Ch.54Chapter 7. Ice Is No Less Than Fire (6)

Friday dawn.

Today is the day to meet the broker. Since we agreed to meet on the highway in the morning, I’m up early getting ready.

“How do I look?”

Camilla stood under the flashlight hanging in place of a lantern.

Wearing only a sports bikini, she struck various poses like the model she was.

My hands, which had been packing our things, stopped without me realizing it. I had been drowsy from not being fully awake, but now my mind snapped to attention.

I shouldn’t laugh.

Camilla’s posture was provocative, but her eyes darted around nervously, and her cheeks were growing increasingly flushed. She was embarrassed too.

“Why aren’t you s-saying anything?”

The stuttering is one thing, but why is her voice cracking like that?

Growing anxious, Camilla fidgeted with her mouth and kept licking her lips.

“…Do you find me funny?”

Actions speak louder than words.

I stood up, threw off my shirt, and struck a pose like a bodybuilder. Camilla covered her mouth in surprise and laughed.

As I changed positions, she covered her face with her palms in embarrassment, but still couldn’t take her eyes off me.

“What are you doing all of a sudden?!”

“That’s how I felt too.”

“Stop it, I said stop! Oh, what am I going to do?”

Camilla sat down on the floor, covering her face as she laughed. When she stood up, she wiped tears from her eyes with her fingers. She must have found it quite amusing.

“Camilla. You’re beautiful. I know it’s impolite to stare too much, but I can’t take my eyes off you. To be honest, I want to touch you.”

“Hmph. If you hadn’t laughed, I might have allowed it. But tell me honestly, am I pretty or handsome? You have to be honest. It affects how I do my makeup.”

Unlike me, Camilla’s face is well-known.

Of course, she says that with each advertisement she dyes her hair anew and changes her atmosphere, so there’s no sense that she’s the same person. That’s the secret to how she’s remained a top model.

Plus, she shot propaganda pamphlets for the Elza Liberation Front. I saw one yesterday. It was a photo of her pointing her finger while wearing an Elza Liberation Corps uniform. Below it read, ‘Elza wants you.’

Camilla threatened to “blow my roots” if I teased her about it, but I don’t tease people about such things. Even if her heart has changed now, the Camilla of that time was sincere.

No matter how much a sincere feeling has changed, it still hurts when someone tramples on it. For me, for Camilla, for anyone.

So I carefully dusted it off and put it in my upper pocket. Camilla begged me to throw it away, but I convinced her by saying “I’m keeping it because it’s pretty.”

In truth, beyond being pretty, it was incredibly cheesy. The design exuded the characteristic exaggeration of former communist states mixed with the patriotic colors of America during World War II.

If I were to collect the entire series and show them all at once, it would be quite a blow.

Anyway, compared to that stiff pose, right now she’s really…

“The handsome side.”

In the propaganda, Camilla was wearing a military uniform. Yet the moment I saw it, I thought she was beautiful. The feminine lines distinct from a man’s, features I couldn’t precisely describe without an art education, were clearly evident.

But the Camilla before me now felt somewhat different. For days, she had pushed me to my limits with training, and she had exercised with the same intensity herself.

No, even more than me. Even when I couldn’t move a finger and was lying in the tent, she was somewhere lifting dumbbells she’d found from who knows where.

That’s not to say Camilla had developed bodybuilder-like muscles. Hers were closer to those of a ballerina or gymnast. Her body looked a bit more linear and firmer than when we shared drinks a few days ago.

Camilla seemed satisfied with my answer.

“…That’s good. Then I can disguise myself as a man.”

“Huh?”

“Of course, a woman doesn’t become a man just by exercising. The reverse is also true. But depending on what you train, you can reduce certain aspects. Like my shoulders and arms right now?”

I thought something felt different—her shoulders were broader and her arms thicker.

“You were exercising to change your body shape?”

“Well, not just for that.”

She trailed off, but then showed a proud expression.

“You can’t change your body like clay after just a few days of exercise. I just stimulated the muscles I’d built during the liberation struggle. Focusing on the upper body and shoulders? Even just adding a sturdy impression changes your appearance quite a bit. Now I just need to dress right.”

“That’s really impressive.”

At my sincere admiration, Camilla looked a bit embarrassed.

“I wanted to help you. If we get caught because of me, I’d feel sorry.”

At some point, I found myself walking toward Camilla. But standing in front of her, my lips moved but I didn’t know what to say.

