time to the Imperial government, unable even to leave this room by himself. In what way is this the treatment a founder-class figure receives? The Imperial government has no choice but to guard against him, fine—but shouldn't Pleroma, at the very least, never have allowed the figure they call the "messenger of the covenant" to be treated like this?

Every clue said the same thing: in every step of how Ismailov was handled, only the will of the Pleroma leadership was reflected—never his own. All of it is unreasonable. And that, in itself, becomes yet another piece of information for us.

I smiled and flicked my eyebrows for the sake of Ismailov, who still wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Honestly, I can't quite figure out what you were expecting that your heart rate would spike this insanely. The only hypothesis I have is that you're experiencing this situation for the first time. For example—making a friend your own age for the first time. No, setting aside making friends, even simply holding a conversation for the first time. Eating a meal aboveground, away from the adults who monitor you, or getting your hands on a book you chose yourself, for the first time...."

I trailed off and closed my mouth. Ismailov had begun looking at me again, but I couldn't do the same. I cast a meaningless gaze at the intricate weave of the carpet.

"In truth, even granting all that, I still have no idea why the first incident happened when I came close to you.... Obviously you were flustered because you didn't expect me to come right up to your face—but precisely why? Is that something to be so startled by?"

"......"

"It happened that I recalled what I'd heard about your handling of the Berserker, so I put the thoughts together. Do you perhaps have a record where anything you reached your hand toward ended up dead? Or were you simply flustered because it was your first time seeing a peer at close range?"

Either way, it's an insane thing to say. The words carried so little sense of reality even as I spoke them that I had to suppress the urge to paper over the awkwardness with a laugh. Right now, I needed to be more sincere than at any other moment. Even if the other party was an enemy, that was the choice that committed no unnecessary sin.

Naturally, he answered not with words but with his eyes. He only gazed at me steadily. Since I had no means of interpreting what that meant, I received his gaze for a while, then returned to the main point.

"What was it you hoped I would do?"

"......"

Setting aside the first alarm, having gone through the second and third, I understood well enough.

Anticipation. Of what? This, too, by most people's standards, is an unremarkable anticipation. The peer who was supposed to spend time with him—to monitor him—had come to visit, and he was glad, and he anticipated that somehow, in some form, they might spend time together again. This is a moment where I hope my guess is wrong. Setting aside personal likes and dislikes about the man, if this is true, it leaves a bitter taste.

"I could only conclude that you might want to become close with me. Why I, of all people, caught your liking, I don't know. I have hypotheses, but they're still at the conjecture stage and nothing is certain. But that one thing—that you said you like me—is clear, so I'll dare to assert it: you want to become close with me."

Now I understood how much courage it had taken him to say what he said in the interrogation room yesterday. And why, before releasing those words, he had shown his first hesitant reaction to anything I'd said. Never having had the opportunity to speak his own thoughts, he would have had no way to properly judge when to bring something up, or whether it was even acceptable to say to an enemy. I laced my fingers together and spoke.

"Even so, as I said before, I cannot be friends with a Pleroma."

Whether he judged my statement true or false didn't matter. I said nothing more, and dozens of seconds passed that way. Ismailov's eyes were still. The signal tone flowing from the heartbeat-measuring artifact began to quicken. I now looked at the artifact glowing at his neck as well. I had seen firsthand at the hospital how much magic power control technology had been applied to his body, and yet the thought occurred—at this rate, might his magic power rupture? Having received an answer more unmistakable than any words, I smiled.

"But if you were not a Pleroma, that would be a different story."

CRASH— SHATTER—!

I deflected the fragments of the Sound Insulation Magic and swung my body aside. Leo, having smashed through the Sound Insulation Magic, stared at Ismailov with a rigidly hardened face.

"What conversation are you having that his heart is doing this?"

The sharply accelerating signal must have caught them. Mecklenburg stood with his arms crossed, merely observing how we carried on, and Albertina Hohenzollern was waiting calmly as well. Narce, too—perhaps already aware that Ismailov wanted to be close to me—simply stood by with a frigid face. Elias's and Leo's expressions were the most confounded in the room. Leo, apparently nursing a headache, pressed his temple and approached me.

"I didn't think this through. Let's go back. If I'd known it would be like this...."

"It's fine. This is only the beginning."

I said it looking straight at him. Leo furrowed his brows and made to say something, then closed his mouth and looked down at me. I reassured him with a glance and cast Sound Insulation Magic once more.

"You are the one who prepares Pleroma's salvation. Your very existence inspires them and prophesies their victory. For now, at least."

"......"

"We cannot trust you. Pleroma is wrong, and we cannot support you while you lend strength to such an organization. It is out of this concern that I decided I cannot be your friend. Therefore."

