[785] Alpha Fish (3)
* * *
Uorin's room.
The Ex Machina team sat in a line of chairs while a woman stood, the center of attention.
When Shirone and his group entered, Uorin — who had been watching from a corner — pressed a finger to her lips and stepped forward.
"You're here. We just started."
Shirone turned to look at the woman.
'That's the Alpha Fish.'
He'd expected something hysterical, but she stood with her eyes demurely cast downward, restless.
"Surprisingly ordinary," he said.
"No."
Minerva watched the woman with a serious look.
"That woman… is the same type as me."
A woman born under the fate of a witch.
There's no sure sign that makes someone a witch, but those born with that destiny share a common temperament.
'An aura that stokes desire.'
A look that makes you want to torment, to break, to watch someone clutch the covers and cry — an impression that seems to demand cruelty.
Uorin, who had once carried the witch's look herself, felt the same as Minerva.
"That's right, she has the witch's bearing. But surprisingly, she isn't a witch. She's running a small flower shop now."
Minerva narrowed her eyes.
"Not a witch…?"
If destiny could be so easily defied, Minerva wouldn't have created .
"How did that happen?" Shirone asked.
"First… let's observe." Uorin said.
When Iruki joined the Ex Machina team, Uorin turned to her and nodded.
Gudio, taking the cue, spoke.
"Yus Abella."
Minerva's eyebrows twitched.
'A survivor of the Yus clan?'
Once the gypsy tribe that vied for the top rank, it was now said to have been wiped out.
"Yes, speak."
Abella's voice tightened.
"Don't be nervous. This isn't an interrogation. We called you to confirm a few things. First — you know why you came to the Imperial Capital, right?"
"Yes, I heard. The mustache — no, Uncle Habitz…"
Abella looked up for the first time.
"He's a very bad man."
Her face showed that she understood Habitz was evil in her head, but her heart couldn't accept it.
Iruki said, "Yes. He's killed countless people, is still killing, and will keep killing. You know about the mass burial of seventy thousand, right? We need your help."
"W-what can I do…?" Mais asked.
"Do you think Habitz shouldn't die?" Iruki pressed.
Abella hurriedly shook her head.
"No! If he did wrong, he should be punished! I think killing people is wrong!"
Iruki exhaled slowly.
'Witch's fate, I get it now.'
Subtly, Ex Machina had already put her in a position where they were pressuring her.
"You can be honest. Even if you love Habitz, we won't harm you."
Gypsies have no homeland, but for someone who spent her childhood in the Gustaf Empire, Kashan was enemy territory.
'And this is in front of the Empress — of course she's nervous.'
Abella steadied her breath, composed herself, and fixed her gaze on Iruki.
"No. I think Habitz deserves to die."
Strangely, the words did not pierce her heart.
"Now I'll explain." Uorin stepped forward.
"The first time the two met was fourteen years ago. Habitz was twenty-seven, and Miss Abella was nine."
All eyes turned to her.
"The Gustaf royal house's tradition of kin-slaying. Habitz was notorious for brutally killing many siblings. Some said the emperor's decision to send Habitz the Seventeenth to Arkaba, the empire's far east, wasn't strategic. Maybe… even Habitz the Sixteenth feared his sons."
Abella had never heard this before.
"In the end, Habitz the Seventeenth killed 781 of his siblings and became emperor. Over three resets, the ways he killed them were always different. He killed his siblings in 2,343 different ways."
No wonder it was chaos.
"And back then — fourteen years ago by the Great Purification calendar — the method Habitz used was…" Uorin's gaze turned cold.
"He tied his brother and the brother's wife to the ceiling, then boiled their children and served them at a banquet."
Abella trembled as if struck by lightning.
"Fourteen years ago." Arkaba, the empire's far eastern stronghold.
"Argh! You bastard! Stop! How can you do this and still call yourself a human? Heaven will punish you!"
Habitz's half-brother hung from the ceiling, coughing up blood and screaming.
The wife beside him had already gone mad, laughing grotesquely and soiling herself.
"Hmm, which cut is this?" Habitz sliced the meat with a knife, speared it with a fork, and examined it.
"Stop it!"
Habitz at twenty-seven looked much the same as after he became emperor, only with a stylish mustache.
"Fondue." He dipped the meat in the broth, chewed with relish, and his brother sobbed.
"Please… I beg you. Become emperor. I'll help you. I'll make you emperor somehow. Please stop…"
"Emperor?" Habitz set down his utensils and wiped his lips.
"My brother's odd. What's so fun about being emperor? That stuff's unbearably boring."
"Then why…? Even your nephew…?"
Habitz looked up at the ceiling.
"The process of becoming emperor is the fun part."
"Ughhh!" His brother realized the truth.
Though dozens of siblings still sharpened their blades, the empire's emperor had already been decided.
