Black Justice

by Raidensdangomilk

Summary:

Where Dazai and Chuuya are sent to France, to a town called ‘Fontaine,’ in an undercover mission. The Fatui’s suspicious activity can be investigated by them from there.

Chapter 1: Mission

“Oi, shitty Dazai, the boss is calling for us!” Chuuya slammed onto the door of Dazai’s shipping container, knowing Dazai was lazing around.

 

“Ugh, a slug has come to disturb me. Go awayyyyyy!!” Dazai whined, unwilling to get up from his bed, especially with a certain dog barking outside his comfy establishment.

 

“AND YOU’RE A DAMN STINKY MACKEREL!!! YOU GOT 10 SECONDS TO GET READY BEFORE I FUCKING BREAK THE DOOR!” Chuuya yelled in frustration.

 

As much as Dazai would love to continue pushing Chuuya’s buttons, a dog barking outside for who knows how long before coming over and dragging him with his slimy paws doesn’t seem appealing to him at the moment. He decided to grace his chibi dog with his almighty and dashing appearance, which his dog showed no appreciation for.

 

What bad taste, just like his hats. 

 

~~~

 

“Dazai-kun, Chuuya-kun. Glad you could come,” Mori said with a business smile on his face, watching the two men in front of him acting like children around each other.

 

“It was nothing, boss. It was getting this mackerel to move,” Chuuya said as he bowed in a show of respect to the boss, to which Dazai rolled his eyes at the display of loyalty.

 

“Well, I called both of you here today because something critical has happened,” Mori said, his eyes twitching in annoyance. This caught the attention of Dazai and Chuuya, who straightened in attention due to the grimness of the boss’s voice.

 

“For the past six years, the Fatui from the outside have been illegally passing the borders. They broke in, aiming to make Yokohama as their own territory,” Mori's eyes darkened, a dangerous sign. “How annoying.”

 

Chuuya's whole body was telling him to get out of that room. Mori already made him uncomfortable, but an annoyed Mori? He was on thin ice. Dazai remained silent, taking in his words.

 

“... Is this what our new mission is about?” Dazai blankly asked though he knew the answer to that question. Mori doesn’t share anything that is unrelated to missions after all.

 

“Yes. Your mission will be outside of Yokohama, Dazai-kun. Now please, pay attention to the next piece of information I’m gonna share with you two,” Mori replied, looking at the two executives from the hands he intertwined, prepped up by his elbows that lay on his desk. 

 

The brunette and redhead glanced at their boss, and eventually broke their stance. Chuuya folded his arms and looked off to the side where he couldn't see Dazai, who was cracking his neck because of how much he had to ruin his posture to look down at the former.

 

“Recently, we got some intel from our informant in France,” Mori inhaled and sat up straight, “Apparently, the Fatui’s activity arose in a base they held in France. They have more Skirmishers and Operatives supervising a small town, as well as two high-ranked Harbingers residing in the same spot for the time being.”

 

He pulls out a laptop, and spins it around to show them a tab that seems to be tracking someone — one of the Harbingers maybe.

 

“One of them hasn’t moved from this spot for the past three weeks,” he explained, “This one in particular is more relevant towards you, Chuuya-kun.” Drawing his attention, Chuuya peered at the boss’s computer. 

 

“The Harbinger I’m tracking was a collaborator in the Arahabaki incident ,” Mori dropped on him. Dazai looked awed, but Chuuya looked almost distraught that this was brought up years later. Sure he doesn’t remember too much, but that’s not for a lack of interest in payback… 

 

“Who’s the guy?” Chuuya asked. His look darkened a little bit, but he remembered he’s talking to his boss.

 

“His official title as a Fatui Harbinger is called Il Dottore,” Mori switched the computer back to him, “Codename: The Doctor. He’s known as the second-ranked Harbinger, and for being the scientist of the organization, and responsible for many unlawful experiments and projects.”

 

”What about the other one?” Dazai stepped forward.

 

“The fourth-ranked,” Mori replied, “Official title: Arlecchino. Codename: The Knave. They’re more active in this spot than The Doctor, so it’s either a visit, or collaboration.”

 

“Regardless, I’ll be sending you two down to their base in order to gather intel on what their plans are.” Dazai and Chuuya simultaneously groaned at that statement.

 

“Why am I still required to go ANYWHERE with him of all people?” Dazai whined.

 

“Boss, I’m the most capable fighter in all of the Port Mafia,” Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t you just leave the entire mission to me? Having him around is guaranteed to hinder the progress in my work.”

 

”Eh…?” Dazai tilted his head, “so you admit… that I distract you~?” 

 

“NO!!” Chuuya almost immediately shot back. To be honest, he got to him at ‘so’ , “I’m perfectly capable of ignoring you,” he added, a little more calmly.

 

“That’s not true at all!” Dazai argued, “All it takes is a couple of meaningless little words, and all of a sudden your heart slides all the way down from your cheek to your sleeve.” Chuuya clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, in a vain attempt to try and ignore Dazai again. 

 

”Don’t even try if you know you’re not gonna succeed at it!!” Dazai pointed his finger, which unfortunately, already made Chuuya immediately break character and smack away his hand.

 

Mori sighed, and rested his forehead against his intertwined hands. 

 

Seven years. Seven years, and their brains haven’t been able to learn how to tolerate nor get used to each other’s presences. Get a psychology degree, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. 

 

Mori straightened his posture, and sent a cold glare at them. “I suggest you listen for this next part,” he warned. Chuuya dusts off his vest, and looks to the side with his arms crossed again. Dazai grumbles something, before looking down at the ground.

 

“The Harbinger’s base is in a small town called Fontaine,” Mori began, "Since Fontaine is highly protected by Gardes and Gardemeks, you two will need someone to guide. And lucky for you, I've assigned a third person for this mission. He's really familiar with this place."

 

Dazai and Chuuya stared at their boss in confusion, before realization dawned on them.

 

"Boss..." Chuuya exclaimed with disbelief, "You don't mean... HIM ?!" 

 

Dazai snickered, with a common dubious look on his face. Mori simply nodded, to Chuuya’s dismay.

 

“Say all you want, but he is the key support,” he explained, “He will serve as a guide through the town, as well as a translator and coordinator. He will teach you all you need to know, especially when going undercover.”

 

Chuuya grumbled, returning his focus to the side of the room again, much to Dazai’s pleasure. Except this is the only kind he’ll get until they actually get who’s required to chaperone them, because he doesn’t like him either. He killed Chuuya’s family, after all. 

 

~~~

 

“Are you sure about this?” Kouyou needn’t tear her eyes away from her vanity. 

 

Mori watched the Oiran apply her lipstick religiously, with his back leaned against the doorway. “The Fatui’s activity in France is nothing to overlook,” his arms rejoiced from his back to cross over his chest, “Two Harbingers have remained there for an abnormal amount of time.”

 

Elise trotted up to Kouyou, immediately climbing onto her lap. The woman took the little girl in her arms and said, “No I understand that, my issue just lies with sending both our best executives over for mere investigation.”

 

”Need I repeat myself, or rephrase?” Mori eyed her, or more specifically, how she handled Elise. “Two of the more high-ranked Harbingers have remained in the town of Fontaine for an abnormal amount of time. Should anything go awry, Double Black can handle and cover any of it up as soon as possible.”

 

The woman peered back at him, which was unfortunate for her, as Elise was touching everything on her vanity…

 

“It’s not like you to worry about needing to cover anything up right away,” the oiran commented back, “I thought as long as you got what you wanted, the rest would be left to the test of time? Or do you know more about the Fatui’s activity than what you told the boys?”

 

Mori didn’t answer her. The only thing making noise was his little girl applying and removing Kouyou’s hair accessories.

 

“Obasan!” Elise cheeped, “Make my hair look like yours!”

 

Kouyou focused on the girl in her lap, actually just holding her as she stood up. She made her way over to Mori with the girl in her arms, “Let me ask you again: are you sure about this?” Mori only responded when Elise was brought to him, taking her in his arms from the woman.

 

“This mission’s purpose is to be sure that there’s nothing we can’t expect,” he finally replied. 

He at least tried to keep holding Elise, in spite of all her squirming.

 

“Fontaine is a very secure town anyway. It felt practical to me if I were to send whoever was better at handling Port Mafia-classified business.” He added, eventually hurled Elise over his shoulder, because she wasn’t keeping still.

 

“I see,” Kouyou gave him a look, before asking another question. "One last question: Was it really necessary to send in that man as well? We all know both him and these two boys aren’t getting along, especially after that incident ."

 

"Come now, Kouyou, you know me well enough," The man chuckled, "I understand your frustration, believe me. But I assure you: nothing would go wrong in this mission."

 

Kouyou let out a sigh, before Elise whined ”Obasan!!” when she returned back to her spot at the vanity, and as Mori strode off back to his office. 

 

”I am sure,” he thought to himself, ”Two Devils in one spot doesn’t mean nothing.”

Chapter 2: O Brother

“Chuuya, your incessant mumbling is giving me a migraine,” Dazai sighs, rubbing his forehead with two fingers, “can you close your mouth all the way shut?”

 

… Out of spite, Chuuya doesn’t heed to that demand. Dazai eyes him; not only irritated at the shorter man’s buzzing, he’s also wondering at what he’s actually saying. The more they descend into the Port Mafia’s catacombs to reach the key piece for this mission, the reverberation from the echoing of Chuuya’s whispers seeps into Dazai’s mind, as if he wasn’t insane already. 

 

With Chuuya leading both of them, they finally reach a cell. Atop the handle of its door sits a combination Chuuya enters a string of numbers in order to open it. When the device beeps positively, Chuuya holds out his arm to hold Dazai back.

 

“Stay here,” he glared at him over his shoulder. Dazai listened this time, although he did find it at least a little bit ironic how the dog was ordering its owner around. 

 

Chuuya turns to the door, and turns the handle down to open it up. He first peeked his head inside to see if the menace inside was still intact, if he hadn’t lost his mind while in here. And sure enough, the big bad King of Assassins was just sitting directly in the middle of the room. Criss crossed on the bed, arms crossed, and eyes closed. That is, until he heard the door. 

 

His eyes open halfway, and he looks up to the door, making direct eye contact with his little brother. It almost struck a nerve inside him, but he opened the door just a little further to lean against its metal frame, and crossed his arms.

 

“Is there a storm?” Verlaine questioned.

 

“There’s a light thunder,” Chuuya answered.

 

Verlaine hummed, and looked down at the floor. Chuuya pushes himself off the door frame, walking in, “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare.”

 

He holds his hand out to the French man. “We need you.”

 

Verlaine’s eyes almost lit up. “My little brother needs—” “—You have to be normal.”

 

The French man almost got petulant with Chuuya, but he controls himself with grace. He uncrossed his legs, and pushed down on them to get up off his bed to stand up (Chuuya had retracted his hand right after he had said the words ‘little brother’ ).

 

“What is needed of me?” He follows Chuuya and Dazai out of his cell, back up to the first floor of the PM’s Headquarters.

 

“The boss wants us to inspect a small town in France, ‘cause a couple of the Mother of Russia’s chess pieces have remained in the same spot for an abnormal amount of time,” Dazai walked in front of the group. Chuuya says to his older brother, “We need you to translate for us.”

 

Verlaine hummed thoughtfully; he adjusted his hat. “You won’t be disappointed; we’ll be able to get around easily.”

 

After all that stair climbing, the trio leaves the basement. Verlaine blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the actual lights on the first floor. Then, he throws an arm around Chuuya’s shoulder. “When do we set off?”

 

Chuuya almost cringed, more likely because the room wasn’t empty, and Dazai is right there, but he hides the top half of his face by tilting his hat down. “Few days,” he mutters. 

 

Dazai deadpanned at them, with a subtle glare in his eye. It doesn’t help that Verlaine can be so nonchalant about brushing his dirty looks off either, and Chuuya really doesn’t want to mediate anything that happened between them right now, so he walks out of Verlaine’s embrace, taking the leading role of the group again.

 

“The boss, as always, doesn’t want any slip ups. Especially not from us… so what Dazai and I agreed on was going undercover.”

 

“Smart,” Verlaine commented, “May I help?”

 

Chuuya actually gives it some thought. “I’d prefer that, over something stereotypical that Dazai would romanticize to get women to commit suicide with him.”

 

Dazai scoffed, and put his hand over his heart. “C-Chuuya,” his jaw dropped, in mock-disbelief, “I would do no such thing!”

 

Chuuya delivers him another over-the-shoulder glare. “Shaddup,” he spat, “you’d go out to seek the sad women in the streets late at night, tell them you listen to Mistki — like any French woman would listen to American music — to manipulate them, and try to take them down with you.” 

 

… Dazai pouted, and shamefully looked down at the ground. “... Mitski’s Asian-American—”

 

Verlaine actually had to catch Chuuya mid-lunge just to hold him back. “Mon petit frère,” he almost purred his words, “he’s not worth it.” Breathing aggressively, he shoves Verlaine’s arms away, and dusts his vest off with one final huff.

 

He picks up his hat and dusts that off as well, as Dazai snickers at him. Verlaine steps in between them to block Dazai from his view, “But now that I’ll be making myself useful, let’s get down to it.”

