[146] The Name Parrot (4)
Tess found Shirone's quick shifts in mood more unsettling than reassuring. From what she'd seen so far, it was clear how rationally he viewed the world.
Shirone wasn't the sort to bend a situation to match his feelings. Nor was he cold-blooded.
He simply knew how to control his emotions; countless conflicts were surely raging inside him.
Tess worried that Shirone's current state might work against them in a fight.
"Shirone, don't worry about it. We're not going to fight—we're going to rescue Zis's sister. We'll see for ourselves what Marsha is really like."
Shirone forced a smile. He knew what Tess feared, and precisely because of that he hardened his resolve.
If the woman he saw with his own eyes turned out to be truly evil, he would set aside everything and take her down with all he had.
"Don't worry. I won't make a mistake."
He pushed the words away and cut through the night air.
Forced Breakthrough (1)
There was no route from the west to the hideout in the north. The indigenous autonomous zone sat in the center.
Those who'd kidnapped Yuna had taken a wide detour around Toa Mountain to reach the hideout. By the time they arrived, dawn was breaking.
In a shabby, warehouse-like building, Palkoa sat in a chair. His pupils were dilated; he stared vacantly, and the floor at his feet was littered with spit-out loop husks.
His men opened the warehouse door and bowed to Palkoa before throwing a sack containing Yuna onto the floor.
The sack thudded down, but no scream leaked out. Inside, though, an intense trembling could be felt.
From the violent shaking alone, you could tell how terrified she was.
Palkoa nodded, and a subordinate drew a knife and slit the sack. Like opening a silkworm cocoon, Yuna—slick with tears and sweat—was revealed.
Terror filled Yuna's eyes as she looked around. The fact that they'd run all night to get here was evident in her state.
A man who didn't seem right peered down at her with dilated pupils, and at the entrance men with frightening faces had blocked any escape.
"P-please… please let me live."
"You lot, get out."
The men, who knew from experience what happened when they defied their leader, opened the door and left the moment Palkoa ordered it.
Left alone with Yuna, Palkoa chewed loop and moved closer.
"You're even better than I expected. Do you know why you're here?"
"I—I don't. Please send me home."
"Sorry, can't do that. I plan to make you the most miserable person in the world. Because your brother sold you."
Yuna froze as if struck. Still, in her heart she trusted Zis. What kind of brother would sell his sister to someone like this?
"That can't be! My brother cherishes me above all!"
"Is that so? Then why are you here now? I gave Zis something wonderful, and I got you as a bonus."
Palkoa didn't think he was lying. After all, he'd spared her life—wasn't that worth a fortune?
Besides, he'd even given Zis time to miss Amy; he considered himself Zis's benefactor.
"That can't be! My brother wouldn't sell me!"
Yuna clutched her chest and shouted to stave off the fear. The shock of being sold by her brother was worse than the terror of being dragged to an unknown place.
"Send me to my brother! I'll ask him myself!"
"Hey, little girl. You don't seem to understand what's happening. You can't go home. You'll never go home. You've got two choices: die by my hand, or kill yourself."
"No! That can't be—! Aaaah!"
Palkoa pounced like a surprise attack and seized Yuna's wrist. He yanked her up with a force she couldn't resist, forcing her into his arms.
"Get away, you bastard!"
After savoring the frail girl's resistance for a moment, Palkoa twisted Yuna's arm and spun her around. He clamped her cheeks in his hands and threatened her.
"Don't waste your strength this early. You'll have more than enough chances to scream later."
At that moment, the warehouse door opened and someone entered. A cold voice fell low inside the room.
"Palkoa. Human trafficking is against regulations."
"Freeman."
Palkoa grimaced. The only man in the Angmu Mercenary Band who outranked him, Agado Freeman, watched the scene with hollow eyes.
Over 190 centimeters tall and wearing a white long coat, he looked pale to the point of sickness. His eyebrows seemed shaved, and his lips were thin and ashen.
Once the deputy leader of the Angmu bandits—the organization's predecessor—Freeman was a master of Skima and used techniques that employed magical rounds. Even without supernatural skills, his raw physicality was said to overwhelm Lucas; that was common knowledge in the group.
"What's this all of a sudden? You weren't anywhere to be seen before. Did money fall into your lap?"
Palkoa snapped with displeasure. Since the Angmu mercenary days, Freeman had been the undisputed second-in-command, but Palkoa had been given free rein within the group.
Since they'd come to the island, the conflict between the deputy leader and the field commander had worsened. Freeman wanted to keep the old mercenary rules even though they'd degenerated into a thieves' gang, and that pull for order caused friction.
Feeding the dozens labeled as traitors required huge funds. Freeman had no answer for that.
The man who'd led such an organization for five years was Palkoa. He'd driven out the island's old guard by force and kept the group afloat with the money left from distributing loop.
