Ch.223Work Record 032 – Ripples (2)

The bed on the third floor, inaccessible to others due to the broken staircase, was a space where Arthur could have Eve all to himself. What was once an unused area had now become a place warmed by human presence.

Half-exhausted in his arms, Eve squirmed up to rest her chin on his shoulder and asked in a tired voice. The blue hair sticking to her pale cheeks created a pleasing contrast.

“So, Arthur. You’re staying in Los Angeles for a while this time, right? Since you go on month-long business trips every month, I have to ask whenever you return, you irresponsible guy.”

“I’ll be staying longer this time. You know I left with tears in my eyes because it was an urgent request. I’ve already booked my next job… but that one’s in LA too.”

Though she still looked drained, Eve smiled slightly, raising the corners of her mouth. Her cybernetic finger approached his face and poked the tip of his nose. He shook his head in response.

“I’ll give you a pass. LA isn’t a city where freelancers can afford to be idle. But don’t make me wait too anxiously, okay? I might just prevent you from taking personal requests and make you stay with me all day.”

While she usually appeared somewhat mature when relaxed, at times like this, Arthur wondered where that composure disappeared to. As he was trying to leisurely spend the time before work, another call came in.

Should he have set it to “do not disturb”? He glanced at Eve, but she just nodded with her face buried against his chest. Her voice came with a light laugh, uncharacteristic of her.

“I won’t interfere with your work, Arthur, you know that. Freelance work is too important to let my mood get in the way. ‘I can’t save the city because my lover is upset.’ How ridiculous would that be?”

“Wouldn’t I be a terrible person if I pushed Eve aside for work until there’s no need to weigh one against the other? Looking at the caller… it doesn’t seem like a world-saving matter. It’s Noah.”

“Noah, Noah, Noah… That mercenary we met last time? The rookie you said you’d help. I rather enjoyed being seen as someone as impressive as you.”

The fact that Eve naturally knew the people he knew gave him a comfortable feeling, though he wasn’t sure why. He stroked Eve’s hair in his arms, then combed it with his fingers as he connected the call.

“It’s been a while, Noah. You didn’t do anything foolish while I was away from Los Angeles, did you? Like suspecting Ms. Riley?”

He had worried Noah might crash headfirst into Fitts & Morrison, but instead recalled how Noah’s concern had been whether Riley might have feelings for Arthur. Noah’s voice came through, sounding muffled.

“Ah, aaagh. Why bring that up again? I just called to check in because Uncle Simon is out now, and Kanun is doing pretty well too, so I thought I wouldn’t embarrass myself by contacting you…”

“That’s what stands out most in my memory about you, can’t help it. So, did Simon tell you what really happened? I know he must have been very concerned.”

“Of course he told me… it wasn’t Fitts & Morrison’s fault. Just… no, never mind. I’ll tell you in person! Could we meet tomorrow? You must need rest since you just got back today.”

Noah seemed to be acting less childish now. Though it wasn’t Fitts & Morrison’s fault, Arthur tried to think what mercy they might have shown Simon, but ultimately just nodded.

“I was in the middle of some excellent rest, but it’s good to hear from you. Let’s have lunch tomorrow. I’m honestly curious about what happened. I’m hoping it was something trivial.”

Noah mumbled something and ended the call. Eve had now gotten dressed again, and Arthur carried her in his arms to the bottom of the broken third-floor staircase, lightly jumping down. He landed on his toes.

Pretending to tilt backward from landing on the stairs, he lightly jumped on his toes, spun around, and landed again. Though there was no impact from the landing this time, he felt the impact of Eve’s hand against his chest.

“Seems like you’re happy to be back? Playing such uncharacteristic silly pranks.”

“I thought I was fine, but I guess not. I must have been tense for all three weeks. Oh, would it be okay if Pastor Bill and I talked alone for a bit?”

Eve tilted her head but smiled as if it were no problem. He gently set her down as she stretched out her legs, signaling to be put down. What a comfortable scene.

“Of course. You didn’t even have time to talk properly after rescuing him, right? Oh, don’t think of him as your father-in-law. You know?”

Having heard that her parents had personally prevented her escape, he couldn’t help but feel tense, but she spoke as if she had shaken off those memories.

