《No Heaven for Vampires》


 Volume 1 - Prologue

    ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    Those were the only two things Seymour Road always asked his clients. In other words, as courier he never asked about the ¡ºwhat¡». Be it people or items, regardless of the cargo, he would transport it ©¤ assuming, of course, that it¡¯d actually fit into his car. No matter whether it was a person with a hidden identity, that would be discernible from the scar on their shin, or an item that would make anyone feel guilty if they understood its true nature, he never allowed himself to pry, or even try to get a glimpse of the cargo¡¯s background.


    And that was the very reason why he continued as Seymour Road, an individual working as something like a courier, and why he received work. The effect of that was far bigger than the shallow, refreshing, smile he never failed to show to his clients.


    For example, his job on a certain day went down like this¡­


    ¡°Hey, transport this package right away.¡±


    The one who said that to Seymour, as he thrust his head halfway into the car through the window, was a man obviously related to the mafia. His finely tailored suit, and the faint cologne drifting around him, failed to conceal the man¡¯s shady atmosphere. Having said that, the unlawfulness stinking from his body like gasoline was the same one that was filling the whole city nowadays.


    What he was handed over was a case with an impressive size that seemed difficult to hold onto with two hands, although it couldn¡¯t be carried with one either. It was somewhat heavier than what would be suggested from its measurements.


    How far? How fast? That was all he was told as the case was heaved on the passenger¡¯s seat, and Seymour just nodded amiably.


    ¡°Very well, I accept. I¡¯ll make sure to deliver it without fail.¡±


    The job itself was simple. The destination wasn¡¯t too erratic, and the deadline wasn¡¯t overly harsh either. Seymour arrived at the delivery place at exactly the appointed time, obviously having timed it that way, and handed the case over to the old man who came out of the house. The man bowed politely, and carried the case into the house.


    It was only several seconds later that the explosion occurred.


    The building, which the old man had entered moments ago, was devoured by flames from within. Seymour was thrown to the ground by the following shockwave. The old man¡¯s fate was more obvious than what would happen to an egg falling off a multi-storied building.


    Blowing away traders and stores that didn¡¯t pay their protection money with a planted bomb was an old trick, used by the lower stratas of the mafia. In this day and age, the city was infested by countless, intangible familia. Companies not belonging to any familia lived in fear that their company office building might be gone without a trace by the next morning.


    In short, such a story amounted to only that much.


    The items transported by Seymour weren¡¯t limited to bombs. In the first place, there was little meaning in having him carry a bomb to an individual trader like that old man. If the delivery had been delayed ©¤©¤ Seymour wouldn¡¯t forgive himself for doing something so rude, but whether that was properly appreciated by other people was a horse of a different color ©¤©¤ the target building wouldn¡¯t have been blown away. Besides, because the mafia had a heap of ways to escape investigation by the police, it would be faster and more reliable to just blow the place up themselves.


    Considering the circumstances, it was unlikely that Seymour had been tasked with delivering a bomb. That¡¯s why, in reality, it was just a case of the building he made his delivery to happening to be blown up by a bomb right as he made the drop.


    Such things happened to anyone working as a courier in this city, and Seymour was no exception to that. And those kinds of circumstances were normal for anyone living in this city, and Seymour was no exception to that either. For him, it was such a regular occurrence that he¡¯d forget that they even happened.


    Yet, on another day, his job went down like this¡­


    ¡°I¡¯d like to go somewhere.¡± A woman in the back seat suddenly muttered, around ten minutes after the car had started to move.


    Seymour couldn¡¯t recall the particulars of the woman¡¯s face, but what he could remember were her legs, which she had stretched out using the full width of the seat. Her high-heeled boots, which she had partially taken off, dangled on her toes, and seeing her blackened, cracked nails, Seymour felt that those were the nails of a prostitute.


    ¡°Say, boy. Can I change the destination?¡±


    Seymour frowned at her way of addressing him. Normally he might have made up some lie while being stubborn about it, but since he was in the middle of work right now, he gave her an honest reply. In exchange, he kept his voice somewhat lower than usual, though.


    ¡°Yes, if that¡¯s your wish, customer.¡±


    ¡°Can you take me away to the end of the world then?¡±


    He smiled wryly, and revved up the car¡¯s engine for just an instant as if to pass on that laugh.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, but I only take on deliveries to places recorded on the map of the city.¡±


    Their conversation came to a halt with Seymour¡¯s response. The female client kept her mouth closed until the car stopped.


    ¡°Gimme the map then. If I find the end of the world on it, I¡¯ll request your services again.¡±


    While putting a hand on the door, the woman removed the map placed in the car by Seymour with smooth movements. Just like the transportation fees he usually took, the map wasn¡¯t a cheap article either, but the woman had blown him a particularly elegant kiss as she got out of the car, so Seymour decided to forgive her.


    Prostitutes would normally travel by foot, or in the brothel¡¯s car. Even if they were to rent a means of transportation, it was unthinkable that they¡¯d request a questionable contractor like Seymour. When the woman had crammed herself into Seymour¡¯s car, a man, who seemed to be some kind of clerk, looked quite flustered. So it was possible this woman had some special reason for entering his car.


    Seymour never saw that woman again. She might have been unable to find the end of the world, or she might have actually found it on the map she borrowed from Seymour, and walked there by foot. Sometimes he would comfort himself by imaging that was what happened.


    Yet, on another day, another job went down like this¡­


    ¡°Please take this with you.¡±


    What had been stuffed into his back seat alongside that request was the corpse of a man. Seymour simply asked his usual two questions of where to and until when, just like he always did, and started his car. No, only at times like these, Seymour would add one more condition to his job with a short comment. That is to say, he told the customer to make sure that the seat wouldn¡¯t get dirty, seeing as a knife was still embedded in the man¡¯s chest.


    Just like he made no distinction between people and objects when trafficking, the discrepancy between the person being alive or dead didn¡¯t play much of a role in his work. As the absolute silence dominating the car, despite someone boarding it, was rather tough on him, Seymour casually chatted up the man in his back seat.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your deal?¡±


    The man¡¯s head swayed slowly in tact with the car¡¯s movements.


    ¡°Because I exist, you¡¯ll be transported somewhere. But, even if I didn¡¯t exist, you¡¯d probably be transported somewhere anyway, using a different kind of method. In other words, me doing this doesn¡¯t amount to anything more than just a means. Rather than a person, I¡¯m just a medium to move you.¡±


    As if to prove that, Seymour¡¯s limbs steered the car fluently even as he was talking.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure someone righteous would hand you over to the police. However, the act of transporting you in itself isn¡¯t a crime for me or anyone else. It¡¯s not righteous, but it¡¯s not a crime either. I wonder, just how bad does a crime need to be to not feel righteous anymore?¡±


    Of course he didn¡¯t receive an answer. Seymour didn¡¯t know why that man, who stank faintly, and seemed to be homeless, had been killed and transported, nor did he even try to gather information that would allow him to form a guess.


    Basically, such was the being called Seymour Road.


    Just like the air served as a medium for voices, and how power cables were mediums to transmit electricity, Seymour acted as one of the city¡¯s mediums. He just slightly quickened the movement of people and objects, which could also be achieved without him, using his car. His smoothness as a medium, and the time gained in comparison to using normal means, produced his remuneration as a courier.


    With a naturalness, as if he had been doing things this way since the moment he was born, the courier called Seymour Road had adapted himself to life in the city.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    Because of that, Seymour Road was in the diner with the name ¡ºHoliday¡» on that day, too. The Holiday had a long, narrow, and cramped structure, as seemed to be typical for most diners. A counter that extended almost across the whole store, and several stools lined up along that counter. So far as it goes, four round tables that were independent of the counter had been set up as well, but even those tables were so small that three adults sitting at them would bump their knees against each other, and on top, one of them was always occupied by the diner¡¯s owner, an old woman called Madela.


    Just these things were enough to make the diner so cramped that you wouldn¡¯t be able to walk through it without getting a bruise somewhere, and yet, an upright piano had been installed along the diner¡¯s wall, and since shady, exotic, decorations, which Madela had bought somewhere, and a mop and bucket, which didn¡¯t fit into the kitchen anymore, had been added to it as well, it was a wonder that the Holiday didn¡¯t burst apart at the seams.


    Seymour¡¯s special seat was the one just before the deepest counter seat in the Holiday. It was a place where you would constantly hit your back, and the evening sun would shine directly into your eyes during this season. While swinging his legs on the stool, which was too high, he took out a cigarette, and put it between his fingers.


    Cigarette still unlit, Seymour asked, ¡°Were there any calls for me while I wasn¡¯t here?¡±


    Occasionally the Holiday rented its telephone number out to others. For example, to folks who didn¡¯t own a phone at home, despite requiring a phone for their job, like Seymour.


    ¡°Now listen, I¡¯m no telephone switchboard, okay?¡± The sole employee of this diner said, while allowing her lust for profit to ooze out from her expression.


    Seymour shook his head, sparked a match, and lit the tip of his cigarette.


    ¡°Coffee. As hot as possible.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s your order, you could have just said to give you the usual, right?¡±


    ¡°Coffee. As hot as possible.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit, how about drinking some booze every now and then?¡±


    ¡°I hate crimes.¡±


    In response to Seymour¡¯s words, the employee laughed with a deep, throaty, timbre. She knew very well what kind of work he did, and for what kind of people.


    A prohibition that had turned into a mere shell. Crime lacking any penalty. Since such things existed, the people of this city acquired a humor that might have sounded cynical to anyone else.


    ¡°Ah, and about that, there was no call for you, Seymour. Congrats. The world is peaceful today as well.¡±


    While saying that, the employee handed him the coffee that she had already brewed. It seemed as though quite a bit of time had passed since she made it. Going by the aroma, it was sour by now. Moreover, powder was floating on its surface.


    Just like he always did, Seymour politely placed down the cup in front of him, pretending to not see it. Bending back on the stool despite its lack of a backrest, he called out to the owner, who was absorbed in her magazine, from across the whole diner.


    ¡°Madela! How¡¯s business going today?¡±


    The old woman, with her hunched back, gave an answer that was word for word the same as always.


    ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°I see! Thank you!¡±


    Seymour fixed his posture again, and traced the edge of his cup with a finger. Its porcelain, which was slightly chipped, was hot enough that it looked like he¡¯d scald his finger. The gesture looked like he was tasting the coffee with his finger instead of his tongue.


    The employee placed both hands on the counter, and bent herself slightly forward in his direction.


    ¡°But, Seymour, how about getting your own telephone sometime soon? You¡¯re earning enough for at least that much, aren¡¯t you? I think that would further your job as well.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Then I wouldn¡¯t need to sip this muddy water which you insist on calling coffee either.¡±


    ¡°How cruel. You know, that¡¯s a work of art.¡±


    ¡°However, I have no intention of owning a telephone. At least not for the next while.¡±


    ¡°Why not? It¡¯d make sense if it was because of some religious belief or something, but it¡¯s not, is it?¡±


    ¡°Mmh¡­¡­.¡±


    At the moment he was earning enough money to keep on living. And, since his job was what it was, Seymour didn¡¯t believe that he¡¯d be able to live for long. No, more accurately, he didn¡¯t have any reason to think about his future at all, so he didn¡¯t really think about living or dying beyond this point in the first place.


    If he installed a telephone at home, it might make his work smoother. He might be able to earn more money. However, just how important would that be?


    Since it was plain as day that the employee in front of him would answer ¡ºIt¡¯s more important than anything. More than anything else in this world¡» if he were to ask her, Seymour simply shrugged his shoulders.


    ¡°This world, you see, doesn¡¯t revolve around money alone.¡±


    The employee laughed it off as a commonplace proverb you¡¯d find written on generic advertisements all over the place.


    ¡°Haha, what a cheap line!¡±


    Just then, the telephone rang. The employee winked at him in an exaggerated manner, and then headed deeper into the counter. Seymour, and the customers, who were likely there for the same reason as Seymour, turned their attention in that direction.


    While placing his chin on the palm of his right hand, he smoked the cigarette inserted between his fingers. Slowly, one, then two, and then three puffs.


    The employee looked back, and locked eyes with Seymour, who was sitting directly behind her.


    ¡°It¡¯s a new commission, Mr. Courier, Seymour Road.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 1.1

    The Great War and Prohibition. It¡¯s no exaggeration to say that those two things screwed up the world.


    Seymour thought while driving his car. It felt to him as though all trace of the tears and blood that had been spilled blended with the evening sun, despite the fact that not a single scar from the war remained on the townscape visible through the windshield.


    The biggest scar the Great War left behind was the collapse of traditional values. It was difficult to believe that anything was just when standing on a battlefield where ten thousand people had been pulverized in a single day.


    A righteous human would live righteously and die righteously. If you conducted yourself righteously, you¡¯d be rewarded righteously. The definition of righteousness was as precise and exact as the international kilogram prototype. Seymour was pretty sure that the people of the past believed the world to be like that to a greater or lesser extent. And in reality, there might have been such a world before Seymour became old enough to be aware of the things around him.


    But that world was smashed into smithereens by the countless bullets shot during the Great War. It was a matter of course for the postwar world to be defined by individualism. In the absence of a generally agreed upon set of moral values, it was only natural that people stopped pursuing the path of personal righteousness. Why bother trying to be a paragon of virtue when no one even agreed on what was virtuous anymore?


    It was clear just by looking out the window. People were drinking booze, and smoking cigarettes on the streets. The hair and skirts of the women kept getting shorter with each passing year. Vulgar advertisements that screamed for attention as if the world were ending were plastered on every scrap of paper. Illegal conventions were organized by young people, and attended by formerly young people trying to recapture their youth.


    The value system that should have existed had broken down, and immoral acts, which had once been restrained by those values, lost their stigma. Morality and immorality had become no more than different hats to be worn when the mood struck.


    Seymour widened his eyes as a drunkard with a hip flask in one hand jumped out onto the roadway. He dodged the man, by pulling hard on the steering wheel, crossing over into the opposing lane in the process.


    And then there was Prohibition.


    How did a law prohibiting the production and sale of alcohol make it through congress and become law? Seymour didn¡¯t understand, and he was pretty sure he didn¡¯t want to know.


    However, he fully understood the results. In short, plenty of alcohol continued to be sold at stores, street corners, and diners, just like before, even after the enactment of the law. In the end, the law ended up resulting in no more than a new source of income for the mafia, which had been in this country since the old days. The common people, who saw drinking as a part of everyday life, welcomed any new alcohol producer, even if the source was an illegal organization. Even police officers, who were the ones who were supposed to crack down on them, and members of congress, who were the ones that passed the law, were included among the people who wholeheartedly rejoiced over the existence of bootleggers.


    Throughout history, there had never been a time where organizations like the mafia were approved of so openly. And there would probably never be a time like this again.


    The Great War, and Prohibition. Those two things broke the world. And when Seymour became conscious of his surroundings, he found himself in that broken era.


    That was all there was to it.


    ¡°Back then everything was better,¡± some people said. ¡°We are in the middle of a golden era,¡± other people said. Seymour didn¡¯t know which of them was right, and he was pretty sure he didn¡¯t want to know.


    However, once he considered that there weren¡¯t as many cars around in the past as now, Seymour didn¡¯t harbor an overly strong desire to return to the past.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Here, eh?¡±


    The designated meeting place was located in a relatively high-class residential area. It wasn¡¯t an area full of exclusively single family houses with big gardens, but neither was it a neighborhood with beggars at every street corner. You could describe it as ordinary, a term that told you almost nothing, except that it was wholesome, but that was a precious thing in this city.


    He brought the car¡¯s frame close to a berm, and stepped on the brake. Arbitrarily picking a curb, and being able to park his black Essex perfectly parallel to it, gave him a feeling of satisfaction.


    Once the car stopped moving, coldness suddenly permeated it. Without stopping the engine, he took his hands off the steering wheel, and stretched them backwards while making sure not to hit the car¡¯s roof. The sun had already sunken, and the crescent moon, looking like a curved claw, floated in the sky. Gunshots could be faintly heard in the distance. It seemed that the disputes between fellow mafia clans were as intense as usual.


    His eyes wandered to the rearview mirror. In the past he had been proud of being tall, but after he had started to ride in cars, the times where he found it annoying instead increased rapidly. He put his forelocks in order, and fixed a faint smile on his lips. One that was more businesslike than what he¡¯d use to call out to a girl walking through the city. This perfunctory smile was primarily to avoid upsetting the other party, as opposed to an attempt to win them over.


    He moved a hand towards his chest. While he debated whether he should slide his fingers into the breast pocket, he turned his eyes to his surroundings. It was right when his index finger touched his cigarette pack that he spotted a pair that seemed to be his clients. One man, one woman. The woman was faintly quickening her pace to keep up with the man.


    Seymour tapped the underside of the pack, and put the cigarette, which popped out, between his lips.


    The man had apparently combed back his bouncy, frizzy, light brown, hair against its will. He reminded Seymour of Tarzan forced into a suit, or a wolf with a collar around its neck. He had a disturbing aura, as if the cloth of his suit was acting to bind violence itself into the shape of a man. He was older than twenty, but hadn¡¯t passed thirty yet ¨C approximately the same age as Seymour.


    And then the woman. No, girl?


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Seeing the appearance of the girl, Seymour¡¯s cigarette jerked in his mouth.


    What stood out most about her was the silver hair extending all the way to her hips, and, her golden eyes, that shone so strongly that they were visible even within the darkness.


    Silver hair is pretty unusual, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bleach or anything.


    It was her face that made him think that. Putting it bluntly, the girl was beautiful. Her hair, which was even crisper than the snow piling up on the street, and her eyes, which seemed to emit a light from within, were eye-catching without being over the top. However, because of the simple beauty of their mere existence, he couldn¡¯t imagine that she would need to doll herself up.


    If he were forced to nitpick, he didn¡¯t particularly care for the way the outer corners of her eyes slanted upwards. However, if that was the only thing standing in the way of a relationship with her, Seymour would almost certainly become a fan of slanted eyes on the spot.


    ¡°You¡¯re Seymour Road?¡±


    It was the man who posed that question. He had a voice that resembled a growl, fitting his outward appearance.


    Seymour pinched out his unsmoked cigarette, and dropped it outside the car. He turned his eyes towards the wolf-like man, but his focus remained on the girl at the edge of his sight.


    Judging from her appearance, the girl was probably in the latter half of her teens. He couldn¡¯t be too sure, as her face was too pretty, but something about her facial expression, which lacked any toughness, and her slender limbs, which missed any fleshiness, gave him the impression that she was at an age that could hardly be called adult.


    He attempted to guess the nature of the relation between the man and the girl, but gave up on it. When he opened his mouth, his standard questions came out.


    ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    ¡°This one, to this address. Within 40 minutes.¡±


    He lowered his eyes at the bills serving as payment, and the memo, which were both passed to him. Fortunately, he could immediately place the address on the map inside his head.


    Pheew, that¡¯s great. Nothing makes a man look more uncool than rubbing his nose against a map. If I drive normally, it¡¯ll take around 30 minutes, huh? On the way, we¡¯ll have to cross the bridge spanning over the administrative district, but that¡¯s the most I need to pay attention to. The pay is good as well. It¡¯s not excessively low ©¤ such requests generally end up being troublesome ©¤ nor is it excessively high ©¤ those requests generally end up being troublesome as well.


    The girl opened the back door and got into the car. Even though the backseat looked far too big for the girl¡¯s slender body, she politely sat down in a manner that took up as little room as possible, pressing her knees.


    The man started to shut the car door, but stopped just before it closed. He peeked into the car cautiously, scrutinizing it with his eyes.


    ¡°Oi, be very careful while transporting her.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one kind of careful in my line of work.¡±


    Seymour replied, with the underlying implication that he was always paying appropriate, accurate attention, but it apparently didn¡¯t get through to the man in the right way. Looking displeased, the man shut the door while snorting.


    ¡°We¡¯re off. If you want to hold onto something, please feel free, okay?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t expected a reply to his remark, but the girl spoke up. Her voice was slightly husky, like a soft carpet, and a bit lower than he had imagined.


    ¡°Would it be better for me to hold on?¡±


    It was the first time that he had been asked something like that.


    While stopping the corners of his mouth from curving upwards he replied, ¡°Yes. The departure of a car is dangerous. There was actually a study showing that half of all deadly accidents in cars happen due to a passenger suddenly bumping their head right when the car starts to move. Probably. Somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I understand. I will make sure to keep holding on¡­!¡±


    Her far too serious response, accompanied by a firm nod, made Seymour laugh deep inside his throat. He stepped onto the accelerator, albeit a tiny bit more carefully than usual. The girl¡¯s hands tightly grasped the seat and door until she was sufficiently convinced that the car had finished accelerating.


    As midnight was approaching, there wasn¡¯t much traffic. The city¡¯s residents, long ago spat out by the many-storied buildings that lined the streets of the city center, were mostly within their homes, in neighborhoods like this, by now. The congestion, which lasted from morning till night, had become part of the natural scenery of the city in the last few years, but no trace of it could be found now on the roads illuminated by the street lights.


    Seymour turned his gaze towards the rearview mirror. The girl wasn¡¯t gazing outside the window, nor did she harbor any interest or vigilance towards the courier, Seymour. Instead, she kept her eyes down throughout the journey. Her expression didn¡¯t look as if she was engaged in self reflection, rather, it seemed as if her inner self had curled up into a ball, locked up in a birdcage.


    Still, how to describe it? I feel like she¡¯s a girl who doesn¡¯t fit in anywhere. Her long hair, her long skirt, and even her dress, all properly buttoned up to her collar; none of it fits with this era. Being in the backseat of a Sedan-type Essex doesn¡¯t suit her at all. However, if someone were to ask me what car would suit her, nothing would come to mind either. Be it a Bugatti, a Lancia Lambda, or a Ford, I kinda can¡¯t feel that it¡¯d appropriate for her to be in any of them. Or, going even further, she¡¯s a girl who doesn¡¯t fit in with this city, be it the aftermath of the war, the individualism, the mafia, the utilitarian pleasures, Prohibition, or even the Jazz spreading in the city.


    Having thought up to this point, Seymour remonstrated himself. Not asking ¡ºwhat¡» was Seymour Road¡¯s main selling point. Of course, there was no need to come up with sentimental conjectures about the girl on the backseat either.


    Well, be that as it may¡­


    Feeling that her proper bearing and lowered eyes were oddly silly, Seymour turned the wheel slightly roughly as they turned a corner.


    ¡°Hyaa!¡±


    The girl¡¯s small yelp. Her swaying head. And her knees, which had been glued together, it was all thrown into disarray. She lifted her golden eyes. Being stared at through the rearview mirror, Seymour made an effort to gloss it over with a serious face. He was satisfied. He had appeased his childish, mischievous, heart.


    ¡°Excuse me. The road¡¯s surface was frozen.¡±


    That was a lie, but it was true that the road was dyed white at spots thanks to the snow that fell yesterday. However, the far more dreadful spots were the black areas of the road. Over there the snow had been flattened by many tires over the day, and was now in the process of freezing over again as night had fallen. Those patches were far more fiendish than any snow.


    Seymour got very startled when the girl still spoke up because it was something he had done secretively. However, the girl apparently hadn¡¯t noticed Seymour¡¯s childish lie.


    ¡°Umm, the window, is it okay for me to open it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Do you know how? Please be careful, okay? There¡¯s a study stating that half of the deadly accidents in cars actually come from unexpectedly getting stuck in the window when opening and closing it, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a joke, right?¡±


    The one before was a joke as well, Seymour politely added in his mind.


    Even though the girl¡¯s voice carried a laugh, her expression fell somewhat short as usual. The girl opened the window by clumsily turning the handle. The wind blowing into the moving car was biting. Seymour opened and clenched his right hand as his body quivered for a moment. In a flash, his body became so chilled that he could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers.


    This might interfere with my driving. Despite this thought, he had no intention of telling her to close the window.


    ¡°¡­¡­It feels great.¡±


    The girl calmly stared outside the widely-opened window. She faintly inclined her body so that several strands of her hair were caught by the wind, floating outside the car. Despite the numbing coldness, she didn¡¯t blink, let alone tremble. She looked as if she might suddenly get carried away by the wind as soon as he took his eyes off her.


    The car approached the big bridge spanning across the administrative district. Seymour powerfully stepped on the accelerator.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Ah.¡±


    The girl¡¯s hair was shoved around by the wind blowing into the car. Having her head thrown back a bit by the acceleration, the girl smiled faintly, as if rejoicing over his rudeness rather than minding it.


    The world outside the window was dark, with only the city¡¯s dazzling lights standing out. Because the car repeatedly passed lamps atop the bridge, that darkness stood out all the more. Within that darkness, which was far deeper and calmer than that of the ocean beneath them, only the girl¡¯s eyes appeared to shine like morning stars.


    Probably because of that. The girl abruptly muttered a few words. He had no clue why she muttered those words, but her voice was filled with her own sincerity, seemingly leaving her no choice but to voice them out.


    ¡°The night¡¯s darkness, that¡¯s something decided by people.¡±


    Hearing those words, Seymour lightly nodded his head. He didn¡¯t know the girl¡¯s name or her circumstances, but he didn¡¯t think he would forget this moment for the rest of his life.


    This girl, who didn¡¯t fit in with this city at all, seemed to only be at ease within such darkness. And the fact that it was him and his car who provided that environment made him awfully happy. Of course, that was no more than a selfish, strong, emotion soaked with sentimentality, though.


    While maintaining a considerably higher speed than usual, he even thought that it¡¯d be nice for this bridge to continue indefinitely. Seymour was gripped by the gentle impulse that now was a time where he could say even something like that.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Can I have you close the window?¡±


    However, what came out of his mouth next were those words.


    ¡°Eh? Ah, it must be cold, right? I¡¯m very sorry!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not particularly a problem, but, ah¡­¡±


    Once he ambiguously spoke up, the girl tilted her head to the side with a gesture devoid of ill will.


    ¡°It¡¯s Lumi. Lumi Spike.¡±


    ¡°Although it¡¯s not my place to say so after having heard it, it¡¯s better to not tell your name to the people in this city, Ms. Lumi. You never know where shady people might lurk around.¡±


    ¡°But, Mr. Driver, you¡¯re not a bad person, right?¡±


    The girl ©¤©¤ Lumi, hurriedly wound the window¡¯s handle as she spoke. After shrugging his shoulders at her words, Seymour glared through the rearview mirror, and let up on the car¡¯s accelerator.


    ¡°By the way, Ms. Lumi, we¡¯re being chased by several rugged cars. Do you happen to have an idea of who they are?¡±


    Several cars were reflected on the mirror¡¯s surface, which had become slightly cloudy due to the wind. Seymour thought they were just parking, but just now each of them turned on their headlights. The parting words of the beast-like man crossed his mind.


    ¡ºOi, be very careful while transporting her.¡»


    This city was divided into five administrative districts, many of them connected by bridges. In other words, the bridges of this city were perfect for ambushes.


    Lumi widened her eyes. With just that, her mimetic muscles were expressive enough to betray her unrest better than a hundred answers could have done. She quickly cast her eyes, which had been turned outside the window, down.


    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m terribly sorry.¡±


    ¡°These things happen. In short, it means those cars aren¡¯t just big fans of mine, huh?¡±


    ¡°U-Umm¡­please stop the car. I-I think it will be alright as long as they catch me.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you say?¡±


    Lumi raised her eyes, as if that was a matter of etiquette. Her eyes firmly looked into Seymour¡¯s eyes through the mirror.


    ¡°If I¡¯m caught, you will be safe. That¡¯s why¡­ I¡¯m asking you to stop the car.¡±


    Seymour answered while properly staring back at her, ¡°I see. I must decline.¡±


    ¡°Eeehh?¡±


    At that time Seymour had removed one hand from the wheel, and was in the process of rummaging through his pocket. With one eye on the pursuing cars, that had sped up, and were continuing to gain on them, he revealed a smile.


    ¡°All I wanted to know was whether you had any idea about what was going on. Anything beyond that is my problem, Ms. Lumi.¡±


    ¡°B-But, they are really dangerous! I¡¯m sure they are the mafia or something like that. The lives of others don¡¯t mean anything to them©¤©¤©¤©¤!¡±


    ¡°Mebbie,¡± said Seymour with a muffled voice.


    His voice was muffled due to the thin gloves he was holding in his mouth, having just taken them out of his pocket. He pulled on one glove all the way to the fingertips, while biting it with his mouth. Next, he held the wheel with just his right hand, and repeated the same procedure for his left hand. A few small bits of the gloves were already indented, and partly pierced, because of Seymour¡¯s canines. Those markings were evidence that he had done this many times before.


    ¡°But, I¡¯m a courier. Things like obstacles or interferences are irrelevant.¡±


    Five in total. Two in front, and three from behind. They¡¯ve been slowly tightening their encirclement with coordinated movements, like a swarm of orcas targeting a whale.


    He took one deep breath, and, immediately after, he drove his foot into the accelerator.


    ¡°I¡¯m simply going to deliver you©¤©¤©¤©¤okay!?¡±


    It was such a wild acceleration that it almost gave them whiplash. The girl screamed behind Seymour as he swiftly changed gears.


    The pursuers probably hadn¡¯t expected Seymour, who appeared ready to comply for an instant when he started to slow down, to do something like that at all. The teamwork of the five cars was praiseworthy, but they had been slightly careless.


    The Essex thrust its nose through the small gap in their coordination, created by their turmoil. It was a radical maneuver. He heard the sound of Lumi bumping her head against the door as the car flew past their pursuers, up to the bridge¡¯s end.


    ¡°Ah, please hold on tight, okay?¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re a bit late in telling me that!¡±


    Lumi shot back, with tears blurring her eyes, Seymour laughed loudly.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 1 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C

 Volume 1 - CH 1.2

    <¨C Previous Chapter | Table of Content | Early Access on Patreon


    The Great War and Prohibition. It¡¯s no exaggeration to say that those two things screwed up the world.


    Seymour thought while driving his car. It felt to him as though all trace of the tears and blood that had been spilled blended with the evening sun, despite the fact that not a single scar from the war remained on the townscape visible through the windshield.


    The biggest scar the Great War left behind was the collapse of traditional values. It was difficult to believe that anything was just when standing on a battlefield where ten thousand people had been pulverized in a single day.


    A righteous human would live righteously and die righteously. If you conducted yourself righteously, you¡¯d be rewarded righteously. The definition of righteousness was as precise and exact as the international kilogram prototype. Seymour was pretty sure that the people of the past believed the world to be like that to a greater or lesser extent. And in reality, there might have been such a world before Seymour became old enough to be aware of the things around him.


    But that world was smashed into smithereens by the countless bullets shot during the Great War. It was a matter of course for the postwar world to be defined by individualism. In the absence of a generally agreed upon set of moral values, it was only natural that people stopped pursuing the path of personal righteousness. Why bother trying to be a paragon of virtue when no one even agreed on what was virtuous anymore?


    It was clear just by looking out the window. People were drinking booze, and smoking cigarettes on the streets. The hair and skirts of the women kept getting shorter with each passing year. Vulgar advertisements that screamed for attention as if the world were ending were plastered on every scrap of paper. Illegal conventions were organized by young people, and attended by formerly young people trying to recapture their youth.


    The value system that should have existed had broken down, and immoral acts, which had once been restrained by those values, lost their stigma. Morality and immorality had become no more than different hats to be worn when the mood struck.


    Seymour widened his eyes as a drunkard with a hip flask in one hand jumped out onto the roadway. He dodged the man, by pulling hard on the steering wheel, crossing over into the opposing lane in the process.


    And then there was Prohibition.


    How did a law prohibiting the production and sale of alcohol make it through congress and become law? Seymour didn¡¯t understand, and he was pretty sure he didn¡¯t want to know.


    However, he fully understood the results. In short, plenty of alcohol continued to be sold at stores, street corners, and diners, just like before, even after the enactment of the law. In the end, the law ended up resulting in no more than a new source of income for the mafia, which had been in this country since the old days. The common people, who saw drinking as a part of everyday life, welcomed any new alcohol producer, even if the source was an illegal organization. Even police officers, who were the ones who were supposed to crack down on them, and members of congress, who were the ones that passed the law, were included among the people who wholeheartedly rejoiced over the existence of bootleggers.


    Throughout history, there had never been a time where organizations like the mafia were approved of so openly. And there would probably never be a time like this again.


    The Great War, and Prohibition. Those two things broke the world. And when Seymour became conscious of his surroundings, he found himself in that broken era.


    That was all there was to it.


    ¡°Back then everything was better,¡± some people said. ¡°We are in the middle of a golden era,¡± other people said. Seymour didn¡¯t know which of them was right, and he was pretty sure he didn¡¯t want to know.


    However, once he considered that there weren¡¯t as many cars around in the past as now, Seymour didn¡¯t harbor an overly strong desire to return to the past.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Here, eh?¡±


    The designated meeting place was located in a relatively high-class residential area. It wasn¡¯t an area full of exclusively single family houses with big gardens, but neither was it a neighborhood with beggars at every street corner. You could describe it as ordinary, a term that told you almost nothing, except that it was wholesome, but that was a precious thing in this city.


    He brought the car¡¯s frame close to a berm, and stepped on the brake. Arbitrarily picking a curb, and being able to park his black Essex perfectly parallel to it, gave him a feeling of satisfaction.


    Once the car stopped moving, coldness suddenly permeated it. Without stopping the engine, he took his hands off the steering wheel, and stretched them backwards while making sure not to hit the car¡¯s roof. The sun had already sunken, and the crescent moon, looking like a curved claw, floated in the sky. Gunshots could be faintly heard in the distance. It seemed that the disputes between fellow mafia clans were as intense as usual.


    His eyes wandered to the rearview mirror. In the past he had been proud of being tall, but after he had started to ride in cars, the times where he found it annoying instead increased rapidly. He put his forelocks in order, and fixed a faint smile on his lips. One that was more businesslike than what he¡¯d use to call out to a girl walking through the city. This perfunctory smile was primarily to avoid upsetting the other party, as opposed to an attempt to win them over.


    He moved a hand towards his chest. While he debated whether he should slide his fingers into the breast pocket, he turned his eyes to his surroundings. It was right when his index finger touched his cigarette pack that he spotted a pair that seemed to be his clients. One man, one woman. The woman was faintly quickening her pace to keep up with the man.


    Seymour tapped the underside of the pack, and put the cigarette, which popped out, between his lips.


    The man had apparently combed back his bouncy, frizzy, light brown, hair against its will. He reminded Seymour of Tarzan forced into a suit, or a wolf with a collar around its neck. He had a disturbing aura, as if the cloth of his suit was acting to bind violence itself into the shape of a man. He was older than twenty, but hadn¡¯t passed thirty yet ¨C approximately the same age as Seymour.


    And then the woman. No, girl?


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Seeing the appearance of the girl, Seymour¡¯s cigarette jerked in his mouth.


    What stood out most about her was the silver hair extending all the way to her hips, and, her golden eyes, that shone so strongly that they were visible even within the darkness.


    Silver hair is pretty unusual, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bleach or anything.


    It was her face that made him think that. Putting it bluntly, the girl was beautiful. Her hair, which was even crisper than the snow piling up on the street, and her eyes, which seemed to emit a light from within, were eye-catching without being over the top. However, because of the simple beauty of their mere existence, he couldn¡¯t imagine that she would need to doll herself up.


    If he were forced to nitpick, he didn¡¯t particularly care for the way the outer corners of her eyes slanted upwards. However, if that was the only thing standing in the way of a relationship with her, Seymour would almost certainly become a fan of slanted eyes on the spot.


    ¡°You¡¯re Seymour Road?¡±


    It was the man who posed that question. He had a voice that resembled a growl, fitting his outward appearance.


    Seymour pinched out his unsmoked cigarette, and dropped it outside the car. He turned his eyes towards the wolf-like man, but his focus remained on the girl at the edge of his sight.


    Judging from her appearance, the girl was probably in the latter half of her teens. He couldn¡¯t be too sure, as her face was too pretty, but something about her facial expression, which lacked any toughness, and her slender limbs, which missed any fleshiness, gave him the impression that she was at an age that could hardly be called adult.


    He attempted to guess the nature of the relation between the man and the girl, but gave up on it. When he opened his mouth, his standard questions came out.


    ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    ¡°This one, to this address. Within 40 minutes.¡±


    He lowered his eyes at the bills serving as payment, and the memo, which were both passed to him. Fortunately, he could immediately place the address on the map inside his head.


    Pheew, that¡¯s great. Nothing makes a man look more uncool than rubbing his nose against a map. If I drive normally, it¡¯ll take around 30 minutes, huh? On the way, we¡¯ll have to cross the bridge spanning over the administrative district, but that¡¯s the most I need to pay attention to. The pay is good as well. It¡¯s not excessively low ©¤ such requests generally end up being troublesome ©¤ nor is it excessively high ©¤ those requests generally end up being troublesome as well.


    The girl opened the back door and got into the car. Even though the backseat looked far too big for the girl¡¯s slender body, she politely sat down in a manner that took up as little room as possible, pressing her knees.


    The man started to shut the car door, but stopped just before it closed. He peeked into the car cautiously, scrutinizing it with his eyes.


    ¡°Oi, be very careful while transporting her.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one kind of careful in my line of work.¡±


    Seymour replied, with the underlying implication that he was always paying appropriate, accurate attention, but it apparently didn¡¯t get through to the man in the right way. Looking displeased, the man shut the door while snorting.


    ¡°We¡¯re off. If you want to hold onto something, please feel free, okay?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t expected a reply to his remark, but the girl spoke up. Her voice was slightly husky, like a soft carpet, and a bit lower than he had imagined.


    ¡°Would it be better for me to hold on?¡±


    It was the first time that he had been asked something like that.


    While stopping the corners of his mouth from curving upwards he replied, ¡°Yes. The departure of a car is dangerous. There was actually a study showing that half of all deadly accidents in cars happen due to a passenger suddenly bumping their head right when the car starts to move. Probably. Somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I understand. I will make sure to keep holding on¡­!¡±


    Her far too serious response, accompanied by a firm nod, made Seymour laugh deep inside his throat. He stepped onto the accelerator, albeit a tiny bit more carefully than usual. The girl¡¯s hands tightly grasped the seat and door until she was sufficiently convinced that the car had finished accelerating.


    As midnight was approaching, there wasn¡¯t much traffic. The city¡¯s residents, long ago spat out by the many-storied buildings that lined the streets of the city center, were mostly within their homes, in neighborhoods like this, by now. The congestion, which lasted from morning till night, had become part of the natural scenery of the city in the last few years, but no trace of it could be found now on the roads illuminated by the street lights.


    Seymour turned his gaze towards the rearview mirror. The girl wasn¡¯t gazing outside the window, nor did she harbor any interest or vigilance towards the courier, Seymour. Instead, she kept her eyes down throughout the journey. Her expression didn¡¯t look as if she was engaged in self reflection, rather, it seemed as if her inner self had curled up into a ball, locked up in a birdcage.


    Still, how to describe it? I feel like she¡¯s a girl who doesn¡¯t fit in anywhere. Her long hair, her long skirt, and even her dress, all properly buttoned up to her collar; none of it fits with this era. Being in the backseat of a Sedan-type Essex doesn¡¯t suit her at all. However, if someone were to ask me what car would suit her, nothing would come to mind either. Be it a Bugatti, a Lancia Lambda, or a Ford, I kinda can¡¯t feel that it¡¯d appropriate for her to be in any of them. Or, going even further, she¡¯s a girl who doesn¡¯t fit in with this city, be it the aftermath of the war, the individualism, the mafia, the utilitarian pleasures, Prohibition, or even the Jazz spreading in the city.


    Having thought up to this point, Seymour remonstrated himself. Not asking ¡ºwhat¡» was Seymour Road¡¯s main selling point. Of course, there was no need to come up with sentimental conjectures about the girl on the backseat either.


    Well, be that as it may¡­


    Feeling that her proper bearing and lowered eyes were oddly silly, Seymour turned the wheel slightly roughly as they turned a corner.


    ¡°Hyaa!¡±


    The girl¡¯s small yelp. Her swaying head. And her knees, which had been glued together, it was all thrown into disarray. She lifted her golden eyes. Being stared at through the rearview mirror, Seymour made an effort to gloss it over with a serious face. He was satisfied. He had appeased his childish, mischievous, heart.


    ¡°Excuse me. The road¡¯s surface was frozen.¡±


    That was a lie, but it was true that the road was dyed white at spots thanks to the snow that fell yesterday. However, the far more dreadful spots were the black areas of the road. Over there the snow had been flattened by many tires over the day, and was now in the process of freezing over again as night had fallen. Those patches were far more fiendish than any snow.


    Seymour got very startled when the girl still spoke up because it was something he had done secretively. However, the girl apparently hadn¡¯t noticed Seymour¡¯s childish lie.


    ¡°Umm, the window, is it okay for me to open it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Do you know how? Please be careful, okay? There¡¯s a study stating that half of the deadly accidents in cars actually come from unexpectedly getting stuck in the window when opening and closing it, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a joke, right?¡±


    The one before was a joke as well, Seymour politely added in his mind.


    Even though the girl¡¯s voice carried a laugh, her expression fell somewhat short as usual. The girl opened the window by clumsily turning the handle. The wind blowing into the moving car was biting. Seymour opened and clenched his right hand as his body quivered for a moment. In a flash, his body became so chilled that he could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers.


    This might interfere with my driving. Despite this thought, he had no intention of telling her to close the window.


    ¡°¡­¡­It feels great.¡±


    The girl calmly stared outside the widely-opened window. She faintly inclined her body so that several strands of her hair were caught by the wind, floating outside the car. Despite the numbing coldness, she didn¡¯t blink, let alone tremble. She looked as if she might suddenly get carried away by the wind as soon as he took his eyes off her.


    The car approached the big bridge spanning across the administrative district. Seymour powerfully stepped on the accelerator.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Ah.¡±


    The girl¡¯s hair was shoved around by the wind blowing into the car. Having her head thrown back a bit by the acceleration, the girl smiled faintly, as if rejoicing over his rudeness rather than minding it.


    The world outside the window was dark, with only the city¡¯s dazzling lights standing out. Because the car repeatedly passed lamps atop the bridge, that darkness stood out all the more. Within that darkness, which was far deeper and calmer than that of the ocean beneath them, only the girl¡¯s eyes appeared to shine like morning stars.


    Probably because of that. The girl abruptly muttered a few words. He had no clue why she muttered those words, but her voice was filled with her own sincerity, seemingly leaving her no choice but to voice them out.


    ¡°The night¡¯s darkness, that¡¯s something decided by people.¡±


    Hearing those words, Seymour lightly nodded his head. He didn¡¯t know the girl¡¯s name or her circumstances, but he didn¡¯t think he would forget this moment for the rest of his life.


    This girl, who didn¡¯t fit in with this city at all, seemed to only be at ease within such darkness. And the fact that it was him and his car who provided that environment made him awfully happy. Of course, that was no more than a selfish, strong, emotion soaked with sentimentality, though.


    While maintaining a considerably higher speed than usual, he even thought that it¡¯d be nice for this bridge to continue indefinitely. Seymour was gripped by the gentle impulse that now was a time where he could say even something like that.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Can I have you close the window?¡±


    However, what came out of his mouth next were those words.


    ¡°Eh? Ah, it must be cold, right? I¡¯m very sorry!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not particularly a problem, but, ah¡­¡±


    Once he ambiguously spoke up, the girl tilted her head to the side with a gesture devoid of ill will.


    ¡°It¡¯s Lumi. Lumi Spike.¡±


    ¡°Although it¡¯s not my place to say so after having heard it, it¡¯s better to not tell your name to the people in this city, Ms. Lumi. You never know where shady people might lurk around.¡±


    ¡°But, Mr. Driver, you¡¯re not a bad person, right?¡±


    The girl ©¤©¤ Lumi, hurriedly wound the window¡¯s handle as she spoke. After shrugging his shoulders at her words, Seymour glared through the rearview mirror, and let up on the car¡¯s accelerator.


    ¡°By the way, Ms. Lumi, we¡¯re being chased by several rugged cars. Do you happen to have an idea of who they are?¡±


    Several cars were reflected on the mirror¡¯s surface, which had become slightly cloudy due to the wind. Seymour thought they were just parking, but just now each of them turned on their headlights. The parting words of the beast-like man crossed his mind.


    ¡ºOi, be very careful while transporting her.¡»


    This city was divided into five administrative districts, many of them connected by bridges. In other words, the bridges of this city were perfect for ambushes.


    Lumi widened her eyes. With just that, her mimetic muscles were expressive enough to betray her unrest better than a hundred answers could have done. She quickly cast her eyes, which had been turned outside the window, down.


    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m terribly sorry.¡±


    ¡°These things happen. In short, it means those cars aren¡¯t just big fans of mine, huh?¡±


    ¡°U-Umm¡­please stop the car. I-I think it will be alright as long as they catch me.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you say?¡±


    Lumi raised her eyes, as if that was a matter of etiquette. Her eyes firmly looked into Seymour¡¯s eyes through the mirror.


    ¡°If I¡¯m caught, you will be safe. That¡¯s why¡­ I¡¯m asking you to stop the car.¡±


    Seymour answered while properly staring back at her, ¡°I see. I must decline.¡±


    ¡°Eeehh?¡±


    At that time Seymour had removed one hand from the wheel, and was in the process of rummaging through his pocket. With one eye on the pursuing cars, that had sped up, and were continuing to gain on them, he revealed a smile.


    ¡°All I wanted to know was whether you had any idea about what was going on. Anything beyond that is my problem, Ms. Lumi.¡±


    ¡°B-But, they are really dangerous! I¡¯m sure they are the mafia or something like that. The lives of others don¡¯t mean anything to them©¤©¤©¤©¤!¡±


    ¡°Mebbie,¡± said Seymour with a muffled voice.


    His voice was muffled due to the thin gloves he was holding in his mouth, having just taken them out of his pocket. He pulled on one glove all the way to the fingertips, while biting it with his mouth. Next, he held the wheel with just his right hand, and repeated the same procedure for his left hand. A few small bits of the gloves were already indented, and partly pierced, because of Seymour¡¯s canines. Those markings were evidence that he had done this many times before.


    ¡°But, I¡¯m a courier. Things like obstacles or interferences are irrelevant.¡±


    Five in total. Two in front, and three from behind. They¡¯ve been slowly tightening their encirclement with coordinated movements, like a swarm of orcas targeting a whale.


    He took one deep breath, and, immediately after, he drove his foot into the accelerator.


    ¡°I¡¯m simply going to deliver you©¤©¤©¤©¤okay!?¡±


    It was such a wild acceleration that it almost gave them whiplash. The girl screamed behind Seymour as he swiftly changed gears.


    The pursuers probably hadn¡¯t expected Seymour, who appeared ready to comply for an instant when he started to slow down, to do something like that at all. The teamwork of the five cars was praiseworthy, but they had been slightly careless.


    The Essex thrust its nose through the small gap in their coordination, created by their turmoil. It was a radical maneuver. He heard the sound of Lumi bumping her head against the door as the car flew past their pursuers, up to the bridge¡¯s end.


    ¡°Ah, please hold on tight, okay?¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re a bit late in telling me that!¡±


    Lumi shot back, with tears blurring her eyes, Seymour laughed loudly.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 1 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C


    ¡°Now then.¡±


    We were saved by the night. Right now, there¡¯s hardly any cars out on the streets. If this had happened during the day, we¡¯d have already caused an accident, or gotten stuck in a traffic jam, which would have likely led to us getting caught by those men while trying to escape on foot.


    He recklessly turned several corners. There was no change in the movements and numbers of the pursuers. It seemed as though they didn¡¯t mind stirring up trouble, even if they were in the middle of the city. The reality of the word mentioned by Lumi, Mafia, fully hit him.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have a problem playing tag until morning like this, but©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Morning is no good!¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Mmh?¡±


    Her voice put a puzzled expression on Seymour¡¯s face, but he didn¡¯t look her way.


    Seemingly becoming aware of her overly hysterical reaction with a slight delay, Lumi plainly shook her head, while tightly holding onto the backrest of the passenger seat.


    ¡°I insist, morning is no good.¡±


    ¡°Hmmmm. Well, morning won¡¯t arrive within our 40 minute window anyway.¡±


    To be precise, 28 minutes are left, Seymour thought after looking at the clock.


    ¡°You plan on continuing the delivery!?¡±


    ¡°A situation like this won¡¯t serve for a good reason to stop my job. Man, I really can¡¯t stand capitalism.¡±


    One of the pursuing cars resolutely closed in on Seymour from the side, about to forcibly push his car off the road.


    Seymour swiftly stepped on the brake, dodging the car¡¯s oncoming frame. Immediately following, he threw around the wheel, forcing the car into a U-turn by making the rear wheels drift. A pursuing car, which nearly went into a head-on collision due to his sudden turn, veered off in a panicked manner.


    While perceiving in the corner of his eye how Lumi, who ought to have held onto the passenger¡¯s seat, was sent tumbling again, Seymour quickly scanned the road.


    ¡°Anyway, it kinda looks like a normal escape attempt won¡¯t do us any good. I guess it¡¯s necessary to become slightly unreasonable here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible for you to get even more unreasonable!?¡± Lumi, who had almost completely toppled over, frantically yelled at him.


    ¡°Yeah, grab on tightly©¤©¤©¤©¤no, wait! Don¡¯t move!¡±


    ¡°Eeehh!?¡±


    ¡°Stay just as you are!¡±


    Lumi was laying almost upside-down. That naturally meant that her long, chaste, skirt couldn¡¯t defy gravity either.


    Her pale legs were visible up to the backs of her knees. She had faithfully stopped moving upon Seymour¡¯s sudden, serious instruction, and during that time Seymour concentrated on those legs, with a gaze twice as serious as when he had been focused on the road. Due to the reflection of the light, a faint sheen of sweat ¨C probably because of her nervousness ¨C stood out on the backs of her knees. Even though the city was overrun with that level of exposure, just adding the fact that something, that was hidden by a skirt, had been exposed, made it excessively seductive for some inexplicable reason.


    Lumi said that the night¡¯s darkness is decided by the people, but just like those poetic words, I believe that the seductiveness of exposure is also decided by people.


    ¡°¡­¡­Haah!?¡±


    The destination of a car driving straight forward is easy to predict. Likewise, if a man stares right at something¡­. At the instant Lumi realized that her legs had caught Seymour¡¯s attention, he turned his eyes back to the front.


    ¡°Man, that was dangerous back there. Thanks for freezing, you were a big help.¡±


    ¡°Is that true!? Is that really the truth!?¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed. If you hadn¡¯t done so, both of us would have turned into minced meat on the road.¡± Seymour declared solemnly.


    Be that as it may, their pursuers had been trying to close the distance he had earned through the U-turn while he had been pulling off that peeping. It was the truth that their situation was relatively dire.


    Well, it¡¯s just the perfect spot.


    They had been approaching an alley that he had been zeroing in on for a short while now. If one were to ask what might be perfect about it, the answer would be the alley¡¯s width, which was narrower than all the cars involved in this chase, including Seymour¡¯s. On top of that, a fire hydrant had been planted at the entrance to the alley.


    While heading that way, Seymour sharply turned the steering wheel around.


    ¡°Mr. Driver!?¡± Lumi screamed.


    His action might have looked suicidal from the outside. The cars behind them lowered their speed slightly.


    Seymour firmly clenched his back molars, and while stepping on the accelerator, he pressed his left foot against the car¡¯s floor, bracing himself with all his might.


    Then he called out behind himself, ¡°Please lean against the left side!¡±


    ¡°P-Pardon!?¡±


    ¡°Here we go!¡±


    The alley was narrow. That meant the distance between the walls was small. The image of himself becoming a chunk of meat, indistinguishable from the car¡¯s frame after crashing into the wall head on, crossed his mind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤gh!¡±


    In the next moment, the Essex¡¯ right tires hit a curb, bouncing up.


    ¡°Oh, wh©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Lumi said, as she stuck to the door like chewing gum. Seymour focused on the car¡¯s frame, making sure to close his eyes partly, so as to not be thrown off-balance, while still heading straight into the alley. Just like that, the Essex plunged into the alley with the wheels on one side airborne.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!?¡±


    Seymour could hear a grinding sound from beneath the car¡¯s frame, as the fire hydrant had been somewhat taller than expected. However, that was all. He had lifted the tires on the right into the air, leaving only the tires on the left planted on the ground. Because of that, the Essex could forcibly enter an alley that should have been too narrow to accommodate it.


    ¡°nh!?¡±


    Crashing sounds came from behind them, alongside an aura of agitation. Someone, who had kept chasing under the assumption that Seymour would avoid the alley, had likely crashed into the alley¡¯s entrance, unable to make a turn in time. Following that, the sounds of many brakes were audible.


    Pheew, great. It seemed that none of their pursuers could pull off driving on two wheels in order to follow Seymour.


    ¡°Whaaaa, whaaaaaaaaaaaaa!?¡±


    ¡°Please calm down. At this point it¡¯s no different from driving normally.¡±


    After rocking his body, the right tires dropped onto the alley wall¡¯s surface. Like this, there was no risk of them falling over anymore either. The car sent a trash bin flying. Seymour knitted his eyebrows due to a banana peel, that had turned pitch black, sticking to his windshield.


    He invoked the map in his mind. If we leave this alley, we¡¯ll come out on the main street on the opposite side. Our pursuers will need several minutes to reach that place if they take the detour. If it¡¯s only that, diving into another ©¤ I¡¯d like to spare myself from driving on two tires again ©¤ alley, and thus getting out of the pursuer¡¯s sight will be easy.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll be okay now.¡±


    As they exited the alley, they no longer had to drive on two wheels. When the right tires dropped to the ground, the car bounced up once due to the recoil.


    ¡°N-No matter how many hearts I¡¯ve got, it wouldn¡¯t be enough¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright now. From now it should be okay to drive normally.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great to hear¡­and, thank you very much.¡±


    Hearing a thanks is really rare in this city, Seymour¡¯s lips ended up twisting in a cynical way.


    ¡°Ah, but, it¡¯ll be quite a close call on whether we¡¯ll make the time limit of 40 minutes. Should we use a few more shortcuts?¡±


    Lumi¡¯s scream echoed into the night.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    What he found at the place of the address was a single house. Not grand enough to have a huge garden, but a step up from being stuffed into a cramped apartment building. The faded paint made it clear the occupant was not someone of class, but they had enough pride to keep the gutters and such in good repair.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    Normally Seymour would not have said these words out loud, but he got a bit careless as he stopped the car and let them slip. He had slightly misread his distance to Lumi, and thus he gave voice to something a courier usually shouldn¡¯t ask.


    Lumi gave no hint that she minded the question. She leaned forward, shortening the distance between them. She was engulfed by an odorless air that seemed to sting the nose. Her hand was firmly clasping the seat, as if to say that she wouldn¡¯t let go for the time being.


    ¡°It¡¯s uncle¡¯s home.¡±


    ¡°Uncle?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am, umm¡­¡­being chased.¡±


    This time he managed to maintain the proper professional distance. In other words, he could nod at her words without showing any kind of curiosity.


    Something like loneliness appeared on Lumi¡¯s face in response to Seymour¡¯s behavior. When Seymour saw the emotion on her face, although she tried to hide it, a feeling of guilt strongly welled up within his heart.


    In the end, Lumi continued speaking without going into the details, ¡°So, my uncle is here. He will protect me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good. I¡¯m a simple courier, but I dislike stories with too much of a bitter aftertaste.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you really saved me there. Thank you very much.¡±


    Lumi extended her hand towards the door, but stopped. After moving her eyes left and right, she said in a timid tone, ¡°U-Umm, could I have you tell me your name?¡±


    ¡°¡­. The man who was escorting you already knew my name, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°I want to hear it out of your mouth. ¡­¡­.Is that a bother?¡±


    It¡¯d be fine to just say it¡¯s a bother and refuse. I¡¯m pretty sure that would be the correct move for a courier. I¡¯ve already exchanged more words with her than I should have in the first place.


    Even so, something inside him couldn¡¯t let go of everything that had transpired between them. He answered her despite himself.


    ¡°Seymour Road. Please call me whenever you need my service.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Mr. Seymour! Let¡¯s meet again!¡±


    Lumi¡¯s bright smile seemed to even illuminate the night.


    Lumi got out of the car. As he saw her off, Seymour thought that that smile was the most valuable reward of the night. After placing her feet on the ground and bowing, Lumi headed over to the gate of the mansion. A middle-aged man came out of the house. Lumi patiently waited for him. The man¡¯s face was dyed with surprise at having a visitor at such a late hour.


    Seymour could hear Lumi¡¯s voice through the glass of the car¡¯s window.


    ¡°Good evening.¡±


    ¡°Y-Yeah, good evening. But, you¡¯re©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    I don¡¯t get the situation, but I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be safe now.


    Just when Seymour was about to step on the accelerator, thinking that things were resolved©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    An explosion blew everything to smithereens. All the house¡¯s windows simultaneously burst out from within, and the vibration jolted even Seymour¡¯s core within the car. Heat burst forth, and then silence in the next second. What next reached his eardrums, which remained numb due to the explosion¡¯s thunderous roar, was the sound of fragments raining down. Countless small objects, that might have been part of the building, furniture, or even living beings, struck the bonnet of the car.


    ¡°¡­¡­Eh?¡±


    Turmoil. What Seymour, who had stopped moving, witnessed was a man with a gun at hand, who had appeared from within the grounds of the house that had gone up in the explosion.


    ¡°¡­¡­Eh?¡±


    He didn¡¯t have time to react in any way. Even his fingers, which were grasping the steering wheel, didn¡¯t twitch at all.


    A bullet penetrated the head of the house¡¯s owner. The man¡¯s body crumbled down. The assailant fired further shots into the head of the collapsed man. When the man stopped shooting bullets, the man¡¯s head had turned into mush.


    The assailant let his eyes wander. What they settled on next was Lumi Spike, who stood stock still, like she was brain-dead.