I looked into Ismailov's artificially blue eyes and continued.

"If, even after hearing that you would have to cease being a Pleroma, you still want to be close with me—then answer. What is Pleroma to you?"

"......"

Ismailov's pale lips stayed sealed, showing no sign of moving. It remained so long after. Only the wind blowing in from the balcony overlooking the lake garden stirred the muslin curtains. All that could be heard was that stillness.

As expected, getting him to open his mouth on a subject like this was difficult. Or perhaps the one thing he couldn't accept was being told he must cease to be a Pleroma; or he had never formed any judgment about Pleroma and thus had no answer worth giving; or he had one but withheld it for fear of my disapproval....

"Home."

"......"

I slowly raised my gaze and looked into Ismailov's eyes. There wasn't the slightest waver in them. I stared at him open-mouthed, then soon smiled. It was an answer that would cause him serious trouble if the others heard it.

"Good."

What mattered wasn't "home." What truly mattered was that he had signaled it would be alright to cease being a Pleroma. One way or another, he holds no conviction that he owes Pleroma his loyalty. Whether this scene was staged or arose naturally, of course, remains to be watched.

"I like that you answered honestly. If you had produced an answer tailored to our tastes here, I would have been disappointed. Though you don't look like the type capable of that anyway."

I finished, looking down at the bundle of materials Leo had researched.

From here on, there was something to be careful about in conversing with him. One wrong turn of phrase, and my words could easily be misread as a condescending offer: 'answer my questions and I'll be your friend.'

It must be made clear. I am not spending time with him because he answered. I am not magnanimously deigning to become his friend as a reward for answering. I had no desire to sell my feelings for information, nor to make light of the weight riding on a person's heartbeat. Feelings are not a thing that can be traded. He, too, must know that—and he will feel it. If the first button is fastened wrong and you keep buttoning anyway, even he would inevitably sense that the relationship was built fundamentally askew somewhere. And who could predict what results would follow from that? The easy sweet-talk of the moment is precisely the shortsighted choice. It becomes the fastest possible decision to demolish boundless possibility with my own hands. Now that things have come to this, the best course is to dissolve everything into a truthful relationship.

"Can you give me certainty?"

"......"

"I don't imagine you can break free of Pleroma in a single stroke. Your fate is, for now, firmly bound to them, and I know that no one's power can easily dismantle that—whether you became a Pleroma by your own will or by another's. So right now, I want to return to somewhere more fundamental and gain certainty there."

Ismailov blinked. Watching those eyes, I chose my words once more. May I trust you? That question is meaningless. This person doesn't have the luxury of trusting even himself. Odds are high he doesn't even know what trusting is. Whatever he answers, so long as verification and judgment of truth rest in my hands, my labor is required all the same no matter what I ask. In this moment, I had to use the most basic and direct phrasing he could understand. Even if it was a question whose answer would be easy to fabricate.

"Do you have any intention of harming us?"

"I don't know."

To ask a question that would draw an automatic 'no' from anyone, and to receive this answer instead—I could picture the reason why. I shook my head and asked once more.

"What I want now is not the unpredictable possibilities that might arise from the will of your leadership or other adults, but the answer your own heart dictates. Do you not even know which way your true feelings lean? Let me ask again. If you truly don't know this time either, then say you don't know. Do you wish to dispose of me and those people over there according to Pleroma's will?"

Ismailov slowly closed and opened his eyes, as if weighing the meaning of the words. He looked around—starting with me, then along the mages standing at the room's edge. The end of that gaze was me again. He studied my face for a long while, blinking, then answered evenly.

"No."

"......"

Good. Whether this too was a staged scene or sincere is now mine to find out—but he now holds a will that he shares with me. My guess is that he's hardly the sort capable of strategic thinking, but whether he harbors dark designs or not, this present resolve becomes the wellspring that will drive him while he's in my charge. To sum it up in one line: with his goal and future now taking clearer shape, he has gained an incentive to converse with me more earnestly.

Now, for safety's sake, one final check. I hadn't wanted to verify a person's heart with a number—that is, I hadn't opened it earlier for fear it would obstruct a truthful conversation—but given who the counterpart was, inspection was necessary. I took a deep breath and opened his Favorability window.

"......"

The moment I faced the number written there, I lost my words. Even what I was supposed to be doing was pushed briefly from my mind. I don't know how many minutes passed. Having stared blankly at nothing but the glowing number, I slowly shifted my focus to the eyes behind it.

"...Good. Shall we go for a walk?"

***

"You're out of your mind."

"You say that to me a lot."