 

~~~

 

Heels clicking against the wooden floors did not signify a pretty, young lady walking down these corridors. 

 

Oftentimes, to the orphans who lived here, it’s a sign of the Father who raises them to be just like her. The sound of the Father’s heels carry an eerie, and authoritative aura around each step, so the children here can easily tell who's coming. Such is the same for the Father’s most prized protege, one of the three residents of this apartment. 

 

Lyney, hearing Father from down the hallway already, doesn’t need to hide anything under his pillow or bed. He simply shuffles his deck of cards while at his desk, until Father finally knocks on the door.

 

“Lyney,” she spoke, “I need to briefly share something with you.” 

 

He gets up, and goes to open the door. The Knave’s imposing figure stands at a respectable distance from the door, as she’s in an overcoat of some sort.

 

“I will be heading out to have a meeting with the Doctor,” she stated, “I don’t expect this meeting to be any longer than perhaps 45-60 minutes. Possibly more, if he’s feeling good about himself.”

 

Lyney sighed, because she had just arrived here not too long ago to visit. “That’s not a problem,” he replied. 

 

“I would hope not,” she peers at him. But, she pats his shoulder. “I assure you that I’m making it back tonight.” 

 

“—Preferably in one piece,” Lynette remarked as she briefly passed down the hallway.

 

For as professional as she was, the Knave really wanted to laugh. Alas, she straightens her trench coat and makes it to the door. “Reserve some soup for me; it’ll remedy me after this meeting,” she grumbled as she closed the door. 

 

It was late at night in Fontaine, and the streets were damp from the other day’s rain. The sun had just set completely, and the streetlamps were already on the clock.

 

Peruere would’ve preferred it if all of them were off; a personal desire for a nighttime stroll. But such pleasure is held off when she sees a coworker approaching. Stereotypically, and to contrast, his trench coat was white. 

 

“What a delight it is to see you here,” he sneered.

 

“I still don’t grasp the idea of your attachment to that mask,” the Knave replies, “nobody here would care who you are.” 

 

Dottore drew closer, “Ah, is the life of a parent softening your edges?” He said.

 

“There’s still the Gardes, much less the Chief Justice being closely tied to the Prime Minister.” Arlecchino scowled, but her breathing and temperaments were still kept under control. “As a Harbinger, I thought highly of you enough to work your way around risks as delicate as discovery, especially for someone so clandestine. Unless you’re so attached to the theme of your title?”

 

Dottore rolled his eyes, “Let’s act like adults.”

 

Arlecchino begrudgingly strolls beside Dottore all the way to his base. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind it if another coworker was under the same roof?” He slyly remarked as he unlocked the front door, “he is of no use to us right now, but avoid him anyway.” 

 

The Balladeer was watering some plants Dottore bought to get him to leave him alone in the kitchen. He side-glances to him, then to Arlecchino, before back to his anemones and balloon flowers. 

 

The Knave and The Doctor sit at the dining room table, which was completely covered in papers that varied in size. Some were progress reports, some were sketches and blueprints, some here just notes, there’s a few sticky notes here and there, and there were about two to three clipboards.

 

Arlecchino scrutinizes the Doctor’s mess, in a small attempt to make sense of his business. “I must apologize,” Dottore sits down in front of Arlecchino, “I may tend to get lost in my research.”

 

Arlecchino crossed her arms, “What is needed of me?”

 

“Oh, I don’t need anything from you,” Dottore sneered again, resting his chin on the hands which intertwined, and were propped up by the elbows that sat atop the papers. Sometimes he looks like he genuinely thinks he’s cute when he’s condescending. Even Scaramouche slightly shudders, especially when he mentions, “I was originally working on bringing an old project back to life. But, I was pondering about different ideas and possibilities revolving around said project.”

 

Arlecchino hums, “So nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

“—But!” Dottore lifts a finger, “I’m entering dangerous ground here. See here, Peruere—”

 

… Scaramouche mentally braced himself right as Arlecchino’s scythe had already made intimate contact with the Doctor’s throat. He sighs through his nose and leans back, “See here, I had an old friend. He left this world at some point as we were working on the original project together, so it was left unfinished. I didn’t dig up this project because I was feeling reminiscent of his presence, but a miracle had happened while I wasn’t there to witness it for myself. Thus, I am using myself as ‘bait’ to lead the subject in, so that I may have two subjects at my disposal to work on.”

 

… Arlecchino has nothing to say to that, or at least not before thinking deeply about what he could possibly mean for someone who had no limits in regards to his experimenting. Not in an ‘anything is possible’ kind of way, it’s just that she’s seen him go to atrocious lengths for things to play out exactly how he wanted.

 

Her scythe dematerializes, and she sits back down, crossing her arms and legs again. “What makes it so important that I need to know about it?”

 

Dottore just gives her a small smile. “I personally don’t believe that the subject dropping in on us would come… let’s say, unarmed, or alone. I invited you here to suggest that you prepare your child soldiers in case you felt the need to get into the mix between us.”

 

Again, another stare-down from the woman, who wore it so often around this particular man, she almost had him thinking her face was naturally shaped like that. 

Chapter 3: Demons in a Devil's Territory

A modest little boat floats atop the gentle waters, nearing a docking spot. The inhabitants, Dazai, Chuuya and Verlaine, set their eyes on the town that awaits them. 

 

Once the boat aligns perfectly at a dock, and the driver stops right where they are. The boys hop off one by one — Verlaine first, who’s to be the leader, Chuuya next, and then after comes Dazai. 

 

— Who ends up taking a moment to bend over and spew out whatever “breakfast” (alcohol and crab meat straight from the can) into the river. Chuuya turned his head from Verlaine trying to fix a wrinkled map he crammed into his pocket, and glared at the hurling man. 

 

“Dazai!” He reprimanded, “seriously, go find a fucking trash can! What if you contaminate the damn water supply of Fontaine?!” 

 

“Chuuuyyyaaaa!!!!!” Dazai whimpered, hugging his stomach. Chuuya scoffed hard, and turned back to Verlaine, “Where’s Hotel Debord?” 

 

Verlaine finally figured out how to hold the map of Fontaine upright, and turned to Chuuya. “We’re right here,” he pointed to the far-right corner of the area’s outline, “and the hotel is… all the way here.” He lightly dragged his finger across the map to the left, where the map suggests that the hotel’s location is near the town’s border. 

 

Chuuya huffed, and frowned. “All that’s left now are directions,” he looked around them. He sets his eyes on a girl, or—… cat-girl, who was standing at the edge of one of the docks. Her tail swished behind her curiously, as she peered down into the water. 

 

Unfortunately, Dazai saw the same girl too. 

 

Unprofessionally, the taller man rolled over right onto his feet, much akin to a cat, and casually strolls right along towards the catgirl who was standing suspiciously close to the river below her. 

Her low, long ponytail is swayed over her shoulder, as she smooths it out. Her purple, downturned eyes were seemingly fixed on her own reflection in the water, up until a certain Casanova took her hand. 

 

“All on your lonesome, beautiful?” He purred, “let’s make it more romantic — why don’t you join me-AUGHHH!!”

 

Dazai suddenly started hopping around, feeling something crawling in his shoe. He was holding onto it, while a boy with a diving helmet emerged from the water, and took the catgirl by the hand to book it. 

 

Dazai just took his show off, and fished out a whole ass crab that the boy must’ve slipped in there. He frantically glances around to search for them again, and when he does, they’re peeking from behind a third party.

 

After having watched the incident play out, Chuuya turned to the new guy as well. He approached them with a bow, and a tip of his top-hat. 

 

“My apologies,” He greeted, “I’m afraid you may have made them feel threatened.”

 

“No, we’re the ones who are sorry,” Chuuya came up to him, smacking Dazai in the back of the head with Verlaine not too far behind him. “My idiot partner was a leash kid, and he’s just getting high off of freedom.”

 

Dazai giggled almost like he’s embarrassed, although deep down Chuuya knows he’s completely shameless. But the boy in front of them seemed to buy it. 

 

“So you’ve got jokes! My siblings and I are more magic-type entertainment.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t argue against the fact that there’s definitely something magical you have going on,” Dazai gazes at the girl, but glared at the other boy.

 

“You’d see a lot more of it if you take the time to come and see our show,” the leading boy aristocratically re-placed his top hat back on the top of his head, “let me start over — my name is Lyney. My sister is Lynette, and my brother is Freminet.”

 

Lynette, with her ears in airplane mode, peeked back at the two men in front of Lynet. Freminet takes off his diving helmet, fixing his hair; he stands a little closer to Lynette. 

 

“Ah, I’m Tsushima Shuuji,” Dazai stepped forward to shake Lyney’s hand, “and he’s my fiancé.”

 

“… Felix Verlaine,” Chuuya almost cringed, having to say the last name out loud as a smug-looking Verlaine gave a thumbs up.

 

Lyney shook his hand as well. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he beamed, “and again, I recommend you come and take a look at our show sometime! I believe the tickets are on sale this time around?” He looked to Lynette for confirmation, to which she nodded. 

 

“We’ll put it on our list,” Chuuya slung an arm around Dazai, “but we should get going. Say… you know the fastest route to Hotel Debord?” 

 

Freminet bashfully perked from behind Lyney. “Not from here. This port area is probably the only one nearest to it…” his voice trailed off as Dazai’s dead eyed stare struck him. He hid his face in the back of Lyney’s neck. 

 

“Shit… we can handle a little walk,” Chuuya sighed as his hand gripped Dazai’s shoulder. He tugged him back with him as he began to stay away from the triplets. “Thanks anyway.” 

 

As the twins departed as well, Verlaine eyed them from his spot, watching them as they went along. But his looks softened up as quickly as his little brother returned with his fiancé (which he hates admitting as much as Chuuya). 

 

“Best we can do is walk,” Chuuya told him and sighed, “mind leading the way?” 

 

Verlaine beckoned Chuuya and Dazai to follow him. The men take a stroll down a street that leads directly into the main urban space of the town. The town was so… prettily niche. 

 

The buildings are tall, and pristine. Flowers sit atop windowsills of open windows, and vines occasionally cascade down from the flowers. 

 

Verlaine began to walk more casually, almost folding up the map. His eyes were more attracted to the city around them, looking thoughtfully at everything — the buildings, the children on the sidewalks, the sailors coming and going, and the mini shops all perfectly aligned in single lines of streets. 

 

“… This place hasn’t changed much,” he remarked under his breath. As he glanced back over his shoulder, Chuuya was trying to pry Dazai away from terrifying a group of little girls. Verlaine just tries to actually focus on the map instead. 

 

“That’s enough, Shuuji —” Chuuya grumbled as he tried to take the hand that was holding a half-alive butterfly that had one wing torn. “Shut it, Felix , I’m teaching them!” Dazai retorted back. 

 

The four girls in front of them, watching this interaction, all huddle together for comfort. Eventually, one of them stepped up. 

 

The little girl with pastel blue pigtails that faded into pastel pink gently brought Dazai’s hand down towards her to inspect the butterfly closely. Chuuya and Dazai observe the little girl, as she proceeds to take the bug from Dazai’s hand. Her hands clasp it closed like a clam, and she walks off somewhere to set its corpse down in a patch of grass. 

 

While she’s distracted with that, Chuuya drags Dazai by the ear to catch up with Verlaine… again.

 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m babysitting a child,” Chuuya growled, “ stay with the damn group, you stinky mackerel.”

 

Dazai gently rubbed his ear with a scowl. But, on the way, his arm happened to graze another woman’s shoulder. 

 

… And the little lady couldn’t help but take offense to that. 

 

Dazai spared a natural light glance, while the lady whipped her head back with a frown. She stomped her heels up to him, and reached almost all the way up to grasp his shoulder.

 

“ Excuse you!” She squeaked, “walk with some class , why don’t you?!” 

 

Dazai sighed at the midget, as did Chuuya for having their journey interrupted once again. But, the woman’s voice sends something through Verlaine. He looked over his shoulder, and immediately came over to the duo. Folding the map and tucking it under his armpit, he takes Dazai’s other shoulder. 

 

He sends a message through his eyes, before stepping around the man. “My apologies, Lady Furina,” he held his hand out for a handshake, “I was just escorting my brother and his fiancé to Fontaine’s hotel.” 

 

The woman called Lady Furina looked at Verlaine with a more favored, preppy attitude, and shook his hand. “Well,” she placed her other hand over her heart, “Excusez-moi, I had no idea I would run into you again~!!”

 

Dazai cracked a side eye to Verlaine as Lady Furina let go of his shoulder. The blonde Frenchman then stepped in and took control of the whole interaction. “M ademoiselle , I’m afraid it’s been a small while since my stay here. Would you do us the honors of pointing us in the direction of Hotel Debord?”

 

Lady Furina smirked, and held her hand out for his map. Once he handed it to her, she opened it back up, and scrutinized it with enthusiasm.

 

“Monsieur, you gentlemen are all the way over here ,” she took a pen out and drew a small circle at a point on the map, revealing that they were already almost halfway into the town, “you’ll need to take this route, which leads you directly to it.” She drew a spotted line directly to the hotel’s location, and began scribbling something at the bottom right corner of the paper.

 

“Glad to know we’re already close,” Chuuya replied, and tried to take the map. Furina pulled away for a moment, then finished her scribbling and handed it back to him. Chuuya looked at the map, and found the Lady’s signature written in obnoxious cursive. He scoffed, but if Verlaine is showing clear respect for this woman, he figured it would be better to follow suit. 

 

“Thank you, m ademoiselle,” he commended, and kicked Dazai’s shin to do the same. Dazai huffed, and bowed to pay his respects. “We’ll be going .” 

 

Dazai took Chuuya by the hand, and started walking. “Oi! I’m the one with the map, you dipshit!” “Then start ordering me around — as you do .”

 

Verlaine bowed to Lady Furina, before heading off to the two men. Meanwhile, the Lady strolled right along. Chuuya croaked out directions such as left and right , as Dazai yanked his arm along. Verlaine walked behind the duo, keeping a watchful eye out… almost like he’s expecting another bump in the road, but from behind. 

 

Regardless, it takes some twists and turns before they finally reach their destination. Verlaine is the one to push open the front doors of Hotel Debord, and leads them inside. The structure and scenery was gorgeous, and nigh-perfect. The overarching ceiling window of the main lobby let the sunlight set the tone of the pearl and teal environment. 

 

Verlaine let Dazai and Chuuya go settle at a nearby lounging area (to which Dazai immediately slouched on without question), before checking in at the front desk. Chuuya sat down next to Dazai on a teal couch, crossing his legs. He nudges Dazai, and he doesn’t necessarily budge. At least not until Verlaine returned with their room keys. 

 

Then, Chuuya had to grab him by the back of his collar like picking up a cat just to get him completely off the couch. He kept him stable by the hand as they walked all the way up to their rooms. Once they got inside, he let Dazai go and flop down on one of the beds. 

 

Chuuya sat next to him, taking his hat off. He let out a relaxed sigh, as they’ve finally made it. He said, “Verlaine, just what was so special about the woman you had to sweet-talk to get past earlier?” 

 

“That was the Prime Minister of France,” the man casually replied. 

 

… The two men on the bed perked up in shock almost immediately. 

 

“WHAAATT?! THAT WOMAN WAS THE DAMN PRIME MINISTER?!” Chuuya was bewildered. 

 

“Urgh!! This is gonna be harddddd now that the Prime Minister is visiting town!!” Dazai just whined, as he dug his face deeper into the pillows. Chuuya fell back onto the pillows as well, facing Dazai.

 

“C’mon, we’ve worked our way around political figures before,” he assured, “wouldn’t you just be able to manipulate your way out anyway?” 

 

“… You have a pointttt ,” Dazai drawled back, “ I’m just tiredddd… ” And without any warning, Dazai tackled Chuuya in a tight squeeze.

 

“H-HEY—!!” The shorter man squirmed. The taller man doesn’t budge. “I could die like this,” he mumbled; his embrace got tighter the more Chuuya wiggled. 

 

“… Boys,” Verlaine caught their attention, “we start tomorrow. Let’s review what we have to do.” The man sat at the foot of the bed Dazai and Chuuya are cuddling on, with his arms crossed.

 

“Mori has sent us a handful of locations where he suspects the Fatui may be lurking, including the original spot he’s shown you. The first one we will inspect tomorrow will be an abandoned research institute about Northeast from here — the hotel, I mean.”

 

Chuuya peeked from Dazai’s arms to pay attention; Dazai sat up with Chuuya in a headlock.

 

“Oi-!”

 

“How early are we heading out?” Dazai asked, messing up Chuuya’s hair.

 

“As early as 7 AM,” Verlaine told him, “we’ll need to be prepared for any potential Fatui agents who’ll most likely be guarding the area. Because it’s reserved, and further away from the town, I’ll let you two do what you want if we catch anybody.” 

 

Dazai smirked. Chuuya pulled his head out of the crook of Dazai’s arm and smoothed out his hair, “What’s a couple of Fatui lackeys gonna do to us ?” 

 

… Dazai pulled Chuuya back onto the bed with another hug. Verlaine scrutinized Dazai, mentally condemning him… This would be a tough mission for the Frenchman himself…

 

~~~

 

Lady Furina merrily strolls along the streets of Fontaine, the streets being wet from casual rain. Childishly humming along, and strutting about, up until a taller woman’s hand came down on her shoulder. 

 

“… My Lady,” her monotonous voice rumbled from behind the Prime Minister. Lady Furina tilted her head back, “Ma chérie Clorinde,” she grinned, ”I’m afraid I’ll need you to stick around with me for a few more hours in advance~!”

 

Clorinde crossed her arms as Furina turned to face her. “There a criminal on the loose?”

 

Furina twirls around her, “Oh, I don’t know~!” She eventually stopped behind her. “… I just stumbled across a familiar face earlier this morning,” she mentioned. 

