Ch.614Episode 22 – The Kazinsky Test

The moonlit café had forgotten its daytime bustle. The atmosphere was as quiet as the edge of the world.

The clock on the wall seemed frozen. Behind the counter, a barista flipped through a magazine with a face weary of coffee aromas.

By the window, at the third table. A woman in a black coat sat there.

Staring at her cold cappuccino, leaving behind the shadows that had passed by the window countless times. Without impatience or expectation, she seemed to be killing time waiting for someone.

Emily muttered to herself, lowering her gaze.

“They’re late.”

In truth, she had never been certain that the other party would appear.

The kin who had left markings always said they would “arrive soon,” yet sometimes they never arrived at all.

When lost and scattered, wandering the desert, they often spent months searching.

Waiting without promise often ended in the form of resolute farewells. Hadn’t her parents and uncle left Emily’s side in such a manner, embarking on journeys beyond the horizon?

The markings were milestones inscribed with the hope that those who had set out on that journey would return.

“……”

The werewolf spent the night alone, leaning against her cappuccino.

She had damaged the marking that desperately called to her kin, waiting for someone who might discover the damaged trace to come here.

How much time had passed like that?

When moonlight stretched long across the table.

As cool air brushed against her skin, amid the faint, scattered scent of cappuccino.

-Jingle.

The sound of the door opening cut through the quiet night.

Episode 22 – The Kajisuki Test

In the streets where light had died, only shadows remained alive. In the chill flowing like rainwater into the sewers, Milo unconsciously turned up his collar.

“…It’s mighty cold.”

Milo reflexively hugged himself to protect his warmth, but what had set him in motion wasn’t the sudden downpour.

The body is a mirror reflecting the psyche.

Just as cheeks flush when facing someone you adore, the body always tends to react one step ahead of emotions.

Thus, at the tips of Milo’s fingers as he fastened his collar was the clumsy defensive instinct of those trying not to be discovered.

His hunched shoulders and careful steps revealed not fear of the cold, but clear worry and hesitation about what lay ahead.

The silhouette disappearing into the pitch-black alleyway was the projection of an unconscious habit of wanting to make oneself smaller.

There was no special reason for him to diminish himself.

He was simply born with a timid personality and modest desires.

Milo was introverted, if you’d call it that, and closed off, if that’s how you’d describe it.

But no one took issue with this.

No matter how quiet and reserved he was, in the human-centered society of the Lushan Federation, especially in the manual labor industry teeming with tough-minded machos,

There was absolutely no reason to dislike a “kind, diligent, and quietly hardworking therianthrope.”

Rather, the mole therianthrope who busily operated mining carts with his short legs was loved like a mascot among his colleagues and became an object of subtle envy.

But thinking about it carefully,

The evaluation of being a “kind, diligent, and quietly hardworking therianthrope” originated entirely from a human perspective.

In a sense, it was no different from being a “therianthrope who follows orders without complaint.”

That’s why Milo had lost two fingers long ago.

It was the background for when he diverted large quantities of dynamite from his former workplace at the request of his one and only therianthrope friend.

It had been an impulsive decision.

Sometimes he’d been seized by the urge to strike his boss’s head with a pickaxe when the man withheld wages with pathetic excuses about company difficulties, and he’d imagined secretly pushing low-class humans who mocked therianthropes’ physical characteristics down into the mine shaft.

But Milo had never, ever harmed so much as a single whisker on another being.

For a timid mole therianthrope, harming others was something possible only in imagination. He had always endured.

Yet, when the alley boss he’d reunited with mocked that timidity, even a shy mole couldn’t help but feel disillusionment.

Being introverted doesn’t mean one’s capacity is small. Although he had grown numb to reality and didn’t speak up in front of others like Quill, Milo once had dreams of his own.

A better life. Understanding and coexistence among all living beings.

The young therianthrope who had ventured into human society with those dreams returned to his homeland after a very long time, having lost something.

And he procured large quantities of explosives to prepare for terrorism.

But as his boiling anger subsided, regret washed over him in the face of the reality that belatedly became clear.

“……”

Milo stopped his wandering footsteps in the dark alleyway, hunched over. And he gently closed his trembling eyelids.

The young therianthrope who once delivered newspapers at dawn on his bicycle, supported his family through mining work, and studied at night school to change the world was no longer there.

He no longer had family to support, hadn’t changed the world, and had ended up as neither here nor there—just a criminal.