“What? What is it? Suddenly…”

Afraid that opening my mouth would result in strange sounds, I just awkwardly hugged her. My heart was pounding so hard that my face felt hot.

Camilla seemed a bit surprised but didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved closer, slipping one leg between mine.

“No. Camilla. I’m just grateful.”

I was actually quite embarrassed. When I was exhausted and groaning, Camilla had been training her body so she wouldn’t be a burden.

Thinking about it, I hadn’t appreciated her teachings. I’d only thought about how difficult it was. But Camilla was not only risking her life for this contact, but even changing her body.

For me, or perhaps for us.

Camilla, buried in my chest, shook her head slightly.

“It was fun though. Exercising with you.”

“Was it?”

“I liked sharing something with you. It made me feel accepted.”

A different kind of excitement stirred within me than when I’d seen Camilla’s body. This was a first for me.

I hadn’t eaten anything so I was hungry, but unconsciously I was tilting Camilla’s head back. Though surprised and shy, her eyes sparkled with anticipation for what was coming.

Would a kiss cool this heat? With somewhat selfish thoughts, I kissed her. Camilla’s calloused hands stroked my neck and caressed my back.

“Haa.”

Even after our lips parted, I felt more breathless. But I couldn’t look Camilla straight in the eye. It was somehow embarrassing. Yet if we stayed any closer, I didn’t think we’d leave on time.

“S-sorry. Let’s get ready.”

As I tried to pull away, Camilla held me and gave me a quick kiss. Very briefly.

“…Okay.”

Though we had to separate, Camilla seemed as parched as I was.

* * * * *

…It was definitely her earlier.

“…Wow.”

Instead of Camilla, a man I wouldn’t want to get close to was standing before me.

“Is this… special makeup?”

“Are you stupid?”

The voice was definitely Camilla’s. I had to look two, three times in disbelief.

First, her hairstyle was different. The red hair that had reached her chest was now a greasy ponytail typical of an unemployed man. Anyone could see it was carelessly cut and tied with a rubber band to save on haircut costs.

“Oh, this? Cooking oil.”

“…And what’s that white powder?”

“A bit of breadcrumbs? Looks like dandruff, right?”

Her face was covered in freckles, her eyebrows stuck together like seagulls, and I have no idea where she found those horn-rimmed glasses. To put it kindly, they were horn-rimmed glasses, but they looked more like a bicycle perched on her face.

“…How did you change your body?”

“I can’t hide my chest. It’s a bit large… so what else could I do? I had to make my belly bigger. I also hid my protective vest and knife. With a towel around my neck, it’s perfect. Oh, this is nice.”

As she wrapped a towel that read ‘Buttmack Mountain Lovers Club’ around her neck, the person I knew completely disappeared. In her place was a basement-dwelling NEET who’d never exercised, stretching his neck and glancing around slowly and furtively.

“Ah. But it’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“Because of your belly?”

“No. My chest. I’m wearing layers… what should I do? I think I’m sweating between them.”

Camilla stuck her tongue out slightly. Blood rushed to my body—not to my lower half, but to my fists. She looked too much like that… nuisance who never left the room above mine at the boarding house.

“Hmm. It’s still not enough.”

Yet Camilla looked in the mirror, dissatisfied. Then she took out a chocolate wrapper and chewed half of it noisily.

“…What are you doing?”

“I’m going to smear this around my mouth later.”

She’s first-class. Camilla is definitely first-class. A top model isn’t just about having a pretty face.

“Hey, what’s that smell…?”

“Canned mackerel from breakfast. You should apply this too. It’s edible oil. And this will fade a bit over time.”

“I should apply it too?”

Instead of answering, Camilla dipped her finger into the can. She came toward me and tousled my hair. The fishy smell hit me hard, but watching myself become less handsome in real-time in the mirror gave me a strangely unsettling feeling.

“Ah, while we’re at it, let’s trim your eyebrows too.”

Only Camilla would trim eyebrows with a surgical scalpel. I don’t know what she did exactly, but my forehead and the bridge of my nose seemed much clearer.

“Nice. I’ll take care of your grooming from now on. Oh, and that hair—it’s set with oil, so if you pour water on it, it should straighten out. If we’re discovered and need to escape, even a splash from your canteen will help create some confusion.”

* * * * *

I locked the safe house door securely. The floor hatch was covered with a mat soaked in mud. Remembering how it made a hollow sound when stepped on, I also laid metal plates here and there.