 

Clorinde mentally runs down a list of already wanted criminals. Furina whispers, “Keep your eyes peeled. I’ll contact the Chief Justice in any case.” Clorinde nods. 

 

… Furina suddenly took her by the wrist, and tried to drag her to a nearby bakery. “C’mon, let’s get some cake~!!” 

 

Begrudgingly, Clorinde followed the child that is the Prime Minister all the way to the register of the desired bakery. More specifically, her favorite to order from. 

 

Clorinde waited at a mini round table while her Lady went crazy with her order. Eventually, she returned to her bodyguard and sat across from her.

 

“So~!!” She beamed, “What kind of legal advantage do we have against the King of Assassins who had returned from the dead?”

 

“What we had was a suspicion,” Clorinde corrected, surprised at what Furina just said, “we still have nothing that proves a correlation between him, his partner, and the string of murders throughout France. But what do you mean by him returning from the dead?”

 

“According to our documents, he was supposed to stay dead, yes. But…” Furina’s face darkened, before the petite woman added, “He had made his appearance today, right in front of me, at Fontaine. That man didn’t seem to return to the country with his partner, however, but with two younger men instead.” 

 

“Two younger men?” Clorinde squints at that. “Who are they?” 

 

“No idea,” Furina sighed. She rests her head in her arms on the round table, “For now, we’ll have to keep a careful eye on them to find out. But I don’t want to worry the citizens by increasing security, or anything like that, so we should settle for someone on the inside…”

 

Clorinde nodded in agreement. “That would be wise,” she remarked, before a waitress came up to their table with an extravagant order of macarons, crepes, and chocolate mousses for the two women. 

 

Furina wasted no time working on her own mousse. With etiquette, she finished her bite before saying, “Aren’t you acquainted with the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide?” She mentioned, “I’m sure you can get him to send someone down.” 

 

Clorinde takes a small bite out of a blue macaron. “I wouldn’t escalate to a spy already,” she commented, “I think it’s better for you to get the Chief Justice to check them out first. If he can’t find any documents on them, we’ll deploy the head nurse. By then, she could report back to the Administrator periodically.” 

 

“Interesting,” Furina said, “nobody would expect to be stalked by a grade-schooler, anyway…” 

 

“… Mademoiselle, you’ve taken up almost all the macarons…”

 

“—Sshhh!! I must make an important call,” Furina sat sideways in her chair, and pulled out her phone. She tapped on one of her speed-dial numbers, and held her phone up to her ear in anticipation…

 

The Chief Justice picked up on the other side. “Bonne soirée, this is Monsieur Neuvillette speaking.” 

 

Furina pompously giggled, which earned her a sigh from the other end of the line. If she were using her office phone, she’d definitely be twirling the cord. “ Monsieur ~!!” She answered, “I have a favor to ask…”

Chapter 4: Trial One

“Catch up, ya lazy ass!” Chuuya called out to Dazai, who was wearily stumbling after them. 

 

Dazai whined like a tired child, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t get why we had to set out so early,” he complained. His hand runs down his face, and he stops in his tracks when Chuuya makes a stop to straighten his tie. 

 

“We agreed on this yesterday,” he grumbled, and brushed off Dazai’s shoulder, “and I don’t want to hear you complaining the entire way there.” 

 

Without having enough energy to turn this into an argument, Dazai chooses to be smart and stays quiet. How he feels is better communicated with the looks he throws at Chuuya behind his back as the three men set out. 

 

“This first one is a little far,” Verlaine stated, and took the map out of his trench coat pocket, “from the center of the town, our first spot would be Southeast. But, as the hotel is Southwest from the same point, we’ll be traveling across the entire town, essentially.” 

 

Dazai groaned, and Chuuya scoffed. “Let’s just hope that this is as inconvenient as it gets,” Chuuya remarked under his breath, scowling at the ground as they go. 

 

“… Technically,” Verlaine said, “I know a place. We may use it as a secret base, if you want…” 

 

“I’d rather die than have to run laps around the city!” Dazai fussed, “c’mon, Chuuya, you can’t say no—”

 

—Chuuya shot him a glare, non-verbally telling him to shut up. He looks back to Verlaine, “If we consider that, then what’s the purpose of staying at the hotel?” 

 

“A cover,” Verlaine simply replied, “at my place, we can do most of the inside investigating. Especially during occasions where we’d be getting tracked, we can go back to the hotel.” 

 

Chuuya begins to think. “Chuuuuyyyyaaaaa,” Dazai slumped over the smaller man, with his arms wrapped around his shoulders — which only resulted with a sharp elbow to the rib cage. “I’ll think about it,” Chuuya eventually answered, ignoring Dazai’s whimpering. 

 

The three men cross about one more street until it takes Dazai no time to recover, though. The primary reason being he saw yet another pretty lady in a mauve coat to scuttle towards. As he divided from the group and got close enough behind the woman, he first straightened out his large overcoat that hung off his shoulders like a cloak. 

 

“… I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all alone,” he slides into her view. He smirks when she looks up at him, and takes one of her hands. “There’s barely anyone else in this specific spot… that way, no one can stop us.”

 

“… Stop us from what?” The woman frowned. 

 

“… From committing suicide together~”

 

“...” The woman doesn’t react immediately, but she glances off to the side like she’s actually considering it. “… That’s a phenomenon I’m still figuring out,” she answered, “there are already many factors that contribute to the suicide of just one person, but when it’s with another, it adds more layers to get into…” 

 

“… How deep of you,” Dazai mused, “but why think so deeply about it? The more you think about why you’re even alive, the more it seems pointless to keep doing it… thinking about it too much either drives you crazy or drives you to the logical standpoint. I’m simply just romanticizing it~” 

 

The woman hummed half-thoughtfully. “… Oh well then,” she slips her hand out of his, “if there’s no point, then I won’t bother.” 

 

“Wh—hey, wait, I didn’t say give up—!” Dazai attempted to pursue the woman further, but Chuuya stepped in and yanked him back by the shoulder. 

 

“Please excuse my fiancé,” he said to the woman, “we’ll leave you alone.” Chuuya drags Dazai back to Verlaine by the ear. 

 

“Don’t just go straying off,” he hissed to him. Dazai, rubbing his ear, petulantly crosses his arms and turns his head away from him with a huff. To make sure he wouldn’t run off one more time, Chuuya lets Verlaine lead the group. 

 

“Our first point of investigation is an abandoned study hall, which is a part of a research institution,” Verlaine began to explain, as he led them down a lone path, “for kinetic energy, more specifically. The campus is semi-excluded from the town, but the area is spacious enough for people like the Fatui to work with. Speaking of, be prepared to fight, or at least look sharp for scouts, or Fatui inside the institute.”

 

”You know us,” Dazai grinned, “we’ll give them hell.” 

 

~~~

 

The three men approached the abandoned research institute campus before too long; they travelled up to a tall, stone building with a plethora of vines sprouting from the cracks windows. This one must be the assembly hall. 

 

“When do you think this academy was founded?” Dazai half-heartedly kicks some rocks near the entrance. Chuuya steps up beside him, “I’d estimate this building’s been sitting here for a good 20 years.” 

 

“Buildings don’t age like wine, you slug~” Dazai quipped, which Chuuya glared at him for. He scoffs, and says, “I’m just sayin’ — the greenery around the area isn’t too obnoxious, so it’s not completely abandoned, or at least rundown. Like Verlaine said, look sharp.” 

 

Speaking of, a mild struggle was heard nearby around the same area. Verlaine returns, dragging a bracer-skirmisher by the back of his hood. “He was waiting,” was the only explanation given. 

 

“… Neh, he can take care of the outside,” Dazai waved him off, as he slipped into the great tear in the building, which left a wide, inviting entrance. Chuuya catches up, but almost stumbles back the same time Dazai had, as his eyes landed on a very specifically structured mechanism. 

 

While it was stationary, the mechanic structure was shaped like a spiked ring, with more ringlets circling a piece of stone, almost mimicking an accurately depicted angel. It looked so meticulously crafted, it damned the thought of recent activity in Dazai and Chuuya’s minds. 

 

“You certainly don’t belong here,” Dazai said, taking a few steps forward. “What do you think this one does?” 

 

Chuuya matches his pace, only to block Dazai with his arm. “Hold on a moment — keep your distance from this thing. If this is something that the Fatui is working on, don’t even touch it.” 

 

Dazai raises his eyebrow at his partner, but he doesn’t make any further movement. “Regardless, if we don’t search now, someone will definitely come back later,” Dazai says, “maybe we can have one of us secretly keep watch…” 

 

Chuuya puts his arm down, and rests his hand on his hip. “I kinda wish we’d brought more men for something like that,” he sighed, “but… we could lose Paul this way, y’know…” 

 

“… What’re you suggesting?” Dazai tilted his head at him. 

 

“I’m saying, we should take advantage of our time here,” Chuuya crossed his arms as he steps up to his partner, “boss has been running us around for about half the year already; all the wine I’ve been saving is just sittin’ back at home, and right when I thought we’d get some time to ourselves, the boss throws this whole overseas investigation at us…” 

 

“… The one time you don’t feel like playing as the mafia’s dog,” Dazai snickers. 

 

“The one time I try to get sentimental— ” Chuuya playfully slugged Dazai’s arm for that, “at least it takes something for me to wear my heart on my sleeve. You couldn’t even hold hands with me when we were 20!” 

 

“That’s different!” Dazai squeaked as he rubbed his arm, “anyway, I was just saying that we should check this thing. It would help to know about it, at the very least.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Chuuya finally (and begrudgingly) agreed. “What’re we supposed to say about this to the boss?” 

 

“I was thinking of sending picture evidence,” Dazai suggested, “trying to learn about what it is, and what it does would be ideal as well… but that’s an option.” 

 

… So was the machine choosing to activate on its own. 

 

Dazai and Chuuya jumped back for distance at the sudden movement. Chuuya scrutinized it critically, while Dazai remained unfazed as he analyzed the way it behaved. 

 

The core of it — the stone — illuminated, as the bronze machine ascended. The outer, mechanical spiked ring spun around the core, and the crescent ring between them remained upright, and stationary. Two hand-sized bolts floated below, but still near the living mechanism. 

 

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, “you handle open-air combat.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” a crimson aura surrounded Chuuya, as he ascended at the same level as the machine. 

 

The outer ringlet twirled around the core, until from four points upon it sprouted missiles that swirled up like a firework, and turned down to spew down at Dazai. Dazai swiftly dodges, and from a new stance, attempts to calculate its next move. 

 

What he didn’t expect to see, was the minor rubble within the area to rise with the machine. The core began to glow, and as the ringlets were spinning rapidly, the claws on the bottom of the outer ring (with the help of the bolts) generated a beam of light. It struck to the ground, which created a shockwave throughout the entire joint that forced everything to jump up. 

 

Chuuya caught Dazai by the back of his overcoat. “Damn, this machine is elite!” he remarked, “just what the hell are the Fatui up to?!”

 

“C-Chuuya—” Dazai tried to reach his partner’s hand; he was mildly suffocating. 

 

Chuuya flies up to the opening of the building, and drops Dazai down to sit on the top of the wall. “Hmm… a pretty decent height to jump off of, I must say…”

 

“Stop thinkin’ about dying for a moment,” Chuuya stands next to him. He glared down at the prototype in the building, “We need a way to counter that thing. Ground-level is obviously dangerous, and the damn thing doesn’t fly high enough for me to avoid damaging the building further than it already is.” 

 

“Why don’t I observe?” Dazai suggested, “maybe you and I can observe from different levels — me from high up, and you from down low — so that we can find a weak point. No chance you’d find it first, but we can give it a go~!”

 

“… You’re on,” Chuuya accepted, “I’m at least a little glad I can have a fight with something on my level.” 

 

On that note, Chuuya descended into the arena; the prototype was charging another attack. Both the two bolts were discharging lasers, sweeping the field as they spun in a circle. Chuuya’s red aura immersed him again as he flew up to easily avoid it. 

 

“Is that the best ya got?” he smirked, “you did better earlier; c’mon, give me a challenge!” 

 

The machine ascended to a level higher than Chuuya. From the core, it dropped more bombs, which were almost hard to avoid. Chuuya swerved in multiple directions to avoid most of them, and used his ability to hold the rest in place. 

 

He shot the preserved ones back up at the prototype, hitting it effectively. It tumbled down lower, but still remained mostly intact. The bolts rise above the machine to stick together, and the inner ringlest rises in between the bolts and outer ring. This is when the prototype summons more pieces of the rubble to send towards Chuuya’s way. 

 

He dodges them with ease, even sending some right back at it. “ So far, its best moves are air strikes ,” He thought as he kept leveling with the prototype, “ but it’s also generating energy from its core. Is that something I’ll need to destroy? ” 

 

The core illuminated vigorously — a sign of another attack. The bolts detach from one another, and go back to spinning in front of the outer ring, while the core rises from the middle of the mechanism. The ringlets soar up in an order below the core, as the claws rotate to point upwards at it as it suddenly drops; the action creates the same, but explosive shockwave that forces everything to jump… in midair. 

 

Chuuya was startled, and barely managed to regain his composure in the air. “ The hell?! ,” he thought, as he clutched his hat, “ the wave can work in the air? Or, no… that wasn’t just another wave of force. It just dropped a controlled explosion that mimicked the same effect… ”

 

The man floats higher in order to gain some leverage; meanwhile, the taller one was watching. Dazai, having analyzed the impressive prototype’s attempts at striking his partner, leaned back and stretched. With a dejected sigh, he remained leaning as he sat atop the tall wall of the whole building. 

 

He’s noted how Chuuya keeps rising up to higher levels with his opponent. “ Hm… if I end up within the crossfire, I guess I can jump if things get too intense ,” he thought. He crosses his legs, focused on the sky. It’s probably still morning, or nearing noon by this point, and he’s already feeling disinterested in everything surrounding him. 

 

“Alright, I’m done messing around!” Chuuya finally cracked. With the emphasis of holding out both of his hands, he shares a crimson aura with the prototype, who halts all its attacks. This is where Dazai glanced down, and gradually began to hunch forward as he assessed the scenario. 

 

“Ability: Upon the Tainted Sorrow ,” his partner growled. 

 

There were two particular pieces Chuuya had control over — the large outer ring, and the very core. With the force of his ability, and, albeit actual effort, he began to slowly force the core away from the whole mechanism. 

 

The irritation from the obnoxious air striking, paired with the crazed smirk of victory from the heart of a battle lover, made him look almost manic. 

 

By the two forces, the core of the prototype is successfully (but again, explosively) ravaged from its protected shell. 

 

The inner ringlets go flying in the same direction as the outer ring. Whatever spike pieces that were built into the structure barely managed to hang on, and the core component of it all was shot in the opposite direction. 

 

Chuuya’s chest was heaving, and there was a slight tremble to his hands. He ran his hand through his hair, and exhilaratingly sighed as he descended down and lost his crimson aura as he reached the ground. Now, with a more level headspace, he looks around him. 

 

Dazai finally slips down from the top, too quick to get injured. He crouches down to pick the core up, and comes to Chuuya holding it. 

 

“It’s interesting,” he mumbles, “that machine was purely mechanical. Cogs and everything. Just take a look at its core…”

 

Chuuya looks at what Dazai’s picked up. It slightly resembled the entire prototype — one big, brown cog with gold accents, and a smaller cog with a gold outside, and a yellow inside. The very middle is a tiny ball of energy, contained in a protective sphere. 

 

“Yer tellin’ me that entire robot was fueled by such a minuscule amount of pure energy?” Chuuya scoffed, “not bad, I gotta admit. But that just makes me wonder what else they could be creating…” 

 

“We should bring this back home,” Dazai tucked it in a pocket on the inside of his large coat. “Not only is it evidence, but it’s something Kaji could mess around with. But for now…” 

 

He walks past Chuuya where the prototype was originally seated; after the dust had cleared, it was revealed that there was a hatch door. Chuuya hummed thoughtfully and remarked, “Of course, it was a cover. But why be excessive over it?” 

 

“Depends on what they’re hiding in there,” Dazai replied; he turns to him with a smirk, “let’s go.” 

 

Dazai goes to open the hatch door, and sure enough, there’s a ladder leading down. Dazai motioned with his head for Chuuya to follow him down, and the shorter man would follow suit after Dazai started. 

 

As he reached the ground, he observed his surroundings. It doesn’t seem like it's a small hideout or anything, because there are actual corridors. Chuuya meets Dazai on the same level, and looks around. “Well, we found suspicious activity already,” he said. 

 

“As if that prototype didn’t give it away,” Dazai snarked as he walked past him, which earned him a sour side glance. Regardless, Chuuya followed his partner down the dark hallway. 

 

The only light that seemed to be there came from the lake water reflecting on the walls in the basement. The town of Fontaine was like a very small island that tagged along the whole shape of France, so it would make sense that underwater built-in catacombs. It reminds Chuuya of an aquarium… 

 

There are a couple other hallways on the mens’ sides, but Dazai’s main focus is the door right at the end of the main hallway. He gripped the handle, but it didn’t budge, so they resorted to plan B. 

 

From the perspective of the Fatui Operatives on the other side of the door, it just spontaneously burst open (with a kick from Chuuya). 

 

“What the hell?!” One of them yelled. “Is that the Gardes?!”

 

“Wait, it’s not…” the other said, and peered into the dust, “Oh god… Double Black!! It’s the Port Mafia!! Protect the file!!” She rested her hand on her sword hilt. 

 

Accordingly, her colleague rushed a couple documents back into their folder. Besides her, a colleague readied her staff to use it against the duo, which was unfortunately cut short by Dazai slipping by and snatching it too quickly for her to register. 

 

The operative holding the file backed away as she watched her partner get restrained by Dazai, but the folder was lifted from her hands. But she didn’t give up so easily — she made another attempt to grab it, but had to stop herself to block a blow from Chuuya. 

 

While her arm blocked, she unsheathed her sword, and attempted a strike. Chuuya jumped back to dodge, and the sword-wielding operative advanced forward to strike him again. 

 

Suddenly, she was knocked down when her staff-wielding colleague was thrown at her. The two Operatives crashed against the wall, with Dazai and Chuuya left standing. Dazai approaches Chuuya with the folder, “Look what we have here.” 

 

Chuuya keeps an eye on the operatives while Dazai unfolds the file. The one with the sword (under the one with the staff) weakly protested, “Hold on, don’t—”

 

Chuuya shot her a look. Then, Dazai comes up to him, almost in awe, as he hands him one of the papers. Chuuya takes it and looks at it… 

 

His eyebrows furrow as he words what he’s reading. 

 

Dazai hands him the other papers as Chuuya goes through them all. 

 

… He turns to the operatives, who were still up against the wall, watching him. He walks up to them with the papers in his hand. 

 

The redhead holds them up and says (as calmly as he could muster), “What the hell is this?” 

 

The operatives glanced at each other without saying anything. But the one with the staff speaks up and says, “Figure it out for yourself! We won’t say anything!”

 

“Tch,” Chuuya’s look darkened. But Dazai stepped in, and placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. He gives him a passive look, and decides to take care of them. 

 

He crouches down before the more resilient operative. “Care to explain how the hell you have an entire list of every member of the Port Mafia?” 

 

The blue operative looked like she wanted to spit in his face. “No,” she growled. The green one makes a weak attempt to get off of her coworker, but Dazai stood up and stepped on her back to keep her down. 

 

“We’re not leaving without answers,” he declared, digging his heel in the operative’s vertebrae effectively. She grunts, and especially yelps when something cracks. The one under her looked up at him, “Intimidating us won’t work! We won’t tell!”

 

“I had a broader range of methods in mind,” Dazai took out a gun from his overcoat, “intimidation is a cute start.” 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Chuuya sighs as he flipped through the papers for the second time. He walked over to their desk to straighten the papers, but the pinboard on the wall caught his eyes. 

 

Images containing footage of the Port Mafia members using their abilities, with names stuck to them are tacked on. Small notes about strengths and limitations are stocked on by particular people. There seem to be 3-4 who the Fatui are most interested in. 

 

Dazai Osamu

 

Nakahara Chuuya

 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

 

Yumeno “Q” Kyuusaku

 

Chuuya had a displeased look on his face. “The Fatui has been keeping tabs on us,” he said, taking Q’s picture off the pinboard, turning his attention to the restrained operatives, “just what are you bastards up to?” 

 

“They claim that they won’t spill,” Dazai told him. He sighed, and walked over to his partner. He puts a hand on his shoulder, and whispers in his ear… 

 

… The sword-yielding operative finally pushed her colleague off of her, and sat up to stretch. “Gah! Careful with me!” She hissed at her, and rubbed her lower back, “my tailbone may have snapped!” 

 

“You’ll live,” the other rolled her eyes under her mask, “I doubt it’s worse than who we're working with will give you once we show up empty-handed!” 

 

The other gripped her cane with her other hand. “It only depends, y’know? There’s who we’re cooperating with, and there’s the one we actually work for—” before she could finish, she’s dragged away by Dazai. 

 

The other operative gets dragged by Chuuya as well, but she’s sat at a distance with his hands firmly placed on her shoulders. Meanwhile, her colleague is up against the wall. 

 

“What’s this about working for two people?” Dazai asked the one with the staff. 

 

“… We won’t say,” she reiterated. She’s scowling, but her bird-resembling mask is covering it. 

 

Dazai hummed, and kicked her staff off into the corner. The operative’s eyes followed it, but Dazai grabbed her chin to face him. With the same hand, he slips her mask right off. 

 

“Wh-hey!” 

 

Dazai doesn’t respond to her, but rather, he pulls out a switchblade. “You won’t say, huh?” His look darkened. 

 

“ You might want to see this ,” Chuuya whispered dangerously to the other operative he’s got in his hands. He slipped her fox-resembling mask off as well. 

 

Dazai crouches down to look his target in the eye. “You’re gonna really wish you said something. Unless, of course, I happen to change your mind…” 

 

The operative watches as he gently and meticulously runs his finger over the switchblade. Her eyes are wide, but she still keeps to herself. 

 

… His gaze shifted to her. 

 

He grabbed her arm by the bicep, and pushed up her rolled sleeve. “That option’s always open,” he deadpanned in a low tone, before dragging the point of the blade across her upper arm where the sleeve sat. 

 

The operative fiercely grunted. “Y-You think this is gonna work?” She glared at him. 

 

Dazai makes another cut closely underneath the first one. “Only after long enough,” he simply says. 

 

The operative’s breathing is controlled, and her eyes are sharp. “Us Fatui are experienced in doing worse, I’ll have you know,” she growls as he makes another cut, “y-you’re just lucky you didn’t find a Harbinger down here with us!” 

 

“… A-Aimée,” the operative who’s made to watch murmured. 

 

“Is that how it is?” Dazai makes his fifth slice, “normally, at the mafia, we’re more formal about it when it comes to higher-ranking people. I doubt it would’ve been the same case if you ran into our people.”

 

”O-Only if we were instructed” The tortured operator claimed, “it’s the Harbingers who get to do whatever they want!” 

 

Dazai hummed (rather uninterestedly), making his eighth cut. “I don’t suppose you hold any kind of resentment towards your boss? Or, whoever you’re working with in this case…”

 

“… Just the one of them,” the watching operative muttered as she looked down at her lap. 

 

“… Juliette- ngh! ” Dazai made a particularly not-so-gentle slice. “Let’s stay on topic,” he said. 

 

“Who do you work for?” Chuuya asked Aimée. 

 

“Do I need to keep repeATING MYSELF—?!” She shrieked as Dazai was becoming less gentle. He was on his eleventh cut by this point, but only half-way down her upper arm. 

 

Chuuya held Juliette’s chin up to keep her focus on the scene. 

 

Aimée was beginning to pant (or at least reveal struggle outwardly). Her colleague squirms, but she’s forced to watch. 

 

“I can do this all day,” Dazai tells her, “and since you think you can too, then maybe that’s what’s gonna happen.” 

 

