Ch.239The Seventh Entanglement – Variations on a Blind Revolution (9)

The reporter could easily tell she had misspoken. Seeing how adamantly he denied it, there must have been someone else present at that scene.

More important, though, was his reaction. Earlier, just mentioning investigating his comrades had made him look like he wanted to sink into the ground or be strangled, but not this time.

Whatever had been burning inside him seemed to have diminished, if not completely disappeared. Since it wasn’t entirely gone, he was trying to leave rather than get angry. The reporter briefly grabbed the detective’s coat as he turned away.

“I… I’m sorry. I could make some guesses, and I knew from the Crimson Cult leader that you killed Sol Invictus, but I didn’t know the rest. I apologize for speaking without knowing.”

Fortunately, this time she wasn’t overwhelmed into silence. She hadn’t waited until he’d stewed for a long time before apologizing. The detective turned around briefly to look at her.

He wasn’t the type to hold onto things that were better forgotten. He hadn’t inherited the flames from Sol Invictus. Rather, he had been able to set down his own fire before it consumed even the oxygen needed to breathe.

“It’s fine. It would be stranger if you didn’t know. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wanted to vomit at words of praise. Are you going to see Mr. Lanshore now?”

Many people might have wondered where the fixer was, but not many would have wondered how he was doing. Even if you tried to count them, there wouldn’t be more than a handful.

The reporter thought she wanted to be among that handful. Despite being told it was fine, the mood had become depressingly somber, so she decided to smile like her usual self. She gestured at their surroundings.

Broken windows, a couple of smoke plumes rising from the factory district… The Idealists had handed over the bodies themselves, but debris from the terminals was still scattered throughout the streets.

“It seems a bit dangerous for me to wander around alone, so I was thinking of calling either Paulina or Willem… This won’t cost me money too, will it?”

Is this work again? He didn’t know how much work would pour in once he returned to his office and removed the absence sign. Everyone would be looking to see if anyone they knew had become a terminal.

Then he’d have to waste time searching that factory district for people who might have already been crushed by the Industrial Spirits. Cooperating with the reporter’s work seemed easier on his body.

As for money… Blingkerton would cover it. The detective wasn’t someone who lived such a busy life anyway. At least, he hadn’t originally. But work had started pouring in from somewhere at some point.

And he had helped prevent more people from becoming terminals. He never expected gratitude, but he didn’t want to work overtime.

“I can afford to lose 20 dollars a day if I can keep the absence sign on my office until this job is done. No miscellaneous tasks, no overtime, no repetitive work.”

He couldn’t tell whether this disposition had led him to choose Blingkerton rather than a factory, or whether choosing Blingkerton had made him the kind of person who could naturally say such things. It didn’t matter either way.

The reporter said something silly again. The detective began to feel like he could start to relax. Such comments were always the turning point.

“Actually, I was wondering if I’d have to walk to both my home and Mr. Lanshore’s place, since I don’t know if taxis are running on a day like this… Does it make me seem materialistic to say this?”

The detective shrugged as if to say he was no better. She was saying such things after witnessing firsthand someone who would do anything to maintain a lifestyle of receiving money or working for money.

The reporter got into the detective’s car again. When she rode in Paulina’s car, the seat had been uncomfortably large, but somehow this human-sized car felt just cozy enough.

Except for the fact that he kept his gun ready to draw at any moment, she found it rather likable. The reporter made excuses that it was probably due to the excellent design of the car.

The car circled around the factory district. Mr. Lanshore was staying less than thirty minutes away if they went through the factory district, but the detective had never enjoyed driving over corpses.

The streets near the factory district still had an atmosphere like they were one block away from Hell, but the uprising of the Idealists hadn’t caused such serious destruction. A little further on, normal scenery would appear.

The people there would know what was happening too. They would be sharing the same uneasy murmurs and suspicious glances. Still, they hadn’t been directly affected.

In fact, not that many people had been directly affected by this incident. If someone didn’t handle things properly, the aftermath could be worse than the direct damage.