    And, even more brain-dead was Seymour, who kept grasping the wheel. He knew that he had to get away from here. He fully understood that, but¡­


    His eyes moved, stopping at the figure of the silver-haired girl. What¡¯s going to happen to her if I make off? Such a stupid question popped up in his mind, and the answer to it was as plain as day, without even the need to think about it.


    ¡°¡­¡­W-Why.¡±


    The events taking place happened at the same time. If you were to think about it, it was obvious. A girl simply standing stock still, and a guy sitting in a car. Which was more likely to get away, and which should be killed first.


    In other words, the man shot his gun at Seymour,


    ¡°M-Mr. Seymour©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Lumi thrust herself into the line of fire,


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Ah.¡±


    Seymour didn¡¯t know what Lumi tried to say at the moment she threw her body in the bullet¡¯s way. That¡¯s because the bullet, which flew at supersonic speed, churned through her brain. He understood that from watching her head get thrown backwards, and her body collapse after losing its strength, and the dark red spray of blood dancing through the air, as if chasing it.


    What the fuck is going on?


    Seymour¡¯s mind raced. He watched as the assassin tilted his head to the side, wondering just what to make of the dumbfounded Seymour, then turned around and left. Maybe he decided Seymour was not a member of the household ©¤ not a target that ought to be killed.


    What was left behind was Seymour, who didn¡¯t know what to do, and the corpse of the girl, laying on the street with her head blown open.


    Lumi¡¯s face had lost its shape, with her right eye gone. Her hair clung together due to the blood. Her left eye wasn¡¯t visible through her closed eyelid. Her limbs were a mess, pointing in all kinds of directions. The shoe had slipped off one of her feet.


    Her mouth was open. That mouth, which had laughed at Seymour¡¯s stupid jokes, muttered something poetic as she watched the sky, and smiled at him at the end, was now a simple hole, gaping wide open.


    While gazing at her in a daze, Seymour¡¯s mouth moved on its own accord.


    ¡°I-I have to escape¡­¡­!¡±


    After all, that alone was the truth. There was no way to know when the assailant might change his mind and come back. It was obvious that there was something fishy going on with this situation.


    Such a flashy attack was unprecedented for a mafia dispute. Not content to just send a bomb, they even went as far as sending a gunman to shoot any survivors. The reason for doing all that was the girl, the girl that had turned into an object laying sprawled on the ground, or the owner of this house.


    That¡¯s why I have to get away at once, that¡¯d be the appropriate response for anyone in this city, let alone a courier,


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh, fuck it!¡±


    However, that girl said ¡ºLet¡¯s meet again¡».


    Seymour kicked the door open and grabbed Lumi¡¯s body. It had a creepy, clammy feeling that made it hard to believe that it had been alive not long ago. Her limbs swayed powerlessly, and the contents of her head spilled out, having lost their enclosure.


    Seymour grabbed the girl¡¯s arm, dragged her across the ground for a bit, and then tossed her body into the backseat of his car. He didn¡¯t know what result he could expect from that action, but he felt like he couldn¡¯t leave this place without her.


    ¡°Ah, jeez! Come on!¡±


    Returning to the driver¡¯s seat, he slammed the accelerator like he was trying to break it. The accelerating lump of iron allowed him to leave the sweltering heat of the burning house behind.


    ¡°Shit, shit! What¡¯s the deal here!? After I finally thought I had done a job I could feel good about for a change!¡±


    He roughly turned the wheel. He knew that the girl¡¯s body was rolling around in the backseat. That tumbling, which he had found charming on the way here, felt awfully eerie on the way back.


    In the first place, what¡¯s the point in taking her back home? If I try holding a burial for the corpse of an unknown girl who died in a shooting, or something like that, someone will definitely contact the police, I¡¯m sure.


    And if they were to examine Seymour¡¯s job, they would be sure to find as much dirt on him as they wanted.


    However, rather than that, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Fuuuck!¡±


    The girl had died. Lumi Spike had died.


    Seymour had a hard time believing that someone like him was so shaken up over this fact. Today he had been hired to transport her by coincidence, and even though they ran into a bit of trouble, their acquaintance amounted to a single car ride.


    Although that was all, he wondered what was going on with him.


    ¡°Calm down. Please settle down. Feeling shaky isn¡¯t all that unusual after something like this. That¡¯s right, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s just all the unusual things that happened today.¡±


    The sirens of a firetruck reached his ears. ¡®Someone has probably reported the explosion by now.


    The constant rhythm reverberating from the car¡¯s lower frame soothed Seymour¡¯s heart. ¡®It¡¯s alright.¡¯ His body was already moving toward a clearly defined goal, namely, gaining distance from the murder scene as quickly as possible.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯ll be okay. Nothing else could surprise me toda©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Umm.¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Oohhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!?¡±


    Seymour was shocked to hear a voice coming from the back of the car. He was pretty impressed with himself for not causing an accident right at that moment. Somehow he managed to stabilize the car, which had drifted wildly into the opposing lane, by turning the wheel with all his might.


    Then he looked into the rearview mirror.


    Without him noticing, the girl¡¯s corpse had stopped rolling around. It¡¯s not that it was gone. It ceased rolling around, and was now sitting upright in the backseat. Its kneecaps were tightly pressed together again, too. The head injury hadn¡¯t disappeared. Her skull still featured an exceedingly dark, gaping, hole. Despite the fact that it was still missing a lot of pieces, the mouth of the girl¡¯s corpse ©¤ or maybe the mouth of something that wasn¡¯t even a corpse, moved distinctly.


    ¡°U-Umm, a-are you okay¡­?¡±


    The voice was garbled as would be appropriate for a corpse, but Seymour found himself just as unable to form coherent words.


    ¡°No, eh, oi, eh? D-Died, shot, your brain! Hey, fuck!¡±


    Apparently oblivious to Seymour¡¯s shameful behavior, maybe because she couldn¡¯t see properly without her right eye, Lumi continued with a care-free tone, ¡°That¡¯s¡­g-great. A-As long¡­as you haven¡¯t been injured¡­ Sorry, f-for this. I-I dragged you into my business¡­¡±


    Lumi choked. Each time her head shook, more of its content spilled out with a glugging sound, and the contents which dropped out slowly slithered back up along her legs, as if trying to return to where they came from by their own will.


    Lumi¡¯s lips formed a smile that looked like a spasm. Masochism and self-deprecation. Those emotions, which didn¡¯t seem to suit her, were clearly portrayed on her face.


    ¡°I-It¡¯s o-okay. I-I¡¯m a v-vampire after a-all¡­¡±


    Lumi collapsed with those words, cutting her sentence short. She was as silent as death. However, despite her body not moving at all, the blood and flesh continued to squirm around like insects living in soil. I guess that means she¡¯s not dead. Seymour mused about the word she used.


    Vampire.


    Even though I should have more information now, I still don¡¯t understand. I have no idea what I might have just gotten myself into, or even what the body on my backseat might be. However, it¡¯s pretty clear that the invisible risks will only keep growing in number.


    However, even though he had been thrust into this situation, it was still a fact that the thought of discarding Lumi never occurred to Seymour.


    To take his mind off his trembling fingers, Seymour removed one hand from the wheel, and put a cigarette into his mouth. While gnawing on the cigarette without lighting it, he muttered,


    ¡°It¡¯s all fine. Nothing else could surprise me today.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 2.1

    ¡ºHistoric First! Woman Completes the Solo First Nonstop Flight Across the Pacific!¡»


    Seymour sighed, folding the newspaper over its blaring headline and tossing it onto the coat in the passenger seat.


    ¡°¡­Nothing about yesterday, eh?¡±


    There was no mention about yesterday¡¯s shooting and explosion in the newspaper. And not just that. Turf wars between the various mafia families in the city raged on, but very little of it was reflected in the papers.


    It wasn¡¯t as though the mafia was controlling the information either.


    To put it simply, no one cared. Instead, the most eye-catching pieces covered all kinds of records like nonstop flights, surveys of unexplored regions, and records of most time spent underwater. They didn¡¯t even acknowledge the significance of these achievements, emptily praising them for being achievements in and of themselves.


    Seymour usually wasn¡¯t one to sigh, but today one escaped his lips.


    There was a distinct feeling of averting your eyes from the truly compelling issues in favor of the sensational. A perverted feeling of having your priorities backwards. Today, Seymour suddenly felt the melancholy of the era weigh down heavily on him.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Hey man, you okay?¡±


    The question directed at him through the window felt like the reverberations of last night¡¯s explosion in his head. He pulled down the window, shifting his eyes outside.


    ¡°Yes. No problem. I¡¯m on time, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, as always. Good work.¡± An Oriental man with a good build and sunglasses replied, smiling at him.


    Seymour wasn¡¯t familiar enough with foreigners to be able to guess an exact age, but he was probably at an age where he could pass as Seymour¡¯s dad. The familiar face and voice made him smile, and he reached over to the passenger¡¯s seat. He picked up three blue cigar boxes with ¡ºGrind the MillTui Mo¡»written on them.


    While he was at it, he said in a flat voice that would hide his intent, ¡°You might want to have a chat with the client about this job. The packaging is getting visibly sloppier¡­or well. More like, they¡¯ve stopped wrapping it entirely.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t his first time delivering a package to this man. Seymour had seen his face once or twice a week for over a year now, and like everything in life, it took them a while to get used to each other. In the beginning, the packages were wrapped up carefully on top of being in a huge dummy case. But, soon the dummy case disappeared and the box itself was just wrapped up in a cloth, and finally, today, the cigars ©¤ which Seymour had only just discovered were what he¡¯d been delivering all along ©¤ had been left uncovered.


    Seymour never asked¡ºwhat¡»as a rule, but he couldn¡¯t help it since the client hadn¡¯t even wrapped it this time around. Seemingly understanding what Seymour, who was fighting back a grimace, was thinking, the man chuckled lightly.


    ¡°It simply means that your work deserves this much trust.¡± The job should have been finished with the hand-over of the cigars, however the man kept talking, ¡°By the way, here.¡±


    He thrust several bills through the window.


    ¡°Pardon? I have already received my payment.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it. Your car, look, it stinks.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    During yesterday¡¯s uproar, various things had made their way into Seymour¡¯s Essex. The smell of gunpowder and ash was much harder to get rid of than that of garbage. There were also stains here and there all over the black frame of the car.


    ¡°This should be enough for a car wash. It¡¯s vital to your work, so you should take proper care of it.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll gratefully accept your kindness.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry ¡¯bout it. Just earn enough cash to afford this kind of thing, at least.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha, not everything in life is about money, though.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, how deep, dude.¡±


    After the man has seen him off with a teasing laugh, Seymour exhaled in relief.


    No car chase, no explosions, and of course no gunshots or death either. Wonderful. A very ordinary, everyday job. Well, ordinary is quite the rarity in this city, though.


    ¡°Still¡­¡±


    Although the afternoon traffic couldn¡¯t be described as a traffic jam, it was still congested enough to make Seymour tap his pedals impatiently. After confirming that it was safe in front, he took a peek at the back seat. The abnormality was quite obvious even at a glance. The Essex¡¯ back seat was clean and tidy when compared to the car¡¯s exterior, even though it had been covered in a girl¡¯s blood and flesh just yesterday.


    Seymour hadn¡¯t done anything that could be called cleaning. And even if he had diligently scrubbed the whole seat, the putrid stench that the stains had given off yesterday should still be clinging to it.


    ¡°Well, in other words, c¡¯est la vie.¡±


    After driving for another 30 minutes, Seymour¡¯s home came into view. Although the only person who would recognise it as a home was Seymour. It was one of many garages lining this street on the outskirts of town. A perpetual salty sea breeze travelled up the river beside the street from the nearby ocean.


    Seymour stopped the car in front of the garage that broadly resembled a giant dog house. He got out of his car and rolled his neck. Then sneezed. This neighborhood was often referred to as an industrial area, and had the charm of being deserted except for the periods when the various workers clocked in or out in the morning and evening, but only the bad air produced by the factory across the street was a distinct drawback.


    He took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. As he grabbed the shutter, the rust rubbed against his palm. He liked the rough, brittle texture, and thus he didn¡¯t go out of his way to remove the rust. Shoving the shutter twice to get it fully open, both accompanied by loud jarring screeches that threatened to bring the whole place down, he drove into the garage.


    The garage itself was a cramped hole that seemed too small even though there was only one car, a tool shelf and a few materials strewn about. With the window shut, the only light source was a naked bulb that hung from the ceiling, coloring the stagnant air a yellowish-brown. The metallic material of the walls was clearly exposed, though there were some richly colored patches here and there. Those were a result of Seymour occasionally splashing some paint on them for a change of pace, and the various layers of paint managed to come together and vaguely resemble marble.


    Seymour climbed the ladder to a small loft above the garage. The small mezzanine floor made the already small garage seem even more cramped. That small loft served as Seymour¡¯s living space. And right now, there was a girl sleeping in the bed.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    The girl¡¯s ©¤©¤©¤©¤ Lumi¡¯s face was quite pretty. The blood and brain matter she had spilled on the back seat of the Essex last night had now settled back in her head, returning to its previous state. There was no doubt about that since Seymour had watched with his own eyes how the blood and flesh had crawled back into her body as if he were watching a movie backwards. And, she had remained asleep ever since yesterday. He had tucked her in with a blanket that more closely resembled a rag with its machine oil stains and burn marks, but her breathing had remained regular and she never woke. The hem of her skirt, which she had been wearing since yesterday along with the rest of her outfit, was riding rather dangerously high.


    Making his way through the heaps of miscellaneous goods on the floor, Seymour leaned back on his workdesk and lit a cigarette. He pulled on the wristwatch he took off to drive and stretched out a leg, drawing a metallic trash can to himself. He slowly filled his lungs with smoke with an expression that was a lot more emotionless than that of the sleeping girl.


    The trash can had managed to catch the ash of two cigarettes by the time the girl¡¯s eyelids snapped open.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Nh, ah.¡± A delicate sigh.


    Her long eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Seymour covered his mouth with his right hand. The cigarette between two fingers, he pressed it to his mouth before pulling it away to reveal a smile.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Goood¡­mooornin¡¯¡­¡± Lumi greeted him back properly even as her head lolled a bit.


    Only then did her eyes focus. Immediately a red tinge appeared on her cheeks, clearly signaling her embarrassment. Pulling her legs up under her and dragging the blanket up to cover everything from chin to toes, she said.


    ¡°Umm¡­¡­good morning. Excuse me for occupying your bed all night long.¡±


    Those are her first words after waking up in the bed of a man who¡¯s basically a stranger to her?


    There was a small chuckle from Seymour, but it was natural and unplanned, unlike a little while ago.


    ¡°I feel like you¡¯re an early riser for a vampire. There¡¯s still some time left until dusk.¡±


    The word still didn¡¯t feel quite real to him even though he had said it countless times since last night ¨C vampire. The word seemed to be quite significant to Lumi however, her shoulders betraying how she had started at the mere mention.


    ¡°Besides, you look awfully healthy for someone whose brain was all over my backseat just yesterday.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­E-Excuse me.¡±


    ¡°What are you apologizing for?¡± Seymour asked quite genuinely, not intending it as a snide remark or with any sarcasm.


    But his tone came out crueler than he had imagined it would, and Seymour suspected that he might be a little irritated.


    Just, about what?


    He saw a pang of fear flash through Lumi¡¯s golden eyes as she perceptively sensed the sharpness oozing out of his voice.


    ¡°Vampire, huh, what¡¯s all that about?¡±


    ¡°W-What¡¯s that about, you ask¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not really knowledgeable about these kinds of things, so I don¡¯t quite know what it entails.¡± Seymour only knew that term from the fictional stories that could be found on every street corner. ¡°They suck human blood, are weak against sunlight, can turn into fog, can¡¯t cross running water, transform into bats, hate crosses, perish when having a stake driven into their heart, and hate garlic. That¡¯s about as much as I know about vampires.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, that¡¯s the kind of being I am.¡± Lumi had a deadly serious look on her face as she agreed with what Seymour had said half in jest.


    He lifted an eyebrow, unconvinced, but there wasn¡¯t a single sign that indicated that she was kidding.


    The silver-haired girl straightened up on the bed. Lowering the blanket that had been draped over her body, she crumpled it up with her fingers, and confirmed Seymour¡¯s words with a beautiful voice entirely unworthy of a being commonly referred to as a monster.


    ¡°I suck human blood, am weak against sunlight, can turn into fog, can¡¯t cross running water, transform into bats, hate crosses, perish when having a stake driven into my heart, and hate garlic. ©¤©¤©¤©¤That¡¯s the kind of vampire I am.¡±


    Even though he felt like laughing it off, the scene he had witnessed last night still lingered in Seymour¡¯s mind. He couldn¡¯t conclusively decide whether she was a vampire or not ©¤ it¡¯s not like he could check by throwing her out into the sun right now ©¤ but there was no doubt that she had survived having a huge hole blown in her head.


    ¡®Usually when people¡¯s brains are splattered outside their head, they¡¯re pretty dead. In other words, she¡¯s definitely not human.


    Seymour fell silent for a while. He only pulled himself together once the heat of his cigarette made itself a priority. He took one last puff from the last remnants of the cigarette, and ground it out against the trash can. With it, he easily extinguished the questions swirling in his head.


    ¡°I see. Well, then¡­¡± The most important question wasn¡¯t whether or not she was a vampire. ¡°¡­are you being chased by the mafia?¡±


    He was pretty sure the same images that were being dredged up in his mind at the words were flashing through hers as well. An exploding house. A man¡¯s head turned into bloody pulp by gunshots. Gunshots spilling her open.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Yes, I must be, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Must be?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always lived with my mother up until fairly recently. In a small house, just the two of us. But, mother¡­didn¡¯t come home one day.¡±


    Lumi tearfully swallowed before she managed to get the words ¡ºdidn¡¯t come home¡»out. Seymour didn¡¯t feel like probing any further about this.


    ¡°And then I was taken to a much bigger house, a mansion. I didn¡¯t really know what was happening, but there were many men there, and I knew that they were scheming something¡­bad¡­¡­.¡± Lumi¡¯s shoulders trembled, as if she was struggling to breathe.


    ¡°¡­¡­And then, I ran away from there yesterday.¡±


    Seymour¡¯s reply was the same as before, ¡°I see.¡±


    He felt like just saying those two words was a little heartless so he added in a slightly flustered manner, ¡°Okay, I understand the situation. We don¡¯t know who exactly is targeting you, but there¡¯s value in just knowing that the mafia is after you.¡±


    The human-shaped entity before him was a vampire. That was worth something in and of itself. There might be dirty work they would force this inhuman monster to do, or they might simply plan to market her like some panda, tropical fish, or rhinoceros beetle. It was also possible that someone had simply fallen for Lumi¡¯s charm, as unexpected as it might sound. Still, there was no real point in trying to guess their motives.


    ¡°You were targeted yesterday, and that¡¯s not likely to have changed today or tomorrow.¡±


    Lumi cast her eyes down. As soon as she did, Seymour felt the mood of the whole room plummet.


    ¡°Yes¡­you¡¯re probably right. I¡¯m still being chased, am I not?¡±


    Then her leather boots landed on the floor with a thud. Her feet had been hidden in her shoes since yesterday, and Seymour idly wondered if they were swollen or in pain. Lumi still looked rather unstable even though she had managed to get up. Seymour lent her a hand.


    ¡°¡­¡­gh!?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Kyaaa!?¡±


    His hand was flung off as soon as they made contact. But not because Lumi had shaken it off. Some invisible, mysterious force had repelled them from each other. The impact was so strong that Seymour might have stumbled if he wasn¡¯t leaning against the desk. His entire arm was numb, like he had just been electrocuted. The force tore the wristwatch right off his arm, sending it flying into the wall and before it fell all the way to the ground floor with a loud clatter. The force had repelled Lumi as well, bending her arm backward unnaturally.


    An instantaneous commotion, followed by an instinctive comprehension of the cause.


    ¡°Vampire, eh¡­?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s wristwatch was decorated with silver. Vampires were weak against silver. They couldn¡¯t touch it. It was a well known fact in vampire folklore. .


    That inability to touch silver must have produced the force. It must have been generated to ensure that she never had contact with silver.


    That was the conclusion Seymour came to. Lumi¡¯s eyes widened, either from the pain or her anxiety. Her eyes tracked the path of the fallen wristwatch, her teeth clenched and her lips pursed into a thin line.


    ¡°¡­¡­Sorry.¡±


    An apology that seemed to be aimed at no one in particular. But Seymour somehow had a hunch what she¡¯d say next.


    ¡°Umm, I¡¯ll leave right now. I¡¯m terribly sorry for imposing on you for such a long time. Thank you very much.¡± She bowed once, and started to walk off unsteadily, though it was slow enough that her hair remained limp on her shoulders despite her unsteadiness.


    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±


    Seymour silently thrust his numb fingers into the cigarette pack. He spun the cigarette in his fingers, noting that he hadn¡¯t lost any range of motion.


    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±


    Bringing it to his mouth, he stopped and sighed. The scene from last night replayed through his mind. Lumi¡¯s long hair fluttering in the wind. The moment that had been so vivid that he hadn¡¯t even cared that his fingers had lost all sensation or that the wind had chilled him to the bone.


    He sighed once more.


    After making sure that he wasn¡¯t carrying other silver besides the wristwatch, he grabbed Lumi¡¯s hand as she passed him, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers.


    ¡°Hyaaa!¡±


    ¡°¡­Do you have somewhere you can go?¡±


    Despite the hand holding her back, she didn¡¯t turn back to look at him. Seymour could only see the back of her well-shaped head.


    ¡°Ah, no, that is¡­I¡¯ve always lived with my mother, so¡­¡±


    ¡°What about the guy from yesterday?¡±


    ¡°That man is a member of the mafia that kidnapped me. Although he allowed me to get away for some unknown reason¡­¡±


    Seymour smiled wryly at how she had said it so airily, in complete contrast to the actual words coming out of her mouth. Seymour didn¡¯t give a damn why he wanted to let Lumi Spike get away. In the end, if he really intended to save her, then he shouldn¡¯t have stuffed her into Seymour¡¯s car and caused her to end up all alone.


    He felt her warmth through the hand he was grabbing. It seemed that vampires were warm-blooded. And as far as Seymour was concerned, the most solid proof that a person was human was their body temperature. If they were comfortable to embrace, then they were human.


    ¡°How about staying with me then?¡±


    He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. This was a choice that definitely came with trouble.


    Lumi also realized it. She whirled around with wide eyes, before slowly lowering them again.


    ¡°But¡­¡­I can¡¯t trouble you Mr. Seymour, not any more than¡­¡±


    That made sense. If Seymour had been sitting in his car, he would never have said anything like that. Rescuing a girl being chased by the mafia wasn¡¯t part of a courier¡¯s job description. But, currently his hands weren¡¯t holding onto the wheel, and his feet weren¡¯t resting on the pedals.


    ¡°How about this, then. Yesterday that man requested that I escort you home. And that job isn¡¯t over yet. The place I was supposed to deliver you to was blown to pieces before you could enter it.¡± The corners of Seymour¡¯s lips twitched upward. ¡°That¡¯s why, you see¡­¡­as compensation, I¡¯ll deliver you somewhere on my pride as a courier. Anywhere you wish to go to.¡±


    Seymour spoke with a level of determination that was quite rare for Seymour, but even so, traces of hesitation still remained in Lumi¡¯s eyes. Therefore, since he was already committed, he added one more brief comment.


    ¡°As a special limited time offer, I¡¯ll even take you to somewhere that¡¯s not recorded on the map, okay?¡±


    Though Lumi couldn¡¯t possibly understand the real meaning behind those words, she still laughed softly like her heartstrings had been pulled. She turned around, and for the first time, Seymour saw a faint playfulness in her eyes.


    ¡°If you tell me all that, I¡¯ll really depend on you, you know?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Even though I might look like this, my job completion rate is my greatest pride.¡±


    ¡°In that case©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Lumi requested boldly, her seriousness undercut by the smile on her face, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤please take me somewhere safe.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 2.2

    Taking Lumi Spike to a ¡ºsafe place¡» naturally wouldn¡¯t be a normal, simple delivery job. Seymour and Lumi were both implicitly aware of that fact, but they quickly encountered an issue that needed to be rectified posthaste. Lumi was a vampire, and wounds not inflicted by her legendary weaknesses apparently vanished without a trace. Unfortunately, this was limited to just her body.


    In other words, her clothes were a tattered mess thanks to yesterday¡¯s events.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Okay, we¡¯re here.¡±


    Because of this, Seymour had driven them to a middle class residential area nearby in his Essex a few hours after sunset.


    ¡°This place is¡­?¡±


    Considering their destination, it was best for Lumi to avoid looking like a ¡ºsuspicious woman wearing filthy clothes¡», thus she was currently covering herself with Seymour¡¯s jacket. However, the oversized men¡¯s clothing only added to her overall indecent appearance.


    Seymour knocked on the door of a white house with a small garden.


    ¡°It¡¯s my parent¡¯s home.¡±


    Stepping off the car, Lumi¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°¡­¡­.Your parent¡¯s home? So, that means your parents will be inside?¡±


    ¡°Why do you look so surprised? Did you think that I was some kind of car part that was manufactured in a factory?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it, but¡­it¡¯s somewhat difficult for me to think of you as anything but a courier.¡±


    Is that how it works? Well, maybe it¡¯s normal to have trouble with that. Seymour also found it hard to imagine Lumi living the happy life she had before she had the mafia on her tail.


    Soon after, a voice could be heard from the other side of the door, ¡°Yes, who might you be?¡±


    ¡°A hitman.¡±


    ¡°Ah, bro. Welcome home.¡±


    The door opened in front of Seymour as he pouted. A tall and lanky girl appeared before them. She was just slightly shorter than Seymour, but tall enough that their eyes could still meet. Her wavy, voluminous hair was cropped short, making her look rather top heavy.


    ¡°I¡¯m back, Sunny. Long time no see.¡± Seymour deftly spread his arms, clearly asking for a hug.


    Sunny readily ignored his gesture, extending a hand towards him instead. She patted down his butt and thighs, then moved upwards, locating and pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. After crushing it in her hands, she grinned.


    ¡°It really has been a long time. Hmm, I think the last time you came back home was in summer?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right since you spent ages deliberating on which swimsuit you wanted to wear to the beach.¡±


    ¡°You tease!¡± Sunny casually jabbed Seymour¡¯s shoulder.


    Then she suddenly noticed the girl gawking up at her next to Seymour with a start. Having said that, it was fairly understandable. When Seymour and Sunny interacted, Lumi wouldn¡¯t really enter their line of sight.


    ¡°Eh? Whoa!? What a cutie! Umm, who might you be? Oh, wait, bro suddenly coming back must mean¡­? Bah, you need to tell us such things in advance, you know!? I wonder, who¡¯s older between us? Are you going to be my big sister? Or my little sister? I have to tell Mum right away! You have pretty hair!¡±


    ¡°Umm, you see¡­¡±


    ¡°Let her speak.¡±


    When Seymour poked her forehead, Sunny slapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled through her palm, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry! I always end up babbling on end all by myself!¡±


    ¡°N-No, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m Lumi Spike. Umm, Mr. Seymour is¡­umm.¡±


    Seymour put a hand on Lumi¡¯s shoulder as she struggled to find a good explanation for their circumstances. He had handled Sunny with a lighter hand.


    ¡°This is Sunny, my little sister. And Sunny, it¡¯s been decided that I¡¯ll take care of this girl here for a while due to work. However, various things happened and I couldn¡¯t prepare any clothes or anything for her.¡±


    ¡°Due to work, huh? That¡¯s totally fishy.¡±


    Sunny¡¯s eyes were pinned on Seymour¡¯s jacket around Lumi. Come to think of it, I¡¯ve worn this jacket in front of Sunny before, haven¡¯t I? She¡¯s a fussy one who never forgets small details like that.


    ¡°Are you still working as a courier?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s family had a vague idea about his job. The goods he actually delivered aside, at least they knew that he was a private courier who¡¯d accept any job, no matter how shady.


    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s a job for that shady Mr. Courier. You¡¯ve still got all your old clothes, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Sunny grew as fast as bamboo once she hit puberty, so she had many opportunities to buy clothes. Out of nostalgia and sentimentality, his sister had kept almost all of those old past clothes.


    ¡°Can you lend me some? I¡¯ll probably give them back to you soon.¡±


    ¡°Bro, that¡¯s the tone you use when you don¡¯t plan on returning things¡­ Well, whatever, I¡¯ll lend you some anyway. Hmm, I think the clothes I wore when I was 13 should be just right for her.¡±


    ¡°Which reminds me, I haven¡¯t asked yet either. How old are you, Ms. Lumi?¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m 19 years old.¡±


    Confronted with her big upturned eyes, Seymour and Sunny¡¯s smiles were strained.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll wait in the car then©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Seymour started to say, as if he had expected nothing less, but Sunny immediately cut in.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to greet Mum, bro?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­ Hmm, I guess you¡¯re right, I should.¡±


    An unnatural pause, and a mumbled agreement. Ignoring the faintly questioning look in the golden eyes, he asked Sunny to take Lumi with her, and entered the house as well.


    Seymour gently massaged the area around his eyes, knowing without looking that his brows were instinctively furrowed. This place was filled with too many memories. As he passed the short hallway and walked into the living room, he ran into his mother. It wasn¡¯t as though she hadn¡¯t noticed Seymour entering, but her eyes didn¡¯t leave the knitwork in her hands.


    ¡°Hey, Mum. I¡¯m back.¡±


    Three chairs stood at the long table. Two were lined up at the head, close to the door, and one had been left on the opposite side. The chair that exuded an air of isolation was his mother¡¯s usual spot. She didn¡¯t reply to Seymour¡¯s greeting as he leaned against the door. Seymour sighed, and sat down on the chair diagonally across from his mother.


    After sitting down, he noticed a cushion had been put on the chair. Frowning at its softness, he pulled it out and stacked it on top of Sunny¡¯s chair. The cushion hadn¡¯t been there when he came here last time. Although many years had already passed since Seymour moved out, his mother was still buying furniture and other things in sets of three. She probably knew that this fact kept Seymour away from this home instead.


    ¡°I¡¯m back.¡±


    His mother slowly looked up at Seymour¡¯s face.


    ¡°Welcome home. Why the sudden visit? Are you going to stay for dinner?¡±


    ¡°I just came to borrow some of Sunny¡¯s clothes and pick up something I forgot. I¡¯m on a job right now, so I¡¯ll leave right away.¡±


    ¡°Job, huh? Did you land a decent job?¡±


    ¡°Not really. I¡¯m still scraping by with my courier service, just like before.¡±


    Sighing in lieu of a reply, his mother got up from her chair. She made a trip to the kitchen and came back with a teacup in her hand.


    Putting it down in front of Seymour, she suddenly asked, ¡°You¡¯re not smoking, are you?¡±


    Seymour smiled at her, one of the few people these days who was against smoking.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m glad to hear.¡± Even as she said this, she patted him down, frisking his thighs and breast pocket.


    There was no longer a cigarette pack for her to find. But had he still had one, Seymour would have likely given the same answer, knowing his mother would take the same course of action regardless.


    ¡°Are you coming home soon? Look, you¡¯ll need to get a decent job eventually. Why not give school another shot?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. If I feel like it, that is.¡±


    ¡°How about picking up baseball again? You¡¯re still growing, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    It was a conversation they had had the last time he had been here. And the time before. They had had this conversation over and over for many years now, and it had lost all meaning at this point. It was like the cry of a hill myna.


    Decent.


    It was his mother¡¯s favorite word. Each time Seymour heard her use it, he wondered how she could say something like that. It irritated him and was the reason he was unwilling to return.


    For a little while after that, until he hit the limit of his patience, Seymour spoke with his mother. But, once his patience ran out, he considered all conversation after that pointless and instead knocked back his black tea in one go. It was still so hot that it might have actually scalded his throat.


    ¡°Okay, there¡¯s something I came to pick up. I¡¯ll go see if it¡¯s in my room.¡±


    ¡°I see. I understand. Come to me if you need anything.¡±


    Seymour brought his teacup back to the kitchen before he left the living room. He was fairly sure the sweat running down his spine wasn¡¯t from the heat of the tea he had just knocked back.


    Knowing he¡¯d regret it if he let out a sigh, he swallowed it down and went to his room. The room had been left just as was during his teenage days, back when he still lived here.


    ¡°¡­¡­Now then, I wonder what I¡¯m going to take back with me.¡±


    Seymour stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, looking around at his school supplies, baseball bat, and various other possessions. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to sit down on the chair or bed. It wasn¡¯t his first time that he had brought the conversation with his mother to a close with the excuse of needing to pick up something. And since he had taken something back with him everytime he used the excuse, nothing of value to him remained in this room anymore.


    Looking around the room, he spotted a picture frame on his bedside table.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t the first time he had seen it. This picture frame had always been in this room, and he always felt a strong sense of relief when he saw it, though he would never admit it even to himself.


    He picked up the frame. A single picture had been placed into the crude, wooden frame Sunny had made in elementary school. It showed the child Seymour standing next to his mother with an embarrassed grin, a broadly smiling Sunny,¡­in his father¡¯s strong, military-uniformed arms.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡±


    Seymour jumped when a voice came from behind him. He had completely failed to notice the door opening. It seemed like he had been quite lost in thought.


    When he looked back, he found Lumi standing there. Inside this ordinary house, her presence was even more out of place. Seymour narrowed his eyes at her dream-like appearance. He put down the picture frame, face down, knowing that it would likely be upright again the next time he visited.


    ¡°Yo, something wrong? Where¡¯s Sunny?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Umm, she¡¯s currently packing the clothes for me. So she told me to come find you, Mr. Seymour.¡± Her voice was more hesitant than usual, and right now, in this situation, that had an especially strong impact.


    She kind of looks like she¡¯s trying to imitate a penguin waddle. I guess she must be nervous in a house full of strangers.


    ¡°I see. Still, I¡¯m just killing time here, too. Should we chat for a bit?¡±


    ¡°I suppose, we could¡­¡±


    ¡°I was wondering a while back, but we crossed a river some time ago¡­are you okay, what with being a vampire and all?¡±


    Vampires being unable to cross running water was one of the core limitations of vampires. On the way to his house, Seymour and Lumi had crossed a river.


    Lumi answered the question Seymour had only just remembered to ask, ¡°I hear vampires can cross rivers in coffins, you see?¡±


    ¡°Okay. In other words, my Essex registers as a driving coffin, huh? Not bad.¡±


    Even though he was laughing, Seymour was rather puzzled.


    How do I describe it? Lumi kinda sounds like she¡¯s talking about someone else¡¯s problems. It feels a little fake, like she¡¯s reading off a script.


    Or you might as well say, she¡¯s a vampire like they are in pictures. A vampire who jumped right out of a story. There¡¯s no doubt that Lumi Spike is a vampire, but the fact that such a stereotypical vampire has been living quietly in this world ©¤ even though she¡¯s right in front of my eyes ©¤ is somewhat unreal.


    Since Seymour was silent, it was Lumi who spoke up this time, ¡°Umm, is it okay for me to ask you something as well then?¡±


    Seymour braced himself for a difficult question upon hearing her surprisingly firm tone. Seeing the silent permission in his eyes, Lumi slowly breathed in.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, why are you a courier?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Because I transport things? I receive payment in exchange for delivering their orders?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I mean¡­¡± Lumi¡¯s fingers fiddled around with the hem of his jacket, clearly demonstrating her nervousness. ¡°Mr. Seymour, you¡¯re a human, and on top of that, you have a place to call home. And yet, to be something as dangerous as a courier¡­¡±


    The rest of her comment went unsaid, disappearing with a soft sigh. But, Seymour fully understood what she wanted to know.


    She was a vampire, had lost her home, and was being chased by the mafia. Things that quite naturally led her to her current circumstances. None of those applied to Seymour. He had a proper place to call home. He had a foundation on which he could rely. And as a human, there was nothing troublesome tied to his fate. If he felt like it, he could stop being a courier today, and nothing troublesome would happen because of it. If he had one of those decent jobs, he would have a steady income, be able to show his face in society, and he might be able to lead a much happier life than he did now.


    Or maybe what she really wanted to ask was: Why do people choose to be couriers, hitmen, and join the mafia? For a non-human such as her, it might be incomprehensible why such people existed among humans.


    Seymour could only provide her with an answer to the former question. He had no reason to hide it either. His motivations became cold, dispassionate words, and passed his lips, ¡°You see, I had a father. Though he¡¯s not around anymore.¡±


    ¡°Anymore¡­¡­?¡±


    ¡°There was a war. My Dad was a decent man, had a decent job, and was a decent soldier, so naturally he fought well on the frontlines too.¡±


    If he still had his cigarettes, he would have lit one up. But, his pocket was empty. Instead, Seymour tapped the picture frame next to his bed with a finger.


    ¡°And, well, he died. Despite how decent a man he was, his coffin, which I buried, was empty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in the past now. I don¡¯t need sympathy or anything like that. Even with my Dad dead, I wasn¡¯t troubled in any way. His military pension comfortably secured our livelihoods.¡± With a laugh, Seymour added, ¡°In fact, my life was actually somewhat easier.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why, yes, the reason I became a courier is©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    His father, who had lived a decent life, died miserably at the front. His life, which should have become difficult with his father¡¯s absence, became more comfortable instead. And even though he could only believe that something was very wrong with this, he had nowhere to vent his frustrations in this world where everything had been reduced to individualism. And when he realized this, Seymour Road lost all interest in going to school and getting a proper job, making it impossible for him to keep living in this house.


    After recapping all of this with a few words, Seymour¡¯s lips quirked, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤basically because money isn¡¯t everything in this world.¡±


    Even though that was one of the few things Seymour believed in, it felt rather shallow when he put it into words. Though it was something that he felt he ought to scream so loudly and passionately that his voice gave in, he had already buried all that passion with his father¡¯s coffin. Ever since then, his words were empty, regardless whether he told the truth or not.


    Seymour swallowed down the frustration that threatened to close off his throat with his smile.


    Just then they heard Sunny approach the room. Seymour scanned the room, knowing that he only had moments to decide what to bring back with him, and spotted something good.


    ¡°Oh, right. Are you interested in reading?¡±


    There were several books in a pile on his desk. He grabbed the pile, tucking the books under his arm before Lumi had a chance to reply.


    ¡°Bro! Everything¡¯s ready!¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. We¡¯re coming,¡± he yelled back, and then added to Lumi, ¡°Ms. Lumi, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Seymour tried to leave the room immediately, but before he could, his hand was suddenly grabbed.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    As if mirroring the situation from several hours ago, Lumi had grasped his hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He asked, looking into her eyes. They were trembling.


    He was well aware that he had spoken about boring, sentimental stuff. And in this city dominated by pragmatism, sentimentality was worth the least of all. If you ever exposed any naivete from your heart, you would only be met with scorn. Because of that, her slightly moist eyes touched an unexpectedly deep part of his heart.


    ¡°U-Umm! Mr. Seymour! Would you stop addressing me so formally?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Huh?¡±


    ¡°I mean, you can speak casually with me. You did save my life. That¡¯s why, please feel at ease around me, just like you are with your family!¡±


    If he was honest, he didn¡¯t really understand why Lumi had suggested this all of a sudden. But, the request was probably her response to Seymour¡¯s words from before. She chewed her thin, well-shaped lips. Noticing that, Seymour realized that he had to answer her quickly, and that he had no reason not to accept a girl¡¯s request to be more familiar with each other.


    ¡°Ah, then, let¡¯s go with that. Would Lumi be fine?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­.gh.¡±


    Even though it was something she had suggested herself, Lumi¡¯s eyes widened when her name was used directly. A scarlet tinge, like an overenthusiastic application of rouge, appeared on her flawless white skin.


    Restlessly looking around, she looked up to Seymour with all the caution of a small animal peeking out of its burrow.


    ¡°U-Umm, I think it¡¯s alright¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay, can you address me more casually as well then, Lumi?¡±


    ¡°W-With a man¡­t-that¡¯s impossible¡­¡­.¡±


    Seymour laughed loudly at Lumi¡¯s behavior, before Sunny¡¯s voice came again.


    ¡°Come on, bro! Can you hurry it up a bit!?¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 2.3

    There was drama that very night. After visiting Seymour¡¯s family, they had visited all sorts of places, buying almost all the necessities they needed for the time being.


    As the first shadows of dawn peeked through the window, telling the kinfolk of the night to scurry back to their burrows, Seymour felt that it was about time to head to bed. He mentioned it to Lumi as he headed up to his loft. Only to be confronted with her suddenly asking, ¡°But, Mr. Seymour, am I not a bother, occupying your bed?¡±


    He almost reflexively replied with ¡°You bet,¡± but managed to hold it back at the last moment. Waving his hand to dismiss her concerns, he made Lumi sit on the bed, and leaned against the nearby desk. Several tools were dislodged by his butt and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.


    Startled by the noise, Seymour jerked his shoulders together, and then, after calming down, answered, ¡°Having said that, there¡¯s only one bed in here either way.¡±


    ¡°What do you do when your friends come over to stay? You give me the impression that you have many friends, Mr. Seymour.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, well, if I have to choose between many or few, I¡¯d probably say that I have many friends.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t we just do what you usually do then!? I¡¯d feel guilty if I was the only one getting special treatment!¡±


    Lumi probably thought that there was at least one more bed stashed away somewhere, that could be lent out to friends who stayed over. Seymour corrected her misunderstanding as gently as possible.


    ¡°I do have friends that come to stay over, but look, they¡¯re all women, okay?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.? Regardless of their gender, everyone requires a bed to sleep on, right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how it works when a man stays over, but usually, you see, when a woman stays over, you don¡¯t really need two beds.¡± With a flick of his finger, he gestured at the small single bed, ¡°Man and woman are normally entwined on top of one.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.nh!¡±


    Apparently she understood what he was trying to tell her. In an instant, Lumi¡¯s cheeks were dyed crimson.


    Seymour tilted his head with a grin, ¡°So, you want to do it as usual?¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤That¡¯s indeceeent!¡±


    Seymour¡¯s face was immediately hit by a pillow. He guessed that the clattering and banging sounds he heard afterwards were from Lumi turning over the bed¡¯s mattress after imagining all the body fluids that had seeped into it over the years.


    By the time Seymour removed the pillow blocking his view, Lumi had wrapped herself in a blanket and curled up, looking like a bagworm. Seymour could vividly imagine Lumi¡¯s face scrunched in shame beneath the blanket.


    ¡°Thought so. Good night.¡±


    ¡°Have a good night! And sorry for throwing a pillow at you!¡±


    He smiled wryly at her honest apology, placed the pillow down where Lumi¡¯s head was probably situated, and lightly waved a hand despite knowing that she wouldn¡¯t see it.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    He woke groggily. For a moment Seymour felt as if he had returned to his teenage days. It was a feeling of nostalgia that came from sleeping with his knees squished up against him in the driver¡¯s seat of his Essex. His body remembered the time he had spent on the streets with just this small car as his home.


    His internal clock told him that he had slept for about half a day, making it evening now. Sitting up, he stretched and cracked his stiff neck. The discomfort wasn¡¯t so bad; it was proof that he was alive. And then he noticed that the coldness that usually accompanied getting out of bed was absent.


    There was a knock against the window. Looking outside, his vision was filled with hair that was more transparent than sunlight. Realizing that Lumi was peeking into the car, Seymour rolled down the window.


    ¡°Good morning. Did you sleep well?¡±


    There were two steaming cups of coffee in her hands, indicating that she¡¯d probably made use of the gas stove in the corner of the garage. Seymour extended his hand towards the mug she held out to him, though it was rather excessively slowly since he had a vague fear that the peaceful state he was in, which made the room feel like it had been heated just for him, would be dispelled once he woke up fully.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    However, Lumi apparently interpreted his silence to mean something entirely different. Noticing that she had bent forward towards the window, she quickly lifted her head, pressed the cup in Seymour¡¯s hand, and used her free hand to cover up her chest. With a faint, red tinge on her cheeks, she pulled up the collar of her loose sleepwear.


    ¡°¡­¡­Pervert. Things like that¡­are not allowed.¡±


    The last traces of his peaceful sleepy state leaving him, Seymour smiled bitterly, confident that he wasn¡¯t in the mood for that right now anyway.


    ¡°I was just about to see something stunning.¡±


    ¡°It would have been better for you to have remained asleep, Mr. Seymour, if you are going to say such things.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be a waste. After all, I wouldn¡¯t be able to see your lovely face that way.¡±


    Lumi was openly embarrassed by Seymour¡¯s flirtatious ramblings. He snorted at her innocence, but it was also true that it wasn¡¯t such a terrible feeling.


    Bringing the cup to his lips, he opened the car door, and stretched once more.


    ¡°Looks like my place has managed to avoid exploding overnight.¡±


    ¡°Ehh!?¡±


    ¡°I mean, it was quite possible. That¡¯s what it means to be chased by the mafia.¡±


    If he were to be honest, Seymour would need to admit that a part of him hadn¡¯t expected to wake up today.


    Being told this by an indifferent Seymour leaning on the car startled Lumi. Recalling the cup in her hand just as she was about to start gesturing, Lumi stop herself just in time.


    ¡°B-But Mr. Seymour, you didn¡¯t mention a word of any of this yesterday!¡±


    ¡°Well, the probability of it happening was fairly low. First of all, we don¡¯t know if the other side is even aware of me, right?¡±


    They might have noticed that someone had taken Lumi Spike away, but it wasn¡¯t clear as of yet whether they had identified Seymour Road as that person. The only one who definitely knew about Seymour¡¯s involvement was the wolf-like man, but he had allowed Lumi to get away. It was hard to believe that he¡¯d spill the beans about a courier.


    ¡°Umm, low probability means¡­?¡±


    ¡°The mafia bombs some place every day. The police tolerate that. However, the bombings have been limited to businesses that don¡¯t belong to familia ©¤©¤ trade associations created by the mafia.¡±


    Nominal trade associations had been set up by the mafia ¨C the protection money, which was collected as a membership fee for the trade association, was a source of income for the mafia.


    Seymour raised a finger after noticing that Lumi still looked confused, ¡°¡ºThe shop was blown up because it didn¡¯t belong to a trade association¡». The police can look the other way on this. If you want to know why, it¡¯s because the police don¡¯t need to worry about getting bombed since there¡¯s no familia for them to join. But, ¡ºA private home was blown up because it sheltered someone being chased¡». This is something they can¡¯t look the other way on.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Because then it¡¯s possible that they themselves might get blown up as well?¡±


    ¡°You got it. If bombings start happening due to more and more reasons, the police can no longer shrug it off as someone else¡¯s problem. That¡¯s how this works. In that case, the police would put the screws to the mafia, and the mafia doesn¡¯t want that to happen.¡±


    He dramatically thrust a finger in her face 1 , then leaned back and sipped on his coffee. It tasted pretty good for the cheap stuff, a sign of how carefully it had been brewed.


    ¡°And at present there aren¡¯t any trade associations for couriers in existence. Therefore, blowing up an ordinary person like me, at least on paper, is a huge risk for the mafia.


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤but then again, everything comes down to weighing the advantages and disadvantages.¡±


    The question is why the mafia is chasing Lumi. If the benefits of obtaining her exceed the time and effort of dealing with the aftermath and having some friction with the police, the pursuers might boldly opt for a bombing in the end. Or rather, they should have already chosen that option. In other words, it looks like Lumi¡¯s value to them isn¡¯t all that high,


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Hmm, wait?¡±


    The explosion from the day before yesterday suddenly came to mind. The destroyed remains of that private residence lay clearly before his mind¡¯s eye. It didn¡¯t look like a place of business. It was pretty obviously a private residence.


    The owner of that house was a merchant who did not join a trade association? The destruction of the house itself was part of their objective? Did the need to pursue Lumi change in a short period of time?


    Several possibilities crossed his mind, but none of them seemed to jump out as the answer. He lacked too much information to even make an educated guess.


    ¡°¡­Mr. Seymour?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. For now, let¡¯s get ready to leave once the sun goes down. I¡¯ve still got a job to do.¡±


    The income of one courier job couldn¡¯t be called generous by any standard. It¡¯s often said that there¡¯s no leisure for the poor. Even if I were to take a break from my job, I¡¯d still need to coordinate it with my frequent customers.


    ¡°While I¡¯m working¡­¡­well, I suppose I¡¯ll have you stay at the Holiday. It¡¯s a small, dirty, and rather smelly diner, but it¡¯s safer than being with me.¡±


    In response, Lumi sighed lightly, ¡°A-.¡±


    She lightly lifted a hand, but lowered it right away. Seymour was pretty sure he knew what she was about to say anyway. She was probably worried about being left behind in an unfamiliar place while Seymour went off to another unknown place.


    However, he ignored her feelings on this. Even if she were to be tormented by unbearable feelings of loneliness, Seymour would still head out for work without hesitation. Loneliness was an illness, but no doctor could cure it. On top of that, he couldn¡¯t bring Lumi along with him; confidentiality being key to his line of work.


    Seymour yawned as he thought it all through. ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤By the way, Lumi, are you hungry?¡±


    Hearing the question, she hid the dejection in her eyes with a smile, ¡°It¡¯s okay. Vampires don¡¯t need much food to sustain themselves.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Which reminds me, I¡¯ve never heard you talking about wanting to suck blood or anything like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s not like I have to drink every day.¡± Fiddling with the cup in her hands, Lumi added, ¡°Besides, I can reduce the amount of blood I need if I eat normal meals.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t feel an urge to¡­suck blood?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­let¡¯s see, how do I say this¡­to suck blood, I have to touch and press my lips against someone¡¯s body, so, umm¡­¡± She subconsciously lowered her eyes, her expression reminding him of the first time they met. ¡°How do I put it¡­? These kinds of things¡­they feel really vampiric, don¡¯t they¡­?¡±


    ¡°¡­Do you hate these things?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I mean, my mother was a vampire, too.¡±


    Lumi¡¯s earlier replies hadn¡¯t been fluent. But, there was a pointless fluency to her words just now, as if to emphasize that she had prepared this answer in advance.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Unfortunately, the vocabulary of a courier didn¡¯t include any convenient responsesfor times like these. Not to mention that Seymour wasn¡¯t actually sitting in his car, but was just plain old Seymour Road right now.


    That¡¯s probably why.


    Noticing his speechlessness, a fleeting smile crossed Lumi¡¯s lips, ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡­hate them.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    A merry humming came from the back seat and reached Seymour¡¯s ears. He looked into the rear-view mirror, and cast a smile at Lumi even as he idly thought that she was reflected awfully clearly in the mirror for a vampire.


    ¡°You like them? I was worried what you¡¯d think since they¡¯re old and a bit revealing.¡±


    Noticing him staring, Lumi quickly stopped rocking her legs in time with her humming.


    ¡°No, absolutely not! I can¡¯t even express how thankful I am to receive such cute clothes!¡±


    Lumi¡¯s outfit was drastically different to what she had been wearing a while ago. Her extremely long hair had been parted into two and held with ribbons, and her skirt was now knee-length. That alone had changed the entire impression she exuded from something old-fashioned and anachronistic to something hip and modern.


    ¡°These blue ribbons are truly wonderful¡­my mother used to buy a lot of blue clothes for me, saying that blue suited me. These remind me of her.¡± Lumi stroked her hair as she said that.


    None of the strong, complex emotions she had shown earlier towards the word ¡°Vampire¡± could be seen now. Seymour wasn¡¯t sure whether she was hiding it well, or whether it wasn¡¯t much of a problem to begin with.


    Still, Seymour smiled wryly, the shirt¡¯s collar looks way loose at the base of her neck, and those thick tights only make her legs look all the more too thin. It¡¯s almost unreal how slender they are.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear that. For the time being, since you¡¯re wearing all these, put on the cap as well. Just in case, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    Sincerely nodding at each and every little thing, Lumi put the newsboy cap on her head. The cap would do little to stop her pretty face, silver hair, and golden eyes from drawing the looks of others, but Seymour believed that it was still better than doing nothing.


    Just like that, they arrived at the Holiday. Seymour beckoned Lumi over when they got out of the car, pulling her away as she looked up at the unfamiliar building with keen interest. He knocked against the thin metal door, hearing the clerk shout, ¡°Happy!¡±


    ¡°Holiday.¡±


    A cipher. At least, on the surface.


    The Holiday was a diner that served alcoholic drinks, technically violating the laws. It had been good practice to have ciphers that needed to be answered before entry was granted, though it had lost most of its purpose nowadays.


    Seymour pushed open the door, which wasn¡¯t even locked to begin with, and entered the diner. Lumi followed him nervously. Her fingers were fisted around the trailing edge of his cloak. Feeling like a mother bird leading around its chick, Seymour shook his head. He might have laughed back home, but here Seymour was no more than a simple courier. A fully fledged courier did not thoughtlessly laugh at such things.


    The instant Lumi entered the diner, there was a multitude of whistles, several of which were low while others were loud and clear, directed at them. The tug of her hold on his jacket became a little stronger in response.


    Just as usual, Seymour headed to his seat, second to furthest in, and lightly pulled back Lumi, who tried to sit on the furthest seat, and made her sit on his right side. That was the rule in this place.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Seymour stretched on his seat, ¡°Madela! How¡¯s business going today?¡±


    The usual old woman sitting on her usual chair answered without looking up from the crossword puzzle she was doing, ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°I see! Thank you!¡±


    The clerk, who was standing behind the counter like a decoration, revealed a teasing smile.


    ¡°Welcome. Your companion is quite the looker, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Coffee, please. As hot as possible. What about you, Lumi?¡±


    ¡°P-Please give me the same.¡±


    ¡°¡ºPlease¡»! To think that this word could still be heard in this city!¡± The clerk immediately pushed two big cups of coffee towards them, accompanied by exaggerated gestures.


    Seymour guessed that she had prepared them the moment they entered the diner.


    ¡°So, were there any calls for me while I was out?¡±


    ¡°There were several, but most of them expired when you didn¡¯t take them yesterday. There¡¯s just one case still open. They called a little while ago, but didn¡¯t give any details. If you feel like accepting it, umm, I think you¡¯ve got to wait another five minutes? They were quite impatient, and said they¡¯d come over to ask you in person, so it would probably be better for you to wait in front of our diner?¡±


    As the clerk nonchalantly told him this, Seymour sighed lightly.


    I wish she¡¯d have told me before taking my order, if she knew all that.


    Looking down at his coffee and then at Lumi who had frozen after sipping a mouthful of hers, he silently pushed his cup towards her.


    I¡¯m pretty sure the sweat on her forehead isn¡¯t because of the coffee¡¯s temperature.


    Seymour took out some small change, counted the coins, and placed them on the counter.


    ¡°Oh, right. Please allow this girl here to stay until I come back.¡±


    ¡°Does this place look like a daycare to you?¡±


    ¡°No, I know. It¡¯s a diner, right? Of your place.¡±


    Now that Seymour had indifferently pointed it out, it was now the clerk¡¯s turn to sigh. In other words, Lumi¡¯s safety here was as sure a thing as getting the answer, ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say,¡± when you asked Madela how business was going.


    Of course safety couldn¡¯t be guaranteed if something like a mafia shoot-out took place here, but there was next to no need to worry about vicious pick-up artists or kidnappings of any sort in this diner.


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°I leave her in your care.¡± Seymour stood up.


    He reached for the coat he had put down when he sat down, but Lumi beat him to it, holding it up. He was about to tell her to stay seated, but faced with the abandoned puppy look, he sighed in his mind. Seymour headed out the store, judging that it wouldn¡¯t be a problem for her to see him off, at least.


    As they stepped out onto the street, Seymour spotted a woman running their way. He asked her, ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    The middle-aged client, who had just reached them, scrutinized him doubtfully. She exhaled white clouds as she gasped for breath, trying to recover from the trip she had apparently made on foot, in the absence of a car.


    Seymour was fully aware that he looked like an unreliable teenager, despite his best efforts, and as such felt somewhat irritated at having that reality thrust in face like this.


    ¡°¡­Is it true that you¡¯ll definitely deliver to any place?¡±


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s feasible, yes. It¡¯s a fact that I haven¡¯t failed a single delivery to this day.¡±


    The client wavered for a bit, but lost to her own impatience, retrieving a small package from her bag.


    ¡°I¡¯d like you to deliver¡­¡­.this to my nephew. As fast as possible.¡±


    ¡°Where can I find your nephew? Also, it will make the delivery easier if you have a photo of your nephew.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Mr. Seymour, here.¡±


    Since Lumi was holding his coat out to him, Seymour put his arms through the sleeves. He was just going to get in the car anyway, but he¡¯d feel bad if he rebuffed her polite consideration. Seymour figured that this would be a regular delivery job, but the client¡¯s next words resulted in his eyes widening in shock.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to get on the next ship, and head back to his hometown.¡±


    ¡°Hah!?¡±


    ¡°My nephew, who had been overseas, came back to visit me after all this time, but I completely forgot to give him his souvenir, and then, since I heard that you¡¯d reliably be able to deliver anywhere, I©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Which harbor is it!? When is the ship going to depart!?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the harbor in the upper area. The San Marina. It¡¯s going to depart¡­¡­in ten minutes.¡±


    Seymour pulled up his mental map of the area as he looked down at his wristwatch. At the same time, he recalled the typical traffic situation on the streets around this time of the day. His imaginary Essex raced through the city in the blink of an eye.


    It was quite clear why the woman had come to Seymour. It was an impossible time frame even by car, to say nothing of the fact that she was on foot. You could even say that this woman was lucky to have coincidentally found Seymour at the Holiday at this time.


    She took Seymour¡¯s hand, and asked, ¡°¡­¡­¡­Is it going to make it?¡±


    All things considered, this was going to be a reckless endeavor. Depending on the circumstances, Seymour might get arrested by the police, or worse, his car might get damaged.


    At a glance, the middle-aged woman didn¡¯t look particularly rich. In other words, Seymour didn¡¯t have much hope of receiving substantial compensation for this. As a courier, Seymour reserved the right to refuse any work that did not appear to be profitable.


