A lightly engaged battle—perfect timing for a field test of the new Identities.
Back when we were moving by bus through the Backstreets, this used to happen all the time.
Ah, that's a memory too. Feels like the atmosphere was better back then than it is now.
Everyone had their own quirks and charms, so getting to know them was part of the fun.
"Heehee~"
Ah, why was I so hyped?
Maybe my personality had shifted a little because of the Identity.
Still, I was on the mild side. Other people changed until they were basically the Identity's original owner.
Right, I forgot to mention that.
This time, I'd obtained two new Identities. Both gold! Rare stuff.
One was put on hold for some reason or another... and the one I'm using now is Liu.
And a Grade 3 at that!
Not a section captain or anything, just a regular Association member.
Still, it's the highest grade among the Identities that have appeared so far, so let me brag a little.
Maybe I'm a bit competent?
...Ahem. I'm starting to get embarrassed, so let's stop with the self-admiration.
But I'm leaving an opening on purpose and they still aren't taking the initiative? I'm not really the type to go first.
Hmm, then I'll start by...
Whoosh!
"Take this!"
"...Eek!"
I casually caught the hook that came flying at me in a surprise attack with one hand.
That was close. I'd been spacing out.
Well, since I'd grabbed his arm, this was actually an opportunity.
"Wait, let go. Let go!"
"Who just lets go when someone tells them to? Stay still..."
I took a light step.
The footwork shifted my weight downward. A rooted stance—the foundation of a powerful strike.
From below, I slowly drove the force born from that weight upward. From above, I added the rotation.
I squeezed every last bit of movement out of the elasticity in the joints.
What emerged was a devastating blow.
"Down you go!"
Boom!!!
"Ghk..."
Nice. A clean hit to the side!
I shook off the embers that had bloomed lightly on my hand and prepared the next attack.
Not that it was anything more than beating on a staggered enemy like a sandbag.
"Haaah..."
After taking a heavy hit and stumbling, the pirate crossed his arms overhead and took a defensive stance.
Defense, huh... Right. He should've done that sooner.
Then he would've realized a lot faster that his lower body was completely open.
I casually kicked the enemy's knee with my right foot.
Thud!
"Agh..."
When the enemy couldn't endure the pain and loosened his arms, I brought my right foot down to the ground.
Another rooted stance.
I loaded all the strength in my body into my fist and drove it toward the enemy's solar plexus.
"Hup!"
Boom!!!!!
"......"
"Phew, got one."
The numbers looked about the same, so were the others done already?
Hmm... probably over soon. I could rest a little after this.
"If our boss finds out about this... he won't let you get away with it... so you guys... should at least... beg for mercy... now..."
Step, step...
"W-wait, why do you keep cutting me off! Don't come closer!"
As Ms. Ishmael kept closing in on the thug, she seemed to catch something in his words and slightly parted her lips.
"Ah, that's convenient."
"......"
"If there's a boss, then we don't need to waste time fumbling around here. There are countless containers, and we won't need to force them open one by one just to smell rotting corpses. You still have one hand free, right?"
"......"
Ah, she's thinking.
"P-please... spare me..."
"Point to where the boss is. On this map."
Ms. Ishmael was holding a Bluefin Harbor tourism pamphlet.
When did she even pick that up?
Anyway, the thug pointed with a trembling hand to one of the locations...
"Ishmael. Wait..."
Crack!!
"All right, we've got a destination. Let's go, shall we?"
Crazy woman. At least pretend to listen to orders.
She'd definitely said something like, "Tell me if you need anything~ I won't go off doing things on my own without an order~" the last time she'd given us a warning.
Ms. Ishmael walked out with only the corpse left behind, utterly unfazed.
I really can't understand her at all. What's the logic behind her actions?
"...What are the odds that the LCCB employees we were supposed to meet here are still alive...?"
"That would depend on how much money they think we're worth."
"...Then they could already be dead."
"At the very least, we need to find the bodies. Something will come out of it."
Hearing the conversation between Mr. Gregor and Ms. Ishmael, Sinclair's expression darkened.
"...If all we end up facing is their cold corpse... then I don't think I'll be able to forgive you, Ms. Ishmael..."
"Huh, me?"
"No. Us—for not even trying to do anything to save them..."
...He's too kind for his own good.
"Faust."
"Faust is listening."
"About Ishmael—are you sure it's fine to just leave her like that?"
"Whether you are asking about insubordination or the prisoner's emotional state... Faust can answer either way. But in this situation, Faust's deduction will not be of much help."
As Faust finished her calm analysis, Ms. Otis immediately barged into the conversation.
"Such insubordination and unilateral action have, throughout history, been grounds for summary punishment. Manager. I understand that you do not have the authority to dispose of a prisoner, but I would advise that a comparable punishment is necessary for future management."
"Otis, you always take my side. Or at least, almost always..."
"I did once lead a few... subordinates myself, so I can fully appreciate the strain on your nerves, Manager."
"I really don't know if I can manage Ishmael... Even if Ishmael's behavior seems excessive, in this operation... it might actually be the right course of action. If Ishmael suddenly decided to quit because of this..."
This person was worrying over nothing again.
"Why does that matter, Manager? The number thirteen being off is a secondary issue."
"...You mean to exclude Ishmael entirely?"
"I came here after wandering for a long time from a very distant place, Manager. I did so after reading only the single line written in my employment contract. I was fully prepared for the hardships and conflicts that would arise on the journey toward that goal, and even for side effects such as the departure of comrades. In fact, I would consider those to be natural elements."
Otis's face, which had been serious until then, turned sly for an instant.
"Ah, of course, I will always remain with the Manager."
"......"
...That was a groan impossible to ignore.
As I quietly stared at Dante's heavy-looking clock head, I pulled hard on the minute hand right when the other prisoners were leaving the alley.
"Aaagh! What's with the sudden grab?!"
"You looked like you were worrying yourself sick for no reason. You were definitely sitting there thinking something stupid like, 'Maybe the other prisoners don't care about teamwork at all~'"
"How did you..."
"Ah~ ah~ I can't hear you. Don't ask how I knew. Dante's thoughts are all the same."
"......"
"Just ignore what Otis said. Even if she talks like that, she might still have some uncharacteristic affection tucked away in a corner of her heart. Everyone says they don't get attached to each other, but it's not like they can have no attachment at all. We're all cooperating while dying together,"
"But everyone came here because they wanted something, didn't they? Even Ishmael this time..."
"This person is really saying something frustrating. So what, was Ishmael treating everyone with complete coldness until now? If you're human, you can't help but think, even a little, that this one might be better. Take Heathcliff, for example—he was a total bastard at first, but now he's more or less normal."
"Ah..."
"That was a long explanation, but that's the gist of it. So... hmm... what I'm saying is that Dante is doing well. I don't really know what right I have to judge, but I think Dante is a good Manager. Even if there are shortcomings..."
When I finished speaking, Dante was staring at me blankly.
Had they really not expected me to step up this much?
...Given everything I've done so far, that made sense.
"...Did that help a little?"
"...It certainly does help. Thank you."
"I have to do something like this. I already drew a troublesome Identity recently."
"That..."
"Sara! Dante! Aren't you coming? At this rate, we might leave you behind!"
Just before Dante could say anything, Ms. Rodion's voice came from outside the alley.
"Ah, I guess we took too long."
"Maybe. Let's go."
Dante and I slowly left the alley.
To even worry about that much... they really are a good person.
Even if I can't exactly call myself a good person... maybe I can at least support someone like that.
...I'm getting sentimental for no reason. Let's just keep walking.
Right now, just dealing with what's in front of us is already more than enough.
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