Kitty Killer Isn't Very Cold

"Uh... then you... really do look young..."

And so they stared at each other awkwardly. No one knew who started it... probably Cole and Kate. In any case, the room that had once been filled with shouting and crying was now unexpectedly full of laughter and cheer.

Wiping at the corners of her eyes, which were nearly tearing up from laughter, Mrs. Cole held her stomach and said:

"All right... it was indeed wrong of me to treat you like a child... How about this? May I offer you a song that has been passed down through my family?"

Mrs. Cole's words made the children even more excited. The boys nodded with their mouths hanging open and immediately said they would get the instruments, while Kate and Matilda exclaimed in unison:

"Mom, you're going to sing?!"

"That song?"

"Mm... Mom doesn't know any other songs... But... I do miss it. Ever since Andy fell ill, I sealed away this guitar... Oh, it was to reduce wear and tear, so it could fetch a good price later..."

Taking the guitar from the children, Mrs. Cole looked at her sleeping, unresponsive husband. As if recalling the past, she pressed her lips together, gave a bitter smile, and lightly plucked the strings.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair~"

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

"Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme..."

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme...

"Remember me to one who lives there~"

Please give my regards to someone who lives there.

"He once was a true love of mine."

He... was once my true love.

When the song ended, Nana's expression had gradually twisted along with the lyrics. Now, she looked thoroughly shaken.

Listening to a married woman sing something like that to her, the black-haired little cat repeatedly checked whether Andy was awake, afraid that the ill-tempered big cat, still sick, might misunderstand something.

"Um... aren't these lyrics kind of unlucky...?"

"Yes. Back when the Bruce family still lived in Victoria, it was the farewell song my mother gave my father at his funeral... They say it is a melody passed down through the family. My father also said Grandfather had instructed him that it was something the Bruce family must carry on... Of course, I think it is simply an ordinary tune... From a performer's perspective, it probably isn't about parting, but about 'love.'"

Idly playing a gentle tune on the strings, Cole narrowed her eyes slightly. After leaning the sleeping Matilda against herself and covering her with a coat to keep her from catching cold, Mrs. Cole continued:

"Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme... These are all names of plants said to possess magical effects in old myths... sweetness, strength, loyalty, courage... They can grant such qualities."

"Oh." Nana replied flatly.

Seeing Nana's reaction, Mrs. Cole looked slightly saddened. Then, holding Matilda and joining Kate, whose cheeks were puffed up, she moved closer to Nana.

"Though I do not know what amnesia feels like... all I can do is place my hopes in you... Rosemary... legend says it can eventually make those unable to face their memories become brave."

Looking at the utterly baffled black-haired little cat, Mrs. Cole smiled faintly.

"If it hurts, sing this song... I do not know whether the future or an accident will arrive first... but at least allow me to give you a few gentle memories."

And so...

Silence...

In the end, Nana did not refuse.

From the bottom of her heart... she wanted to learn this song.

"...What is this song called?"

Rosemary's Embrace: Action Preparations

Nana learned a new song. After that, Nana spent an entire day at the Bruce family home...

Using the times when the Bruce children went out one after another to keep track, after several hours of observation... once the man involved woke up, Nana confirmed that he had indeed escaped danger.

Then, under Mrs. Cole's warm farewell, Miss Killer returned home. The first thing she did after taking off her shoes was bring her beloved potted plant in from the balcony.

Although the factories in the old district had moved to the new development zone as the city expanded, dust and harmful feathered-beast problems still remained... While such issues in Columbia did not affect daily life nearly as severely as they did in Rim Billiton, Nana's plant had indeed been pecked at before because she had left it outside during a long mission.

After hearing about it, her agent had laughingly asked whether she wanted to grow poisonous plants instead, but Nana did not think that was necessary.

She liked her current evergreen very much... Back then, after Number Seventy-Seven passed the organization's training, her agent had given this plant to her as a gift.

It was a very good friend. It was always happy, never asked questions, and was a lot like the girl herself... it had no roots.

Taking out a dedicated blue towel and washbasin, though the towel had faded somewhat, it was very clean. She leisurely dampened it and wiped the leaves, cleaned the plant up, and let it continue happily sunbathing.

Afterward, she took the last of the fresh milk from the refrigerator and drank it in one go. Licking her lips, Nana finally felt as though she had returned to her usual routine... But because Nana's work schedule was irregular, there was no need for her to hire a courier to deliver fresh bottled milk.

Going downstairs every few days to restock was one of the few small rituals in Miss Killer's life... But as she was heading out today, Nana remembered her agent's instruction to maintain lethal force.