Mr. Lanshore was staying in a small house with an attached general store not far from the factory district. Quite a few people had gathered there. The detective gripped his gun with one hand but soon lowered it.

Most were factory workers, but among them was a skinny man. A familiar man. The factory owner. And near the factory workers gathered around the store, there were still men with guns.

Hired muscle. Though he’d never worked with them, he could tell just by looking at their faces. A factory owner protecting his workers? Am I in Pennsylvania? The detective left his rifle in the car as he got out.

Terminal debris was scattered here and there on the road where people had gathered. They were charred as if electrocuted. Judging by the burn marks on the road, Mr. Lanshore had done this.

Mr. Lanshore, among the crowd, recognized him immediately. So did the factory owner, who had been talking to him with a worried expression.

“Ah, Mr. Husband!”

Mr. Lanshore was moving his right hand somewhat stiffly, perhaps an aftereffect of the assault. It was fortunate that only this much remained after such a beating, but it was enough to build guilt in the factory owner.

The detective returned Mr. Lanshore’s greeting with a nod as he spoke in a much more energetic voice than when he had been bedridden.

“Mr. Lanshore.”

Only after they exchanged greetings did the reporter get out with him. Seeing them greet Mr. Lanshore, the hired men didn’t stop the detective and reporter. The factory owner, who had been looking at Mr. Lanshore with an uncomfortable expression, also stood up.

“What’s a contractor doing here? The angels told us to wait here in case Idealists might be mixed in with those escaping, but they haven’t sent any manpower, which has been a real ordeal. Perhaps…”

Our angel lords sure know how to get things done. Why not just tell them to return to the factory since nothing’s wrong? The detective let out a dry laugh.

“The riot started by those Idealist bastards is being wrapped up, but the news hasn’t reached here yet? There should have been gunfire in the factory district about an hour ago.”

Mr. Lanshore spoke to the factory owner as if to say he’d been right. An elf standing with a human looked quite overlapping.

“I told you. The angels would be moving in to suppress them soon. So, what’s the situation now?”

The detective lied naturally. He was as good a ghostwriter as he was a detective.

“I heard the Industrial Spirit King himself stepped in when he couldn’t stand it anymore. It wasn’t the Idealist Hive Mind pulling terminals out for revolution. Apparently, it was the Spirit King’s contractors pretending to be Idealists. Though nobody really seemed to believe that story.”

“It wasn’t those Idealist bastards? Well, it did seem strange for them. How much time has passed since we fired all of them, and suddenly they show up at the factory today?”

The reporter was watching the conversation between the detective and factory owner intently. At least those who hadn’t directly witnessed the Idealists’ mistake seemed to have enough mental space to think objectively.

Mr. Lanshore knew a bit more about the Idealists than the factory owner did. It was normal to learn about those who had nearly gotten you killed.

He spoke with a somewhat worried voice. It was a worry that had already become reality.

“The Idealists… they’re not good at defending themselves. Their emotions are different from humans. They’re the worst beings to stand before excited and frightened people and engage in dialogue.”

“At least they don’t seem to have eaten any lawyers. Or maybe they just ate human nature and left out legal knowledge and persuasion skills. Anyway, I didn’t come because you needed me. This person has business with you.”

The detective, with a smirk, stepped half a step aside to let the reporter see the two men. It was overtime without pay, but he had received time more precious than money, so he had fulfilled his duty as a detective.

Only after hearing this could the reporter change her thoughts about public opinion. It was true that everyone disliked the Idealists, but many people didn’t actively hate them either.

Rather than actively defending them, focusing on the real culprits and making the Idealists take only normal responsibility would be most effective.

The reporter extended her hand first for a handshake. Meeting a fellow elf, especially one who seemed so respected, was joyful but somehow weighed on a corner of her heart.

“I’m Rose Leafman, reporter for Golden Age Press! You see, the Idealist Hive Mind came toward us leading people who had become terminals. The Hive Mind did try its best. It offered to cooperate with the police and return the people who had become terminals… but as you said, Mr. Lanshore, its speaking skills were severely lacking.”