I left the truck in the fire station garage. If it’s something that could be stolen, just let it be stolen. We can find another elsewhere. I just hope that raiders will be distracted by the truck and pass by the safe house.

“Let’s go.”

Instead, I got a sedan. It’s small enough that six adult men could lift and move it if they worked together. Various warning lights greeted me, but that made it easier to use without worry. We’d have to abandon it anyway once we met our contact on the highway.

I packed all the small jewelry. Half the alcohol, sorted by type. Besides that, our mobile phones and laptops, and two boxes of canned food. It’s Kibele brand cultured meat from the convenience store, which we’ll hand over as a fee.

I took a KS-74U shortened rifle and a 1911 pistol. Both are weapons chosen for portability. Camilla tucked a hunting knife into her belly, and packed a Glock 17 pistol and an M4 carbine.

With personal firearms being so common, and cases of people being bitten by zombies even in cities, carrying weapons itself isn’t frowned upon, she said.

However, once we enter the city, rifles must be kept in portable bags, and only pistols can be carried openly.

“It’s a loophole.”

Camilla explained the reason in one word.

“The National Gendarmerie doesn’t distinguish between zombies and Elza people one by one. When zombies appear, they just open fire. Then they claim, ‘Those people had lethal weapons and attacked the gendarmerie, so we defended ourselves legitimately.’

They did the same when they indiscriminately slaughtered Liberation Corps members. They didn’t care whether civilians were present or not. They covered it up by saying they had no choice but to open fire because zombies appeared and were biting people. The newspapers wrote it up quite well.”

“What did they write?”

“Collateral damage.”

That’s the city we’re about to enter.

* * * * *

If I understood Camilla’s explanation correctly, entering a protected zone from a human non-protected zone is similar in many ways to getting a digital certificate without a personal mobile phone.

It’s difficult for ordinary companies to verify individuals. There are legal issues, and above all, it’s expensive. So they “work around it.”

‘You had no problems over there? Then we’ll accept you here too.’

But what if you’ve never been verified anywhere? A maze unfolds that’s worse than being transferred between departments on the phone. Here they tell you to get verification from there, and there they tell you to get verification from somewhere else.

In other words, if you can just get inside that “fence,” you can break through everything.

And brokers play the role of getting you inside that “fence.”

“They’re coming.”

As we waited under a huge billboard that read “Reading is the Duty of Elza Citizens,” a 6-seater van approached from a distance, spewing exhaust. Camilla and I took out our weapons and aimed at the van.

Eventually, the van stopped. A woman as imposing as two decent-sized men combined, and a man who looked capable of handling her, got out. The K-47 rifles in their hands looked like toys.

“Milan, right? And that tall guy is Caesar.”

Milan is Camilla’s alias, and Caesar is the name I chose.

“Yeah.”

Camilla was chewing chocolate, so her pronunciation was a bit unclear. The woman and man aimed at us, and we aimed at them.

The man slowly took out an infrared thermometer attached to his waist. “Procedure, you know?” After asking for understanding, he shot the beam at our foreheads. He tilted his head and then shot it at his wife as well.

“…Doesn’t the car have air conditioning?”

The man shook his head, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your temperatures are within normal range, but a bit high. But seeing that my wife’s is high too, well. The goods?”

“In the trunk. It’s open.”

The imposing woman circled around us, aiming her rifle. Camilla’s gun barrel followed her. The woman, with the rifle slung over her shoulder, lifted the box of canned food. I’m certain that woman could lift a continent if she wanted to.

“I heard you’d get a car in the city.”

The man asked. I nodded. The man held up his palm and folded his fingers one by one. The moment all fingers were folded, we lowered our guns.

“Let’s go.”

We gathered our belongings and got into the van.

“Just a moment.”

I gave a bottle of port wine I had prepared to the imposing woman. A pre-prepared bribe.

The woman looked me up and down without much interest, snatched the bottle, pulled out the cork with her bare hands, and drank it like juice.

“Khuhu…”

Finally, the woman smiled.

“I always get hungry when I come here. How about you? Especially you, shorty. You look like you eat a lot.”

“Want some chocolate?”

“Sure.”

Camilla held out a half-crumpled bag with greasy hands. The imposing woman ate half and gave the rest to the man. The man seemed pleased too, smiling broadly.

“Well, let’s hurry before we get hungry. We should have dinner in the city, right?”