So the girl opened her wardrobe, passed over the four or five uniforms still wrapped in dry-cleaning bags from the suit shop, and turned her gaze toward the various bags stacked nearly half her height beneath the wardrobe.

Although a brief search of Nana's room would uncover a huge pile of contraband, it looked fairly normal if one merely looked around... An aluminum travel case bearing Siesta tourist check-in stickers, a glossy, high-end leather suitcase... Hard containers like those were stored against the wall. In the middle were soft black leather handbags, while the handle of a messenger bag with an Originium-dust-resistant coating peeked out from below... Having played the guitar again for the first time in a long while because she had learned that song from Mrs. Cole yesterday, Nana's gaze lingered for a moment on the instrument case deep in the wardrobe. Today's target was not any of those.

Opening the business-style items she commonly used as disguises, Nana dragged out a storage case from the very bottom.

When Nana arrived here five years ago and signed the rental agreement with Mrs. Jackson, she had been wearing the outfit stored inside this case... These were items from when she used to disguise herself as a student. Nana skipped over the light-blue school uniform with its red necktie, the Ursus kokoshnik headpiece, and the Higashi sailor uniform, then deliberately took out a matte black Backpack.

Compared to a business briefcase with relatively limited capacity, mainly used to store documents and small items like a Master Key, a Backpack allowed her equipment capacity to reach the "light loadout" level without wearing tactical gear.

And the Backpack Nana pulled out was not merely a container. It was an organization-modified Covert Combat Backpack.

The key feature was supposedly... through various counterintuitive mechanisms, it allowed its holder to retrieve needed tools without alerting bystanders and conceal small firearms without wearing tactical gear. In addition, the backpack shell was made from ballistic material, with a built-in bulletproof airbag that, once deployed, could protect the entire upper body.

Giving a killer something like this, Nana really did not know whether the organization had confused "killer" with "bodyguard"... Of course, that was Nana's own problem, since the organization had assigned quite a few VIP protection missions as well.

However, Number Seventy-Seven's usual way of protecting someone was to deal with whoever intended to kill them... Still, whether equipment was used was one matter, while having it was another... It was the same as Nana's arsenal.

Speaking of weapons, Nana had recently spent a long time reinforcing her cover identity and had not carried the sort of lethal weapons that would draw immediate suspicion... such as knives, swords, other edged weapons, or Nana's main weapons—Firearms Arts.

Nana's standard light-loadout primary weapons when using the Backpack were two handguns purchased through the ICA platform... They used .45-inch Etch Rounds, with mirror-chromed slides, green glow-in-the-dark iron sights, and red pine grips covered in soft rubber anti-slip sleeves.

For concealed carry and to fit Number Seventy-Seven's smaller-than-average adult hands, each held only seven rounds... Not many, but enough.

Under normal circumstances, Number Seventy-Seven did not need to fire continuously. With suppressors and the organization-issued special Originium Etch Rounds, tests showed that their firing noise did not exceed forty decibels, while their power matched that of standard ammunition of the same specification without added Originium Arts...

That meant that unless they were in an exceptionally quiet environment, the organization's members could use firearms with virtually no restraint... Perhaps that was one reason why her agent and her organization remained little more than an urban legend.

She placed the two firearms into the Backpack, stuffed four magazines into the "magic slots" on the lower section and sides, slipped several smoke grenades and remote bombs sometimes used to blow open Catastrophe shelter doors into the easy-access compartment pockets, and finally transferred the small items that had previously been in her briefcase... things she carried no matter what... into the Backpack.

A lockpick set... This was what Nana had used last time to open a car trunk. In Nana's hands, it was a Master Key.

A paracord bracelet. Since accessories were sometimes unsuitable for serious outfits, it spent most of its time gathering dust in her bag... Its core was braided from extremely sturdy D32 Alloy steel wire. It was suitable as either rope or a garrote, and could even directly withstand cuts from bladed weapons. Before she bought guns, this had been Number Seventy-Seven's primary murder weapon.

Dangling beneath the bracelet was a deadly poison disguised as a small bottle ornament... This was not mission equipment. It was something Number Seventy-Seven kept for herself, as required by the organization manual, to use for self-drowning if necessary... Though would it really ever be needed?

The last thing she put into the bag was a little yellow duck remote bomb. It was less powerful than the explosives used to blow through walls, but more than enough to kill its holder.

This was an interest of the Equipment Department... They had once made a batch of explosive weapons that did not look dangerous. Nana still had no idea what this thing was supposed to be used for. In any case, it could not be kept in the bathroom.