But….

‘There’s no way to put spilled water back, but if you stay still, you’ll lose even the chance to avoid greater regret.’

‘Are you going to leave Quill like this? Or will you put the coin I’m giving you into this phone and reach out to your friend one last time?’

‘Whatever decision you make, Mr. Milo, I’ll completely respect your choice.’

Standing still, Milo opened his eyes and turned his head toward the approaching car behind him.

There was his unforgettable ferret friend.

“Milo! What are you doing here, buddy!”

“…Quill.”

Quill flung open the passenger door and gestured. It was an urgent motion as if telling him to get in quickly.

Milo stared at him for a moment, then pondered again the words of the human woman whose impression was vague except for her red hair.

Whether there is a god or not.

Both choices and opportunities.

Will be determined by just one chance.

*

Late at night. Shadows crossed over the moonlit rooftops.

Veronica, with a gun case slung over her shoulder, sat on the railing and gave a hand signal. Camilla received the signal and, embracing her, used teleportation magic toward the next destination—the roof across the way.

In the midst of repeatedly transforming into flames and emerging from ashes,

The black eyes fixed on the mechanical device suddenly widened, and then she raised her left hand to stop the casting of the spell.

“What’s wrong?”

“Got a signal.”

Veronica briefly answered while looking at the detector linked to the transmitter’s magical waves.

What appeared on the display was a red dot blinking periodically. The location was nearby.

“It seems to have stopped somewhere. It’s close.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Camilla lowered her posture, approached the edge of the roof, and surveyed the area. If the mechanic introduced by Francesca was right, there was a high probability that the target was within a radius of about 20 meters.

Was it because the night was deep? Or because of the rain that had come the night before?

The area was quiet, and the figures of two therianthropes walking steadily down the empty street were very clear.

“……”

“……”

As if in conversation, the two therianthropes were heading somewhere, mixing in gestures.

Their destination was an apartment building.

It was a very shabby building, not far from the therianthrope communal residence area.

Veronica approached carefully, stepping on gray tiles, and spoke in a low voice.

“Which room did they enter?”

“Sixth floor. Fourth from the left.”

Click. Veronica opened the wooden case, gripped the rifle, and crouched down.

Then naturally, without looking back, she took a magazine from the leather pouch.

“I’ll take care of that place. Hero, please keep an eye on the werewolves.”

As the sound of brass bullets clicking, clicking, pressing down the spring was heard.

The claw-like bolt bit the top round and advanced unhesitatingly toward the chamber.

Preparations were complete.

Veronica pressed her cheek against the stock, and a white breath suddenly escaped between her lips.

“…I’ll attend next week’s service diligently. So please illuminate that interior for me like moonlight falling on a lake.”

A pure white light gently dispersed from left to right as if brushing her eyes.

The saint twisted her lips and made a self-deprecating joke.

“This is why I often skip services, I guess.”

“You’re… religious, right…?”

“Of course.”

Doesn’t seem like it.

Camilla, who had been glancing at her, began to focus on the voices coming through her earpiece.

-‘Even if you get carsick, bear with it for a moment, Emily.’

-‘…Where are we going?’

-‘To Fenrih.’

*

Though in human form, can a werewolf truly be called human?

Emily could confidently answer “no.”

They had lived too long separated from human society, building their own clan. Even setting aside their history of being driven from their ancestors’ homeland and condemned as demons. Werewolves had been estranged from humans for far too long.

Born as humans but unable to live among them, they could not be considered human (人間).

Thus, the old ancestors named themselves “Lycan” instead of werewolf.

One might ask what’s in a name, but Lycan was more than just a species name. It was a symbol, a spirit, an identity.

Being estranged from human society meant being unfamiliar with the conveniences of civilization. It could also be interpreted as having established a unique society with new order, concepts, and spiritual world.

That’s why Lycans didn’t trust tools made of iron.

They trusted their sharp claws, relied on their tough fur and skin.

Rather than learning letters, they hunted according to their senses and better understood the resonance passed from mouth to mouth among themselves.

They heard the bell ringing in the village but didn’t know its meaning, and the value of coins exchanged in the market lost its significance.

Time consciousness and economic engineering were the quintessence of human civilization.

For Lycans, who were once human but now found human ways strange,

All of these were as incomprehensible as the realm of the unfathomable.

Because what mattered to them was the path led by the moon, the bonds forged in blood, and instinct.

