Clatter-clatter
"Mm... ugh..."
I could hear the bus moving.
As I listened to that sound, what met my open eyes was the inside of the bus, slightly different from usual.
Had I fallen asleep earlier?
Probably I'd dozed off from the tension finally letting go not long after we got back from the branch.
The inside of the bus...
"....."
It was still wrapped in nothing but heavy silence.
Gooooo—
The deep hum of the bus's engine only made the atmosphere feel heavier.
Even I, along with a few others, still hadn't changed out of my clothes.
So that was the source of the stench I'd been smelling.
The moment I realized that, I headed for the bus corridor.
Then I stopped by my room, took a shower, changed into something decent, and went to the place where the laundry was kept.
"...Saramago?"
"Ishmael?"
There was already someone there.
I'd been asleep for quite a while, so why was she here now?
"...Looks like you're feeling a bit better?"
...No, compared to the other prisoners, Ishmael had actually come pretty quickly.
"...Hello?"
While I was lost in thought for a moment, Ishmael was looking at me with a strange expression.
"Ah, sorry, I was just thinking about something else... what were you saying?"
"...No, it's fine. You seem all right. Then I'll head back first."
With that, Ishmael returned to the corridor and headed back into the bus.
...What did she mean, all right?
And seriously, spacing out in front of someone—was I out of my mind?
...No, there was no way I was in my right mind.
My mood suddenly sank.
I didn't want to think like that.
"Ah."
Come to think of it, I was still holding the laundry.
I'd come here to leave it behind, after all.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, I quickly set the laundry down and moved my feet to head back into the bus.
When I finished what I had to do and returned to the bus interior, what greeted me was the same lingering smell of blood.
The prisoners who had caused it... aside from Ishmael, who had just come back, all of them were gone from their seats.
Had they all gone to wash up?
Judging by the situation, it seemed that Ishmael and I had been the signal for everyone else to head off and clean themselves up.
I returned to my seat and sat down.
With no one in a bus that should have been full of people, stray thoughts kept creeping in.
For example... Yuri.
If my hand had reached her at the very end,
could I have saved Yuri?
Those kinds of useless thoughts.
Tap-tap-tap
And then, just as I was thinking something similar, a prisoner who seemed to be wrestling with the same sort of thoughts returned to the bus.
"....."
Gregor usually greeted me in situations like this, but not this time.
The reason was probably... Yuri.
He'd been the one who'd tried hardest to get close to her, so the shock of her death must have hit him hard.
...I'm not really in a position to say that, am I.
I hadn't been especially close to her, but seeing someone I'd gotten used to seeing suddenly die right in front of me was still something I couldn't get used to.
Especially if that person could never come back.
I almost considered offering Gregor some words of comfort, then stopped myself.
There were several reasons.
One was that it would look strange for someone in a similar situation to offer comfort.
Another was that when someone is suffering from loss, sometimes it's better to leave them alone until the wound closes on its own.
So rather than offering clumsy comfort, it would be better to let time pass... and wait until the wound left by Yuri had healed.
For me, for Gregor, and for the other prisoners too.
Yes, so there was no need to cling to it any further.
With that, I sorted out my tangled thoughts and lay back in my seat.
I'd lain down to kill time while it dragged on, but maybe because I'd already slept earlier, I couldn't seem to fall asleep at all.
Just as I was thinking there was nothing to do, a commotion rose from behind me.
"Mr. Sinclair! Would you not join me in this chess?"
In Don Quixote's hands were a chessboard and pieces from who-knows-where.
Where did she get those? Were they in the room?
Still, chess... was it a decent way to pass the time?
"Chess? I have played it before, but..."
"Then there is no issue! Let us enjoy this chess together!"
"Ugh..."
Sinclair looked thoroughly reluctant, but he seemed to have been swept up by Don Quixote's pace and ended up playing chess against his will.
I had nothing else to do, so I decided to go watch.
Clack-clack-clack-clack
Don Quixote and Sinclair were setting the chess pieces on the board.
It seemed true that she knew the rules of chess, because the pieces were arranged in impeccable order.
"I shall take White!"
"Yes..."
With Don Quixote's spirited advance of the e2 pawn, the game began.
