Beron Problem (2)
Even as Kesia's ministers gave their political reports, Fermi remained trapped in a solitary mind.
"...So, under interdepartmental agreement we sent an official letter. To the—what is it—International Trial Department."
The ministers, their heads hazy from the effects of Angel, spoke with lazy composure even though every second counted.
"This took a lot of effort. Ever since the late king's death, there's a mountain of work to handle."
Fermi's eyes narrowed.
'How much of that drug did they give them?'
Used correctly, Angel dulls pain enough to permit ordinary life.
It wouldn't eliminate everything—there would still be intolerable discomfort—but—
'Why do they keep ignoring the dosage!'
It was ridiculous that people who couldn't even tolerate that were sitting as ministers.
'Huu.'
Fermi swallowed his irritation.
"Thank you for your hard work. What's the situation with Ranstin's whereabouts? We need intel within six hours."
No one answered.
When Fermi looked up, the ministers sat with slack, dull expressions and closed mouths.
"Is there a problem?"
"Well, since arriving at the temple we haven't had a single day off. Everyone's exhausted."
Exhausted?
'How annoying.'
People have limits, yes—but weren't these ministers the heads of their departments?
The chief secretary spoke.
"Sire, the workload is too much. They're all spent. At this rate they won't hold out."
'Right.'
That was defeat.
If they'd simply admitted it and swallowed their pride, he might not be this angry.
'So what do I do about it?'
Hoping a problem will resolve itself without the manpower to back it up is a kind of violence.
You're asking others to do it because you want someone else to.
'It's blackmail disguised as solidarity. If you don't want the ship to sink, you must sacrifice more.'
The paradox of organized society: the hardest-working people suffer most.
'Should I discard one of them?'
One minister could be replaced, but he had to account for the bureaucracy's overall efficiency.
More importantly, time was short.
'Beating them to the door would feel like gaining a thousand years of life, but...'
That wouldn't actually solve anything, so Fermi only offered his habitual polite smile.
"That's right. I pushed too hard. I know how much you all do for the kingdom."
There was no warmth in it.
Knowing they truly believed they were doing their best made Fermi feel sick.
'Hold it.'
That humans are self-centered was something he'd understood long before he learned to read.
'It's fine. I'll do it. No need to blame others. I do this because I want to.'
It wasn't a question of whether something could be done; in this world, you simply had to make it happen.
'That's victory.'
Fermi revised his plan.
'I'll leave finding the Gitaruman to the staff. Each department's diplomatic network is crucial. I can handle the rest. Prioritize the six tasks and—
23 minutes.
'No. Cut it to 18. Review each country's diplomatic records, then cross-reference with Omega 999's files and—
At that moment Fermi's head spun.
'How... can "we're tired" be said so easily?'
'Winning is supposed to be hard. Even a passerby knows that. You fight someone who has the same time as you to gain an edge. But you lot are just...'
Fermi clenched his fist.
'Be cold. If you let emotions sway you, you'll botch the job. We can't sink here.'
The late King Manolka had defined Fermi like that.
Capable—someone who didn't sway with circumstances and who could endure until the desired objective was achieved.
"Skip the miscellaneous tasks—" Fermi began slowly.
"They aren't important. Focus all your effort on finding Ranstin. Use the rest of your time as you see fit. Thank you for your work."
"All right."
With nothing more to gain, the ministers left with bland expressions.
Alone, Fermi bowed his head.
"Kuu—!"
His emotion sickness had flared.
'Damn it.'
He couldn't give Angel because he needed to keep his brain functioning at one hundred percent.
Shirone's Agape could postpone the symptoms, but that option wasn't available to Fermi.
'I mustn't get entangled in any way.'
He had to steer things with 0.1 percent falsehood and 99.9 percent truth.
As a desperate measure, Fermi gripped his fourth finger hard and twisted his body.
Bones cracked with a sickening snap and pain shot through his head, but it steadied him for the moment.
"Huu."
With no thought of seeking treatment, he slumped against his desk.
'Mother.'
How did she endure it?
When everyone looked out only for themselves, what let a single person continue a lonely fight was—
'The law of large numbers.'
She had a perspective beyond ordinary criminals.
'I was the anxious one. My view was narrow, so I grew fearful and petty.' You can't predict exactly what a person will do next.
'But as the sample grows... statistics become more precise, and a population can be traced into predictable patterns.'
'She was a prophet.'
Yolga's wide field of view encompassed virtually all of humanity, and her judgments bordered on prophecy.
'She even knew her own death. She must have seen the end of human history.'
That was why she'd left her son's side.
As his emotions calmed, Fermi slowly stood and healed his broken hand.
He wrapped a bandage and glanced at the watch on his wrist; his eyes went cold.
"...It's Habitz time."
"Kikiki ki!"
Habitz laughed like a madman.
"You don't know, do you? Who I'll kill? Huh? You'll never know. Because I don't know either."
His excitement was a form of anger.