“……”

In that sense, Emily couldn’t help but look with curious eyes at the back of her kinsman sitting in the “driver’s seat.”

Isn’t it strange that a Lycan would drive a car when they have perfectly good legs? How peculiar.

“When did you learn to drive?”

“Recently.”

The young Lycan answered in a gruff voice. Emily turned her gaze to the window, taking in the street scenery.

“Wolfgang used to say that someday our clan would mix into human society. I didn’t expect you, Shakan, to adapt the fastest.”

I wonder about Shakan. Is he trying to preserve the blood-bound solidarity and Lycan instincts as Fenrih leads?

Or.

Is he now following the legacy of the old leader who disappeared under the moonlight?

Emily asked her friend with a hint of curiosity and expectation. And the Lycan opened his mouth in a dry voice.

“Wolfgang is dead, Emily.”

“……”

“Remember that our leader is now Fenrih.”

“…Right.”

Of course, indeed.

Looking at the moonlight by the window, Emily leaned her forehead and was caught in memories.

Wolfgang. A respected and wise Lycan.

He had always wished for the clan to mingle with humans.

He dreamed of living as werewolves, not Lycans.

Other clans openly mocked him, saying your leader intends to dull the claws that are the pride of Lycans and pluck out all their fur and skin. Has he finally gone senile? But at least Emily hoped Wolfgang’s wish would come true.

However, Wolfgang’s long-held dream came to nothing.

The new leader told the clan to follow the traditions of Lycans, and those who refused to comply were dismantled under the moonlight.

Now within her clan, werewolves could no longer be found.

Only those who wished to remain as Lycans and the leader who guided them existed.

“……”

On the path toward those Lycans, Emily, who might be the only werewolf left in the Federation, began to reminisce about the past at the boundary between darkness and light.

Mom.

Uncle.

Wolfgang.

Desert and stars.

Moon.

Sea.

Markings.

Therianthropes.

And,

The last moment. The cute child cradled in her arms as they traveled together.

The child whose wounds were so severe that it was burdensome to carry alone. No way to treat them, and no knowing when clan members who noticed something suspicious might follow.

A lovely child. The child of the man she loved.

…I hope they’re no longer in pain.

“By the way, where did you leave the child?”

The kinsman in the driver’s seat asks as if something is strange. Emily slowly rolled her eyes as she looked out the window.

“The fever was severe. I left them temporarily at a shelter.”

“Without taking them to a hospital?”

“It’s expensive, isn’t it? And there aren’t places that accept therianthropes. But I heard rumors that the refugee camp shelter with the church’s saint would take them in.”

Shakan nodded slightly, saying, “I see.”

“That’s good. Let’s go pick them up when this is over.”

…Yes. After everything is over, I’ll go pick them up.

Emily removed her forehead from the window. And she began to stare at the Lycan ahead.

“Where is Fenrih now?”

*

Camilla, who had been listening to the werewolves’ conversation, removed her hand from the earpiece.

“Emily is moving toward Fenrih. She’s going with a werewolf named Shakan.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes, which were gleaming white, and spoke in a low voice.

“Milo and Quill are in conversation, but there’s nothing serious, just personal matters. Curious?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me.”

Camilla naturally leaned her upper body toward Veronica, and Veronica relayed the content of the two therianthropes’ conversation to her.

*

The old apartment building has a musty smell lingering in the air.

As if feeling both familiarity and a strange foreboding, Milo paced the corridor with restless gestures.

“Quill, where exactly is this place?”

“Home.”

The ferret therianthrope, who gave a short answer, showed a gentle smile.

“It’s where comrades stay, to be precise. We’ve moved recently. We’ve been wandering here and there as if possessed by wanderlust, but with a big job ahead, we need to settle down, don’t we?”

You should stay here for a while too. It’s a surprisingly comfortable place.

Quill, who had closed the keyhole, skillfully turned the handle to unlock the front door. He leaned his forearm on the doorframe and gestured for Milo to come in.

The unlit interior was as dark as a monster’s throat.

Should I go in or not?

After hesitating briefly, Milo gulped and began to step forward vigorously.

-Ting. Ting.

Could something go wrong?

Despite Milo’s tension from vague fears, the interior scene illuminated by magical lights was no different from any ordinary home.

As his tension eased, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Sit down. I’ll make you something.”

Quill, passing by him, began rummaging through the refrigerator with a smile.

