Rainy Night Dance (I)

There were thirty-six posts in all.

Karyl gazed down at the nightscape, calmly rubbing the blades that ran straight down along his wrists and palms with the index fingers of both hands.

The faint scraping didn't escape Wraith's ears. He lowered his head and glanced at Karyl's hands, tucked inside his cloak, then nodded thoughtfully.

A biting wind swept across the rooftop of the high-rise. Tonight was different from usual; it seemed even colder.

Below, countless spired buildings clustered together in a gloomy mass. Not far away stood an apartment building that looked deserted. It was in terrible disrepair now, but a few small details still allowed Karyl to glimpse its former splendor.

A few surviving shards of glass in the building's windows reflected the dazzling neon lights, refracting them into an unpleasant, fragmented glow. A few indistinct shadows flickered past behind them.

That was the Old District: much eerier than the New District, and without those GG signs from the factories. In fact, nearly half of the Old District didn't even have electricity.

"Should we wait, Karyl?" Wraith asked softly, his voice hissing.

Karyl didn't answer. He breathed calmly, but his fingers rubbed the blades faster and faster.

Wraith glanced at him with concern. In his eyes, Karyl had become a little strange after that conversation about the "countdown."

He didn't know whether the change was good or bad, but instinctively, he didn't like it.

"No... we won't wait, Wraith," Karyl said after a long silence. "But we'll need to change our plan."

Wraith nodded quietly, ready to listen.

"Along the border between the Old District and the New District, those Glory Warlord scum have set up thirty-six posts. They've even mounted heavy machine guns, divided their patrols into separate teams, and set up roadblocks."

Karyl's mouth curled into a faint, sardonic smile. "What a grand welcome. I'm flattered. Do you know what this means, Wraith?"

"I don't," Wraith replied. "But what do you need me to do, Karyl?"

His words made Karyl turn around. Ghost's expression looked unexpectedly complicated. After a moment, he spoke slowly.

"It means the people from the Skolevok Family are arriving tonight."

"There's only one road connecting Quintus's New District to the Old District. The Glory Warlords can't keep it closed for too long. Other gangs backed by nobles need that road, too."

"So it'll be tonight, Wraith."

"What do you need me to do?" Wraith asked again. "I'm ready, Karyl."

"No. Don't ask me what you should do, Wraith."

Karyl shook his head. "Everyone has their own opinions, their own ideas. You don't have to rely on my plans all the time. This is just a job. We're partners, and we're equals."

Wraith stared at him blankly.

"So tonight, I want you to do things your way."

Karyl smiled slightly. "All thirty-six posts are yours. Any method you like, Wraith. I'll cover the sound. As for the people from the Skolevok Family... I'll deal with them myself."

He laughed under his breath, his voice scattering into the midnight wind of Nostramo like broken words or a monster's growl.

Then, with a blue light in his eyes, he leaped down and vanished into the far end of the night before Wraith's eyes.

Acting alone.

For the second time.

Do it your way.

For the first time.

Wraith blinked, his heart pounding. He soon realized what was happening, so he imitated Karyl and took several deep breaths.

The cold, foul-smelling air entered his lungs, but when he breathed out, it had no scent at all. It even turned into warm mist that scattered into the air.

Wraith didn't yet know what that meant. He only thought it was fun, and it really did help.

But thirty-six posts.

What am I supposed to do?

Wraith crouched down and stroked the top of the Gargoyle's head. He hadn't given the Gargoyle a name, but not because he disliked its ugly, corroded, pitted surface. It was because the creature was incomplete.

It was missing a horn.

For some reason, Wraith didn't want to name it. Not at all. He didn't want to replace the image of the Gargoyle in his heart with a code name.

He slowly stroked the pitted Gargoyle beneath him until his palm had warmed its bronze head. Only then did Wraith speak and bid it farewell.

"Goodbye, Mr. One-Horned Gargoyle."

Wraith leaned down politely and whispered in the Gargoyle's ear, "I'm going to clear out thirty-six posts. Could you wish me luck?"

The Gargoyle didn't answer.

It continued to stare down ominously, its fangs protruding from its bronze lips, its claws scraping against the thick stone pedestal beneath it. It didn't respond to Wraith, but Wraith listened as if it had.

After a while, he blinked and suddenly laughed.

Wraith patted the Gargoyle's head affectionately, then stood up and leaped down in the same way Karyl had.