After his attempt to assassinate the King of Corona failed, in desperation he'd killed a maid.
It didn't break the rules, but the shame of making the game boring stung him.
'That's already past.'
Habitz didn't cling to the past; he intended to use it.
"Who is it? Who will die?"
The tension of not even knowing himself grew as the appointed time neared.
And finally—
'Found you!'
In the Delta headquarters' kitchen, a man carrying luggage caught his eye.
Elikia activated.
"Today's task... kuh!"
As Vanishing broke, the man felt his neck separate from his body.
"Hah! Hah!"
So, now what?
'Wizard.'
The moment the location was locked, she appeared, and Habitz licked his lips.
"Come. This time I will—"
At that instant, Habitz realized from Elikia's signal that the Wizard hadn't moved.
His face crumpled.
"Kuu—"
Because Shirone stood before the Wizard.
When Elikia's light washed over Delta HQ—
"One, two, three..."
The heads of state froze where they stood, unable to breathe for ten seconds.
"He's dead."
The kitchen man's throat had been cut.
"Huu, that's done. It's done now. For the next hour—"
Someone sighed in relief.
"Damn it. How long do we have to keep this up? I'll have a heart attack before long."
Someone else grumbled.
"Oppa."
The Wizard said to Shirone.
"No—Master."
Shirone stayed silent.
While Tormia arranged Code One—the meeting of kings—he had gone to find the Wizard.
'I had to meet her at least once.'
But seeing her, he didn't know what to say.
'First...'
She had grown stronger.
Even after finishing her training she had been perfect, but now there was a look as if she'd crossed yet another barrier.
Yet that intensity softened when her eyes met Shirone's face.
"I'm sorry."
The attempt on Habitz had failed.
She was still fighting, of course, but it wasn't the result Shirone wanted.
"I'll take responsibility—"
"Wizard."
Shirone cut in. The Wizard shrugged as if guilty.
"I'm sorry."
She was a child beyond reason; the only thing she could offer was sincerity.
"I stained your hands with blood because of me."
One time had been necessary, but how desperately had he hoped that that one time would be the last for her life?
"I dragged you into hell. So stop now. Leave the battlefield."
The Wizard was angry.
'You're disappointed. If I'd been just a little stronger—'
Still, she could not refuse.
'It's over.'
For a moment Shirone felt the relief of being free from Habitz—
'No.'
Her steps halted.
'This is a dangerous gamble. We can't end it here.'
The gods' frequency.
The instant she unlocked the lock around her heart, Habitz would learn everything.
'You can't escape.'
Not until the truth was revealed.
Standing where he'd committed the murder, Habitz remained motionless, sharpening his senses.
'It's blocked.'
Just as something tried to be sensed through the gods' frequency, the Wizard shut her heart.
'You said you loved me.'
If her heart leaned toward Shirone, the game would automatically tilt in Habitz's favor.
'No— even a trace of tenderness and my heart would tilt falsely.'
If that happened—
Even Habitz couldn't imagine what chaos might erupt.
The Wizard spoke.
"The mission isn't over. Give me one last chance."
Shirone understood why she'd changed her tone, but he shook his head firmly.
"I'm not blaming you. I can't let you play this game with Satan. Hand it over to me."
"It's not your responsibility, Master. From the moment the assassination failed, this has been my fight."
Shirone looked at her with pity.
"I know why you're like this. But from now on—"
The instant he grasped the Wizard's wrist, an avatar of the merciless deity appeared and writhed violently.
"?...Chogong."
There was no other choice.
If he held out any longer, her heart's gate might truly open.
'Baekja's monstrous strength!'
The Wizard poured everything into the most powerful blow she could strike at Shirone.
Bang!
A frame vanished; air surged and the building's walls blew outward.
"Hah. Hah."
The Wizard stared ahead.
'I'm sorry, Master.'
When the dust settled, Shirone emerged wrapped in a veil of light.
"Yeah, you're really strong."
The Wizard stood stunned that there wasn't a scratch, and Shirone smiled bitterly.
"But who do you think taught you?"
"If manifestation technique is the emergence of the self, then Shirone was her superego."
"Honestly, if I hadn't known, I would have been taken. But I know you well. So—"
The Wizard's heart thumped fast.
'I'm glad.'
Just having her blow blocked eased half of his cosmic burden.
'My one elder I can always lean on.'
"So then—"
After a moment's thought, Shirone spoke.
"This time I'll follow your wish. But win—no matter what. A disciple of Yahweh mustn't lose to Satan, right?"
The Wizard clenched her fist.
'Done!'
She had proven it.
Still, watching the joyful Wizard made Shirone's heart ache.
'A seven-year-old who has surpassed limits.'
She'd defended it, but the technique was something no one else could mimic.
Shirone offered one last piece of advice.
"You can do it. Whatever it is. Right?"
The Wizard turned the words over, her face going cool, then she lifted one corner of her mouth.
"Yes."
Perfect mastery.