Taking out a bread bag, he pointed to the darkened rooms with his finger and added:

“You can pick any room you like. Those guys will fall asleep anywhere as long as their backs touch something.”

“…Quill. I’ve been wanting to ask, who are these comrades?”

“They’re people who will help us with our work.”

Clatter.

The ferret therianthrope opened a bottle cap and was cutting a chunk of jam with a bread knife when he suddenly raised his head to look at Milo.

“But why are you suddenly asking that?”

In that instant, Milo began to consider what to say. However, perhaps due to nervousness, his tongue moved independently of his will.

“I was wondering if they were Alliance members.”

“Ah, they’re not on our side.”

They’re guests from across the sea.

Quill answered casually as he spread jam on black bread. Only his back was visible, but he seemed to have set aside any suspicious glances.

Perhaps there was no suspicion at all. The gleam in Quill’s eyes might have been pure curiosity like in childhood, or it might have been Milo’s imagination due to tension.

However.

The memory flashing through Milo’s mind now was a conversation with a man he had met in some back room.

‘…Mr. Milo. Have you seen any outsiders accompanying someone named Quill from the Canine-Feline Symbiosis Alliance? I mean someone who isn’t part of the Alliance but frequents their meetings or visits his residence.’

He doesn’t know the name. He doesn’t remember the face either.

The man was too ordinary and unremarkable for Milo to describe, but he could clearly recall every conversation they had.

What did he answer then? Right.

“…Quill. About that beer hall we went to.”

“Hmm?”

“That big man who approached you there. Was he one of your comrades?”

“You knew? You’re observant.”

Milo nodded slowly while watching his friend cutting cabbage. Yes, he had said that person was suspicious.

The man didn’t seem to have shown much interest in the big guy they met in the beer hall basement. Or did he show interest?

He seemed to have asked additional questions about him. He couldn’t remember well because he had received too many questions.

“……”

Creak. Milo sat on the chair and began to slowly recall the questions and answers exchanged with the man.

The first question that came to mind was about dynamite. The man’s interest seemed to be focused there.

“The dynamite I gave you. You still have it?”

Milo returned to Quill the exact question he had received from the man.

He was worried that his friend might have moved the items to another location. That he might have arrived too late.

And,

fortunately.

Quill’s answer didn’t deviate much from the response Milo remembered.

“I put that in the supply warehouse. Who told you not to move it carelessly?”

The ferret therianthrope looked at Milo with a smirk and added jokingly:

“You came at a good time. Since the date has been moved up to the day after tomorrow, let’s go together tomorrow and bring the stuff here.”

“…What are you saying? What date?”

“The flour is ready and the cooks have gathered, so isn’t it time to bake the bread?”

Thud.

A newspaper was spread out in front of the slightly dazed mole therianthrope.

《Four-Party Talks, Final Push in Negotiations…》

《Foreign Ministers’ Forced March Finally Ends.》

《Diplomatic Efforts to Remove Turbulence Surrounding International Disputes…. Joint Resolution to Clean Up Contaminated Areas in Southern Mauritania Continent.》

The ferret therianthrope, who had put down a plate with sandwiches and placed a knife beside it, took the chair opposite.

“It’s time, Milo.”

The therianthrope says.

“We should start soon.”

Let’s end this long night and raise the curtain on the struggle.

*

The therianthrope said.

The only way to break all this oppression and injustice is through resistance.

To this, the therianthrope thinks.

Is this really the right thing to do?

“……”

The Quill that Milo knew was a ferret with pure eyes.

Even in an alley without a ray of sunlight. He was a boy with eyes and dreams that shone brighter than any star.

But now, after years have passed and they’ve met again.

The boy with pure eyes was no longer present.

At least in Milo’s eyes, only a pitiful therianthrope chasing vain hope was visible.

That’s why.

“…That’s enough, Quill.”

He reached out to his friend who had gone far astray.

“It’s all over.”

“What is?”

“Don’t do it.”

Milo persuaded him.

Whether assassination or bombing, whatever it was, to give it up.

Because it was all futile. Don’t try anymore, stop right here.

Quill couldn’t understand at all.

“Why?”

When beliefs waver, the person’s reaction usually diverges in two ways.

One is to acknowledge and accept the possibility that one’s belief might be wrong. The other is to ignore and reject everything that contradicts one’s belief.

Usually, the majority choose the latter option.

It’s embarrassing to admit that one was somewhat lacking and ignorant, and the decision to overturn beliefs tends to cause psychological resistance.