    Just as Seymour plastered a faint smile on his face, about to speak,


    ¡°¡­¡­If I miss this chance, who knows how many years it¡¯ll be before I meet him again.¡±


    the whispered comment stopped his rejection in his throat.


    These weren¡¯t consciously voiced words, much less an attempt to gain his sympathy. They had merely slipped out as her heart ached with the thought. Her lips were tightly pursed and she was chewing the inside of her cheek. He had barely been able to make out her mumbled words.


    ¡°¡­¡­ Understood. I accept. It will be delivered on time.¡±


    ¡°R-Really!? Umm, sorry for troubling you with such an unreasonable©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Nevermind that. Just hurry and pass me the photo and the present. I¡¯ll leave rig©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Mr. Seymour!¡± Lumi interrupted Seymour who had interrupted his client.


    At the same time, Lumi shoved him from behind, so hard he was actually sent tumbling instead of just staggering forward.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 3 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 2.4

    Before he could ask what was going on, his question was answered by a massive shadow looming over him. A huge slab of metal crashed into the pavement where Seymour stood a moment ago. It was part of a water tank that had apparently been installed on the roof of the multi-storey building.


    It was followed by a thunderous noise, like a gong being hit, then the sound of splashing water. The tank had bounced, cracking the road before it landed in its final resting place.


    The client screamed.


    Seymour caught sight of the tank¡¯s base. There was a clean cut where the base had broken. It was pretty obvious that the tank had been deliberately dropped rather than failing over time. No, ¡ºsomeone¡» had committed a crime here.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour!¡± Lumi yelled once more.


    Her voice, which accompanied her body as it collided with him again, was filled with even greater urgency than before. This time, Seymour immediately knew why.


    After all, a dazzling headlight was hurtling down the road towards them, showing no signs of slowing down.


    A second mafia attack.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Now of all times!?¡± Seymour spat out, snatching the photo and the package from the woman.


    Not even pausing to check the heavy weight in his hands, he left his client in the dust, running off towards his car. Fortunately the client had included a note with the ship¡¯s details. With this he wouldn¡¯t lose his way and end up lost in the big harbour.


    ¡°I¡¯ve accepted the request! We¡¯ll talk about the reward later!¡±


    ¡°Eh, eehh!?¡±


    ¡°Okay, I gotta go¡­¡­also.¡±


    Leaving Lumi at the Holiday was no longer an option. Making that decision in a split second, Seymour tossed Lumi into the back seat.


    ¡°Hold on tight, got it!?¡±


    ¡°O-Okay!¡±


    Lumi keeping her wits about her even as the situation changed by the second was already a big help to Seymour. He jumped into the driver¡¯s seat and pulled the choke lever as the headlights drew ever closer, ¡°Start, start, hurry up and start¡­¡­.!¡±


    It should be alright. It¡¯s a pretty normal day in winter, and we only spent a short while in the Holiday, the engine should still be warmed up from the trip over here. The conditions aren¡¯t bad. It¡¯s just that if the engine doesn¡¯t start now, that car is going to t-bone us.


    His breath caught in his throat, he turned the key with a jerk. The car rumbled to life under him.


    ¡°Yeees, it started!¡±


    Stomping on the accelerator, he roughly handled the clutch. His Essex jolted like it had been kicked in the pants and moved out of the way just before the pursuing red Essex came crashing through. It grazed the tail of Seymour¡¯s car as he hiked up the speed.


    While putting on his gloves with the help of his mouth, Seymour shouted rather unintelligibly, ¡°Sorry, I might not be very careful with my driving today!¡±


    ¡°Just for the record, your driving wasn¡¯t all that careful last time either, okay!?¡± Lumi retorted even as she tumbled in the back seat.


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Either way, we¡¯re in a pretty bad situation. It¡¯s still early in the evening, meaning the roads are going to be packed. And, there¡¯s only one pursuer today. Last time they had five cars, this time there¡¯s only one. Clearly this means that the driver this time around is someone skilled. The car itself is also an Essex. Although they¡¯re different models, they¡¯re not too different performance-wise, so we can¡¯t rely on that to lose him.


    In addition, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Nine minutes left!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to do the delivery!?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask the obvious!¡±


    If I slow down even a little bit, that car is going to plow right into us. Or rather, despite driving an Essex just like us, he¡¯s already bumped us several times from behind.


    ¡°Why is there a slight difference in speed even though we¡¯re both driving the same car¡­bah, now I get it!¡±


    Even as he weaved through the traffic at breakneck speeds, Seymour looked into the rear-view mirror.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s because we¡¯ve got an additional 50 kg handicap.¡±


    ¡°Handicap¡­wait, you¡¯re talking about me!? I don¡¯t even weigh 50 kg!¡±


    ¡°Hoh, how much then?¡±


    ¡°Forty¡­¡­.guh, I¡¯m not telling you!¡±


    ¡®What a nice reaction.


    Seymour¡¯s mind, which had been frantically scrambling to keep up with the situation, somehow managed to settle down.


    Anyway, nothing will be resolved until we can lose our tail. At this rate, we¡¯ll either have a terrible accident on the road, or we¡¯ll get run over the second we stop at our destination. Having said that, the driver of the car behind us is honestly pretty skilled.


    He had been changing lanes constantly for a while now, but even though he made sure to weave at the last possible moment he hadn¡¯t managed to put enough distance between the two cars to do anything.


    Seymour and his pursuer left a trail of bleating car horns as they raced onwards.


    ¡°Now then, I wonder what I should do¡­uh-oh!¡±


    They were approaching a crossroad. Knowing that the pursuer had his eyes trained on them, Seymour decided to pull a feint. He shifted the wheel to imply that he was turning right before whirling the steering wheel to the left all of a sudden.


    A swift turn. Even if the pursuer noticed the fake, they weren¡¯t able to react as quickly and the pursuing car fell about a car¡¯s length behind them.


    The road Seymour chose had two lanes. Seymour took in the other two cars on the road immediately. On the left lane was a black Ford. A white Dodge 4 was slightly ahead of the Ford on the right lane. Seymour narrowed his eyes, realizing that this was a great chance.


    He sped up, passing the Ford on the right. Then he changed lanes, overtook the Dodge on the left, and immediately changed the lane once more, so closely that he could almost feel the two cars brush past each other. The instant his Essex was in front of the Dodge, he stepped on the brake.


    ¡°Kyaa!?¡± Lumi screamed in the back.


    Her head was thrown forward, probably giving her killer whiplash. Seymour could only spare her a brief flash of apology in a corner of his mind. Meanwhile, a loud beeep sounded from behind them. The Dodge 4, which had almost crashed into the back of their Essex had reflexively braked in panic.


    After confirming that the Dodge had decelerated sufficiently, Seymour sped up again.


    ¡°Great, this should settle it.¡±


    Seymour had managed to maneuver the two cars so that they were now almost parallel. With this, the two cars had effectively blocked off the road. There was plenty of traffic in the oncoming lanes too, it would be impossible to overtake them by driving counter to the traffic.


    Fortunately, the road ahead of them was a long straight. All they needed to leave the pursuer in the dust was to accelerate©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°Wait¡­the fuck!?¡± Seymour, who was just about to smoothly increase his speed, was forced to look back at the sound of an engine revving behind him.


    He watched in disbelief as the pursuing Essex pulled a hoon. Glancing off the curb, the pursuer had lifted the entire right side of the car off the road to drive on the narrow sidewalk with just two wheels. Moving surprisingly quickly considering he only had two tires on the ground, the pursuing Essex passed the wall Seymour had created, and returned to the regular road.


    In the next moment, the pursuer tauntingly revved his engine.


    ¡°¡­¡­No way! Give me a fucking break!¡±


    Seymour¡¯s eyes met with the other driver through his mirror. The man wore wine red glasses, and a hat, despite being inside a car. Seymour felt a kind of raw malice from the man, even as the revving conveyed the man¡¯s excitement.


    He clicked his tongue. Seymour suppressed the childish urge to give tit-for-tat welling up in his heart. Keeping as much distance between himself and the pursuer as he could, he dodged the normal cars in his way, and drove on and on.


    Five minutes left.


    If we keep going like this, we should barely make it.


    Seymour made that overly optimistic call as the harbor came in sight in the distance. At this rate they would drive straight into the harbor.


    But, even though you could call it a harbor, it was a general term for a huge area of water, encompassing a coastal section, brackish waters, and even a part of the river. According to the note on the package, they¡¯d meet the river if they continued heading straight like this. If they went upstream from there, they were supposed to be able to find the ship fairly easily.


    We¡¯re going to pull up to the ship right before its departure, and throw the package onto it without stopping. After that I need to come up with some way to give our pursuer the slip, but I¡¯ll have the whole city to figure it out.


    But, his plans were immediately proven to be wishful thinking.


    A steam whistle shook the air.


    In the distance, Seymour could see a ship slowly pulling away. The name carved onto its hull was San Marina. Even though there should still be five minutes before its departure, the ship had already started moving.


    ¡°Shit! They¡¯re way too strict on the time!¡±


    ¡°I-Is there any way I can help you¡­?¡± Lumi asked, having managed to steady herself on the backseat.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m busy here, so could you curse at that damn, unpunctual ship for me!?¡±


    ¡°Hueh? Ah, okay! Stuuupid! Stuuupid! Idiooot!¡±


    ¡°Man, what a limited vocabulary you¡¯ve got!¡±


    What a downer. Even an elementary student would know some harsher words.


    Shooting a bitter smile at Lumi, who was desperately hurling insults at the ship in her very own way, Seymour turned the car to the right. Instead of driving upstream, he drove down to the road following the river, trying to run next to the moving ship.


    Considering the distance, it¡¯d be impossible to throw the package all the way to the ship from this road. But, in a few minutes the ship would probably exit the river, heading out to the open sea. Once that happened, it¡¯d truly be impossible to do anything with a car that needed solid ground to run on.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got one more chance©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He could see a big bridge ahead. An enormous, arched bridge spanning the port, built to cut down the time it took to circumvent the huge harbor. Inevitably, all the ships in the harbor would need to pass under that bridge.


    Even as he plotted their route in his head, Seymour was fervently honking his car horn. The people walking through the port turned towards the noisy sound, and at the same time Seymour could pick up a number of people looking their way from the ship.


    ¡°Lumi, look at the photo! The photo! Do you see that person over there!?¡±


    He heard Lumi checking the package they were given by the client. The harbor street was straight, but there were many people walking around, making it impossible for Seymour to take his eyes off the road.


    A few seconds later, Lumi happily announced, ¡°He¡¯s there! He¡¯s looking our way!¡±


    ¡°Alrighty! In that case©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    We¡¯ll drive ahead, all the way up the bridge, and throw the package down at the ship when it passes below. It¡¯s a pretty rough delivery, but at least the goods will get where they need to be.


    But, just as he was thinking this, Seymour¡¯s car was rammed from behind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤!?¡±


    ¡°Kyaaa!?¡±


    It was their pursuer. Without any regard for his own car, he was trying to ram them off the road.


    Seymour clicked his tongue. Then he clicked it again.


    This is bad. If we¡¯re going to throw the package off the bridge onto the ship, car and ship have to pass the bridge at the exact same time, or we have to stop the car on the bridge to wait for the ship to pass underneath.


    ¡°But I can¡¯t take my foot off the accelerator in this situation¡­¡­¡±


    If we stop, only death awaits us. And even if I don¡¯t stop, if I even drop our speed our pursuer is going to ram us until my car is a wreck.


    Being chased by a driver skilled enough to give him a run for his money, it was beyond Seymour¡¯s ability to drive across the bridge at top speed while also coordinating his movements with the ship.


    Unconsciously his fist hit the steering wheel with a thud.


    ¡°Damn it! What should I do? Fuck! If we miss the bridge, we won¡¯t get another chance to get close to the ship. Should we throw it at the ship from here? No, it¡¯d be a bad idea to not stop the car for the throw. Isn¡¯t there something else we can do©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    You could give up on it.


    A voice whispered in a corner of Seymour¡¯s mind. After all, it was just a single souvenir. Moreover, it wasn¡¯t a high paying job either. And it wasn¡¯t like his guarantee to deliver the goods once the request was accepted was anything more than his own personal standard.


    Even the rule was simply something he had decided himself. It might actually be easier for him if he gave up here. It wasn¡¯t as if people would stop asking Seymour to deliver things over one fairly unreasonable job.


    But.


    There¡¯s a but. And that just can¡¯t be allowed.


    After his father¡¯s death, Seymour had left the home with no goals or aspirations. As such, when he started out as a sham courier, the simple rule of ¡ºdelivering¡» had quickly been established within himself. It was a meaningless rule, but he decided to keep to it. Because if he didn¡¯t, then he would truly have nothing to strive for.


    Just as every car would be lost without the guidance of the traffic laws, Seymour couldn¡¯t exist as Seymour if he couldn¡¯t maintain the rule of delivering. For Seymour Road to continue living, a firm rule, even if it was nonsense, was indispensable. Being a courier defined the existence of Seymour, and if he couldn¡¯t maintain that identity, his existence would become worthless.


    Chewing on his lip, Seymour frantically reviewed his options while time continued to relentlessly tick on.


    ¡°What should I do? What should I do? What should I do©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤?¡±


    ¡°Umm, Mr. Seymour?¡±


    Suddenly, a voice came from behind him, one that was unexpectedly close. Lumi was holding onto the driver¡¯s seat, and had leaned forward to talk to him. The air around her remained perfectly odorless, like an inviolable sanctuary, even though the scent of the sea hung heavy in the air here. Its cleanness streamed into Seymour¡¯s head, allowing him to regain some of his composure.


    Seymour met her eyes in the rear view mirror, silently urging her to speak, so she cautiously suggested, ¡°This is coming from someone who knows absolutely nothing about this, but for argument¡¯s sake, and I really mean it just as an example, if you drove off the bridge with no thought for the landing, would you be able to deliver the package? Would you be able to hand it over?¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Huh?¡±


    Even as he was outwardly stupefied, the calm part of his mind was already considering her suggestion.


    We¡¯ll drive the car off the bridge sideways. In other words, instead of waiting for the ship to pass underneath the bridge, we¡¯ll try to fly over it. A ship headed for the ocean, and a car flying through the air towards that ship. At most, we¡¯d make about ten meters. It¡¯d give us a few extra seconds. That¡¯s all it would get us.


    But, having to stop completely to wait for the instant the ship passes beneath the bridge versus flying through the air towards it, those are two completely different beasts when it comes to timing.


    ¡°In that case¡­¡­it¡¯s probably possible.¡±


    However, no matter what happened, this would all end in a fall. As might be expected, Seymour would really like to avoid having his Essex end up in a watery grave. If he weighed his Essex and his belief inside his mind, his belief would win by a tiny margin, but that wasn¡¯t enough to sway him completely. Such was his current mental state.


    ¡°¡­¡­Mr. Seymour.¡± For some reason, Lumi twisted her body, and opened the window. While rolling up her sleeves, she swallowed and then said, ¡°Could you trust me and drive off the bridge?¡±


    He hesitated for less than a second.


    ¡°Very well, bring it on!¡±


    After confirming the ship¡¯s location in his periphery, he immediately started to shake the wheel, zigzagging down the road like a tire had blown. He did this to adjust their speed to cross the bridge at the right time, but to the guy with the wine-red glasses it would look like they were trying to literally shake their tail, or trying some kind of maneuver to reverse their positions. Either way, he dropped his speed, following them closely without mimicking their movements.


    It¡¯s damn annoying how he reacts so calmly to each and every little thing. But, these extra few seconds he¡¯s allowed us are very welcome.


    Carefully judging the timing, Seymour simulated how they would follow the street up to the bridge over and over.


    Now.


    He accelerated. He straightened out the car and raced down the road before turning left towards the huge arched bridge.


    When we start going uphill, our weight handicap is going to be clear as day, but well, whatever.


    He checked the vicinity. There were almost no cars on the bridge. He checked the ship¡¯s location.


    Right on. We¡¯ll be perfect on time, theoretically. In other words, the rest depends on my resolve.


    But, that was something he had done a while ago.


    ¡°Okay, time to go all in©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    As they drew closer to the highest point of the bridge, he kicked down on the clutch. His rear wheels spinning wildly, he drifted, whirling around.


    Their pursuer assumed that Seymour was going to do a U-turn at this point. Because of this, he deliberately passed the point where Seymour had started to drift, and also spun 180¡ã a little further down the road. He had no need to be impatient, and his logic probably ran along the lines of taking Seymour¡¯s back once again to continue the attack. But, what he actually witnessed after finishing his turn was Seymour¡¯s Essex turning 270¡ã, the car itself ending up perpendicular to the bridge.


    Seymour floored it.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Go!¡±


    The tires shrieked. Seymour clenched his teeth, and the Essex smashed through the fence on the bridge. And then, squarely facing the ship, the car was airborne.


    Seymour¡¯s intestines felt an unstable, floating sensation.


    Is this how it feels to be liberated? To be free?


    Those concepts crossed his mind. Simultaneously Seymour grabbed the package with a hand.


    ¡°I have a delivery©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤y for you!¡± He threw the package through the window as he yelled.


    The package drew a neat arc in the air, one that Seymour was fairly sure would end with it falling onto the ship.


    Yep, fall. They were caught by gravity. Of course it was absolute bullshit, but Seymour imagined their current, rapid fall as the result of the car being hit by a huge, invisible fly swatter. The wintery night sea before him was pitch black; it gave him the impression of a ravine with no bottom. Seymour thought about the car getting totally wrecked, or the two of them drowning.


    And yet, it didn¡¯t feel all that bad. There was the joyous feeling of having completed the request, and besides, he had the vague feeling it would all turn out alright.


    In short, Seymour believed.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Please hold on tightly, got it?¡±


    In the slow motion of the moment, Lumi¡¯s calm voice was as clear as a bell. With that warning, she braced herself against the Essex. With both her feet planted on the floor, she pressed her right hand against the ceiling, and then suddenly©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤thrust her left hand out of the window.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤gh!?¡±


    A violent jerk immediately followed. An invisible, mighty force struck the Essex sideways. It was like suddenly being caught in a tornado, or being run over by an invisible truck. The car¡¯s frame creaked, though Seymour¡¯s body creaked louder. Despite being prepared for some kind of impact, Seymour¡¯s forehead still slammed into the wheel.


    Suddenly he had a flashback. Lumi¡¯s hand as he tried to grab it. His wristwatch being blown away by the repulsive force.


    A lightheadedness, like there wasn¡¯t any blood left in his body. All the blood drained from his face. And amidst all that, he was vaguely aware of the car flying sideways. Flying, or rather, being blown away.


    Even as his vision spun, his body still moved instinctively. That is to say, the instant he felt the sensation of the car landing, camouflaged in the impact, he turned the wheel, and stepped on the accelerator.


    By the time he came to his senses, as if he had briefly blacked out, Seymour found himself on the road next to the harbor. Not in the water, or atop the arched bridge. The feeling of being blown away wreaked awful havoc in his stomach. Pitch black tire marks littered the road.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He hadn¡¯t recovered from the shock. His consciousness was still unfocused and hazy. But, his body still remembered that they needed to move. Even when he was startled by the weird sounds the car was making, his hands remained steady on the wheel.


    Everywhere they looked they received looks of mute amazement back. The owner of the red Essex had remained atop the bridge, likely the same expression on his face. Imagining the eyes hidden behind the glasses wide with shock ¨C whether it was true or not ¨C made Seymour feel really good.


    Driving onwards, he completely shook their pursuer off. Turning several more corners to make sure their pursuer definitely couldn¡¯t find them again, Seymour breathed out deeply.


    With this much of a distance between us, it should be easy to get away. This definitely isn¡¯t going to be the last attack, but at least we should be safe for the time being.


    The black Essex, which had already melted into the city¡¯s scenery, leisurely moved on.


    Seymour¡¯s voice softly broke the silence that had oppressively filled the car. He spoke cautiously, like he was crossing a tightrope, making sure there wasn¡¯t even a hint of malice in his tone..


    ¡°¡­¡­Just now, that was¡­?¡±


    Lumi opened her mouth, and closed it again. As if she had suddenly remembered that she had left the window open, she turned the handle in a hurry. Then, after positioning herself like a lady again, she awkwardly showed Seymour her palm, still trembling like it was numb.


    ¡°Umm, it¡¯s because I¡¯m a vampire.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    One of the most common traits of a vampire. The most popular one right after the weakness against sunlight and bloodsucking.


    Thinking back on it now, that was a harbor with brackish water. Or, more specifically, running water.


    Back there, Lumi Spike ©¤©¤©¤©¤ a vampire had thrust her hand out of the window. A bare hand outside the confines of a car.


    ¡°¡­¡­Vampires can¡¯t cross flowing water?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Yes.¡±


    Once more, silence.


    This time, however, it was a totally different sort of silence. Seymour and Lumi struggled desperately to maintain serious expressions; expressions that would be appropriate considering that they had just survived an attack.


    After all, no, it¡¯s completely unbelievable. Sure, I¡¯ve heard the stories, and her arm did get repelled that other time, but I definitely never thought that weakness was so powerful that it could blow the entire car away with us.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Kuku!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Ahaha!¡±


    They broke at the same time, helpless laughter bubbling out of them. The sweet feeling of completing the request and being liberated from their tension, and above all, the fact that they had accomplished all that with just the two of them filled them with elation.


    In no time, the loud laughter of two people filled the car.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 4 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 2.5

    He had a dream. In that dream Seymour was younger than now, more stupid than now, and had a niggling feeling that he might actually be a hopeless fool that was beyond all help.


    And, back then, he regarded his car as his home.


    After his father died, he got into his car and just drove, never returning to his family home. He lived his life not going home. As such, it was possible that he had merely thought of his car as home, when in reality he had just been running away from home for several months.


    But, because he eventually ended up renting the garage he lived in right now, he actually did manage to leave home for good, though he did visit occasionally.


    And if you were to wonder what exactly Seymour was doing spending all that time in his car, the answer would be: he observed the city.


    He and his car would drift through the city all day long, stopping on random street corners so that he could just watch people. Well, it was a little more proactive than simply watching, but it wasn¡¯t like he was actively searching for something either. Yes, it was a bit like trying to read a difficult book.


    And in a way, he was trying to read something.


    He hoped that something was written somewhere in this world. For example, how to come to terms with the death of his father, and how irrational it had been. He believed that there had to be something. That the answer was written somewhere, and he simply couldn¡¯t read it because his eyes, his head, or both weren¡¯t up to par.


    Otherwise, it¡¯d be weird. After all, the world had just been through a war, and a tremendous number of lives had been lost on the battlefields. The sorrow collectively felt by the city should be as if Seymour¡¯s own sorrow had been multiplied by the number of stars in the sky.


    And yet, against all expectations, people glorified their everyday lives and appeared, by all accounts, to be happy. People walked the streets, had casual chats in the shade, and enjoyed their food in restaurants. Because of that, he believed that they must have been taught somewhere ©¤ maybe in one of the school classes that Seymour had slept through, or maybe not ©¤ what to do in times like these.


    Of course, he was well aware that this wasn¡¯t true. And although he should know better, he had no intention to stop his life on the road. Even though he understood it intellectually, emotionally he just couldn¡¯t make sense of it.


    Fortunately, he didn¡¯t live in need. A car is, when you get right down to it, a closed, moving room. Because the wall separating people from immorality had collapsed after the war, all sorts of people seemed to desire closed spaces in compensation.


    ¡ºHey, wanna get in?¡»


    It was fine for him to simply call out to a random girl like that. Just doing that granted him a reasonable rate of success. The girls would get into his car, treat him to some food, chat with him a bit, receive some cash, and do what a man and a woman would do in a closed room. It wasn¡¯t bad, being able to rely purely on the fact that he had a car, rather than his name or education.


    The end of his days living, driving, and watching like that came on a very normal spring day.


    ¡ºHey, if ye got some spare time, could ye drive my girl over to mine?¡»


    The one asking him was Michael Touring, a senior from his student days.


    ¡ºYe see, I¡¯m dating this girl right now, but just the other day we found out that her parents¡¯ company and my parent¡¯s company are business rivals. Our parents would be against us going out with each other¡»


    Seymour didn¡¯t remember what he answered. He felt like it was probably something along the lines of ¡ºMan, Shakespeare is so dated, dude¡». But he clearly remembered the expression on Michael¡¯s face that day.


    His passion for her had driven him to ask this of Seymour, despite the awkwardness and embarrassment that was involved, and the joy on his face reflected that. Seymour had always had a strong impression that Michael was the kind of guy who always had a crooked smile on his face and a bit of a nihilist, so he was surprised that Michael could even make an expression like that.


    ¡ºI mean, look, ye got that car of yers. I¡¯d like for ye to bring her to our dating spot so our parents don¡¯t find out. Please! I¡¯ll also pay ye!¡»


    Per his request, Seymour drove Michael¡¯s girlfriend Ms. So-and-so ©¤ he felt like Michael had told him her name but he had completely forgotten about it by now ©¤ to the locations of their clandestine meetings for some time after that.


    His memories about the girlfriend were quite vague. All he really remembered was her bowing.


    From Michael¡¯s point of view, Seymour was an old friend, but she couldn¡¯t possibly say the same. All things considered, she was probably quite reluctant to get in a car alone with a stranger. More so, when that guy was in the middle of running away from home, and lived inside his car like a homeless person.


    For this reason, the girlfriend was terribly wary of Seymour, and Seymour himself had no particular issues with it either. After all, it was reasonable behavior for any woman possessing a somewhat decent set of values.


    Be it on the first, third, or umpteenth drive; she always held onto the handle of her bag tightly and glued herself to the door whenever she got in Seymour¡¯s car. Her posture always indicated that she was ready to jump out of the car, whether it was moving or not, if Seymour made the slightest move or if the car ever turned into some shady back alley.


    Come to think of it, she seemed to be a frail woman, but she definitely had a sharp glint in her eyes ©¤ which reminds me, she might be the reason why I consider my slanted eyes a bad thing nowadays ©¤ and that look of hers was always stabbing the back of my head in the driver¡¯s seat like she was trying to drive a nail into it.


    From the beginning to the end, no normal conversation ever took place between Seymour and that woman. And thus, it was impossible for any kind of relationship to form between them.


    Nevertheless, she always got into the shady stranger¡¯s car for the sake of meeting with Michael, and whenever Seymour took her home, she always bowed to him courteously. Her politely bowing, a short and quick bob of her head, was the only thing he could clearly remember. Because of that, he thought that she was a lovely woman each time he saw the whorl of hair on her head. And each time he saw the smile she directed at Michael, he thought that their love was beautiful.


    In short, this became the first job of the courier Seymour Road. It was completely devoid of any drama, and for that very reason, it was a precious memory.


    He had somehow managed to acquire a somewhat exaggerated title ¡ºcourier who always delivers¡», but it all started with him playing a fake cupid.


    However, Seymour Road believed that this very first job was the most valuable among all the jobs he had done so far ©¤ although it was unfair to compare jobs.


    Maybe Michael did his best, maybe his girlfriend did, or maybe time resolved the issue, but eventually their parents acknowledged them as a couple, and they no longer needed some shady, suspicious guy to act as their go-between. Thus, around the time Seymour finished his first job, he decided to throw his lot into becoming a courier.


    It¡¯s an important truth that I¡¯m no one of importance, and I mustn¡¯t forget my starting point either.


    Probably because of his belief in this, Seymour occasionally dreamed about this first request.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°Hmm¡­.I don¡¯t think there¡¯s an issue.¡±


    Kicking the ground, Seymour slid the trolley and himself out from underneath his Essex, stretched, and grabbed the nearby coffee cup all without getting up. But, realizing that drinking coffee while still laying down would be difficult, he carefully put the cup back.


    ¡°Is¡­that so¡­¡­? I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡± Lumi, who had anxiously waited on the side as Seymour inspected the entire car despite his repeated reassurances, sighed in relief and drew closer.


    Last night, Seymour¡¯s car had been blown across a considerable distance and had experienced a rather significant impact upon landing.


    Under the circumstances, they hadn¡¯t had a choice. Therefore, even if the Essex had come out of it as nothing more than scrap, Seymour didn¡¯t think that he¡¯d blame Lumi, although it¡¯d have put him in something of a bind on how he would continue to earn money. But even so, it wasn¡¯t so bad to experience something like the innate goodness of man like this.


    ¡°I guess there are a few parts that need replacing, like the tires, but they¡¯re all repairs that an amateur like me can handle. The car suffered no major damage.¡±


    Sniffing his hands and grimacing in disgust, Seymour rolled onto his belly on the trolley.


    ¡°Haah, it¡¯s been a while since I did repair work. So tired¡­¡­ Go ahead and eat breakfast without me.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, you must eat something as well.¡±


    The aroma of bread being toasted on a gas burner had wafted over him during his work. Apparently Lumi had prepared French toast. A sugary sweetness, in sharp contrast to the metallic-tasting space, filled the air.


    ¡°Sure, if you say so, that¡¯s fine, but you see¡­my hands are dirty, so I¡¯d like you to feed me.¡±


    Seymour had mostly said this as a joke. Because of this, he was suspicious of Lumi¡¯s intentions when she approached with a plate loaded with the French toast she had made.


    Lumi crouched down in front of him, allowing Seymour a clear look at her white, healthy shins when he arched back and lifted his head.


    ¡°Here you go.¡± Lumi said, in a carefully flat voice as though it would cover up her blushing cheeks.


    In her right hand she held a piece of toast on a fork. Seymour decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly ate what had been offered.


    ¡°Hotch! Schweech! Still, somebody seems to be particularly nice today?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, you were kind enough to help me. Besides, umm¡­¡± Lumi lightly shook her head.


    Her long hair obstructed Seymour¡¯s sight. It still carries the faint scent of the sea from yesterday.


    ¡°¡­¡­Mr. Seymour, you were really cool when you were doing your best to complete the request yesterday, you know?¡±


    Before he could answer, another piece of toast was shoved into his mouth. It was apparently at this moment that Lumi remembered that they only had one fork. She stared at the fork she had just pulled out of Seymour¡¯s mouth, and then awkwardly began to eat her own breakfast. She was bothered by very peculiar things, Seymour thought.


    After chewing and swallowing what was in his mouth, Seymour looked in her direction, his mouth open like a baby bird as he continued to lie there. As if using the occasion, Seymour said, ¡°While you¡¯re at it, you should tell me I¡¯m cool more often, you know?¡±


    ¡°Would it be better for me to bring you a mirror?¡±


    ¡°Ahaha, nice one.¡±


    ¡°How was the French toast?¡±


    ¡°It rocks. So much so that I want to eat it every day.¡±


    ¡°I wonder why your praise sounds so much like empty flattery¡­ Anyway, I¡¯m glad. This is a recipe my mother taught me.¡±


    She always gave off a somewhat happy aura whenever she brought up her mother, and it always caused Seymour¡¯s chest to tighten a bit.


    ¡°By the way, there¡¯s a serious issue we need to talk about as soon as possible.¡±


    Though, even as he said this, Seymour prioritized breakfast. After relaxedly eating another bite of sweet bread from Lumi¡¯s hand, he nonchalantly tilted his head to the side.


    ¡°About your ¡ºsafe place¡».¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Ah.¡±


    ¡°In other words, it¡¯s about where I need to take you so that you¡¯d be ¡ºsafe¡».¡±


    Seeing Lumi about to return to her stiff posture, Seymour silently demanded the next bite of toast. Maintaining a solemn expression while feeding a grown man sprawled on the floor was fairly difficult, and Lumi gave up immediately, holding the fork out towards him with a sigh.


    ¡°Well, having said that, I¡¯ve already got a rough idea.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you do?¡±


    ¡°Lumi, I think you need to leave this city. This city is a mafia den, and you won¡¯t find any peace here, no matter where you go. Conversely, if you leave the city, it should be possible to find somewhere peaceful.¡±


    ¡°You say somewhere, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Broadly speaking, there are five mafia families in this city. And, those five mafia families have pretty much split this city up into five different territories.¡±


    He felt her eyes on him, silently prodding him for more detail, but Seymour ignored her demand by pretending to be caught up in trying to figure out how to drink his coffee lying down. Well, it was a fact that drinking in such a weird position would only result in him choking.


    He coughed and spit up some of the coffee.


    It¡¯s best to not get involved with the mafia.


    If he felt like it, Seymour could expand on his layman¡¯s knowledge of what influence each mafia family held, which families were fighting each other, or how this peculiar metropolis, where five huge mafia organizations competed ruthlessly, was structured, but he didn¡¯t think that it was necessary knowledge for Lumi.


    The city operated on several levels, and each of the levels affected the others but it was impossible to understand the city on a level other than your own. That was the kind of shape this city had taken. And although Seymour, a courier, operated in multiple layers, not belonging to any particular one, he fully understood that it was pointless to sift through mud that had already settled at the bottom of the bucket.


    ¡°You were captured, got chased around, and are now being targeted by some mafia family. In other words, if you reverse it©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°You mean I will be free as long as I stay away from that mafia family¡¯s territory¡­?¡±


    ¡°You got it. That¡¯s the basic idea here.¡±


    Lumi¡¯s immediate reaction to Seymour¡¯s nod was bewilderment. She was confused as to whether she¡¯d really be able to get away by doing something so simple.


    No, even before that, she¡¯s probably been too caught up in the misfortune associated with her birthright. I¡¯ve got no doubt that having the goal right in front of her all of a sudden must seem like a cruel joke after she resolved herself to keep running away for the rest of her life. But, that¡¯s just the way the world works ¨C it doesn¡¯t care about the wishes of any one person. Dramatic lead-ups to the end only happen on cheap, third-rate radio plays.


    ¡°But, that¡¯s something the mafia family chasing me should know as well, right?¡±


    ¡°Lumi, you haven¡¯t conveniently heard a name or something to clue us into which family it is, have you?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I thought as much,¡± Seymour shrugged. ¡°Anyway, don¡¯t worry. If I feel like it, I have a way of figuring out what kind of person has come to hire me.¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡±


    It¡¯s a means I don¡¯t really want to use, though, Seymour added in his mind.


    ¡°I knew it. Mr Seymour, you are amazing and fantastic!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t praise me too much just yet. We don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll work as planned. Either way, as I said¡­,¡± he pulled himself upright then slouched on the creeper, his lips quirking into a smile, ¡°As soon as we learn which mafia family is chasing you, we¡¯ll also know the escape route. The mafia attacks in the last few days tell us that they aren¡¯t that serious about it. I wouldn¡¯t expect them to chase you if we manage to get you out of their sphere of influence. In other words, our farewell is actually not that far off.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Ah.¡± A small exclamation escaped her as her face filled with honest sadness.


    Having a beautiful girl reluctant to part with him made Seymour quite happy. But, her honesty only highlighted how unsuited she was for this city and strengthened his resolve to let her get away at any cost.


    ¡°Get ready to say goodbye. If you leave me with an extraordinary smile, all my efforts will have been worthwhile.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Okay!¡± Lumi nodded assertively, but her face was already scrunched up in gloom.


    ¡°Ah, come on, I really suck at handling such depressing stuff.¡±


    Seymour reflexively ended up searching for words to cheer Lumi up with, though at the same time he felt like it wasn¡¯t so bad having this kind of exchange between them.


    Besides, he thought, yesterday she willingly exercised her nature as a vampire.


    Although she had hidden her bloodsucking, the trait that would most prominently identify her as a vampire, she had still manifested her vampiric nature for the sake of gaining Seymour¡¯s trust.


    I must respond in kind to such complete trust.


    ¡°By the way Lumi, I don¡¯t think there will be any other attacks for a while, and I can¡¯t really say that staying at home or at the Holiday is safe either.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    ¡°So, won¡¯t you come with me while I work?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 5 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 2.6

    ¡°Changed your ways have you, mister?¡±


    Despite hearing the question, Seymour didn¡¯t raise his eyes for a while.


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯re walking around with quite the beauty.¡±


    Standing in front of a small store called Hornsby Cigars, facing the street, Seymour had been flipping through a cigarette catalog while leaning on the counter. He closed the catalog, disappointed after noticing the absence of ¡ºToi Mo¡» in the entries under T. The flavor of those cigarettes had grown on him.


    Having finished, he finally lifted his gaze, and responded with something that had absolutely nothing to do with what he had been asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing bad stuff again, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ll go to hell if you keep doing things like that all the time, Fran.¡±


    He was speaking to a girl ©¤ Fran, or to be more precise, Francina Hornsby. She often worked at this cigar store as a clerk. Seymour had never asked for her age, but it was a fact that her feet swung well above the ground when she sat in her chair.


    But, her demeanor was far from childish. Her murky and dull eyes, the thinly rolled cigar in her mouth, and her black hair roughly chopped to shoulder length in all came together to form a mature air that clashed with her small build.


    Seymour watched a man leave Hornsby Cigars. The customer had been in a deep talk with Fran just moments ago. He had something clutched tight to his chest as he hurried along. It was unlikely to be a cigar box, probably more like a written note that was hidden in his inner pocket.


    This store dealt in several goods besides cigars. One of them was information.


    While shaking her cigar with its sweet, glistening smoke, Fran said, ¡°Mister, didn¡¯t you say something embarrassing like ¡ºA man¡¯s job got to be done alone¡»before?¡±


    Lumi, who had been looking down at something inside the Essex Seymour had parked along the street, noticed his backward glance, and waved at him.


    After waving back at her with a broad smile, Seymour answered, ¡°Well, a lot of stuff happened.¡±


    It¡¯s been a week since the clash with the mafia. After the repairs were finished, Lumi always stayed in the back seat of the Essex when Seymour was out on a job. They had just finished one before coming to this store.


    If pressed for a practical reason, Seymour would say that she was convenient to have around. The amount of work he could finish wouldn¡¯t change whether she was with him or not. Or, more simply, you might say that he enjoyed her presence. It was the first time he had kept any goods meant for delivery in his possession for so long; perhaps that was why he was becoming unusually attached.


    Since it¡¯d be a pain to explain either of those reasons, Seymour shrugged once more.


    ¡°You¡¯ve become quite a popular figure for gossip. Among the ladies aiming for you, and also quite a few others.¡±


    ¡°Just give it a rest, and pass me the cigarettes.¡±


    ¡°Have you chosen which ones?¡±


    ¡°The cheapest ones©¤©¤©¤©¤the ones right above that.¡±


    ¡°I really like how you¡¯re so easy to read, mister.¡± Fran turned over some papers that seemed to be an inventory list with a giggle. And as she picked up several cigarette packs, she casually added, ¡°Also, one small correction. Hell isn¡¯t a place you go to. Heaven is.¡±


    ¡°Remind me again, what school of thought says that no one goes to hell?¡±


    ¡°None. Heaven is a place you go to, but hell is a place you fall into. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t particularly unusual for Fran to spout insights like this. Perhaps it was the fact that she had more free time working in this shop than she knew what to do with, time she could use to philosophize. That, or she enjoyed being able to play a worthless, silly word game since a word from her could usually be turned into cash in hand.


    ¡°If someone aims for heaven, they can only claw their way up on their own. That¡¯s why it¡¯s a place where you go to. But, no one would willingly walk towards hell. Thus, hell is a place into which you fall as punishment for your evil deeds. After all, no human can defy gravity, right?¡± Fran piled up the cigarette packs.


    ¡°All things considered, I think it¡¯s a little strange for you to be saying things like this though.¡±


    Fran appeared to make an attempt at flashing a smile, but ended up coughing sickly instead.


    ¡°Well, by that same logic, it means you won¡¯t fall into hell as long as you¡¯re careful of holes at your feet, mister. And, I make sure to keep my eye out for them.¡± Fran swung her dangling feet.


    As long as you don¡¯t step on the ground, you can never fall through any holes in it.


    Laughing at the childish quibbling, he stacked up the cigarette packs he had bought, and placed a hand on top.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Seymour leaned forward with a feigned nonchalance, ¡°did you look for what I asked you before?¡±


    ¡°This here? You sure have some sudden requests, huh?¡±


    Fran took out a single piece of paper from her pocket. Placing it on the counter, one could see that it was a worn scrap of paper with kinked edges. A scrap that fit easily in the palm of a hand and contained only three pieces of information written down in a mundane font.


    The name Seymour Road, the job courier, and the telephone number of the Holiday.


    ¡°Thanks a bunch. I¡¯ve been thinking that it¡¯s about time for me to get my own telephone. So I¡¯ve been checking where my business cards have ended up so I can change the telephone number on them.¡±


    ¡°Really? So you¡¯ve finally been converted as well, huh?¡±


    He returned the business card, saying that he only wanted to check it, and began to walk away with the cigarettes in one hand. But, before he could take more than two steps, he heard her voice pipe up behind him.


    ¡°Please be careful, Mister. The holes leading straight to hell open at the most unexpected times.¡±


    He waved her off without looking back, smiling bitterly.


    Reaching his car, he opened the passenger¡¯s door, dumped his cigarettes and his coat on the seat, went around to the driver¡¯s side and flopped down in the seat.


    Apparently Lumi had been reading a book. Seymour spotted a spine that used to be in his room back at his parent¡¯s home. ¡ºHey, Al¡» was a comedic novel that had been popular in the past.


    ¡°You like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s funny.¡± Lumi said with a smile in her voice.


    It was a fairly rare sight to see her openly enjoy something, it was quite relieving to see.


    ¡°Did you buy your cigarettes?¡±


    ¡°Mmh, I did, and I also checked a little something.¡±


    Mentally checking off another item on the list in his head, Seymour said all of a sudden, ¡°It took a while, but it looks like I can pinpoint which mafia kidnapped you, Lumi.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Lumi straightened up on her seat, her eyes wide in surprise.


    But it was only to be expected. In the week since he had declared that he¡¯d identify the mafia family targeting Lumi, Seymour had only done his regular work. At the least, that¡¯s what it must have looked like to Lumi.


    ¡°I-Is that so¡­¡­.?¡±


    ¡°Well, since it¡¯s not a particularly impressive thing, I¡¯ll explain the trick real quick. Look, the routes I drive for my job are pretty limited, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Seymour took a business card out of his pocket with a flourish. This one was a lot more crumpled than the one with Hornsby since he had it carelessly shoved in a pocket, but even so, it was barely recognizable as the same sort of business card.


    He smoothly offered it to Lumi.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t registered a company or anything like that. I don¡¯t run any advertisements either. That means that those who know that I¡¯m a courier are limited to those with my business cards and those who found out from the word spread by those who have requested me.¡±


    Seymour¡¯s first job was dropping off his schoolmate¡¯s girlfriend and picking her up afterwards. Later, after that job was over and he had decided to become a courier, Seymour made about a hundred business cards and passed a few to his friend. Michael took those cards and distributed them to his acquaintances, and each time Seymour got a new job, he handed some of his business cards to his new client.


    Those hundred business cards that had been distributed in this manner ©¤©¤ excepting, of course, the good number of them that would have been thrown away or burned ©¤©¤ are surely still making their rounds in this city.


    It wasn¡¯t as though Seymour had expected that his service would become something so shady from the outset. Still, it wasn¡¯t possible to become well known right away so the most stable jobs all tended to be shady.


    ¡°That was the first time that scary man asked me to deliver something. In other words¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re saying that that person probably learned about you very recently?¡±


    ¡°Well, usually there would be no need to know about a bottom-feeder like me. We should probably think of it as him choosing a contractor that would let you get away, Lumi.¡±


    This was why Seymour had begun to check on the whereabouts of his business cards. Handing over his business card was the quickest way to recommend Seymour. Besides, even without tracking the specific movements of the cards, just grasping their rough distribution was enough to suggest some leads.


    It was only after Seymour told Lumi that he would soon have an idea of a destination for her escape that he noticed that her eyes were cast downwards. Seymour tilted his head in confusion; he had thought that this would be good news for her.


    ¡°I beg your pardon. I¡¯m sure that this must be a rather dangerous endeavor for you, right Mr. Seymour?¡± Lumi said softly, like she was scared of touching on a raw nerve.


    She¡¯s a sharp one, Seymour subconsciously clicked his tongue. Naturally, searching for the business cards he had distributed in the past was a dubious move that had raised the suspicions of more than just Fran. Even the excuse he had hastily given her might not be enough to counteract the suspiciousness of the act itself.


    ¡°Nevermind that.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Cleverness isn¡¯t much of a virtue in this city. No, let me rephrase, anything can become a virtue or weakness in this city. So I think it¡¯s better to think carefully about when you ought to be clever.¡± Since Lumi didn¡¯t lift her head despite his comment, Seymour added, ¡°It¡¯s smarter to think about what kind of city you¡¯d like to escape to. Is there anywhere you¡¯d like to go?¡±


    The question allowed Lumi to shift her gaze. Her eyes absentmindedly stared out of the window. She had a look on her face like she was searching for a place that didn¡¯t exist. It was the same look she had on the day they met.


    ¡°¡­¡­A place with a beautiful, sandy beach would be nice.¡±


    ¡°Hee, I would¡¯ve thought that a vacation at the beach would be the last place a vampire would want to be.¡±


    ¡°Mum and dad met on a sandy beach, I heard. Mum told me a lot of stories from her memory when we lived in the mansion. That¡¯s why, at some point, I also started to yearn for an endless walk along a pretty beach.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great. Let¡¯s look for a city like that then. It¡¯ll be alright. I¡¯m a courier who¡¯s never failed at his job after all. I¡¯ll definitely deliver you.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sure it must be lovely to walk in a place like that in the twilight.¡±


    A crimson sky and a white beach. And a girl walking the boundary between land and sea forever and ever, white hair streaming behind her. It was an impossible scene, and that was precisely why it was beautiful. Lumi¡¯s words were filled with nothing but longing for that impossibility.


    I think I should get the car moving soon. Seymour extended a hand backwards to retrieve his business card.


    ¡°¡­¡­Umm.¡±


    But, it wasn¡¯t a small piece of card that touched his hand. Instead, soft slender fingers gently brushed the back of his hand, only lightly pressing down.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, won¡¯t you go on a walk with me someday as well?¡±


    He could faintly feel her pulse and body temperature through the fingers connected with his hand. He considered taking a peek at Lumi through the rear-view mirror, but refrained. With only his hand extended backwards, he imagined it for just a short moment, the lovely scenery with this girl next to him. He¡¯d leave this town with her, live in some city somewhere, and go on walks with her. Even if it was no more than a dream borne from her momentary loneliness, he felt like it was worth holding on to.


    But, in the end, the words that actually left Seymour¡¯s mouth were: ¡°Whatever city you choose, I¡¯ll take you there. ¡­¡­Let¡¯s think about the rest when we get there, okay?¡±


    He quickly pulled his hand away from Lumi¡¯s.


    Before he had noticed, he had left home, and before he had noticed, he had become a courier. Even though his life hadn¡¯t amounted to much, he felt extremely hesitant to give up on it. He felt as if he was making some kind of mistake. If he had properly continued his schooling, perhaps he might have a name for this feeling.


    Seymour sensed that Lumi was nodding behind him and wondered whether he should ask Sunny about it the next time they saw each other.


    ¡°Okay, by all means, let¡¯s go together, alright?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 6 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 2.7

    ¡ºHistoric First! Woman Completes the Solo First Nonstop Flight Across the Pacific!¡»


    Seymour sighed, folding the newspaper over its blaring headline and tossing it onto the coat in the passenger seat.


    ¡°¡­Nothing about yesterday, eh?¡±


    There was no mention about yesterday¡¯s shooting and explosion in the newspaper. And not just that. Turf wars between the various mafia families in the city raged on, but very little of it was reflected in the papers.


    It wasn¡¯t as though the mafia was controlling the information either.


    To put it simply, no one cared. Instead, the most eye-catching pieces covered all kinds of records like nonstop flights, surveys of unexplored regions, and records of most time spent underwater. They didn¡¯t even acknowledge the significance of these achievements, emptily praising them for being achievements in and of themselves.


    Seymour usually wasn¡¯t one to sigh, but today one escaped his lips.


    There was a distinct feeling of averting your eyes from the truly compelling issues in favor of the sensational. A perverted feeling of having your priorities backwards. Today, Seymour suddenly felt the melancholy of the era weigh down heavily on him.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Hey man, you okay?¡±


    The question directed at him through the window felt like the reverberations of last night¡¯s explosion in his head. He pulled down the window, shifting his eyes outside.


    ¡°Yes. No problem. I¡¯m on time, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, as always. Good work.¡± An Oriental man with a good build and sunglasses replied, smiling at him.


    Seymour wasn¡¯t familiar enough with foreigners to be able to guess an exact age, but he was probably at an age where he could pass as Seymour¡¯s dad. The familiar face and voice made him smile, and he reached over to the passenger¡¯s seat. He picked up three blue cigar boxes with ¡ºGrind the MillToi Mo¡»written on them.


    While he was at it, he said in a flat voice that would hide his intent, ¡°You might want to have a chat with the client about this job. The packaging is getting visibly sloppier¡­or well. More like, they¡¯ve stopped wrapping it entirely.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t his first time delivering a package to this man. Seymour had seen his face once or twice a week for over a year now, and like everything in life, it took them a while to get used to each other. In the beginning, the packages were wrapped up carefully on top of being in a huge dummy case. But, soon the dummy case disappeared and the box itself was just wrapped up in a cloth, and finally, today, the cigars ©¤ which Seymour had only just discovered were what he¡¯d been delivering all along ©¤ had been left uncovered.


    Seymour never asked¡ºwhat¡»as a rule, but he couldn¡¯t help it since the client hadn¡¯t even wrapped it this time around. Seemingly understanding what Seymour, who was fighting back a grimace, was thinking, the man chuckled lightly.


    ¡°It simply means that your work deserves this much trust.¡± The job should have been finished with the hand-over of the cigars, however the man kept talking, ¡°By the way, here.¡±


    He thrust several bills through the window.


    ¡°Pardon? I have already received my payment.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it. Your car, look, it stinks.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    During yesterday¡¯s uproar, various things had made their way into Seymour¡¯s Essex. The smell of gunpowder and ash was much harder to get rid of than that of garbage. There were also stains here and there all over the black frame of the car.


    ¡°This should be enough for a car wash. It¡¯s vital to your work, so you should take proper care of it.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll gratefully accept your kindness.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry ¡¯bout it. Just earn enough cash to afford this kind of thing, at least.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha, not everything in life is about money, though.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, how deep, dude.¡±


    After the man has seen him off with a teasing laugh, Seymour exhaled in relief.


    No car chase, no explosions, and of course no gunshots or death either. Wonderful. A very ordinary, everyday job. Well, ordinary is quite the rarity in this city, though.


    ¡°Still¡­¡±


    Although the afternoon traffic couldn¡¯t be described as a traffic jam, it was still congested enough to make Seymour tap his pedals impatiently. After confirming that it was safe in front, he took a peek at the back seat. The abnormality was quite obvious even at a glance. The Essex¡¯ back seat was clean and tidy when compared to the car¡¯s exterior, even though it had been covered in a girl¡¯s blood and flesh just yesterday.


    Seymour hadn¡¯t done anything that could be called cleaning. And even if he had diligently scrubbed the whole seat, the putrid stench that the stains had given off yesterday should still be clinging to it.


    ¡°Well, in other words, c¡¯est la vie.¡±


    After driving for another 30 minutes, Seymour¡¯s home came into view. Although the only person who would recognise it as a home was Seymour. It was one of many garages lining this street on the outskirts of town. A perpetual salty sea breeze travelled up the river beside the street from the nearby ocean.


    Seymour stopped the car in front of the garage that broadly resembled a giant dog house. He got out of his car and rolled his neck. Then sneezed. This neighborhood was often referred to as an industrial area, and had the charm of being deserted except for the periods when the various workers clocked in or out in the morning and evening, but only the bad air produced by the factory across the street was a distinct drawback.


    He took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. As he grabbed the shutter, the rust rubbed against his palm. He liked the rough, brittle texture, and thus he didn¡¯t go out of his way to remove the rust. Shoving the shutter twice to get it fully open, both accompanied by loud jarring screeches that threatened to bring the whole place down, he drove into the garage.


    The garage itself was a cramped hole that seemed too small even though there was only one car, a tool shelf and a few materials strewn about. With the window shut, the only light source was a naked bulb that hung from the ceiling, coloring the stagnant air a yellowish-brown. The metallic material of the walls was clearly exposed, though there were some richly colored patches here and there. Those were a result of Seymour occasionally splashing some paint on them for a change of pace, and the various layers of paint managed to come together and vaguely resemble marble.


    Seymour climbed the ladder to a small loft above the garage. The small mezzanine floor made the already small garage seem even more cramped. That small loft served as Seymour¡¯s living space. And right now, there was a girl sleeping in the bed.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    The girl¡¯s ©¤©¤©¤©¤ Lumi¡¯s face was quite pretty. The blood and brain matter she had spilled on the back seat of the Essex last night had now settled back in her head, returning to its previous state. There was no doubt about that since Seymour had watched with his own eyes how the blood and flesh had crawled back into her body as if he were watching a movie backwards. And, she had remained asleep ever since yesterday. He had tucked her in with a blanket that more closely resembled a rag with its machine oil stains and burn marks, but her breathing had remained regular and she never woke. The hem of her skirt, which she had been wearing since yesterday along with the rest of her outfit, was riding rather dangerously high.


    Making his way through the heaps of miscellaneous goods on the floor, Seymour leaned back on his workdesk and lit a cigarette. He pulled on the wristwatch he took off to drive and stretched out a leg, drawing a metallic trash can to himself. He slowly filled his lungs with smoke with an expression that was a lot more emotionless than that of the sleeping girl.


    The trash can had managed to catch the ash of two cigarettes by the time the girl¡¯s eyelids snapped open.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Nh, ah.¡± A delicate sigh.


    Her long eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Seymour covered his mouth with his right hand. The cigarette between two fingers, he pressed it to his mouth before pulling it away to reveal a smile.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Goood¡­mooornin¡¯¡­¡± Lumi greeted him back properly even as her head lolled a bit.


    Only then did her eyes focus. Immediately a red tinge appeared on her cheeks, clearly signaling her embarrassment. Pulling her legs up under her and dragging the blanket up to cover everything from chin to toes, she said.


    ¡°Umm¡­¡­good morning. Excuse me for occupying your bed all night long.¡±


    Those are her first words after waking up in the bed of a man who¡¯s basically a stranger to her?


    There was a small chuckle from Seymour, but it was natural and unplanned, unlike a little while ago.


    ¡°I feel like you¡¯re an early riser for a vampire. There¡¯s still some time left until dusk.¡±


    The word still didn¡¯t feel quite real to him even though he had said it countless times since last night ¨C vampire. The word seemed to be quite significant to Lumi however, her shoulders betraying how she had started at the mere mention.


    ¡°Besides, you look awfully healthy for someone whose brain was all over my backseat just yesterday.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­E-Excuse me.¡±


    ¡°What are you apologizing for?¡± Seymour asked quite genuinely, not intending it as a snide remark or with any sarcasm.


    But his tone came out crueler than he had imagined it would, and Seymour suspected that he might be a little irritated.


    Just, about what?


    He saw a pang of fear flash through Lumi¡¯s golden eyes as she perceptively sensed the sharpness oozing out of his voice.


    ¡°Vampire, huh, what¡¯s all that about?¡±


    ¡°W-What¡¯s that about, you ask¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not really knowledgeable about these kinds of things, so I don¡¯t quite know what it entails.¡± Seymour only knew that term from the fictional stories that could be found on every street corner. ¡°They suck human blood, are weak against sunlight, can turn into fog, can¡¯t cross running water, transform into bats, hate crosses, perish when having a stake driven into their heart, and hate garlic. That¡¯s about as much as I know about vampires.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, that¡¯s the kind of being I am.¡± Lumi had a deadly serious look on her face as she agreed with what Seymour had said half in jest.


    He lifted an eyebrow, unconvinced, but there wasn¡¯t a single sign that indicated that she was kidding.


    The silver-haired girl straightened up on the bed. Lowering the blanket that had been draped over her body, she crumpled it up with her fingers, and confirmed Seymour¡¯s words with a beautiful voice entirely unworthy of a being commonly referred to as a monster.


    ¡°I suck human blood, am weak against sunlight, can turn into fog, can¡¯t cross running water, transform into bats, hate crosses, perish when having a stake driven into my heart, and hate garlic. ©¤©¤©¤©¤That¡¯s the kind of vampire I am.¡±


    Even though he felt like laughing it off, the scene he had witnessed last night still lingered in Seymour¡¯s mind. He couldn¡¯t conclusively decide whether she was a vampire or not ©¤ it¡¯s not like he could check by throwing her out into the sun right now ©¤ but there was no doubt that she had survived having a huge hole blown in her head.


    ¡®Usually when people¡¯s brains are splattered outside their head, they¡¯re pretty dead. In other words, she¡¯s definitely not human.


    Seymour fell silent for a while. He only pulled himself together once the heat of his cigarette made itself a priority. He took one last puff from the last remnants of the cigarette, and ground it out against the trash can. With it, he easily extinguished the questions swirling in his head.


    ¡°I see. Well, then¡­¡± The most important question wasn¡¯t whether or not she was a vampire. ¡°¡­are you being chased by the mafia?¡±


    He was pretty sure the same images that were being dredged up in his mind at the words were flashing through hers as well. An exploding house. A man¡¯s head turned into bloody pulp by gunshots. Gunshots spilling her open.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Yes, I must be, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Must be?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always lived with my mother up until fairly recently. In a small house, just the two of us. But, mother¡­didn¡¯t come home one day.¡±


    Lumi tearfully swallowed before she managed to get the words ¡ºdidn¡¯t come home¡»out. Seymour didn¡¯t feel like probing any further about this.


    ¡°And then I was taken to a much bigger house, a mansion. I didn¡¯t really know what was happening, but there were many men there, and I knew that they were scheming something¡­bad¡­¡­.¡± Lumi¡¯s shoulders trembled, as if she was struggling to breathe.


