Ch.213A Story That Won’t Evaporate – The Hour of the Dog and Wolf (3)

I had thrown away the chance of salvation that had come right before me, but I didn’t regret it. At least I hadn’t done something as stupid as sacrificing a person to regain a human-like life.

My comrades would be disappointed. They might even get angry with emotions running high. But they would all understand eventually. Everyone knew what happens the moment we let go of our tainted humanity.

I wasn’t trying to claim that making a living through killing somehow preserved our humanity. But despite what those acts had eaten away, we still stubbornly clutched at least a handful of it.

If that handful hadn’t existed, neither Charles Clichy nor Congressman Edward Collins would have died. The Old Gourmet Society… they probably would have killed even without that handful, but for different reasons than this time.

The God-President, who had been quietly looking toward me from the silhouette’s face area, began to speak again. Somehow, his voice sounded sad.

“How absurd to think an omniscient being cannot understand sorrow. How ridiculous to say an omniscient being cannot understand death. What about not understanding the word ‘inhumane,’ or not understanding the word ‘cold-blooded’? I knew. As you said, I knew everything. I know all the suffering of that innocent child.”

Was the God-President telling me that he understood everything but didn’t care about such things? I wondered. He continued speaking as if he knew I would have questions.

“People don’t have to choose that child’s suffering. They have neither the ability nor the right to choose because they lack the capability. But a god with both ability and right must do so. Even though it’s not because of the perfect choice I could make, but rather due to the imperfect choices made by people, I must ultimately stamp my approval, just as I did with Prohibition.”

The God-President raised his mighty right hand. The surroundings, which had been illuminated by sunlight rather than electric bulbs, turned pitch black.

With one gesture of his hand, the empty space became so bright that I couldn’t open my eyes, despite there being no light source. The miracle and power subsided shortly after.

“My will takes precedence over all laws of the world, but since I gave this world to you all, I have no right to interfere with it. I admit, I do guide you through all visions, spirits, speeches, and inspirations I bestow. I help you make different choices. That’s all. If I didn’t intend to do that, why would I have given free will?”

He was just justifying his own choices. No, that’s not it. What reason would the God-President have to plead his righteousness to me? Perhaps because of that unpleasant divinity, his words were somewhat believable.

Maybe… just maybe, it was ridiculous to criticize the God-President for not helping us while saying it was our choice and we should take responsibility. Still, I didn’t answer.

There was no reason to answer. He was a being who knew all my thoughts and what thoughts would follow. A being who could make a thousand years’ worth of decisions in advance and wait.

Even if I said nothing, he would have heard my answer. He quietly bowed his head to me first. It was true that he was a god who could willingly kneel or bow his head before a believer.

“Let’s consider the matter of compensation concluded. Your shoulder will heal without festering. I bless you.”

The God-President was no longer there. Only a spirit in the shape of a dove that had flown in flew up from the hospital room and disappeared beyond the sky. Agent Desmond, who had been quietly guarding the door, returned.

Calling him Agent Desmond was my way of showing respect. Whether he had called for her in advance, a nurse followed him in to stop the bleeding on my shoulder and remove the pieces of plaster cast I had forcibly shattered. It was fortunate that the Sacred Security Bureau had prepared at least one change of clothes.

As I transformed from a patient back to my usual detective self, Agent Desmond spoke quietly.

“I never thought you would go that far. Ah, these are items recovered from the scene… if there’s anything else you need, the Sacred Security Bureau will arrange it.”

He handed me a box. If it contained items recovered from the scene… Albert had left behind the gun he had ordered, but the driver hadn’t left anything, so I hoped it was related to him.

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I opened the box. As soon as I saw the contents, I threw it away. Inside was Sol Invictus’s gladius.

“Did you think I’d want to keep trophies?”

He shook his head quietly, as if asking me not to misunderstand. He had his own dignity. Or perhaps I was just thinking of him as friendly.