If she still had not used it by her next mission, Nana would consider punching a hole through it and using it as a bag charm... Maybe it could be used to destroy equipment when necessary.

Besides those, Nana had plenty of other strange items in her arsenal, but none of them were useful now, and she would not bring them along, so that could wait until later.

She gave the contents of the Backpack one final look, then picked it up. First, she tested how quickly she could draw and stow the firearms, then tested the function for quickly retrieving magazines from below... As for the airbag, Nana merely checked the pressure gauge on its gas cylinder and whether the gauge itself was functioning properly. She did not activate it.

Though its functions sounded impressive, the airbag shield was actually single-use... Nana felt it might be more suitable as a flotation device when crossing water than as bulletproof protection.

With a sigh, she fastened the Backpack and began the final steps before "work"... tying her tie and putting on socks.

A red tie, a red bow tie... "red" seemed to be how the organization judged an "employee's" rank. Although Nana had never seen anyone bold enough to wear red as the main color while "working," the organization really had issued her a suit-dress uniform with red as its base color... She had stuffed that thing into the bottom of her wardrobe. The color was far too conspicuous.

As for the thing that usually disguised itself as stockings, but became a stocking-material bodysuit when activated, it was an Originium item.

According to her agent, it was something that reduced the difficulty of "cleanup." Though as a garment it could not stop bullets, resist cutting, or withstand blunt force... it could negate feedback from all detection-type Originium Arts. That ability alone made it something Nana took with her every day.

Normally, of course, it could remain in stocking mode. That saved energy, for one thing, and prevented the awkward situation where someone with a sentry profession discovered a person "invisible" right in front of them...

The Equipment Department's description said that optimal performance could be achieved when skin coverage exceeded ninety percent. In any case, Nana definitely left only her head exposed when using it... She could hide even her head if necessary, but dressing that way into somewhere like a bank would certainly cause chaos.

With that, she put on the suit at last and casually stuffed the matching leather gloves into her pocket.

Looking into the full-length mirror by the door, she checked the faint dark circles beneath her eyes. The girl tugged unhappily at her shoulder-length black hair, which was the only part of her that was especially smooth, then sighed and headed out.

After all, she had stayed up late yesterday too. If she did not look energetic, so be it... It was not as though her cover identity was supposed to be energetic.

She listlessly greeted Mrs. Jackson, who was sweeping by the entrance as usual, then Nana once again headed for the hidden base where her agent was located.

"Oh, oh, I said a woman with that sort of personality would not just leave you alone. She finally noticed your awkward lifestyle... It was not in vain that I specifically arranged that room for you..."

"...But if this continues to affect my rest, my concentration during missions will be greatly reduced."

"Mm, that is indeed a problem... But this is normal social interaction, and the people next door are not going to ask you to help watch over a sick person every day, are they? Besides, since she has even mentioned taking you in as an adopted daughter, it would be unreasonable for me not to look after them a little... How about this? If they call, I will sell them affordable Oripathy suppressants in your name... Of course, those will come out of your own allotment."

Nana did not ask why she had an allotment of suppressants despite not having Oripathy... She did not care about such things.

Miss Killer quietly found her usual seat. Seeing that Number Seventy-Seven had no intention of continuing to discuss her everyday life, the agent reluctantly took out the day's information.

"All right, today's work... There is quite a bit of bad news for you today. First, Loken Watertank's investigation into why its stock price plummeted has been highly effective. We do not know which third party helped them, but the black market truly is the best place to gather information. They really did discover that one of their executive directors had contracted Oripathy.

"The poor former Ursus viscount was kicked out just like that. We still do not know how Loken Williams intends to make this Ursus man keep quiet, nor how he intends to deal with Ursus Nobility afterward... But we can be certain that someone has become desperate...

"Loken Watertank's Human Resources Department has once again increased investment in recruiting experimental volunteers. In addition, Loken himself spoke with a public health official late last night. He still seems to have hopes for a 'perfect recipient' and wants to use national departments to find the theoretically optimal model for his experiment...

"Normally, no one would touch something like this. It is like dog shit—once it gets on you, even after shaking it off, your hand still stinks... But the problem is that some people do not want to be human. They insist on being dogs."

With the sharp click of flint grinding against a lighter wheel, the agent, still dressed in professional attire with only her lace neck scarf an eye-catching white, held a cigarette and concealed her expression behind smoke.