When the reporter recited what the Hive Mind had said, Mr. Lanshore clicked his tongue, and the factory owner looked somewhat displeased. It was a sad thing even if understood, and cause for anger if not.

“So I want to write an article! Not to curse the Idealists like everyone else, but to reveal who should really take responsibility… Michael introduced you to me! I’d like your help.”

She didn’t expect him to be friendly with everyone who worked under the Industrial Spirit King. There couldn’t be anyone with connections that broad.

Still, someone with such wide connections, from factory workers to factory owners, might know at least one of the Spirit Management Department officials who allegedly caused this incident.

Mr. Lanshore began speaking as if somewhat puzzled. That wasn’t the case by the time he finished. He was someone who knew exactly where he was needed.

Someone who knew he was more needed in this wretched New York than in the San Francisco Empire and chose to stay in New York couldn’t fail to know something like this.

“I’d like to help, but all I’ve been doing here is comforting people… Ah, yes. Are you perhaps here to ask about the Spirit Management Department people?”

The only civil servant the detective had met recently was a cold-blooded divine who never showed his face. By his standards too, Mr. Lanshore was the person most likely to know Spirit Management Department officials.

“I was hoping! Actually, I can’t just go to a funeral home and ask about the incident… All the people in charge of the Industrial Spirit King have died.”

Mr. Lanshore responded as if somewhat puzzled. There was something unnatural about it.

“All of them? Do you mean they all died in connection with this incident, or were ten—no, nine people found dead somewhere?”

Saying nine means he already knew one had been murdered. The detective picked up on this. Having witnessed the officials’ end, he answered instead.

“All nine died in connection with this incident. Even though the Industrial Spirit King handled things, he couldn’t kill his own contractors with his own hands, so he borrowed someone else’s.”

The reporter hadn’t yet mentioned apocalypticism, and the detective, following her lead, wasn’t bringing it up either. The reporter wanted to see if the topic could come up naturally.

Fortunately, a good answer came. It would sound plausible enough to those who knew the truth of the incident, and increased the likelihood of getting interviews.

“Then… have you perhaps seen those apocalypticists who were shouting about the end of the world on the streets a month or two ago? I heard some Spirit Management Department officials were also obsessed with that apocalypticism. Someone once told me, laughing at how ridiculous it was that this golden age could end…”

If the one who had scoffed was the human contractor who was killed first, it would be good to say the Spirit Management Department officials were fanatics at heart. The reporter recalled what she had seen through the Hive Mind and swallowed.

“Was the person who said that human?”

“What? No, he wasn’t. Rather, the most obsessed one was human, and the one who told me about it was a goblin. But to think even such a person became obsessed with apocalypticism and did this…”

That’s natural. People are different from each other. Before becoming the Hive Mind, they couldn’t have been cooperating with one mind and one heart like the Hive Mind. One more question arose, but another was also answered.

The detective muttered. His voice was dry. Nevertheless, the reporter could read displeasure in the detective’s voice.

“So the dead human wasn’t a victim but a martyr.”

He had deceived the Hive Mind, even killing his own family and offering his own corpse to be overlaid by the Industrial Spirit. Not a good thing, but helpful to the reporter.

It was ambiguous whether this could plausibly happen or if something was strange about it. So both of them decided, without discussion, to believe what they had seen and the testimonies that had emerged. It was enough for the reporter to write an article.

“Actually, I knew the Industrial Spirit King was spreading apocalypticism… but I didn’t know if that was something that could be naturally inferred. Seeing you speak like that, I think most people’s reaction will be ‘finally, it’s happening’? It doesn’t seem like it will appear to be a far-fetched story.”

The factory owner also showed some goodwill. He seemed to dislike both apocalypticism and the Idealists, but he appeared to have some respect for Mr. Lanshore.

“You can write that I said so. Being a member of the New York Business Association and someone who runs a business on the body of the Industrial Spirit King, my words should be more credible.”

Now, unless machine parts were found in the bodies of the nine contractors, the false accusations against the Industrial Spirit King would be almost completely cleared.