v2c4 - 2
Stepping into the courtyard, a girl with a fleeting impression greeted them under the moonlight, as always.
She smiled quietly—slightly shyly.
On rainy days, on windy days, daytime or even nighttime.
This girl’s time would never flow or shift again. Five years ago, on that day, her future was cut off. What remained now was, literally, just an afterimage.
Yet even so… those left behind clung to memories of days gone by.
To hold onto fading recollections, to drag them out just a little longer—they kept portraits or mementos close, replaying their memories.
It wasn’t attachment.
That’s what it means to be human.
Humans should be that way.
So… “—What’s the meaning of this?” Fixing her gaze on Lucie Škoda’s illusion, Dominica spoke. “The duel’s tomorrow at noon. Or were you planning to attack me in my sleep?”
“…If you were an opponent I could beat that way, I’d do it.”
The young man—Toru the saboteur—said.
“There’s a few things I don’t get.”
“…Don’t get?”
Dominica finally shifted her gaze from the illusion, turning to the two behind her.
Next to Toru was the silver-haired girl—Chaika, whose face somehow resembled Lucie’s. Toru’s sister Akari was nowhere in sight. Was she planning an ambush, or preparing something else?
“You’re one of the assault team said to have directly taken down the Gaz Empire’s emperor, right?”
“That’s true.”
Dominica answered, her expression puzzled.
Why was this young man asking such a thing to her now?
“You don’t recognize her?”
Toru gestured to Chaika beside him.
“Recognize? What do you mean?”
Dominica narrowed her eyes, studying Chaika.
At the same time, Toru narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Dominica.
His was the gaze of someone probing—measuring.
“…I see.”
Toru nodded, as if satisfied with something.
“Don’t know what that was about, but you done?”
“Yeah. For now.”
Toru said, approaching Dominica.
Two short swords hung at his waist, but he made no move to touch them, and there wasn’t a hint of killing intent or fighting spirit. It didn’t seem he was here to break the duel agreement and attack now.
“You’re a dragoon cavalier, right?” Toru said, looking around. "Is it really okay to fight without your dragon?”
“You want me to call it? You wouldn’t have a one-in-a-million chance of winning if so.”
“…Probably not.” Toru passed Dominica, drawing closer to Lucie’s illusion.
“—But hey.”
“What?”
Called by Dominica, Toru turned back, standing right beside Lucie.
“Don’t get close to my sister and don't lay your hands on her.”
“This isn’t your sister. It’s just an illusion.”
Toru said flatly.
Not with pity. Not with mockery. Just stating fact as fact.
An illusion. An afterimage. She knew that as well.
But—
“The dead don’t die again. The dead don’t get hurt again. They just… fade away.”
“…”
“Like this—”
As he spoke—Toru’s right hand blurred.
“—!?”
A faint whooshing sound.
It resembled the approach of an arrow on the battlefield—but—
“You!?”
The next instant, with a sharp sound, the girl’s phantom vanished.
Nothing remained afterward. Truly—nothing.
“What did you do!?”
Dominica strode toward Toru, grabbing his collar.
This young man had likely thrown something—destroying the projector.
“Need your sister’s phantom by your side all the time to feel secure like a baby huh?” Toru said coolly, meeting Dominica’s furious gaze without flinching. “Are your feelings for your sister that shallow?”
“W-what?”
“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone important. I’ve been there too.”
Toru said in a challenging tone.
“…So what?”
As Toru said, countless people lost family or close friends in that long warring era. It was so common it hardly needed stating proudly.
“It’s burned into me.”
“…What?”
“I can’t forget even if I want to about that person. Whenever I close my eyes, and I remember. I can’t help but remember. So vividly, over and over, I can’t think of anything else.”
“…My…” Dominica growled. “You saying my feelings for my sister are weak?”
“Maybe.” Toru stared at Dominica with a cold expression. “Keeping a portrait close. Treasuring mementos. Anyone does that but leaving your sister’s afterimage standing in the courtyard, visible from every room, rain or shine, day or night—what’s that about?”
“…”
Dominica faltered.
Because part of her, deep down, acknowledged Toru’s words.
She hadn’t thought about it. She’d told herself it was what humans did—what they should do. It might’ve been less a desire and more a sense of duty.
“You’re not actually that sad, are you?”
“What!?”
Her grip on Toru’s collar tightened instinctively.