    ¡°¡­¡­And then, I ran away from there yesterday.¡±


    Seymour¡¯s reply was the same as before, ¡°I see.¡±


    He felt like just saying those two words was a little heartless so he added in a slightly flustered manner, ¡°Okay, I understand the situation. We don¡¯t know who exactly is targeting you, but there¡¯s value in just knowing that the mafia is after you.¡±


    The human-shaped entity before him was a vampire. That was worth something in and of itself. There might be dirty work they would force this inhuman monster to do, or they might simply plan to market her like some panda, tropical fish, or rhinoceros beetle. It was also possible that someone had simply fallen for Lumi¡¯s charm, as unexpected as it might sound. Still, there was no real point in trying to guess their motives.


    ¡°You were targeted yesterday, and that¡¯s not likely to have changed today or tomorrow.¡±


    Lumi cast her eyes down. As soon as she did, Seymour felt the mood of the whole room plummet.


    ¡°Yes¡­you¡¯re probably right. I¡¯m still being chased, am I not?¡±


    Then her leather boots landed on the floor with a thud. Her feet had been hidden in her shoes since yesterday, and Seymour idly wondered if they were swollen or in pain. Lumi still looked rather unstable even though she had managed to get up. Seymour lent her a hand.


    ¡°¡­¡­gh!?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Kyaaa!?¡±


    His hand was flung off as soon as they made contact. But not because Lumi had shaken it off. Some invisible, mysterious force had repelled them from each other. The impact was so strong that Seymour might have stumbled if he wasn¡¯t leaning against the desk. His entire arm was numb, like he had just been electrocuted. The force tore the wristwatch right off his arm, sending it flying into the wall and before it fell all the way to the ground floor with a loud clatter. The force had repelled Lumi as well, bending her arm backward unnaturally.


    An instantaneous commotion, followed by an instinctive comprehension of the cause.


    ¡°Vampire, eh¡­?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s wristwatch was decorated with silver. Vampires were weak against silver. They couldn¡¯t touch it. It was a well known fact in vampire folklore. .


    That inability to touch silver must have produced the force. It must have been generated to ensure that she never had contact with silver.


    That was the conclusion Seymour came to. Lumi¡¯s eyes widened, either from the pain or her anxiety. Her eyes tracked the path of the fallen wristwatch, her teeth clenched and her lips pursed into a thin line.


    ¡°¡­¡­Sorry.¡±


    An apology that seemed to be aimed at no one in particular. But Seymour somehow had a hunch what she¡¯d say next.


    ¡°Umm, I¡¯ll leave right now. I¡¯m terribly sorry for imposing on you for such a long time. Thank you very much.¡± She bowed once, and started to walk off unsteadily, though it was slow enough that her hair remained limp on her shoulders despite her unsteadiness.


    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±


    Seymour silently thrust his numb fingers into the cigarette pack. He spun the cigarette in his fingers, noting that he hadn¡¯t lost any range of motion.


    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±


    Bringing it to his mouth, he stopped and sighed. The scene from last night replayed through his mind. Lumi¡¯s long hair fluttering in the wind. The moment that had been so vivid that he hadn¡¯t even cared that his fingers had lost all sensation or that the wind had chilled him to the bone.


    He sighed once more.


    After making sure that he wasn¡¯t carrying other silver besides the wristwatch, he grabbed Lumi¡¯s hand as she passed him, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers.


    ¡°Hyaaa!¡±


    ¡°¡­Do you have somewhere you can go?¡±


    Despite the hand holding her back, she didn¡¯t turn back to look at him. Seymour could only see the back of her well-shaped head.


    ¡°Ah, no, that is¡­I¡¯ve always lived with my mother, so¡­¡±


    ¡°What about the guy from yesterday?¡±


    ¡°That man is a member of the mafia that kidnapped me. Although he allowed me to get away for some unknown reason¡­¡±


    Seymour smiled wryly at how she had said it so airily, in complete contrast to the actual words coming out of her mouth. Seymour didn¡¯t give a damn why he wanted to let Lumi Spike get away. In the end, if he really intended to save her, then he shouldn¡¯t have stuffed her into Seymour¡¯s car and caused her to end up all alone.


    He felt her warmth through the hand he was grabbing. It seemed that vampires were warm-blooded. And as far as Seymour was concerned, the most solid proof that a person was human was their body temperature. If they were comfortable to embrace, then they were human.


    ¡°How about staying with me then?¡±


    He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. This was a choice that definitely came with trouble.


    Lumi also realized it. She whirled around with wide eyes, before slowly lowering them again.


    ¡°But¡­¡­I can¡¯t trouble you Mr. Seymour, not any more than¡­¡±


    That made sense. If Seymour had been sitting in his car, he would never have said anything like that. Rescuing a girl being chased by the mafia wasn¡¯t part of a courier¡¯s job description. But, currently his hands weren¡¯t holding onto the wheel, and his feet weren¡¯t resting on the pedals.


    ¡°How about this, then. Yesterday that man requested that I escort you home. And that job isn¡¯t over yet. The place I was supposed to deliver you to was blown to pieces before you could enter it.¡± The corners of Seymour¡¯s lips twitched upward. ¡°That¡¯s why, you see¡­¡­as compensation, I¡¯ll deliver you somewhere on my pride as a courier. Anywhere you wish to go to.¡±


    Seymour spoke with a level of determination that was quite rare for Seymour, but even so, traces of hesitation still remained in Lumi¡¯s eyes. Therefore, since he was already committed, he added one more brief comment.


    ¡°As a special limited time offer, I¡¯ll even take you to somewhere that¡¯s not recorded on the map, okay?¡±


    Though Lumi couldn¡¯t possibly understand the real meaning behind those words, she still laughed softly like her heartstrings had been pulled. She turned around, and for the first time, Seymour saw a faint playfulness in her eyes.


    ¡°If you tell me all that, I¡¯ll really depend on you, you know?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Even though I might look like this, my job completion rate is my greatest pride.¡±


    ¡°In that case©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Lumi requested boldly, her seriousness undercut by the smile on her face, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤please take me somewhere safe.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 1 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Taking Lumi Spike to a ¡ºsafe place¡» naturally wouldn¡¯t be a normal, simple delivery job. Seymour and Lumi were both implicitly aware of that fact, but they quickly encountered an issue that needed to be rectified posthaste. Lumi was a vampire, and wounds not inflicted by her legendary weaknesses apparently vanished without a trace. Unfortunately, this was limited to just her body.


    In other words, her clothes were a tattered mess thanks to yesterday¡¯s events.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Okay, we¡¯re here.¡±


    Because of this, Seymour had driven them to a middle class residential area nearby in his Essex a few hours after sunset.


    ¡°This place is¡­?¡±


    Considering their destination, it was best for Lumi to avoid looking like a ¡ºsuspicious woman wearing filthy clothes¡», thus she was currently covering herself with Seymour¡¯s jacket. However, the oversized men¡¯s clothing only added to her overall indecent appearance.


    Seymour knocked on the door of a white house with a small garden.


    ¡°It¡¯s my parent¡¯s home.¡±


    Stepping off the car, Lumi¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°¡­¡­.Your parent¡¯s home? So, that means your parents will be inside?¡±


    ¡°Why do you look so surprised? Did you think that I was some kind of car part that was manufactured in a factory?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it, but¡­it¡¯s somewhat difficult for me to think of you as anything but a courier.¡±


    Is that how it works? Well, maybe it¡¯s normal to have trouble with that. Seymour also found it hard to imagine Lumi living the happy life she had before she had the mafia on her tail.


    Soon after, a voice could be heard from the other side of the door, ¡°Yes, who might you be?¡±


    ¡°A hitman.¡±


    ¡°Ah, bro. Welcome home.¡±


    The door opened in front of Seymour as he pouted. A tall and lanky girl appeared before them. She was just slightly shorter than Seymour, but tall enough that their eyes could still meet. Her wavy, voluminous hair was cropped short, making her look rather top heavy.


    ¡°I¡¯m back, Sunny. Long time no see.¡± Seymour deftly spread his arms, clearly asking for a hug.


    Sunny readily ignored his gesture, extending a hand towards him instead. She patted down his butt and thighs, then moved upwards, locating and pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. After crushing it in her hands, she grinned.


    ¡°It really has been a long time. Hmm, I think the last time you came back home was in summer?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right since you spent ages deliberating on which swimsuit you wanted to wear to the beach.¡±


    ¡°You tease!¡± Sunny casually jabbed Seymour¡¯s shoulder.


    Then she suddenly noticed the girl gawking up at her next to Seymour with a start. Having said that, it was fairly understandable. When Seymour and Sunny interacted, Lumi wouldn¡¯t really enter their line of sight.


    ¡°Eh? Whoa!? What a cutie! Umm, who might you be? Oh, wait, bro suddenly coming back must mean¡­? Bah, you need to tell us such things in advance, you know!? I wonder, who¡¯s older between us? Are you going to be my big sister? Or my little sister? I have to tell Mum right away! You have pretty hair!¡±


    ¡°Umm, you see¡­¡±


    ¡°Let her speak.¡±


    When Seymour poked her forehead, Sunny slapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled through her palm, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry! I always end up babbling on end all by myself!¡±


    ¡°N-No, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m Lumi Spike. Umm, Mr. Seymour is¡­umm.¡±


    Seymour put a hand on Lumi¡¯s shoulder as she struggled to find a good explanation for their circumstances. He had handled Sunny with a lighter hand.


    ¡°This is Sunny, my little sister. And Sunny, it¡¯s been decided that I¡¯ll take care of this girl here for a while due to work. However, various things happened and I couldn¡¯t prepare any clothes or anything for her.¡±


    ¡°Due to work, huh? That¡¯s totally fishy.¡±


    Sunny¡¯s eyes were pinned on Seymour¡¯s jacket around Lumi. Come to think of it, I¡¯ve worn this jacket in front of Sunny before, haven¡¯t I? She¡¯s a fussy one who never forgets small details like that.


    ¡°Are you still working as a courier?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s family had a vague idea about his job. The goods he actually delivered aside, at least they knew that he was a private courier who¡¯d accept any job, no matter how shady.


    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s a job for that shady Mr. Courier. You¡¯ve still got all your old clothes, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Sunny grew as fast as bamboo once she hit puberty, so she had many opportunities to buy clothes. Out of nostalgia and sentimentality, his sister had kept almost all of those old past clothes.


    ¡°Can you lend me some? I¡¯ll probably give them back to you soon.¡±


    ¡°Bro, that¡¯s the tone you use when you don¡¯t plan on returning things¡­ Well, whatever, I¡¯ll lend you some anyway. Hmm, I think the clothes I wore when I was 13 should be just right for her.¡±


    ¡°Which reminds me, I haven¡¯t asked yet either. How old are you, Ms. Lumi?¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m 19 years old.¡±


    Confronted with her big upturned eyes, Seymour and Sunny¡¯s smiles were strained.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll wait in the car then©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Seymour started to say, as if he had expected nothing less, but Sunny immediately cut in.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to greet Mum, bro?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­ Hmm, I guess you¡¯re right, I should.¡±


    An unnatural pause, and a mumbled agreement. Ignoring the faintly questioning look in the golden eyes, he asked Sunny to take Lumi with her, and entered the house as well.


    Seymour gently massaged the area around his eyes, knowing without looking that his brows were instinctively furrowed. This place was filled with too many memories. As he passed the short hallway and walked into the living room, he ran into his mother. It wasn¡¯t as though she hadn¡¯t noticed Seymour entering, but her eyes didn¡¯t leave the knitwork in her hands.


    ¡°Hey, Mum. I¡¯m back.¡±


    Three chairs stood at the long table. Two were lined up at the head, close to the door, and one had been left on the opposite side. The chair that exuded an air of isolation was his mother¡¯s usual spot. She didn¡¯t reply to Seymour¡¯s greeting as he leaned against the door. Seymour sighed, and sat down on the chair diagonally across from his mother.


    After sitting down, he noticed a cushion had been put on the chair. Frowning at its softness, he pulled it out and stacked it on top of Sunny¡¯s chair. The cushion hadn¡¯t been there when he came here last time. Although many years had already passed since Seymour moved out, his mother was still buying furniture and other things in sets of three. She probably knew that this fact kept Seymour away from this home instead.


    ¡°I¡¯m back.¡±


    His mother slowly looked up at Seymour¡¯s face.


    ¡°Welcome home. Why the sudden visit? Are you going to stay for dinner?¡±


    ¡°I just came to borrow some of Sunny¡¯s clothes and pick up something I forgot. I¡¯m on a job right now, so I¡¯ll leave right away.¡±


    ¡°Job, huh? Did you land a decent job?¡±


    ¡°Not really. I¡¯m still scraping by with my courier service, just like before.¡±


    Sighing in lieu of a reply, his mother got up from her chair. She made a trip to the kitchen and came back with a teacup in her hand.


    Putting it down in front of Seymour, she suddenly asked, ¡°You¡¯re not smoking, are you?¡±


    Seymour smiled at her, one of the few people these days who was against smoking.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m glad to hear.¡± Even as she said this, she patted him down, frisking his thighs and breast pocket.


    There was no longer a cigarette pack for her to find. But had he still had one, Seymour would have likely given the same answer, knowing his mother would take the same course of action regardless.


    ¡°Are you coming home soon? Look, you¡¯ll need to get a decent job eventually. Why not give school another shot?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. If I feel like it, that is.¡±


    ¡°How about picking up baseball again? You¡¯re still growing, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    It was a conversation they had had the last time he had been here. And the time before. They had had this conversation over and over for many years now, and it had lost all meaning at this point. It was like the cry of a hill myna.


    Decent.


    It was his mother¡¯s favorite word. Each time Seymour heard her use it, he wondered how she could say something like that. It irritated him and was the reason he was unwilling to return.


    For a little while after that, until he hit the limit of his patience, Seymour spoke with his mother. But, once his patience ran out, he considered all conversation after that pointless and instead knocked back his black tea in one go. It was still so hot that it might have actually scalded his throat.


    ¡°Okay, there¡¯s something I came to pick up. I¡¯ll go see if it¡¯s in my room.¡±


    ¡°I see. I understand. Come to me if you need anything.¡±


    Seymour brought his teacup back to the kitchen before he left the living room. He was fairly sure the sweat running down his spine wasn¡¯t from the heat of the tea he had just knocked back.


    Knowing he¡¯d regret it if he let out a sigh, he swallowed it down and went to his room. The room had been left just as was during his teenage days, back when he still lived here.


    ¡°¡­¡­Now then, I wonder what I¡¯m going to take back with me.¡±


    Seymour stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, looking around at his school supplies, baseball bat, and various other possessions. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to sit down on the chair or bed. It wasn¡¯t his first time that he had brought the conversation with his mother to a close with the excuse of needing to pick up something. And since he had taken something back with him everytime he used the excuse, nothing of value to him remained in this room anymore.


    Looking around the room, he spotted a picture frame on his bedside table.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t the first time he had seen it. This picture frame had always been in this room, and he always felt a strong sense of relief when he saw it, though he would never admit it even to himself.


    He picked up the frame. A single picture had been placed into the crude, wooden frame Sunny had made in elementary school. It showed the child Seymour standing next to his mother with an embarrassed grin, a broadly smiling Sunny,¡­in his father¡¯s strong, military-uniformed arms.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡±


    Seymour jumped when a voice came from behind him. He had completely failed to notice the door opening. It seemed like he had been quite lost in thought.


    When he looked back, he found Lumi standing there. Inside this ordinary house, her presence was even more out of place. Seymour narrowed his eyes at her dream-like appearance. He put down the picture frame, face down, knowing that it would likely be upright again the next time he visited.


    ¡°Yo, something wrong? Where¡¯s Sunny?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Umm, she¡¯s currently packing the clothes for me. So she told me to come find you, Mr. Seymour.¡± Her voice was more hesitant than usual, and right now, in this situation, that had an especially strong impact.


    She kind of looks like she¡¯s trying to imitate a penguin waddle. I guess she must be nervous in a house full of strangers.


    ¡°I see. Still, I¡¯m just killing time here, too. Should we chat for a bit?¡±


    ¡°I suppose, we could¡­¡±


    ¡°I was wondering a while back, but we crossed a river some time ago¡­are you okay, what with being a vampire and all?¡±


    Vampires being unable to cross running water was one of the core limitations of vampires. On the way to his house, Seymour and Lumi had crossed a river.


    Lumi answered the question Seymour had only just remembered to ask, ¡°I hear vampires can cross rivers in coffins, you see?¡±


    ¡°Okay. In other words, my Essex registers as a driving coffin, huh? Not bad.¡±


    Even though he was laughing, Seymour was rather puzzled.


    How do I describe it? Lumi kinda sounds like she¡¯s talking about someone else¡¯s problems. It feels a little fake, like she¡¯s reading off a script.


    Or you might as well say, she¡¯s a vampire like they are in pictures. A vampire who jumped right out of a story. There¡¯s no doubt that Lumi Spike is a vampire, but the fact that such a stereotypical vampire has been living quietly in this world ©¤ even though she¡¯s right in front of my eyes ©¤ is somewhat unreal.


    Since Seymour was silent, it was Lumi who spoke up this time, ¡°Umm, is it okay for me to ask you something as well then?¡±


    Seymour braced himself for a difficult question upon hearing her surprisingly firm tone. Seeing the silent permission in his eyes, Lumi slowly breathed in.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, why are you a courier?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Because I transport things? I receive payment in exchange for delivering their orders?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I mean¡­¡± Lumi¡¯s fingers fiddled around with the hem of his jacket, clearly demonstrating her nervousness. ¡°Mr. Seymour, you¡¯re a human, and on top of that, you have a place to call home. And yet, to be something as dangerous as a courier¡­¡±


    The rest of her comment went unsaid, disappearing with a soft sigh. But, Seymour fully understood what she wanted to know.


    She was a vampire, had lost her home, and was being chased by the mafia. Things that quite naturally led her to her current circumstances. None of those applied to Seymour. He had a proper place to call home. He had a foundation on which he could rely. And as a human, there was nothing troublesome tied to his fate. If he felt like it, he could stop being a courier today, and nothing troublesome would happen because of it. If he had one of those decent jobs, he would have a steady income, be able to show his face in society, and he might be able to lead a much happier life than he did now.


    Or maybe what she really wanted to ask was: Why do people choose to be couriers, hitmen, and join the mafia? For a non-human such as her, it might be incomprehensible why such people existed among humans.


    Seymour could only provide her with an answer to the former question. He had no reason to hide it either. His motivations became cold, dispassionate words, and passed his lips, ¡°You see, I had a father. Though he¡¯s not around anymore.¡±


    ¡°Anymore¡­¡­?¡±


    ¡°There was a war. My Dad was a decent man, had a decent job, and was a decent soldier, so naturally he fought well on the frontlines too.¡±


    If he still had his cigarettes, he would have lit one up. But, his pocket was empty. Instead, Seymour tapped the picture frame next to his bed with a finger.


    ¡°And, well, he died. Despite how decent a man he was, his coffin, which I buried, was empty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in the past now. I don¡¯t need sympathy or anything like that. Even with my Dad dead, I wasn¡¯t troubled in any way. His military pension comfortably secured our livelihoods.¡± With a laugh, Seymour added, ¡°In fact, my life was actually somewhat easier.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why, yes, the reason I became a courier is©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    His father, who had lived a decent life, died miserably at the front. His life, which should have become difficult with his father¡¯s absence, became more comfortable instead. And even though he could only believe that something was very wrong with this, he had nowhere to vent his frustrations in this world where everything had been reduced to individualism. And when he realized this, Seymour Road lost all interest in going to school and getting a proper job, making it impossible for him to keep living in this house.


    After recapping all of this with a few words, Seymour¡¯s lips quirked, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤basically because money isn¡¯t everything in this world.¡±


    Even though that was one of the few things Seymour believed in, it felt rather shallow when he put it into words. Though it was something that he felt he ought to scream so loudly and passionately that his voice gave in, he had already buried all that passion with his father¡¯s coffin. Ever since then, his words were empty, regardless whether he told the truth or not.


    Seymour swallowed down the frustration that threatened to close off his throat with his smile.


    Just then they heard Sunny approach the room. Seymour scanned the room, knowing that he only had moments to decide what to bring back with him, and spotted something good.


    ¡°Oh, right. Are you interested in reading?¡±


    There were several books in a pile on his desk. He grabbed the pile, tucking the books under his arm before Lumi had a chance to reply.


    ¡°Bro! Everything¡¯s ready!¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. We¡¯re coming,¡± he yelled back, and then added to Lumi, ¡°Ms. Lumi, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Seymour tried to leave the room immediately, but before he could, his hand was suddenly grabbed.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    As if mirroring the situation from several hours ago, Lumi had grasped his hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± He asked, looking into her eyes. They were trembling.


    He was well aware that he had spoken about boring, sentimental stuff. And in this city dominated by pragmatism, sentimentality was worth the least of all. If you ever exposed any naivete from your heart, you would only be met with scorn. Because of that, her slightly moist eyes touched an unexpectedly deep part of his heart.


    ¡°U-Umm! Mr. Seymour! Would you stop addressing me so formally?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Huh?¡±


    ¡°I mean, you can speak casually with me. You did save my life. That¡¯s why, please feel at ease around me, just like you are with your family!¡±


    If he was honest, he didn¡¯t really understand why Lumi had suggested this all of a sudden. But, the request was probably her response to Seymour¡¯s words from before. She chewed her thin, well-shaped lips. Noticing that, Seymour realized that he had to answer her quickly, and that he had no reason not to accept a girl¡¯s request to be more familiar with each other.


    ¡°Ah, then, let¡¯s go with that. Would Lumi be fine?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­.gh.¡±


    Even though it was something she had suggested herself, Lumi¡¯s eyes widened when her name was used directly. A scarlet tinge, like an overenthusiastic application of rouge, appeared on her flawless white skin.


    Restlessly looking around, she looked up to Seymour with all the caution of a small animal peeking out of its burrow.


    ¡°U-Umm, I think it¡¯s alright¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay, can you address me more casually as well then, Lumi?¡±


    ¡°W-With a man¡­t-that¡¯s impossible¡­¡­.¡±


    Seymour laughed loudly at Lumi¡¯s behavior, before Sunny¡¯s voice came again.


    ¡°Come on, bro! Can you hurry it up a bit!?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 2 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    There was drama that very night. After visiting Seymour¡¯s family, they had visited all sorts of places, buying almost all the necessities they needed for the time being.


    As the first shadows of dawn peeked through the window, telling the kinfolk of the night to scurry back to their burrows, Seymour felt that it was about time to head to bed. He mentioned it to Lumi as he headed up to his loft. Only to be confronted with her suddenly asking, ¡°But, Mr. Seymour, am I not a bother, occupying your bed?¡±


    He almost reflexively replied with ¡°You bet,¡± but managed to hold it back at the last moment. Waving his hand to dismiss her concerns, he made Lumi sit on the bed, and leaned against the nearby desk. Several tools were dislodged by his butt and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.


    Startled by the noise, Seymour jerked his shoulders together, and then, after calming down, answered, ¡°Having said that, there¡¯s only one bed in here either way.¡±


    ¡°What do you do when your friends come over to stay? You give me the impression that you have many friends, Mr. Seymour.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, well, if I have to choose between many or few, I¡¯d probably say that I have many friends.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t we just do what you usually do then!? I¡¯d feel guilty if I was the only one getting special treatment!¡±


    Lumi probably thought that there was at least one more bed stashed away somewhere, that could be lent out to friends who stayed over. Seymour corrected her misunderstanding as gently as possible.


    ¡°I do have friends that come to stay over, but look, they¡¯re all women, okay?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.? Regardless of their gender, everyone requires a bed to sleep on, right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how it works when a man stays over, but usually, you see, when a woman stays over, you don¡¯t really need two beds.¡± With a flick of his finger, he gestured at the small single bed, ¡°Man and woman are normally entwined on top of one.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­.nh!¡±


    Apparently she understood what he was trying to tell her. In an instant, Lumi¡¯s cheeks were dyed crimson.


    Seymour tilted his head with a grin, ¡°So, you want to do it as usual?¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤That¡¯s indeceeent!¡±


    Seymour¡¯s face was immediately hit by a pillow. He guessed that the clattering and banging sounds he heard afterwards were from Lumi turning over the bed¡¯s mattress after imagining all the body fluids that had seeped into it over the years.


    By the time Seymour removed the pillow blocking his view, Lumi had wrapped herself in a blanket and curled up, looking like a bagworm. Seymour could vividly imagine Lumi¡¯s face scrunched in shame beneath the blanket.


    ¡°Thought so. Good night.¡±


    ¡°Have a good night! And sorry for throwing a pillow at you!¡±


    He smiled wryly at her honest apology, placed the pillow down where Lumi¡¯s head was probably situated, and lightly waved a hand despite knowing that she wouldn¡¯t see it.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    He woke groggily. For a moment Seymour felt as if he had returned to his teenage days. It was a feeling of nostalgia that came from sleeping with his knees squished up against him in the driver¡¯s seat of his Essex. His body remembered the time he had spent on the streets with just this small car as his home.


    His internal clock told him that he had slept for about half a day, making it evening now. Sitting up, he stretched and cracked his stiff neck. The discomfort wasn¡¯t so bad; it was proof that he was alive. And then he noticed that the coldness that usually accompanied getting out of bed was absent.


    There was a knock against the window. Looking outside, his vision was filled with hair that was more transparent than sunlight. Realizing that Lumi was peeking into the car, Seymour rolled down the window.


    ¡°Good morning. Did you sleep well?¡±


    There were two steaming cups of coffee in her hands, indicating that she¡¯d probably made use of the gas stove in the corner of the garage. Seymour extended his hand towards the mug she held out to him, though it was rather excessively slowly since he had a vague fear that the peaceful state he was in, which made the room feel like it had been heated just for him, would be dispelled once he woke up fully.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    However, Lumi apparently interpreted his silence to mean something entirely different. Noticing that she had bent forward towards the window, she quickly lifted her head, pressed the cup in Seymour¡¯s hand, and used her free hand to cover up her chest. With a faint, red tinge on her cheeks, she pulled up the collar of her loose sleepwear.


    ¡°¡­¡­Pervert. Things like that¡­are not allowed.¡±


    The last traces of his peaceful sleepy state leaving him, Seymour smiled bitterly, confident that he wasn¡¯t in the mood for that right now anyway.


    ¡°I was just about to see something stunning.¡±


    ¡°It would have been better for you to have remained asleep, Mr. Seymour, if you are going to say such things.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be a waste. After all, I wouldn¡¯t be able to see your lovely face that way.¡±


    Lumi was openly embarrassed by Seymour¡¯s flirtatious ramblings. He snorted at her innocence, but it was also true that it wasn¡¯t such a terrible feeling.


    Bringing the cup to his lips, he opened the car door, and stretched once more.


    ¡°Looks like my place has managed to avoid exploding overnight.¡±


    ¡°Ehh!?¡±


    ¡°I mean, it was quite possible. That¡¯s what it means to be chased by the mafia.¡±


    If he were to be honest, Seymour would need to admit that a part of him hadn¡¯t expected to wake up today.


    Being told this by an indifferent Seymour leaning on the car startled Lumi. Recalling the cup in her hand just as she was about to start gesturing, Lumi stop herself just in time.


    ¡°B-But Mr. Seymour, you didn¡¯t mention a word of any of this yesterday!¡±


    ¡°Well, the probability of it happening was fairly low. First of all, we don¡¯t know if the other side is even aware of me, right?¡±


    They might have noticed that someone had taken Lumi Spike away, but it wasn¡¯t clear as of yet whether they had identified Seymour Road as that person. The only one who definitely knew about Seymour¡¯s involvement was the wolf-like man, but he had allowed Lumi to get away. It was hard to believe that he¡¯d spill the beans about a courier.


    ¡°Umm, low probability means¡­?¡±


    ¡°The mafia bombs some place every day. The police tolerate that. However, the bombings have been limited to businesses that don¡¯t belong to familia ©¤©¤ trade associations created by the mafia.¡±


    Nominal trade associations had been set up by the mafia ¨C the protection money, which was collected as a membership fee for the trade association, was a source of income for the mafia.


    Seymour raised a finger after noticing that Lumi still looked confused, ¡°¡ºThe shop was blown up because it didn¡¯t belong to a trade association¡». The police can look the other way on this. If you want to know why, it¡¯s because the police don¡¯t need to worry about getting bombed since there¡¯s no familia for them to join. But, ¡ºA private home was blown up because it sheltered someone being chased¡». This is something they can¡¯t look the other way on.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Because then it¡¯s possible that they themselves might get blown up as well?¡±


    ¡°You got it. If bombings start happening due to more and more reasons, the police can no longer shrug it off as someone else¡¯s problem. That¡¯s how this works. In that case, the police would put the screws to the mafia, and the mafia doesn¡¯t want that to happen.¡±


    He dramatically thrust a finger in her face 1 , then leaned back and sipped on his coffee. It tasted pretty good for the cheap stuff, a sign of how carefully it had been brewed.


    ¡°And at present there aren¡¯t any trade associations for couriers in existence. Therefore, blowing up an ordinary person like me, at least on paper, is a huge risk for the mafia.


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤but then again, everything comes down to weighing the advantages and disadvantages.¡±


    The question is why the mafia is chasing Lumi. If the benefits of obtaining her exceed the time and effort of dealing with the aftermath and having some friction with the police, the pursuers might boldly opt for a bombing in the end. Or rather, they should have already chosen that option. In other words, it looks like Lumi¡¯s value to them isn¡¯t all that high,


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Hmm, wait?¡±


    The explosion from the day before yesterday suddenly came to mind. The destroyed remains of that private residence lay clearly before his mind¡¯s eye. It didn¡¯t look like a place of business. It was pretty obviously a private residence.


    The owner of that house was a merchant who did not join a trade association? The destruction of the house itself was part of their objective? Did the need to pursue Lumi change in a short period of time?


    Several possibilities crossed his mind, but none of them seemed to jump out as the answer. He lacked too much information to even make an educated guess.


    ¡°¡­Mr. Seymour?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. For now, let¡¯s get ready to leave once the sun goes down. I¡¯ve still got a job to do.¡±


    The income of one courier job couldn¡¯t be called generous by any standard. It¡¯s often said that there¡¯s no leisure for the poor. Even if I were to take a break from my job, I¡¯d still need to coordinate it with my frequent customers.


    ¡°While I¡¯m working¡­¡­well, I suppose I¡¯ll have you stay at the Holiday. It¡¯s a small, dirty, and rather smelly diner, but it¡¯s safer than being with me.¡±


    In response, Lumi sighed lightly, ¡°A-.¡±


    She lightly lifted a hand, but lowered it right away. Seymour was pretty sure he knew what she was about to say anyway. She was probably worried about being left behind in an unfamiliar place while Seymour went off to another unknown place.


    However, he ignored her feelings on this. Even if she were to be tormented by unbearable feelings of loneliness, Seymour would still head out for work without hesitation. Loneliness was an illness, but no doctor could cure it. On top of that, he couldn¡¯t bring Lumi along with him; confidentiality being key to his line of work.


    Seymour yawned as he thought it all through. ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤By the way, Lumi, are you hungry?¡±


    Hearing the question, she hid the dejection in her eyes with a smile, ¡°It¡¯s okay. Vampires don¡¯t need much food to sustain themselves.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Which reminds me, I¡¯ve never heard you talking about wanting to suck blood or anything like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s not like I have to drink every day.¡± Fiddling with the cup in her hands, Lumi added, ¡°Besides, I can reduce the amount of blood I need if I eat normal meals.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t feel an urge to¡­suck blood?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­let¡¯s see, how do I say this¡­to suck blood, I have to touch and press my lips against someone¡¯s body, so, umm¡­¡± She subconsciously lowered her eyes, her expression reminding him of the first time they met. ¡°How do I put it¡­? These kinds of things¡­they feel really vampiric, don¡¯t they¡­?¡±


    ¡°¡­Do you hate these things?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I mean, my mother was a vampire, too.¡±


    Lumi¡¯s earlier replies hadn¡¯t been fluent. But, there was a pointless fluency to her words just now, as if to emphasize that she had prepared this answer in advance.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Unfortunately, the vocabulary of a courier didn¡¯t include any convenient responsesfor times like these. Not to mention that Seymour wasn¡¯t actually sitting in his car, but was just plain old Seymour Road right now.


    That¡¯s probably why.


    Noticing his speechlessness, a fleeting smile crossed Lumi¡¯s lips, ¡°No, I don¡¯t¡­hate them.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    A merry humming came from the back seat and reached Seymour¡¯s ears. He looked into the rear-view mirror, and cast a smile at Lumi even as he idly thought that she was reflected awfully clearly in the mirror for a vampire.


    ¡°You like them? I was worried what you¡¯d think since they¡¯re old and a bit revealing.¡±


    Noticing him staring, Lumi quickly stopped rocking her legs in time with her humming.


    ¡°No, absolutely not! I can¡¯t even express how thankful I am to receive such cute clothes!¡±


    Lumi¡¯s outfit was drastically different to what she had been wearing a while ago. Her extremely long hair had been parted into two and held with ribbons, and her skirt was now knee-length. That alone had changed the entire impression she exuded from something old-fashioned and anachronistic to something hip and modern.


    ¡°These blue ribbons are truly wonderful¡­my mother used to buy a lot of blue clothes for me, saying that blue suited me. These remind me of her.¡± Lumi stroked her hair as she said that.


    None of the strong, complex emotions she had shown earlier towards the word ¡°Vampire¡± could be seen now. Seymour wasn¡¯t sure whether she was hiding it well, or whether it wasn¡¯t much of a problem to begin with.


    Still, Seymour smiled wryly, the shirt¡¯s collar looks way loose at the base of her neck, and those thick tights only make her legs look all the more too thin. It¡¯s almost unreal how slender they are.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear that. For the time being, since you¡¯re wearing all these, put on the cap as well. Just in case, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    Sincerely nodding at each and every little thing, Lumi put the newsboy cap on her head. The cap would do little to stop her pretty face, silver hair, and golden eyes from drawing the looks of others, but Seymour believed that it was still better than doing nothing.


    Just like that, they arrived at the Holiday. Seymour beckoned Lumi over when they got out of the car, pulling her away as she looked up at the unfamiliar building with keen interest. He knocked against the thin metal door, hearing the clerk shout, ¡°Happy!¡±


    ¡°Holiday.¡±


    A cipher. At least, on the surface.


    The Holiday was a diner that served alcoholic drinks, technically violating the laws. It had been good practice to have ciphers that needed to be answered before entry was granted, though it had lost most of its purpose nowadays.


    Seymour pushed open the door, which wasn¡¯t even locked to begin with, and entered the diner. Lumi followed him nervously. Her fingers were fisted around the trailing edge of his cloak. Feeling like a mother bird leading around its chick, Seymour shook his head. He might have laughed back home, but here Seymour was no more than a simple courier. A fully fledged courier did not thoughtlessly laugh at such things.


    The instant Lumi entered the diner, there was a multitude of whistles, several of which were low while others were loud and clear, directed at them. The tug of her hold on his jacket became a little stronger in response.


    Just as usual, Seymour headed to his seat, second to furthest in, and lightly pulled back Lumi, who tried to sit on the furthest seat, and made her sit on his right side. That was the rule in this place.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Seymour stretched on his seat, ¡°Madela! How¡¯s business going today?¡±


    The usual old woman sitting on her usual chair answered without looking up from the crossword puzzle she was doing, ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°I see! Thank you!¡±


    The clerk, who was standing behind the counter like a decoration, revealed a teasing smile.


    ¡°Welcome. Your companion is quite the looker, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Coffee, please. As hot as possible. What about you, Lumi?¡±


    ¡°P-Please give me the same.¡±


    ¡°¡ºPlease¡»! To think that this word could still be heard in this city!¡± The clerk immediately pushed two big cups of coffee towards them, accompanied by exaggerated gestures.


    Seymour guessed that she had prepared them the moment they entered the diner.


    ¡°So, were there any calls for me while I was out?¡±


    ¡°There were several, but most of them expired when you didn¡¯t take them yesterday. There¡¯s just one case still open. They called a little while ago, but didn¡¯t give any details. If you feel like accepting it, umm, I think you¡¯ve got to wait another five minutes? They were quite impatient, and said they¡¯d come over to ask you in person, so it would probably be better for you to wait in front of our diner?¡±


    As the clerk nonchalantly told him this, Seymour sighed lightly.


    I wish she¡¯d have told me before taking my order, if she knew all that.


    Looking down at his coffee and then at Lumi who had frozen after sipping a mouthful of hers, he silently pushed his cup towards her.


    I¡¯m pretty sure the sweat on her forehead isn¡¯t because of the coffee¡¯s temperature.


    Seymour took out some small change, counted the coins, and placed them on the counter.


    ¡°Oh, right. Please allow this girl here to stay until I come back.¡±


    ¡°Does this place look like a daycare to you?¡±


    ¡°No, I know. It¡¯s a diner, right? Of your place.¡±


    Now that Seymour had indifferently pointed it out, it was now the clerk¡¯s turn to sigh. In other words, Lumi¡¯s safety here was as sure a thing as getting the answer, ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say,¡± when you asked Madela how business was going.


    Of course safety couldn¡¯t be guaranteed if something like a mafia shoot-out took place here, but there was next to no need to worry about vicious pick-up artists or kidnappings of any sort in this diner.


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°I leave her in your care.¡± Seymour stood up.


    He reached for the coat he had put down when he sat down, but Lumi beat him to it, holding it up. He was about to tell her to stay seated, but faced with the abandoned puppy look, he sighed in his mind. Seymour headed out the store, judging that it wouldn¡¯t be a problem for her to see him off, at least.


    As they stepped out onto the street, Seymour spotted a woman running their way. He asked her, ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    The middle-aged client, who had just reached them, scrutinized him doubtfully. She exhaled white clouds as she gasped for breath, trying to recover from the trip she had apparently made on foot, in the absence of a car.


    Seymour was fully aware that he looked like an unreliable teenager, despite his best efforts, and as such felt somewhat irritated at having that reality thrust in face like this.


    ¡°¡­Is it true that you¡¯ll definitely deliver to any place?¡±


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s feasible, yes. It¡¯s a fact that I haven¡¯t failed a single delivery to this day.¡±


    The client wavered for a bit, but lost to her own impatience, retrieving a small package from her bag.


    ¡°I¡¯d like you to deliver¡­¡­.this to my nephew. As fast as possible.¡±


    ¡°Where can I find your nephew? Also, it will make the delivery easier if you have a photo of your nephew.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Mr. Seymour, here.¡±


    Since Lumi was holding his coat out to him, Seymour put his arms through the sleeves. He was just going to get in the car anyway, but he¡¯d feel bad if he rebuffed her polite consideration. Seymour figured that this would be a regular delivery job, but the client¡¯s next words resulted in his eyes widening in shock.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to get on the next ship, and head back to his hometown.¡±


    ¡°Hah!?¡±


    ¡°My nephew, who had been overseas, came back to visit me after all this time, but I completely forgot to give him his souvenir, and then, since I heard that you¡¯d reliably be able to deliver anywhere, I©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Which harbor is it!? When is the ship going to depart!?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the harbor in the upper area. The San Marina. It¡¯s going to depart¡­¡­in ten minutes.¡±


    Seymour pulled up his mental map of the area as he looked down at his wristwatch. At the same time, he recalled the typical traffic situation on the streets around this time of the day. His imaginary Essex raced through the city in the blink of an eye.


    It was quite clear why the woman had come to Seymour. It was an impossible time frame even by car, to say nothing of the fact that she was on foot. You could even say that this woman was lucky to have coincidentally found Seymour at the Holiday at this time.


    She took Seymour¡¯s hand, and asked, ¡°¡­¡­¡­Is it going to make it?¡±


    All things considered, this was going to be a reckless endeavor. Depending on the circumstances, Seymour might get arrested by the police, or worse, his car might get damaged.


    At a glance, the middle-aged woman didn¡¯t look particularly rich. In other words, Seymour didn¡¯t have much hope of receiving substantial compensation for this. As a courier, Seymour reserved the right to refuse any work that did not appear to be profitable.


    Just as Seymour plastered a faint smile on his face, about to speak,


    ¡°¡­¡­If I miss this chance, who knows how many years it¡¯ll be before I meet him again.¡±


    the whispered comment stopped his rejection in his throat.


    These weren¡¯t consciously voiced words, much less an attempt to gain his sympathy. They had merely slipped out as her heart ached with the thought. Her lips were tightly pursed and she was chewing the inside of her cheek. He had barely been able to make out her mumbled words.


    ¡°¡­¡­ Understood. I accept. It will be delivered on time.¡±


    ¡°R-Really!? Umm, sorry for troubling you with such an unreasonable©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Nevermind that. Just hurry and pass me the photo and the present. I¡¯ll leave rig©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Mr. Seymour!¡± Lumi interrupted Seymour who had interrupted his client.


    At the same time, Lumi shoved him from behind, so hard he was actually sent tumbling instead of just staggering forward.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 3 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Before he could ask what was going on, his question was answered by a massive shadow looming over him. A huge slab of metal crashed into the pavement where Seymour stood a moment ago. It was part of a water tank that had apparently been installed on the roof of the multi-storey building.


    It was followed by a thunderous noise, like a gong being hit, then the sound of splashing water. The tank had bounced, cracking the road before it landed in its final resting place.


    The client screamed.


    Seymour caught sight of the tank¡¯s base. There was a clean cut where the base had broken. It was pretty obvious that the tank had been deliberately dropped rather than failing over time. No, ¡ºsomeone¡» had committed a crime here.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour!¡± Lumi yelled once more.


    Her voice, which accompanied her body as it collided with him again, was filled with even greater urgency than before. This time, Seymour immediately knew why.


    After all, a dazzling headlight was hurtling down the road towards them, showing no signs of slowing down.


    A second mafia attack.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Now of all times!?¡± Seymour spat out, snatching the photo and the package from the woman.


    Not even pausing to check the heavy weight in his hands, he left his client in the dust, running off towards his car. Fortunately the client had included a note with the ship¡¯s details. With this he wouldn¡¯t lose his way and end up lost in the big harbour.


    ¡°I¡¯ve accepted the request! We¡¯ll talk about the reward later!¡±


    ¡°Eh, eehh!?¡±


    ¡°Okay, I gotta go¡­¡­also.¡±


    Leaving Lumi at the Holiday was no longer an option. Making that decision in a split second, Seymour tossed Lumi into the back seat.


    ¡°Hold on tight, got it!?¡±


    ¡°O-Okay!¡±


    Lumi keeping her wits about her even as the situation changed by the second was already a big help to Seymour. He jumped into the driver¡¯s seat and pulled the choke lever as the headlights drew ever closer, ¡°Start, start, hurry up and start¡­¡­.!¡±


    It should be alright. It¡¯s a pretty normal day in winter, and we only spent a short while in the Holiday, the engine should still be warmed up from the trip over here. The conditions aren¡¯t bad. It¡¯s just that if the engine doesn¡¯t start now, that car is going to t-bone us.


    His breath caught in his throat, he turned the key with a jerk. The car rumbled to life under him.


    ¡°Yeees, it started!¡±


    Stomping on the accelerator, he roughly handled the clutch. His Essex jolted like it had been kicked in the pants and moved out of the way just before the pursuing red Essex came crashing through. It grazed the tail of Seymour¡¯s car as he hiked up the speed.


    While putting on his gloves with the help of his mouth, Seymour shouted rather unintelligibly, ¡°Sorry, I might not be very careful with my driving today!¡±


    ¡°Just for the record, your driving wasn¡¯t all that careful last time either, okay!?¡± Lumi retorted even as she tumbled in the back seat.


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Either way, we¡¯re in a pretty bad situation. It¡¯s still early in the evening, meaning the roads are going to be packed. And, there¡¯s only one pursuer today. Last time they had five cars, this time there¡¯s only one. Clearly this means that the driver this time around is someone skilled. The car itself is also an Essex. Although they¡¯re different models, they¡¯re not too different performance-wise, so we can¡¯t rely on that to lose him.


    In addition, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Nine minutes left!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to do the delivery!?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask the obvious!¡±


    If I slow down even a little bit, that car is going to plow right into us. Or rather, despite driving an Essex just like us, he¡¯s already bumped us several times from behind.


    ¡°Why is there a slight difference in speed even though we¡¯re both driving the same car¡­bah, now I get it!¡±


    Even as he weaved through the traffic at breakneck speeds, Seymour looked into the rear-view mirror.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s because we¡¯ve got an additional 50 kg handicap.¡±


    ¡°Handicap¡­wait, you¡¯re talking about me!? I don¡¯t even weigh 50 kg!¡±


    ¡°Hoh, how much then?¡±


    ¡°Forty¡­¡­.guh, I¡¯m not telling you!¡±


    ¡®What a nice reaction.


    Seymour¡¯s mind, which had been frantically scrambling to keep up with the situation, somehow managed to settle down.


    Anyway, nothing will be resolved until we can lose our tail. At this rate, we¡¯ll either have a terrible accident on the road, or we¡¯ll get run over the second we stop at our destination. Having said that, the driver of the car behind us is honestly pretty skilled.


    He had been changing lanes constantly for a while now, but even though he made sure to weave at the last possible moment he hadn¡¯t managed to put enough distance between the two cars to do anything.


    Seymour and his pursuer left a trail of bleating car horns as they raced onwards.


    ¡°Now then, I wonder what I should do¡­uh-oh!¡±


    They were approaching a crossroad. Knowing that the pursuer had his eyes trained on them, Seymour decided to pull a feint. He shifted the wheel to imply that he was turning right before whirling the steering wheel to the left all of a sudden.


    A swift turn. Even if the pursuer noticed the fake, they weren¡¯t able to react as quickly and the pursuing car fell about a car¡¯s length behind them.


    The road Seymour chose had two lanes. Seymour took in the other two cars on the road immediately. On the left lane was a black Ford. A white Dodge 4 was slightly ahead of the Ford on the right lane. Seymour narrowed his eyes, realizing that this was a great chance.


    He sped up, passing the Ford on the right. Then he changed lanes, overtook the Dodge on the left, and immediately changed the lane once more, so closely that he could almost feel the two cars brush past each other. The instant his Essex was in front of the Dodge, he stepped on the brake.


    ¡°Kyaa!?¡± Lumi screamed in the back.


    Her head was thrown forward, probably giving her killer whiplash. Seymour could only spare her a brief flash of apology in a corner of his mind. Meanwhile, a loud beeep sounded from behind them. The Dodge 4, which had almost crashed into the back of their Essex had reflexively braked in panic.


    After confirming that the Dodge had decelerated sufficiently, Seymour sped up again.


    ¡°Great, this should settle it.¡±


    Seymour had managed to maneuver the two cars so that they were now almost parallel. With this, the two cars had effectively blocked off the road. There was plenty of traffic in the oncoming lanes too, it would be impossible to overtake them by driving counter to the traffic.


    Fortunately, the road ahead of them was a long straight. All they needed to leave the pursuer in the dust was to accelerate©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°Wait¡­the fuck!?¡± Seymour, who was just about to smoothly increase his speed, was forced to look back at the sound of an engine revving behind him.


    He watched in disbelief as the pursuing Essex pulled a hoon. Glancing off the curb, the pursuer had lifted the entire right side of the car off the road to drive on the narrow sidewalk with just two wheels. Moving surprisingly quickly considering he only had two tires on the ground, the pursuing Essex passed the wall Seymour had created, and returned to the regular road.


    In the next moment, the pursuer tauntingly revved his engine.


    ¡°¡­¡­No way! Give me a fucking break!¡±


    Seymour¡¯s eyes met with the other driver through his mirror. The man wore wine red glasses, and a hat, despite being inside a car. Seymour felt a kind of raw malice from the man, even as the revving conveyed the man¡¯s excitement.


    He clicked his tongue. Seymour suppressed the childish urge to give tit-for-tat welling up in his heart. Keeping as much distance between himself and the pursuer as he could, he dodged the normal cars in his way, and drove on and on.


    Five minutes left.


    If we keep going like this, we should barely make it.


    Seymour made that overly optimistic call as the harbor came in sight in the distance. At this rate they would drive straight into the harbor.


    But, even though you could call it a harbor, it was a general term for a huge area of water, encompassing a coastal section, brackish waters, and even a part of the river. According to the note on the package, they¡¯d meet the river if they continued heading straight like this. If they went upstream from there, they were supposed to be able to find the ship fairly easily.


    We¡¯re going to pull up to the ship right before its departure, and throw the package onto it without stopping. After that I need to come up with some way to give our pursuer the slip, but I¡¯ll have the whole city to figure it out.


    But, his plans were immediately proven to be wishful thinking.


    A steam whistle shook the air.


    In the distance, Seymour could see a ship slowly pulling away. The name carved onto its hull was San Marina. Even though there should still be five minutes before its departure, the ship had already started moving.


    ¡°Shit! They¡¯re way too strict on the time!¡±


    ¡°I-Is there any way I can help you¡­?¡± Lumi asked, having managed to steady herself on the backseat.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m busy here, so could you curse at that damn, unpunctual ship for me!?¡±


    ¡°Hueh? Ah, okay! Stuuupid! Stuuupid! Idiooot!¡±


    ¡°Man, what a limited vocabulary you¡¯ve got!¡±


    What a downer. Even an elementary student would know some harsher words.


    Shooting a bitter smile at Lumi, who was desperately hurling insults at the ship in her very own way, Seymour turned the car to the right. Instead of driving upstream, he drove down to the road following the river, trying to run next to the moving ship.


    Considering the distance, it¡¯d be impossible to throw the package all the way to the ship from this road. But, in a few minutes the ship would probably exit the river, heading out to the open sea. Once that happened, it¡¯d truly be impossible to do anything with a car that needed solid ground to run on.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got one more chance©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He could see a big bridge ahead. An enormous, arched bridge spanning the port, built to cut down the time it took to circumvent the huge harbor. Inevitably, all the ships in the harbor would need to pass under that bridge.


    Even as he plotted their route in his head, Seymour was fervently honking his car horn. The people walking through the port turned towards the noisy sound, and at the same time Seymour could pick up a number of people looking their way from the ship.


    ¡°Lumi, look at the photo! The photo! Do you see that person over there!?¡±


    He heard Lumi checking the package they were given by the client. The harbor street was straight, but there were many people walking around, making it impossible for Seymour to take his eyes off the road.


    A few seconds later, Lumi happily announced, ¡°He¡¯s there! He¡¯s looking our way!¡±


    ¡°Alrighty! In that case©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    We¡¯ll drive ahead, all the way up the bridge, and throw the package down at the ship when it passes below. It¡¯s a pretty rough delivery, but at least the goods will get where they need to be.


    But, just as he was thinking this, Seymour¡¯s car was rammed from behind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤!?¡±


    ¡°Kyaaa!?¡±


    It was their pursuer. Without any regard for his own car, he was trying to ram them off the road.


    Seymour clicked his tongue. Then he clicked it again.


    This is bad. If we¡¯re going to throw the package off the bridge onto the ship, car and ship have to pass the bridge at the exact same time, or we have to stop the car on the bridge to wait for the ship to pass underneath.


    ¡°But I can¡¯t take my foot off the accelerator in this situation¡­¡­¡±


    If we stop, only death awaits us. And even if I don¡¯t stop, if I even drop our speed our pursuer is going to ram us until my car is a wreck.


    Being chased by a driver skilled enough to give him a run for his money, it was beyond Seymour¡¯s ability to drive across the bridge at top speed while also coordinating his movements with the ship.


    Unconsciously his fist hit the steering wheel with a thud.


    ¡°Damn it! What should I do? Fuck! If we miss the bridge, we won¡¯t get another chance to get close to the ship. Should we throw it at the ship from here? No, it¡¯d be a bad idea to not stop the car for the throw. Isn¡¯t there something else we can do©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    You could give up on it.


    A voice whispered in a corner of Seymour¡¯s mind. After all, it was just a single souvenir. Moreover, it wasn¡¯t a high paying job either. And it wasn¡¯t like his guarantee to deliver the goods once the request was accepted was anything more than his own personal standard.


    Even the rule was simply something he had decided himself. It might actually be easier for him if he gave up here. It wasn¡¯t as if people would stop asking Seymour to deliver things over one fairly unreasonable job.


    But.


    There¡¯s a but. And that just can¡¯t be allowed.


    After his father¡¯s death, Seymour had left the home with no goals or aspirations. As such, when he started out as a sham courier, the simple rule of ¡ºdelivering¡» had quickly been established within himself. It was a meaningless rule, but he decided to keep to it. Because if he didn¡¯t, then he would truly have nothing to strive for.


    Just as every car would be lost without the guidance of the traffic laws, Seymour couldn¡¯t exist as Seymour if he couldn¡¯t maintain the rule of delivering. For Seymour Road to continue living, a firm rule, even if it was nonsense, was indispensable. Being a courier defined the existence of Seymour, and if he couldn¡¯t maintain that identity, his existence would become worthless.


    Chewing on his lip, Seymour frantically reviewed his options while time continued to relentlessly tick on.


    ¡°What should I do? What should I do? What should I do©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤?¡±


    ¡°Umm, Mr. Seymour?¡±


    Suddenly, a voice came from behind him, one that was unexpectedly close. Lumi was holding onto the driver¡¯s seat, and had leaned forward to talk to him. The air around her remained perfectly odorless, like an inviolable sanctuary, even though the scent of the sea hung heavy in the air here. Its cleanness streamed into Seymour¡¯s head, allowing him to regain some of his composure.


    Seymour met her eyes in the rear view mirror, silently urging her to speak, so she cautiously suggested, ¡°This is coming from someone who knows absolutely nothing about this, but for argument¡¯s sake, and I really mean it just as an example, if you drove off the bridge with no thought for the landing, would you be able to deliver the package? Would you be able to hand it over?¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Huh?¡±


    Even as he was outwardly stupefied, the calm part of his mind was already considering her suggestion.


    We¡¯ll drive the car off the bridge sideways. In other words, instead of waiting for the ship to pass underneath the bridge, we¡¯ll try to fly over it. A ship headed for the ocean, and a car flying through the air towards that ship. At most, we¡¯d make about ten meters. It¡¯d give us a few extra seconds. That¡¯s all it would get us.


    But, having to stop completely to wait for the instant the ship passes beneath the bridge versus flying through the air towards it, those are two completely different beasts when it comes to timing.


    ¡°In that case¡­¡­it¡¯s probably possible.¡±


    However, no matter what happened, this would all end in a fall. As might be expected, Seymour would really like to avoid having his Essex end up in a watery grave. If he weighed his Essex and his belief inside his mind, his belief would win by a tiny margin, but that wasn¡¯t enough to sway him completely. Such was his current mental state.


    ¡°¡­¡­Mr. Seymour.¡± For some reason, Lumi twisted her body, and opened the window. While rolling up her sleeves, she swallowed and then said, ¡°Could you trust me and drive off the bridge?¡±


    He hesitated for less than a second.


    ¡°Very well, bring it on!¡±


    After confirming the ship¡¯s location in his periphery, he immediately started to shake the wheel, zigzagging down the road like a tire had blown. He did this to adjust their speed to cross the bridge at the right time, but to the guy with the wine-red glasses it would look like they were trying to literally shake their tail, or trying some kind of maneuver to reverse their positions. Either way, he dropped his speed, following them closely without mimicking their movements.


    It¡¯s damn annoying how he reacts so calmly to each and every little thing. But, these extra few seconds he¡¯s allowed us are very welcome.


    Carefully judging the timing, Seymour simulated how they would follow the street up to the bridge over and over.


    Now.


    He accelerated. He straightened out the car and raced down the road before turning left towards the huge arched bridge.


    When we start going uphill, our weight handicap is going to be clear as day, but well, whatever.


    He checked the vicinity. There were almost no cars on the bridge. He checked the ship¡¯s location.


    Right on. We¡¯ll be perfect on time, theoretically. In other words, the rest depends on my resolve.


    But, that was something he had done a while ago.


    ¡°Okay, time to go all in©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    As they drew closer to the highest point of the bridge, he kicked down on the clutch. His rear wheels spinning wildly, he drifted, whirling around.


    Their pursuer assumed that Seymour was going to do a U-turn at this point. Because of this, he deliberately passed the point where Seymour had started to drift, and also spun 180¡ã a little further down the road. He had no need to be impatient, and his logic probably ran along the lines of taking Seymour¡¯s back once again to continue the attack. But, what he actually witnessed after finishing his turn was Seymour¡¯s Essex turning 270¡ã, the car itself ending up perpendicular to the bridge.


    Seymour floored it.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Go!¡±


    The tires shrieked. Seymour clenched his teeth, and the Essex smashed through the fence on the bridge. And then, squarely facing the ship, the car was airborne.


    Seymour¡¯s intestines felt an unstable, floating sensation.


    Is this how it feels to be liberated? To be free?


    Those concepts crossed his mind. Simultaneously Seymour grabbed the package with a hand.


    ¡°I have a delivery©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤y for you!¡± He threw the package through the window as he yelled.


    The package drew a neat arc in the air, one that Seymour was fairly sure would end with it falling onto the ship.


    Yep, fall. They were caught by gravity. Of course it was absolute bullshit, but Seymour imagined their current, rapid fall as the result of the car being hit by a huge, invisible fly swatter. The wintery night sea before him was pitch black; it gave him the impression of a ravine with no bottom. Seymour thought about the car getting totally wrecked, or the two of them drowning.


    And yet, it didn¡¯t feel all that bad. There was the joyous feeling of having completed the request, and besides, he had the vague feeling it would all turn out alright.


    In short, Seymour believed.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Please hold on tightly, got it?¡±


    In the slow motion of the moment, Lumi¡¯s calm voice was as clear as a bell. With that warning, she braced herself against the Essex. With both her feet planted on the floor, she pressed her right hand against the ceiling, and then suddenly©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤thrust her left hand out of the window.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤gh!?¡±


    A violent jerk immediately followed. An invisible, mighty force struck the Essex sideways. It was like suddenly being caught in a tornado, or being run over by an invisible truck. The car¡¯s frame creaked, though Seymour¡¯s body creaked louder. Despite being prepared for some kind of impact, Seymour¡¯s forehead still slammed into the wheel.