~~~

 

It’s been two hours — Aimée was lacerated from her shoulders to her palms, and from her armpits to her hips. She’s struggling to breathe, or even sit upright, so Dazai has her by the neck to keep her still. 

 

Juliette’s been flinching at every shriek and squeal that her colleague made. It was getting nauseating to watch her begin to get woozy from blood loss. 

 

“Believe it or not, you’re doing a good job so far,” Dazai said to Aimée, “I’m impressed — the Fatui don’t seem to fail in training. It’s unfortunate your superiors overlook the more… resilient and devoted side of their lackeys.” 

 

Juliette mentally debated his point, as she was contemplating something that would for sure get her killed (but not by Double Black). 

 

“ Um ,” she wavered. 

 

Dazai pretends he doesn’t notice and chooses to focus on Aimée for this to work. “I think I’ve spent enough time on you though,” he held his knife up to her throat, “before I let you off for good, do you have anything that defies my verdict?” 

 

Nobody says anything for a short moment. 

 

Dazai took that as a sign to finally kill the operative. 

 

The point of his knife slowly seeped into Aimée’s neck. 

 

“…  O-Our boss,” Juliette spoke up, “she… she’s working with another Harbinger, and he stuck us down here to review the file…”

 

… Dazai turns his head to her. He hummed thoughtfully, mulling this over for a second, before retreating his switchblade. He stands up, and walks over to Juliette. 

 

“About the file,” He started, looking down at her with his arms crossed, “how did you obtain it?” 

 

“The Doctor,” she looked up at him (which wasn’t easy, mentally speaking), “h-he sent us here to pick up and review the file from a foreign organization that’s sponsoring one of his projects…”

 

Dazai and Chuuya glanced at each other. Dazai looks back at her and asks, “what’s the organization?” 

 

“We weren’t given that much information,” she admitted, “same deal about the project… a-all he wanted from us was that file, is all…”

 

“… I see,” Dazai simply said. 

 

… He then proceeded to chuck his switchblade at Aimée’s head, right between her eyes. 

 

“Wha—A-AIMÉE!!” Was the last thing that left Juliette’s mouth, before Chuuya slit her throat with his own blade. 

 

“Well, we have something to look into,” Chuuya says, as he released Juliette’s lifeless body and goes to retrieve the file on the desk. He comes back to Dazai, “What’re you doing?” 

 

Dazai flicks a little card onto the ground, near Juliette’s body. “Leaving a parting gift,” he mumbles. He walks out. 

 

Chuuya’s eyes linger on him, then glanced down at the business card his partner left behind. He rolled his eyes, before ultimately following him out.

 

Behind them was a view of carnage, with one Fatui Operative dead inside due to her throat slit, and the other was skinned alive to death. She couldn't see even in death.

 

Near the dead Operatives’ bodies, there was a black card, sleek silver letters printed on the business card. There, it states in big font:

 

Port Mafia, Yokohama City

Chapter 5: Doctor's Note

Dazai and Chuuya walk off of the research institute of kinetic energy engineering campus with Verlaine, after having obtained their file. 

 

The Fatui Skirmishers Verlaine took out could be seen, grouped together and resting up against the wall of the abandoned building. For a good measure, as he walked behind the two men with the file, Verlaine took a quick glance at them to make sure they stayed down. 

 

At a distance, a figure with sharp, prying eyes, slipped out of the same abandoned building from a tear at a different angle in the same building. 

 

Throughout the grove surrounding the long forgotten institution, he does not struggle to find his way around. He tipped his kasa hat in all the right angles to avoid surprise branches, and eventually found a steady path out of the area. 

 

The little stray man wanders along the outskirts of town. The lush life around him gradually declines, the more he finds himself seeping into the suburban streets. Upon entering a cottage, a friendly sparrow trailed from behind. 

 

“Tch,” he gently waved the bird off, irritated by its tune. He moved on to descend into the modest neighborhood to abrasively thwack his knuckles against the door of the most isolated apartment. 

 

Raspy grumbling could be heard from the other side of the door. Finally, with a turn of the bronze doorknob, his coworker stood, mildly peeved. 

 

“Must you announce yourself so imprudently every time you get called back?” Dottore asked him, “working with you isn’t exactly a convenience to me either.” 

 

Scaramouche pushed past his coworker, shoved the business card to his hands, “Shut up. I’m here to report.” 

 

Dottore eyes him from over his shoulder, as he slammed the door shut. He followed the boy to his inside garden in the kitchen. “Ah yes, straight to the point,” he remarked with a marginally pleased tone, “just like I taught you.” 

 

Scaramouche doesn’t say anything. But Dottore was already immune to his attitude that mirrored his own. “What was the end result?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“Your target has destroyed the Prototype Breguet,” Scaramouche said, as he watered his anemones. “Oh, and he and his partner also killed the Knave’s subordinates, and took the file.” 

 

The Doctor sighed through his nose. “I’d prefer we had a different way to alert that woman,” he admitted, “just reporting the casualties would’ve been enough. But, I suppose I can tell her that the star of my experiment has finally made it.” 

 

Scaramouche glances at him. “… Why didn’t you already alert her when he first arrived?” 

 

“Because then it wasn’t necessary,” he justified, “and besides, it didn’t get that serious up until this point, as you’ve stated. Her women are already killed, so as a partner for the time being, I’ll need to rely on her for offense.” 

 

“… To be honest, I thought you’d let her figure that out for herself,” the younger man tells him, “she catches on quick, and it would’ve left you more time to plan things out to their fullest extent.” 

 

“Yes,” Dottore admitted, “but I am already assured. I merely have no need for more time — the only thing I need to focus on, up until the grand finale finally arrives, is you .”

 

… The Balladeer sets down his watering can. He doesn’t look behind him just yet, but as he’s facing his flowers, he seems brooding. Knowing that this moment will drag itself out the longer he stays quiet, he finally faces Dottore with sharp eyes. 

 

“What are you even going to do with me?” the boy questioned him, “you’re using recycle against a real god.” 

 

The Doctor only grinned creepily at him. “I’ve decided I have a better position for you,” he tells him, “soon, boy, is when I can get you physically involved.” 

 

Scaramouche kept looking at him with that same look. A tight, dirty look. 

 

“Fine, have it your way. Now fuck off and leave me alone for now.” He crossed his arms, before returning to his watering work.

 

Dottore let out a long, frustrated sigh, gladly going back upstairs. He discarded his mask, tossing it upon his desk the moment his bedroom door was closed. 

 

The curtains were always drawn, which drew children away from the small house. That’s exactly what he wanted — to work in complete obscurity. He sat down at his desk (on the left from the view at the doorway), and leaned back in his chair and sighed. 

 

He drags his phone off his desk, and taps his coworker’s contact. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand as her number rang for a good, small moment, before she picked up. 

 

“You better have a good reason for this,” Arlecchino grumbles from the other end of the line. 

 

Dottore inhaled, and sat up, “Good evening, Knave. I have… less than favorable results.”

 

“…”

 

“Two of your Operatives were reported killed in one of my experimental fields,” he stated, “they had failed to deliver me a special import.” 

 

Arlecchino sighed. “I see,” she replied, “I’ll call in some men to fetch the bodies, if there are no public reports on them yet.” 

