I deliberately kept my clothes on.

Still wearing the blood-soaked postman's uniform, I walked down the street. It must have been time to open up shop, because merchants were beginning to emerge one by one.

TAP.

I walked among them without a word.

Those who met my eyes flinched, their shoulders trembling before they turned away. They pretended not to see me. Of course they did. They knew I was Ivan's hound.

On these streets under his protection, Ivan was both a protective fence and an absolute ruler.

He protected those who followed his rules and showed them mercy. But if they crossed the line, he punished them ruthlessly, without a shred of mercy. From time to time, he reminded those who had grown accustomed to his kindness of that fact.

They were not to take his mercy for granted and cross the line.

Making a fucking mess of Trixie's tavern today, and walking through the streets covered in blood instead of changing my clothes, were extensions of that warning. Ivan had ordered me to do so.

「Things have gotten lax lately.」

「I'm seeing signs of people getting ready to cross the line.」

「While you're dealing with Trixie, put a little fear into them, Najin.」

I was simply following those orders.

"Eek..."

A merchant who met my eyes as I walked recoiled in terror. He often kept company with Trixie, walking a tightrope along the line Ivan had drawn.

"..."

I looked at him in silence.

His gaze moved to the thick blood caked onto my clothes, then to the sword hilt at my waist.

TAP.

I passed the trembling, terrified man without a word. Ivan hadn't ordered me to deal with him. Not yet. I could only hope this had served as a proper warning.

'For fuck's sake.'

Just don't cross the line.

Don't get on Ivan's bad side. The more you do, the more work I have, and the more pointless cutting I have to do. And it isn't particularly enjoyable.

It's wet, sticky, and unpleasant.

It wasn't moral guilt. It just felt like shit. I especially hated how uncomfortable things became whenever I ran into the dead person's family.

"Whew..."

I let out a long breath and kept walking.

How long had I walked? Reaching my destination, I stopped and looked up. Before me lay a bustling district built by gathering only the best things this underground city had to offer.

Bright, ostentatious ore lamps.

Luxury goods made from refined ore.

Goods, food, and fabrics from above.

This was the heart of the underground city of Atman: a sort of trading post that sent the ore mined here up above and received goods in return... and the location of the only passage to the world above.

TAP.

I headed toward the most splendid building of all. It was the residence of the ruler of this district, One-Eyed Ivan.

My employer.

2.

One-Eyed Ivan.

Before falling into the underground city of Atman, he had been a knight and a swordsman who had attained the rank of Sword Expert. Though his eventual downfall had landed him here, he was still a powerful man who could pour out sword aura with ease.

Anyone powerful enough to be a knight would stand out wherever they ended up. Ivan was no exception.

He took the underground city by storm.

Ivan drove Horse the Spider, the former master of the bustling district, to the city's outskirts and took his place. He expanded his power by thoroughly crushing anyone who challenged his authority. It was the beginning of a long, long civil war.

'I don't know all the details... '

But I did know that the civil war had ended long ago, and that Ivan had won. Even now, several years later, he remained the city's de facto ruler.

'And.'

He was also my teacher and employer.

Ivan was the one who had taken me in after my parents abandoned me and taught me how to survive in this city. Mostly by teaching me how to kill people, admittedly.

"Ivan, are you in there?"

I knocked on his door.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Soon, a voice from inside told me to come in. I opened the door and entered Ivan's office, where a middle-aged man with a patch over his right eye came into view.

Broad shoulders. Forearms covered in scars. Strands of white scattered through jet-black hair.

It was Ivan, the owner of this office. Arms folded, he glared at me with his one remaining eye. It was a murderous look, fierce enough to suggest he could tear a man to death. Then his gaze landed on my face.

"What the—Najin, it's you!"

Ivan's expression relaxed at once.

He burst into hearty laughter and slammed his hand against the table.

BANG!