“I thought you wouldn’t want it, so I was going to store it at the Sacred Security Bureau building, but it kept appearing in the glove compartment as if it wanted to come here. The same thing happened even when Warren held onto it. Did Sol Invictus leave any words or curses?”

Sol Invictus’s last words…. I had cut off his head before he could finish speaking, not waiting to hear any last testament. Still, I thought I knew why the sword was trying to come to me.

“He did tell me to take the sword. I didn’t listen to the rest and cut off his head, so I don’t know what came after. Whether he was going to say ‘blood’ or ‘blue,’ he did say something like that.”

Agent Desmond, who had been quietly listening to me, clicked his tongue in displeasure. To one who serves as a period, a god continuing the sentence after the period must be nothing more or less than unpleasant.

“It’s stuck to you. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep it until the power remaining in the sword fades. Please keep it as if you’re preserving Sol Invictus like a taxidermied man-eating tiger.”

“Power remaining in the sword, huh? Well, it won’t catch fire or anything, right? Having my house burn down once a year is enough.”

I was truly ignorant about gods. If Albert hadn’t been assigned to me, I would have only had a superficial understanding of what kind of god Sol Invictus was. Agent Desmond nodded.

“A god’s power can only be wielded by someone with divinity. Apart from the fact that it wants to remain in Michael’s possession, it’s nothing more or less than an indestructible gladius.”

Well, at least I could use it as a can opener. I picked up the box containing Sol Invictus’s gladius, which I had thrown away just as I had done with the box containing the spider. Now the job was truly finished.

Usually, when I finished a job, there was some sense of relief. Either enough money would come in to live extravagantly for at least a few days, or Giuseppina’s underlings would greet me respectfully instead of looking suspicious when they saw my face at Bar Two Face—a bit of growth and a bit of fame. This time, there was nothing.

That’s not entirely true. I had revisited the past, my hatred had subsided somewhat… and since Sol Invictus was dead, I had prevented a war, which was rewarding in its own way.

Either way, I needed to return to New York. I had left New York saying I was going out on a job from the hospital, and I hadn’t returned for days, so Sara might have already put up missing person posters.

With the box containing the god’s sword tucked under my arm and my dagger—cleaned of soot and my blood—at my waist, I was ready. All the guns I had collected were blown to pieces. I’d need to get new ones.

“Send an invoice to the Sacred Security Bureau for things lost during the mission. Ah, could you put in a payment request to the Sacred Security Bureau for fifteen thousand dollars in the driver’s name? I can’t help with Albert’s compensation, but I think I can help with his. The job was completed, after all. At the very least, proper compensation should be paid.”

Agent Desmond smiled, as if to say there was no need to worry. If death doesn’t care for the dead, who could? It was only natural in its own way.

“Of course, we plan to pay. But are you going to leave through that door? There are journalists spread out in front. We’re not usually the type to make a scene, but the Sacred Security Bureau transported a patient to this hospital… and then news spread that Sol Invictus had died. There will be plenty of reporters wanting to know who brought down the sun.”

I was tired of greedily taking credit for things I hadn’t done, or at least hadn’t done alone.

Besides, if dozens of photos were taken of me here, all those journalists would discover that the Sacred Security Bureau’s external collaborator who killed Sol Invictus couldn’t be properly photographed.

My comrades would already give me grief for kicking away the chance at salvation; I didn’t want to create more questions that might lead back to us. After letting out a sigh, I turned back to Agent Desmond.

“So we’re still in Pennsylvania?”

“Yes. Madam Gremory kindly lent us the Gremory Foundation Hospital. The doctor said you would wake up today or tomorrow, so she’s probably waiting on the first floor.”

She built a hospital and saved me in it. I sighed first, knowing Gremory would gloat when she saw my face.

I approached the window to check outside. We were on the third floor. They had given me a nice private room with windows facing the well-lit main entrance of the hospital, making it difficult to jump out.

Or maybe not. When I stuck my head out and looked down, I could hear bustling sounds from the ground. Gremory was always a demon who attracted people and attention. It would be the same now.