 

“They very well could get picked up by investigators,” Dottore said, “or worse — the Spina di Rosula could get their eyes on them…” 

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Arlecchino hummed, “they’re fast… but that also depends on how recent this all was. When exactly were you reported back to?” 

 

“As early as,” the Doctor checks his watch, “ten minutes ago.” 

 

“I see…”

 

“However… My men found something that told us who the culprits were… And I don’t think you would like to hear this…” 

 

“Make it quick and tell me who they were,” the Knave began to get impatient. 

 

“The murder of your subordinates was not an isolated incident,” The Doctor said calmly, with a cold, dead expression on his face, “The culprits who brutally tortured, and then killed your subordinates were from the Port Mafia . They have arrived here.”

 

Silence fills the room, and he could only imagine Arlecchino’s expression turning dark at his words. “And this thing they found confirmed it was them?”

 

“It was a business card.” Dottore held the bloody business card up, eyes twitching in slight annoyance at the words “Port Mafia, Yokohama City” written on it.

 

Arlecchino doesn’t say anything for another small moment. “So be it,” she bitterly murmured. 

 

Dottore tossed the card onto his desk. “This is the stage where we shift into lurking behind the scenes,” he leaned forward, “I would like to avoid having any premature confrontations interrupt the process of the project.” 

 

“If that is how you wish to operate, go ahead,” Arlecchino told him, “I think I’ll follow suit. The twins and Freminet are less likely to be expected to be associated with us, so they may continue to live life here as normal.” 

 

“I wouldn’t get confident, but that is true,” Dottore remarked. 

 

The Knave rolled her eyes from the other end. “I’m not, actually — I only have faith in my children,” she says, “you’re the one who always manages to leave a mess wherever you go.” 

 

“Yes, but at least give me credit for actually considering,” Dottore retorted, “the Port Mafia is the Tsaritsa’s #1 enemy, therefore a major threat to us .” 

 

“I suppose you have a point,” Arlecchino replied. “If that’s all you have to say, I will be going now.” 

 

“Keep a close eye on your children,” Dottore lightly jeered; his face dropped as he ended the call. He set his phone down near the bloody business card, and leaned back in his chair again. 

 

“How will I be able to get past… the other one ?” He gazes up at the ceiling, mumbling to himself, “I should’ve made a way for him to be sent alone. Now with the Demon Prodigy trailing after him, this is going to have to take more effort…”

 

He dragged his laptop forward to check his emails. There’s nothing more from his boss or coworkers, and nothing coming from the foreign organization he’s acquainted with. 

 

He frowned as he began to think about all that’s led up to this moment, “ That damn cunning doctor... He should’ve prioritized his executives correctly… that way I would be fully capable of pulling this off. But, it’s no matter. All I have to do, is either separate them, or obtain both of them .”

 

“ Your mafia may be fierce, Mori Ougai , but brazenly so — that won’t get you anywhere against the Fatui. Not even your two most valuable Executives known as “The Demon Prodigy” or “Port Mafia’s Wrath” can escape us,” he smirked to himself, “I’ll see to it that when you finally crack, and get forced to lend the boy and the demon your entire mafia, and I’ll make sure to be there with a smile on my face, as I watch you get publicly executed. ” 

 

He stood up from his chair with his hands behind his back, feeling a giddy rush through his veins by just imagining Mori’s demise. “ The Port Mafia will be jeopardized, and by that time, I’ll find my way into Japan. I will make my return to Yokohama, taking back the position I deserved to inherit… but, with my current project falling in order, I’ll need that to progress towards what I really want…”

 

He paces back and forth. 

 

“ All I have to do first, is start out small, modest. I’ve already been advancing forward when you threw your chess pieces straight at me; with them… I have complete control of the board. ”

 

~~~

 

Mori sifts through a 35-page thick packet of paperwork, meticulously eyeing each line back and forth as he reads down the papers. As he gets through about a 12th of the packet, he writes down a signature on the bottom of the page. 

 

He sorts himself through the rest of the packet, as his little ability keeps herself busy in the corner. On one of the chairs in the middle of his long office, across Elise sat a sheep plush. She takes a sip of some apple juice in a traditional Japanese tea cup she’s likely stolen from Kouyou, and pushes the sheep’s cup towards it. 

 

Mori’s focus started to deter the more he read over the same document page; his mind was becoming unable to comprehend a certain paragraph, so he figured he’s likely tired. He sets the packet, and his pen down with a concentrated sigh, but gets startled by his phone ringing. Elise gave him a look from across the room because of it.

 

“ Grown ass man ,” she gossiped to the plushie across her. Mori sheepishly smiled at her, as he finally picked his phone up — it was Dazai.

 

“Yes, Dazai-kun?” he answered as he fixed his posture. 

 

“Mori-san,” Dazai said, “we have confirmed evidence that the Fatui are up to something here.”

 

Mori smirked. “I see… let’s hear it.” 

 

“On the first location we were given, we discovered an underground bunker where the Fatui contained an entire file of documents with information about specific members of the mafia,” Dazai shared, “on the list was I, Chuuya, Akutagawa and Q.” 

 

“How specific,” Mori commented. He can’t seem to think of a logical outcome of such a combination, at least as far as how their abilities worked. “Is there anything else?” 

 

“Yes,” Dazai said, “the two Harbingers that were detected seem to be working together; one of them had ordered the subordinate Fatui members to bring them the file. It was also said to have come from a foreign organization.” 

 

Mori hummed, pensively. “Well, this has been an insightful report,” he said, “I look forward to what you have to share in the future.” 

 

Mori ended the call, and stored his phone back into his pocket. He rested his elbows upon his desk, as his hands joined together to make that signature position he held. He stared at nothing in the distance as he began to think a lot deeper, no matter if his mind seemed to waver from physical fatigue. 

 

He exhaled. “ Really, Zandik Qadir? ” He thought, “ you and your documents. I see you’ve put a halt on getting things for yourself. But aside from that, it seems your wit has sharpened, since the last I’ve ever heard of you. ” 

 

The man kept pondering with a grim smile, “ The Fatui’s governmental influence and power has granted you many opportunities , and that’s still who you are — a clever little opportunist at heart. If the Fatui weren’t a globally-spread disease upon our world, you would’ve perished a lot earlier to my liking… ”

 

He stood from his chair with the papers in his hands; all it needed was his signature. The rest was an over-explanation as to why, buttering him up to get him to agree. 

 

“ My men shall take advantage of this trait, and exploit it greatly. They’ll be bringing your brain back as a trophy, and I shall keep it in a jar on my desk as a souvenir. Or, no, better yet: the nightstand of the old boss’s bedroom. That way, he may see I made the right call when I took his life — that you were no match against me. ” 

 

He flipped the pages to where they were in consecutive order, tapping the bottom on his desk for good measure. 

 

“ Especially not in this trivial little chess match you think you’ve instigated. You have no idea what you had just started between us. My men and their mission are my pieces, and Fontaine is my chess board. ” 

 

Mori pressed a button on his telephone to signal someone to pick up the packet (and possibly deliver it back). 

“ Have it your way, Dottore. The game between us has officially begun. ” 

Chapter 6: Dead Men

Verlaine took Dazai and Chuuya down a thin path; it wasn’t too far from the rest of Fontaine, but it didn’t look too travelled upon. 

 

“This isn’t the way back to the hotel,” Chuuya said. He looked around, staring back at more greenery the more they walked. 

 

“Remember how I mentioned that I knew a place?” Verlaine told him, “I’m showing you the way. To be fair, I haven’t been there in years, so it may look rough.” 

 

Dazai rereads the information about the Port Mafia members in silence. “ Why would they pick apart specifically Akutagawa and Q from the rest of us? ” he thought, “ Akutagawa still has a way to go in order to reach full potential with his ability, and Q should be difficult to obtain… ” 

 

Eventually, a small house turns up at the end of their path. It sits comfortably in the tall grass that surrounds it, eager to hide it since the moment of its abandonment. The three men push through the overgrown front yard, as they make their way to the front door. 

 

Verlaine takes out a rusty key from his pocket, and puts in effort in unlocking the door. When he does, he has to drive his shoulder into it the same time he was turning the knob for it to fully open. On the inside of the apartment, it lived up to the previous resident’s description. 

 

Everything was left still in place, which ended in a natural result of dust collecting. The afternoon sun shone through the window, delivering a peaceful yellow hue to the atmosphere. The shack of a house both looked and smelled old, but was sturdy enough to keep standing. 

 

Verlaine heads off to the kitchen (presumably), which leaves Chuuya and Dazai to explore. Dazai slipped the information back in its file to observe everything around him, straying off into the living room. Chuuya looks at 2-3 pictures that rested on the wall. 

 

Once in particular catches his attention — it’s a framed photo of two people on the beach. One of them is Verlaine, and the other is that Rimbaud man. This almost floored Chuuya, since he never thought the man’s face was relevant enough to show up again. 

 

Dazai stared at everything in the living room already, and made a beeline back to Chuuya. He looks at the same photo his partner is eyeing with an unreadable expression, but he makes sense of the connection between the men. 

 

Verlaine comes back from the kitchen, setting a broom against the wall. “I cleared off the table, and gave it some extra cleaning,” he tells them, “we can take a look at the file there.” 

 

Dazai looked him dead in the eyes for a brief moment as he passed him, and Chuuya finally peeled his eyes off the photo on the wall to follow. The taller man takes a seat, and distributes the contents of the folder onto the table. 

 

Chuuya spaces them out, and picks one up. “They don’t want much, but they seem to find Akutagawa and Q to be the most powerful,” he says. 

 

Dazai looks at the paper about him. “Power does seem to be what they want,” he says, “they’ve always been greedy, but now they want our members?” 

 

“Like hell we’d hand ‘em over!” Chuuya slammed his fist on the table. Verlaine, beside Chuuya, picks up the paper about Q, inspecting it. 

 

“You’d think they’d go after ane-san and Kyoka as well,” he remarked. 

 

“Kyoka’s a little classified,” Dazai said, setting his paper down, “in courtesy of Kouyou, anyway. But, even if she preserves Kyoka, that still leaves her as an open option, and they’re not taking that opportunity…”

 

“Is it because they know the woman could just slaughter her way out?” Chuuya suggested. 

 

“I wouldn’t doubt that, actually,” Dazai said. “But, so could Q and Akutagawa. Regardless, their greed has managed to extend to the mafia, which is something they won’t be able to get away with.” 

 

“Well, we certainly left them a sight to see when they tried,” Chuuya said, setting down the paper on Akutagawa. “All we can expect is for them to receive the message. They were working for a Harbinger, right?”

 

Verlaine interjects, “It would be wise if this stayed between the organizations. The Operatives, commonly in the inferior faction of the Fatui, are affiliated with the fourth of the Harbingers. With a number that high up — as well as a potentially higher-ranked Harbinger who seemed to be working together — we’re in for some nasty retaliation.” 

 

“You are correct,” Dazai says, standing up, “it just might escalate from being a simple undercover mission, to another feud between us, and the Fatui. Right about now, it’s a matter of when the exposition to this potential feud will take place.” 

 

~~~

 

Two days later…

 

A petite, Fontainian civilian, clad in a baby pink, Lolita-style coat, strides down a meadowy path; there hasn’t been a solid case to work on in a while, so getting out like this was nice to her. 

 

She treads gently down into a grove, letting her peripheral take notes on her surroundings. The scenery on the path was innocent enough, a perfect deception for what’s about to meet her up ahead. 

 

Upon entering the research institute campus, she first decides to peek from behind a bush near a worn and torn building; contrary to the report she received, there doesn’t seem to be any Fatui agents lurking around. 

 

From what the woman is able to deduce, judging by how the reported appearances have been timed, the possible scenarios are either that they’re using the abandoned institution for a small, secret base, or that they’re looking for something they want. 

 

Very carefully, she makes her way to the torn-down entrance of what used to be the assembly hall. She peers inside to make sure it’s safe, before advancing towards the center. From the inside, the already abandoned building looks rough, with a few missing, or broken off pieces of structure. 

 

The large scratches amongst the walls and floor give her signs of an event that must’ve gone down here before. “Was it Fatui activity?” she thought to herself, “their presence may be hard to ignore, but criminal activity does not fly under Fontaine’s radar…”

 

She glanced at the base level, searching for something that could give away more evidence, already taking note of the remains of the obliterated prototype scattered across the scene. “No doubt there’s been recent activity here… not only does this building look to be in more terrible shape than on the outside, but there’s an entire destroyed and dismantled machine lying about.”

 

She walks over to a bronze, head-sized bolt, getting down on one knee for a better look. She picks it up, with some effort. “These parts have an intricate, and classy design. I could argue that they’re foreign, but that would disservice manufactures from France, or especially Fontaine’s port trade.”

 

She set the bolt down, and stood up again. She takes another good look around the radius within the building, until her eye catches onto something. It was hidden underneath a cog-esque ringlet near the back wall. 

 

She walked over to it, and gently nudged the cog out of the way. “Ah, a hatch — of course.”

 

She descends into the secret understructure, leisurely observing the minimal windows that allow the ocean to give the passage light. Upon approaching the door, she secured the strap of the bag that held her camera beforehand. 

 

When she finally opened the door, she was met with an eerie sight. There were indeed Fatui agents present, but none were alive. 

 

The room seemed to have been hollowed out of anything that could tell the woman that they were working on something. But, the agents that were suspected of revisiting the area periodically were decent enough to apply cloaks over their coworkers. 

 

She snaps three shots — one of the view she had from the door, one of the one in the middle of the room, and one of the one up against the wall. 

 

She walks over to the agent on the ground, and gently lifts the white cloak for a photo of the body underneath. It was an Operative, who’s throat was slit. The woman takes a shot. 

 

She scuttled over to the body against the wall, and carefully tugged their white cloak down, only to be met with a gruesome sight. It was another Operative, but she was deeply lacerated on her arms and torso. On top of that, a couple pieces of skin on her wrists were additionally missing, and her eyes were slit. 

 

The investigator forced her finger to push down on the camera button to capture evidence. She managed to recover, and re-veils the tortured Operative. 

 

She stands up to take a step back from the body. She takes out her phone, and dials her boss’s number. 