I let out a hollow laugh, turning away from Leo, who had closed in as if to grab me by the collar. Which is when I noticed the chill at my back. I glanced at the balcony railing against my spine and the grass below, and confirmed I was surrounded on all sides. Meanwhile, Leo, entirely unbowed, tilted his head and sneered.

"A walk? With a Pleroma who shows abnormal reactions to you?"

Mm. I have no particular intention of defending Ismailov. I barely know him yet, and I'm in the position of having to learn who he is myself, so I have neither material nor motivation for a defense. But before I could open my mouth, Leo pressed me once more.

"That person may not simply want to be your friend. Anyone can see something's off."

"Eh, isn't he Heike's type of case? Why go that far...."

When Elias, behind us, tossed that in, Leo's head whipped around.

"Are you taking the Pleroma's side?"

"No—I don't like him either, but we haven't even properly talked to him and we don't know how the guy was raised, so I don't want to run my mouth carelessly. But... ah, never mind, the alarm was pretty intense, I'll give you that~"

Elias smirked and waved his hand in a carry on, don't mind me gesture—shoving even the last lifeline square into Leo's back. I quickly signaled Elias with my eyes for help, but he wouldn't take the beer glass he'd brought from his lips, just kept drinking. I looked at Leo's chilly face turning back toward me and conceded readily.

"So that's your judgment. Honestly, I partly agree."

At that answer, Leo grabbed his own neck and started staring at the sky. The one to collapse first might not be me, with all my weight on the railing, but Leo, with his climbing blood pressure. I immediately added an explanation.

"Even so, it's not in the direction you're all worried about. On this one, no matter how I look at it, I'm right."

"Are you kidding? How can you be sure?"

How can I be sure—you're asking that of me, who did nothing but film romance right up until I came here? Signals like that would be caught first by the person who had to render illusory emotions into seamless reality. And even setting work aside, whatever category of experience you name, I'll have more of it than you. I feel like we had a similar conversation last year too....

"......"

I stole a glance at Leo's signature expression—the one reserved for people talking nonsense—and exhaled a sigh.

Whatever the case, after checking his Favorability, my thinking shifted somewhat. Ismailov's reactions did resemble Heike's, but there's a clear difference. The Favorability I'd read at our first meeting yesterday—stored away for reference—and the Favorability I read mid-conversation today differ on the order of heaven and earth.

For a simple 'wants to be friends,' the change was starker than anything I saw with Heike. And we hadn't even entered a proper conversation yet. Judging by the way this system discreetly veiled the Favorability popup from me, I suspect it was exercising restraint so I wouldn't be shocked. A correct judgment. I was more shocked than at any Favorability I have ever seen.

'I know I shouldn't lean too heavily on the Heike precedent.'

Similar grain, but a different person—so the reactions are bound to differ. It may simply be that Ismailov, having been so severely isolated, was deeply moved even by a brief conversation meant to confirm his sincerity. Still, no matter how I turn it over, that was no ordinary rate of increase, so it's safer to keep a hypothesis on file. And my hypothesis includes none whatsoever of the possibility Leo and Elias worry over—the one Mecklenburg dredged up just to tease me.

What made his Favorability climb so steeply? Against whatever future may come, that is what I must now determine precisely.

"If you're that worried... look, even supposing it were that, is it really something to worry about? If it bothers you that much, let's ask Narce how Ismailov thinks of me. He might be able to answer at least that much."

Leo didn't reply, maintaining the same sullen stare. This wasn't working. I offered a more practical reason—one that, in truth, held a half share in what was driving my behavior.

"We can't leave Ismailov to the guard mages all day. They'll eventually be summoned by the government to report on today's events. And besides—don't you need to ask him about what you researched?"

Askanian locks Ismailov in a room, drops by briefly, and vanishes... that is ample grounds for censure. Therefore, whether it's holding tea time with him, running around, reading books, whatever—even if it's a vow of silence—I do need to keep him with me for long stretches.

Leo held his sulky expression, then asked in a resigned voice.

"Why did you make that face at the end?"

"The end?"

"You were frozen for quite a while."

He seems to mean when I checked the Favorability. I shook my head.

"It's nothing. It was actually on the list of things I meant to tell you all, but never mind now.... Anyway, we need to check on what you mentioned, so let's go get Narce."

"Forget it. You must have your reasons for judging it that way."

Hm? What's gotten into him? Just as I was about to pat his shoulder and tell him good thinking, Leo snorted with a let's not even expression.

"Though honestly, this one time, I don't find you convincing."

"......"

***

The only one who talks to me like that is this bastard.

Is a New Human royal high schooler even allowed to say that to an Old Human twenty-something? I consider it outrageous.