"Kill them. We're done here."
"I'll eat you for dinner. Your wife will be dessert."
Seeing that smug, fishy grin, Habitz's brother felt the world spin.
"You bastard! You'll get the same fate! My brothers will execute you! I curse you! Even if I die, I'll pray you suffer in hell!"
Habitz yawned.
"Boring."
He snapped his fingers; the ropes binding his brother snapped and he fell twenty meters.
A thud marked another corpse, and blood slowly spread from the sprawled body.
Habitz asked a maid, "Anything interesting?"
No loyal retainer brave enough to speak plainly nor any sycophant remained at his side.
A terrified maid trembled and answered, "Sir, the brother's household retainers remain. They're in the underground prison; perhaps you could—"
"Torture's boring too, after seven years old."
The maid's shoulders shook.
"I'm sorry! I failed to understand Your Majesty's deep intention and presumptuously suggested it! Please forgive me!"
Habitz stared at her.
"Is something sad?"
She lifted her face and hurriedly shook her head.
"No? Ah, no. I'm not sad."
"Then why are you crying? Are you afraid of me?"
People around Habitz hated being asked questions.
'What should I answer…'
If she said she was afraid, she'd be dead; if she said she wasn't afraid, she'd be dead.
Fear won out.
"I'm scared! Ah! No, I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I, a mere servant…!"
As her mind grew dizzy and her words faltered, Habitz stepped closer.
"You're scared of me? Why?"
Up close, his face — no, his eyes — were clear and beautiful.
"I'm afraid I'll die." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Hmm. You're that afraid of dying?" Habitz twirled his mustache, thought a moment, nodded, and said, "Then I won't kill you."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes. That's enough, right? I won't kill you, so no one will kill you."
She had never felt such profound relief.
"Thank you! Thank you!" she bowed repeatedly as Habitz put on his coat.
"I'm bored. I need to go out and have fun. Oh, and take the brother's retainers — pull out all their kneecaps."
The maid went pale.
"M-me?"
"If it's too annoying, tell the minister. Take the brother's property and retainers. Two hundred or so, maybe. Play with them until you're sick of it."
The maid stared blankly while Habitz turned at the doorway and winked.
"Live smiling. Enjoy yourself."
The door closed on a room that smelled of blood.
After a two-hour carriage ride from Arkaba Castle, Habitz arrived at the East Sea.
It was known for fishing, but when word spread that Habitz was coming, every noble fled.
"Quiet place. Lucky day, huh?"
In Arkaba, there wasn't a soul — noble or commoner — who didn't know Habitz's name.
He settled in a secluded spot in the forest and cast his line without bait.
"Haaah." His languid yawn made his boredom obvious.
Habitz's playground was always deserted.
"Everything's dull lately." What was he waiting for, alone in a place no one visited?
"Anything fun around?"
This was before he met Gustaf the Fourth.
"Boo. Maa. Ooh." He made odd mouth-shapes, squinting at the world…
"Arghhhhh!" — then suddenly snapped his head and screamed, breaking the silence.
"Boo. Maa. Ooh."
A girl's voice came from behind.
"Hm?" Habitz turned to see a dirty girl in gypsy-style clothes, exaggeratedly shaping her lips.
"Boo. Maa. Ooh. What's that sound?"
He blinked and pointed to the sea. "The sound of fish."
"Hahaha! Fish don't make sounds! And you can't catch fish here! You're dumb, mister!"
"Mr.?" Habitz pointed to himself with his finger. "I'm not a mister."
"You are! You have a mustache. Haha! Mustache-uncle, mustache-uncle!"
Habitz smacked his lips and held his rod. "I hope I catch a shark."
The girl grinned and came up, tugging his mustache.
"Ouch!"
"Wow, it's a real mustache?"
Habitz dabbed at his eyes as if he'd been stung and straightened his mustache. "This is mine. And you're a girl, so when you grow up you won't have hair like this."
A shadow flickered across the girl's face. "I know that. I know what a girl is."
"Do you? What is a girl?" He asked.
She brightened and sat by the water. "Mister, I'm bored. Want to play?"
Habitz thought for a moment and nodded. "Okay. What shall we play?"
"Doll play. You're the monster, I'm the pretty woman running from the monster."
She produced a rag doll stitched from cloth. "Here. This is the monster."
The "monster" was just a man exaggerated in features for the doll.
"All right, I'll be the monster." Habitz took the doll, stamped it on the ground, and mimicked a monster's voice.
"Graaaar! Try running away! I'll chew you up with my sharp teeth!"
"Eeeeek! Save me! It's a monster!"
Habitz moved the doll and chased her. "Stop right there! You beautiful—!"
Then he suddenly stopped and asked, "Hold on. What's your name?"
The girl stepped out of the game, looked up at Habitz, and bared her white teeth.
"Yus. Yus Abella."