"A case containing sixty-four pieces of Originium Prime was moved out of Loken Water Tank Laboratory, supposedly for purchasing experimental supplies in Lungmen. But after CASA—the Columbian Tobacco and Alcohol Arts Unit and Originium Products Administration—cleared it, those juniors of yours who were specifically watching them got played by the other side. A huge sum simply vanished into thin air... And Loken Watertank's perfunctory follow-up investigation has been so passive that they do not even want to put on a show.

"The organization cannot conveniently investigate the finances of national departments. We do not know whether that Originium was used as an 'election fund'—open bribery, merely called election funding when federal officials like legislators receive outside money... But Loken Watertank's sponsors must be furious now. Research funding has been diverted elsewhere... Even if it was spent on 'finding the final recipient,' not everyone will accept that.

"And so... the sponsors have become furious, and Loken himself will surely become especially furious as well..."

"...Looks like those furious people need a warning?"

For this indifferent killer, who only listened for the important parts and clearly seemed eager to clock out, the agent smiled helplessly and snapped her fingers. A folder landed on the desk before Nana.

"Fury itself does not matter, but it is a problem when fury lures everyone around it into madness... A whole case of Originium Prime is insignificant from the perspective of corporations and the state, but to ordinary people, it is enough to make them lose their minds.

"And Loken Watertank's transport personnel clearly have even less professionalism than ICA. Now the entire underworld knows that this city contains a case of goods that could let a group of people live without worries for the rest of their lives if sold."

"...Just tell me where to go, who to kill, and how many."

Seeing Nana nodding off, apparently truly in no mood to hear a story, the agent waved a hand. The file before the killer girl automatically turned pages.

"Okay~ okay~ Before mercenaries from all over the country catch the scent and come turn our territory upside down, solve this problem.

"The target is the 'broker' who has set his sights on that shipment and thrown the entire underground labor market into chaos. Go give that broker a stern warning, Seventy-Seven... Remove his trusted aides, make him clean up his mess, then get him out of Columbia."

As soon as she finished speaking, the seat where the black-haired girl had been dozing was already empty.

The agent tapped the desk with her fingers as she thought, but ultimately did not tell her most capable subordinate about the intelligence she had already received.

She was not sure whether it counted as work-related information that Seventy-Seven needed to know.

Unlike the locals, whose administrative methods were outdated and who still often used handwritten notes, Columbia's administrative system, based in mobile city-states, operated with advanced AI-equipped hardware. Its efficiency in finding and sending information far exceeded the locals' sluggish rhythm of paper documents...

According to the intelligence received by the agent, Duncan had obtained Andy Bruce's name through national medical examination records.

Very soon, a plot against the Bruce family would probably begin... But... no one in the organization's upper ranks believed that the destruction of one family was an important matter.

From the agent's own perspective, those above seemed to believe that one Infected person would be enough to make a twisted operation like Loken Watertank stop by killing a chicken to scare the monkeys. For Columbia itself, that would definitely be a profitable deal.

Was that really true...? Thinking of how Number Seventy-Seven had actually accommodated her neighbors and stayed awake for hours watching over a complete stranger, the agent felt that Number Seventy-Seven might truly have considered adding the Bruce surname to her own.

And those lofty Columbian bigwigs had long grown accustomed to the grand spectacle of war. Accustomed to calculating populations as numbers, they might never have experienced the silent terror unique to a killer in the city.

To prevent Number Seventy-Seven from someday following the deaths of that neighboring family all the way to her bedside while she slept, the agent felt that she had to do something.

The simplest solution would be to send Number Seventy-Seven to sabotage the research on Originium-transformed organs. Though merely looking at it made the stench of blood seem to rush at her, being able to gain Originium Arts without contracting Oripathy was practically a dream come true. The research had considerable promise...

The military was highly expectant of the project. The state could not possibly stop scientific research because of one killer, and as an agent, she had no standing to forcibly stop Loken.

"...I need to think of something quickly while Nana is dealing with those people who are joining in for the excitement... Think carefully..."

Rosemary's Embrace: Omen

When she left the warehouse, the sun was blazing. The black-haired Feline with the Backpack rarely hailed a taxi, an extravagance by the standards of the girl's usual behavior.

As the car traveled through the streets, she watched the surroundings gradually shift from the broad eight-lane avenues of the new district back into the four-lane roads of the old district. The little cat got out by the roadside and first bought a slice of pizza from a nearby pizza shop.

Yes, it was almost noon, and she had not even eaten.

With two extra Columbian Dollar coins, her request for the Siracusan owner to add an extra serving of cheese was predictably approved.