Red Evil Spirit

132

During his first moment of lucidity, the Red Evil Spirit lit the first match.

He saw time turn back, the world returning to the Era of Glory. His Lord stood in the light, alive and whole, beckoning to him. Come, my blade, he said. Follow me and lay waste to the kingdoms of dragons and giants. Let the light reach even the Dragon of Imagination's lofty Sky City. Let the humans there be saved, and let the arrogant ancient gods be bound and restrained.

They silently watched the insignificant flame. A gust of wind blew from somewhere, and the match went out. The Lord's figure vanished with the light, and the shadows of distant enemies turned into wisps of smoke, rising, rising, dispersing.

During his second moment of lucidity, the Red Evil Spirit lit the second match. This time, he had learned his lesson and cupped a hand around the flame to shield it from the wind, letting it burn longer.

This time, what appeared in the firelight was that solemn, imposing black empire. The Black Emperor was the King of the Earth appointed by the Lord himself, the King of Kings.

The Lord had been gravely wounded and left incomplete, and his mental state was poor as well. Those days had been difficult, but the Lord and Ouroboros were both at his side, so there was still something to put his mind at ease. The Black Emperor sat high upon his throne, looking down upon all living beings. He and the Lord respected and acknowledged each other, forming a True Alliance. They shared a throne with two sides to its single whole, opposing the evil Six Gods in distant lands. Though the Red Angel insisted that no one could compare to his Lord, he had obediently placed himself nominally under Solomon's command for the time being. The Red of War swept across the earth, and harsh iron laws laid down the shackles of survival. Though they had fallen on harder times, life was still lighthearted, and hope seemed close at hand.

There were others in that firelight, too-the figures of two Conquerors.

Though Medici treated them with disdain, he could not deny that they were the prey and opponents he valued most.

Kindling a flame was child's play for the Three-in-One Hunter, but dead fire steeped in resentment could never compare to this vibrant light. Yet things in this world rarely went as one wished. The wind was gone, but at some point, a drop of rainwater had seeped into the dark basement and landed squarely on the flame. The flame erupted in a great shower of sparks, then went out in an instant.

Those sparks were blood-red, as red as the lingering sunset on the day the black empire fell, as red as the molten lava spewed from the earth after it trembled. The evil gods had passed judgment, the throne had collapsed, and the Lord had roared in mourning for his ally. Scarlet tears had flowed from the ears and eyes of the Secrets Suppliants. As red as the blood that had run into his eyes on the day he fell. As red as the crown upon Alista Tudor's head and the mad fire in his eyes when he was crowned here, on the day the Red Evil Spirit was born.

The Red Evil Spirit smacked his lips and reached for the last match on the Tudor Descendant's corpse. This time, he would shield it from both the wind and the rainwater above. But when he picked up that final match, he discovered that the seeping blood had long since soaked it. There would be no more light here.

Decades of silence and deathly stillness followed once more.

Sauron spoke. "...That Little Seer who came here before was rather sharp. He ran pretty fast. Otherwise, we'd have a little more entertainment now."

Medici gave a couple of snorts. "Running that fast, and a Seer, too. Could he be a descendant of Antigonus? It's only because this damned place has nothing to offer. If even the Red Priest's Card of Blasphemy couldn't tempt him, then I suppose only the Fool Card could lure him in."

"Exactly. That brat seems to have blown this place shut, too. Our poor Lord Red Angel will have to remain a prisoner for who knows how much longer."

"Oh, not at all. Aside from being bored, I'm perfectly happy here. Someone even keeps sticking his face in front of me for me to insult. I wouldn't get tired of that in another few decades."

"The God of War can't do anything but run his mouth these days."

"Naturally. That's because useless trash like you is dragging me down."

The two Hunters chatted intermittently to pass the time, mixing jabs at each other's sorry circumstances with their customary abuse of the gods. After a while, a mouth split open on Medici's right cheek. Einhorn did not join the Hunter exchange that took place as punctually as a daily roll call, but after he appeared, Medici and Sauron gradually fell silent. The pair of eyes shared by three souls turned toward the room's only door.

Someone was coming.

133

Before the Roselle Memorial Exhibition ended, Edward happened to spot Klein at the exit as he left after finishing his visit. For now, he still needed to maintain a reasonably friendly relationship with him. Though Klein seemed somewhat distant and awkward, that did not matter. All Edward needed to do was finish what needed doing.

By his reckoning, he only needed to give a sincere explanation of the grievances between Bernadette and himself, then offer Klein a proper apology. Those things alone might not be effective enough, though, so-Devils could generally discern the kinds of desires others harbored and use them to devise plans for temptation and corruption. Klein... seemed... rather short of money, and apparently faced a large expense in the near future. Being a private detective was not especially profitable. Judging by his recent activities, he belonged to the relatively fortunate sort; at least he had not fallen so low that he needed to take commissions worth less than a pound to get by. But for humans, the more money they had, the better-

"Bernadette never trusted me much to begin with, and she disliked me even more after Roselle's death. Failing to account for her hostility toward me in time and exposing you to a High Sequence influence was an oversight on my part. I'm very glad you're all right."

With that, Edward took a wallet from his coat's inner pocket and drew out two creased slips of paper. "This is my apology."

He referred to Bernadette as "she," which means she's only a High Sequence Beyonder, Sequence 3 or 4, not an Angel yet... That makes sense. Angels can't be that common. Klein hesitated briefly. Bernadette's glance had not done him much harm, and his divination above the gray fog had also indicated that their paths would not cross again, so he felt inclined to decline. "You really don't need to go to such trouble..." He glanced at the slips, and his words suddenly caught. Only his Clown powers kept him from gaping on the spot.