His toes lifted slightly off the ground. But the saboteur youth showed no fear, narrowing his eyes as if peering into Dominica’s soul.
“Losing your beloved sister, but not feeling sad enough—you hate that part about yourself, so you’re forcing yourself to feel sad, aren’t you?”
“…You… mocking me?”
Why would he say such a thing—this youth?
Even if it were true, what benefit was there in pointing it out, angering her? He couldn’t think she’d thank him joyfully for it.
“…Are you pissed?”
Toru asked, probing.
Was angering her his goal? True, losing herself to rage could create an opening. And neither dragoon cavaliers nor dragoons were immortal. A single, fatal strike in a moment’s lapse could kill them.
“…” Dominica sighed once, releasing Toru’s collar. “Should’ve done this tomorrow morning. After a night’s sleep, even I’d cool off.”
“Is that so?”
Toru nodded, straightening his collar.
He didn’t seem particularly frustrated. Was angering Dominica not his goal?
Or—
“…Projector.”
A hesitant voice cut between Dominica and Toru.
Dominica’s gaze, still tinged with anger, turned. Chaika flinched for a moment but, steeling herself, said:
“Fix. Apology.”
Rhe silver-haired girl looked genuinely remorseful.
Perhaps she’d come along but hadn’t been told what Toru planned. Or maybe Toru’s actions were a spur-of-the-moment decision.
“Good with machines.”
“…Fine.” After a moment’s thought, Dominica nodded. “Do what you want. But I won’t trade the projector for the remains.”
The projector and Lucie’s illusion were valuable, but not irreplaceable.
“Of course. Repair. Tomorrow. Before noon—before duel, return.”
Chaika nodded repeatedly.
It likely meant she had no intention of using Lucie’s illusion for underhanded tactics.
“We’ll meet your demand for a fight, no question.”
Toru added, shrugging beside her.
But he was a saboteur. How much his words could be trusted was unclear.
“I hope so.”
Tossing out the parting shot, Dominica turned on her heel.
Without Lucie’s phantom, there was no reason to stay here.
Though for Dominica now, a room or a roadside made little difference. A place to be didn’t matter. Her true place had long been lost. Wherever she was, it was merely temporary.
But—
“…”
Echoing in her mind were Toru’s earlier words.
“You’re not actually that sad, aren’t you?”
“—No such thing.”
Dominica said, as if convincing herself.
“No such thing. I’m sad. I am sad. But—”
Toru was wrong.
But not entirely off the mark…
“No such… thing.”
Muttering, Dominica left the courtyard.
Leaving the courtyard, Toru headed for the Svetlana.
Though Akari had already checked the assigned guest room, there was always a chance of oversight. Toru decided the final confirmation should be done outside the mansion.
“Toru.” As they exited the Škoda mansion’s entrance, Chaika, walking half a step behind, called out. “Why…?”
She clutched the projector she’d retrieved from inside the mansion to her chest.
The device, about the size of an armful, had a shuriken Toru threw lodged in its casing’s edge. A small stone would’ve sufficed for breaking it—but destruction wasn’t the main goal, so he’d chosen a familiar shuriken, which he could aim precisely, to make repairs easier but he hadn’t informed Chaika of these details beforehand.
He felt bad, but knowing her thoughts showed instantly on her face—he’d judged that telling her might cause complications.
“What? Why what?”
“Such… cruel… things.”
“…Oh.”
Toru grimaced.
She was likely referring to breaking the projector and the harsh words he’d flung at Dominica. To an onlooker, it must’ve seemed like Toru had suddenly turned vicious.
“I just wanted to check if whether Dominica would get angry being told that.”
Toru said, recalling Dominica’s face.
She had been angry. Angry, but—
“Chaika. You—”
Toru stopped beside the Svetlana, turning to face Chaika.
He hesitated for a moment but pressed on deliberately.
“In your case, it’s your father. If someone said something similar to you, what would you think?”
“…Father? Huh?”
Chaika halted, her expression bewildered.
She seemed unsure of what Toru’s question meant.
“Like, ‘You’re not actually that sad about your father’s death, are you?’”
“…Muu?”
Chaika furrowed her brow, letting out a low hum.
(…Yeah, that’s how it’d be.)
Toru muttered to himself.
Grief, over time, diffuses within a person. It’s not forgotten. But the mind grows accustomed to carrying it. Whether you’re still grieving—it fades from daily awareness.