“Did you think I’d start crying again, Arthur? Your expression suddenly darkened… Don’t worry, I’m fine. What I was going to say was, ‘Think of him as a better version than the real father-in-law.'”

Sighing at her mischievous words, he entered the room where Pastor Bill Weber’s hologram projector waited. Seeing him enter, the drone-connected hologram projector detached from its charger.

Once again, a rather portly male hologram emanated from the projector, materializing before him. Pastor Bill Weber’s voice was always comforting to hear.

“How the Lord works in such unexpected ways. Who would have thought a corporate justice child who doesn’t even know the word ‘religion’ would rescue Eve like that? I’m glad to have a chance to thank you, Arthur.”

“Um… when you put it that way, I don’t know what to say. I came to ask something befitting a corporate justice child who doesn’t know the word ‘religion.’ Is that okay?”

Pastor Bill Weber’s hologram looked a bit taken aback, but eventually offered a warm smile. He really was a good person.

“Why wouldn’t it be? Ask me anything. If it’s something I can tell you, I will.”

It was a question that pricked his conscience to ask such a good person, but he decided to ignore the voice of his conscience just this once.

“Eve has escaped from Hollowed Creek, but I think that’s not enough. I want to completely destroy Hollowed Creek. You might not like this term, but you were an insider.”

“That’s my original sin, I suppose. Still, you know Hollowed Creek is a properly functioning megacorporation. It’s even a partner of Belwether, and you were surely… a certified freelancer from Belwether.”

Arthur had expected a religious person to be against fighting, but perhaps that wasn’t the case? He knew less about religion than he did about nationalism.

“I’m going to contact Panacea Meditech, Hollowed Creek’s competitor, make Belwether stop discriminating against mutants… and ultimately make Belwether choose Panacea Meditech over Hollowed Creek.”

Saying it out loud made it sound like an absurd plan. Fortunately, he was one of the “returned children” who could serve as a bridge between them, knew Mr. Günter, and had earned some trust from Panacea Meditech.

He still felt a comprehensive lack of ability. Crushing one budding sprout wasn’t enough. He felt he needed to kill something else that was perfectly alive to ease his anxiety.

Pastor Bill Weber approached the matter more coldly than expected. He made a holographic gesture of resting his chin on his hand and said:

“Do you think it’s possible? I mean, megacorporations follow only their own will. It would be difficult to pull them in the direction you want.”

“Of course. While others might see me as born into much misfortune, I was born with many opportunities… and have lived a life blessed with much luck. Is that explanation enough?”

Life in Belwether’s hands was never unhappy. It felt almost too warm, like a comforting embrace. Arthur didn’t really understand the meaning of the word “orphan.” They were all Belwether’s children.

“I don’t know what you mean, but… if you have such a plan, what do you want to ask me? If you’re talking about an insider, it must be about Hollowed Creek.”

“I want to know if Hollowed Creek will collapse if I just kill the cult leader, or if I’ll need to get more blood on my hands.”

I spoke these words as boldly as when I had promised to take responsibility for Eve. Pastor Bill Weber looked at me with what seemed like genuine shock.

I wasn’t talking about moral condemnation or theological debate. I wasn’t taught such things. I wasn’t created for such things. Belwether’s biological weapons don’t know how to do such things.

“So, you’re planning to cut off Hollowed Creek’s limbs and then behead the cult leader?”

“What else could end a cult that’s already burning in the pit?”

There is no authority to punish Hollowed Creek. They left the reach of nationalists long ago.

It was they who decided to establish themselves outside that greenhouse. It was they who made it the only way. They must bear the responsibility themselves.

Pastor Bill Weber stared directly into my eyes. He shuddered once as if getting the chills, then spoke as if he couldn’t agree but couldn’t deny either:

“Kill the cult leader and his lovers, and it will end. They made everyone into uniform Adams and Eves precisely to ensure that. But do you really have a reason to do this? How many people…”

“A reason? Of course I do. Those bastards were the first to swing their weight around in a fight without rules, trying to break Eve and bring her back to them.”

If I gain enough power, they can’t say anything even if I swing wildly, trusting in my own weight class. They started this. Pastor Bill’s hologram trembled.