That was why Freeman had tolerated Palkoa's atrocities.
But this time it had gone too far. Even under the Angmu name, there were lines you didn't cross.
Freeman might be little more than a figurehead, but he consistently enforced a policy of cracking down on abduction and plunder carried out with violence.
"You know the organization's rules, right? Human trafficking degrades the standing of the Angmu mercenary band."
"Angmu mercenary band? Since when are we living off past glories? Look at what we're doing now. If it weren't for the money I bring in, would the group even have survived?"
"You're insane, Palkoa. I won't deny you did things for the organization in your own way. But understand this: the person who leads the organization is unquestionably me."
"I don't care about that. I don't recognize you. Didn't you always know that? You can't come now and pretend to be the boss."
A cold killing intent flowed from Freeman as he watched Palkoa's brazen behavior. It was so intense that weaker creatures would die just from being exposed to it.
Palkoa, however, drew that murky aura in like a blade pressed into his flesh. It hurt, but he received it without changing his expression.
"Ha ha ha, oh my, how terrifying."
Freeman was at a loss. With a man this belligerent, pain and anger would only make things worse.
'Has he really become a stray dog like this?'
Even without loop, Palkoa had always been driven by desire. That desire fit mercenary life because it leaned toward battle and killing.
But on the island, running a bar, he was a man whose instincts were frustrated. Chewing loop, drinking, and carousing with women couldn't sate the core of his madness.
"P-please… please."
As Yuna trembled and begged, Freeman looked at Palkoa and spoke again.
"Do you really have to go this far? Have you abandoned Angmu's pride as well?"
"Pride? Hey, let me tell you something. The Angmu mercenary band is finished. The commander's gone, the men have their limits. Give up and come over to my side."
Palkoa pressed his face into Yuna's nape as if to show off. Still, Freeman didn't move. Palkoa had now revealed murderous intent.
If he moved, a fight would start. If that happened, one of the two pillars that had held Angmu together would fall.
If they truly clashed, no one could predict the outcome. But Palkoa was confident Freeman couldn't do anything to him.
"Why don't you go? I'll tell your men to give you some money. You should learn to admit defeat and enjoy life."
"Oh my, what a merry life you lead."
A female voice came with the opening of the door. The sound struck Palkoa like a stake through the heart; he turned his head. Before he could focus, a fist slammed into his jaw and spun his face away.
"Grrk!"
A powerful kick followed, smashing into Palkoa's midsection. He landed on his rear, and Yuna's legs gave out as well and she collapsed.
"Damn. What rotten luck."
Palkoa spat and slowly rose. The reason his animal reflexes hadn't avoided the two attacks was that he'd unconsciously restrained a counterattack.
Clay Marsha. Once the commander who'd ruled over hundreds of mercenaries, Marsha stood there.
"Is she really the commander?"
"Is there a fake commander? You mutt's had a few years to go soft."
Palkoa showed no anger. He didn't even show hostility.
To the mercenaries, Marsha was different.
As the first commander of the Angmu mercenary band, elevating the group to A-rank in just a few years required more than force.
And Marsha had done it with outstanding skill. She was the only person in the organization listed as an A-rank criminal—her ability was immense.
But Palkoa didn't follow her for trivial reasons.
He defined the woman called Marsha like this:
A fallen saint.
Marsha was kind and gentle, but among those she embraced, it was no exaggeration to say almost none were normal.
Those abandoned by family, those born with a craving for blood, those cast off by society who had no way to reveal their existence except on the battlefield.
Palkoa was one of them.
When no one treated his mental illness and everyone pushed him to the margins, Marsha had been the only one to take him in.
In the Angmu bandits, Marsha was sister and mother, the leader he could trust in any situation.
Still, even the commander's return after years without contact was infuriating. After disappearing for years, what right did she have to show up and scold him like this?
"Goddamn. Where the hell have you been hiding? You're not the leader anymore. In the time you've been gone, we've—"
"You've turned into a junkie, haven't you?"
Palkoa's face hardened. His previously unfocused pupils cleared a fraction.
He'd heard that accusation countless times over the past five years, but somehow this time it felt like the first.
A drug fiend. Had the battlefield demon he once was become a junkie?
Freeman stepped forward and bowed to Marsha.
"It's been a long time, Commander. When did you return?"
"I left as soon as I heard Lucas had been hit. He'll probably blow the hideout clean away. We'll have to clean this place up soon."
After explaining to Freeman, Marsha approached Palkoa. At her approach, Palkoa's eyes slid away as if pricked.
"Palkoa, I told you clearly. Human trafficking is not allowed."
Palkoa's brow knit. Thinking it over, he felt no shame. In his mind, all the fault belonged to Marsha, who'd abandoned the organization and left them for years.