    Suddenly he had a flashback. Lumi¡¯s hand as he tried to grab it. His wristwatch being blown away by the repulsive force.


    A lightheadedness, like there wasn¡¯t any blood left in his body. All the blood drained from his face. And amidst all that, he was vaguely aware of the car flying sideways. Flying, or rather, being blown away.


    Even as his vision spun, his body still moved instinctively. That is to say, the instant he felt the sensation of the car landing, camouflaged in the impact, he turned the wheel, and stepped on the accelerator.


    By the time he came to his senses, as if he had briefly blacked out, Seymour found himself on the road next to the harbor. Not in the water, or atop the arched bridge. The feeling of being blown away wreaked awful havoc in his stomach. Pitch black tire marks littered the road.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He hadn¡¯t recovered from the shock. His consciousness was still unfocused and hazy. But, his body still remembered that they needed to move. Even when he was startled by the weird sounds the car was making, his hands remained steady on the wheel.


    Everywhere they looked they received looks of mute amazement back. The owner of the red Essex had remained atop the bridge, likely the same expression on his face. Imagining the eyes hidden behind the glasses wide with shock ¨C whether it was true or not ¨C made Seymour feel really good.


    Driving onwards, he completely shook their pursuer off. Turning several more corners to make sure their pursuer definitely couldn¡¯t find them again, Seymour breathed out deeply.


    With this much of a distance between us, it should be easy to get away. This definitely isn¡¯t going to be the last attack, but at least we should be safe for the time being.


    The black Essex, which had already melted into the city¡¯s scenery, leisurely moved on.


    Seymour¡¯s voice softly broke the silence that had oppressively filled the car. He spoke cautiously, like he was crossing a tightrope, making sure there wasn¡¯t even a hint of malice in his tone..


    ¡°¡­¡­Just now, that was¡­?¡±


    Lumi opened her mouth, and closed it again. As if she had suddenly remembered that she had left the window open, she turned the handle in a hurry. Then, after positioning herself like a lady again, she awkwardly showed Seymour her palm, still trembling like it was numb.


    ¡°Umm, it¡¯s because I¡¯m a vampire.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    One of the most common traits of a vampire. The most popular one right after the weakness against sunlight and bloodsucking.


    Thinking back on it now, that was a harbor with brackish water. Or, more specifically, running water.


    Back there, Lumi Spike ©¤©¤©¤©¤ a vampire had thrust her hand out of the window. A bare hand outside the confines of a car.


    ¡°¡­¡­Vampires can¡¯t cross flowing water?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Yes.¡±


    Once more, silence.


    This time, however, it was a totally different sort of silence. Seymour and Lumi struggled desperately to maintain serious expressions; expressions that would be appropriate considering that they had just survived an attack.


    After all, no, it¡¯s completely unbelievable. Sure, I¡¯ve heard the stories, and her arm did get repelled that other time, but I definitely never thought that weakness was so powerful that it could blow the entire car away with us.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Kuku!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Ahaha!¡±


    They broke at the same time, helpless laughter bubbling out of them. The sweet feeling of completing the request and being liberated from their tension, and above all, the fact that they had accomplished all that with just the two of them filled them with elation.


    In no time, the loud laughter of two people filled the car.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 4 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    He had a dream. In that dream Seymour was younger than now, more stupid than now, and had a niggling feeling that he might actually be a hopeless fool that was beyond all help.


    And, back then, he regarded his car as his home.


    After his father died, he got into his car and just drove, never returning to his family home. He lived his life not going home. As such, it was possible that he had merely thought of his car as home, when in reality he had just been running away from home for several months.


    But, because he eventually ended up renting the garage he lived in right now, he actually did manage to leave home for good, though he did visit occasionally.


    And if you were to wonder what exactly Seymour was doing spending all that time in his car, the answer would be: he observed the city.


    He and his car would drift through the city all day long, stopping on random street corners so that he could just watch people. Well, it was a little more proactive than simply watching, but it wasn¡¯t like he was actively searching for something either. Yes, it was a bit like trying to read a difficult book.


    And in a way, he was trying to read something.


    He hoped that something was written somewhere in this world. For example, how to come to terms with the death of his father, and how irrational it had been. He believed that there had to be something. That the answer was written somewhere, and he simply couldn¡¯t read it because his eyes, his head, or both weren¡¯t up to par.


    Otherwise, it¡¯d be weird. After all, the world had just been through a war, and a tremendous number of lives had been lost on the battlefields. The sorrow collectively felt by the city should be as if Seymour¡¯s own sorrow had been multiplied by the number of stars in the sky.


    And yet, against all expectations, people glorified their everyday lives and appeared, by all accounts, to be happy. People walked the streets, had casual chats in the shade, and enjoyed their food in restaurants. Because of that, he believed that they must have been taught somewhere ©¤ maybe in one of the school classes that Seymour had slept through, or maybe not ©¤ what to do in times like these.


    Of course, he was well aware that this wasn¡¯t true. And although he should know better, he had no intention to stop his life on the road. Even though he understood it intellectually, emotionally he just couldn¡¯t make sense of it.


    Fortunately, he didn¡¯t live in need. A car is, when you get right down to it, a closed, moving room. Because the wall separating people from immorality had collapsed after the war, all sorts of people seemed to desire closed spaces in compensation.


    ¡ºHey, wanna get in?¡»


    It was fine for him to simply call out to a random girl like that. Just doing that granted him a reasonable rate of success. The girls would get into his car, treat him to some food, chat with him a bit, receive some cash, and do what a man and a woman would do in a closed room. It wasn¡¯t bad, being able to rely purely on the fact that he had a car, rather than his name or education.


    The end of his days living, driving, and watching like that came on a very normal spring day.


    ¡ºHey, if ye got some spare time, could ye drive my girl over to mine?¡»


    The one asking him was Michael Touring, a senior from his student days.


    ¡ºYe see, I¡¯m dating this girl right now, but just the other day we found out that her parents¡¯ company and my parent¡¯s company are business rivals. Our parents would be against us going out with each other¡»


    Seymour didn¡¯t remember what he answered. He felt like it was probably something along the lines of ¡ºMan, Shakespeare is so dated, dude¡». But he clearly remembered the expression on Michael¡¯s face that day.


    His passion for her had driven him to ask this of Seymour, despite the awkwardness and embarrassment that was involved, and the joy on his face reflected that. Seymour had always had a strong impression that Michael was the kind of guy who always had a crooked smile on his face and a bit of a nihilist, so he was surprised that Michael could even make an expression like that.


    ¡ºI mean, look, ye got that car of yers. I¡¯d like for ye to bring her to our dating spot so our parents don¡¯t find out. Please! I¡¯ll also pay ye!¡»


    Per his request, Seymour drove Michael¡¯s girlfriend Ms. So-and-so ©¤ he felt like Michael had told him her name but he had completely forgotten about it by now ©¤ to the locations of their clandestine meetings for some time after that.


    His memories about the girlfriend were quite vague. All he really remembered was her bowing.


    From Michael¡¯s point of view, Seymour was an old friend, but she couldn¡¯t possibly say the same. All things considered, she was probably quite reluctant to get in a car alone with a stranger. More so, when that guy was in the middle of running away from home, and lived inside his car like a homeless person.


    For this reason, the girlfriend was terribly wary of Seymour, and Seymour himself had no particular issues with it either. After all, it was reasonable behavior for any woman possessing a somewhat decent set of values.


    Be it on the first, third, or umpteenth drive; she always held onto the handle of her bag tightly and glued herself to the door whenever she got in Seymour¡¯s car. Her posture always indicated that she was ready to jump out of the car, whether it was moving or not, if Seymour made the slightest move or if the car ever turned into some shady back alley.


    Come to think of it, she seemed to be a frail woman, but she definitely had a sharp glint in her eyes ©¤ which reminds me, she might be the reason why I consider my slanted eyes a bad thing nowadays ©¤ and that look of hers was always stabbing the back of my head in the driver¡¯s seat like she was trying to drive a nail into it.


    From the beginning to the end, no normal conversation ever took place between Seymour and that woman. And thus, it was impossible for any kind of relationship to form between them.


    Nevertheless, she always got into the shady stranger¡¯s car for the sake of meeting with Michael, and whenever Seymour took her home, she always bowed to him courteously. Her politely bowing, a short and quick bob of her head, was the only thing he could clearly remember. Because of that, he thought that she was a lovely woman each time he saw the whorl of hair on her head. And each time he saw the smile she directed at Michael, he thought that their love was beautiful.


    In short, this became the first job of the courier Seymour Road. It was completely devoid of any drama, and for that very reason, it was a precious memory.


    He had somehow managed to acquire a somewhat exaggerated title ¡ºcourier who always delivers¡», but it all started with him playing a fake cupid.


    However, Seymour Road believed that this very first job was the most valuable among all the jobs he had done so far ©¤ although it was unfair to compare jobs.


    Maybe Michael did his best, maybe his girlfriend did, or maybe time resolved the issue, but eventually their parents acknowledged them as a couple, and they no longer needed some shady, suspicious guy to act as their go-between. Thus, around the time Seymour finished his first job, he decided to throw his lot into becoming a courier.


    It¡¯s an important truth that I¡¯m no one of importance, and I mustn¡¯t forget my starting point either.


    Probably because of his belief in this, Seymour occasionally dreamed about this first request.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°Hmm¡­.I don¡¯t think there¡¯s an issue.¡±


    Kicking the ground, Seymour slid the trolley and himself out from underneath his Essex, stretched, and grabbed the nearby coffee cup all without getting up. But, realizing that drinking coffee while still laying down would be difficult, he carefully put the cup back.


    ¡°Is¡­that so¡­¡­? I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡± Lumi, who had anxiously waited on the side as Seymour inspected the entire car despite his repeated reassurances, sighed in relief and drew closer.


    Last night, Seymour¡¯s car had been blown across a considerable distance and had experienced a rather significant impact upon landing.


    Under the circumstances, they hadn¡¯t had a choice. Therefore, even if the Essex had come out of it as nothing more than scrap, Seymour didn¡¯t think that he¡¯d blame Lumi, although it¡¯d have put him in something of a bind on how he would continue to earn money. But even so, it wasn¡¯t so bad to experience something like the innate goodness of man like this.


    ¡°I guess there are a few parts that need replacing, like the tires, but they¡¯re all repairs that an amateur like me can handle. The car suffered no major damage.¡±


    Sniffing his hands and grimacing in disgust, Seymour rolled onto his belly on the trolley.


    ¡°Haah, it¡¯s been a while since I did repair work. So tired¡­¡­ Go ahead and eat breakfast without me.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, you must eat something as well.¡±


    The aroma of bread being toasted on a gas burner had wafted over him during his work. Apparently Lumi had prepared French toast. A sugary sweetness, in sharp contrast to the metallic-tasting space, filled the air.


    ¡°Sure, if you say so, that¡¯s fine, but you see¡­my hands are dirty, so I¡¯d like you to feed me.¡±


    Seymour had mostly said this as a joke. Because of this, he was suspicious of Lumi¡¯s intentions when she approached with a plate loaded with the French toast she had made.


    Lumi crouched down in front of him, allowing Seymour a clear look at her white, healthy shins when he arched back and lifted his head.


    ¡°Here you go.¡± Lumi said, in a carefully flat voice as though it would cover up her blushing cheeks.


    In her right hand she held a piece of toast on a fork. Seymour decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly ate what had been offered.


    ¡°Hotch! Schweech! Still, somebody seems to be particularly nice today?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, you were kind enough to help me. Besides, umm¡­¡± Lumi lightly shook her head.


    Her long hair obstructed Seymour¡¯s sight. It still carries the faint scent of the sea from yesterday.


    ¡°¡­¡­Mr. Seymour, you were really cool when you were doing your best to complete the request yesterday, you know?¡±


    Before he could answer, another piece of toast was shoved into his mouth. It was apparently at this moment that Lumi remembered that they only had one fork. She stared at the fork she had just pulled out of Seymour¡¯s mouth, and then awkwardly began to eat her own breakfast. She was bothered by very peculiar things, Seymour thought.


    After chewing and swallowing what was in his mouth, Seymour looked in her direction, his mouth open like a baby bird as he continued to lie there. As if using the occasion, Seymour said, ¡°While you¡¯re at it, you should tell me I¡¯m cool more often, you know?¡±


    ¡°Would it be better for me to bring you a mirror?¡±


    ¡°Ahaha, nice one.¡±


    ¡°How was the French toast?¡±


    ¡°It rocks. So much so that I want to eat it every day.¡±


    ¡°I wonder why your praise sounds so much like empty flattery¡­ Anyway, I¡¯m glad. This is a recipe my mother taught me.¡±


    She always gave off a somewhat happy aura whenever she brought up her mother, and it always caused Seymour¡¯s chest to tighten a bit.


    ¡°By the way, there¡¯s a serious issue we need to talk about as soon as possible.¡±


    Though, even as he said this, Seymour prioritized breakfast. After relaxedly eating another bite of sweet bread from Lumi¡¯s hand, he nonchalantly tilted his head to the side.


    ¡°About your ¡ºsafe place¡».¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Ah.¡±


    ¡°In other words, it¡¯s about where I need to take you so that you¡¯d be ¡ºsafe¡».¡±


    Seeing Lumi about to return to her stiff posture, Seymour silently demanded the next bite of toast. Maintaining a solemn expression while feeding a grown man sprawled on the floor was fairly difficult, and Lumi gave up immediately, holding the fork out towards him with a sigh.


    ¡°Well, having said that, I¡¯ve already got a rough idea.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you do?¡±


    ¡°Lumi, I think you need to leave this city. This city is a mafia den, and you won¡¯t find any peace here, no matter where you go. Conversely, if you leave the city, it should be possible to find somewhere peaceful.¡±


    ¡°You say somewhere, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Broadly speaking, there are five mafia families in this city. And, those five mafia families have pretty much split this city up into five different territories.¡±


    He felt her eyes on him, silently prodding him for more detail, but Seymour ignored her demand by pretending to be caught up in trying to figure out how to drink his coffee lying down. Well, it was a fact that drinking in such a weird position would only result in him choking.


    He coughed and spit up some of the coffee.


    It¡¯s best to not get involved with the mafia.


    If he felt like it, Seymour could expand on his layman¡¯s knowledge of what influence each mafia family held, which families were fighting each other, or how this peculiar metropolis, where five huge mafia organizations competed ruthlessly, was structured, but he didn¡¯t think that it was necessary knowledge for Lumi.


    The city operated on several levels, and each of the levels affected the others but it was impossible to understand the city on a level other than your own. That was the kind of shape this city had taken. And although Seymour, a courier, operated in multiple layers, not belonging to any particular one, he fully understood that it was pointless to sift through mud that had already settled at the bottom of the bucket.


    ¡°You were captured, got chased around, and are now being targeted by some mafia family. In other words, if you reverse it©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°You mean I will be free as long as I stay away from that mafia family¡¯s territory¡­?¡±


    ¡°You got it. That¡¯s the basic idea here.¡±


    Lumi¡¯s immediate reaction to Seymour¡¯s nod was bewilderment. She was confused as to whether she¡¯d really be able to get away by doing something so simple.


    No, even before that, she¡¯s probably been too caught up in the misfortune associated with her birthright. I¡¯ve got no doubt that having the goal right in front of her all of a sudden must seem like a cruel joke after she resolved herself to keep running away for the rest of her life. But, that¡¯s just the way the world works ¨C it doesn¡¯t care about the wishes of any one person. Dramatic lead-ups to the end only happen on cheap, third-rate radio plays.


    ¡°But, that¡¯s something the mafia family chasing me should know as well, right?¡±


    ¡°Lumi, you haven¡¯t conveniently heard a name or something to clue us into which family it is, have you?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I thought as much,¡± Seymour shrugged. ¡°Anyway, don¡¯t worry. If I feel like it, I have a way of figuring out what kind of person has come to hire me.¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡±


    It¡¯s a means I don¡¯t really want to use, though, Seymour added in his mind.


    ¡°I knew it. Mr Seymour, you are amazing and fantastic!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t praise me too much just yet. We don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll work as planned. Either way, as I said¡­,¡± he pulled himself upright then slouched on the creeper, his lips quirking into a smile, ¡°As soon as we learn which mafia family is chasing you, we¡¯ll also know the escape route. The mafia attacks in the last few days tell us that they aren¡¯t that serious about it. I wouldn¡¯t expect them to chase you if we manage to get you out of their sphere of influence. In other words, our farewell is actually not that far off.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Ah.¡± A small exclamation escaped her as her face filled with honest sadness.


    Having a beautiful girl reluctant to part with him made Seymour quite happy. But, her honesty only highlighted how unsuited she was for this city and strengthened his resolve to let her get away at any cost.


    ¡°Get ready to say goodbye. If you leave me with an extraordinary smile, all my efforts will have been worthwhile.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Okay!¡± Lumi nodded assertively, but her face was already scrunched up in gloom.


    ¡°Ah, come on, I really suck at handling such depressing stuff.¡±


    Seymour reflexively ended up searching for words to cheer Lumi up with, though at the same time he felt like it wasn¡¯t so bad having this kind of exchange between them.


    Besides, he thought, yesterday she willingly exercised her nature as a vampire.


    Although she had hidden her bloodsucking, the trait that would most prominently identify her as a vampire, she had still manifested her vampiric nature for the sake of gaining Seymour¡¯s trust.


    I must respond in kind to such complete trust.


    ¡°By the way Lumi, I don¡¯t think there will be any other attacks for a while, and I can¡¯t really say that staying at home or at the Holiday is safe either.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    ¡°So, won¡¯t you come with me while I work?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 5 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°Changed your ways have you, mister?¡±


    Despite hearing the question, Seymour didn¡¯t raise his eyes for a while.


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯re walking around with quite the beauty.¡±


    Standing in front of a small store called Hornsby Cigars, facing the street, Seymour had been flipping through a cigarette catalog while leaning on the counter. He closed the catalog, disappointed after noticing the absence of ¡ºToi Mo¡» in the entries under T. The flavor of those cigarettes had grown on him.


    Having finished, he finally lifted his gaze, and responded with something that had absolutely nothing to do with what he had been asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing bad stuff again, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ll go to hell if you keep doing things like that all the time, Fran.¡±


    He was speaking to a girl ©¤ Fran, or to be more precise, Francina Hornsby. She often worked at this cigar store as a clerk. Seymour had never asked for her age, but it was a fact that her feet swung well above the ground when she sat in her chair.


    But, her demeanor was far from childish. Her murky and dull eyes, the thinly rolled cigar in her mouth, and her black hair roughly chopped to shoulder length in all came together to form a mature air that clashed with her small build.


    Seymour watched a man leave Hornsby Cigars. The customer had been in a deep talk with Fran just moments ago. He had something clutched tight to his chest as he hurried along. It was unlikely to be a cigar box, probably more like a written note that was hidden in his inner pocket.


    This store dealt in several goods besides cigars. One of them was information.


    While shaking her cigar with its sweet, glistening smoke, Fran said, ¡°Mister, didn¡¯t you say something embarrassing like ¡ºA man¡¯s job got to be done alone¡»before?¡±


    Lumi, who had been looking down at something inside the Essex Seymour had parked along the street, noticed his backward glance, and waved at him.


    After waving back at her with a broad smile, Seymour answered, ¡°Well, a lot of stuff happened.¡±


    It¡¯s been a week since the clash with the mafia. After the repairs were finished, Lumi always stayed in the back seat of the Essex when Seymour was out on a job. They had just finished one before coming to this store.


    If pressed for a practical reason, Seymour would say that she was convenient to have around. The amount of work he could finish wouldn¡¯t change whether she was with him or not. Or, more simply, you might say that he enjoyed her presence. It was the first time he had kept any goods meant for delivery in his possession for so long; perhaps that was why he was becoming unusually attached.


    Since it¡¯d be a pain to explain either of those reasons, Seymour shrugged once more.


    ¡°You¡¯ve become quite a popular figure for gossip. Among the ladies aiming for you, and also quite a few others.¡±


    ¡°Just give it a rest, and pass me the cigarettes.¡±


    ¡°Have you chosen which ones?¡±


    ¡°The cheapest ones©¤©¤©¤©¤the ones right above that.¡±


    ¡°I really like how you¡¯re so easy to read, mister.¡± Fran turned over some papers that seemed to be an inventory list with a giggle. And as she picked up several cigarette packs, she casually added, ¡°Also, one small correction. Hell isn¡¯t a place you go to. Heaven is.¡±


    ¡°Remind me again, what school of thought says that no one goes to hell?¡±


    ¡°None. Heaven is a place you go to, but hell is a place you fall into. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t particularly unusual for Fran to spout insights like this. Perhaps it was the fact that she had more free time working in this shop than she knew what to do with, time she could use to philosophize. That, or she enjoyed being able to play a worthless, silly word game since a word from her could usually be turned into cash in hand.


    ¡°If someone aims for heaven, they can only claw their way up on their own. That¡¯s why it¡¯s a place where you go to. But, no one would willingly walk towards hell. Thus, hell is a place into which you fall as punishment for your evil deeds. After all, no human can defy gravity, right?¡± Fran piled up the cigarette packs.


    ¡°All things considered, I think it¡¯s a little strange for you to be saying things like this though.¡±


    Fran appeared to make an attempt at flashing a smile, but ended up coughing sickly instead.


    ¡°Well, by that same logic, it means you won¡¯t fall into hell as long as you¡¯re careful of holes at your feet, mister. And, I make sure to keep my eye out for them.¡± Fran swung her dangling feet.


    As long as you don¡¯t step on the ground, you can never fall through any holes in it.


    Laughing at the childish quibbling, he stacked up the cigarette packs he had bought, and placed a hand on top.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Seymour leaned forward with a feigned nonchalance, ¡°did you look for what I asked you before?¡±


    ¡°This here? You sure have some sudden requests, huh?¡±


    Fran took out a single piece of paper from her pocket. Placing it on the counter, one could see that it was a worn scrap of paper with kinked edges. A scrap that fit easily in the palm of a hand and contained only three pieces of information written down in a mundane font.


    The name Seymour Road, the job courier, and the telephone number of the Holiday.


    ¡°Thanks a bunch. I¡¯ve been thinking that it¡¯s about time for me to get my own telephone. So I¡¯ve been checking where my business cards have ended up so I can change the telephone number on them.¡±


    ¡°Really? So you¡¯ve finally been converted as well, huh?¡±


    He returned the business card, saying that he only wanted to check it, and began to walk away with the cigarettes in one hand. But, before he could take more than two steps, he heard her voice pipe up behind him.


    ¡°Please be careful, Mister. The holes leading straight to hell open at the most unexpected times.¡±


    He waved her off without looking back, smiling bitterly.


    Reaching his car, he opened the passenger¡¯s door, dumped his cigarettes and his coat on the seat, went around to the driver¡¯s side and flopped down in the seat.


    Apparently Lumi had been reading a book. Seymour spotted a spine that used to be in his room back at his parent¡¯s home. ¡ºHey, Al¡» was a comedic novel that had been popular in the past.


    ¡°You like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s funny.¡± Lumi said with a smile in her voice.


    It was a fairly rare sight to see her openly enjoy something, it was quite relieving to see.


    ¡°Did you buy your cigarettes?¡±


    ¡°Mmh, I did, and I also checked a little something.¡±


    Mentally checking off another item on the list in his head, Seymour said all of a sudden, ¡°It took a while, but it looks like I can pinpoint which mafia kidnapped you, Lumi.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Lumi straightened up on her seat, her eyes wide in surprise.


    But it was only to be expected. In the week since he had declared that he¡¯d identify the mafia family targeting Lumi, Seymour had only done his regular work. At the least, that¡¯s what it must have looked like to Lumi.


    ¡°I-Is that so¡­¡­.?¡±


    ¡°Well, since it¡¯s not a particularly impressive thing, I¡¯ll explain the trick real quick. Look, the routes I drive for my job are pretty limited, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Seymour took a business card out of his pocket with a flourish. This one was a lot more crumpled than the one with Hornsby since he had it carelessly shoved in a pocket, but even so, it was barely recognizable as the same sort of business card.


    He smoothly offered it to Lumi.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t registered a company or anything like that. I don¡¯t run any advertisements either. That means that those who know that I¡¯m a courier are limited to those with my business cards and those who found out from the word spread by those who have requested me.¡±


    Seymour¡¯s first job was dropping off his schoolmate¡¯s girlfriend and picking her up afterwards. Later, after that job was over and he had decided to become a courier, Seymour made about a hundred business cards and passed a few to his friend. Michael took those cards and distributed them to his acquaintances, and each time Seymour got a new job, he handed some of his business cards to his new client.


    Those hundred business cards that had been distributed in this manner ©¤©¤ excepting, of course, the good number of them that would have been thrown away or burned ©¤©¤ are surely still making their rounds in this city.


    It wasn¡¯t as though Seymour had expected that his service would become something so shady from the outset. Still, it wasn¡¯t possible to become well known right away so the most stable jobs all tended to be shady.


    ¡°That was the first time that scary man asked me to deliver something. In other words¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re saying that that person probably learned about you very recently?¡±


    ¡°Well, usually there would be no need to know about a bottom-feeder like me. We should probably think of it as him choosing a contractor that would let you get away, Lumi.¡±


    This was why Seymour had begun to check on the whereabouts of his business cards. Handing over his business card was the quickest way to recommend Seymour. Besides, even without tracking the specific movements of the cards, just grasping their rough distribution was enough to suggest some leads.


    It was only after Seymour told Lumi that he would soon have an idea of a destination for her escape that he noticed that her eyes were cast downwards. Seymour tilted his head in confusion; he had thought that this would be good news for her.


    ¡°I beg your pardon. I¡¯m sure that this must be a rather dangerous endeavor for you, right Mr. Seymour?¡± Lumi said softly, like she was scared of touching on a raw nerve.


    She¡¯s a sharp one, Seymour subconsciously clicked his tongue. Naturally, searching for the business cards he had distributed in the past was a dubious move that had raised the suspicions of more than just Fran. Even the excuse he had hastily given her might not be enough to counteract the suspiciousness of the act itself.


    ¡°Nevermind that.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Cleverness isn¡¯t much of a virtue in this city. No, let me rephrase, anything can become a virtue or weakness in this city. So I think it¡¯s better to think carefully about when you ought to be clever.¡± Since Lumi didn¡¯t lift her head despite his comment, Seymour added, ¡°It¡¯s smarter to think about what kind of city you¡¯d like to escape to. Is there anywhere you¡¯d like to go?¡±


    The question allowed Lumi to shift her gaze. Her eyes absentmindedly stared out of the window. She had a look on her face like she was searching for a place that didn¡¯t exist. It was the same look she had on the day they met.


    ¡°¡­¡­A place with a beautiful, sandy beach would be nice.¡±


    ¡°Hee, I would¡¯ve thought that a vacation at the beach would be the last place a vampire would want to be.¡±


    ¡°Mum and dad met on a sandy beach, I heard. Mum told me a lot of stories from her memory when we lived in the mansion. That¡¯s why, at some point, I also started to yearn for an endless walk along a pretty beach.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great. Let¡¯s look for a city like that then. It¡¯ll be alright. I¡¯m a courier who¡¯s never failed at his job after all. I¡¯ll definitely deliver you.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sure it must be lovely to walk in a place like that in the twilight.¡±


    A crimson sky and a white beach. And a girl walking the boundary between land and sea forever and ever, white hair streaming behind her. It was an impossible scene, and that was precisely why it was beautiful. Lumi¡¯s words were filled with nothing but longing for that impossibility.


    I think I should get the car moving soon. Seymour extended a hand backwards to retrieve his business card.


    ¡°¡­¡­Umm.¡±


    But, it wasn¡¯t a small piece of card that touched his hand. Instead, soft slender fingers gently brushed the back of his hand, only lightly pressing down.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, won¡¯t you go on a walk with me someday as well?¡±


    He could faintly feel her pulse and body temperature through the fingers connected with his hand. He considered taking a peek at Lumi through the rear-view mirror, but refrained. With only his hand extended backwards, he imagined it for just a short moment, the lovely scenery with this girl next to him. He¡¯d leave this town with her, live in some city somewhere, and go on walks with her. Even if it was no more than a dream borne from her momentary loneliness, he felt like it was worth holding on to.


    But, in the end, the words that actually left Seymour¡¯s mouth were: ¡°Whatever city you choose, I¡¯ll take you there. ¡­¡­Let¡¯s think about the rest when we get there, okay?¡±


    He quickly pulled his hand away from Lumi¡¯s.


    Before he had noticed, he had left home, and before he had noticed, he had become a courier. Even though his life hadn¡¯t amounted to much, he felt extremely hesitant to give up on it. He felt as if he was making some kind of mistake. If he had properly continued his schooling, perhaps he might have a name for this feeling.


    Seymour sensed that Lumi was nodding behind him and wondered whether he should ask Sunny about it the next time they saw each other.


    ¡°Okay, by all means, let¡¯s go together, alright?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 6 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°Thanks for all your work. Please deliver this.¡± A regular mafia customer, the Oriental man with sunglasses, forced a small package on Seymour.


    From the aroma that escaped the packaging, and the quiet rustle when shook, the package contained tea leaves or something like that. Today he had delivered ¡ºToi Mo¡» again.


    ¡°Thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry ¡¯bout it. Trustworthy contractors are a rarity in this city. Ain¡¯t it a sweet deal if you can buy good will with just a lil¡¯ bribe?¡± The man laughed loudly, and left with the cigars in hand.


    Seymour pressed his nose against the package, staying like that for a while. A strong, medicinal fragrance filled his nose. Usually he wouldn¡¯t stay at the location of a delivery, regardless of whether or not he had another job lined up. It was better that way for his client and for himself. However, today he didn¡¯t drive off right away, and instead, cracked open the window. The wind carried the night¡¯s air into the car.


    Moments later, the sound of many flapping wings reached his ears.


    ¡°Welcome back.¡±


    A cloud of bats entered the car through the open window. As if being guided by an invisible hand, the animals gathered unnaturally on the back seat and dogpiled onto one another. When several hundred of them had become one big lump, the pile began to move, squirming and stretching to reveal Lumi between one moment and the next. From black bats to a white girl. It was like watching the light break out from within the darkness.


    ¡°I am back. I also finished the delivery.¡±


    ¡°Were you seen?¡±


    ¡°No one in their right mind would expect bats to carry around packages.¡± Lumi covered her mouth, giggling.


    Some of the jobs that Seymour accepted did not require the courier and the recipient to meet; sometimes it was better for both parties to avoid contact entirely. In other words, it¡¯d be no problem if someone other than Seymour did the job as long as they weren¡¯t exposed.


    For jobs like these, Lumi, who could transform, was perfect. Thanks to her, Seymour has more than doubled his efficiency.


    ¡°But, are you really okay with not receiving a reward? I mean I wouldn¡¯t be able to give you the whole payment since I¡¯m the one accepting the jobs, but you¡¯ve done a good part of the work as well, Lumi. Should I give you a share of the payment from now on?¡±


    ¡°I have only troubled you so far, Mr. Seymour. Besides, you are also putting a roof over my head and giving me food.¡±


    ¡°Aside from the matter of accommodation, I¡¯m not sure I can agree with the part about the food.¡± Seymour smiled bitterly while starting the car.


    Ever since Lumi had started to live in his garage, the quality of his meals had improved significantly. When he looked in a mirror, Seymour could see the obvious change in his skin and physical condition.


    When Seymour shifted his attention to the back seat, Lumi was leaning against the window, her eyes blankly looking out at the city. She always did this when she was in his car.


    ¡°I guess I should improve my service at least then. What do you want to eat today? I¡¯d feel bad if I had you make it like you usually do, so how about we eat out?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I heard about a delicious meatball restaurant when I was at the Holiday today! If I remember correctly, it shouldn¡¯t be too far from here!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re unexpectedly fond of junk food, Lumi.¡±


    Though her appearance was one that made people think that she could subsist on carrots alone, she was actually quite a big eater. Maybe she couldn¡¯t get as much energy out of normal food as a vampire, or maybe it was just her natural constitution and completely unrelated to her race. Either way, it wasn¡¯t rare for her to wolf down portions bigger than those of Seymour in little to no time at all.


    In addition, all the food she made herself was so healthy that you could actually list it in books for home-cooking, but when it came to eating out, she was just like the random delinquents hanging out all over the place.


    ¡°Mother hated eating out¡­¡­ I like the dishes she taught me, but every once in a while I get the urge to eat something different. It¡¯s not like I only have food like that, okay? I mean it!¡± Lumi objected energetically to Seymour, who hadn¡¯t even meant it that way, her cheeks dyed crimson.


    Her franticness was strangely comical, causing Seymour to burst into laughter.


    Following the directions from the back seat, he maneuvered them through the city, and then parked at the side of the road after about 15 minutes. Today was one of those days where clouds hung low in the sky, and faint gunshots rumbled like distant thunder throughout the city.


    Lumi had her hat pulled low over her eyes, letting Seymour lead her after stepping out of the car. Although she seemed to have grown accustomed to the looks people directed at her, it was already a habit for her to maintain a grip on Seymour¡¯s clothes. Today her long hair, which she had bound into a single braid, wagged like a dog¡¯s tail.


    Seymour addressed the slight weight dragging on his coat, ¡°If there¡¯s something you want, tell me as soon as possible, okay?¡±


    ¡°This time it is ¡ºas soon as possible¡» and not ¡ºat any time¡»?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect to rely on my self-restraint. Any money I have to spend will quickly go on its way.¡±


    Although the rate of completed jobs should have actually gone up thanks to Lumi¡¯s assistance, the difference in his earnings wasn¡¯t actually big enough for him to build up any savings.


    ¡°¡­¡­It might be better for me to stay in this city until you become able to lead a proper life, Mr. Seymour.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a no on that one.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t all that rare for Seymour¡¯s mouth to move before his brain could. But, he felt that his reply had been quite forward all things considered, and he was honestly somewhat surprised to hear it despite being the speaker. Lumi seemed to share his surprise.


    ¡°Eh¡­¡­.?¡± Her voice contained no small amount of confusion and disappointment.


    Just for a moment, Seymour wondered why he had denied her. But, even as he was deciphering his thoughts, his mouth continued to flap without concern.


    ¡°No good will come out of staying with me.¡±


    With that, she should understand how things are.


    ¡°N-No way¡­¡­ Mr. Seymour, you¡¯ve always been a big help to me, you know?¡±


    ¡°You make it sound more significant than it is. Sure, I saved you, but it won¡¯t be good for you to stay with me in the future. That¡¯s an indisputable fact.¡±


    Lumi who had been dragged into this city¡¯s underworld due to some absurdity, and Seymour who had willingly chosen to become a courier. Two people who would never have met under normal circumstances.


    Seymour was aware that he had sounded unusually hard and cold-hearted, but it was a necessary rejection.


    For a short while, there was only a stifling, heavy silence between them.


    When Lumi next opened her mouth, her voice was unnaturally cheerful. It was a pitiful attempt to change the atmosphere.


    ¡°Ah, Mr. Seymour! Over there, what is that?¡±


    From the pull on his coat, Seymour knew that Lumi had stopped. Taking Lumi¡¯s words as a cue, Seymour returned to using his normal tone, like the exchange earlier had never happened.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    When he looked back, he found Lumi staring at a general store along the street. It was a snugly store that mainly dealt with imported, miscellaneous goods. Clothes and accessories were piled high on a wagon that actually protruded out onto the street.


    Seymour looked back at her, clearly waiting for her to indicate which items had piqued her interest and causing her to lower her eyes, obviously feeling ashamed over allowing her curiosity to show on her face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think this blanket is rather gorgeous?¡±


    ¡°The checkered one? It looks warm, but we¡¯ve already got a blanket back home already, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°That oil-stained cloth you call a ¡ºblanket¡» would generally be described as trash by society.¡± Her manner was gentle, but her words were razor-sharp. ¡°Mr. Seymour, I¡¯m sorry for bringing this up right after our previous talk, but let¡¯s buy the red blanket.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but¡­¡­you¡¯re going on a journey soon. Isn¡¯t a blanket like that going to be hard to carry around? It looks rather bulky?¡±


    The blanket, which had been made with lots of fabric, seemed big enough to be a tent. Even folded, it¡¯d probably be quite the burden for Lumi to bring to some far away city.


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯d like to leave it in the garage. Let¡¯s think of it as a good opportunity to replace the blanket, okay?¡±


    ¡°In that case, any color other than red would work. That bright red doesn¡¯t really suit my tastes.¡±


    The blanket, which combined white and burnt brown with a bright red reminiscent of the flames in a fireplace, was clearly suited for girls. Lumi would definitely make a great picture wrapped up in that blanket, but Seymour was sure he¡¯d simply look ridiculous in the same position.


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡­.¡±


    In response to Seymour¡¯s words, Lumi approached the store with a considering hum. She picked up several of the blankets placed on the wagon, unfolding them and looking at them against the light. But, in the end, she grabbed the red blanket she had pointed at in the very beginning.


    ¡°No, let¡¯s go with this one after all.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re awful. Do you want to humiliate me so badly?¡±


    When Seymour shook his head and winced dramatically, Lumi laughed with a throaty, ¡°Nfufu.¡±


    She hugged the blanket to her tightly, like she wanted to mark it with her scent and smiled even wider.


    ¡°I mean, if it¡¯s a blanket that you would definitely never buy for yourself, you will always be reminded of me whenever you use it, no matter how much time passes, right?¡±


    After gazing into her golden eyes for a while, Seymour lifted his hands in surrender.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    It was noon when he was startled awake the next day.


    The garage that Seymour called home was thoroughly decorated with rust from the salty air, creaking with every action. The screeching of the shutter was especially challenging for one¡¯s ears, and the shutter itself looked like it could lose the fight to corrosion at any given moment. In short, even the slightest movements would result in ungodly amounts of noise.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Mmh.¡±


    It was that familiar scraping of metal that had made its way to Seymour¡¯s ears just now. He recognized it even through the drowsiness of his sudden awakening.


    The sun still hadn¡¯t started its journey to the west yet. He had worked during the night yesterday, so he slept through the sunrise today. And then, someone opened the shutter.


    No, it wasn¡¯t just anyone.


    It was Lumi Spike.


    ¡°¡­¡­!¡±


    Seymour jerked up, and opened the door of the Essex which had totally become his bedroom recently. Climbing the ladder to his loft, all he found there was an empty bed. The blanket they had bought yesterday evening was also gone.


    He ducked under the half open shutter and headed outside. He could only wonder what had drawn Lumi outside.


    The sun was hidden behind thick clouds, and the sky looked as though it would unleash a dark depressing downpour at any given moment. Well, at least Seymour could rest assured that Lumi would not burn to death in the sunlight. At the same time, he looked left and right. He didn¡¯t know where she had wandered off to, but even though it was cloudy today, it was still daytime. He couldn¡¯t believe that she¡¯d go too far when the risk of the sun appearing was so great.


    And then, just as he guessed where she was probably headed, his ears caught on a faint crying voice.


    ¡°This way, huh?¡±


    A wide river flowed behind the garage. The riverbank, covered by concrete, continued on and on for a long time. And, there were many dried out sewage outlets that gaped along the bank.


    Moving towards the voice, Seymour slid down the concrete slope towards one of the outlets. The pipe was big enough for him to walk inside as long as he crouched. Inside the pipe, which never saw any sunlight, the air was cold, but dry. And here he found Lumi.


    He couldn¡¯t see well in the darkness, but he could never mistake that white hair for anything else. In order to avoid touching the mess of rotting leaves in the bottom, Lumi had pushed her back against the wall with her spine following the curve of the walls and her head hanging down. The red blanket completely covered her body.


    And, on top of that, red eyes. The whites of her eyes, but not the pupils, were bloodshot. Her eyes were awfully puffy; she had obviously been crying for a fairly long time.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour thought about saying something, but in the end simply drew close to her without a word. Even though he knew it would be a tight fit, he tried to mirror her and leaned against the sewer wall. It was actually pretty soothing to feel the cool concrete absorb his body heat right after waking up.


    ¡°What have you been up to?¡±


    ¡°The cats are¡­¡±


    ¡°Cats?¡±


    Looking intently further down the sewer, he spotted several cats. A mother was curled around several sucking kittens. The kittens thrust out their paws, frantically burying their heads in their mother¡¯s belly.


    ¡°They¡¯re cute, aren¡¯t they?¡± Lumi said, breaking into a smile.


    It gave Seymour something to think about.


    The quality of the milk from the mother cat is different depending on the location of the nipple. In short, the kittens are struggling for their lives over there. They¡¯re fighting and competing for the best places to get milk. This only looks cute because she¡¯s looking at it with human eyes.


    Even a person who disapproves of mafia gunfights, which essentially boils down to the same life and death battle the cats are fighting, can smile at the sight of a cat nursing. The difference between cats and humans, these two beings, is that one of them is allowed to laugh at the other¡¯s desperate struggle for life.


    Seymour wondered whether he should bring this philosophical topic up, but abstained. Besides, he knew that she wasn¡¯t here to visit the cats anyway.


    ¡°What have you been up to?¡±


    When he repeated his question, a shadow fell on her eyes.


    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m sorry. Occasionally I feel lonely.¡±


    No matter how brightly she laughed usually, Lumi was still a girl who had just recently lost her mother and was being chased by the mafia. Maybe Lumi had spent many cloudy days like this and Seymour had simply not realized.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear the first part. I understand the second bit, though I can¡¯t say I relate.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this place cold?¡±


    ¡°I wonder.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s cold, right?¡±


    Lumi sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of it than posing a question to Seymour, and took the two steps to close the distance between them. Then she put her arm around Seymour¡¯s body, wrapping him up under the red blanket with her.


    Seymour and Lumi¡¯s bodies were touching each other underneath the piece of cloth. Lumi¡¯s nightclothes were plain, and her upper arms bare. Seymour briefly considered whether or not he should point out that her body was quivering.


    In the end, he just said, ¡°Yep, it¡¯s cold.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 7 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 2.8

    Silence reigned.


    If she idles around in a place like this, the sun will come out sooner or later and returning to the garage will be impossible.


    Seymour analyzed the situation thusly, but none of that mattered right now. He grabbed her hand to reassure her that he would stay with her and she didn¡¯t need to worry. He squeezed her fingers to stop her trembling.


    He might have squeezed a little too hard, since Lumi jolted at the force, but she didn¡¯t try to shake his hand off.


    Her breath left her in puffs of white.


    ¡°I feel loneliest when sleeping. Even dreams don¡¯t visit me at night anymore.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t feel lonely because you see dreams of what you¡¯ve lost?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m lonely because I can¡¯t even see what I¡¯ve lost in dreams anymore.¡±


    Forgetting and moving on; those two are indispensable if you want to keep living. At least that was Seymour¡¯s idea of a consolation while at the same time laughing at himself for being such a huge hypocrite.


    He focused on her slow, gentle pulse as it thumped through their entwined fingers.


    ¡°Umm, Mr. Seymour.¡± Lifting up the blanket with a rustle, Lumi hid most of her face. ¡°¡­¡­Could you sleep with me?¡±


    Seymour reflexively interpreted the deeper meaning behind her words. And just as he was trying to figure out how to decipher her motives before agreeing to anything, Seymour became aware of the fact that he was actually giving the idea serious thought ©¤©¤ surprisingly so.


    ¡°I¡¯d really prefer if you didn¡¯t test the limits of my self-control too much. You might just be asking for a teddy bear to guard you against loneliness, but I¡¯ll become a live bear if pushed, you know?¡±


    The tips of Lumi¡¯s ears peeking out of the blanket became bright red. Apparently she could imagine what that entailed very vividly.


    Of course, she probably hadn¡¯t thought of that when she invited him. Or rather, his words tended to be a little bit too direct for an innocent girl like her. Just as he was about to take them back before things became too awkward between them, Lumi beat him to the punch.


    ¡°¡­¡­.I-If it¡¯s j-just a bit, I¡¯m f-fine with it, okay?¡±


    How far does just a bit mean?


    Seymour did his best to swallow down those words that he had barely stopped from leaving his mouth. It seemed to him that he¡¯d hurt their relationship for real if he had voiced that thought. He somehow resisted tracing the line of Lumi¡¯s body with his eyes.


    Seymour shook his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s better to stop with this a bit business.¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re right¡­I guess. Y-You wouldn¡¯t w-want to do s-something like that with something like me, would you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the issue here.¡±


    He looked at the outside world, demarcated by the circle of the sewer pipe. Even though this place couldn¡¯t be described as sanitary by any stretch, the scenery outside with one multi-floor building placed right against the next felt much dirtier to him.


    ¡°How should I describe it? I can make a move on anyone, but for me you¡¯re the only person that has inherent value.¡±


    ¡°Inherent value?¡±


    Having become terribly embarrassed, Seymour added quickly, ¡°It just means that I want to act cool every once in a while as well.¡±


    He bent forward and kicked off the wall. Since their hands were still connected, Lumi followed as well when he pulled. They started to walk awkwardly, trying not to fall since both were still wrapped up in the blanket.


    ¡°If you feel lonely, I¡¯ll hold your hand until you fall asleep. I can compromise that much at least.¡±


    Lumi looked skeptical for a short while, but eventually managed a smile. It was far meaner than usual, but still very charming.


    ¡°I guess I have no choice. In exchange, please hold my hand tightly, okay?¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve mostly solved it.¡± Seymour muttered as he stared at the memos strewn before his eyes.


    They contained the information he had gathered over several days. It included the current owners of his business cards, and the people who the card holder¡¯s had given Seymour¡¯s telephone number to.


    Of course it wasn¡¯t as though he knew the whereabouts of all his business cards, even if there were only a hundred of them around. And seeing how his telephone number was also being passed around by word of mouth, there was no way he could figure out all the people who knew about Courier Seymour Road.


    However, he already had plenty to work with here. Seymour extended his hand while sorting the information in his head. He grabbed a cup filled with rippling hot chocolate that was still faintly steaming.


    Ever since he was young, he liked drinking hot chocolate. The only thing that could possibly be construed as cooking in his everyday life was how he carefully made hot chocolate and added crushed cardamom to it.


    ¡°Mmh, great.¡±


    He fell deeper into his thoughts as the sweetness spread on his tongue.


    The five big mafia familia all had their daggers drawn. Of course, whether they were on good terms in the eyes of the public was a valid question, but in reality, they were all in conflict.


    Thus Seymour¡¯s information contained nothing but hearsay. It was easy forSeymour to be recommended within a single mafia familia, but it was naturally difficult for his information to spread to different familia.


    In other words, having a few samples was enough.


    Since he roughly remembered the amount of work he had done for each familia so far, he could also imagine how the information about him had spread. The number of mafia familia that had offered Seymour jobs was one or two, but definitely not more than three.


    When he traced the business cards¡¯ whereabouts, only some were connected to the mafia. If he knew which familia his clients belonged to, he could eliminate some familia from the list of people who might be chasing Lumi.


    ¡°I have connections with the Blood Famila and the Mollini Famila.¡±


    For the first time, he had a grasp of who had been the source of his jobs. He also supposed that the wolf-like man would inevitably belong to either of those two familia.


    Seymour pictured the map of this country in his mind, forcing himself to not remember it so that he¡¯d be able to forget it right away. Of course he didn¡¯t know the layout of the country in as much detail as he did the city, but he was vaguely aware of which cities were outside the sphere of those two familia¡¯s influences while also being close to the ocean.


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    But he halted that train of thought immediately. Personally, he wouldn¡¯t mind deciding on one place now, but he thought it might be better to do so after talking the options over with Lumi. They might end up coming to the same conclusion anyway, but that was the very reason why going with this method would bear more significance.


    At this point, he sensed Lumi stirring in the loft.


    ¡°¡­¡­!¡±


    Seymour stood up in a hurry, downing the hot chocolate in one go, and cramming the cup into the sink in the corner of the garage. At the same time, he used his left hand to toss the cocoa powder and cardamom in a toolbox.


    Just as he picked up the coffee powder, Lumi¡¯s face popped out of the loft.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Mornin¡¯. Want a coffee, too?¡± Seymour greeted her with a winning smile, making sure not to give the slightest hint of enjoying the sweetness of his hot chocolate just seconds ago.


    He couldn¡¯t quite explain why, but he felt like a guy who worked as a courier by himself and lived in a place like this would look less cool if he was caught habitually drinking hot chocolate. For this reason, he always ©¤ even before Lumi started living here ©¤ drank his hot chocolate somewhat sneakily. In the first place, she didn¡¯t even know that such a sweet drink was hidden in the garage.


    ¡°Were you able to have a nice dream today? Also, I will brew it. Otherwise I would feel bad about imposing so much on you.¡± Lumi easily climbed down the ladder, something she had now grown accustomed to doing.


    It was a fact that the coffee she diligently prepared was definitely tasty ©¤ or rather, Seymour actually didn¡¯t really like coffee all that much ©¤ so he readily yielded the task to her.


    Seymour had nothing left to do, so he headed to the shutter, raising it just enough to duck under and not let any sunlight through to Lumi.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s a newspaper for me today?¡±


    An orphan called Ben, who lived in the neighborhood, would leave the newspaper at his garage on the days he managed to find one. As thanks, Seymour would toss a few coins into the old cup in front of his garage. Ben would come and pick the cup up sooner or later.


    As he scanned through the newspaper while waiting for the coffee, he clumsily stuffed a cigarette between his lips. Holding the newspaper with one hand, he groped for his matches with the other.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    At that moment, Seymour saw it. The match fell out of his hand, and the piece of wood that had burned brightly a moment ago became black and dirty the instant it touched the ground.


    His heart thumped in a way he didn¡¯t like at all.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤This is¡­¡±


    The newspaper¡¯s front page reported the death of a single man. A man who, upon being discovered yesterday, murdered, was now nothing more than a string of characters in today¡¯s paper.


    Isaac Nigel. The man was apparently a member of the Blood Familia¡¯s upper echelon and was famous for being a hawk in his younger days. These days he had exerted his influence on the city from an undisclosed location.


    Seymour learned all this information just now. The man¡¯s name and career was something he got to know for the first time through this article. The news story about his death had obviously been printed in quite a hurry; it didn¡¯t even include a photo of the deceased. Because the newspaper was always filled with the deaths of strangers, the death itself didn¡¯t draw Seymour¡¯s attention. Neither was it the name.


    Coincidentally, the front page also had a photo of the murder scene ©¤ in other words, Isaac Nigel¡¯s home. Of course the corpse had already been carried out, and all you could see on the photo was furniture, blood, and smaller articles scattered about. Among the chaotically scattered accessories was a cigar package.


    ¡ºToi Mo¡»


    Seymour had seen the brand name on the cigar package. It was such a vivid blue that it stood out even on the monochrome page. It was a rather characteristic package, and they were also the cigars Seymour had always delivered.


    The brand was unusual enough that it wasn¡¯t even recorded on the shop¡¯s list.


    ¡°Don¡¯t realize.¡± Unconsciously, Seymour said this aloud. ¡°Don¡¯t realize, don¡¯t realize.¡±


    Seymour had just recently learned that he often received jobs from the Blood Family. Seymour had gotten the job when he had just started as a courier, and had delivered them for a long time. He remembered quite clearly that those packages were valuable cigars by the name ¡ºToi Mo¡».


    And right now the mafia man, who had smoked those cigars, had turned into words on the newspaper in Seymour¡¯s hand.


    He broke out in a cold sweat.


    ¡°Don¡¯t realize, don¡¯t realize, don¡¯t realize, don¡¯t realize, don¡¯t realize.¡±


    He was a mafiosi who had managed to conceal himself all the time. Yet, he was suddenly dead.


    Someone had disclosed his location. ¡ºToi Mo¡» was the cigar brand liked by Isaac Nigel. It was one of the very few points of contact between the world and the man in hiding.


    As for those who would know about that fact, Seymour himself would be the very first on the list. The courier who brought the cigars to the man in question.


    And the next person would be the girl who had recently started to accompany that courier on his jobs after coming to live with him.


    ¡°¡­¡­gh!¡±


    When he tried to open the shutter, Seymour slipped and bumped his shoulder against it. The rusty metal creaked and cluttered loudly. Ignoring the pain, he stood up on the twisted foot, and opened the shutter.


    ¡°Huh? Mr. Seymour?¡±


    Lumi held two cups inside the garage. Her usual, gentle smile on the lips. Standing there with her back straight. Her frail arms and legs would convince anyone that she was completely incapable of violence. The wind that blew through the open shutter into the garage heaved up her white hair.


    Lumi narrowed her eyes. Probably because of the sudden gust of wind, or maybe because she saw the newspaper in Seymour¡¯s left hand. She tilted her head in confusion, not giving any indication of knowing what the article on the front page said.


    Her translucent nape was seductively exposed. And then her smile deepened. Deepening, deepening, widening, as if tearing her cheeks apart. Slowly but clearly, Lumi¡¯s lips formed words.


    ¡°So, were you able to have a nice dream?¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 3.1

    Seymour reflexively got up when the phone rang. However, it wasn¡¯t him, but a regular customer who the clerk called after she put down the receiver.


    ¡°May, you¡¯ve got work. I noted down the details, so please take a look.¡±


    Seymour heard May ©¤ a woman with trimmed-up hair, lots of bare skin and tattoos ©¤ reply casually and then the sound of someone opening the door and leaving.


    After seeing May off to some kind of job with a wave of her hand, the clerk directed a fed-up look at Seymour who was still stuck halfway through getting up.


    ¡°What? Is something the matter?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­No, nothing.¡± With a sigh, he flopped back down on the chair. ¡°It looks like it wasn¡¯t a call for me.¡±


    ¡°Well aren¡¯t we all gung-ho about work all of a sudden? Did something happen?¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply. Having not been called for yet another day, he could only come to one conclusion: The Oriental guy with the sunglasses ©¤©¤ the man who always requested for ¡ºGrind the MillToi Mo¡»to be delivered, was dead. Of course, this also meant that Seymour¡¯s theory that his client had been Isaac Nigel had been correct.


    One week has passed since the newspaper featured the article about the death of the Blood Familia¡¯s big-shot. Seymour frequently visited the Holiday during that week, and checked all the requests that came his way. However, in the end, the request for him to deliver¡ºGrind the MillToi Mo¡» never came again.


    A job he had received several times a week for more than a year had suddenly stopped. No matter how you looked at it, the reason must be tied to the death of that man.


    A heavy sigh spilled out of Seymour¡¯s lips. He took a little sip of the now completely cold coffee. With a grimace, he added copious amounts of milk. By the time he found it somewhat drinkable, he had halved the concentration already, and no matter how much he added it wouldn¡¯t change the fact that mud would still taste like mud.


    ¡°Putting that aside, where¡¯s Lumi? She was always following you around like a puppy, but I haven¡¯t seen hide nor hair of her these days.¡±


    Seymour furrowed his eyebrows at the blatant curiosity of the clerk.


    ¡°¡­¡­We had a little fight over our work policy.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha, it¡¯s because you worked her like a horse. We¡¯re talking ¡¯bout you here, so I¡¯m pretty sure you didn¡¯t even give her a proper share of the pay, did you? I mean, anyone would feel like going on a lil¡¯ strike in a situation like that.¡±


    ¡°Ahahaha, I thought she was a girl who doesn¡¯t know how this world works. That¡¯s why.¡± His mouth moved as if it was a separate entity, giving some random, noncommittal reply.


    ¡°You sure look like you truly believed that bullcrap.¡±


    Rather, the issue was that Seymour didn¡¯t feel like explaining that it had been Lumi¡¯s own wish to work.


    Today also ended without him being called to work. Eventually, when the eastern sky began to be colored in shades of gray, Seymour left his seat. In the end, the bottom of his coffee cup remained hidden beneath murky fluid.


    Hunching his shoulders against the bite of the cold, he headed to the driver¡¯s seat of his Essex. As he was about to get the engine going, his mind wandered to what had been weighing on him over the last few days.


    ©¤©¤A request by some nameless man to deliver Lumi Spike to her uncle¡¯s place. Now that he thought about it, Seymour hadn¡¯t quite caught what that uncle had said. In fact, even Lumi failed to say anything of substance.


    ¡ºGood evening¡»


    ¡ºY-Yeah, good evening. But, you¡¯re©¤©¤©¤©¤¡»


    That was actually all he heard from their conversation. If he disregarded the information that he had been given before the job, Seymour had only seen Lumi ring the bell of someone¡¯s home, and then someone who had been very surprised to see her had opened the door. In other words, it was pretty much certain that it hadn¡¯t been the home of Lumi¡¯s relatives.


    Some mafia familia had probably designated the house as a target to be blown up. And Lumi pretended it was her uncle¡¯s home to match the timing of her visit to the explosion.


    But, why?


    So that Seymour Road would shelter Lumi Spike.


    He turned the key, but the engine didn¡¯t start.


    ©¤©¤The request to deliver a gift to the San Marina, and the second attack.


    After sheltering Lumi, Seymour hadn¡¯t even tried to take her with him to any of his jobs. It wasn¡¯t because he didn¡¯t want to, but rather because there were too many reasons against him taking her. However, that all changed because of that request.


    He was made aware of the possibility that she could be attacked at home or the Holiday, which he had previously considered to be safe areas, and on top of that, Lumi had suddenly proven her own worth during a surprise job.


    I can¡¯t really tell whether that job was actually a set-up, but that¡¯s not really important here. However, the reason I took Lumi with me on that job¡­the sudden attack, and the water tank that suddenly came crashing down; there¡¯s no doubt that all of these were caused intentionally.


    He turned the key, but the engine didn¡¯t start.


    It¡¯s simple once you connect all these incidents. And that unnatural sequence of events only makes sense under a single premise: everything that had happened between meeting Lumi Spike and now had been in order to make sure that Lumi Spike would accompany Seymour Road ©¤©¤ in order to murder he secluded Isaac Nigel.