'...I'm in a New Human high schooler's body, so I'll let it slide.'

"Going on a dawn picnic with a Pleroma. What fun."

Elias started sniping at Ismailov from behind. Me, Elias, Leo, Narce, plus Mecklenburg and Ismailov—we were strolling the grounds of Nymphenburg Palace. I hadn't wanted to call a senior to this gathering, but in case another heartbeat report went out, I'd had no choice but to bring along the one I found easiest to handle. Perhaps because he'd been half dragged here, Mecklenburg didn't look particularly pleased either.

At any rate, we would lay out a spot to sit in front of the lake. Narce smiled at Elias's remark. I turned my head toward Elias and said:

"I told you there was no need to come, and yet here you are. Senior Mecklenburg and Narce are all I need."

"Which is exactly why I had to come. It's human nature to do the opposite of what you're told."

Elias laughed, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. For some reason, there was a sound of glass clinking against glass. When Leo and I grimaced in unison, Elias waved us off—eyes front.

After a long stretch of silent walking, the lake appeared. The air was warm enough now even for a nighttime lakeside outing. Watching the black ripples, I tossed Ismailov an idle remark to loosen the mood.

"Have you ever been fishing?"

"No."

Everyone exchanged glances. He was capable of answering small talk like this? I spoke without letting my surprise show.

"I see. It's fun—a shame. Try it if you ever find yourself at a river."

"Yes."

Ismailov began answering promptly, every time. Elias widened his eyes and shot me a look. I found it fascinating too.

We sat down in a spot that was serviceable, if entirely devoid of atmosphere. Mecklenburg—who as an Imperial mage had rolled around in the dirt countless times—now made a disgruntled face, apparently reluctant to sit on grass.

'I'll never fully figure this one out either.'

Ignoring his question about whether there was anything to sit on, I passed a long while in idle chatter with Ismailov, then gradually brought out the important question.

"There's something I'm curious about."

"Yes."

"You called Pleroma your home."

"Yes."

Though he only repeats yes and no like an answering machine, even this is enormous progress. Anyway—let's think it through again. This guy is older than the thirteen-year-old Pleroma organization. At first I wondered whether Pleroma had compounded magic power to create a new human, but... the age doesn't line up, and manufacturing humans is possible only through the Imperial government. That technology is managed in this country as rigorously as the Emperor's own safety; if Pleroma had stolen it, they would never have bothered kidnapping Imperial children—they'd have manufactured people themselves and used them as blood stock.

Just from Ismailov's age and the span of Pleroma's existence, it's self-evident: Pleroma picked up someone else's child, one already in the world, and made him into this. Interpreting "brothers" with Gabriele as blood kinship doesn't hold—their very ethnicities visibly differ. Moreover, if Pleroma is the one who attached the name Mikhail, then all the more, whatever common denominator lies between them must have been created afterward.

And yet this guy carries himself like someone who has spent a very long time inside Pleroma. The evidence: his reactions, as though everything were his first time. Does that mean Pleroma tampered with his mind? How? By the look of things, even Narce couldn't easily do such a thing.

"How did you live before entering Pleroma?"

"......"

As expected, a heavy question draws no answer. I may need to ask several more times. As the silence stretched, Elias abruptly spoke.

"He's our age too, right?"

"Yeah."

Since when were they close enough for "he"...? I glanced at Ismailov, and felt relieved seeing him watching only the ants in the grass, showing no reaction. But the relief didn't last long. There came the sound of glass being drawn out, and Elias produced a beer glass and slammed it down on the ground. Leo's and Mecklenburg's mouths fell open.

"Hey, you—?!"

Elias downed his beer and pulled a string of additional glasses from his bag. I could see Narce wearing a soulless smile.

"He's not talking yet because we're not close. Right? And for getting close with kids our age, nothing beats this."

"What are you talking about?! Getting close isn't the objective—forget it. He may be a Pleroma, but he came under a negotiated agreement—don't you know we have to maintain minimum safety standards?"

"Nope."

Elias placated Leo with zero sincerity. Mecklenburg, aghast, looked back and forth between us as if watching lunatics—then sank into solitary thought, and nodded with the face of a man arriving at an epiphany. I seized his shoulder hard and cast Sound Insulation Magic.

"What exactly are you agreeing with, Senior?"

"His Excellency Mecklenburg simply knows a thing or two."

He seemed to have guessed the exchange from my behavior without even breaking the Sound Insulation Magic. Elias grinned and held a glass out to Ismailov. Ismailov only looked back and forth between it and Elias in silence.

"Let's see how well the Pleroma Jesus can hold his drink."