 

“Ms. Caspar,” she says, “I can officially confirm that there’s been some Fatui activity, but…”

 

~~~

 

“Seriously?” Navia said, “Well, it was certainly worth a shot. Thank you, Veroníque. Can you provide evidence?” 

 

“Yes ma’am,” Veroníque confirmed. “I’ll head back soon.” 

 

“Take care, Veroníque,” Navia said, shortly before hanging up. She turns to Clorinde, and says, “sorry about that — one of our current investigations has made a big advance.” 

 

Clorinde looks up from the small school girl she was managing. “Oh, nice,” she mumbled. “I’ll have to get her back to Wriothesley in a minute, but if there are more reports of Fatui activity and affairs, let me know.” 

 

“I wouldn’t go overboard just yet,” Navia slips her phone into her purse, “we’ll still need info on just what they’re working on. In fact, for something as serious as the Fatui lurking around Fontaine with an ulterior motive, I should make an appearance at the scene…” 

 

“Let me come with,” Clorinde stood up straight, but still regarded Sigewinne by the hand. “You can work, and I can handle work on the outside.” 

 

“Hopefully you won’t have any by the time we get there,” Navia says, and looks at Sigewinne, “do you mind if she tags along, for support?” 

 

“I…” Clorinde looks down at the girl with pastel twin tails, “… if it’s for support, the decision seems plausible enough. Let’s head out.” 

 

The three ladies make their trip down the ruins of what once was a research institution. Sigewinne looked around with wide, curious eyes, as she followed the two women in front of her. 

 

On the way to the designated spot, Veroníque passes by the women. Navia walks up to her and says, “Ah, Veroníque! I’m glad we bumped into you — do you have your evidence?” 

 

“Yes ma’am,” Veroníque chirped, “I have to admit — what I found was pretty shocking, but it didn’t necessarily point towards anything the Fatui could potentially be working on…”

 

“What do you mean?” Navia asked. 

 

“What I mean is, the room I found them in already seemed to be cleared out, except for…”

 

Veroníque reluctantly handed Navia the photos. “They’ll take a bit to develop,” she told her, “but that’s all you need to see.” 

 

Navia takes the photos. She takes one, shaking it individually, and when the image comes in, she reviews it. The first one was the photo of the whole room, including the covered bodies. 

 

Navia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Just what did they do?” she thought. She shook the second photo, to be met with a shot of a woman’s throat slit. 

 

What really shocked the leader, was the final photo — of the mutilated Operative. 

 

“ T-This is what you found?!” Navia turned to Veroníque, “this is horrifying!” 

 

Veroníque shrugged. “I’m afraid so,” she said, “everything was exactly like that when I got there.” 

 

Clorinde takes the photos to see them for herself, and her expression sharpens. “But… this clearly looks like it happened to the Fatui,” she said, “this has to be someone else’s doing.” 

 

“You have a point,” Navia breathed smoothly, “we’ll need to get to the bottom of it. But, who would be able to engage in such violent action against the Fatui? For as big as they are, this shouldn’t be an isolated incident… and this means bad news for France, as long as they have a spot in its government…”

 

“That’s still a work in progress,” Clorinde reminded her, “Lady Focalors hasn’t made an official decision on that offer.” 

 

“Regardless,” Navia pulled her phone out of her purse, “I’ll need to contact her about this. Veroníque, thank you for your work. Forgive me, but our investigation will be handed to a higher authority.” 

 

~~~

 

The Prime Minister of France delicately sits at her desk, sifting through all records accessible and available on a particular person of interest. 

 

Lady Focalors has been at it, assorting different documented ‘incidents,’ and clicking through different tabs on her dual monitors. In order, she’s been linking up (and rearranging) filed reports on the deaths of public officials, affiliations and the histories of said affiliates, as well as video evidence to back it up; all for one man. 

 

Her office phone went off, which startled her. She gently set down a packet document she was looking through, and picked it up. “Lady Focalors is speaking.” 

 

“My Lady,” Navia spoke, “the Spina di Rosula has a request for an official investigation.” 

 

The Prime Minister perks up. “I see,” she cooly says, “please, elaborate.” 

 

Navia continues, “My private investigator was sent to an old research institution that’s been out of commission for about a couple of decades, due to civilians reporting the sight of Fatui agents visiting the general area of the campus. She returned with gruesome evidence, but that doesn’t necessarily confirm that the Fatui in particular are plotting anything.” 

 

“Go on,” Lady Focalors encouraged with interest. 

 

“Based on what she’s shared, we’ve concluded that this was something that’s happened against the Fatui,” she said, “the autopsy reports from Sigewinne have confirmed this. We’re suspecting there’s a potential rival lurking in town.” 

 

Focalors looked down at her desk, at all of her carefully obtained official documents. “… Send me the autopsy reports, as well as the evidence of the scene,” she tells Navia, “I accept your request.” 

 

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Navia says, “I’ll have everything converted into an email; you’ll get it as soon as possible.” 

 

She hangs up. Focalors sets her office phone down, and takes three papers out from the very bottom of the mess on her desk — profiles on her target, his partner in crime, and a list of members of their affiliation. She takes a look at the first one. 

 

~~~

 

Members of the Transcendents

 

 

• Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

• Victor Hugo

• William Shakespeare

• Arthur Rimbaud

• Paul Verlaine

 

 

~~~

 

Focalors then takes a look at the other two, individually. 

 

~~~

 

Arthur Rimbaud

 

Alias: N/A

 

Affiliation: Transcendents

 

Occupation: Spy/Assassin

 

Colleague: Paul Verlaine

 

Status: Inactive (confirmed deceased)

 

~~~

 

Paul Verlaine

 

Alias: King of Assassins

 

Affiliation: Transcendents

 

Occupation: Spy/Assassin

 

Colleague: Arthur Rimbaud

 

Status: Inactive (presumed deceased)