“When the cult leader tried to reach for Eve, I cut off his wrist, and when that bastard flicks his tongue in his temple, I’ll cut that off too. They started it.”

“You have the same eyes as John when he was young, Arthur. To be honest… I’m afraid to believe it. If you felt Hollowed Creek was necessary, I think you could willingly become John’s successor and the new cult leader.”

I was used to saying that anything could be used if necessary. But I had no interest in God. I decided to proudly deny his words. To deny my own kind.

“I see only one value in that old cult leader. The single satisfaction of watching him struggle and take his last breath, the single value of being worth killing.”

Why do I hate him so much? Simple. Because he tried to touch my Eve. When my love for Eve is flipped, it becomes hatred for the cult leader.

“I believe everyone deserves to be born or created happy and loved. Unless they give up that birthright themselves and become someone who would be better off not existing.”

And to me, the cult leader was someone who had given up that right. Because he had stolen that birthright from others and turned it into fat in his own belly.

So killing the cult leader would also prove what I believe. Conversely, to prove it, I might need to kill that cult leader. That white whale must die.

So, I asked Pastor Bill Weber in return. He was clearly a rebel. He was following his own will, not Hollowed Creek’s. Perhaps we could understand each other.

“The cult leader took away not only people’s right to live happily but even their right to have their own names. He’s lived wielding others’ lives and existence as he pleased, proclaiming it God’s work. Is that right?”

“Then, can you promise not to take away the lives of those people who have already had their lives taken from them?”

Pastor Bill Weber was wearing an almost fearful expression. I returned a friendly smile.

“I think you’re misunderstanding because you think I’m similar to the cult leader, but I’m just… a twenty-three-year-old mercenary in Los Angeles. What could I possibly do to take away those people’s lives?”

I will leave those people behind. I will return hoping that Eve is safe and that many people can find new meaning in the names Adam and Eve.

I naturally crafted the words to follow. Hoping to return dreams to Pastor Bill Weber, who might have forgotten the word “dream,” I told him:

“Perhaps those people will need a shepherd, not a cult leader. You already know what corrupted Hollowed Creek. You can try to ensure it doesn’t become a meaningless repetition.”

Rather than blindly shouting “One more time!” like the Old Path’s ideal, it’s much better to give a second chance to someone who remained noble despite failing, despite dying. It won’t repeat itself.

Whether he had become a hologram or not, Bill Weber was still Pastor Bill Weber. A person with desires. He finally began to express his anxiety.

“How do you know I won’t fail again if I try? I may have more experience, but I’m just someone who gave his life for that one experience.”

“Isn’t that an insult to the people who believed in your ideals and first opened the spring of Hollowed Creek? Don’t forget the original Hollowed Creek you built with your faith, Bill.”

Pastor Bill Weber’s hologram stopped looking confused and seemed to search through his memories, of which only 42% remained, before speaking. He still seemed to lack confidence.

“I don’t know. Will the people of Hollowed Creek need God again? They’ve been following the cult leader’s proclamations of God like a herd of lemmings for so long.”

“Maybe they won’t need it. People will be skeptical. They’ll think the new Hollowed Creek is no different from the old one. But isn’t that the thorny path you wanted?”

Then only those with pure faith will gather. The few cultists who still follow the cult leader’s ideals will leave with like-minded people, and only the thorny path will remain for them.

“Yes, certainly… when I first established Hollowed Creek, I wanted to show something to those who asked, ‘What’s the point of this?’ I definitely thought that. Definitely…”

The more enemies, the better. The stronger the enemy, the better. The act of honing oneself to face an opponent who seems unbeatable, the phrase “comprehensive lack of ability,” was refreshingly perfect.

“Yes. Rather than me simply becoming the new cult leader of the same Creek, it might be better if someone like you completely destroys the Creek, leaving not one stone upon another, before starting again. It might not be like last time.”

I reached out my hand, not caring that he was a hologram, and he extended his hand, which couldn’t actually grasp mine, slightly overlapping with my hand. We shook hands. We shared trust.

Hollowed Creek will die by my hand, and its corpse will be devoured by Pastor Bill Weber’s ideals, which the cult leader had mocked as weak and fragile.

I had gained another important talent for my musical chairs strategy. Everything was progressing, if only a little.