That’s why people of all ages raise their voices and stubbornly insist even when they know they’re wrong.

In technical terms, this is called confirmation bias.

Intelligence agencies often referred to it as cognitive bias.

In other words,

No matter what Milo said to persuade him.

Those detailed explanations were unlikely to reach Quill’s mind.

Those who view beliefs as a means of violence typically thoroughly reject all claims and logic that contradict their beliefs.

Naturally, even a close friend could not be an exception.

“Are you asking because you don’t know? What you’re doing now isn’t in your right mind.”

“Milo. I thought you would understand.”

Of course, Quill didn’t even get angry.

He just looked at his friend with sad eyes, as if heartbroken.

Milo couldn’t believe even this attitude of his friend.

“I believed that even if other Alliance members didn’t, you would understand.”

“If I had known it would be this way, I wouldn’t have followed you from the start.”

“Then?”

Quill tilted his head.

“Milo, should I have gone out and held a picket sign for a protest as you said? Or should I have sabotaged railways or factory machines with dynamite? Even humans who help the Alliance can’t get a single line in the local newspaper, as if the world would have cared. It would be fortunate not to be dragged away by the security forces.”

“Even if I had to go to prison, that’s what I should have done!”

Milo pointed his finger and expressed his indignation.

Spit flew onto the dust settled on the table, and the shadow’s arm danced vigorously under the old magical light.

“Kill foreigners, foreign ministers to reclaim rights? Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“……”

“Killing a hero won’t improve Lulu’s life. Assassinating foreign ministers won’t allow us to leave the communal residence area…. And the palace and army headquarters? Do you think ramming a truck full of bombs will even cause a small crack? No, absolutely not. It will be blocked by triple, quadruple barriers. Only the person at the wheel will be crushed between the metal plates!”

The ferret therianthrope’s eyes, which had been staring at the mole therianthrope, widened in surprise.

As if asking where you heard that.

Milo, who noticed Quill’s bewilderment, hesitated with his pointing finger and swallowed dryly with a face that seemed to realize his mistake.

That’s when it happened.

-Rrrring!

The doorbell cut through the momentary silence and caught the attention of the two therianthropes.

Passing by the bewildered Milo, Quill looked through the peephole. Moistening his lips with his tongue, he muttered in a low voice.

“It’s them.”

“……”

“Milo. For now, please, stay still. Let’s talk later. Later….”

It felt like his heart was sinking heavily.

Quill silently looked at Milo. From beyond the door, there were still signs of people.

A low, rough voice and a thin, high voice. After the murmuring of several people ended with a short knock, an expectant silence followed.

Quill took a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob.

Milo unconsciously clenched his fist.

“……”

“Why are you opening so late?”

They were humans.

Beyond the door, the identity of the visitors was a pair of men and women.

No. To be precise, it wasn’t a pair. It was a group consisting of several men and one woman.

Quill met the gaze of a tall man looking down at him. And gently releasing the handle, he retorted in a disgruntled voice:

“If you’re not satisfied, why didn’t you put a footstool here?”

“…Pfft!”

Someone in the group tried to suppress laughter, but when the man at the front gave a warning look, the sound quickly subsided.

The group of men and women entered the apartment, and Quill locked the door as soon as they entered.

Milo stood with his back against the wall, glancing sideways at the group.

“…Just a moment.”

A man passing by the therianthrope stopped. It was the same man who had received the complaint-filled joke from Quill.

He looked down at Milo pressed against the wall, then slightly turned his head to look at the woman behind him.

Milo felt it.

It was a kind of instinct.

“Emily.”

That was,

a look of suspicion.

“Why do I smell the scent of a therianthrope I’m seeing for the first time today also coming from your body?”

*

“…We’re blown, we’re blown.”

Like a true wolf indeed.

Deliberately separating them from the therianthropes, even removing the scent, yet he still managed to smell it.

“Those two have been discovered. Your side is still okay, right?”

“The other therianthropes that Frederick took away are fine.”

“Good, then get ready-“

Veronica, who had been fidgeting with her lips, suddenly tensed her shoulders and forearms.

With her shoes perched on the railing.

Braiding her flying hair into a single strand, she gently closed her eyelids.

Her eyes, completely white, align with the scope to track the target.

And her finger, resting on the trigger guard,

finally gently embraces the cold curve.

“Fire.”

A silver flash crossed the night sky.