 

~~~

 

The Prime Minister focuses back on her monitors, and pulls up a tab of an incident as recent as 7 years ago (with another tab, Google Translate, on standby). It’s a report on a very modest Japanese website, where she can find confirmation on the death of Rimbaud. 

 

As she skims through it, she finds that the man was killed in a warehouse in a city in Japan named Yokohama. She turns to another document on him that lays on her desk, about his history of crimes and assassinations. 

 

The most prominent figure that stuck through the history was obviously his partner, Paul Verlaine. She rearranges a paper on his crime history back to the surface, placing it side by side next to his partner’s on top of their affiliation profiles. 

 

Verlaine too, made an appearance in Yokohama. In fact, both of the men were, in order to get to the bottom of a top secret Japanese military project:

 

The Arahabaki project.

 

Unfortunately, Focalors hasn’t been able to find anything that goes beyond that — before Navia’s call, at least. The project was even more secretive than the men’s disappearances, and that was frustrating, because it was the last time the main source that had the most information on the two men — the Transcendents — had ever heard of them. 

 

Focalors sighs, and leans back in her chair. But, not for long, because her computer notifies that she’s finally received the email from the Spina di Rosula. She perked up, and instantly opened it. 

 

Within a second, she already wishes she prepared herself beforehand. 

 

“Goodness me,” she muttered. She opens a tab to review Sigewinne’s autopsy report, which, for two people, was 6 pages. 5 of them were for the skinned one. 

 

“So these kills are recent,” she commented as she observed, “This was done with real effort…” 

 

She switches back to the email tab. She rereads a certain portion of Navia’s email, where the other girl suggests that this was likely done by an equally dangerous group. 

 

“I should contact Palais Mermonia for the possible fingerprints we can find at the scene,” she thinks. “Whoever did this must be very skillful, like an assassin… Unless…”

 

“That man,” she recalled. He matched the pictures on his profile — blond, blue-eyed, and Caucasian with the same hat. She figures she'd need to find a connection between him, and the Spina di Rosula’s investigation. 

 

“His reappearance can’t be a coincidence…”

 

The Prime Minister closes out the Spina’s email to create one of her own, forwarding Navia’s evidence with her own message — to the Chief Justice. 

 

Iudex Neuvillette of Fontaine, 

 

It was brought to my attention by the Spina di Rosula that crimes have been committed against the faction of Fatui that operate in Fontaine. The evidence provided to me is great confirmation over this claim. 

 

The autopsy report suggests fingerprints, in which I ask permission to obtain them. It is a great detail to a current investigation of my own, that I was privately looking into. 

 

⤷<<Forwarded>> Navia Caspar: Investigation Request

 

Sincerely, 

 

Prime Minister of France, Focalors de Fontaine

Chapter 7: The Taste of Surprise

Tonight is the night that the audience of the Opera Epiclese are truly in for a treat. 

 

That’s what Lyney says every night before their show. Oddly enough, Lynette has yet to tire out of hearing it every time. 

 

After another week of promoting their show (with the help of Freminet keeping it going, passing out extra flyers at the entrance of the Opera House), Lyney and Lynette prepare backstage for another fantastic show. 

 

The time for Freminet to help them was nearing. He peeks inside the Opera House, seeking to see the guests who had flyers. Once he feels as though his handout job is done, he turns back around — only to be met with one final attendant. 

 

At first, she almost stepped back, almost in regret for showing up. But, she made herself speak up. “Um… excuse me,” she mumbles to Freminet, “may I see one of those?” 

 

Freminet looks down to the last few extra flyers he ended up with. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled back, as he handed one to her, “enjoy the show.” 

 

She adjusted her shawl and glasses as she stepped into the impressive architecture of the Opera House. The interior design was structured like any other upper-class theater, besides its uniquely larger stage, where Fontaine’s most popular attraction is built right in the middle — The Oratrice Mécanique d’Analyse Cardinale. 

 

The lady glanced at her seating ticket, and then tried to look for which seat it got her. It’s hard to tell, since it seems that tonight, the Opera House is packed. This is… the direct opposite of what she’s comfortable with. 

 

But she wanted to come here — the least she can do is suck it up. She was lucky enough to end up in a seat that was in a corner. She walks behind the guests at the very top row of the House, reaching the end of it before she takes her seat. 

 

She tugs at her shawl, and takes a deep breath. She was glad she didn’t take the booth seats, due to her fear of heights. She adjusted her glasses, and took a look at the flyer down in her lap. 

 

The magician twins were in the center of it. The title read: 

 

Fontaine’s Renowned Performers: On Stage this Saturday Night! 

 

⟡8:00 PM ~ 10:00 PM⟡

 

She takes her time to observe it, to pass the short time before the show is about to begin. 

 

From up above, in one of the booth seats, sit two men; the tall one was slouching against the wood that guards the higher seats. He peered down to the flyer the lady is holding to remind himself why his ‘fíance’ considered coming here tonight. His ‘fíance’ , the shorter one, is becoming increasingly irritated by his partner’s impatience.

 

“ Shuuji ,” Felix Verlaine crooned through gritted teeth, “I would appreciate it if you at least tried to act your age, y’know?” He gripped the back of his ‘ fíance’s’ shirt collar, dragging him back. 

 

“But Felix~!” Tsushima Shuuji whined, “I’m bored… I would rather sit around and do nothing at the hotel, rather than a loud, crowded theater…” 

 

“You can quietly mope right here,” Felix dropped his ‘fíance’ into his seat, next to his. “Try and fall asleep if you have to.” 

 

“ C’monnnn , you know how hard it is for me to fall asleep unless it’s pitch black!” Shuuji kept complaining. His hand comes up to Felix’s sleeve to tug on it a little, “how inconsiderate~!” 

 

Felix was on the brink of seething already. “What are you, a damn bird?!” he hissed at his partner. “Listen, when the show’s over, we can pull the sheets over your head when we go to sleep, but for now, just sit still.”

 

Shuuji, upsettingly sighs, leaning against his ‘fíance.’ He brings his other hand up to Felix’s vibrant orange ponytail, bringing it over the other shoulder towards himself to swirl it against his finger. He’s already beginning to daydream about crawling into bed… 

 

The golden lights on the walls of the theater abruptly dimmed, bringing the volume of the audience’s chattering down. The general consensus was that the show was about to begin. 

 

Lyney was taking a look at the audience, at an angle behind the left side stage curtain. He was meticulously, and single handedly shifting his deck of cards behind his back. When his cue came, he took the first steps out onto the stage. 

 

“Ladies, and gentlemen!” he announced, raising his top hat; he swerved it to his waist as he bowed, “thank you all for attending the Opera Epiclese on this special night!” 

 

He straightened his posture, and continued, “You’re all lucky to be tuned in — my assistant, Lynette, and I, have prepared an extra special performance!” 

 

Lyney received a generous applause from the audience. His cat eyes dart over to his twin sister, and he signals for her to join him. 

 

Lynette steps onto the stage to her brother, giving the audience a light bow, and a small, “Good evening, everyone.” She is granted the same applause as him. 

 

Her tail swished with less enthusiasm, and her ears were downturned. Lyney giggled, “Don’t mind her low energy — she’s just nervous!” 

 

Shuuji clicked his tongue. 

 

Lyney continued, “Alright, I’m sending her off so she can manage just the last few preparations. While she’s doing that — we shall begin the show!” 

 

Lynette steps away from the audience’s view, while Lyney moves to the center. 

 

“Don’t miss her already,” the boy began, “she’ll be coming right back! Maybe not even in a way you’d expect, but who knows? You never know what can happen in the blink of an eye.” 

 

He angled his top hat so that the audience could see its contents — nothing. “Magicians tend to make things disappear and reappear,” he says, flipping his hat right side up, “you could argue it’s their greatest skill.” 

 

“The possibilities,” he holds his hat up; as he lets go, it sits in the air, still in place, “are endless.” 

 

This gets him some small fawning from the audience, as well as some mild applause. Lyney moves on, tapping on the top of his hat. A few cards spill out. As the audience gradually began to grow more interested, the magician kept up with tapping the top hat. More cards would trickle out from the hat, onto the floor of the stage. 

 

After he’s decided enough has made it out, Lyney takes a grip on his top hat again. With a twirl of his wrist, it finds itself back onto the magician’s head again, as a dove comes flying out; the audience’s ambiance continues to grow. 

 

Lyney whips out some cards in one hand, and flicks them off to the side. He repeated this with his other hand, stepping closer to the edge of the stage. “But this isn’t what you tuned in for tonight.” 

 

“You’ve seen these measly little tricks before. Don’t you think, it’s time you see something that makes you question what’s possible or impossible?” 

 

Lyney clams his hands shut in front of him. “Let me see,” he muttered. He extended his arms a little bit further; when he finally opened his hands, another dove flew out. It soars upwards, and as the audience’s eyes are on it, a stage light is flickered on to reveal a hanging water tank, with Lynette sitting on the edge of it, waving at the crowd. 

 

“Using this tank,” Lyney announced to the awestruck audience, “my sister shall disappear completely! Right before your very eyes!” 

 

The Prime Minister, in the highest seat in the theater room, rested her chin in the palm of her hand with mild intrigue. Her bodyguard, Clorinde, assisted her by standing by, on guard. 

 

Felix kept letting Shuuji lean on him, since he’s been quiet for the time being. He’s at least paying attention to the recommended show. 

 

Lynette slips into the water tank, keeping herself afloat in the water. The tank gets lowered closer to the stage, and Lyney walks up to it. He says, “It’s quite simple, actually. All she’ll do, is turn into bubbles, and float up to the top!” 

 

The hatch to the water tank snapped shut. Lynette’s gaze shot up to the top that was now closed; she floated up, and attempted to push the hatch open. Lyney stepped closer to the tank. 

 

“Oh no,” he said, “I thought all the props were checked carefully! Without being able to swim up to the top… the air won’t even be able to get out…” 

 

Lyney’s facade of defeat slowly dissipates. “… An amateur magician would be panicking at this moment,” he says, “but luckily — there’s me on the stage! Allow me to show you what a real expert can do to remedy the situation!” 

 

With a snap of his fingers, Lynette successfully vanishes inside the tank, leaving only bubbles and her performance outfit. The audience was shocked by this, and paid it another round of applause. The Prime Minister even leaned towards the edge of her seat in awe, watching more closely. 

 

“Are you still there, Lynette?” Lyney calls out, “don’t go off too far, we’ll need to save some magic for the rest of the show!” 

 

“I’m back,” Lynette casually strolled back onto the stage in perfect condition. The audience’s minds are blown, and their applause roars louder at the trick. Lyney motions to his sister, as she calmly takes a bow. 

 

Prime Minister Focalors giggled and clapped with enthusiasm. Shuuji is impressed, and Felix is fascinated. He leans forward with interest, which forces his fíance get off of him and sit up straight. 

 

“Thank you, thank you all,” Lyney says to the audience, “I’m glad you enjoyed it! But, we’re just getting started. I’ve got more surprises in for you all tonight — the magic behind disappearing and transportation go deeper than what meets the eye. I’m sure you found our water tank trick impressive already; but Lynette’s only my assistant.” 

 

He steps closer to the edge of the stage and continues, “So, for my next trick, I’ll be having an audience member help me pull it off!” 

 

Crowd members’ heads turn to look at each other, occasionally glancing back at the magicians on stage. 

 

Lyney mumbled, loud enough for the backstage staff to hear, “Now, if my assistants could bring out the magic boxes?” 

 

“This next one requires two boxes,” he informed the audience, “and only two boxes. One here—” 

 

An assistant finishes pushing a human-sized, wooden box onto the stage, next to Lyney. 

 

“—And one there,” Lyney points to another box that was brought out, on the aisle between the rows of seats. 

 

“I’m sure many of you have already guessed by the appearance of the boxes for what’s next — a swapping trick!” 

 

“Lame,” Shuuji muttered. 

 

“Be quiet!” Felix tapped him. 

 

“The lucky audience member and I will enter one of the boxes. After about a minute, each of us shall emerge from the opposite box! But pay close attention to the box here,” the magician pointed to the one next to him on stage, “don’t even give me time to make a move! Keep your eyes on me.” 

 

Another assistant comes up to Lyney, holding up a bowl with paper scraps to him. “I will be picking a paper with an audience member’s seat number,” he announced, “whoever’s picked will participate in the trick with me!” 

 

The magician calculatively sticks his hand into the bowl, and digs around for a good moment to fish out a surprise seat number. The chatter amongst the audience rises by a decibel as he takes his time. 

 

“Let me see here,” Lyney murmurs to himself, “ah, row seven, seat three! Congratulations!” 

 

The audience applauded the specific crowd member, as the young lady got a stage light shone on her. 

 

Lyney called out to her, “Please, if you would come up on stage, as my assistant will station you next to the box.” 

 

A masked assistant comes up to the girl, and coaxes her to the box in the aisle. 

 

“I apologize if it’s cramped in there,” Lyney says, “but there’s no need to fret — everything is carefully prepared. We’d be sorry excuses for magicians if our props weren’t thoroughly managed.” 

 

The girl helps herself into the box. Lyney continues, “You don’t need to do anything while you’re in there. But no matter what you hear outside of the box, don’t come out. If the magic process is disturbed, who knows where I might accidentally send you? You could very well find yourself in a place such as… such as… oh, I don’t know, the Fortress of Meropide?” 

 

“Okay…?” The audience member mumbled. 

 

The magician claps his hands together. “Alright! A little participation from the audience — would you all mind giving us a countdown? From sixty, preferably, at your own pace. It’s pitch-black inside the box, so our participant and I  are going to rely on your voices to come out.” 

 

Lyney gets himself situated inside his own box, as the assistant helps close it shut. The assistant in the aisle does the same job for the audience member. Lynette steps to the front on the stage, signaling to the audience to count down from sixty exactly. 

 

Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…

 

If Shuuji weren’t already tired, this was already overstimulating. He grounds himself by gripping onto Felix. 

 

Fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five…

 

Felix lets his ‘ fÍance ’ cling to him. He’s been pretty docile so far, and he hopes it can last long enough until the end of the show. 

 

Fifty-four, fifty-three, fifty-two…

 

The girl with the glasses in the row seats couldn’t bring herself to elevate her voice as loud as the audience. She attempted to mouth the numbers, fixing her glasses in order to see if anyone’s watching her. 

 

Fifty-one… fifty! Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven…

 

Shuuji looks around the Opera House theater room — the Prime Minister is gleefully counting down loud enough with the audience. He glances down back at the girl’s lap, remembering that this will all last until 10… 

 

Forty-six, forty-five, forty-four…  

 

“Mr. Lyney!” The assistant on stage whispered to the box, “are you alright in there? Is everything ready?”  

 

“I’m fine, don’t you worry!” Lyney’s muffled voice is heard, “I’m just… let’s just say, focusing on the direction of the magic~!” 

 

Forty-three, forty-two, forty-one… forty! Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven…

 

“I mean, wouldn’t it be a disaster if our guest and I were teleported to the wrong place?” Lyney kept talking. “Imagine if we were sent mid-air!” 

 

Thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four…

 

A thump is heard. 

 

Thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one…

 

“I can still hear you moving in there,” the assistant worriedly says, “are you sure nothing’s wrong?” 

 

“Ah, I may have knocked over a decoration in here by accident,” Lyney told him, “I’m trying to fix it, but it’s too dark in here… hm…”

 

“The show’s more important!” The assistant urged. 

 

“Now that won’t do! Everything needs to be perfect for the audience! Besides, we still have twenty seconds until then.” 

 

Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…

 

“Eheh… okay, it seems like things aren’t working out!” Lyney says, “it doesn’t help that I get the feeling everyone’s beginning to count a little faster… but no worries! Ten seconds is still plenty of time.” 

 

Ten…  

 

“Almost there!” 

 

Nine…

 

Shuuji looks around the room again. 

 

Eight…

 

Someone next to him and his partner leaned forward, expectantly. 

 

Seven…

 

“Whew, swapping two people is harder than one might think! Even a pro like me wouldn’t be able to get it right on the first try.” 

 

Six…

 

The light that shone upon the box in the aisle switches off. 

 

The person next to them caught Shuuji’s attention. He looks at them out of instinct…

 

Five…

 

“Hey, slow down!” Lyney whined, “hm, am I in the right place? I can’t tell, both the boxes look the same on the inside!” 

 

Four…

 

Lyney pops out of the box. “Ah, whoops— t-that doesn’t count!” He hops back in, as his assistant shuts the entrance. 

 

Three…

 

The guest beside Shuuji and Felix squinted meticulously. Shuuji does the same amount of scrutinizing, like they were vaguely familiar. 

 

Two…

 

His eyes widened. 

 

… One. 

 

The light gets switched back on to the aisle box. The Prime Minister rushed herself up off the highest seat in the whole house to see. 

 

The box in the aisle opens… and out comes the renowned magician himself, taking a bow as the crowd goes crazy over the successful act. 

 

Felix hummed in satisfaction, mumbling, “Not bad.” His fíance next to him was suddenly sitting upright, stiffly so. His hand never left his partner’s. 

 

Despite the crowd’s wild, deafening cheers, he still catches Felix’s attention. He leans into the shorter man’s ear, and whispers…

 

“Don’t move.”

 

Felix didn’t have time to react, at least not before the audience member was about to get reintroduced on stage. Lyney motions to the stage box, and a stage light bets shone on it. The audience’s cheer kept up for the lucky participant; the masked assistant walked back backstage. 

 

But before the girl could be seen outside of the box again, the water tank that got hung up after the first trick suddenly plummeted down right onto it. The glass shattered from the impact, and the tank ended up tipping over to land on its side, further crushing the box that was supposed to hold the audience member. 

 

The atmosphere in the auditorium was now full of worry and distress. Crowd members were looking at each other, whispering and panicking. Lyney stood in front of his box, stunned, staring at the mask that streams from the water from the wreckage on stage. 

 

Felix is in an abrupt spot, and almost doesn’t know how to react. He’s just been signaled a warning, yet a catastrophe just unleashed before the audience. He uses only his eyes to observe what’s going on around him; one glance to his partner, and one glance to the person the taller man seemed to be wary of… 

 

Her expression hasn’t changed much after the incident. Her pitch black eyes, and crimson red X-shaped pupils remain sharp on their subject. Her tied, black and white hair is swooped over her shoulder, and her chin rests in her hand as her elbow rests on her crossed leg. Only then, when she turns her head to Lyney, does Felix realize… 

 

There’s a Harbinger sitting right next to them.

Chapter 8: The Call for Azure Justice

The Chief Justice ordered for all the exits to be inaccessible, thus protected by the Gardes, and for all the performers to be detained for the time being. No audience member was allowed to leave the Opera House after the incident. 

 

The audience members, having no other choice, are forced to mingle with each other. The paramedics that the Chief Justice summoned were dealing with him, and the magician twins were being supervised in a different spot in the auditorium. Felix and Shuuji have moved from their booth seat the second the Harbinger that was right next to them had moved near where the twins were being questioned. 

 

Felix was leaned up against the wall, with his arms crossed. “Damned Fatui,” he grumbled, “they’re catching up with us. Y’think she’s the one who orchestrated the whole thing, just to corner us?” 

 

“No,” Shuuji says, “this was an actual accident. She was focused on the magicians for another reason besides anticipating sabotage. Regardless, she didn’t seem to acknowledge that we were right next to her…” 

 

Felix clicked his tongue. “Well, I doubt that she came here for leisure either,” he sharply says, “especially not with people who work for her on the inside. It’s most likely she would have caught wind of what we did to her subordinates, so what if she’s here to start something?” 

 

“The Fatui can only afford to get vindictive to that degree when they’re collecting debt, or when they’re owed something,” Shuuji says, “they’re supposed to be professional above all else. Starting something here , at this time — much less manipulating the whole scenario — is a low probability. Especially since it’s the fourth Harbinger.” 

 

Felix glared in her direction. The fourth, the Knave, or Arlecchino, was lurking at a safe distance from Lyney and Lynette, who were sticking to their defenses against the suspicion from the Gardes. 

 

Shuuji adds, “She’s known for being quite poised and controlled, at the very least besides the mysterious aura that comes with all the other Harbingers. On account of being seen dealing with the Fatui’s public affairs or dirty work, she comes and goes like the wind; an elusive woman.”

 

As Shuuji is talking, Felix sneaks a glance at the Prime Minister chatting with the Chief Justice. Thinking he wouldn’t attend is an oversight and a half, if Verlaine wasn’t mindful of letting them know that this Opera House is Iudex Neuvillette’s territory. Then, there’s Lady Furina. He growls, as he tips his hat. “What a shitty situation…” 

 

“Did you really have to keep your hat?” 

 

“I thought you were too bored and tired to keep talking,” Felix retorted. 

 

“Again, your nerves are all out on display for me to strike them…”

 

“Shut up!” 

 

Shuuji moves off of the theater seat he was leaning against, and stretches his arms. “Anyway, three people in this auditorium are major threats,” he summarizes, “and I’m hungry. Felix~, can you find me something sweet to nibble on?” 

 

Felix grits his teeth for a second, not too hard, before the Iudex, a couple of investigators, and a handful of Gardes escort the star magician to the alleged crime scene. Watching this, Felix murmurs, “What’re we gonna do about them?” 

 

Shuuji looks over at them. “The Knave seems awfully close to them, or is at least trying to be,” he says, “we should watch for a little longer to see if the concern is big enough.” 

 