Moreover, there was a concrete overhang above the hospital’s main entrance. It seemed designed to block excessive sunlight or rain, and if I jumped onto it, I wouldn’t attract attention.

Before jumping, I said goodbye to Agent Desmond. Remembering the things I had said to Sara in my memories, I couldn’t help but speak in a somewhat gentler tone.

“I hope we don’t meet again. I know what it’s like to work with the Sacred Security Bureau…”

“To me, you’re an external collaborator who cursed at my esteemed superiors. Goodbye. And, you will see me again eventually.”

There was no known way to say goodbye to death. I climbed over the windowsill and jumped. All the attention on the ground was focused on Gremory, and I didn’t land right next to those people. I wasn’t spotted.

It wasn’t even difficult to quietly drop from the overhang above the main entrance where I had landed. I bent my legs to land without making a sound, then approached and blended into the crowd around Madam Gremory.

She was a demon who could remember each and every face of the people who flocked around her. As she examined her followers one by one, she was startled when she saw my face.

Thinking she had mistaken my face, which was unlike her, she rubbed her eyes, but seeing that it was still me, she said to the people around her in a gentle voice:

“Ah, I left something in the car… please wait here. It’s, well, something personal.”

Skillfully making an excuse, she headed toward the hospital parking lot with only her bodyguard. Her followers didn’t even think of following her after that single excuse.

I followed Gremory to the parking lot without hiding myself, and she turned around to look at me. With an expression of disbelief, she said:

“You, um, aren’t you in… excessively better condition than a few days ago? How can a walking corpse who was unconscious be standing here like this?”

It was quite entertaining to see Madam Gremory looking uncharacteristically flustered, so I smirked leisurely.

“I just got off work. When you’re sick at work, it tends to clear up as soon as quitting time comes around.”

Gremory laughed dryly. Perhaps my survival wasn’t unpleasant news to her, as she seemed to accept my pathetic excuse and asked:

“If you had come down the stairs, I would have seen you.”

“I jumped.”

She waited for about five seconds before asking.

“When someone says they jumped from the third floor of a building, don’t they usually explain why they had to do so? I was waiting, thinking you would naturally explain.”

“There were some fools lined up at the door wanting to see who brought down the sun, so I jumped. The sun sets on its own, doesn’t it? Rather, it finally found its place after sticking its head out until midnight, well past its time. I detest attaching heroic tales to that.”

Madam Gremory smiled slightly. Although this job had ended with killing someone again, her reaction was much more restrained than when I had killed the union leader for her.

“I thought you were a human hunter, but it seems you hunt gods as well. Yes, that’s right. He was a god who shouldn’t have been in the 20th century. When everything is about to collapse because of one person’s obstinacy, removing that person helps more people—you taught me that. It feels strange to see you doing the same thing again. If you came to avoid the journalists, shall I give you a ride?”

It seems it didn’t remain just a source of shame in Gremory’s mind. She might have ruminated on that shame and extracted something useful from it. Gremory was a demon capable of that.

I was able to quietly arrive at Lancaster Station in Gremory’s car. I took out unburned bills from the wallet recovered by the Sacred Security Bureau, bought a train ticket, and waited for the train without any luggage.

I board the train. It was time to return to New York. Fortunately, the other train passengers tried not to pay attention to a man who had been stabbed in the shoulder and was applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

I desperately wanted a cigarette, but while my wallet had somehow been rescued from the inferno, my cigarettes had apparently burned up completely. There were no cigarettes among the items recovered by the Sacred Security Bureau.

Feeling withdrawal symptoms from nicotine, or perhaps withdrawal symptoms from New York, I watched as the train gradually approached New York. I somewhat missed the air mixed with the smell of smoke.

As soon as I get back, I’ll go see Sara. When I meet Sara and talk about cleaning up my room on the second floor of Two Face, my mind will be at ease until I receive the funeral notices for Albert and Willis.