    He turned the key, but the engine didn¡¯t start.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Fuck!¡±


    His irritation reaching its peak Seymour kicked the dashboard with the sole of his shoe. That little movement made him pant heavily. No matter how much he inhaled and inhaled, he felt like there was no air in his lungs. He clearly heard the blood pounding in his ear.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    He slammed his forehead against the wheel. Ignoring the loud blare of the car horn, he stayed like that for a short while. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore what was going on inside and outside of him. He reset his body like a machine, pushing all his agitation away.


    Soon the irritation, which had been creeping slowly towards panic, faded away. He calmly grasped the key, and gently turned it. The engine started up, sending its low rumble through his body from below. Little by little he let the regular rhythm of the engine settle his mind.


    Either way, it¡¯s a safe bet that it¡¯s in danger.


    As for what was in danger, it¡¯d be the way of life of the human called Seymour, and the career as a courier that defined his very existence.


    Taking advantage of Seymour¡¯s job, Lumi had murdered someone. This was an insult, not just to Seymour¡¯s personal disgust at the concept of murder, but also to his very existence. Even though she was fully aware of how Seymour had become a courier and why he chose this way of life, Lumi Spike had chosen to use him as a tool.


    I have to confront her about it.


    Seymour decided while stepping on the accelerator.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°Oh, welcome back.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    When Seymour rolled up the shutter, he was greeted by Lumi¡¯s smile. She was holding a plate underneath the flickering, cackling, naked light bulb.


    Seymour silently got out of the car, leaving the door open. Staying well within reach of his car, he moved to the boundary line created by the light leaking out of the garage. This way he could jump into the driver¡¯s seat at a moment¡¯s notice. With the engine still running, he just needed to slam the accelerator and the Essex would charge into the garage. Of course, running over Lumi in the process.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour?¡± Lumi called out to him, having seen that he was standing stock still. ¡°You¡¯re not going to come in? Ah, please dust off your clothes before you do that. I¡¯ve been making slow progress with the cleaning of this garage!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I made some delicious pasta today, you know? I bought a lot of nice shrimp at a store in the neighborhood. Mother taught me how to make pasta for sad days. I¡¯m quite confident in the taste.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Since Ben came over a little while ago, I shared some of it with him. It looks like it came out great. Ehehe, I held back on snacking today.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Mr¡­Seymour?¡±


    No matter how you looked at her, Lumi seemed very much like an ordinary girl, tilting her head in confusion. Her limbs, so white and slender they made you wonder if they knew what muscles were, possessed a softness Seymour was well aware of.


    Lumi had introduced herself as vampire, and Seymour had personally witnessed the abilities that that had granted her, but they had been nothing more than idyllic tricks like changing into bats, and he couldn¡¯t quite connect the concept of murderer to this girl in front of him. Above all, her clear fondness towards him, despite looking somewhat troubled right now, had something of an irresistible charm.


    He took a deep breath in, holding it for a good while before exhaling.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.Haaah.¡±


    The determination that he had believed to be so steadfast and tough, dissolved into nothing but softness the instant he saw Lumi¡¯s face.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m back.¡±


    He felt terribly pathetic. He folded his body back into the car, and drove into the garage. Lumi closed the shutter after him, controlling it to minimize the shaking.


    This had happened every day ever since Seymour had seen the news of Isaac Nigel¡¯s death. He understood it rationally. There was no doubt that Lumi had killed the mafia man. She was responsible for his death, directly or indirectly; with the information and evidence in his grasp, it was impossible to conclude otherwise.


    Moreover, he could be fairly sure that she wasn¡¯t part of the mafia herself.


    Disputes among mafia familia almost never found their way into the news. In other words, Isaac Nigel¡¯s death being reported on the front page of a newspaper meant that the scene of his death did not adhere to mafia practices. Based on that, it also meant that the being called Lumi Spike belonged to an organization of a significantly different and nastier nature than the mafia.


    Having said that, Seymour had not confronted her with all these facts even once.


    ¡°It does look tasty. But, I don¡¯t really think that it¡¯s a good idea to feed Ben.¡±


    ¡°Is that¡­so? He appeared to be very happy about it, though?¡±


    ¡°Of course he would. But if you make him happy once, it would be wrong not to do the same next time, right? That¡¯s not a responsibility you should be taking, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, but I always make you happy, don¡¯t I, Mr. Seymour?¡± Lumi chuckled.


    Seymour¡¯s face screwed up into a terrible grimace just as he was about to sit down on an empty can that served as a stool, at the table which consisted of a board placed on now empty paint cans.


    ¡°In short, that means you¡¯re going to take responsibility for me, right Mr. Seymour?¡± Lumi¡¯s voice was filled with amusement.


    While searching her words for an underlying meaning, Seymour sighed heavily and gave her a somewhat safe reply.


    ¡°I give up. Should we invite Ben over for dinner next time then?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that basically mean you won¡¯t take responsibility for me!?¡±


    There were hints of fawning and disappointment in her voice. Despite the fact that she was definitely putting on an act, Seymour¡¯s heart throbbed.


    A lacking sense of urgency. A weak sense of danger. He understood it rationally. That Lumi Spike was a hitman for some kind of organization, that she had used him to kill someone.


    And yet, he only understood it rationally. It wasn¡¯t as though he had actually witnessed Lumi Spike killing anyone, and it wasn¡¯t as though he could call himself an acquaintance of Isaac Nigel either. Even though her crime was an undeniable fact, that very fact didn¡¯t feel real to him. The death of a man, who should have been his acquaintance, felt ridiculously far away. So distant that even when he strained his eyes, he still couldn¡¯t quite see it. And that was the very reason why he could avert his eyes from that reality.


    Sitting down to dinner with her like this was bliss. Even though a maelstrom of doubt and suspicion swirled inside him, it was so easy for Seymour to put off dealing with it all that it was actually quite sad.


    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s eat¡­¡­wait, have I always had this tableware?¡±


    ¡°I bought it some time ago. Ah, I used the money you gave me for buying ingredients, so it¡¯s okay, right?¡±


    ¡°Hee, somehow I get the feeling that the number of things in here that were bought by you has been steadily increasing.¡±


    ¡°Rather, let me tell you: for your information Mr. Seymour, this is the third time you¡¯ve used that fork. You never noticed until now?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Oh, really?¡± Inclining his head, Seymour brought the unfamiliar pasta to his mouth with the unfamiliar fork. ¡°Yep, it¡¯s great.¡±


    No matter who died somewhere in this city, her food still remained tasty.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.2

    ¡°Gah, I¡¯m totally bored. Mister, please tell me an interesting story.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it all of a sudden with you?¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got no work if the night is peaceful. So I¡¯m bored.¡±


    Fran swung her feet to reinforce how bored she was. Seymour noticed a trace of alcohol on her breath, concluding that it wasn¡¯t just nicotine that was currently swirling within her body.


    Having decided to take a day off today, Seymour had come here to buy cigarettes. He didn¡¯t even try to hide his bewilderment, shaking his head as he repeated the same words he always said in situations like this.


    ¡°The mafia disputes have reached a stalemate, huh? An information broker having nothing to do is proof that the city is peaceful. Please stay like this for the rest of your life, ok?¡±


    ¡°If I just keep sitting around without using my head, I¡¯ll just become fat. Got it, mister? I¡¯ll blow up like a balloon.¡±


    ¡°Just give me the cigarettes¡­please.¡±


    ¡°Which ones tickle your fancy, dear gentleman?¡±


    ¡°The cheapest ones©¤©¤©¤©¤the ones right above that.¡±


    ¡°Mister, you truly are unchanging, aren¡¯t you? Well, seems like you might be quite a bit of fun, though. Your current girl seems to have lasted a fairly long time so far.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk about things beyond your age. Cigarettes.¡±


    ¡°Booo,¡± Fran puffed up her cheeks. She spun around on the chair to search for the cigarettes in question.


    Seymour looked back over his shoulder while bouncing the cigarette in his mouth. Lumi was inside the Essex parked on the road. Noticing him looking, she looked up from her book, and waved at him with a smile. Because her expression was just like it had been before, as if nothing had ever happened, Seymour¡¯s became stilted instead.


    It was virtually impossible for her not to have realized the suspicions Seymour harbored about her.


    Or rather, Seymour thinking further, assuming that Lumi¡¯s objective was to murder Isaac Nigel, why is she still staying at my garage? Since she¡¯s already accomplished her objective, it would be much smarter to leave as soon as possible and silence me while she was at it.


    ¡°¡­¡­ All things considered, the nights have been truly peaceful.¡±


    For a while, gunshots had echoed throughout the city every night, though no corpses were ever found the next morning. But, now that he thought about it, Seymour didn¡¯t recall hearing any gunpowder explosions over the last few days either.


    The dispute between mafia familia, which had been going on for a long time, might have come to a temporary conclusion, Seymour reckoned.


    ¡°Mister, something on your mind?¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s just that things I don¡¯t want to think about keep cropping up in my head.¡±


    Nothing good ever comes from poking your head into mafia matters.


    Seymour extended a hand, trying to pick up the cigarette packs Fran had laid out. But, that hand was suddenly accosted by Fran¡¯s.


    ¡°¡­¡­What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve decided to charge a ¡ºsomewhat interesting story¡» instead of money for today¡¯s cigarettes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I asked for the second-cheapest cigarettes, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why I¡¯ll give you the cigarettes for a ¡ºsomewhat interesting story¡». By the way, the cheapest cigarettes would cost you a ¡ºdull story¡».¡±


    Seymour¡¯s eyebrows wrinkled in irritation. For just an instant, he seriously considered forcefully shaking off her small hand. But, he didn¡¯t plan on buying cigarettes from any other store but this one, and Fran was a girl.


    Seymour leaned forward, transferring his weight to the counter.


    ¡°An interesting story, huh?¡±


    ¡°I have high expectations of your taste, mister.¡±


    ¡°Let me see. Did you know?¡± Seymour started off with a solemn expression. ¡°You are also acquainted with Lumi. That girl is actually a vampire, and a hitman who¡¯s been hired by some organization. So, she hasn¡¯t been staying at my place for a romantic reason, but to extract information from me to kill someone.¡±


    ¡°Ahahahahahahahahaha! That one¡¯s terrible¡­even for a made-up story.¡±


    It was a big hit. Fran loudly slammed her hand on the counter several times, laughing so hard that the cigar fell out of her mouth.


    ¡°Mister, I didn¡¯t expect to find a comedian in you! That wasn¡¯t a ¡ºsomewhat interesting story¡»just now, but a ¡ºvery interesting story¡». Want me to up the grade of your cigarettes?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m cool with these.¡±


    ¡°Really? Okay, then let¡¯s say I owe you one. You can make me a request sometime in the future.¡±


    To hide the fact that he was more embarrassed than he had expected, Seymour chewed on the filter of his cigarette. Taking the packs from her, he tried to walk away, but Fran called after him.


    ¡°So, mister, did you cheer up a bit?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you smoking a cigarette today?¡±


    Putting her middle and index finger together, Fran tapped them on the side of her mouth not already occupied by her cigar.


    ¡°A slovenly guy like you usually only comes to buy new cigarettes when you run out. Did something happen?¡±


    A smile reflexively formed on Seymour¡¯s lips, ¡°Who knows?¡±


    ¡°Mister, you¡¯re one of our cherished, regular customers. We¡¯ll go the extra mile for you.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡± Without answering, Seymour waved a hand.


    Her gentle words just now were obviously calculated. As information broker, Fran was intentionally trying to maintain her connection with Seymour Road. She cajoled him for that very reason. And yet, he was touched by such a ruse, showing Seymour exactly how tired he was.


    I¡¯m pretty sure that this is from me continuously putting off dealing with Lumi.


    He was living with a killer: it was impossible for that not to weigh on his mind.


    ¡°¡­¡­I really gotta do something about this, don¡¯t I?¡±


    Even as this thought filled his mind, he was mesmerized by the beauty of Lumi¡¯s profile as she sat with her eyes lowered.


    My resolve will likely fall apart like a house of cards today as well, and I¡¯ll end up spending an ordinary, everyday life with her while ignoring the matters at hand. From the outset, the man known as Seymour Road is not associated with such attributes as resolve or determination.


    That was his belief.


    He walked up to the Essex. While he opened the door and got into the car, Lumi stifled a laugh with a hand placed on her mouth. Apparently she had returned to reading her book again. However, Seymour couldn¡¯t catch a glimpse of the book spine in her lap from the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°You like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is funny.¡±


    Lumi revealed a smile with all the innocence of a girl who had just had her first bite of cake in her life. But, since Seymour had returned, she closed the book with a thump.


    At that moment, Seymour managed to see the front cover. It had ¡ºThe Four Riders of the Apocalypse¡» written on it.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Seymour knew the contents of that book. But that was only natural, seeing how that book had come from his room back home. For this reason, Seymour was aware that the story mostly revolved around wars ¨C a heartrending tragedy where most of the cast died and the plot was pretty depressing the whole way through. And he also knew that it didn¡¯t contain a single sentence you could call funny.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤About that.¡± His throat got drier by the second. Seymour had to exert all his willpower to prevent his voice trembling. ¡°Is it really funny?¡±


    Lumi apparently didn¡¯t understand the meaning behind his question since she tilted her head in confusion.


    But, she nodded a moment later. With the same tone she used when she had laughed after reading a comedy the other day and a guileless expression , she answered, ¡°Yes, humans doing things is funny to read.¡±


    An ice-cold shudder traveled down Seymour¡¯s spine. It would have been much better if this had been Lumi¡¯s way of intimidating him or elevating herself. It¡¯d have been better if Lumi, who had revealed her brutal nature, had said so with the intent of frightening Seymour.


    But, neither of those applied here.


    She had simply said what she actually felt. With no intentions of starting a power play, Lumi had merely spoken the truth as it was for her.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤I see. I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡±


    Seymour somehow managed to force his trembling hand, which had almost grabbed the door handle so he could escape, back onto the steering wheel. The premonition that it¡¯d be a bad idea to do anything so careless and thus draw the attention of the ¡¯thing¡¯ in his back seat onto himself stopped him from simply running away.


    His mind suddenly flashed back to the image of the mother cat suckling her kittens. Back then he thought it was cute.


    People could passively look on as the kittens struggled for survival because that battle was unrelated to them.


    And the same theory applied here.


    Lumi Spike read stories depicting human wars, and laughed at them as though she were actually reading a comedy. Or rather, she could laugh at it. Since humans were unrelated to her, she found amusement in whatever the humans were doing.


    She¡¯s not human. Definitely a vampire and not a human.


    That realization only fully hit him now after all this time. It hadn¡¯t been the fact that she was able to suck blood, turn into bats, or that she hated the sun, but the fact that she simply wasn¡¯t human.


    A monster and abomination. The natural enemy of the human race. I¡¯m 100% certain. She¡¯s definitely a hitman.


    He was long past the information gathering stage. He had no doubt that she had killed people, bloodying her own hands. It was unthinkable for her to have any aversion to murder with an indifferent disposition like hers.


    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m going to¡­start the car.¡± Seymour desperately tried to push down his dread, plastering a smile on his face.


    A physical feeling of disgust assailed him. A fear that screamed at him to get away from here at all costs. At this point, he had lost sight of just what was sitting in the back seat of his car.


    He had felt like he had built some kind of relationship with Lumi. He had felt like there had been some value to his days with Lumi ©¤©¤ even if she was a hitman ©¤©¤ something that was a little more than his daily struggle against fate.


    However, those feelings only applied to Seymour.


    No matter what Seymour did or encountered, he believed that Lumi Spike would enjoy it with a smile. Because she was a demon, and not a human.


    He stepped on the accelerator, letting the car roll forward. As if she was discomforted by Seymour¡¯s silence, Lumi tilted her head in confusion once more. Even though her smile remained unchanged, Seymour couldn¡¯t find a trace of loveliness in it anymore.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing.¡± He took a hand off the wheel, opening the window. ¡°It¡¯s all good as long as you enjoy it.¡±


    If only that were true, Seymour mumbled under his breath as he tossed his cigarette out the window.


    Caught in the wind, the cigarette lit up brightly for an instant, before vanishing completely.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    The next day.


    The crux of the matter is why Lumi Spike came to live with me, Seymour assessed.


    ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    Currently Seymour was in the middle of receiving a package from a client, a man with a short boxed beard. He somehow managed to wedge the long, crooked package, which had the contours of a boat¡¯s oar, diagonally into the back seat of his Essex.


    Hearing the client¡¯s reply, he confirmed the delivery.


    Since they had agreed on payment in advance, Seymour started his car after receiving his money. Fortunately there was still a good while left before the time appointed in the request. As he gazed out the window, he allowed himself to give voice to his thoughts. Thoughts that swirled inside the car before vanishing into thin air.


    ¡°If she had a flawless grasp of my requests, there wouldn¡¯t have been a need to come to my place.¡±


    He assumed that there existed someone who had wanted to kill Isaac Nigel, whose whereabouts had been unknown at the time. If they had already known all of Seymour¡¯s requests back then, it would have been redundant for Lumi to infiltrate his home or accompany him on his jobs. They could have simply gone straight to Isaac Nigel to kill him.


    ¡°In other words, Lumi didn¡¯t know how exactly she would come to know Isaac Nigel¡¯s location.¡±


    He guessed that she or the organization she belonged to had only concluded that ¡ºIt might be possible to find out Isaac Nigel¡¯s location by accompanying Seymour Road on his job¡».


    It was likely that they had zeroed in on Seymour, or rather, monitored him for a good while beforehand. Couriers like Seymour could be valuable information sources for hitmen. Because of that they had tried to obtain a clue on how to kill Isaac Nigel from Seymour.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤No, isn¡¯t that actually backwards?¡±


    It was absurd to approach Seymour for the sake of finding Isaac Nigel. Leaving aside the fact that the surveillance would need to be perfect, it made no sense for her to come to live at Seymour¡¯s place if their information was at the level of not even knowing the extent of Seymour¡¯s jobs.


    That¡¯s why it should be the opposite. They must have had a lead on Isaac Nigel¡¯s whereabouts to begin with.


    Seymour also had an idea on what kind of lead it might have been.


    ©¤©¤¡ºToi Mo¡» ©¤ the rare cigars in the blue box.


    The killers knew that Isaac Nigel smoked those cigars. If you considered how a man in hiding could get his hands on those cigars, the options would be limited. Isaac Nigel had probably hired private couriers like Seymour to bring the cigars to him without leaving a trail that would lead back to him. For this reason, the killers had decided to spy on Seymour Road, no, perhaps not just him, discreet couriers©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    For an instant, his hand on the wheel trembled violently with the chill that shot through Seymour.


    Logically, there was no other explanation besides that one. When one thought of reasons why Lumi Spike would be in Seymour Road¡¯s home, the only one that made sense was this one. However, at the same time it also hinted at something else.


    It was clear that Lumi Spike was a hitman, that she belonged to some kind of organization, and that this organization probably provided back up for her.


    However, Seymour was unable to get a read on the scale of that hitman organization. If his current train of thought was correct, they ought to be much bigger and have much more power than he had originally suspected.


    After all, that organization had obviously investigated couriers other than Seymour. The organization only knew that someone was transporting the cigars, but not who. They knew that the mafia guy was buying ¡ºToi Mo¡», so they simply checked the distribution of cigars in this city to find out which courier was doing the deliveries. They had thought up such a search to find a needle in a haystack, executed it, and succeeded in their objective.


    That was the power held by the organization standing behind Lumi Spike.


    ¡°¡­Well, whatever. For the time being, I¡¯ve found out how I should figure out the organization looming in Lumi¡¯s shadow.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 3.3

    When he opened the Holiday¡¯s door after his delivery, he was greeted by music for once. A gramophone had been placed on the stool in front of the piano, playing a record.


    ¡°Madela! How¡¯s business going today?¡±


    ¡°So-so, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°I see! Thank you!¡± Seymour turned to look at the gramophone even as he answered as usual.


    ¡°Is Sasha in?¡±


    Seymour asked this of the clerk after planting himself in his usual seat because he had seen the collage of small bears surrounding the rotating gramophone. The paper bears danced to the music with hands entwined.


    ¡°Too bad, you just missed her.¡±


    ¡°Okay, please lend me your phone for a minute then.¡±


    ¡°You have to order first.¡±


    ¡°Owen¡­and Gordon have their own telephones, don¡¯t they? Also, Rose, if I remember correctly?¡±


    ¡°You have to order first.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Coffee. As hot as possible.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha.¡±


    After handing him a cup of disgusting brown brew, the clerk furrowed her eyebrows, obviously curious.


    ¡°Why¡¯ve you suddenly got it into your head to contact your business rivals Owen Stanley and Gordon Banister? Though I don¡¯t get how Rose comes into play here.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t I be able to figure out James¡¯ whereabouts if I call Rose?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s what the deal is. Are you guys finally in the mood to set up a courier union?¡±


    Owen, Gordon, and James, the husband of Mrs. Rose, were all couriers like Seymour. Of course there were a lot more couriers working in this city, and Seymour knew quite a few of them, but the number of people who possessed a phone, had a varied circle of acquaintances, and who Seymour could get in touch with was quite small.


    ¡°Something like that. So could you please lend me the phone?¡±


    ¡°Lending is out of the question, but I can call them for you. Since there¡¯s no guarantee that I¡¯ll be able to reach them right away, prepare yourself for a long wait, okay?¡±


    In other words, she¡¯s telling me to order more since I¡¯m going to be here for a while anyway, huh?


    Seymour leaned on the counter, and began to drink his coffee as slowly as humanly possible.


    ¡°What should I tell them if they ask me what you want?¡±


    ¡°Something along the lines of me wanting to have a little chat.¡±


    In reality, that was a lie. Seymour didn¡¯t have it in him to actively try to get along with other couriers. After all, most of the people who end up doing mafia work like being a courier are brawny and intimidating.


    That said, assuming Seymour¡¯s speculations proved to be correct, Lumi Spike ©¤ or the organization standing behind her ©¤ should have gathered information on a far bigger scale. In other words, something should have happened to the other couriers, too.


    Seymour didn¡¯t know whether it would be something obvious like Lumi Spike visiting them or something completely different. Besides, it would be foolish to assume that they took place at the very same time as Seymour¡¯s case. However, it was unlikely that a hitman had investigated Isaac Nigel, immediately hit upon Seymour and determined him to be the right man.


    ¡°If I ask those guys, someone will probably have noticed something¡­¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I was just getting all excited over the possibility that I might meet a new, cute girl.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not happy with Lumi? What a greedy bastard.¡±


    Seymour exchanged some casual banter with the regular customers and clerk of the Holiday, interrupted Madela at her crossword puzzle, and upset his stomach by drinking too much of the nasty coffee. By the end of the night, between his various activities he had managed to contact several couriers and set up meetings with them.


    ¡°You were a big help. Next time I¡¯ll order something expensive as thanks.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just going to be more coffee anyway, right?¡±


    ¡°Please get an expensive coffee ready for me then.¡±


    ¡°That would be a waste of beans, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Is she aware of how terrible she is at brewing coffee?


    Seymour stood up with a bitter smile, stretching to get rid of the stiffness that had built up over the last few hours. The first on his list was Gordon. He¡¯d meet him tomorrow ©¤ or rather today, seeing as the sun had risen already. He figured that he had enough time to go back home and catch a short nap.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Remembering the monster in the shape of a girl who was likely waiting for him back home, Seymour¡¯s face cramped up into a grim expression. While lamenting over this, he left the Holiday, opened his Essex¡¯s door, and flopped down onto the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Yo, would it be alright for me to ask you to do a job?¡±


    Seymour got goosebumps from hearing a voice right behind him.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤W¡­haa!?¡±


    His Essex was locked, yet the voice came from the back seat, right behind the driver¡¯s seat. Some stranger had sat down without him realizing.


    Looking back, he hit his back against the steering wheel when he instinctively tried to put some distance between them. The honk of car horn loudly replaced Seymour¡¯s scream. Instead, he managed to sound calm even though his throat felt like sandpaper.


    ¡°Who¡­are you?¡±


    The one sitting behind him was a woman.


    ¡°Oh my, wa-hahaha. What¡¯s wrong? According to the rumors, you only ask your clients, ¡ºHow far¡» and ¡ºHow fast¡», don¡¯t you?¡±


    A strong smell of medicine, mud, and death wafted by Seymour¡¯s nose. It gave him a terribly ominous feeling, reminding him of a hospital right next to a cemetery. Seymour couldn¡¯t tell the woman¡¯s age at a glance. Her long, unkempt hair and the baggy, unfashionable dress that resembled a hospital gown made her feel simultaneously like a child in her teens and like a 30-years old adult. Her eyes, which were big and bulging in contrast to her thin and emaciated body, gleamed dangerously.


    And on top of all that, the woman had neither a left arm nor a left leg.


    ¡°¡­¡­Who are you?¡± Seymour searched his memory while he repeated his question to regain his composure.


    However, naturally he possessed no memory of ever meeting her. While he was at it, he also wondered vaguely if he had a gun stashed somewhere he could protect himself with, but that was naturally a bust too.


    Because it was covered by her dress, he couldn¡¯t clearly tell how much she had left of her leg. From the way the sleeve fell in, he guessed she had lost everything below the shoulder. And he hadn¡¯t noticed earlier because of the poor lighting and the way her hair was draped around her like animal fur, but she was also heavily scarred. Awful burn marks pointed to the cause of her missing limbs.


    A keloid scar wound its way out from under her collar, cradling her cheek and ending at her temple. Seymour was more than certain that there were even more scars under her clothes.


    ¡°Wa-haha, that¡¯s the second time. It looks like you¡¯re allowing me to witness something rare.¡±


    Probably because of her scars, the woman¡¯s voice sounded awfully listless. Like a monotone, emotionless monologue. The flat laughter, that she insisted on repeating, made anyone listening feel insecure.


    Nonetheless, Seymour managed to recover some of his composure after seeing the woman for himself. At the very least, she didn¡¯t appear to be some kind of burglar. She didn¡¯t have a single item about her person, let alone any weapons. As such, Seymour suspected that the odds of her trying to kill him were rather low, even though she clearly had some kind of agenda.


    Comforted by that thought for an instant, he immediately realized his blunder.


    The woman was clearly in no state to walk around by herself, and he couldn¡¯t see a cane anywhere. And yet she was sitting in his car by herself.


    ¡°Yo, yo, hello. I¡¯m the president of Murder Incorporated, Claudia Horrocks. Nice to meet you.¡± The woman lifted the right corner of her mouth, the only one she could move freely, forming a crooked smile. ¡°Ah, I guess it¡¯s going to be easier for you to understand if I introduce myself as Lumi Spike¡¯s employer. A dealer in murder. The ringleader behind Isaac Nigel¡¯s murder.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    The woman requested that Seymour transport her, and he didn¡¯t decline. Or rather, he wasn¡¯t in a position to decline. The other side had completely taken the initiative. At a glance she might be no more than a one-armed, one-legged woman, but he had no idea what she might be hiding. Even if they were inside a moving, closed room right now.


    The woman ©¤©¤ Claudia grinned at Seymour as he silently and gloomily kept his eyes on the road.


    ¡°Hmm, you¡¯re more taciturn than I¡¯d heard. Your driving skills seem to be superb, though.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­The car is already running, but let me ask, how far do you want to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go with your home then. As for the time¡­let¡¯s see¡­how about when we finish our lil¡¯ talk?¡±


    ¡°Talk? Are you asking me to provide you with a funny story?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you do sound confident there, don¡¯t you? In that case, you must tell me by all means.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve actually become rather confident in my skills recently. But setting that aside, why my place?¡±


    Seymour collected his thoughts. It¡¯d been mere hours ago since he had contacted his acquaintances to investigate the organization ©¤ he had just learned that the people behind Lumi Spike appeared to be called Murder Inc. 1 In other words, almost no one could have grasped his actions yet. No matter how quickly Claudia might have reacted, there were very few people who could have informed her of Seymour¡¯s movements.


    Just as he seriously began to think about who it might be, Claudia¡¯s hollow laughter interrupted him.


    ¡°Wa-haha, it¡¯s meaningless for you to try to figure this out. My Murder Inc. has penetrated this city on a fairly wide scale, but the number of people who actually belong to us is low.¡±


    ¡°In short, you like peeping, huh? Not very praiseworthy behavior, I gotta say.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not praising it, but you¡¯re also not criticizing it either. You¡¯re quite the modern guy in that sense.¡± She rebutted, and shook her head awkwardly.


    Her hair swayed with a rustle, causing the muddy stench to spread. Seymour wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°Actually I hadn¡¯t planned to appear in front of you. Lumi had accepted the job alongside the responsibility of preventing you from investigating the death of Isaac Nigel if we left it to her.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    As a matter of fact, Lumi did succeed at that to some degree. It was undoubtedly a fact that Seymour was nearly swept away by the pleasures of a relaxed daily life, willingly averting his eyes from the death and crime right in front of him.


    ¡°Where did she slip up? Well, I¡¯m not really surprised though since that girl can be rather careless.¡±


    ¡°You came here after I started to investigate you people ©¤ the Murder Inc. In other words, you¡¯re going to seal my mouth?¡± Despite his question, he didn¡¯t really believe this to be the case.


    It¡¯d be pointless for someone ©¤ and moreover a woman like her ©¤ to make an effort to meet him if they wanted to silence him. Besides, this woman didn¡¯t have the look of someone who would kill others. He couldn¡¯t believe that a twisted woman like her could exercise such crude and plain malice as to commit murder.


    ¡°Wa-haha, quite the dangerous words for the likes of a courier. As if.¡±


    Seymour tried to determine how credible her words were, but reading Claudia¡¯s expression and tone was as difficult as trying to tell the difference between snow that fell today and snow that fell yesterday.


    ¡°I said it a little while ago, but it¡¯s because you¡¯re a very modern man.¡±


    ¡°Am I? Even though I may look like this, I was raised in a traditional family.¡±


    ¡°I mean, you¡¯re attempting to oppose Lumi, but you haven¡¯t challenged her for the murder itself, have you?¡±


    This was one of those times where he truly regretted not smoking a cigarette. He couldn¡¯t dodge troublesome questions by simply blowing out some smoke.


    But, Claudia didn¡¯t even wait for an answer from him, snarling with a raspy voice, ¡°Then again I can understand. Confronting the truth of a murder in this city, where business doesn¡¯t shy away from anything, is tough. Very tough. You¡¯re not so much of a child that you wouldn¡¯t be able to believe that, but neither are you enough of an adult to accept it.¡±


    ¡°No matter how skilled a driver I might be, there are limits on how long I can prolong this drive.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. One of my many faults is my tendency to digress. Anyway, to summarize, I came here to explain what we are.¡±


    Explain ©¤ Seymour¡¯s finger reflexively drummed on the wheel in response to that idyllic term.


    ¡°Eh? I seriously thought that you¡¯d come to silence me or something.¡±


    ¡°I already told you that you were wrong about that, didn¡¯t I? You¡¯re the kind of guy that needs a reason, be it for lacing up your shoes, deciding on your breakfast menu, or even accusing someone of murder. You¡¯re aware of it yourself, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Seymour recalled the smile of the girl who only looked like a monster to him now. Given that his emotional state had deteriorated to the point that it was plainly visible to anyone who looked at him, Claudia¡¯s diagnosis pretty much hit the nail on the head.


    ¡°It¡¯s a rare chance, so I thought that I might provide you with a reason that might give you some more food for thought.¡±


    A corporation of murderers. He savored the name he had been given slowly on the tip of his tongue. As a term he never heard before, it carried a rather unfamiliar sort of timbre; one that his mouth wasn¡¯t used to.


    ¡°Murder Inc. I¡¯m the second president of the company so far. No wait, I think first would be more correct. I mean, being the second without a predecessor doesn¡¯t make much sense, does it? Oh well, the finer details don¡¯t really matter. Anyway, Murder Inc. is the name of an organization that earns its money from the mafia by killing the mafia.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not something so unusual that you¡¯d need to go out of your way to introduce yourself. Even I have several hitmen, who get rid of nuisances for money, amongst my acquaintances, you know?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re misunderstanding. It¡¯s the opposite. We kill the mafia first. We decide on a target by ourselves. We don¡¯t take requests. Then we get money for it from the mafia.¡± Probably aware that her explanation was somewhat lacking, Claudia scratched her head with her right hand, and added, ¡°Seymour, who suffers the biggest loss if there¡¯s a dispute between mafia familia?¡±


    ¡°I can at least tell that the undertaker is the one making the biggest profit.¡±


    ¡°Wahaha, your joke sure is lackluster. I¡¯ll give you the answer. Nowadays the ones who suffer the biggest loss in a dispute between mafia familia are the mafia familia involved.¡±


    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not the first time Claudia has explained this.


    Seymour could clearly imagine it, given how smoothly she was talking, as if she was reciting a book she had memorized.


    ¡°It¡¯s all about business. The days when hitmen raked in the big bucks are long over since paying reparations has become way too expensive. And yet, I can only laugh at the foolishness of the mafia which cannot completely stop with its disputes.¡±


    ¡°But, you people kill people, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sure. The roots of a conflict go pretty deep, but are surprisingly simple to unravel. If you kill the ones causing the conflict, most disputes stop.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Isaac Nigel.¡±


    Seymour recalled Fran¡¯s overly bored look on the night so calm that it¡¯d depress any information broker.


    Sure, ever since his death, you¡¯ve stopped hearing any gunshots in the city.


    Seymour couldn¡¯t confirm anything since he wasn¡¯t in a position to know what was happening behind the scenes, but Claudia had just implied that Isaac Nigel¡¯s death had been the very reason for the end of the disputes.


    ¡°We kill the mafia. We kill anyone who triggers disputes, and anyone who jeopardizes the peace of this city. And then we bring up the bill with those who benefit from the targets¡¯ death. In other words, to the mafia familia in question. Just recently, we received money from the Blood Familia.¡±


    They earned money from the Blood Familia for killing Isaac Nigel, a high-ranked member of the Blood Familia. Reality truly was terribly twisted and perverted, but business and benefits had shaped it into what it was today.


    A dispute was disadvantageous for the mafia, but familia couldn¡¯t afford to enforce its laws on its members every time a dispute occurred. Thus the existence of an organization which would kill the mafia members that caused a dispute of their own accord was beneficial for the mafia.


    Seymour couldn¡¯t tell whether things really worked like that, but he could see the logic.


    ¡°So in short, you¡¯re telling me forgive Lumi since your murders are righteous, correct?¡±


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t go that far. It¡¯s up to you to decide whether you forgive her or not. All I¡¯m here to tell you is that: Just like you¡¯ve found your niche in this city by providing discreet solutions for transport, we¡¯ve established our value in the city by providing discreet solutions to inter-organizational disputes through murder.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­What are you telling me to do then?¡±


    ¡°I told you. That¡¯s something you must decide for yourself.¡±


    Irritated by how Claudia seemed to see right through him, Seymour rounded a corner more roughly than he usually would. Claudia couldn¡¯t prop herself up and fell over. Wriggling like a caterpillar on the backseat, her murky eyes stayed pinned on Seymour.


    Far from feeling better, Seymour felt disgusted instead.


    ¡°Look, you¡¯re a guy who broods over all kinds of things, right?¡±


    Seymour couldn¡¯t find any words to rebuke her mockery.


    ¡°Lumi Spike is a convenient tool I¡¯ve obtained for our objectives. She¡¯s an inhuman monster who was raised without any ties to the world, who doesn¡¯t feel any guilt. No, it¡¯d be better to describe her as a natural occurrence. Humans wouldn¡¯t be able to last with no connections.¡±


    Claudia¡¯s words, which completely deprived Lumi of any humanity, didn¡¯t trigger any strong emotions in Seymour whatsoever. He was sure, just like she regarded humans as no different from animals, humans regarded her as more of a tool than an actual living being.


    However, unrelated to that, Seymour felt like something else disturbed him about Claudia¡¯s statement just now.


    ¡°You say natural occurrence, but that makes it sound like Lumi simply grew in some field somewhere.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me,¡± Claudia¡¯s lips curved upwards, ¡°you thought vampires had existed all along, lurking in the dark edges of unwritten history, or something like that?¡±


    Seymour slightly dropped the car¡¯s speed. The scenery just outside the window seemed to rush past and disappear from memory like a fleeting blur.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Just as you¡¯ve heard. Vampires are monsters who are stronger than humans, live longer than humans, and eat humans. If such monsters had actually existed throughout history, humans couldn¡¯t possibly be the ones who rule the world, right? That monster suddenly manifested in the modern era.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡­a little too silly to believe. A vampire suddenly popping out of nowhere is even more ridiculous than vampires existing all along.¡±


    ¡°And yet, as far as my research shows, there is no evidence that vampires have existed at any point in history. Not even a trace.¡±


    Claudia managed to get upright, using her right arm to push herself up. While her posture was still shaky and more than a little unsteady, the same couldn¡¯t be said about her gaze. It pierced through Seymour even when it was reflected in the mirror.


    ¡°That thing is something along the lines of an epoch¡¯s dreams.¡±


    ¡°A dream¡­by the epoch¡­?¡±


    ¡°Too many people died in the war. Everyone lost sight of what defines the world. Because the entire world is absurd and unrealistic, it seems comparatively normal to pray for nonsensical things if everything¡¯s already a mess anyway. In response to this mindset, the epoch has created an illusion called vampire.¡± Claudia spat, ¡°What a shitty era to live in, right?¡±


    The words voiced by the president of the Murder Inc. lacked a sense of reality in all respects, and were terribly disconcerting. But, it was also true that he could relate to some parts of her statement.


    Lumi Spike possessed all the vampiric traits written in stories. All this time, Seymour had wondered if such a being could really exist. However, now that he had been told that she was actually a vampire born from the legends ¨C in other words, the other way around ¨C he was able to understand it to some degree. A fairytale creature just without the fairytale.


    Eventually he could extend their drive no longer. A short while after Claudia stopped talking, seemingly having said everything she wanted to say, the Essex arrived at the garage.


    A single man stood in front of Seymour¡¯s home, half melded into the darkness. It was a man who had wolf-like ferocity, Seymour remembered. He had apparently come to pick up Claudia.


    Seymour stopped the car, and let out a sigh.


    ¡°Is it fine for me to ask just one more thing?¡±


    ¡°Feel free, ask away.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this? You don¡¯t look like a person who¡¯d care much about world peace.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s obvious, isn¡¯t it?¡± Claudia opened the car¡¯s door, and grabbed the man¡¯s hand. Claudia¡¯s empty left sleeve fluttered as he lifted her up. ¡°To get my revenge.¡±


    Her words brimmed with a nasty undertone, like blood oozing out of a torn wound.


    ¡°I want to slaughter as many mafia members for as long as possible, hopefully killing them all in the end.¡±


    Burns. Amputation. Explosion. As the images took hold of him, Seymour shook his head. By the time when he opened his eyes again, the president of the Murder Inc. and her employee had already vanished.


    ¡°Ah, fuck! Just what the hell¡¯s going on!?¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 3.4

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 3 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As he lowered the shutter, he noted how the eastern sky was dyed red. After that, he noticed it.


    There were no sounds coming from within his home, and he didn¡¯t sense any presences inside. Lumi Spike was gone.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    His brain was exhausted from his encounter with Claudia, and he was now at a point where he couldn¡¯t even muster up the strong emotions he should probably be feeling about Lumi¡¯s absence. All Seymour could manage was to silently lean against the garage¡¯s wall, giving in to his fatigue. He traced his finger through the remnants of the paint he had splashed on the wall. Even now he did it every once in a while for a change of pace.


    However he was so bummed out now that he couldn¡¯t even remember when and why he had washed the wall with the green paint on his fingertip.


    Moments passed. Then, his ears caught the sound of hastily flapping wings. In the next moment countless bats poured through the thin gap left in the small window at the top of the garage. The bats gathered, became one, and transformed into a girl in the air.


    ¡°Whaa!¡± Lumi yelped with wide eyes when she saw Seymour in the garage, before whirling around and fixing her posture.


    She landed on the ground with her skirt skilfully tucked between her thighs so she wouldn¡¯t flash anyone.


    ¡°You¡¯re home already, Mr. Seymour? You¡¯re a little early today, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Guess so. I¡¯m home.¡±


    He didn¡¯t ask her where she had gone. Lumi, a hitman, had taken advantage of Seymour¡¯s absence to go off somewhere. Not through the shutter, which would have shown traces of her comings and goings, but through the window. Even without the faint whiff of death clinging to her silver hair, her objective was as plain as day.


    ¡°Fufu, I went on a little stroll. Mr. Seymour©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Her golden eyes narrowed, turning into thin lines like her eyes were merely slits in the skin cut by a razor, ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤did you encounter an evil woman by chance? You stink of mud.¡±


    ¡°Who knows. I just did my work normally.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? That¡¯s great to hear. I¡¯ll prepare dinner right away.¡± Lumi started to walk away with soft, gravity-defying steps. ¡°I¡¯ll whip something up quickly with what we have on hand, okay? I¡¯m already full, so I¡¯m just cooking for tonight.¡±


    He breathed in slowly. He had thought about it in a vague sense before, but just now Lumi mentioned that she was full. Lumi ¨C a vampire who couldn¡¯t sate her hunger with ordinary food.


    For Lumi ©¤©¤ or rather the Murder Inc. there was no point in keeping Seymour alive. It¡¯d have been one thing if he didn¡¯t know anything, but they knew he suspected her of murdering Isaac Nigel. Regardless of whether or not he had any proof, leaving him alive was risky. On the other hand, erasing a man like Seymour, someone whose death wouldn¡¯t be mourned by anyone, bore little to no risk.


    And yet Seymour was still breathing, peacefully sitting here and eating his dinner.


    There could only be one reason for that.


    ¡°Your belly is full, eh?¡± The corners of his mouth twisted up into an evil smile. ¡°Then tell me, what did you eat and where©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He cut himself off abruptly¡­


    ¡°Yep, just as I thought. There¡¯s a weird stench clinging to you.¡±


    ¡­because Lumi had glided over to him, and pulled his head to her breasts. With the tip of his nose pressed against her soft chest, his voice was muffled.


    His brain was torn between appreciating the soft press of a woman against him, and the reflexive need to scream at the approach of a monster.


    ¡°Medicine, and mud. That¡¯s no good. A smell like that doesn¡¯t suit you.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s that about?¡±


    ¡°The smell of gasoline and smoke suits you. Smelling like you do now just makes me want to drool.¡±


    Almost as if, Seymour thought, I¡¯m nothing more than a meal for her if I smell different to how I usually do.


    Seymour was a well established presence in the city¡¯s goods distribution system. His information held value: Lumi had come to his house for that information. And because of that, she couldn¡¯t kill Seymour as long as he had value as a source of information.


    At least, that¡¯s what she had seemed to imply.


    He heard a giggle. Lumi pressed her nose against Seymour¡¯s nape.


    ¡°Say, Mr. Seymour, if, hypothetically, monsters existed in this world and if, hypothetically, they needed to eat humans to survive, would it be wrong for that monster to kill and devour people?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Well, there¡¯s no way that killing people could ever be interpreted as a good thing, is there?¡±


    ¡°But, even if some religions tell people that it¡¯s wrong to eat this, there aren¡¯t any that tell people not to eat anything at all.¡± He sensed her mouth snapping open. ¡°I mean, not being able to survive without food is something that applies to humans and monsters alike.¡±


    Something warm and living touched his nape. Seymour was sure that these were Lumi¡¯s lips, fangs, and tongue. Her canines, which he usually didn¡¯t consciously register, felt as long and sharp as fangs right now. Their hard points scraped along his skin. However, she had adjusted the pressure so that they wouldn¡¯t break his skin, just moving with soppy, wet sounds.


    His heart thumped inexplicably hard just once. Lumi laughed, though there was an unreadable quality to it.


    ¡°Juuust kidding.¡±


    She released Seymour¡¯s head with the same abruptness she had grabbed it with. Lumi put her hands behind her back and smoothly stepped back, putting some distance between her and Seymour.


    ¡°Alrighty, I¡¯ll go make dinner then.¡±


    Seymour slowly crumbled on the spot as he watched her leave. His butt hit the cold ground of the garage as all his strength left him. He sighed and rubbed his neck where Lumi¡¯s saliva still remained.


    It wouldn¡¯t have been at all unexpected if she had torn his neck apart at that very moment. Seymour didn¡¯t feel this way because he had sensed any bloodthirst from her, but rather the exact opposite. Just like a human wouldn¡¯t become all frenzied in front of a steak, Lumi gave off the same calmness as someone with a meal before them. Because of this, Seymour knew that he had not been spared for any reason in particular.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Oops, I almost forgot.¡±


    Lumi returned, still facing away from Seymour, her steps falling lightly on the ground. Walking backwards just like a kid, she only turned her head to look back at him, and laughed cheerfully.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, if you¡¯re tired, how about taking a nap first?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that I¡¯m that tired yet¡­¡±


    ¡°What, I¡¯m in a great mood right now, so I wouldn¡¯t mind letting you sleep with me, you know?¡± Lumi smiled with her canines bared.


    With her looks, it was definitely an attractive offer, but Seymour couldn¡¯t stop thinking about how empty that offer was. She didn¡¯t have a shred of shyness.


    It was all because Lumi Spike was no human. Even women who didn¡¯t sleep with human males would sleep with male pets. That was all.


    If embarrassment was something born through empathy between two beings, Lumi doubtlessly felt nothing towards Seymour whatsoever.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour silently waved a hand, sending Lumi away towards the portable cooking stove. He then thought about what it meant to be a monster.


    Is it good or evil for a monster to kill people? In the first place, who¡¯s right was it to decide?


    Seymour gazed out the window in search of an answer, but there were no laws written on the approaching dawn sky, no matter how hard he looked.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡­¡­¡± A meaningless sound escaped his lips.


    His thoughts gained a voice through that sound, and he started to think that it¡¯d be just fine if he stopped thinking about it.


    It¡¯s all fine since I¡¯ve managed to save a cute girl. If that girl is a murderer, it¡¯s fine so long as I confront her about it.


    Even though it should have been as simple as that, all kinds of things kept happening. The world continued to turn, completely leaving the individual called Seymour in the lurch, and he couldn¡¯t get a reading on the course of events at all. Even identifying a villain as a villain would lead to nowhere in this intoxicated city.


    Lumi is a monster. The murderer Lumi contributes to the peace of this city.


    What about it?


    Seymour was becoming more and more unsure about what he should do with the monster.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­I really need a drink right now.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    Hearing the honking of the car horn just as she stepped out of her university, Sunny¡¯s face immediately screwed up. The end of her lessons was accompanied by the setting sun, which gave her face a mysteriously impactful crimson gleam.


    Leaning against the door of his Essex, Seymour lightly waved his right hand causing the cigarette between his fingers to leave a faint trail of smoke. He added a smile too, though it wasn¡¯t so much directed at Sunny as to the female classmates near her.


    Sure enough this caused them to start chattering loudly amongst themselves. The girls noisily bombarded Sunny with questions as Sunny frantically responded.


    Chortling under his breath, Seymour entertained himself by imagining Sunny¡¯s retorts since he was too far away to hear them.


    ¡°¡ºYou¡¯re wrong, he¡¯s not my boyfriend. He¡¯s my bro, err, brother. Yep, my brother. So, no, I¡¯m not fooling around. L-i-s-t-e-n to me, you¡¯ve got it all wrooong!!¡», or something along those lines, right?¡±


    Sunny quickly jogged over after shaking off her classmates. Seymour was sure the faint blush on her cheeks wasn¡¯t just from being embarrassed.


    ¡°Hmm, ¡ºBrother, I told you to not wait for me in front of my university, didn¡¯t I?¡» is incoming.¡±


    Sunny¡¯s shoes skidded to a halt inches in front of Seymour. Sunny¡¯s boisterous voice rang out.


    ¡°Brother! I told you to not wait for me in front of my university, didn¡¯t I!?¡±


    ¡°Ahahahaha.¡±


    Seymour let out a bark of laughter, then took a puff and pointed with his thumb at his car.


    ¡°Wanna go on a date from now on? Or would you rather go home? I¡¯ll give you a ride.¡±


    ¡°Haaah¡­.. Take me home then.¡±


    Aside from his courier jobs, Seymour reckoned that Sunny was the woman who had enjoyed the services of his Essex the most. Of course, his sister didn¡¯t really count as a woman to him. Sunny deftly jumped into the car, and as soon as Seymour was sure she was settled on the back seat, he started his car.


    Sunny finally spoke up when they got caught in the third traffic light, her head swaying with the car as it jerked to a stop.


    ¡°Brother, is something the matter?¡±


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Usually when you just drive without even trying to ask me for anything, something has happened, you know?¡±


    Seymour unconsciously massaged his face with a hand.


    ¡°Hmm, am I so easy to read?¡±


    ¡°Your logic is weird, but it¡¯s not like you¡¯re complicated. It becomes obvious pretty quickly.¡± Sunny giggled while brushing her bangs out of the way.


    Seymour shook his head while looking into her green eyes. He hated expressions like you¡¯re an open book.


    ¡°Recently my sisters have become quite sharp. It¡¯s tough on your elder brother.¡±


    ¡°Eh? Wait, sisters, plural? Our family only has one daughter, doesn¡¯t it? Have you discovered some complicated family circumstances by chance?¡±


    Come to think of it, Fran and Sunny have never met, have they? Seymour tilted his head in contemplation as he watched Sunny yell from the back seat with a pale face.


    ¡°Ah, no, that¡¯s not it. I¡¯ve simply got a friend in the business who calls me¡ºBro¡».¡± 2


    ¡°Ugh, my brother is shadier than expected.¡±


    ¡°No, no, wait, almost everyone secretly wants to have a girl they know call them ¡ºBro¡», right?¡±


    ¡°Disgusting, absolutely and utterly disgusting! Regardless of whether it¡¯s true or not, you¡¯re really sick!¡±


    Seymour guffawed, and then let the topic drop. He had a vague feeling that Sunny was pressing her back against the back seat to put as much distance between them as possible, but he dismissed it as his imagination.


    Sunny¡¯s university wasn¡¯t very far from home. Which meant that he needed to bring up the reason he had come all this way to talk about with her quickly.


    He breathed in.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯d like to hear your opinion on. That¡¯s okay with you?¡±


    On that fearsome vampire, the man-eating monster, that occupied his mind. On the world he couldn¡¯t understand anymore. He needed to redine the world as he knew it. Recently he had been doing too many out of character things. There had been too many incidents. The boundaries that defined him as Seymour had been blurred and he needed to redraw them clearly. By nature, Seymour Road wasn¡¯t someone who would think about so many things.


    And in such times of doubt, Seymour would always bring it up with his sister.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, things have gone a little south at my job.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡± Sunny narrowed her eyes.


    She was terrifyingly quiet, but Seymour could tell from her eyes that her emotions were raging within her like a sandstorm. And yet, even though he had noticed it, Seymour barreled on cheerfully, ¡°How do I put it¡­? It looks like I¡¯ve been party to something unsavory. And I¡¯m sure it¡¯s still ongoing.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Take the next right.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that you wanted to go home?¡±


    ¡°I changed my mind.¡±


    Seymour drove, following Sunny¡¯s directions.


    ¡°Anyway, right now I¡¯ve been associating with a bad person. But you see, I don¡¯t have enough fighting spirit in me to confront them. That¡¯s why I¡¯m kinda unsure on what I should do next.¡± Seymour explained, citing it as the reason he had come to consult her.


    But, in reality, this wasn¡¯t grounds for a consultation whatsoever. After all, Seymour knew very well what Sunny¡¯s answer would be. It was plainly obvious.


    Sunny straightened in her seat, staring straight into Seymour¡¯s eyes. It was a gaze without a hint of darkness, full of conviction and confident righteousness.


    ¡°It is wrong to not punish bad people properly, brother.¡±


    Not a single word deviated from what Seymour had expected her to say. Each one was said clearly and distinctly in an even staccato.


    ¡°Bad things are bad. They must be punished.¡±


    A statement that would have elicited nothing but raucous laughter downtown. This city, with its rampant corruption and empty shell of a system of law, no longer knew the meaning of the word ¡®punishment¡¯.


    ¡°¡­¡­Figures.¡± Seymour nodded, even as a taste of iron flooded his mouth.


    In the past, when his father died, morality lost all meaning in the Road family. With the values they had been brought up with gone, the two children in the family were left at a loss. Between the two, the sly, older brother had left home as quickly as he could. He did so because the family still had a mother who, despite everything, had still clung to those morals. She did so because she couldn¡¯t bear the solitude.


    And because of this, the younger sister, who had been unable to leave the house, had had no other choice but to be close with her mother.


    ¡°You understand, don¡¯t you? We have to be fully aware that each of us has a home built on a hill. That¡¯s why we cannot overlook bad things.¡±


    That last line was an expression of the previous era¡¯s moldy ethics, and despite coming from his sister¡¯s mouth, it had still lost most of its former appeal. Having taken up the responsibility her brother had abandoned, his sister, who believed in morals that wouldn¡¯t be any less of a lie no matter how fervently she believed in them, thrust her righteousness at him. They didn¡¯t let Seymour ignore the bitterness and pain hidden behind pretty words and cheerful tones.


    Before long, Seymour¡¯s car stopped on a road by a river. Surveying the vicinity, he saw that they were in an industrial area, devoid of private houses or stores a female university student would enter. Yet, Seymour didn¡¯t ask where they were nor why they had come here. Because he fully understood that it didn¡¯t matter where they were.


    ¡°Thanks, brother.¡±


    The younger sister, who had refused to even let her elder brother drive her somewhere, politely expressed her gratitude, got out of the car, and stretched her body.


    Seymour could only respond shallowly with a vague sense of selfish sorrow, ¡°You¡¯re welcome. By the way, is it fine if I ask you one more thing?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s still more?¡±


    ¡°I might be killed by that bad person if I try to punish them. Do you think I should still go for it?¡±


    Sunny flashed a bright smile at him.


    Morals that didn¡¯t take any circumstances into account were a sort of emotional escape from reality for people. And since she had no interest in facing reality, Sunny¡¯s morals were broken, rather than merely damaged.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    That spelled the end of the conversation between the siblings. Seymour started his car, and almost immediately lost sight of Sunny who had started to walk away without even a backward glance. He briefly thought that it might be dangerous for a girl to be out on the streets all by herself so late in the evening, but dismissed it upon deciding that even Sunny wouldn¡¯t be that stupid. Besides, these days the mafia disputes were at a standstill, and public order had improved somewhat.


    Driving onward, Seymour took some slow breaths, stiff and awkward. He had anticipated that things would turn out like this when he decided to consult Sunny. Seymour had gained many things by leaving home and becoming a courier. On the other hand, he had left Sunny behind in that home and lost many things. Seymour had sacrificed Sunny.


    It¡¯s a pleasant feeling, he thought. It¡¯s a nice feeling of dismay. The disappointment I feel towards the world and her balances out with the disappointment I feel towards myself, making it easier for me to organize my thoughts.


    If I still saw Lumi as nothing more than a cute girl, I wouldn¡¯t have ever brought this topic up with Sunny.


    However, just now Seymour had sought his sister¡¯s advice, and she had lived up to his expectations. He¡¯d made up his mind.


    To be honest, it doesn¡¯t really matter what Sunny said. I don¡¯t have any interest in being a righteous person or what will happen when I stand before God. However, the mere fact that Sunny told me all that bears importance.


    I¡¯m well aware that I¡¯m where I am today because I run away and discard things. I rebuilt myself on the unchangeable past, the grief I caused others and my own imaginary sorrow. Seymour Road is who he is after transforming his sister into something like that. It¡¯s a sin that can never be forgiven. For this very reason, there must be in the mere existence of Seymour a value that is equivalent to everything I abandoned.


    He daydreamed of such things.


    Whether the murderer Lumi was good or evil, whether he should oppose the Murder Inc. or not; all those worries had become meaningless. He disregarded everything except for what was really important.


    Lumi had taken advantange of Seymour¡¯s job as courier, and used the information she extracted to commit murder. She had harmed the value of the Courier Seymour Road. That rang true even in this new and otherwise incomprehensible world. And that alone was plenty of reason to fight her.


    Well, let¡¯s just say that it¡¯s plenty.


    ¡°A crime requires a punishment, huh?¡±


    Putting a cigarette into his mouth, Seymour pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. He struck a match with one hand, but was quickly caught up in his thoughts, his hand frozen in midair. Soon the match burned down to Seymour¡¯s finger before ever reaching his cigarette.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 3.5

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 4 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°I had lots of fun!¡± Lumi happily exclaimed as she walked next to Seymour along the dark street at night. ¡°At first, I didn¡¯t think I would be able to keep up with something like boxing just by listening to it on the radio. But once I actually heard it, I was unexpectedly hooked.¡±


    They were on their way back home from the Holiday.


    Tonight there had been a title match between the long-reigning lightweight champion and his young challenger. Many homes had radios nowadays, but even though they could have listened to it at home, there were people who didn¡¯t think it was the same as getting together and getting hyped together. Contrary to what you might expect, Seymour¡¯s stance was that one needed to show up to these events, and thus he¡¯d come in to excitedly listen to the fight in the Holiday with Lumi.


    For a while now, Lumi had been loosely swinging her right arm, obviously picturing the instant the champion¡¯s powerful right hook shattered the challenger¡¯s titleship dreams. Her shapely legs being covered by trousers was a fresh change, too.


    With the sandwich he had bought at the Holiday in hand, Seymour loped along a little slower behind Lumi. He had a gentle smile on his face as he followed her.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear that you enjoyed it.¡±


    A faint tang of alcohol lingered on his breath. That didn¡¯t mean he had chosen to drink. But, with the Holiday being in a more chaotic state than usual, there was no way he¡¯d have been able to calmly enjoy a coffee. It wasn¡¯t unusual for alcohol to have been added to the various drinks at hand, which was why Seymour was now walking through the night.


    Multi-storey buildings lined the street, connected occasionally with junction bridges. The girl, the moon, and the night. Framed by the buildings and bridges, these three formed a beautiful scene right out of a painting.