Each slip bore a Numbered Account-something Klein was very familiar with-with the withdrawal password and the balance written beneath it. The first held five hundred pounds, and the second also held five hundred pounds. Those two slips of paper were worth more than everything Klein currently owned!

He-he had only just asked Miss Justice to help him check whether there was anything unusual about the Bookmark in the manuscript, offering a reward starting at five hundred pounds with no upper limit...

"I remember that you have circumstances of your own that you can't disclose, and a private detective's income is very unstable. I have little need for money anymore. Besides, we both come from that world. Helping a fellow countryman is only natural."

Their origins, their homeland. Fellow countrymen helping each other. It was perfectly reasonable. Faced with such sincere words and an offer of recompense, Klein found it difficult to refuse.

Appeal to his feelings, persuade him with reason.

"So, Klein, I hope you'll accept my apology and stop holding today's oversight against me."

Confirm the parties to the transaction, emphasize its terms.

The apology was not limited to the gold pounds in his hand, so receiving anything from him would count as establishing the transaction.

"Stop holding today's oversight against me" could be interpreted as an increase in goodwill, or further distorted into a condition more in keeping with his intentions.

"The souls under my control never complain about my oversights."

"...Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Edward... But I can't accept a reward I haven't earned. Your offer is far too generous, and I wasn't seriously harmed." After a few seconds of silence, Klein regained control of himself and did not reach for the two slips bearing the Numbered Accounts. Yet accepting the apology in his heart already counted as fulfilling part of the "transaction." He gradually lowered his guard, casting aside the decision he had made a few hours earlier to keep his distance from Edward Vaughan. Goodwill and a sense of affinity quietly welled up within him, and a slight smile appeared on his face.

"I won't take the money. Although there isn't much I can do to help you, you're right. We come from the same place, and we should help each other."

Edward smiled unconcernedly and put the two slips away. He returned the wallet to his inner pocket, but just as Klein thought he had given up, he took out... a string of zongzi??

"Today is October 16. I still remember your country's festivals. Tomorrow is the Double Ninth Festival." Meeting Klein's astonished gaze, Edward Vaughan spoke with a smile, already prepared. "Though I don't think you're supposed to eat zongzi for the Double Ninth Festival. You're supposed to climb to high places and admire flowers, right?... And the Dragon Boat Festival and Mid-Autumn Festival have already passed. It's a shame I hadn't met you then. I didn't know much about your culture originally, but Roselle always remembered it, so I remembered it, too. I thought you might come to Roselle's exhibition today, so I prepared these in advance. If you hadn't come, I would have visited you."

"But I don't know what flavors you like... I made them according to the recipes Roselle gave me. There are sweet ones and savory ones, plain ones, red bean ones, meat ones, and some other flavors. There should be something you like, right?"

"..." If Klein could still refuse money, then this was a gift he could not possibly resist. Only after the string of carefully made zongzi was placed in his hands did he belatedly feel his eyes grow hot, a faint sadness spreading through him as though something had clogged his heart.

"...Thank you very much, Mr. Edward."

He used his Clown powers to control his expression, his tears, and the tightness in his throat, accepting what others would see as bizarre food as naturally and warmly as possible. The zongzi were still warm. Klein took off his scarf and carefully wrapped them in it, holding them against his chest. Once again, he thanked Edward earnestly. "Thank you. I'll be going, then."

"I hope they bring back a little of the taste of home."

Edward said goodbye to him, then added wistfully, "I'm going to a banquet shortly. A gentleman who has settled in Backlund invited me and some others to visit his new home. Roselle taught me many other things, too. Since you're from his homeland, I'll let you try them when we have the chance."

134

"How interesting."

On the way to the residence of Mr. Miller Carter, the host of that evening's banquet, Edward spoke to himself in the carriage window. "I actually failed to buy his soul."

"Someone else has already reserved his soul," his reflection in the glass replied, its expression and tone utterly calm. "I felt that resistance, too. Even if a King of Angel had reserved his soul, it couldn't have been entirely beyond your ability to shake that hold. It seems a true god has him in their grasp."

"Who could it be?"

"The Evernight Goddess?" the reflection murmured to himself. "He's always had a connection to the Evernight Goddess. Faint and elusive, but definitely there. Interesting. He presents himself under a false identity and claims to be a believer in the God of Steam and Machinery, yet the Evernight Goddess has her gaze upon him. That reminds me of a certain unusual human."

"Megose."

"...You actually remember her name." Edward sounded impressed. "All I remember is what she looked like at the end, when only her skeleton remained."

"Though I didn't buy his soul, I did successfully buy his goodwill and trust. If we can confirm who holds his soul, we'll have accomplished at least the greater part of our goal of investigating the intentions of the one behind him."

"It doesn't matter if we can't buy it. I have a feeling that keeping him around will let us discover more." The reflection seemed disinclined to say anything further. As they passed a bright Gas Streetlamp, he vanished from the glass.

His reflection returned to normal. Edward Vaughan straightened up and tilted his head slightly, using the glass to tidy his appearance. At his feet lay the Backlund specialties he planned to give Mr. Miller Carter that evening-not expensive, but thoughtful enough. The carriage sped along the street with a steady rhythm punctuated by bumps. The sky gradually darkened, and the brightly lit residence drew near.

TBC

*A Devil's transaction.

He never lied, yet not a single word could be trusted.

The goodwill induced by a Devil's spirituality during a first meeting could still be washed away above the gray fog. But accepting a transaction meant willingly accepting that influence, making it impossible to notice even above the gray fog.

Edward and Richard also formed a contrast: the Angel was travel-worn, inconspicuous, and poor, while the Devil was friendly, kind, wealthy, and handsome.

Because only Devils needed to tempt others.

*132-the little match-selling Red Angel, the product of a burst of inspiration. Taken as a whole, it was also one of the parts I was most satisfied with and liked best.