His ragged clothes snapped in the gale. The freezing mist hit him in the face, but he didn't even blink.

He soon landed—or, more precisely, on the roof of a building. Then he started running. This time, his steps were silent and noiseless, and a supple strength blossomed within him.

Leaping—climbing—pausing to observe. After three minutes of sprinting, Wraith quietly reached the top of a spire.

Earlier, Karyl had silently led him past all the posts. Wraith had memorized every position and anything else that might prove useful.

Karyl had said to be careful.

Faint voices came from below. Two people were talking. Wraith listened patiently, hoping to pick up useful information, but learned nothing.

He didn't want to know what methods to use to please men and women. That wouldn't help with what he had to do next.

So he continued on.

Wraith moved with great caution. He didn't wedge his fingernails into the gaps between the bricks and tiles, only pricking them slightly into the surface. Before every descent, he even checked repeatedly to make sure the foothold could really support his weight.

Fortunately, the spire was built from sturdy materials.

Soon, he had silently climbed to the top of a window in the spire. The window was open, and a long, black gun barrel protruded from it. Smoke swirled out from inside, billowing into the air.

"Just like I said, Bango, you're hopeless when it comes to this sort of thing."

A hoarse female voice spoke with exasperation.

"Quintus is full of brothels. Even if you don't want to pay, you can go down to the Lower District and find a few people to take care of things. Then you can sell them to a butcher shop and make some money. Why are you so hung up on that woman from the Shantytown? She's skinny as a damn skeleton!"

"She... she's different, Norse. She's different."

Bango stammered. "I think she's special. Really. She has beautiful eyes."

"Everyone's eyes are black! What can you even tell? Stop acting like an idiot, Bango. By the way, didn't you go and bring her something a few days ago?"

"..."

"Answer me, Bango!"

"Yes. I brought her a smoked haunch..."

"Whose goods?"

"The Gerturis Family's."

"Damn it, you idiot. You took smoked goods from the Gerturis Family and gave them to some commoner from the Shantytown? The other gangs will laugh their heads off at us. I've had enough. When this job's over, I'm taking you to see that woman."

"No, no, don't! Don't, Norse, you can't—"

"Can't what? You're not some green kid anymore! You're one of the Glory Warlords now. I'm telling you, Bango, you don't have a choice!"

Hearing that, Wraith frowned.

He couldn't fully understand what the two of them were talking about, but he keenly sensed an indifference in the woman called Norse that he couldn't stand.

She didn't see the workers and commoners from the Shantytown as people.

That made Wraith very unhappy.

He didn't like it.

Wraith released his left hand, letting his body turn effortlessly with gravity. The sharp, hard nails of his right hand scored deep grooves into the spire's brickwork. As he spun, they carved a deep circle into the surface.

Then he leaped through the window into the room. Wraith hadn't meant to hide his arrival, but he had still overestimated the two people's reaction speed. Or perhaps he had underestimated what he could do.

In the first second after entering the room, Wraith had already seized Norse's head with his long right hand. With a gentle tug, he sent blood spraying.

As for the man called Bango...

In Wraith's eyes, his expression had already changed ever so slightly. His worry and embarrassment were turning into deep fear. His mouth opened and closed, as if he were still trying to persuade Norse not to go and bother someone else.

"Goodbye, Bango."

Wraith nodded at him. "Karyl said that some of you weren't born bad. You only joined a gang because you had no other choice. But things changed after that, and we can't forgive you in the dead's place."

Wraith swung his left hand and ended Bango's life.

He knew many ways to kill, but he chose to give Bango the quickest, almost painless sleep.

Thirty-five left.

After dropping Norse's head, he wiped the blood on his clothes. Wraith went to the window of the spire. He looked at the black firearm with its long barrel, then reached out and cut the barrel off with his fingernails.

He turned around and sat on the windowsill, then took turns using his right index and middle fingers to whittle the tip of the barrel. Half a minute later, the heavy gun barrel had become a sharp, black spike.

Wraith gripped it and swung it like Karyl. A sharp whistle flashed through the air and vanished. It wasn't quite the right length for his needs. Karyl's blades left a long edge extending from the wrist and palm.

But it would do.

Wraith smiled with satisfaction, then leaped down and vanished into the night.

The night was still young. Thirty-five more posts awaited his visit.