"I thought that Spider bastard had sent an assassin. Why the hell are you covered in so much blood? You had me on edge—I thought you'd cut the throats of everyone downstairs before coming up."

"You didn't look on edge at all."

"Hey, you brat, can't you see this? I'm sweating!"

Ivan pointed to the back of his neck as he shouted.

For all his shouting, all I could see were small scars. I shrugged and took off the postman's coat and hat, setting them down.

"You told me to put a little fear into them."

"Did I?"

"Isn't it a little early for dementia?"

"I'm joking. Just joking."

Ivan lit a cigarette and jerked his chin at me, signaling that I should report how the job had gone. I perched on the sofa in his office and began.

"Just as you expected, Trixie had connections with Horse. I saw some of Horse's men there."

"I knew it."

Ivan muttered the words as he exhaled gray smoke.

"Trixie liked playing along the line, but he didn't have the guts to cross it. And suddenly a guy like that crosses it for everyone to see?"

He tapped the table.

"He had someone backing him. So, how many were there?"

"Thirteen. About half looked like members of Horse's family."

"And?"

Ivan's mouth stretched into a wide grin. With his eye fixed on me in interest, I gave him a brief answer.

"I cut off an arm or a leg from twelve of the thirteen. I left Carbin with all four limbs and put him in charge of cleaning up. And I killed Trixie."

"Without a scratch? Against thirteen?"

I nodded, and Ivan laughed aloud. His rough laughter rang through the office. After laughing for a good while, he let out a long breath.

"Ha! Trixie's face must have been a sight. Well, if he'd rounded up thirteen men, he probably figured that was more than enough to finish off one young punk."

"Trixie did say exactly that."

"You crazy bastard."

"Trixie?"

"Not Trixie. You. I'm talking about you."

Where the hell had a monster like this come from?

Muttering that, Ivan stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. A hiss filled the room.

HISSS.

"I'll call you when I have another job for you. Rest until then. Oh, and..."

Ivan rubbed his chin as though something had just occurred to him.

"Stay well away from the square for a while."

"The square?"

"Yes. They've sent people down from above. Because of the Constellation's trial that's going to appear in the square soon."

A Constellation's trial. A Constellation—in other words, a star.

At the word Constellation, I reflexively asked another question.

"... What's a Constellation's trial?"

"Oh, you've never seen it? It's a sort of event held every thirteen years."

Thirteen years ago, I would have been five.

Of course I wouldn't know. I nodded and listened to Ivan.

"Do you know who the Constellation called the Sword of Selection is?"

"Arthur?"

"Right, King Arthur. You know the most famous legend about that Constellation, don't you? The one about pulling a sword out of a stone."

I did.

Excalibur, the legendary sword embedded in stone. The sword that marked the beginning of The Life of Arthur, and the star sword that later became the shape of the constellation Arthur inscribed in the heavens.

"Every thirteen years, the Sword of Selection bestows a trial upon the whole continent. A simple, straightforward trial: pull the sword from the stone. Really, it's only called a trial. It's just an event. In hundreds of years, not a single person has pulled that sword out."

Ivan shrugged.

"It's about spreading his legend far and wide, reminding people of it regularly... something like that. The sword appears in every city with a decent population, so it shows up even here underground."

That was precisely the problem.

Ivan clicked his tongue and continued.

"It might appear in all sorts of cities, but it's still a sword made from King Arthur's starlight. A sacred relic. If a relic like that appears in this shithole, do you think the people above are going to sit back and do nothing?"

How did the people above see this place? Considering their opinion of this city, the answer came quickly.

"They won't let anyone so much as touch the sword."

"Exactly. Whenever this time rolls around, the order that worships the star throws an absolute fit."

"Do they execute everyone who approaches the sword for blasphemy or something?"

"Something like that. Usually they don't go as far as execution, just beat people senseless... but depending on the circumstances, they might cut your head off on the spot."

Ivan shook his head in disgust.

"That's brutal."