Two Gardes stand on each side of Lyney, as the Chief Justice presents the situation to him. “Unfortunately, the person who was inside the box is confirmed to be dead,” he says to him, “he was one of your assistants — Cowell. Apparently, the rope that held the water tank was barely holding on, and ended up snapping, which resulted in the fall. As of now, there’s no connection between last seeing the audience member inside the box, and how Cowell ended up there, although the girl is deemed as ‘missing’ for the time being.” 

 

Lyney looks down at nothing, very pensively. He was as shocked as the rest of the audience was when the incident took place, and can already feel the migraine of facing the mechanics of the law in Fontaine racing towards him… not to mention, Father would ultimately have to be notified of the event… (meanwhile, Father’s watching from the front row behind him). 

 

The Iudex continued, “It seems to the investigators that this incident was not an isolated one. Rather, it’s shown a connection to a much larger, problematic case — the series of missing women in the town of Fontaine.” 

 

The star magician winced. The buzzing of the audience’s whispers grew louder, as multiple gossips about the most recent and prominent case of Fontaine ensued. The audience’s reaction to the mention of it piqued the men’s interest; they glanced at each other, before Shuuji walked over behind a guest’s chair. 

 

The girl with the shawl and glasses was sitting right next to the seat the taller man was leaning up against after the rest of the audience shifted spots when the Chief Justice called it quits on the show. She rubs her temple as she sighs, wishing she didn’t have to run into trouble; now she’s really wishing to get back to her work… 

 

She squeaked as Shuuji touched her shoulder. “Excuse me,” he says to her in a suave tone as she readjusts her glasses, “but, my fíance and I aren’t local. Do you mind telling us what exactly the missing women case is here in Fontaine?” 

 

She looks up at him. “Ah, my apologies, but I’m not from here either,” she sheepishly admitted. The man’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he began to pout. 

 

“I see, then,” he says, “thanks for letting me know…” 

 

Shuuji moves on, seeking for an actual Fontainian resident in the audience. By then, he notices that the other twin — the assistant to the star attraction, Lynette — was free to go after the investigation. The aforementioned girl seemed to be lingering around the Harbinger. 

 

“So there is something going on with the Knave and the twins,” he thought, “what about the third one — the diver? Last I saw him, he was giving out those flyers…”

 

Getting to the girl, he thought, wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. He decided it was best to ask a different, more innocent civilian. He goes down by three rows, and settles his sight on an average guy. 

 

“Excuse me,” he said, “but my fíance and I aren’t local to this town. Do you mind filling us in on what this serial disappearances of women in Fontaine is about?” 

 

The other man faced him. “Hm? Oh, of course — the case has been ongoing for a good while now, where multiple young women have been going missing,” he simply explained, “very little is known about the culprit, and there haven’t been any connections between the known victims that suggests a pattern to detectives, but it’s been dangerous out here lately.” 

 

“I see,” Shuuji responds, “thank you.” 

 

He shuffles his way back to Felix, who was still up against the wall; while his fíance was gathering intel, he was surveilling the auditorium from his point of view. He walks up to Shuuji and asks, “Well?” 

 

“I was told that the case the Iudex brought up was basically a handful of random young women who’ve all gone missing recently,” the taller man says, “the audience member is considered a victim in this case according to the Chief Justice, because he claims that there’s been a link between that one, and the sudden incident here.” 

 

“What makes him say that?” 

 

“He didn’t say. It’s just what he told the boy. He could’ve seen something from the investigation that gave him the thought, but that doesn’t sound in line for someone who’s supposed to be the ‘Chief Justice’ unless the evidence was palpable. I wouldn’t bet that the boy is bold enough to question the face of the justice system that runs in this town, but the Knave is watching all of this.” 

 

Shuuji points to the Harbinger, sitting in the front row with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. Lynette sits in the row behind her, a little too calm — or sleepy — about the current situation. 

 

“You think she’ll… sue, or something?” Felix questioned. 

 

“That’s not a call she can make, necessarily,” Shuuji said, “her being close to the twins is still a speculation at the moment. Although, if she weren’t, and she acted as his defense anyway, that would mean she’d have a motive, which would mean more trouble for us… I was bringing her up because her immersement in the Iudex speaking to Lyney is suspicious, and further validates my guess.” 

 

Felix was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, he gets an idea. He begins to whisper, “But wait, she can make that call. She’s Fatui — she has political influence. As a Harbinger, she wouldn’t need to hide herself. Neither the Chief Justice, nor the Prime Minister can’t ignore her. Tch… there’s no telling what she’ll do!” 

 

Arlecchino sat silently and patiently; her crossed eyes scrutinized Iudex Neuvillette, and the Prime Minister (but more critically). She focuses on how Lyney is handling the subtle accusation, regarding Lynette behind her. 

 

Shuuji takes Felix by the hand, and swiftly yet silently leads him to the exit. He gently closed the theater doors, and turned to his partner. “The most we can do as of right now is start planning,” he whispered to the shorter man, “but it will stay at that. We also have the opportunity to confirm to Mori the existence of another Fatui Harbinger in the area — you do that, and I’ll start strategizing.” 

 

As Felix turns, pulling his phone halfway out of his pocket, he is alarmed at the sight of three other people already in the front desk hall. Two men in suits, standing on each side of a lady with a big, black hat with black and yellow bows and a blue and yellow rose, and gold, curly hair, and bright blue eyes. She seemed to be drinking tea on a stand up tray, looking at some papers. 

 

She looks up, eventually noticing the partners. She glanced between her papers, and the men. Felix was about to orbit back to Shuuji, but the lady beckoned for him to come to her. Felix was reluctant, but vigilantly steps closer to her. 

 

“My apologies,” she says, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you and your friend seemed to have escaped the theater as well.” 

 

“… Yeah,” the man replied, “we just had to get out of there, y’know? My fíance doesn’t do well with remaining in the same spot for very long, especially not in a whole crowd.” 

 

“Ah, I see,” the lady smiled sweetly, “my reason’s similar — I just decided to take my work someplace else so that I could focus.” 

 

“Your work?” 

 

The woman sticks her papers into her purse. “I’m a professional investigator,” she says, “I was already working on something before the incident occurred during the show. I was planning on asking the Chief Justice to look into the case he’s having looked into myself, but, ah… firstly, I’m just working up the courage.” 

 

Felix nods along to her explanation, and then he reaches a thought — if he and Shuuji were able to join the investigation of the accident, they’d be able to gauge at the Knave’s purpose in Fontaine. It’d all depend on Lyney’s innocence. 

 

“Hey, miss… um?” 

 

“Oh, pardon me, I’m Navia,” the woman extended her hand out to shake his. 

 

Felix takes her hand, returning the favor. “I’m Felix Verlaine,” he says, “and this is my partner, Tsushima Shuuji. He is a forensic pathologist. I feel it’s a great deal, if you let us collaborate on this investigation.” 

 

“Oh? I do suppose he’d be a great help,” Navia says, as she looks off to the side. “But, the body’s already been inspected, no?” 

 

“True, but my partner has more experience in autopsy; the Iudex only brought in simple medics to observe a spontaneous death like this one. If you manage to convince Iudex Neuvillette, we can help you out!” 

 

“Hmm... “ Navia thought for a moment longer. “… Well, alright, but you get to help me make a convincing argument to the Chief to get us in.” 

 

Felix grinned. “I’m glad you agreed to let us work with you,” he crossed his arms, “let me go get Shuuji for a moment.” 

 

As he walked off, Navia sipped her tea. She then goes ahead and brings out two extra teacups for the men, as the bodyguard on her left (Silver) takes out the tea pot. The bodyguard on her right (Melus) takes out different flavors of tea. 

 

From where she’s sitting, she sees Felix whispering to his partner, as his partner is leaning down to hear him. She sets her teacup down as they trail back to her, giving them a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Tsushima,” she greeted Shuuji. 

 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “My partner’s told me everything I need to know about our little alliance for tonight; what I’m thinking is, what exactly are we looking for from the scene?” 

 

Navia sipped her tea cup before saying, “Well, I hear you’re a forensic pathologist. The case is raising suspicion upon the magician, and so I just want to be able to have clear objective records of whether the incident was an accident or not.” 

 

“Ah, to serve as a testimony,” the man crossed his arms, “I suppose I can help with that. Is that the reason you’re going to propose to the Chief Justice?” 

 

Navia pursed her lips. “I’m afraid it’s all I have,” she tells him, “my main concern with it if it’s enough , however, because one point he could bring up would be the fact that the body was already inspected by the paramedics, and that there’d be no need for further investigation.” 

 

Felix chimed in and said, “True, but not someone who performs professional autopsies. If he questions you, we can just show proof of Shuuji’s profession.” 

 

Navia thought for a moment. “Good point…” she sighed. “Alright, alright. I’m trusting you two to help me get to the bottom of Monsieur Cowel’s death.” 

 

She stood up, adjusting the strap of her purse, while Silver and Melus immediately packed up her tea set and stand up tray. “Let’s go, boys.” 

 

She leads the two men back into the auditorium, striding down the left side of the seating area. She comes to a stop at the very first row, at the last few seats, stationing herself on the third to last one. Felix sits next to Navia, and Shuuji next to Felix. Lyney was still up on stage, still freshly distraught by the interruption of his show, now distressed with the repercussions. 

 

The Chief Justice defects the stage after he finishes discussing the issue with Lyney, with the click of his cane on the ground pronouncing his aura. Navia doesn’t take her eyes off of him, squeezing her purse, which contained her draft of notes about the case. She watches as he strides by the rows of seats, presumably heading towards the exit, and emerges from her seat. 

 

“Monsieur,” she trailed up to the man. He turned halfway to look at her, keeping his hand grounded on the top of his cane. 

 

“Ah, good evening Ms. Caspar,” he greeted the woman, “I didn’t expect you to be caught up in here with the audience tonight.” 

 

“It was a shock to everyone,” she reasoned. She looked down at her purse, then back up to him. “If I may, I have a request, Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

 

“Of course. What do you have in mind?”  The Chief Justice kept himself poised, turning to face her directly; his cane is stationed right in front of him by both hands. 

 

“I… just noticed that when you ran an inspection of the staff member’s body, and confirmed him to be dead, you only had paramedics on standby,” she mentions; she looked him in the eye and continued, “and was wondering if my men could run an official autopsy? I have a forensic pathologist on hand, and wish to explore the details of the sudden death.” 

 

The Iudex stared back at her. His neutral expression now becomes more pensive, as he takes a moment to consider her appeal. After a moment of lightly tapping against his cane, he reaches an answer. 

 

“You bring an interesting point,” he calmly tells her, “and your request is intriguing. As long as I meet this professional, I’ll consider letting you join in on this case.” 

 

Navia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s just splendid!” She says, “your approval is much appreciated, Monsieur. I’ll introduce you to my men right away.” 

 

Navia proceeds to lead the Chief Justice back to the front row; Felix stands up, crossing his arms, but as he sees that Shuuji is still seated, he turns back to yank him up from his seat by the back of his collar. 

 

“Monsiuer Neuvillette,” Navia stands beside the pair and gestures to the taller man, “this is Tsushima Shuuji. He is the one I recommend to study the body of Cowell.” 

 

Tsuuji stood before the highly respected representative of Fontaine, at about the same height. The two men studied each other at a respectable distance, until the Chief Justice broke the short silence and spoke up first. 

 

“Bonne soirée, gentlemen,” he said, “I’ve been told that you are a forensic pathologist?” 

 

“That is correct, yes,” the glum man confirmed, “all we want is to take a look at the body.” 

 

“Yes, I am aware. You have my approval. But one thing to know is that we’ve escorted M. Cowell’s body down to a secret compartment below the stage, where the magician’s trick would have taken full effect.” 

 

“Below the stage…?” 

 

“To keep it away from the audience,” Neuvillete said, “and for space for the paramedics to do their work.” 

 

“I see…” Tsuuji turns to Navia, “let’s get to work.” 

 

Shuuji, Felix, and Navia all begin to head backstage, but Shuuji stops to turn and whispers to Felix, “Stay behind — keep a close eye on the Knave.” 

 

Felix nods, and reroutes back to the front row. Navia followed him with her eyes, before turning back to Shuuji. “What’s that about?” 

 

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he simply smiled at her. He turns back to search the ground for a hatch that would lead to the compartment underneath the stage, taking slower steps as he puts more focus into looking. 

 

Navia followed loosely behind him. “Thank you for helping me with this,” she says, “I was expecting the Chief Justice to raise suspicion upon my appeal, but I’m glad we were able to get in.” She stared at the floor, finding herself mentally questioning the reason behind the Iudex’s trust. 

 

“It’s no problem,” Shuuji deadpanned. He finally manages to spot a hatch, just in the corner. He beckons for the woman to come over, approaching it and crouching down to pull it up. A ladder that leads straight down is revealed, and the man wastes no time going down. 

 

He skips the last few steps, choosing to hop down to the ground. He turns around, looking down a long hallway in which he assumes extends to the aisle in between the rows of seats before the stage. He spots Cowell’s body, which is covered by a sizable white cover, and littered medical supplies near it. He makes his way over to where the paramedics must have done their work, and crouches down next to the body. 

 

Navia lets herself down into the corridor by the time Shuuji unveils Cowell’s body, just enough to show his head. Because of the glass tank’s crash, the man’s body looked crushed. The very few parts of him that seemed to be intact were his head, his left arm, half of his right arm, and his legs from the knees down. Shuuji removes the man’s mask, and there seems to be a large, and very dark purple splotch over the man’s right eye. 

 

Navia made her way up to Shuuji, observing Cowell from where she stood. There seems to be more,” she pointed out; there was another splotch hidden underneath Cowell’s shirt collar, and another the underside of his jaw. 

 

“That’s odd,” the man murmured, “wouldn’t the paramedics or the Iudex mention this to Lyney? They seem to be more noticeable up close compared to watching him from the crowd…” 

 

In all honesty, the bandaged man was most likely to be the first to notice Cowell’s attempts to obscure the signs of this… illness, for lack of a better word. 

 

Navia adds, “The fall of the tank finished him off, if this strange contamination of sorts hadn’t already. Surely he must’ve felt weakened during the performance, yet he seemed perfectly fine.” 

 

Shuuji pulls down Cowell’s collar a little more to inspect the splotch on his neck. He runs small circles on it with the tip of his finger; “The infected skin is more soft,” he observes, “almost mushy, even. These splotches could easily pass as bruises, but that would be placing Lyney below something as cruel as mistreatment of the staff.” 

 

“That is a big assumption,” Navia agreed. She looks at Cowell’s body again. “Is it an infection? He really looks like he’s contaminated with something.” 

 

“It’s not a bad guess,” Shuuji brings Cowell’s left arm closer to him by the wrist, and pushes up the wrist collar — more dark splotches. “These spots are a considerably large size, and loosely decays the skin. It could potentially be a skin infection. I wonder if they affect his blood cells… or vice versa. Hm…” 

 

Shuuji lets go of Cowell’s hand; he puts his mask back on, and pulls the white sheet back over his head. “We should share this with the Chief Justice,” he decided, as he stood up and faced Navia. “Wouldn’t it help to take pictures?” 

 

“You’re correct, although I normally have a member of my group play that role,” the woman says, “and unfortunately, I didn’t bring her along tonight. Maybe we can get the Chief Justice to run another inspection on M. Cowell’s body, and pay special attention to his contamination.” 

 

She leads him back to the ladder, and up and out of the hatch. After Shuuji makes it out, Felix comes up to him. “The Knave has been exchanging looks with the magician,” he tells him, “he might be being honest with the Chief Justice about the accident, but he’s silently communicating with that woman.” 

 

“I see,” Shuuji said, “we’ve found something suspicious as well. When Miss Navia and I took a look at Cowell’s corpse, he looked like he was infected by something.” 

 

“How so?” 

 

“There were these large, dark purple patches on his neck and forearm. Almost like his skin was decaying, even though it would’ve been way too early for his body to start decomposing. We suspect that he may have been performing with those spots the entire show up until this point; the tank obviously killed him, but he seems to have had a pre-existing disease going on at the same time.” 

 

“Weird…” Felix tilted his hat. He crosses his arms and asks, “Should we let Monsieur Neuvillette know about this?” 

 

Navia chimed in, “I was wondering — surely this would’ve been mentioned to him already, no? Unless the paramedics chose not to disclose this information with the Chief Justice, at the very least, they should’ve noticed it, right?” 

 

“It was an emergency, so I imagine all they were focused on was trying to ensure that he was alive,” Shuuji turns to her, “but since the Iudex seemed to have confirmed him to be dead, that’s probably all that mattered by that point. Now that we’re here and have done our job, we can bring this to him as a new discovery.” 

 

“First things first — where is he?” Felix asked. 

 

The group scanned the audience from their point, being at the edge of the left side of the stage. Lyney was still in the same spot, standing in front of the stage, where the Chief Justice addressed him earlier. He’s been pacing back and forth since his talk with the man. His twin sister, brother, and the Knave are in the same spot, still with the woman keeping her eyes on him. Lynette and Freminet being idle, but paying equal attention to the situation their brother is in. 

 

Shuuji eventually spots Neuvillette up in the highest theater booth, having a hushed conversation with the Prime Minister. He’s keeping himself poised and proper, whereas Lady Focalors sits with her legs crossed, also holding onto a cane of some sort, listening intently to what the man has to say. 

 

“Would it matter if we were to interrupt a conversation with the Prime Minister?” Shuuji said, turning to his colleagues. 

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Navia says, “I already feel like I’ve asked for too much by simply requesting to investigate the incident. Besides, the Chief Justice has a close relationship with Lady Focalors. Their dynamic is… interesting, to say the least.” 

 

Felix peered up at the pair in the booth. At one point, the Prime Minister averted her eyes to look down at the man on stage in the eye; it was for a split second, before she stared at the person she actually meant to — Lyney. Felix turned his head to look at the magician as well, who still seemed distressed. 

 

Lady Focalors finally makes a move. Not directly, no — she whispers to the Chief Justice, and after which, he exits her booth. He walks back out onto the stage, the click of his cane causing the murmurs of the audience to shrink. 

 

“M. Lyney,” he looks down at the boy; when they’re making eye contact, he continues, “I hereby declare that you shall be put on trial for the death of your assistant, M. Cowel.” 

 

The audience’s chattering arose once more, and Lyeny’s face shifted from tense to horrified. Shuuji and Navia turned their heads to face Neuvillette, while Felix looked back at Lady Focalors. The woman is resting her face in the palm of her hand, looking down at the accused magician as he struggles to understand the sudden announcement. 

 

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” he managed to say, “if I may speak — I thought I was going to get charged for the damages?”

 

“The damages that caused the murder, yes,” Lady Furina spoke up. She emerges from her seat, leaning against the edge of the booth, and says, “M. Cowell was killed, clearly because you failed to secure the props. Therefore, as the star attraction of the entire show, the blame falls into your hands.” 

 

Lyney’s eyes kept widening in terror. He looks down at the ground, thinking of anything he could possibly do — there’s his siblings, who can vouch for him, since they were a part of the show’s preparation, and there are the other assistants who can provide the same background, if not, more. His nails bite into his palms the more he clenches his fists in distress, realizing that he may have no real choice but to turn to Father. 

 

Far be it for Arlecchino to get involved with affairs such as this; this trial wouldn’t concern the Fatui as a whole, if not for the fact that the House of the Hearth was in association with them. She knows this too — one side glance from her protege gave her the signal to start brewing a plan to fish him out of this. After all, the woman was very self-assured that she could work her way around arguing with the Prime Minister. 

 

“Well,” Navia mumbled, surprised at the Lady’s announcement, “that’s quite unfortunate. I have business to discuss with her… hm…” Navia looked down in thought. 

 

She whispers to Felix and Shuuji, “It’s best we leave the stage, so that the trial may commence.” 

 

Both men looked at her. “Wait, here? On stage??” Felix asked. 

 

Navia smiles. “I’ll explain once we’re back in the audience.” She glanced back up to the Prime Minister, who sat back down in her seat, keeping an eye on the magician. Then, her eyes follow the trio of investigators trailing back to the front row. She shifts her focus back on Lyney, and she tells him, “Go on, and take your place on the stage; the trial commences tonight, right now. ” 

 

“So this is the Prime Minister’s way of orchestrating justice,” Shuuji thinks to himself, as he sits down next to his partner. “Demanding, but committed. How will the magician boy manage to overcome this trial? Perhaps, what I anticipate the most is how the Knave will react to the show…”

 

He side-glances over to the Harbinger. The woman was sitting back in her seat, keeping a critical eye on Lyney as he entered the stage. 

 

“I look forward to uncovering your secrets, Arlecchino.”