"Then I'll do this..."
The e7 pawn advanced two squares.
A textbook opening move.
After that, the game proceeded in textbook fashion.
They passed through a normal opening, then the stage where pieces were developed, then a few of Don Quixote's sudden antics, and by the time they reached the middlegame, the situation was smiling in Sinclair's favor.
"Tch... at this rate..."
Don Quixote, searching for some kind of solution, turned her head and spotted someone watching the game. Seemingly having found her answer, she spoke to him.
"You there! Would you grant me a moment of aid?"
"Are you speaking to me?"
"Indeed!"
Don Quixote openly asked Yi Sang to coach her.
Starting by slyly choosing White at the beginning too—she was pretty shameless.
"Don Quixote?! That's cheating!"
"Did we establish such a rule when we began? I know nothing of the sort!"
Wasn't that a little too blatantly underhanded?
Well, in any case, once Yi Sang jumped into the chess match, the situation began to reverse little by little.
"That move is not ideal."
"It is ideal."
As he started to feel the disadvantage, Sinclair also rolled his eyes around, looking for someone to ask for help.
"...F-Faust!"
"I have no intention of participating in chess. Faust is satisfied merely by observing someone carefully consider their moves."
"Pwahaha! Sinclair, you got rejected?"
"I wasn't rejected!"
At Rodion's teasing, Sinclair raised his voice.
Seeing Sinclair raise his voice was a rare sight.
"Ugh..."
Sinclair rolled his eyes again, then this time looked at me and said,
"Saramago! C-could you help me too...?"
Chess... it had been a long time since I last played, but should I?
"If you're satisfied with me, then I don't mind."
And so the situation became a little tense.
No, let me correct that. It was only similar up through the middlegame.
Soon enough, they entered the endgame, and I, along with Sinclair, was overwhelmed by Yi Sang's creative moves and ended up losing.
"My victory."
"We lost, huh..."
"Yi Sang, you're good at chess?"
"Only because I had the opportunity to learn."
...Yi Sang had a bit of a con artist streak, didn't he.
Hmm... but ending it like this felt a little unsatisfying.
"Would you like another round?"
"I am in favor!"
"If that is what you wish."
"I'd like a few more rounds too..."
Of course, chess didn't end with just one game, and so that day's chess session ended with 1 win and 5 losses.
And even that one win had been a lucky game won thanks to Don Quixote's sudden antics, so...
From now on, I should probably refrain from trying to outthink Yi Sang.
Well, I suppose there are many reasons why some people are different from the rest.
Then, after a brief nap during the branch exploration and a few rounds of chess, the sun had already set, and the thick darkness signaled the end of our work.
Soon after, we received permission to end the day's duties from Dante and went into our rooms.
I entered my room, lay down on the bed, and stared blankly at the ceiling.
.....
The surroundings were quiet to an awkward degree.
Outside, you could hear things like the thunder from Heathcliff's room or the sound of waves from Ishmael's room, but not in this room.
Tap
Judging by the soundproofing, this room was extremely well insulated... almost as if it were meant to isolate something.
Since Rodion had once complained that she could hear the thunder from Heathcliff's neighboring room, I was probably the strange one here.
Last time I was told this room was a manifestation of my psyche, but what kind of owner did this body have for such an unsettling room to come out of it?
The owner of the body and me...
...Wait, what did I just say?
As I mulled over the words I'd just spoken, a chill crept over my entire body.
"....."
In truth, I'd been feeling it for some time.
The sensation that the boundary between the body's owner and me was gradually disappearing.
After this expedition ended, I felt as though that sensation had crossed some line.
...No matter how I looked at it, it was definitely related to that.
"Ha..."
I'd clearly finished one mission, but it felt like I had even more to think about now.
What kind of person is Hermann, anyway?
I thought about it for a long time, but in the end I gave up on the questions that refused to produce answers.
My identity, my connection to Hermann, Yuri, the merging of the old me and the me here...
There were so many things I needed answers to, but all of them were topics that gave no answers, and it was maddening.
At times like this, sleep really was the only option...
Ignoring the flood of questions and worries, I forced myself to sleep.
And after wrestling with my bed for a long while, I finally fell asleep, having made it through another day at the company.