It’s probably like pain.
Even if a wound hasn’t healed, the pain doesn’t stay constant. Usually, the moment of injury is the most intense. Unless the wound is reopened, it settles into a dull ache—neither healed nor gone, but less noticed.
So if someone told Toru, “You’re not grieving Hasmin’s death,” he wouldn’t get angry. He might be confused. But he’d just reflect, confirm the lingering sadness, and deny their words.
Getting angry—doesn’t that mean you secretly agree, deep down?
Feeling like your effort to grieve, to force grief, is being denied.
So—
“Cry. Scream. Already gone. But—sad. Truly.”
“Right.” Toru nodded. “But you wouldn’t get angry, would you?”
“…Nn.”
Chaika nodded slightly.
“But. I—Father. Didn’t see die.”
“Dominica’s the same, right?”
Not being present at a loved one’s death might make it harder to fully grasp. But would being told that spark anger?
Toru couldn’t shake the sense that something was off about the dragoon cavalier’s behavior.
And—
(Having the remains means she’s one of the ones who directly killed the Taboo Emperor, right?)
The lord of Del Solant was another.
“Impossible, you’re supposed to be dead!”
Roberto Abarth had definitely said that.
Though unconfirmed, it wasn’t aimed at Toru or Akari. And at the time, only Toru, Akari, Roberto, and Chaika were present.
So the “person supposed to be dead” Roberto meant was likely Chaika.
Truth be told, until meeting Chaika—no, until the Gillette Corps revealed her identity—Toru hadn’t known the Gaz Emperor had a daughter.
Even about the Gaz Emperor, his background was murky… it was said that, except for a few close aides, no one knew his private life.
But not just the Gaz Emperor—kings, emperors, rulers are “public figures.” If they have family, their existence is widely known, and hiding it completely isn’t easy.
Yet… for the Gaz Emperor, not only his daughter’s existence but even whether he had a wife or concubines was unknown. Probably even the Gaz Empire’s citizens didn’t know.
So.
(Only a few would know Chaika’s face.)
Even more so for foreigners.
And the words “supposed to be dead.”
From this… Toru suspected Roberto Abarth saw Chaika’s face during the Gaz Empire’s capital assault.
For instance—when storming the emperor’s chambers.
If the castle was about to fall, the Gaz Emperor would naturally gather aides and family to plan an escape. Thus, during the capital assault, Chaika might’ve been at Arthur Gaz’s side. If the assault team that stormed in killed them, it wouldn’t be strange for Roberto Abarth to know Chaika’s face.
Chaika’s memory gaps could stem from the fear and shock of that moment… it mostly added up.
But… if so.
Dominica, another of the heroes, should’ve seen Chaika’s face too.
Yet she didn’t know Chaika. Such a distinctive—and beautiful—girl would surely trigger a memory upon first meeting.
What was going on?
Perhaps the assault team didn’t always act together.
Of course, depending on specifics, it’s entirely possible Dominica never saw Chaika’s face—
The possibility that Dominica wasn’t at the scene of the Gaz Emperor’s death.
Namely—
“Something’s up.”
Toru said, pulling a wicker basket from the Svetlana’s cargo bed.
It held tools and equipment taken from the Acura village. During the Abarth mansion infiltration, their goal was theft, so they prioritized mobility and didn’t use them, but facing a dragoon cavalier head-on would require heavy armament.
“Something here feels off.”
“Off?”
“I provoked her to figure out why, but…”
“…?”
Chaika tilted her head, clearly not following.
“I’ll explain later.”
Toru said, checking the basket’s contents.
Chaika watched him for a moment, then—
“…Toru.”
She called out, her expression slightly strained.
“What?”
“If… life in danger… escape… recommended.”
“…”
Toru closed the basket’s lid and turned to face Chaika.
Peering straight into her face—she seemed embarrassed, trying to look away. But Toru reached out, cupping her cheeks to stop her.
“Mui!?”
“…Listen here.” Toru said firmly. “That kind of concern—we don’t need it.”
“…Toru?”
Chaika’s eyes widened.
Staring into her purple eyes—deeper still—Toru continued.
“I’m a saboteur. Treating others’ lives, and my own, as disposable is my trade.”
Mind, body, skills—even life itself—are tools for achieving the goal.
That’s a saboteur’s fate and pride.