    The champion¡¯s clever match pacing, and the challenger¡¯s bold way of attacking. Carrying a lively conversation like close friends would do, speculating on what and how the champion might have been defeated, their shadows melted into the night.


    There were many cars out on the road. Their occupants might have enjoyed the boxing match at the actual venue or simply listened to it live at some bar or restaurant just like Seymour. Traffic as you wouldn¡¯t expect at night slowed everything down on the road.


    Trucks whizzed past the sidewalk, inches away from impact and blowing Lumi¡¯s hair around with them. Seymour narrowed his eyes, as if each and every strand held secrets.


    The junction bridges cast big shadows that formed even darker spots on the dark nighttime pavement. Stopping just one step short of such a shadow, Seymour tried to call out and say to Lumi¡ºLet¡¯s cross the road around here¡».


    However, the words he had on the tip of his tongue and the words he actually said were completely different.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Even when you heard about the state of the war through the radio, you laughed. Didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Lumi stopped. The wind, the cars, the hustle and bustle; all of it sounded awfully loud to him. Lumi blended into the shadows, making it impossible for him to see her expression even though he could make out the fact that she had turned to look back over her shoulder.


    ¡°Maybe I did. A war happens, it¡¯s broadcast, and everyone enjoys it; I don¡¯t see what else I could do but laugh about it, now that the world has come to this.¡±


    Seymour hadn¡¯t meant it like that. Even without having it spelt out for her, Lumi probably knew as much.


    She took an audible step towards him.


    ¡°So, what about you, Mr. Seymour?¡±


    Dread welled up in his heart. I have to start walking again, he believed. I must cut this conversation off and keep walking home.


    However, there were countless cars on the road, making a crossing next to impossible.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°What would you do if you heard such a thing on the radio?¡±


    I¡­


    No answer to that question came to his mind. Lumi wrapped her arm around Seymour¡¯s, grasping his hand in hers. He could sense her comfortable softness and her gentle pulse.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like we¡¯ll be able to cross the road, does it?¡±


    Lumi began to walk, and Seymour was forcibly dragged along since she was still holding his arm. They headed not towards the road, but into the shadows of one of the array of buildings.


    Seymour suddenly had a feeling that his life was in danger, even though he was still confused as to what she was planning.


    ¡°Hey©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°In the first place, why is it wrong for me to laugh? At people and the death of people.¡±


    Lumi kept walking. Her toes met the outer wall of the building.


    ¡°As I said©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think that it¡¯s like it gives being alive some meaning?¡±


    Lumi kept walking. Vertically, the soles of her feet sticking to the wall.


    ¡°Wha©¤©¤©¤©¤!?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think that being alive is something wonderful?¡±


    Seymour tried to pull away from Lumi in panic. But to no avail.


    Lumi¡¯s hand, which had him in a vise-grip, didn¡¯t budge at all. Lumi¡¯s slender fingers, which were entwined around Seymour¡¯s wrist, had him trapped far better than any handcuffs could manage. Paying no heed to Seymour¡¯s fervent struggle, Lumi walked up the wall.


    Seymour¡¯s right hand was pulled up.


    ¡°Even though no one can ever guarantee something like that?¡±


    Lumi trudged on. Inevitably, Seymour was forced upwards as well. His toes left the ground. His wrist and elbow screamed at him in pain as his full weight hung from his right hand. The ground was rapidly getting further away. Even though Lumi¡¯s pace felt relaxed, the width of her strides and the distance they were actually traveling didn¡¯t match.


    ¡°Even though there¡¯s absolutely no meaning in me being born?¡±


    Lumi¡¯s feet didn¡¯t stop. They continued on interminably. Until they finally reached the junction bridge halfway up the building. There, her feet stepped onto the underside of the bridge, where she finally stopped, upside down. They were several dozen meters above the ground. In a place impossible for a human to have reached by themselves, she calmly showed him an upside down smile.


    Lumi treated the underside of the bridge like the ground, switching heaven and earth. Beneath her hung Seymour. The sandwich had earlier slipped out of Seymour¡¯s hand and was now a messy splat on the ground many meters below him. If Lumi were to let go of his hand, it¡¯d be Seymour¡¯s turn.


    ¡°Guuh!¡±


    ¡°Besides, Mr. Seymour.¡±


    Only Lumi¡¯s hair hung down towards him in the darkness. Gravity pulled it down to twine like spider¡¯s silk around Seymour¡¯s face.


    ¡°Besides, hehe, something like war on the radio¡­if being alive is so wonderful, you shouldn¡¯t have said something like that.¡±


    Seymour could see the blazing glow of her eyes through the strands of her hair.


    ¡°If being alive is so wonderful, you must first and foremost protect your own life, Mr. Seymour. If you don¡¯t treat it with respect, then your priorities are all backwards.¡±


    He was swaying irregularly. Entirely suspended by just his right arm, he was swaying.


    This is a threat.


    An eerily calm demeanor and countering that, a violent threat. Even though cold sweat ran down his spine from how he was being toyed with, Seymour still spoke up.


    ¡°That¡¯s©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Pain.


    His right arm hurt. Tied down by gravity, his body was hurting itself. However, at the same time Seymour recalled his sister. The little sister he had hurt and broken.


    That illusion made it so that he couldn¡¯t help but say, ¡°That¡¯s the reasoning of a monster, and not that of a human.¡±


    Lumi started to laugh in a high-pitched tone, so pleasantly and sweetly that it was actually surprising.


    ¡°You make it sound as though humans aren¡¯t monsters of sorts.¡±


    In the next instant, a strong gust hit Seymour in the face without any warning. He closed his eyes instinctively, and realized that it hadn¡¯t been wind, it had been the sensation of being carried off somewhere.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤gh.¡±


    Stillness.


    Hurriedly forcing his eyes open after feeling that they had come to a halt, he found himself on the opposite sidewalk to where he had been a little while ago. In the few seconds he had closed his eyes, he had crossed the road that shouldn¡¯t have been possible to cross.


    Both his feet were planted on the ground, and no hand was grasping him. Lumi was several steps away from him and was looking his way with a gentle smile on her lips.


    Shaking out her hand like she had exerted herself with some minor physical work, Lumi said, ¡°Pheew, it¡¯s a little easier to get home now, right Mr. Seymour?¡±, as if she had done all that with this in mind.


    His thoughts and tongue were still paralysed with the fear that had coursed through him moments ago. Averting his eyes from Lumi, Seymour didn¡¯t make any mistakes in replying this time, ¡°Quite so.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    Seymour spent the day after the incident with Lumi feeling unsteady, like he was still reeling. The illusion that he was dangling and could fall at any moment loomed over him.


    For this reason, Seymour sought a distinct change. The power to change the situation. It was so obvious where he needed to go to cope with the threat called Lumi Spike that it was laughable.


    Seymour leaned against the counter of Hornsby Cigar Store.


    ¡°Won¡¯t you sell me a bomb?¡±


    The cigar fell out of Fran¡¯s mouth after hearing this sudden question.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Have you finally despaired of the world and decided to kill yourself?¡±


    ¡°Tell me, why is that the very first thought you have?¡±


    ¡°Mister, people like you give off a restrained and mild-mannered impression all their life, but when you decide to die you really throw off all those restraints and go all out, don¡¯t you think?¡± Fran repeatedly nodded at her own words.


    Her statement seemed to be based on some kind of conclusion she had formed, but Seymour was smart enough to not probe further. He had decided that poking his nose into what she, an information broker, might or might not know probably wasn¡¯t a wise choice.


    It was mid-afternoon; the sun had not yet begun to set. Daytime was meaningless to Seymour, and he¡¯d be asleep around this time usually, but he was here today for a reason.


    Fran placed her chin on the counter and curiously asked Seymour as he failed to suppress a tired yawn, ¡°Or rather, why would you need a bomb if you don¡¯t want to kill yourself?¡±


    ¡°Normally you¡¯d need a bomb to blow something up, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Blow up who?¡±


    ¡°Something.¡±


    ¡°I see. So you¡¯re going to blow someone up, huh?¡±


    ¡°Listen to me.¡±


    Fran pursed her lips, booing at him.


    ¡°But, I don¡¯t really like bombs, you see?¡±


    ¡°It sure is unusual for you to dislike something that isn¡¯t a cigar brand.¡±


    ¡°Bombs leave nothing behind, so they suck.¡±


    ¡°I told you, listen to me. Also, give me nice strong cigarettes later, too.¡±


    Since he had visited Fran today to buy information, Seymour still had cigarettes from the last time. But, despite that, Seymour still put in an order for new ones.


    Fran picked up the cigar she had dropped moments ago, wiped the dirt off it, and put it back into her mouth. She took a few pulls, rekindling the dying embers before she cocked her head to the side in confusion.


    ¡°Or rather, this place sells information, not bombs, you know?¡±


    ¡°But, you can sell them. Bombs, that is. Right?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡­¡­we can at least act as an intermediary and point you to the right place.¡±


    With a sigh, Fran spun in her chair and turned her back to Seymour. There were a lot of shelves installed within arm¡¯s reach for her, despite how short she was. She was apparently looking for information stored on those shelves.


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer it to be a bomb with a timer, also as small as possible.¡±


    ¡°Which reminds me, Mister, do you know of the Murder Inc.?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s heart jumped when she abruptly brought up the name. However, Fran had merely mentioned the name as part of her idle chatter and hadn¡¯t noticed his agitation. After prudently seeing through that fact, Seymour nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about them, at least.¡±


    ¡°Well, considering the job you¡¯re doing, I guess it¡¯s not weird for you to have heard of them. Ah, but how truly regrettable. One of my favorite pastimes is explaining all kinds of things to you to earn your admiration.¡± Fran chuckled without a hint of actual regret. ¡°Anyway, about that Murder Inc., it¡¯s funny that the current company president claims to be the second generation. I mean, in the beginning it was a company in name only that didn¡¯t even have any employees, let alone a president.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­What¡¯s up with that? Oh, please make sure that the bomb is strong enough to blow up a garage.¡± As he said it, Seymour¡¯s nose registered a faint smell of mud hanging in the air.


    ¡°The trigger appears to have been five unrelated murders that all seemed to have occured all of a sudden. By mere coincidence and chance, five people were murdered at the same time, and they all happened to be members of the mafia.¡±


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤As a result, it ended an ongoing dispute.


    Fran cracked her neck as if she wished that she had been able to see the murder scenes.


    ¡°The mafia, who were forced to abruptly end the dispute, must have had some suspicions deep down: ¡ºSomething like this is impossible. Someone must have perpetrated this whole show¡». Their attention was drawn with those five murders, and before long, the name Murder Inc. cropped up.¡±


    A series of mysterious crimes that were never committed and an organization responsible for them despite not actually existing. A company called Murder Inc. had settled the dispute, something that shouldn¡¯t be possible under normal circumstances.


    ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is that the current Murder Inc. is just a copycat of the urban legend that is Murder Inc., something that was supposedly created before all of this but never actually existed?¡± Even as the words left his mouth, he realized how strange it all was.


    A vampire that shouldn¡¯t exist was hired by a company that shouldn¡¯t exist. And at this very moment Seymour the individual was about to be crushed by these two supposedly non-existent things.


    ¡°You got it. The power of people¡¯s imagination is terrifying. The minds of the people, who refused to believe in coincidence, created an unreal shadow with the name Murder Inc.¡±


    Fran whirled around in her chair once more. Her eyes homed in on Seymour. When he saw a sort of murkiness in them, Seymour was shaken for an instant. But then she blinked and that vague feeling disappeared, just leaving behind Fran¡¯s usual eyes, dulled by smoke.


    ¡°Do you understand, Mister? Whenever people reminisce about the past, they¡¯ll imagine things they couldn¡¯t have experienced. They¡¯ll manufacture a selfish story that does nothing but chain facts together. But, sometimes those fictions will betray reality. And likewise, there are times when that betrayed reality will turn into fact.¡±


    ¡°Is it okay if I just sum it up as mafia folks being foolish?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say you could take it like that, too. Here you go. Are you really going to buy that, even after all that?¡±


    Fran had placed a pack of cigarettes and a piece of paper on the counter. Seymour suspected that the memo had where he could buy a bomb written on it.


    He carefully and slowly analyzed what she had told him.


    ¡®Maybe she¡¯s warning me. Detonating a bomb isn¡¯t just a matter of the physical realm. The fact that I¡¯ve bought a bomb will naturally spread throughout the city. It¡¯s also possible that Fran is going to sell that information. And that very fact is a kind of a bomb in and of itself.


    No one would know why Seymour bought the bomb. Just the fact that he had done so would spread, allowing people to speculate to their wildest imaginations. That alone was more than enough to blow up the existence that was Seymour¡­probably.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Realizing that fact, Seymour grabbed the cigarette package, and with it, the piece of paper, fully aware of what that meant.


    ¡°¡­¡­I see, I see.¡± Fran shook her head while looking down.


    He opened the package, took out a cigarette, and lit it up before paying. Seymour filled his lungs to the brim with smoke that seemed to sting more than usual.


    Although it contradicted the boundaries that he had defined himself as, he abandoned everything. He filled himself with the shortsighted sense of self-worth that came from deciding that punishing a murderer was all that mattered and decided that it didn¡¯t matter what others might think.


    ¡°Thanks. How much do I owe you?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s call it even with the debt from the other day.¡± Fran shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Mister, since you like bombs so much, how about you go Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to your hearts¡¯ content in a place of your choice?¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°Bye bye.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª End of Part 5 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

 Volume 1 - CH 3.6

    ¡ºMakdi Makdi ¨C wall inside the shop ¨C third from below ¨C fourth from the left ¨C red paint can¡»


    This was all that was written on the memo.


    Is that going to be enough? In other words, if I go to this place, and buy this, I¡¯ll have a bomb. Though I don¡¯t know whether the bomb has been put into the paint can in advance or if I¡¯ll need to exchange the can for it at the register.


    There was a slight problem since Seymour didn¡¯t know where the Makdi Makdi store was, but that wouldn¡¯t be too hard to fix.


    If I enter some random shops and ask the employees over there, as long as it¡¯s not a completely unknown store, someone will know. The fact that Fran hasn¡¯t told me how to find it must mean that this method should work.


    Fortunately Seymour¡¯s plan bore fruit at the third shop he entered to ask. Lightly waving a hand at the female clerk who had told him what he wanted to know, he walked over to the Essex he had parked in front of the shop.


    I think it¡¯s going to take me around 15 minutes by car. Looks like I¡¯ll be able to find this place while the sun¡¯s still up.


    Just when he was about to open the car door, someone called out to him from behind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Oh? Ain¡¯t that Seymour!?¡±


    Seymour couldn¡¯t immediately identify the speaker from just the voice, but he naturally turned around without putting up his guard. It didn¡¯t occur to him in the slightest that he ought to be wary either. Basically, he was pretty sure that it was someone who had been close to him in the past but had now grown estranged.


    He turned towards the voice with that thought, and his eyes widened when he spotted someone he hadn¡¯t expected at all.


    ¡°¡­¡­Michael?¡±


    For just a fleeting moment, his days as a student flashed through his mind. A young man in a well tailored suit stepped up to him. Although there was an unfamiliar mustache on his face, Seymour remembered those finely chiseled facial features very well.


    Michael Touring ¨C an senior who had looked after Seymour when he still was a student.


    ¡°Oh, oh, I wasn¡¯t expecting to meet you here. So, what have you been up to?¡± Michael powerfully slapped Seymour¡¯s shoulder once he was close enough.


    Seymour frowned even as his lips stretched into an involuntary smile upon Michael¡¯s nostalgic pushiness.


    ¡°I could ask you the same. Since you¡¯re in a suit, I¡¯m guessing work? Sure doesn¡¯t suit you, though.¡±


    ¡°You got it. You still doing the same old thing? You haven¡¯t changed a bit, man.¡±


    ¡°So©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    The carefree smile on Seymour¡¯s lips froze immediately. Because he had heard footsteps, followed by a woman who came and snuggled against Michael¡¯s side. Gorgeous blond hair, and a voluptuous body. She put an arm around Michael¡¯s waist.


    A woman unknown to Seymour. One he didn¡¯t recall having ever seen.


    The woman spoke up with a sweet tone that seemed to bewitch anyone listening, ¡°Michael, is he someone you know?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Rosalia. Come to think of it, this is the first time you¡¯re meeting, isn¡¯t it? Let me introduce you two. This guy is Seymour. He was a junior of mine at school, and works in the transport industry right now. Seymour, this is Rosalia. My wife.¡±


    If he was frank about it, Seymour didn¡¯t remember a single word she said ¨C probably some sort of greeting following Michael¡¯s introduction ¨C nor did he know what he had answered. But, he apparently managed to give a proper response. By the time he came to his senses, it had been decided that Seymour would drive Michael and his wife to the neighborhood of their home, and he was already sitting in the driver¡¯s seat of his Essex as usual.


    What kept playing in his head like a refrain all this time was a scene from the past.


    A head that was politely lowered. A pretty whorl of hair on the head. A dearly missed life inside his car. Seymour¡¯s first job.


    He didn¡¯t recall much about the woman back then, but at the very least he knew she didn¡¯t have a flashy name like Rosalia. Moreover, Michael had said it was their first meeting when he had introduced Rosalia to Seymour.


    Despite the fact that his brain had completely stalled, Seymour¡¯s mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, yapping on without a care. Noticing that, he almost laughed at himself. Letting his mouth run off with random stuff all the time was quite handy at times like these.


    ¡°Still, I gotta say, Seymour, you really haven¡¯t changed at all. You¡¯re still doing an unreliable job like this?¡±


    ¡°By the time I realized, I had missed the timing to call it quits.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s no good, man. We¡¯re already adults. We have to contribute to society and properly provide for our families. You gotta fulfill your responsibilities as a man.¡±


    ¡°Haha, it looks like I suck at these kinds of things. My true character is being blithe and irresponsible, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Give it a rest, Michael. It¡¯s a bad habit of yours to push your own values on others like that. Despite being so young, he¡¯s so hard-working. Right, Mr. Seymour?¡±


    ¡°Hey, hey, wait a minute. You¡¯re calling this guy hard-working? Want me to tell you how much of an idiot this guy was during his student days? Let me warn you though, it¡¯s going to take all night.¡±


    ¡°For the most part, that applies to you as well, Michael, are you sure you want to do that?¡±


    ¡°Oh my, I¡¯d love to hear the full details. Could you elaborate?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s really bad. Stop, stop! We¡¯re newly-weds, okay? What are you going to do if she suddenly files for divorce?¡±


    A red light. The car came to a halt with a screech. A vibration. Maybe because he had pitched forward with the sudden stop, but the words that had been swirling around inside his head suddenly spilled out of Seymour¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Which reminds me, Michael, did you split up with the previous person?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Previous person?¡±


    ¡°Look, I mean, umm, the person I drove around.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Aaahh!¡± After tilting his head in confusion for a bit, Michael suddenly laughed out loud. ¡°Dude, what kind of old story are you digging up there!? That¡¯s from back when I was still a brat, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­You have a point there.¡±


    He started the car again, leaving the words that had spilled out behind.


    That was probably all it meant to Michael. Even after bringing up his former girlfriend, Michael didn¡¯t look perturbed in the least, and Rosalia didn¡¯t seem to mind either. In short, their relationship was strong and bolstered by mutual feelings. They had built a bond that wouldn¡¯t be shaken by something of that level. Michael had discarded this past.


    Eventually they arrived in the street that Michael had requested to be the destination, and Seymour stopped his car once more. Michael opened the door with a trustworthy grin.


    ¡°Man, don¡¯t mess around for the rest of your life, okay? If you need me to, I can at least introduce you to some open jobs.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll rely on you when it comes to that.¡±


    Rosalia stepped out of the car, showing off her long legs and never even glancing back at Seymour. Of course Seymour noticed that she had dusted off her butt with one hand after it had come in contact with the seat of his Essex. He watched them walk away together while recalling a certain whorl of hair.


    He sighed.


    It was a story of that extent. A situation limited to nothing more than that.


    Leaning back, he looked up at the car¡¯s ceiling, and let out yet another sigh. He exhaled all the air in his body just like that, and felt like turning into a thin piece of paper and flying off somewhere. He continued to breathe out stubbornly until he completely ran out of air. But, in the end it didn¡¯t change anything, and since he was still alive, he had to breathe. After taking a rather involuntary breath in, Seymour got out of the car.


    Makdi Makdi was right around the corner. On autopilot, his body passed through the entranceway of a very unassuming general store. An elderly person, who seemed to be half asleep, stood at the register. Weaving his way down the gaps between the stuffed shelves in the cramped store, Seymour headed deeper inside.


    He came to a stop in front of a shelf that hosted a wide array of paint cans. Seymour absentmindedly wondered how many people in this city were aware that one of the cans here contained a bomb.


    ¡°Third from below¡­¡­fourth from the left¡­¡­¡± He mumbled the instructions on the memo under his breath, but didn¡¯t lift his arm.


    If he took the bomb home, he might be able to kill Lumi. No matter how powerful a vampire she might be, there was no way she¡¯d be able to cope with the garage blowing up around her in the daytime while she was asleep. Even, or maybe especially if she was that legendary being, that dream of the era, she shouldn¡¯t be capable of fending off sunlight, her greatest and most obvious weak point.


    But, what about it?


    Seymour suddenly questioned why he had decided to fight her. He slowly lifted his index finger to trace the paint can in question. However, that can was heavy and didn¡¯t seem like it could be moved, like it was rooted to the shelf.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour had left home in search for something definite that ought to exist in the world, and began to work in an attempt to cling to something definite. Being a courier was a tiny, weak light in the darkness he was navigating, Seymour discovered. He moved things from one place to another, creating value by ensuring everything went smoothly. It was an action with clear significance that was difficult to deny.


    Even though that was meant to be true, Seymour was left with nothing once he had learned that all that had been meaningless. All reason and sentiment had been pulverized by the cold impartiality of worthlessness. Even his past sins ©¤©¤ the fact that he was who he was right now because he had sacrificed a single girl, his little sister, didn¡¯t feel like as much of a driving force as it had been before.


    Unable to endure the weight of the bomb, his finger veered off to a simple, unrelated can next to the can with the bomb. That can, full of red paint, made him feel like he was grabbing someone¡¯s freshly severed head.


    Seymour slowly made his way to the register, and placed the can on the counter with a clang. Even the weight of a single paint can was too much to bear for his hand that had never held anything to begin with.


    ¡°Welcome.¡±


    As the old man talked, the beard around his mouth shifted around. Feeling like he was older than the clerk, Seymour mumbled while bowing towards the counter, ¡°I¡¯m sure. Value is just a hallucination. You won¡¯t find value anywhere. Not in me, not in you, and not in this world.¡±


    Like his body had become hollow inside, his own words echoed within. Nothing was written in stone about the world. Absolute value didn¡¯t exist anywhere. Even the rule that you mustn¡¯t kill others wasn¡¯t actually set in stone.


    ¡°That¡¯s why stuff like sins and punishments don¡¯t exist either.¡±


    The old man grabbed the red paint can, and cocked his head to the side in puzzlement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t quite get what you¡¯re saying, but this can costs 2.42 Dollars.¡±


    The old man implicitly told Seymour that he wouldn¡¯t hand over the can until he paid for it.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    Lumi Spike was already awake by the time he came back to the garage.


    After she had started to live with him, Seymour had mostly stopped being active during the day. Not to mention something so out of character as coming home with an unfamiliar can in hand and lowering the shutter without even driving his Essex into the garage.


    It was only natural that the vampire girl would have suspicion in her eyes as she stood dumbfoundedly still inside their home. Seymour tossed the can at her.


    ¡°¡­¡­Whaa!? What is this?¡±


    Lumi caught the can with both her hands, and seemed confused as she looked at its red exterior.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you? Every once in a while, I paint my walls. As a change of pace.¡±


    ¡°You never mentioned anything, but¡­¡­well, it¡¯s obvious if you look at this wall.¡±


    It was a wall that had been painted over many times with layers of designs that had been carved into it over and over again. Looking at that, Lumi smiled wryly.


    Seymour grinned at her, ¡°So, let¡¯s catch a break together.¡±


    Once you gave up on everything, it became easy to do anything. Even as he stood here with a monster that had caused him to tremble so much before he didn¡¯t feel any fear and was able to simply smile like before.


    ¡°Recently, there¡¯s really only been stuff that brought down the mood. Let¡¯s change that mood by changing the wall¡¯s color.¡±


    ¡°That sounds great. It¡¯s a lovely idea! Let me get ready to paint then. I¡¯ll search for a paint brush, and then we¡¯ll©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤No.¡± Seymour shook his head distinctly.


    He stopped Lumi from opening the can. He took a breath, and made sure there was a smile on his face. While imagining that his head would be blown off the second he said his next words, despite everything and anything in him being paralyzed, he spoke up.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be the one to splash the paint, Lumi Spike.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°You can do that, can¡¯t you? If it¡¯s you, you can splash the paint across the entire garage without any preparations, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it like that. That¡¯ll be fine. Let¡¯s paint over everything like that.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    A long silence. Seymour had no doubt that Lumi was picturing killing him and leaving the garage. Her good-looking face had frozen, looking like a death mask, and it seemed as though even her breathing and heart rate had come to a grinding halt.


    Then she sighed.


    When Lumi¡¯s shoulders twitched, he thought that he¡¯d definitely be killed for real and not just in Lumi¡¯s imagination, but Lumi just placed the fingertips of her right hand on the paint can.


    ¡°Very well. Let¡¯s do it like that.¡±


    Her slender white fingertips swayed. Just this small movement caused the can to dance through the air. The can spun before gravity caught up to it, and Lumi¡¯s fingertips blurred in the instant it stopped moving. They turned into fog.


    The thin mist that Lumi¡¯s fingers had become pierced the can with a sword-like sharpness, contrary to their appearance. Seymour was certain that she had used the same trick during the second attack when the water tank crashed down. That clear cross-section, that had clearly been cut by something beyond sharp, crossed Seymour¡¯s mind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Aha.¡±


    Immediately following this, the paint can burst open from within.


    ¡°Aha, ahahahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha!¡± Lumi laughed happily within the crimson rain. Her extended arms, her hair as it fanned out as she spun, and everything else was painted over red. The bloody color was hurled in all directions like it had exploded and splattered across the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the furniture, Seymour, Lumi and everything else equally.


    ¡°Kuh, haha, hahahahahaha!¡± Without realizing it, Seymour was laughing as well.


    He couldn¡¯t resist the overwhelming feeling of happiness. The moment the can burst open, it felt as if his former self had burst open too. The trivial past created by the courier Seymour Road, and all the sins he couldn¡¯t atone for completely evaporated.


    In the end, it was just a can¡¯s worth of red paint. Even though it didn¡¯t take very long for all the paint to land on some sort of surface, the two were out of breath when they came to themselves, broadly grinning as they faced each other.


    ¡°What should we do? It¡¯s splashed all over the entire garage.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that just fine? The ugliness kinda suits us.¡±


    ¡°Idiooot. You¡¯re the only one who¡¯s ugly here.¡±


    A blob of paint thrown by Lumi hit Seymour¡¯s face.

 Volume 1 - CH 4.1

    Lumi Spike never brings up her ¡ºMother¡».


    Seymour suddenly realized this one week after his eyes had grown accustomed to the red splashed on the walls. On a quiet day when he had decided to take a break from work and read a book at home.


    ¡°Uhnn,¡± Lumi groaned quietly.


    Her body had sunk halfway into the floor. No, that wasn¡¯t an accurate description. Her body wasn¡¯t in the ground, but rather a shadow. Seymour¡¯s shadow, to be precise, stretched out long behind him in the light of the naked bulb. She was settled all the way up to her shoulders, reading a magazine and looking for all the world as if she were lounging in the tub. For a while now she had been immodestly raising a long, smooth leg out of the shadow, only to let it drop back in the next moment.


    Just the other day, unable to stifle his curiosity, Seymour had tried to ask her how it felt to delve into shadows.


    ¡ºI¡¯d say it feels a bit like a cat sleeping in a sunny spot, though it¡¯s not like I can be sure of how that feels¡» was the answer he received.


    At any rate, Lumi lazily read like this for a while, but quickly began to play around, repeatedly looking up then back at her magazine, eventually just letting it fall on the floor with a whap.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, what should we do for lunch today? I¡¯ve been looking up all kinds of recipes in this magazine, but you know, I think I¡¯d like to have a specific goal in mind.¡±


    ¡°Anything works for me. I¡¯m not picky. Just make something edible.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t any of the girls you¡¯ve been with told you that they hated you for saying something like that?¡±


    ¡°Come to think of it, the last time I said that to a girl, she threw raw pasta into my face.¡±


    ¡°No wonder. And what did you do with it?¡±


    ¡°Well, it turns out that if you chew thoroughly enough, they¡¯re edible.¡±


    ¡°So you really weren¡¯t joking when you said that you¡¯d eat anything edible!?¡±


    Seymour thought about things as he casually chatted with Lumi about things that had less and less substance by the minute.


    He felt like Lumi wouldn¡¯t ever have said something like this before. The majority of her knowledge and behavior had been shaped by whatever entity she called her mother. And he suspected that this was yet another lie to get on his good side.


    If I remember correctly, according to the president of Murder Inc., Lumi never spent enough time as just a girl to learn these things from a mother.


    Therefore her entire character sheet ©¤ the tendency to rely on the knowledge her mother had taught her, the display of weakness that was shivering in a sewer pipe after suddenly running away from his home, and the boldness to abruptly demand he call her by name ©¤ it was a setup to ensure that Seymour would allow Lumi to stay with him.


    If he was honest, Seymour couldn¡¯t deny that this fake character was tailored extremely well for the intended goal, given his character and history.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    He was just about to examine his feelings on the matter but stopped abruptly. He shifted his eyes to the portable stove as Lumi slipped out of the shadow and stretched. It seemed like she was going to start cooking, but she shook her head instead, looking terribly annoyed.


    ¡°Haah, aren¡¯t you revealing an awful lot about how men act when they think they¡¯re popular?¡±


    ¡°No problem. I¡¯m just someone who wants to experience love. Racking your brains as you think about your partner is a form of love, right? I want to see that.¡±


    ¡°Whoaa, isn¡¯t that the kind of statement that might work while everything is still new, but destroys any chance of a long-term relationship?¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much about my personal track record with women?¡±


    Lumi laughed loudly at Seymour¡¯s miserable look.


    This was yet another difference. As usual, she made sure to never declare herself to be a hitman. But besides that, she had started to allow a thread of her true sarcastic nature through.


    ¡°No helping it. I¡¯ll whip something up, so please wait for a bit.¡±


    Lumi went to the corner she had recently cleaned and turned into a cooking area. Tying the apron around it made her already slender waist seem even more petite, forming a rather provocative image. After tying the hair in a simple bun behind her head, Lumi looked for the kitchen knife Seymour had used to open some stubborn wrapping paper yesterday, and was lying in a corner of the room far away from the gas burner.


    ¡°¡­¡­For heaven¡¯s sake, can¡¯t he keep things tidy for once?¡± Lumi muttered while quickly lifting a hand.


    That arm vanished into a mist from the elbow down. A thin dark vapor crossed the room. That formless but unexpectedly tangible mist easily picked up the knife before returning to being Lumi¡¯s lower arm again.


    ¡°Quite the convenient skill you got there.¡± Seymour muttered under his breath as he adjusted the service creeper he was using instead of a chair.


    This was probably the biggest change of all. Lumi had stopped hiding her vampiric nature. For a while now she had been revealing parts of her abilities bit by bit, but each time it had been for a clear reason, such as exposing her arm to the river to prevent them falling off the bridge, transforming into bats during their deliveries, or threatening Seymour. He suspected that she had made sure not to show off too many of her inhuman abilities, keeping them at a level that Seymour could accept.


    But now it was different. Now she used it merely for convenience and because she could, rather than for some grand purpose, leisurely resting in Seymour¡¯s shadow or turning her arm into mist to pick up a kitchen knife. Just like humans used their hands to hold things and their feet to walk, Lumi naturally manifested her abilities as a vampire.


    Seymour stared at the red paint on the wall. Having been splashed rather haphazardly, it was thicker in some parts than others, throwing complex shadows in the light of the bulb.


    I¡¯m sure that was the start of it.


    Lumi had received Seymour¡¯s approval to use her powers. That had changed the nature of their relationship. Seymour didn¡¯t know if it was a change for the better or worse, but he was certain that what he thought didn¡¯t actually matter.


    He continued to stare vacantly at Lumi¡¯s back. His eyes followed the swaying ends of her hair. The dull silver radiance burned itself into his eyes, and just as the swaying was about to lull him to sleep, Lumi suddenly turned around.


    Her brows were furrowed and she had her hands against her hips.


    ¡°Give it a rest, will you? I can¡¯t calm down over here.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­Really?¡±


    ¡°Even if you don¡¯t watch me so intensely, I¡¯ll prepare a delicious lunch rather than some dry pasta.¡±


    It¡¯s not like I actually thought you¡¯d do something like that, is what Seymour felt like telling her, but he figured it would be too troublesome to explain so he just let out a weak laugh instead.


    But because he didn¡¯t explain, he was left wondering how she had interpreted his reaction when she moved.


    Lumi sighed, took the frying pan off the stove, and briskly walked over. By the time Seymour processed the sight of her slender legs in front of him, he was already in her shadow as she leaned over him.


    Her lips pressed against his forehead. A softness that lasted for but a fleeting moment.


    Pulling back, Lumi wasn¡¯t bashful in the least, the corners of her mouth instead quirking up in apparent satisfaction.


    ¡°Well, that should be enough to tide over your need for love, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    After considering it for a moment, Seymour spread both arms.


    ¡°I see. I¡¯d be even happier if you didn¡¯t stop at that, though.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just tell you? I¡¯m in the middle of preparing lunch. Please wait a little while longer, okay?¡± With those words, Lumi ruffled Seymour¡¯s hair, and then walked back towards the stove.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    Seymour curled up, unable to resist the urge to puke. Large quantities of vomit gushed out of his gaping mouth. He retched again and again, throwing up the watery contents of his stomach. He was unnaturally aware that his back was twitching and convulsing like a bug right before its wings emerged. The food, which had been delicious, had been now reduced to filth underneath Seymour¡¯s body.


    He only managed to stand up after he was sure that his stomach was empty.


    It was currently deep in the night. A few hours after he had stuffed himself with a hefty dinner. The moon was well on its way towards the western sky.


    Seymour, who had made sure to aim for the river from his spot on the riverbank behind the garage, noticed some of his puke hadn¡¯t made it all the way into the river, and kicked it into the water with the tip of his foot.


    His stomach was now empty, but his nausea hadn¡¯t abated. It still felt like someone had stuck a hand into his stomach and was churning it up. Seymour forced himself to stop wheezing, an involuntary response to his vomiting, and spat out the sour taste in his mouth before roughly swiping a hand over it.


    For the last week, his days had been filled with sudden but intense nausea. Seymour tried to think back for a reason as he tottered back to the garage. His physical condition wasn¡¯t bad. Rather, ever since he had started to live with Lumi, his eating habits had drastically improved. He also found it difficult to believe that Lumi would poison his food.


    Returning to the garage, he headed straight for the toolbox. With trembling fingers, he opened the hot chocolate can that he had buried under a heap of tools. Carelessly pouring the powder into a mug, he added some of the hot water that Lumi never failed to prepare for him.


    He ran out of strength just as he finished making the hot chocolate and slowly flopped down on the ground. Seymour licked at the hot liquid that had splashed onto his hand when the mug shook.


    ¡°Sweet.¡±


    And then he turned his thoughts back to the question of why he was feeling so sick. His eyes kept roving the room restlessly. Lumi Spike was nowhere to be found. She had curtly informed him that she was stepping out, transformed into a cloud of bats, and melted into the night sky.


    She hadn¡¯t directly stated that she was out to kill someone. However, Seymour thought it was pretty likely all the same.


    But what about it? It bore no meaning whatsoever for him. This fact had been drilled into him over and over throughout the life of Seymour Road. Since nothing had tangible value and every action and reason was equivalent, there was no such thing as sin or punishment either. Everything was equal in its worthlessness.


    Because of that, none of this was extraordinary. Not the monster that was Lumi, settling down here, nor Lumi frequently killing people and sucking their blood.


    Seymour tried to get his breathing under control. He perceived himself as single moving body. He forcefully suppressed his own body like you¡¯d cover the windows with wooden planks before a storm. He repeatedly told himself that his body¡¯s trembling and nausea was meaningless until his heart could come to terms with it.


    It would all be fine as long as he could maintain his happy daily life. Having the gentle and beautiful Lumi Spike stay in his sights brought the highest happiness for Seymour. That reason alone was enough for him to remain nothing more than a bystander.


    Enjoy your worthless daily life for simply being so fantastic.


    He could hear distant gunshots ripping through the night. He didn¡¯t know how hard Murder Inc. strove to perform righteous murders, but stopping one dispute only meant that another would start soon after. Seymour could sense the tingle of an approaching storm fill the air.


    Before long, his nausea had gently faded away, so gently that he didn¡¯t even notice when it had gone. Seymour let out a breath of relief, and then he drunk the mud-like chocolate that had no more warmth to offer him.


    ¡°¡­¡­Sweet.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    Seymour¡¯s car, the Essex, had served him well for a fairly long time. Although it had loyally borne the abuse of his barbaric handling year after year, sometimes its age showed and it would malfunction.


    Thus, Seymour currently had his head shoved under the open bonnet of the Essex.


    ¡°Hmm, I wonder whether fixing it will help at this point. Maybe it¡¯d be better to buy a replacement?¡±


    Yesterday he had noticed that the engine would splutter when he tried to rev the engine.


    Because today was yet another day of no work for Seymour, he had started hunting for the cause not long after he woke up ©¤ in other words, in the evening after the sun went down. Right now he stood in the garage, oil smeared on his cheeks and toolbox in hand. He had removed the calibrator, disassembled it for cleaning and adjustment, and reassembled it before returning it to its place in the engine.


    And now he was suddenly troubled. He wanted to listen to the engine rev from beside the bonnet and not from the driver¡¯s seat to make sure that he had properly adjusted the calibrator, if possible. But, since Seymour had only one body, he naturally couldn¡¯t hold down the accelerator while standing by the bonnet.


    His amateur¡¯s skill was such a hindrance at times. Seymour pointlessly wandered back and forth between bonnet and driver¡¯s seat as he considered his conundrum.


    ¡°¡­¡¯at¡¯re you doing?¡±


    A sleepy voice interrupted both his thoughts and the pacing of those long legs he prided himself on. Lumi had apparently woken from her slumber, and descended from the loft.


    Seymour briefly explained the situation to her. After listening to his story, even as her head drooped ©¤ probably because she was only half-awake and still thinking of dreamland ©¤ her body melted into the floor. Seymour was fairly sure that she had entered the shadows. He¡¯d not yet finished processing her sudden departure before Lumi¡¯s body abruptly reappeared in front of Seymour.


    She looked towards the driver¡¯s seat with eyes that looked a lot droopier than usual, ¡°I¡¯d just need to step on the accelerator?¡±


    ¡°Y-Yeah. Thanks. Ah, just so you know, you start an engine by©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Seymour stopped speaking. Before he could even give her an explanation, the key, which he had left in the ignition, turned with a click, and the engine rumbled to life without a hitch.


    So she can drive a car, huh? Come to think of it, I¡¯ve never asked her whether or not she can actually drive. I just assumed that she can¡¯t because of how young she looks and because she¡¯s never mentioned it.


    The engine slowly revved up and down. Seymour went around to the bonnet and listened carefully, even as his hand automatically went to his chin as he pondered the unexpected revelation.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could drive a car¡­¡­wait, what?¡±


    When he lifted his gaze, Lumi¡¯s cheeks were just in the process of flushing a deep red. Apparently this was something deeply embarrassing to her, since Lumi chewed her lower lip and her entire body trembled lightly.


    ¡°Huh¡­¡­? Is something wrong¡­¡­?¡±


    A thin, forced-sounding voice replied to him, ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­No, not really. But, I can¡¯t drive a car or anything like that.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean, didn¡¯t you just start the engine a moment ago?¡±


    Given her practiced manner, Seymour would have thought that she was rather used to driving.


    Once he pointed it out, Lumi pressed her forehead against the wheel, shaking her head like a peevish kid.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong¡­¡­ It¡¯s not like I forgot to hide my ability to drive just because I was still sleepy and slipped up¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°So you forgot to hide it¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­forget. Now listen, I don¡¯t make such stupid blunders. Never.¡± Lumi objected fervently.


    Seymour let out a deep guffaw. Even as he did that, he thought about how Lumi had just clearly admitted that she had fabricated her own character.


    Maybe he should feel sad or shocked by that. But, just like how all things were worthless, the fact that she had deceived him meant nothing in the end. As such, Seymour couldn¡¯t muster any of the strong feelings he ought to have.


    ¡°Well, whatever. Could you change gears for me? I¡¯d like to test them out one by one.¡±


    ¡°Gear? What¡¯s that? No, actually, what¡¯s a car again? Wow, it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen something like this!¡±


    ¡°Too late! And isn¡¯t that way too exaggerated at this point!?¡±


    As he watched Lumi sloppily try to cover up her mistake, he thought hard about how to somehow get her to help him with the maintenance. In the end he managed to keep Lumi in the driver¡¯s seat until he was satisfied with his adjustments despite her incessant complaining.


    ¡°Maaan, you were a big help. Thanks. It¡¯s so great that you can drive.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Though I can¡¯t drive at all. Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah, yeah. Gotcha.¡±


    Lumi¡¯s entire body transformed into mist with a poof. The mist then floated up into the loft. Since Seymour didn¡¯t hear the sound of her human form landing, he was pretty sure she was moping in a corner of the ceiling.


    This might become a great material to tease her with later.


    Before heading to work, Seymour pulled out a cigarette, peering into the box and grimacing.


    ¡°Shit, that was my last one.¡±


    Which, of course, reminded him of the cigar-selling girl. Ignoring her advice, he had bought cigarettes and a bomb. Ever since then he hadn¡¯t shown his face at her place.


    Imagining the kind of impression she might have of Seymour right now, it was now Seymour¡¯s turn to release a long and dejected sigh.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 1 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C

 Volume 1 - CH 4.2

    ¡°Yahoo, Mister! Everything alright with you? Things are awesome on my end!¡±


    At the counter of the Hornsby Cigar store, Seymour encountered a brand new Fran, one that was in an unprecedentedly good mood.


    Unintentionally his real thoughts slipped out, ¡°Uwahh, how disgusting!¡±


    ¡°Meanie! And here I am, having gone out of my way to prepare wonderful cigarettes for you, Mister!¡± As she delivered her retort, Fran grabbed a pencil and repeatedly ran it across a paper.


    She didn¡¯t write in any recognizable alphabet but rather in symbols, like squares and triangles. Apparently, that¡¯s how she managed her information as an information broker. They looked like nothing more than the scribblings of a child to an outsider, though.


    ¡°Rather, umm¡­ah! Why?¡±


    ¡°Why what?¡±


    ¡°Bomb.¡± Seymour bluntly said.


    She had been implicitly against him buying a bomb. Despite that, Seymour had taken the memo for buying a bomb from her.


    ¡°Aaahh, that. So you were talking about that, huh?¡± Fran giggled, ¡°Mister, you didn¡¯t buy the bomb, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Just as he was about to ask her, ¡°How did you know?¡±, he realized something.


    Now that he thought about it, Seymour hadn¡¯t done anything to the can with the bomb, he had simply grabbed the neighbouring can and left. Since he had left it back there just like that, anyone who knew of the bomb¡¯s existence would immediately know that Seymour hadn¡¯t bought it.


    ¡°The bomb you didn¡¯t buy, you see, remained in the store. Moreover, no one knew it was still there. I mean, everyone believed that you had bought it.¡±


    ¡°I guess I should apologize for the trouble then.¡±


    ¡°No, no, not at all. You got it backwards. That bomb, you know, had a very interesting fate©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°Oh, I understand. I fully understand. And I don¡¯t want to know the details.¡±


    Seymour now understood why Fran was in such a good mood. He was sure that someone unexpected had bought the bomb, resulting in the bomb exploding in an unexpected place.


    The girl sitting in front of him loved such stories. She got a kick out of writing information on her memos that only she knew about. Being a compulsive note-taker of the worst kind in this world, her principles were founded on chaos and mayhem. Thus it was only natural that such a story put her in a great mood.


    Seymour wondered just how much of an uproar that bomb had caused within the city. Then again, at least he was quite certain now, that she had forgotten any bad feelings she had had over Seymour disregarding her warnings three times over.


    ¡°Aww, and here I was, ready to tell you all about what happened to it¡­¡±


    ¡°No, thanks. Seriously. I don¡¯t want to know anything about things like that.¡±


    ¡®Well, anyway, I¡¯m glad. It¡¯d be a major pain in the ass to find a new tobacconist.


    Seymour leaned against the counter, and ordered in his usual tone ¡± Please give me new cigarettes. The cheapest ones©¤©¤©¤©¤the ones right above that.¡±


    ¡°Sure. I expected you to show up sometime soon, so I prepared something special for today.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­I¡¯m not a fan of such things, you know?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not trying to take advantage of you. It just so happens that I¡¯m all out of several brands of cheap cigarettes right now. So I thought that I¡¯d really love to see you smoke some delicious cigarettes, Mister.¡±


    ¡°Hey! That¡¯s nothing but a price hike! It just means I¡¯ve lost my source of cheap cigarettes, doesn¡¯t it!?¡± While loudly bickering about this, Seymour smiled wryly in his mind.


    For a moment there, he had been worried about how things would turn out, but he was able to find common ground with Fran unexpectedly easily. It was somewhat scary to think about what had happened with the bomb, but Seymour was sure that it¡¯d be set off in a place completely unrelated to him.


    ¡°Oh yeah, while we¡¯re at it, can I place a request with you, Mister?¡± Fran added right before Seymour took his leave.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    The next day Seymour arrived at the southern side of the city in accordance with Fran¡¯s request. The city jutted out into the ocean on a small peninsula here. It was in this district where the rich people of this city lived.


    Seymour drove the newly repaired Essex. On his right side he could see the ocean across the width of a single block. The sun dazzled his eyes as it slowly sank into the western sea. The spot where the underground train emerged into the upper world was just around the corner. Even with the windows closed, the salty air filled the car. Seymour felt like it corroded even the bottom of his lungs.


    Gazing at estates big enough to play tennis in, Seymour drove until he eventually arrived at a cemetery. The cargo Fran had entrusted him with was a single bouquet.


    ¡°¡­¡­Now then.¡±


    He grabbed the flowers and got out of the car. Normally he wouldn¡¯t care, but for once Seymour was dressed for the part he would play today ¨C a plain, black sweater.


    Giving the gatekeeper a perfunctory greeting as he passed by, he went into the cemetery. A neatly maintained path, and a frequently trimmed lawn. It was such an orderly scene; it was as if any signs of death had been zealously kept away, despite the fact that this was a plot of land filled with corpses.


    He kept to the edge of the wide pathway out of a sort of discomfort. After asking other grave visitors for directions, and taking many a break to squat down and let his nausea settle, he somehow managed to find his destination.


    A single gravestone that stood neatly in a line of other identical gravestones. Though the gravestone itself wasn¡¯t particularly special, the inscription on it was rather special indeed.


    ¡ºIsaac Nigel¡»


    That was the name written there.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡± Seymour stayed silent for several seconds, merely glaring at the tomb. Then he shook his head. ¡°For the time being I have to at least finish my business here.¡±


    Seymour threw the bouquet in front of the quadratic, white stone. The funeral had been quite a long time ago, so there was obviously no other bouquets, but despite the recent rain, not a single blemish was visible on the stone¡¯s surface.


    Seymour was pretty sure that meant someone was regularly cleaning it. Before his mind could wander and begin thinking about who that might be, Seymour shook his head.


    ¡°¡ºTo the wonderful you who disturbed this city so wonderfully for me¡». So she says. Laughable, isn¡¯t it? For an information broker like her to do a thing like this¡­¡±


    Seymour doubted that Fran and Isaac Nigel had ever met in person. Both were rather notorious shut-ins.


    And yet, the act of offering a bouquet of flowers to a dead mafia member might point to the fact that said information breaker may still have a tiny amount of humanity left in her.


    This was all she had asked of Seymour. Merely to place flowers at his grave. And yet, even though he had no other business here, Seymour continued to stand in front of the grave, pulling out a box of cigarettes as he stood. It was one of the boxes he had bought from Fran yesterday.


    He opened the new pack of significantly higher quality cigarettes. He wasn¡¯t picky about his smokes, but the sudden jump in quality made him truly appreciate how good these smokes were.


    ¡°Hey, it looks like the disputes stopped when you died. How do you feel about that? As a member of the dead, who are supposed to be more at peace than the living.¡±


    Seymour remembered his sunglass-covered face and the scent of the tea he gave him.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t seem like that kind of person at all, though.¡±


    However, no matter how Seymour felt about him, reality was unchangeable. This city had obtained temporary peace through the death of Isaac Nigel. It was a worthless peace that was already on the verge of being lost again, but it was still a fact that you could see if you just flipped through a newspaper.


    Besides, the accuracy of Seymour¡¯s judgment was still a matter to be settled.


    After all, he had known Fran for quite a while now, and yet he had learned that she had a hobby of offering flowers to the dead just yesterday.


    ¡°¡­¡­You didn¡¯t seem like that kind of person at all, though.¡± He smiled bitterly while repeating his words.


    I¡¯m sure everyone is like that for someone. Another person¡¯s image is no more than a patchwork of their actions, and the implications that can be drawn from them ©¤ the will of the person forming that image is nothing but imagination. No justice or value can be found within, and I¡¯m certain that not a single living people can laugh at the mafia that created an illusion like the Murder Inc.


    Seymour remained there until he finished his cigarette. Then he tossed the remaining cigarettes and their box in front of the grave.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t thank you for the tea yet, did I?¡±


    He sighed, and walked off without looking back again.


    Now I have to go to Fran to claim my reward, and then I¡¯ve got a plethora of other jobs to finish today as well.


    Money was always a necessity, even in a worthless world.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    It was dawn by the time Seymour came back home. The first few rays of morning sun were already creeping steadily towards the ground at his feet.


    Because of this, he moved the shutter as carefully as possible, and quickly parked his Essex inside the garage. As he got out of the car and shook out a smoke, he scanned the interior of the garage.


    ¡°I¡¯m home~¡±


    No reply.


    Seymour didn¡¯t think much of it. Today he had returned fairly late, and Lumi lived a nocturnal life. She often waited for Seymour to come back, fighting off her own sleepiness, but it wasn¡¯t strange for her to be asleep either.


    He climbed the ladder thinking that he might as well sneak a peek at her cute sleeping face. Only, when he reached the top, he inadvertently dropped his cigarette.


    The loft held only an empty bed.


    ¡°¡­¡­!¡±


    Seymour had a terribly bad feeling about this.


    She hasn¡¯t come back. Lumi Spike hasn¡¯t come back.


    She had gone off somewhere on her own again today, probably to kill someone. And yet, even though dawn had already broken, she wasn¡¯t here. Seymour couldn¡¯t help but recall the first time they had met, and the image of her lying there with a hole in her head. Even though he now knew that the entire incident had been staged, the impression remained deeply rooted in Seymour¡¯s mind.


    She might be in the very same state right now.


    ¡ºSo, what about it?¡»


    A voice whispered somewhere in his head, but that voice was left behind in the loft as Seymour leapt down. Hoisting the shutter open, he sped out the garage.


    But then he suddenly came to a grinding halt, wondering where he was supposed to go. In the first place, Seymour didn¡¯t even know where Lumi had gone today, and even if he found someone, like Fran for example, to tell him where she was and what kind of predicament she was in, what would Seymour be able to do about it?


    As if he had just woken from a dream, Seymour was left standing stock still in front of his home all by himself.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Aahh.¡±


    Just as suddenly as he had realized that he didn¡¯t have any information, he suddenly felt a flash of insight. He let his eyes wander towards the river. He had no proof, yet Seymour was inexplicably sure that he¡¯d find her over there. A single place came to mind.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    Sliding down the riverbank, he entered the abandoned sewer pipe, spotting Lumi just inside.


    ¡°Yo.¡±


    Rays of morning sun shone diagonally into the pipe. Lumi was leaning against the wall, tracing the boundary between light and shadow with her fingertips. No, her fingertips had already passed the threshold.


    Maybe her fingers had been hit by the sunlight because she hadn¡¯t moved in a while, or maybe she had willingly placed her fingers where the sun would hit them. The tip of her left pinky, which was just past the boundary, was disappearing. As the fingertip crumbled, small traces of ash fell in its place.


    Seymour stood with the sun at his back, repeating his greeting once more, ¡°Yo.¡±


    Lumi lifted her eyes, but didn¡¯t say anything. All she did was to stare at Seymour with vacant eyes. He couldn¡¯t be sure whether she had noticed that her own finger was being turned into ash by the sunlight.


    Having said that, she didn¡¯t look like she was sick or injured either. Seymour suspected that she was likely only aware of wanting to be here. At least that was the impression she gave him. Moreover, if he left her alone like that, she might continue standing around even if her entire body was eventually engulfed in sunlight.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Sunbathing does seem to be good for the health, but are you sure you want to?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Is it okay for me to move closer, for starters?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­?¡±


    ¡°I mean, look, it¡¯s cold.¡±


    Seymour crowded against her, bumping his shoulder against hers. As he did, he pushed her slender body deeper inside the sewer, away from the sunlight.


    Lumi¡¯s eyes were pinned on Seymour, but in the end she didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Sure is unexpected for you to be all taciturn all of a sudden.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Brr, it¡¯s freezing out here. It¡¯d¡¯ve been nice to have a blanket.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour shook his head, and wondered why Lumi was standing here. It was obvious why she had come here before. She had been clearly crying, and those tears were an act. Performing a dramatic scene of a girl crying all by herself in the darkness when her loneliness overwhelmed her, she induced Seymour¡¯s pity ¨C she had come here so that she could stay in the garage as long as she needed.


    But, that couldn¡¯t be true today.


    Unlike back then, she wasn¡¯t deliberately sobbing loud enough for him to hear it, and it wasn¡¯t as though she had loudly opened the garage shutter. She had no reason to do so now to begin with.


    Nowadays she could stay in Seymour¡¯s garage even without putting on an act like that, and the prime reason for her even being at his place ©¤ Isaac Nigel ©¤ was already dead. By now there was very little reason for her to stay at his garage.


    And yet, here she was.


    Seymour racked his brains for a reason she was here. He racked his brains since he was leaning against the wall and didn¡¯t have anything else to do anyway.


    Suddenly a hand closed over his. A hand, which had lost most of its heat and parts of its pinky, grasped Seymour¡¯s hand.


    Lumi muttered in a voice as husky as the winter¡¯s gales outside, ¡°Cold.¡±


    That was all.


    That¡¯s why I¡¯m sure it must be like that. She¡¯s a girl and a monster, but that¡¯s not all.


    The story that Seymour¡¯s imagination had arbitrarily pieced together from the facts couldn¡¯t possibly be her whole story. Therefore the reason for her being here was beyond his comprehension. An insurmountable loneliness, and a gentle heat that bloomed between their connected hands.


    Sensing both of these, Seymour murmured, ¡°No kidding.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    Getting out of bed in the evening, he picked up the newspaper that had been thrown in front of his garage. Still half-asleep, Seymour¡¯s eyes were naturally drawn towards the river. The sewer pipe was over there. The place where Lumi had only muttered the word¡ºCold¡» yesterday.


    Lumi Spike. A girl and yet not just a girl. A hitman and yet not just a hitman. A vampire and yet not just a vampire.


    Seymour asked himself whether he wanted to know more about her, and could only smile bitterly. He felt as if there was a maelstrom in his stomach.


    No matter how he thought about it, there was no value in learning more about Lumi, and even if he did, there would be no value to the information that he learned. However, a question crossed his mind.


    Lumi Spike frequently mentioned her ¡ºMother¡». Knowledge imparted to her by her mother. A dearly missed life with her mother. A tiny dream of the beginning of love between her mother and father.


    ¡°¡­¡­Why the ocean though?¡±


    A story of a sandy beach and her parents who met there.


    Winning over Seymour with the word mother was an easily understood plan. Seymour could definitely see why she had used that word so frequently, given this.


    But, how did she decide on the details? What kind of feelings did she have when she talked about that dream?


    There were all kinds of possible dreams and memories she could have mentioned. No matter the contents, Seymour would likely have appreciated the details and shown her sympathy regardless.


    Seymour believed that there was some truth hidden in what she had chosen as a backstory exactly because she could have chosen whatever she wanted to¡­but that was probably also an illusion created by Seymour¡¯s pathetic sentimentality.


    His eyes naturally followed the river, and he imagined how they¡¯d eventually reach the sea. The grave of Isaac Nigel could be found over there. And also the seaside road that lead to that grave. Seymour¡¯s eyes gazed at the road.


    Evening sun. Road. Asphalt. And a bit more in addition.


    ¡°Haaah¡­¡­¡­¡­.¡±


    Seymour sighed very deeply. Then he shook his head and went back inside the garage.


    Given the silence within, Lumi was still sleeping. He gently started the car¡¯s engine so as to not wake her from her slumber. Stopping the car outside the garage, he lit up a smoke.


    Then he got back into the driver¡¯s seat and put on his gloves.


    ¡°Come to think of it, my selling point as a courier is my request completion rate, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    I¡¯ve got to finish the request I¡¯ve been putting off all this time.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s time to practice a bit for that.¡±


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C End of Part 2 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C

 Volume 1 - CH 4.3

    He decided to demonstrate the results of his training five days later.


    ¡°Lumi.¡± Seymour called, as he climbed the loft with the late evening sun still up. ¡°Lumi, wake up.¡±


    Wrapped up in her red blanket, Lumi was curled up like a baby, sound asleep. Light snores escaped her faintly open mouth.


    ¡°¡­Mmh, good¡­morning.¡± Lumi sat up with her head lolling and her eyes still closed shut.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go on a little trip, Lumi.¡±


    ¡°Sleepy¡­¡±


    ¡°You can sleep all you want, so long as you hop onto the back seat. Come on.¡±


    ¡°Besides, the sun is still¡­¡­just a bit longer¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour smiled at her as she slowly rubbed her eyes, ¡°Even so, let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Lumi suddenly stopped moving altogether. Then she lifted her face. Not even a trace of her previous drowsiness remained. All that was left was a terrifyingly calm and cold-hearted expression.


    Seymour supposed that this was only natural. Him trying to take her outside while the sun was still up was a clearer death threat than pointing a gun at her.


    ¡°What did you say just now?¡±


    Seymour shuddered. Lumi wasn¡¯t human; even if she looked like one, it didn¡¯t change the fact that she was made of completely different stuff. She merely sat on the bed, showing no signs of abnormality, but that truth emanated from her nonetheless.


    A terrifying metallic boom reverberated behind him. Turning just his head, Seymour saw that the garage wall had been gouged out. There had been no such destruction just moments ago.


    Lumi repeated the same line once more, ¡°What did you say just now?¡±


    He felt dread settle into the pit of his stomach, knowing that one wrong word would result in him becoming no more than a pile of meat chunks. If Seymour¡¯s senses were working normally, he¡¯d probably have burst into tears already, but thanks to his paralyzed mind and his chronic nausea over the last few days, he somehow managed to keep his wits.


    ¡°A stroll. Let¡¯s go out.¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Right now, let¡¯s go. In the car.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    He didn¡¯t know what Lumi was thinking, with her face cast down like that. And yet, when Seymour extended a hand, she firmly grasped it. Heading downstairs, he guided her to the backseat. Afterwards, he threw up the shutter with a loud screech.


    At this very moment, the topmost edge of the sun was just dipping below the horizon, dyeing the city in the crimson rays of the setting sun.


    Seymour got into the driver¡¯s seat. Turning the key, he got the engine going. Recalling the map of the city in his mind, his imagination was filled with traffic lights, cars and the sun shining down on them all.


    As he adjusted the rear-view mirror, he spotted Lumi hugging her knees and sulking.


    ¡°Are we really going to go?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    She sounded as if she¡¯d kill Seymour the instant he stepped on the accelerator, and like she wanted to be anywhere but here in the car. Despite not driving yet, Seymour pulled his gloves on with his teeth, one hand at a time while laughing.


    ¡°Hey Lumi, I¡¯ll make your dream come true.¡±


    He suddenly let the car take off by connecting the gears without the half clutch. The Essex jumped out on the street, leaving tire tracks on the garage floor. At this point Seymour remembered that he hadn¡¯t thought of how to close the shutter, but now it was too late.


    Sure enough, Lumi hadn¡¯t killed Seymour despite him driving outside while the sun was still up. Though it wouldn¡¯t have been at all strange if she had killed him for it. Thus, he was flooded with relief.


    However, the opposite didn¡¯t happen either. The shadows cast by the factory on the other side of the street stretched long into the street at this time of day, not allowing any sunlight to reach into the car.


    Ignoring traffic laws, he crossed through the middle lane, and took a left turn. It earned him a concert of car horns, but Seymour didn¡¯t pay any heed to those sounds.


    Lumi continued sitting serenely in the same position, even as the backseat was violently thrown around. It was pretty obvious that unnatural forces were at work here. She looked in Seymour¡¯s direction in confusion while running a hand through her disheveled hair.


    ¡°Dream, eh¡­?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯d also be fine to call it finishing your request, I guess.¡±


    Beach and holidays. The meeting of her father and mother. A walk along the ocean, backlit by the sunset. Seymour knew now that all these words had been lies. And yet Lumi had chosen those lies. She had chosen that setting even though she could have chosen anything at all.


    ¡°At this point it¡¯d be impossible to take you to a safe city, and it¡¯s not something you actually desire, right?¡±


    As if caught in a delirious dream, Seymour¡¯s mouth moved all by itself. He kept changing lanes, weaving his way through the gaps between the cars. Barreling towards a crossroad that was dominated by the mad red of the evening sun, not a shadow in sight.


    Even though she could see her demise speeding towards her, Lumi didn¡¯t say anything. However, Seymour noticed that her hands tightly grasped the hems of her pajamas.


    The instant they exited the shadow, Seymour quickly stepped on the brake and jerked the wheel. The Essex started to skid sideways, moving on just two wheels. Thanks to Seymour carefully adjusting the angle towards the sun, the car¡¯s ceiling just barely protected Lumi¡¯s body from getting hit by the sun¡¯s rays.


    As if to prove that everything, including even the timing of the traffic light, had been part of his plan, Seymour continued to tensely stare at the road with bloodshot eyes.


    ¡°But look, because I¡¯ve decided to perfectly carry out all details of my requests©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    There was a gap in the factory buildings that had been covering the right side, leaving no shadows on the road ahead. But, Seymour didn¡¯t attempt to head back the way they came, only faintly loosening his hold on the accelerator.


    A truck exited the factory grounds. Seymour quickly nestled close, hiding the Essex behind its big frame and breathed out a sigh.


    Running side-by-side, the Essex followed the truck so closely as if to vanish into its shadow. Unfortunately, even the truck would leave them sooner or later.


    However, Seymour¡¯s destination was already around the corner. The salty air tickling his nose had been gradually getting stronger for a while now. Even though Seymour knew that nothing would hide the car from the sun once he took the corner, he stepped down harder on the accelerator, only relying on the countdown relentlessly tick-tick-ticking onwards in his mind.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤So, what about it?¡±


    Leaving the protection of the truck, the Essex rushed out onto the street. At the same time, the subway train raced out of its tunnel onto the surface. The vibration and wind from this huge machine was transmitted to the right side of the car, causing the windshield to rattle. The train¡¯s shadow, stretching out long, hid the Essex.


    The only thing visible ahead was the road. That road along the ocean, which also led to the graveyard, extended endlessly into the horizon.


    The city was dyed in the red of the setting sun. The roaring of the waves and the clattering of the subway as it raced across its rails mingled within Seymour¡¯s ears. ¡®We¡¯re at the sea¡¯, he assessed. Even though he couldn¡¯t see it as it was blocked off by the subway, Seymour could strongly feel the presence of the ocean.


    He matched the speed of the subway, plunging onwards.


    The difference between day and night, land and sea was just as vast as the difference between human and vampire. Seymour suddenly experienced a pang of sentimentality. Clean, odorless emotions welled up from within his chest, and he suddenly felt a terrible urge to cry.


    However, since he was currently a machine that controlled the car from the driver¡¯s seat, Seymour didn¡¯t shed any tears. The two of them continued through the dream that the girl has described.


    He didn¡¯t look at the rear-view mirror. That was why he didn¡¯t know what Lumi was looking at or what expression she made right now. However, her small voice could still clearly be heard over the myriad of sounds.


    ¡°The world sure is bright.¡±


    Hearing her remark, Seymour lightly shook his head. He even had a passing thought that all he wanted was for just this time to continue forever and ever, but it was precisely the transience of the moment that made it so precious.


    Approaching the end of its surface section, the subway dove back into the world where no sun shone. At the same time, the last rays of the setting sun vanished, allowing the huge shadow of the Earth itself to cover the city.


    Seymour slowly dropped the speed, now that the subway was gone. Seymour felt like the temperature had dropped, and it wasn¡¯t just because the sun was gone. Now that his objective had been achieved, he lost almost all his zeal and instead felt a gaping emptiness yawn inside him. He had a hunch that it¡¯d be a bit too much of a stretch to call that feeling satisfaction.


    Seymour slowed the car almost down to a crawl.


    ¡°How was that? Did I manage to fulfill your request?¡±


    There was no reply. When he looked into the rear-view mirror, Lumi wasn¡¯t immediately visible. He could only see the edge of her silver hair right behind his seat. She appeared to be pressing her forehead to the back of his seat. Seymour could faintly feel her forehead through the thick material when she leaned her full weight on it. No temperature, just an existence passed on through stiffness alone.


    ¡°¡­¡­It¡¯s troublesome.¡± Lumi¡¯s voice was tear-choked. ¡°¡­¡­Doing something like this is troublesome!¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    He didn¡¯t ask why or how. Seymour merely kept driving in silence.


    He could hear the girl¡¯s sobbing. He wanted to gently stroke her shivering back, but that was impossible while he was driving.


    Listening to her voice, Seymour thought he wanted to cry just like her. Even though it¡¯d have been fine if all of it had been a lie.


    She was a monster, and if that meant that her every word was a lie and all her behavior was nothing but falsehoods, something like this would never have happened.


    Her mother¡¯s


    Her father¡¯s


    Her childhood¡¯s


    The vampire had hidden something in those identifiers that she had said to him The fact that she had grown up without any family, having been created by the world. She had been concealing the feelings nurtured by that upbringing.


    And Seymour realized what she had been hiding.


    She wasn¡¯t human, but that didn¡¯t mean that she didn¡¯t feel anything. She was a monster, but that didn¡¯t mean that she couldn¡¯t get hurt. He had noticed that discrepancy.


    ¡°¡­¡­Let¡¯s go home, okay?¡± Seymour turned the car in the direction of his home.


    The dark of the city night quietly took them into its embrace.


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°I¡¯m off.¡±


    By the time she finished saying the words, Lumi had already transformed her body into a cluster of bats, forming an overlapping concert of flapping and rustling. Seymour, who had been lying in the back seat of his Essex, lightly waved a hand.


    ¡°Take care.¡±


    The bats rose up all at once, turning into a single stream as they fluttered out of the car. Seymour reflexively closed his eyes as countless wings and leathery skin brushed past him, and when he opened them again, Lumi Spike was already gone. The night sky peeked into the garage through the open shutter.


    Lumi had started to inform him whenever she left by herself. Previously she had simply sneaked out in silence, but nowadays it had become the norm for her to give him a holler, albeit never mentioning where she was going. The same applied to Seymour¡¯s reply of ¡ºTake care¡».


    He peeled off the fur stuck to his face while smoking his cigarette.


    I wonder whether this is fine. Well, it probably is. Something like playing house with a monster which ate humans was the perfect funny party story, but it really isn¡¯t so bad. The day where I get killed by Lumi Spike might arrive someday, but that would merely add the perfect punchline to the perfect joke in this city.


    For the time being, I don¡¯t feel any more nausea. I don¡¯t know where the future will lead by spending my days like this, but then again, I never wondered about the future during my time as an ordinary courier either.


    For the time being, as long as things stay like this, I¡¯ll doubtlessly be reasonably happy.


    He tossed the stump of his cigarette out of the window, and pulled himself into the driver¡¯s seat from where he was. Entering the driver¡¯s seat upside-down, he somehow managed to turn himself around, grasping the wheel in proper posture.


    For the time being, I¡¯ve got to do today¡¯s work.


    For the time being, for the time being, for the time being¡­compromising on all kinds of things, postponing all kinds of things, and averting the eyes from all kinds of things. Handling things this way, humans can lead an unexpectedly good life and become happy. Should I consider that a salvation or a curse?


    While brooding about all this, Seymour started the engine, driving the car out of the garage, but came to a stop just outside. He felt like he had become terribly exhausted just from that, and thus required a break.


    It was at that very moment that his car was loudly kicked.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤?¡±


    Contrary to the noise, Seymour¡¯s surprise was non-existent. When he lifted his gaze, his mind still lethargic, he saw a man. Long, slicked-back hair. Starving eyes. Lips lifted as if to show off fangs. A wolfish man whose impact was on a completely different level. A member of Murder Inc.


    That man placed a foot on the Essex¡¯s bonnet. He pressed down on the bonnet with that foot, as if threatening to crush the car underfoot.


    Seeing his face, Seymour tilted his head in confusion.


    ¡°Do you have some business with me?¡±


    Even as he asked his question, Seymour already had a hunch. The hunch that such a half-assed daily life wouldn¡¯t be allowed in this city.


    ¡°Come, courier.¡± The man growled. ¡°We¡¯ll kill Lumi Spike.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 5.1

    ¡°Get going.¡±


    Spurred on by the man¡¯s snarl, Seymour started the Essex.


    The wolfish man took up the entirety of the back seat, stretching his legs out one over the other. Mud dripped down the treads of his shoes.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill Lumi Spike. And you will carry the luggage.¡± The man repeated once more.


    Before he even processed the meaning of those words, Seymour automatically asked his usual questions, ¡°How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?¡±


    The man let out a sigh, obviously annoyed.


    ¡°That woman is a vampire. Killing her requires preparation. Bring the necessary items to the necessary place.¡± And then the man cocked his head to the side, asking, ¡°You ARE going to accept this request, right?¡±


    Seymour only considered the question for a beat.


    There¡¯s no trace of a lie in his words. I¡¯ve got no doubt that he truly intends to kill her for some reason.


    He didn¡¯t know what the circumstances around this were. But, Seymour Road was a courier. And as such, he didn¡¯t ask about things unrelated to the job. As long as a request wasn¡¯t too ridiculous, he wouldn¡¯t turn it down, and once he accepted a job he¡¯d strive to complete it at all costs.


    His life with Lumi might have been happy and peaceful, but no value lay in that life. The reason that Seymour was able to keep living with that monster was simply because he didn¡¯t see any value in anything. If he ever faced reality, there was nothing but unendurable pain and burden waiting for him. It was precisely because she, his sister, his friends, the dead, and even he himself were worth exactly the same to him, that he¡¯d been able to live with her in that bright red room.


    He had to see it through, or it would all fall apart. He couldn¡¯t afford not to be consistent. As such, given the persona of Seymour, refusal was not an option.


    Seymour answered, ¡°Of course I will. But, would it be alright for me to ask just one question?¡± with the same mouth that he had told Lumi to take care with earlier.


    The man raised an eyebrow. Seymour took that as confirmation.


    ¡°Why come to me with this?¡±


    Seeing how there were plenty of other couriers besides Seymour that were available in this city, he couldn¡¯t understand why they¡¯d go out of their way to choose the one human who had been living with her.


    The man growled, ¡°That woman is a monster, through and through. If I had asked someone completely unrelated, they might get some ridiculous misguided notion of protecting an innocent girl into their heads, but someone like you won¡¯t do anything like that since you¡¯ve already spent time with her.¡±


    It was a very reasonable assertion. Seymour limited his response to a nod, and didn¡¯t ask or answer anything further.


    The man pulled a memo out of the inner pocket in his jacket in one smooth motion.


    ¡°Read this to learn about the details of the request.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    ¡°Then drive me to the building specified in it.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡±


    ? ©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ? ©¤©¤ ?


    ¡°A dispute¡¯s goin¡¯ on.¡±


    Several hours later, Seymour arrived at the harbor in accordance with the wolfish man¡¯s instructions. There he picked up a man supposedly called Rotton Lombard. His tall body was hidden in a cassock and a cigarette glowed between his lips. Military boots covered his feet, which he had stretched out without a care, and he played around incessantly with his bangs, which were cut diagonally across his forehead, as he spoke. He had introduced himself as a clergyman when they met, though he didn¡¯t give off that impression at all.


    ¡°¡­¡­ I¡¯m sticking to the motto of not questioning anything about my clients.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, how stuffy. If you don¡¯t relax a bit, you ain¡¯t goin¡¯ to survive this era, man. Besides,¡± Rotton revealed a cramped smile, ¡°Since you¡¯ve been told that we¡¯re gonna kill a woman, you¡¯d want to at least know the reason, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°The silent treatment, huh? Well, I¡¯m goin¡¯ to talk either way. People tend to make up their own justifications if they don¡¯t know the reasons. When that happens, it¡¯s easy for things like betrayal to happen. ¡­¡­Anyway, you know that we¡¯re basically an organization that mediates disputes, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Rotton¡¯s attitude, which was disgustingly cheerful for no apparent reason, grated terribly on Seymour¡¯s nerves. In contrast to his usual professionalism, Seymour unconsciously roughed up his driving, causing the car¡¯s interior to shake intensely. However, despite Seymour¡¯s body grandly lurching around as the one responsible for the shaking, Rotton didn¡¯t even tremble, as if he were glued to his seat.


    ¡°Meanin¡¯ the killin¡¯ we do gotta be managed. Whatever shape it might take, it¡¯s gotta be murder fer stoppin¡¯ disputes an¡¯ nothin¡¯ more¡¯n that. But that woman¡¯s gon¡¯ too far with the killin¡¯.¡±


    Seymour suddenly recalled that Lumi had gone on her nightly escapades more frequently recently. And that disputes had recently started to plague the city again.


    He didn¡¯t know the precise rate of assassinations the Murder Inc. performed. However, as far as he was aware, Lumi had gone out to kill quite frequently. Moreover, she had done so in a city where the disputes had actually died down.


    She had gone too far with the killing. She had killed more than were necessary to keep the order in the city. It had all developed into a situation where her existence had very likely become the cause of disputes. Thus, she had to be killed.


    ¡°That¡¯s a logical development which is easy to understand.¡±


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s how it is. From where I been watchin¡¯, s¡¯not really all that unexpected either though. Rather, I find it weird as fuck that we¡¯d been able to talk to that thing at all up until now.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I mean, monsters are just that, monsters.¡±


    Funnily, Rotton only seemed to perfectly fit his introduction as a clergyman when he was saying those words.


    ¡°Havin¡¯ said that, things¡¯ve become quite hairy when it comes to killin¡¯ that woman.¡±


    ¡°She definitely didn¡¯t seem killable.¡±


    ¡°Nothin¡¯ in this world is indestructible though. Not to mention that the weaknesses of vampires are well-known all over, right?¡±


    Seymour looked out the window. The moon wasn¡¯t visible on this particular night. Thin clouds hung in the sky, and a somewhat isolating silence dominated the night, like the entire city was locked away under a giant bell.


    The biggest weakness¡­the one that¡¯s easiest to understand ¨C namely, the sun ¨C currently isn¡¯t out. In that case¡­


    Waiting until Seymour turned his eyes on him to continue, Rotton laughed cheerfully, ¡°Then it¡¯s goin¡¯ to be my turn. Aahh, how wonderful. Devotin¡¯ yourself to your duty is always such bliss.¡± Seymour looked at how Rotton¡¯s hands were trembling at his chest. ¡°Well, nevertheless vampires are monsters you can¡¯t deal with by ordinary means. And yet we don¡¯ have much of a choice but to begin our plan before our trump card arrives. Just spottin¡¯ an opening fer us to seize her is goin¡¯ to be a major pain in the ass,¡± Rotton shook his head.


    While ignoring his words, Seymour turned his eyes forward.


    Quite some time had passed since Lumi left his home and he had met the wolfish man. Seymour didn¡¯t know how the wolfish man planned to kill Lumi, but he was sure that Lumi had already finished today¡¯s murder and might be discovering that the organization she belonged to had turned against her about now.


    And then he reflected on the fact that he was currently actively helping someone who was on their way to kill her. However, no matter how hard he looked within himself, he couldn¡¯t find a single reason to protect her. No matter how heartwarming the days with her might have been, she was undoubtedly a monster, and it was indisputable that both the world and Seymour would be better off when she was gone.


    The Essex wound its way through the city, eventually arriving in front of a multi-storey building. The building had apparently been abandoned in the middle of construction, and had nothing but its framework and bare walls. Originally it might have been a lot taller, but the walls were gone by the fourth floor, leaving behind nothing but exposed iron poles towering into the night sky like the bones of a rotting carcass.


    The door-less entrance yawned wide, and there were no people visible in the vicinity. Seymour drove his Essex inside and was faced with the strange sight of the unlit, battered floor being filled with a dozen men. A transparent liquid had been poured directly onto the concrete, in a circle with a diameter of three meters in the middle of the floor.


    In it lay the corpse of a single girl. Her limbs had turned into minced meat, and Seymour could only wonder how many bullets had been spent to do such a thing. It was hard to tell whether her body was faintly twitching because she was still alive or already dead.


    No, that was wrong. The one laying there wasn¡¯t some random girl, but Lumi Spike. And that meant that the body wasn¡¯t a corpse, even though it was in such a state.


    ¡°Perfectly on time. Excellent.¡± The wolfish man approached, calling out to Seymour.


    Seymour had stopped the car, and silently nodded at him.


    In that instant, a scream reverberated through the abandoned building. The source was one of the dozen men, who shared no unity in attire or age.


    The reason immediately became clear. Lumi¡¯s limbs were regenerating. Nerves twined themselves around the shapeless bones, blood vessels extended from the body, followed by flesh, before it was all covered by skin. Seymour was now certain that Lumi had held back quite a bit on the regeneration he had witnessed on their first meeting in order to garner his pity. Her regeneration was beyond rewinding a video, it was so fast that it was practically like it was respawning. Those new limbs contained immeasurable power, and her body accelerated at an inhuman speed as the floor cratered with the impact of her lunging at the nearest man.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤gh!¡±


    She was repelled.


    It was something he witnessed several times before. A numbness like an electric shock and a colorless power.


    The instant she was about to cross the circle demarcated by the liquid, Lumi¡¯s body was struck back into the center of the circle.


    ¡°Don¡¯t panic. She can¡¯t get out of there anyway.¡± The wolfish man pulled out his guns while admonishing the man.


    The pistols he held in each hand fired, hitting Lumi¡¯s body in two places at the same time. With each bullet he drilled a hole into her limbs, and he continued to empty his magazines into her as if he hadn¡¯t even noticed.


    And then he jerked his chin, urging the men to follow his example.


    The men noisily readied their guns, and after they took aim, they began to pour lead into the girl one after the other. Each time she got hit by a bullet, Lumi¡¯s body jolted with the force. Mysterious body fluids splashed into the vicinity, but turned into ash without mixing with the transparent liquid around her.


    ¡°Once she stops moving, cease firing for the time being. But, don¡¯t let her do as she likes. If she regenerates, shoot her. We still haven¡¯t worked out how strong the effects of the holy water are.¡±


    On closer inspection, Seymour could see that the center of the floor had collapsed, like it had been the site of an explosion. It seemed to tell the tale of just how many bullets they had fired so far. Lumi¡¯s flesh had been violated and torn apart, regenerating over and over, only to get turned into goo each time.


    And yet, Seymour felt no pity with her. After all, Lumi was the predator here.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..rh!!¡±


    Her eyeballs, which had been crushed and split open before recovering their shape again, had been glinting fiercely the entire time. Even under these circumstances, there was no doubt that the one with the upper hand here was that monster of a girl. Without letting even a single cry of pain escape her lips, she remained conscious, no matter how much they cornered her. The more bullets were fired into her, the deeper the fear burrowed itself into the hearts and minds of the men.


    Maybe I should feel some kind of emotion watching this scene unfold. But, I don¡¯t feel anything. Just as I don¡¯t feel the need to avenge Lumi, I don¡¯t care about reproaching the cruelty of Murder Inc. That, which has repeated itself in this city over and over again and which will continue to repeat over and over again, doesn¡¯t seem to mean anything to me.


    However, he reflexively muttered, ¡°This really doesn¡¯t look like a scene from the twentieth century.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, I don¡¯t wanna talk about things like holy water or barriers either. Take it out.¡±


    Giving the command while looking as though he hated it from the bottom of his heart, the wolfish man laughed lightly. Rotton got out of the car and greeted him. He took some kind of case out of his pocket and passed it to the wolfish man.


    It was a black case small enough to fit in the man¡¯s palm, but Seymour was sure that it was the trump card to kill Lumi.


    Rotton looked back at Seymour, and laughed, ¡°You sure are a cold-hearted chap. You wanted to always stay together with that cute girly over there, didn¡¯t you? Don¡¯t you feel anythin¡¯?¡±


    Once more, Seymour directed his gaze to the center of the floor. Having instantly regenerated her right arm, Lumi tried to brandish some rubble, but the wolfish man shot her arm before that could happen. He barked instructions at the other men, and the many guns pointed at Lumi lit up in response, turning her entire body into paste.


    ¡°¡­¡­No, not really.¡±


    It was unthinkable that Lumi hadn¡¯t noticed him there. It was impossible for her not to have seen him boldly drive his Essex in here with the final piece to kill her.


    However, even under these circumstances, Lumi didn¡¯t spare a single glance for Seymour. In other words, that was all Seymour meant to her. Just like Seymour had found no value in that daily life with her, she continued to be nothing more than a simple monster in the end. Without any begging or complaining, she had readily forgotten about Seymour¡¯s existence now that things had developed like this.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯, you say? Ahaha, I really wonder which of you is really the monster here.¡±


    Seymour was terribly sick and tired of Rotton¡¯s banter. He shook his head with a sigh.


    Either way, I don¡¯t need to overstay my welcome. I should hurry up and go back to get some sleep.


    Just as Seymour tried to back his Essex out of the building¡­


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡­several things happened simultaneously.


    ¡°Uh-oh.¡± Saying that, Rotton held up a gun.


    He had pulled out a pistol from his cassock, and aimed it at Seymour. Seymour peered down into the darkness of the barrel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot.¡±


    It was the wolfish man with the gun who defended him. Even though he was responding to Rotton pulling out his pistol, he was faster than Rotton. He grabbed the barrel of Rotton¡¯s pistol with his right hand, and thrust the point of his gun under Rotton¡¯s jaw with his left.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Seymour didn¡¯t react to either of these movements. The gun pointed at him strongly reverberated in his heart, but his head didn¡¯t work at all.


    ¡°If you wanna hide today¡¯s operation, we gotta kill him, I¡¯m pretty sure.¡±


    ¡°If you do that, I¡¯m going to toss you inside that barrier, scum.¡±


    Rotton laughed foolishly while the wolfish man made his anger clear without a single change of his expression. The man jerked his chin, telling Seymour to quickly get lost.


    Seymour backed his car out with his eyes locked onto Rotton¡¯s scorn through the windscreen. His expression made it clear that he was looking down on him for being at a loss when a gun was pointed at him. However, even that expression didn¡¯t register in Seymour¡¯s head.


    A muzzle.


    A black muzzle.


    This was what had seared itself into Seymour¡¯s mind. But, what had shocked Seymour wasn¡¯t the pistol Rotton still had aimed at him. He didn¡¯t care about that at all.


    What had shocked him was a muzzle from his memory.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡±


    He backed the car out of the building onto the street.


    Triggered by the image of a pistol aimed right at him, a memory surfaced in Seymour¡¯s mind. It was a memory from the day Seymour had met Lumi for the first time.


    On that day Seymour had been asked to drive her to a certain house. He actually managed to do that, only for the house to blow up on him. And then, a hit man ©¤ thinking back on it now, it had to be someone from Murder Inc. ©¤ showed up, killed the house owner, and©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤pointed his gun at Seymour.

 Volume 1 - CH 5.2

    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡±


    He drove the car backwards, continuing to meaninglessly reversing along the street, and thus gaining distance from the building.


    ¡ºPeople create stories that connect facts¡»


    Fran¡¯s remark crossed his mind. Right after, she had also added the aphorism, ¡ºThose facts mustn¡¯t necessarily adhere to reality¡».


    For the sake of winning Seymour over, Lumi had taken shelter at his home with the first attack as reason, and started to accompany him on his job due the second attack. In the past, Seymour had guessed it to have been like that. If you just connected the facts Seymour knew of back then, it¡¯d seem like a very plausible conclusion.


    But, nowadays Seymour knew more. For example, that a gun had been pointed at him on the day of the first attack. For example, that Lumi could actually drive a car.


    Recalling all that, and if I consider things based on my current knowledge, won¡¯t I be able to come up with another story about the chain of events?


    Right. In other words¡­


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤On that day I was supposed to be shot, wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    There was no need to split the attacks in two stages. All would have been fine if they had shot Seymour during the first attack. They could have injured him to an extent that wouldn¡¯t be fatal, and let Lumi save him while getting away with her as driver. If they had done it like that, another attack wouldn¡¯t have been needed as it would have created a reason for her to definitely get involved with Seymour¡¯s job.


    After all, it was easy to imagine that Seymour would be forced to rely on the girl close to him, if he couldn¡¯t drive his car because of an injury while having to carry out his job to make a living.


    However, in reality, things didn¡¯t play out like that. The one shot on that day hadn¡¯t been Seymour, but Lumi who had thrown herself in the line of fire. It also caused the assailant to become confused.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    There¡¯s no doubt about Lumi not regarding humans as people and her devouring humans without a shred of guilt. She¡¯s basically a monster. But, have I correctly interpreted the meaning of that? The fact of her being a monster, and the fact of her being brutal mustn¡¯t necessarily conform with each other.


    Many humans eat the meat of animals in order to keep surviving, but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that all those people are always cruel towards animals. It¡¯s not unusual for humans to sympathize with animals to the extent of not being able to eat animal meat, but at the same time, it¡¯s not unusual for humans to find pleasure in a feeling of supremacy by killing animals.


    Just like it¡¯s not said that a monster, which actually survives by eating humans as it possesses a nature requiring it to eat humans, gets its pleasure out of killing humans.


    ¡°¡­¡­Did Lumi cover for me?¡±


    No, it¡¯s probably quite arrogant that it¡¯s ¡ºme¡». ¡ºI¡» am nothing to her. But, she¡¯s deemed me valuable enough to protect. Allowing me to get injured, would have made it easier for her to get on my good side. But, if she accepted a certain extent of time and hardship, she could also extract my work information without getting me injured. That¡¯s why she intentionally diverted from their original plan, and achieved her objective without injuring the courier while taking twice as long.


    Even though Seymour should have been a human without any value whatsoever at that point in time.


    ¡°No, ain¡¯t no way I would get anything like that¡­¡±


    It¡¯s wrong on many accounts to apply the same scale on her as on other people and describe it as kindness or some such. But, at the same time it¡¯s likewise wrong to deny that it was an innate goodness that could be owed by a monster.


    He stopped the car. And bumped his forehead against the wheel.


    Lumi Spike must have killed hundreds, if not thousands, humans up until now. No matter how brutally she might have slaughtered them, it might be difficult to blame her for it. Rather, I¡¯ve got no doubt that the number of humans, who would praise her unconditionally, should be high.


    However, that monster was actually kind. She was extremely gentle for a monster.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­I have to admit that.¡±


    Even if everyone in this world denied this fact, only Seymour alone had been saved by her kindness.


    He took a breath. Lifted his face. Retrieved the gloves out of his pocket and put them on.


    Noticing his hands trembling, Seymour powerfully clenched them once, before opening them again.


    And then he muttered under his breath so that no one would hear it, ¡°Did you know? There exist statistics that half of the deadly accidents of rail cars take place during the departure.¡±


    In an instant, Seymour stepped down on the accelerator with all his might. The car roared as it suddenly picked up speed. Accelerating in no time, the lump of iron leaped into the building it had left moments ago.


    Over there, the men were about to perform the final rites for Lumi. The wolfish man was approaching her, who had been smashed into pieces by countless bullets. In his hands he held a pistol and a small, black case. Nearby, Rotton was laughing while the other men were anxiously watching with bated breaths.


    Seymour¡¯s Essex plunged into that situation.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Haah?¡± The wolfish man cried out with his eyes flying wide open.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤Eh?¡± Rotton flapped his mouth open.


    Several of the nearby men were knocked over all at once. No human was able to oppose a mass of metal weighing over a hundred kilogram which crashed against them at high speed.


    ¡°Giihguehh!¡±


    Seymour didn¡¯t know whether the sound of a crushed frog came from someone¡¯s yelp or someone¡¯s body. Because there was an impact which got even passed on to Seymour inside the car, he immediately stopped the car.


    He tightly pressed his eyelids closed, and breathed out. He should have adjusted the speed of his car so that no one would die from being hit by it, but there existed no guarantee that it wouldn¡¯t happen anyway. The fact that he might have killed or injured someone was about to bog down his thinking.


    In order to avoid that, he briefly muttered while glossing over that his voice was somewhat crankier than usual, ¡°Probably at some place, right?¡±


    Once he opened the driver¡¯s door and got out, the wolfish man and Rotton had stopped moving on the ground. Several men were groaning nearby.


    Seymour averted his eyes. He didn¡¯t have any time to stop. He¡¯d accept answering his feelings of guilt later on. By letting his mouth freely yap as it pleased, he allowed calmness to fill his heart.


    ¡°Sorry for disturbing.¡±


    Since it¡¯d have been preposterous to think that he¡¯d be able to incapacitate all of them with one charge, Seymour loosely waved a hand at the men of Murder Inc. while they were still flabbergasted by the sudden turn of events. Then he walked up to Rotton and the wolfish man, and tore the black case out of the man¡¯s hand. Opening it, he spotted three shining bullets which appeared to be made out of silver.


    I see, so they wanted to kill her with those, huh? Makes sense.


    Following that, he climbed back into his car.


    ¡°Thanks for having put up with me. Please excuse me now.¡±


    It was at that moment that the men regained their wits.


    ¡°K-Kill him!¡±


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    Seymour ducked his head in response to the manifold, overlapping, angry roars. While he forced his body around within the narrow car, several of the bullets entering the car grazed him.


    In an ideal world, he¡¯d have been able to free Lumi from here, but it didn¡¯t look likely that he¡¯d be able to pull that off.


    ¡°See you later,¡± he lip-synced to the minced meat on the ground, which used to be a girl, but he didn¡¯t know whether it got through to her or not.


    At any rate, he had to toss away these bullets somewhere and make them completely give up on the idea of killing Lumi. Seymour sped out of the building with his Essex. Immediately following, he could hear three engines following on his tail.


    ¡°Figures that they¡¯d come after me.¡±


    Looking through his rear mirror, he spotted three cars. In one of them ©¤ a red Essex ©¤ sat a guy with red glasses whom Seymour recalled having seen before.


    ¡°Ah, give me a fucking break, will you!?¡±


    Seymour raced his car through the dark streets. As long as he got rid of the black case somewhere, that part would be fine, but with the cars sticking to him right behind, it was hard to say that he¡¯d be able to toss the case away reliably and safely. It¡¯d make little sense to toss it away randomly, just for it to get picked up later again.


    Gunshots.


    Apparently some of the guys in the rear cars had guns with them. Seymour didn¡¯t expect them to hit him so easily, but if they shot the tires, it¡¯d become fatal for his escape. He quickly dove into a complicated labyrinth of alleys.


    On the bright side, those alleys were nicely frozen over. The snow, which had melted after being trampled down by people over the day, had apparently hardened again. Hearing the crunching coming from underneath his tires, Seymour laughed.


    ¡°Heeere we go!¡±


    The instant he exited his current alley, he took a sharp turn. Even while getting the jitters over the sensation of the rear wheels sliding across the road¡¯s surface, he somehow managed to control the car frame.


    The red Essex, which was at the head of his pursuers, naturally took the turn just as skillfully. The car following behind somehow managed to take a turn as well, albeit having to draw a wide curve. But, the third car slipped splendidly.


    Seymour ducked his head due to the crashing boom reaching him from behind.


    ¡°One down!¡±


    Then he felt a hard impact from behind. His pursuer was pushing up.


    ¡°Today I¡¯ve got no additional weight with me, you know?¡±


    Once more.


    In the meantime, the red Essex had raised its speed in order to pull up next to Seymour¡¯s car on the right side. It¡¯d be dangerous to allow the two Essex to ran parallel to each other as the glasses guy could have a gun on him. And even without that, Seymour would have little room to maneuver if got surrounded by cars on either side.


    ¡°Hmm, what should I do?¡±


    Seymour¡¯s eyes caught onto the T-junction ahead and the railway track running beyond that. At the same time a faint vibration reached his ears. He opened the window while keeping one hand on the wheel. While turning left at the end of the street, he thrust his hand out of the window.


    That hand threw the black case. It drew a parabola, flying over a high fence and landing on top of the railway tracks.


    The one reacting to that was the car behind him which had been pushing up against his Essex. While destroying the fence next to the railway, they drove their car on the tracks, chasing after the black case. Then they suddenly stopped, and a man, who got out of the car, picked up the case.


    Now then, I wonder whether he¡¯s going to have the time to figure out that the case is empty.


    Seymour couldn¡¯t make a final call on that, but the man immediately realized what Seymour had perceived earlier. In short, a subway, which was running late at night, rapidly approaching his current position.


    Out of the corner of his eyes, Seymour perceived how the man escaped in a hurry, leaving his car behind, just to have it sent flying by the subway in the next moment. Seymour limited it to mumbling a ¡ºSorry¡» under his breath as a loud explosion roared behind him.


    ¡°Two down!¡±


    And thus only the red Essex driving next to him was left.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­You¡¯re the last one, huh?¡± Seymour muttered.


    Seymour and the glasses guy. Both simultaneously let their eyes wander across the road. The subway¡¯s surface segment separated from this street, vanishing in-between multi-story buildings. The two-lane road got immediately sandwiched by towering buildings on either side. The road itself was mostly one straight line, abruptly ending several blocks ahead ©¤ at the boundary of the city district ©¤ as the road got cut off by a huge river.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Both pondered at the same time. And both reached the same conclusion at the same moment. Seymour turned the wheel to the right. The glasses guy turned his wheel to the left. Resulting in both cars bumping against each other at full force.


    It was an unavoidable situation. For the glasses guy it was indispensable to stop Seymour¡¯s care here by forcing it off the road, seeing how the number of pursuers had dropped to his car alone. As for Seymour: he wanted to quickly get rid of his pursuers, but there was still some way to go until the next crossing, and thus he wouldn¡¯t be able to cope with his opponent unless he hit the other car back.


    As a result, both cars vied for dominating the road¡¯s middle. The two sideview mirrors stuck in-between this contest got crushed and fell off, vanishing out of sight in no time.


    ¡°¡­¡­Shit!¡±


    And even despite doing all that, a solution to the situation was far off for Seymour. After all, a dead end awaited further down the road, and if went beyond that, he¡¯d be headed straight for the river.


    I wonder just how the chance for survival might be when dropping off the wharf into the river while stuck in a car during this season. But I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s so low that I wouldn¡¯t ever feel on betting on it. But, having said that, I see no means to avoid it.


    Neither Essex can leave the middle of the road while we¡¯re duking it out with all the power our cars can muster. But, even assuming that either side were to relax on the attacks, the other side would immediately run their car into the other¡¯s, most likely causing their opponent¡¯s car to crash. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t ease up on this.


    He exploited his hands to the limits while putting as much strength as possible into the foot stomping down on the accelerator. His opponent invested similarly frantic efforts, continuously bumping his car into Seymour¡¯s Essex to hinder him from escaping.


    At this rate, both Essex would fall into the river. With death awaiting both drivers with a probability of almost 100%.


    But, if either eased up on the attacks, their car would turn into a wrack. With defeat awaiting the one to have given up first.


    Both were fully aware that neither side could back down from this.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Hah.¡± A short laugh escaped Seymour¡¯s lips. Though it was unclear to him what kind of emotions it carried.


    He kept his car going. Distance until the end: 300 meters.


    ¡°Haha!¡±


    Next Seymour realized that the voice filling his car¡¯s interior was his own laughter. Distance until the end: 200 meters.


    ¡°Ahaha, hahahahahaha!¡±


    Death was approaching at the same speed as the car was running. His hands had become slippery, trembling as they clasped the wheel. Distance until the end: 100 meters.


    ¡°Ahahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha!¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help being happy. Even though he was aware that he was about to die, he didn¡¯t have any intention to fear death whatsoever. Seymour felt like he could drive on like this for eternity. Distance until the end: 50 meters.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤!¡±


    Seymour shouted to something in his head, which felt murky due to lack of oxygen. His eyes didn¡¯t register the red Essex anymore, but glared at something in front of him that didn¡¯t exist. Distance until the end©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­gh!?¡±


    When the strain on his hands suddenly disappeared, Seymour piously believed that his car had fallen into the river with him having died. But, contrary to his own consciousness, his hands and feet were properly operating the car, delivering a heavy, violent blow against the car running next to him.


    The sound of glass shattering could be heard.


    The glasses guy had eased his hold on the wheel. And that was the reason for him crashing.


    Seymour realizing all of this was owed to his limbs having stepped on the brake and thrown the wheel around, resulting in the Essex stopping with the car frame halfway sticking out over the wharf.


    The red Essex had run into a building located several meters further away from the river than Seymour. The car itself was in a terrible state, looking as if it had been squashed flat between the palms of a giant, but no fire or smoke could be seen rising from it, allowing Seymour to guess that he didn¡¯t need to worry about it exploding.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡±


    Seymour remained still for a few moments. There was no indication of someone leaving the red Essex. He thought that the glasses guy had likely died in there, but a part of him also believed that he might still be alive.


    Unsteadily leaving his car after a while, he faced the river. He had gotten rid of the black case, but the content ©¤ the three silver bullets ©¤ were scattered on the passenger¡¯s seat. He picked them up and tossed them into the river. Three faint flashes as the starlight got reflected by the bullets got silently swallowed by the blackness of the river.


    ¡°I made it out alive, huh?¡±


    Those were the words pressing out of his mouth. But, without a doubt, those were also Seymour¡¯s true feelings.


    He was well aware of the reason why he firmly gripping the wheel to the very end, even with death approaching in the shape of the river in front of his eyes.


    While comprehending that the glasses guy wouldn¡¯t hear it anyway, he muttered, ¡°My mind was fully preoccupied with how that girl must have felt.¡±


    Even as undying vampire, she might have faintly experienced that kind of feeling back when she threw herself towards the pitch-black gun muzzle. Maybe she might have felt a chill run down her spine despite her emotions being different of humans.


    In the end, I still don¡¯t get how she ticks, but at least we¡¯re even with this.


    His courage ©¤ limited to this one manifestation ©¤ had already run out of stock, and his fear, which finally caught up with him at full force, made him feel freezing cold. Seymour swiftly stuffed a cigarette into his mouth as if to cling onto its tiny flame.


    ? ©¤©¤¡º?¡»©¤©¤ ?


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª- End of Part 2 ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-

 Volume 1 - CH 5.3

    He drove back into the unfinished multi-story building, noting absently that the Essex had started to make an odd noise. The moment he had arrived in front of the building, he had been struck by the uncanny silence that now surrounded it ¨C a massive difference from how it had been before.


    The men who had been still standing when he left earlier now lay sprawled on the ground. The barrier drawn onto the floor was gone without a trace. Only the signs of destruction remained¡­no, there were more now. Seymour suspected that the remaining men had tried and failed to stop Lumi regenerating. Something had struck the ground with great force, resulting in cracks that seemed to have rippled out from the point of impact like a spiderweb. The barrier that had been drawn in holy water had probably collapsed because of them.


    And in the middle of it all stood Lumi Spike. Her clothes were a mess after having been shredded to pieces by bullets, but there was not a single injury visible on her body. Her beauty, all the more striking in contrast with the destruction that surrounded her, seared itself into Seymour¡¯s mind, painting her as the personification of horror itself.


    ¡°¡­¡­.Everything okay?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not dead.¡±


    Even though he was asking after her, she answered for the men around her instead. She hadn¡¯t killed them. She hadn¡¯t felt threatened enough to do so. Seymour briefly wondered what it would take to push her to that point, but quickly put it out of his mind. For now the threat of her being attacked again had passed, and that was all that mattered to Seymour.


    ¡°This and that happened, and apparently the Murder Inc wanted to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I thoroughly experienced that with my own body.¡±


    ¡°I got rid of the tool that¡¯s apparently necessary to kill you just now.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Lumi agreed, not even a fraction of concern present in her tone.


    He was a little shocked at her indifference, but upon realizing what he was feeling, Seymour smiled bitterly, asking himself if he had really believed he¡¯d be able to receive some words of gratitude or even a kiss from her this late in the game.


    He thrust his hands into his pockets, and shook his head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how things work for you people, but wouldn¡¯t it be better to leave this city?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­Leave?¡±


    ¡°Yep, leave. Now that you¡¯re being targeted by the Murder Inc., it¡¯ll be impossible to live in peace in this city, won¡¯t it? Wouldn¡¯t it be smarter to run away for now and start over somewhere new?¡± Seymour asked as he put a cigarette in his mouth.


    Probably because he¡¯d done so many things he wasn¡¯t used to doing, a terrible fatigue settled over him. Noticing that his fingers were trembling, he gave up on lighting the cigarette for the moment. As a man he didn¡¯t want to show her the uncool appearance of him trying and failing to light a match because of his shaking hands.


    Thus he simply lifted his gaze. Lumi¡¯s eyes were clouded with what was clearly a mix of feelings as she stared at him. This startled Seymour somewhat. He had assumed that he was nothing more than a mob character for her, and wouldn¡¯t have thought it weird even if she had disappeared in the short moment he took his eyes off her.


    Lumi¡¯s hand tugged at what remained of her sleeves for a moment. That movement also added to his vague sense of discomfort.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, are you©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Her voice was shaking terribly. ¡°Mr. Seymour, are you going to come with me?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°With me©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    Seymour tilted his head in confusion.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The question was extremely simple and because of that, it just slipped out of his mouth.


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m a courier for this city. Sure, it looks like the pandemonium this time will probably have some consequences, but well, I¡¯ll manage one way or the other. So I¡¯ll remain here.¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m sure someone like you can survive anywhere by herself. Just like you¡¯ve always done up until now.¡± Seymour mentioned it as a parting gift.


    A monster that had always been alone would be able to survive alone in the future just as well. He was certain that this fact would become a comfort to her when she left this city. Leaving aside the question of whether she actually wanted to be comforted in the first place.


    However, Lumi ended up casting her eyes down in response.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­y.¡±


    ¡°Did you say something?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­w-why?¡±


    It was at that moment that Seymour, whose mind had been clouded by fatigue and the exhilaration of the chase, registered Lumi¡¯s abnormal state. Though, it was far too late for anything.


    Why was Lumi here? Did she wait for Seymour? This fact, that he had not even realized that he should have questioned, let alone understand the full implications behind, hit him with all the force of a truck.


    ¡°Why, why, why, why?¡±


    Lumi vanished into thin air.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤WHY!?¡±


    Immediately following that, a force slammed into Seymour. A fierce heat welled up within him, and Seymour broke into a violent coughing fit.


    Lumi was right in front of his eyes. Even though he should be able to see all of her, her right hand was missing. No, that was wrong, it was within his visual field.


    Her right arm was stretched out towards Seymour¡¯s chest, however the hand at the end of it wasn¡¯t visible. After all, it was deeply embedded in Seymour¡¯s chest. Lumi¡¯s right hand had pierced through Seymour¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Eh?¡± He muttered, coughing.


    Large amounts of blood spilled out of his mouth, and his body swayed giddily.


    But, Seymour didn¡¯t collapse. Lumi had stuck her right hand into his body, and was holding something within him, supporting his body¡¯s weight as a result.


    The thing she held in a vice-grip pulsed. It was his heart.


    ¡°Why¡­are you saying something like that?¡±


    Her anguished face was a breath away from his. Tears had welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.


    It¡¯s me who wants to cry here.


    The white-hot pain of her holding his heart with her bare hand consumed his mind. He coughed and more blood came pouring out of his mouth, splashing all over Lumi. Her hair, face, and body became bright red.


    Seeing the blood on Lumi brought up a memory. At the same time, Seymour finally realized the true nature of the uncomfortable feeling plaguing him.


    ¡°Why¡­are you¡­saying something like that?¡±


    Pain colored Lumi¡¯s eyes. Her body was not injured in any way, and as such, she shouldn¡¯t be feeling any pain. And yet, she was on the verge of crying, her face cramped up as if she were deeply hurt. There was something deep down in her eyes.


    Empathy.


    Something Lumi Spike the monster wasn¡¯t supposed to possess. Even though she was a monster precisely because of the fact that she didn¡¯t think of humans as people, she was definitely grieving over Seymour¡¯s current ailing state right now.


    Seymour¡¯s blood ran down her face into her eyes. It mixed with the tears in her eyes, until she couldn¡¯t hold them back anymore and they ran down her face in fat rivulets.


    ¡°D-Despite d-doing this t-to me!¡±


    A pained scream tore its way out of her throat.


    Despite the all-consuming pain, his brain recalled a single remark. A throwaway aphorism from the tobacconist girl.


    ¡ºPeople create stories by connecting facts¡»


    Have I ever considered what kind of facts I allow others to see?


    Lumi¡¯s crimson figure flashed through his mind. A girl who had been created by the world and had made a living as a hitman without any family to support her, unable to and never relying on anyone. Any relationships she would have built would doubtlessly require her to hide the truth of her nature, and the Murder Inc., the only ones who knew she was a vampire, was an organization capable of discarding her at a moment¡¯s notice.


    She was a being that existed all by herself in this world. And yet, they had splashed the paint that day. The red paint, which exploded in the garage instead of a bomb, ended up becoming a connection between Seymour and Lumi. 2 Dollars and 42 cents had poured down on two souls who were all alone in the world.


    Seymour had accepted her being a vampire. He had built their relationship on this acceptance. On top of knowing that Lumi Spike was a vampire, he chose to spend time with her, and also her vampiric nature.


    For Seymour, that was purely out of desperation, recklessness, and a fairly suicidal mindset, but that wasn¡¯t what Lumi saw. All she knew was that Seymour Road had extended a helping hand to a monster that couldn¡¯t build any real relationships. He had ended up assuring Lumi Spike the monster that she had a right to live.


    Those were the facts she knew.


    And so she had created her own story using that as its starting point.


    Seymour recalled her repeated murders that slowly drifted further and further away from the goals of Murder Inc. Now, with everything he knew, he could also think of a reason for that. He suspected that his death had been part of the Murder Inc.¡¯s greater plan. That the only reason he had been allowed to live on even after Isaac Nigel¡¯s death had been because the information he still possessed was beneficial for the organization.


    And thus Lumi had tried to do something about it. The objective of her repeated murders was to demonstrate his continued value for the organization. The more people she killed using Seymour¡¯s information, the more valuable he¡¯d become for the organization. Murder Inc. would be less and less inclined to kill Seymour Road.


    Seymour assumed that had been her train of thought. It was a childish, simple weighing of losses and gains. And at its end rested her elimination by the organization.


    As if she had wanted more of the warmth that had passed between them through their joined hands in the past, she¡¯d seized his heart.


    ¡°E-Even though I-I could have remained a monster, if¡­if you hadn¡¯t been there! Even though you taught me about humans!¡±


    She had formed a relationship with a human. She had recognized that humans were not all that different from her. Seymour was sure that there was no way she could return to being no more than a monster after the day of the crimson shower.


    In that case. The number of humans she¡¯s killed so far must be in the hundreds, or even thousands. It¡¯s got to be such a high number that keeping count of them wouldn¡¯t even mean anything anymore. But, the instant she learned about humans and was thus released from her isolation, she was confronted with a sin she couldn¡¯t atone for. Understanding that the countless beings she had previously crushed underfoot without a care had the same value as the stupid man in front of her was an unresolvable tragedy for Lumi Spike and a hilarious comedy for any outsider.


    ¡°What to do? I¡­having been in such a situation, even without knowing anything¡­what should I do?¡±


    Maybe because his heart, which was still in her powerful grip, was approaching its limit, or maybe because he¡¯d already lost too much blood; Seymour¡¯s thinking gradually became duller, and his consciousness began to fade.


    Despite being on the verge of killing him, Lumi clung to Seymour who was on the verge of death. It was the manifestation of Lumi¡¯s conflicting desire to save what she was killing with her own hands. It was a contradiction that was likely an integral part of Lumi Spike now that she¡¯d been broken by Seymour.


    ¡°Killing is wrong¡­not killing is also wrong¡­I didn¡¯t know a way out anymore¡­so I thought it¡¯d be fine for me to get killed, and yet¡­!¡±


    She had fallen straight into hell at the moment she understood humanity. Seymour understood that the weight of the sins she had unknowingly accumulated must have been so devastating that she even chose death over it. And yet, despite all that, she had had to kill more people. For the sake of rescuing Seymour Road from the clutches of Murder Inc., and at the same time, for the sake of being killed by Murder Inc. at the end of that road.


    Seymour wondered how heavy her heart had become with each new murder, now that she was aware of the tremendous weight of her sins. And there was no doubt that it had been Seymour who had tossed her into that hell.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour, please¡­kill me. Please¡­allow me to kill you. Please, tell me what I should do. I¡­I am©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¡± Seymour attempted to say something.


    But, he couldn¡¯t think of any words that would be appropriate here. And even if he tried to put his thoughts into words, he didn¡¯t have the strength to voice them.


    Blood trickled seemingly endless from the holes in his chest and beneath his nose. His body had already become unbearably cold. He didn¡¯t think he had the energy to utter a single word before he lost consciousness. His heart had run out of strength.


    Lumi propped up Seymour¡¯s body just as his knees began to buckle.


    ¡°Mr. Seymour!¡±


    Knowing that this kindness, which gave birth to the worry that caused her to care about him above all else, was the main reason she had been thrust into this hell, Seymour could only laugh helplessly.


    What¡¯s Lumi going to do if I die? Maybe she will simply stand here until the sun reaches this spot and follow me into death. Or maybe she¡¯s going to pretend to be a monster once more, continuing to kill until she is killed in return. I can¡¯t tell which it¡¯ll be, but neither changes the fact that there is only hell awaiting her no matter which she chooses. What I truly regret is that not only is she stuck on a path that leads only to hell, I am on an equally inescapable path away from her after putting her there.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤Yeah.¡±


    Even though he was in such a situation, Seymour believed her to be beautiful. Despite her crying, despite the blood coating her, and despite her being on the verge of breaking apart, none of it affected the impression he had formed of her from the first moment they had met: that she was a devastatingly beautiful girl.


    What can I do to make her laugh?


    The fact that this was the last thing he could think of caused him to laugh at himself instead.


    I guess a man, who lives his life frivolously, will ultimately die frivolously. What should I do©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤His heart thumped powerfully once.


    Suddenly, an idea struck him. His heart wasn¡¯t beating because of some wonderful, mysterious power, but simply because his idea had him questioning his own mind, trying to come up with a reason for why now of all times and the sheer ridiculousness of it all. And to a lesser extent out of embarrassment.


    His heart thumped powerfully once more.


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­Hey, Lumi.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Seymour!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s abstain¡­¡­¡­from both¡­¡­¡­¡±


    It was probably a good thing he was on the verge of death. Otherwise, his face would be bright red right now, he was certain. He was truly glad that all the blood that could have risen to his face had already spilled out through all his openings.


    I have to somehow make sure that this kind-hearted, and above all else, beautiful monster girl, who¡¯s bound to fall into hell and whom I broke, manages to survive one way or another. Even if she has committed atrocious crimes, she mustn¡¯t die just because she has realized the weight of her sins. I must tell her that the path of her life was not just composed of sins, but also of other things.


    That was Seymour¡¯s responsibility, duty, and joy, or in other words, his fate. Seymour desperately spun his next words, not to die or kill, but solely for the sake of saving her.


    ¡°Lumi, let¡¯s live together.¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡®It sounded almost like a confession.


    He thought, and immediately dismissed the thought from his mind.


    ¡°I¡­love you.¡±


    Those were simple, plain words of confessing one¡¯s love.


    ¡°B-But, I have to kill in order to stay alive¡­¡±


    ¡°Killing is out. You¡¯re not allowed to kill people.¡±


    He could see fear beginning to take over in the depths of her eyes.


    In order to truly commit to not killing people, you have to first think of the countless lives you¡¯ve already extinguished.


    Seymour saw that she understood and feared the gravity of that.


    ¡°Fi-¡­gures. Facing it, you see, will be absurdly tiresome. To the point that you won¡¯t want to live on.¡±


    ¡°Then©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤But.¡±


    He wondered if he was still capable of smiling.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be tiresome, but you know, you¡¯ll live on by facing your sins and bearing that burden, without dying and without killing. If you do, if you do all that©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    He wondered if he had enough energy to smile enough for her to accept his words of love.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤I can stay with you. As long as you do that, I¡¯ll be at your side.¡±


    Seymour coughed violently after finishing his speech. He frantically tried to swallow down the blood that was trying to spill out of his mouth, but he had a feeling that it would just leave through his chest wound instead.


    ¡°As long as you stay with me, you¡¯ll experience nice things.¡± He desperately fumbled for the right words within his muddy mind.


    Words that would make Lumi Spike consider living on. Words that would convince her that living with Seymour Road would be a worthwhile endeavor for her.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m quite the looker, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°And, I have a place to call home.¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a good conversationalist, too.¡±


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually capable of doing house chores, too.¡±


    The last line caused Lumi to laugh lightly. It sounded more like a convulsive sob as tears continued to stream out of her eyes without any sign of stopping, but Seymour was sure that she had laughed just now.


    Lumi pouted, her face still a teary mess.


    ¡°M-Mr. Seymour, you¡¯re just saying that, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ve probably never even tried¡­¡­!?¡±


    ¡°You sure? Then I¡¯ll show you my awesome cleaning skills next time.¡±


    Another coughing fit. However, he couldn¡¯t tell if he¡¯d coughed in order to hide his embarrassment or if it was his body rebelling against him.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve also got my own car.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m skilled at driving.¡±


    ¡°Well actually, it¡¯s a rather rough way of driving¡­¡­¡­!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got many friends, too.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all girls, though¡­¡­¡­!¡±


    Also, he tried to think of more of his merits. Trying to prove his own value.


    It¡¯s not enough. I need something more striking to give her a reason to keep on living, to let me be at her side, and for Lumi Spike to believe that living on is the best option,¡¯ he felt. But I think that¡¯s it, I¡¯m hollow. There¡¯s no more to me that couldn¡¯t be scooped out in two handfuls.


    Seymour floundered, examining all kinds of aspects of himself. Finally he added just one last thing from within himself, from under the frankly ridiculous amount of layers of pretension that he had built up.


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m good at making hot chocolate.¡±


    That was all he had to offer. It was everything of value to the man called Seymour Road, and he was sure it¡¯d be enough. Having truly reached his limit, Seymour let go of his consciousness. Even as all his powers of thinking splintered and faded, he still continued staring at Lumi alone, and what he saw at the very end was her smile.


    ¡°©¤©¤©¤©¤That¡¯s very lovely.¡±