“…But.”
Chaika’s expression looked on the verge of tears.
She probably hadn’t considered—or fully grasped—what her “collecting the corpse” meant for others.
Being hated. Being resented. Or losing something as a result.
Like—a comrade’s life.
But what she was collecting wasn’t just any remains. The Taboo Emperor’s corpse. Its presence, even in death, was too vast—affecting many fates. To claim it, risking lives was natural.
Chaika likely had the resolve to risk her own life.
But staking others’ lives on her whims required a different kind of resolve. Expecting a girl who just wanted to mourn her father to have that was cruel.
It was like telling someone, “Die for my desires.”
But…
“Please.” Toru softened his expression, forcing a wry smile. “Put your desires first.”
“Toru?”
“At least don’t shove your wishes aside to spare us. If you do, it’s not worth serving you, my master.”
“…”
Chaika blinked repeatedly, as if frightened.
She was likely realizing, belatedly, what hiring saboteurs meant.
“I told you, right? My purpose is to fulfill yours. If you waver, it’s tough on me.”
“Toru… I…”
Chaika gasped, struggling to form words.
And then—
“—Whoa!?”
The next instant, Toru shoved Chaika away, leaping back with the recoil.
Something black shot between them.
It struck the Svetlana’s exterior, bounced off, and spun in the air.
“…Tch.”
Toru reached out, snatching it.
It was a shuriken. Painted black to avoid reflecting light. Though the design varied, every saboteur carried a few tucked away.
So—
“Akari!” Toru turned, glaring at his sister emerging from the Škoda mansion. “What the hell are you doing!?”
“—Anii-sama.” Akari said, half-lidding her eyes. “That was dangerous.”
“You’re the one who’s dangerous!” Toru tossed the shuriken back lightly. “What was that for—”
“Trying to kiss under cover of night—so like Anii-sama.”
“What are you talking about!?”
Though he shouted, Toru vaguely understood her point.
When he’d held Chaika’s face to keep her from looking away, Akari must’ve thought he was trying to steal a kiss. It was a ridiculous assumption—but explaining to Akari was pointless.
“A kiss.”
“We didn’t! And—you’re throwing blades over something like that!?”
“I’ll throw. I will throw.”
“Don’t act proud!”
“After all, it’s too late once a child’s conceived.”
“…Huh?” Toru frowned, not following. “What’re you on about?”
“Don’t you know, Anii-sama?” Akari spoke solemnly, as if revealing a great truth. “Kissing makes babies.”
“…Your knowledge is so skewed.”
Feeling an inexplicable exhaustion, Toru’s shoulders slumped.
He sighed, shifting focus, and asked:
“So… how’d it go?”
“Just as Anii-sama suspected. I checked the mansion thoroughly—” Akari said, tucking the shuriken away. “I looked into what seemed like Dominica Škoda’s room, but there’s no sign it’s been used.”
That was why Akari had acted separately.
While Toru and Chaika distracted Dominica in the courtyard, Akari had scoured the mansion—including Dominica’s private room, which Toru hadn’t seen before. Finding the “remains” would’ve simplified things; they could’ve stolen them and fled. But Toru hadn’t expected that much.
“It’s been bugging me since we cooked.”
The kitchen showed no signs of use.
Even if she was used to battlefields, there’d be no reason to cook outdoors with a kitchen available. The stove had spiderwebs. Clearly, no fire had been lit there for at least a year, maybe more.
“The bed showed no signs of use either with dust covered the floor.”
Just like the rooms assigned to Toru’s group.
“To be precise… Dominica Škoda’s room had slight signs of use. But not recent. That room hasn’t been touched in over a year either.”
“Damn. I’d rather my guess was wrong…”
Toru sighed.
“…?”
Beside him, Chaika looked between Toru and Akari, puzzled.
She probably didn’t grasp the meaning of their conversation—or Toru’s final conclusion.
“What now, Anii-sama?”
Akari climbed onto the Svetlana’s cargo bed, pulling down her own wicker basket. Unlike Toru’s, hers held not just weapons and armor but apothecary tools—mortars, medicines, poisons, and explosives—making the ceramic bottles clink coolly.
“She’s not someone we can beat fair and square.”
“Of course we’re not fighting fair.” Toru shrugged. “For now, I’ll explain my strategy in the vehicle. Then, Chaika, Akari, give me your input.”
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