"Isn't it? So stay away from the square if you can. The guards sent down from above will be watching the sword all day."

"... When is the sword supposed to appear?"

"Najin."

Ivan looked steadily at me.

There was none of his earlier playfulness in his eye. As someone who had lived longer than I had, he offered me advice.

"It's best not to do anything that might upset the big shots living up above. Take that to heart."

He pointed to his eye patch.

Indicating the right eye they had taken from him when he was banished to this city from above, Ivan gave a bitter smile.

"Live within the lines they've drawn. Cross them, and life gets hard."

He was probably speaking from his own experience.

I reluctantly nodded.

"... I'll remember that."

"Good. Off you go."

Just as I was about to leave the office...

"Najin."

Ivan called me back.

Resting his chin on his hand, he spoke casually.

"The Constellation's trial starts at midnight tonight. If you're somewhere with a good view, you should at least be able to watch the sword 'plant itself.'"

I tilted my head.

Ivan sighed and added,

"District Thirty-One. The window seats at Taria Tavern are the best spot. Give them my name. They'll spare you a seat."

Finally understanding what he meant, I smiled.

I bowed my head slightly to Ivan, then all but ran out of the building.

3.

Taria Tavern, near the square.

The tavern was packed with people determined not to miss the event that came only once every thirteen years. How could it be otherwise? For those who had fallen into this city and lived on, forgetting both sunlight and starlight, this was one of the few opportunities they would have in their lifetimes.

A chance to see a star.

A chance to recall the forgotten sights of the outside world.

To seize that chance, the underground city's residents were willing to pay double the usual price for a seat. The window seats, in particular, fetched whatever price the tavern asked.

"..."

At one of those window seats in Taria Tavern—the best of the best, overlooking the whole square—Najin set a worn, tattered storybook on the table beside a drink to quench his thirst.

The Life of Arthur.

With the storybook open to its last page, Najin quietly waited for the appointed hour. Only a few minutes remained until midnight. Swallowing nervously, he stared out the window.

Stars, starlight, Constellations.

The one yearning the boy from the landfill could not let go of, though nothing else about the outside world interested him. The star had yet to fall, but the boy's eyes were already shining like stars.

'One minute.'

Najin counted silently.

A minute passed that felt like an hour. When only ten seconds or so remained, he let out a long breath and opened his eyes wide.

DONG, DONG, DONG...

As the bells rang through the tavern, the crowd erupted in cheers. Najin immediately raised his head and looked through the window at the underground city's ceiling. Where there had been only dim ore embedded precariously in the rock, the ceiling now shone brilliantly.

Tiny scratches in the ceiling.

Gaps formed as the stone wore away over countless years.

From those tiny crevices, too small for even sunlight to pass through, platinum-colored particles seeped out. Light of a color he had never seen before. Only then did Najin realize that it was starlight.

A flash.

Starlight blossomed in profusion, illuminating the ore embedded in the ceiling. It was the dead of night, yet the underground city shone brighter than ever.

Beautiful. The thought came to Najin unbidden.

For the first time in his eighteen years of life, he was witnessing starlight. A sentence from the storybook he had read over and over drifted through his mind. Brilliant starlight, shining platinum.

"Ah," he breathed without thinking.

Soon, the starlight seeping through the ceiling began gathering together. A single sword took shape from that brilliant light. Excalibur—the holy sword worshipped by the order, and the star sword forged from starlight.

Amid the brilliant starlight, Excalibur began to fall. Trailing a halo of platinum light, it plunged toward the square from high above the underground city.

Najin had never seen one, but he thought that a shooting star might look something like that.

"Wow..."

Awed breaths rose from all around the tavern.

The room was full of people who had spent a fortune for this fleeting sight, lasting not even a few minutes. Witnessing the starlight they had forgotten, that they had lived without remembering, they groaned with emotion and longed for the past.

After its brief descent, the holy sword embedded itself in the center of the square.

Excalibur made no crashing noise as it sank into the ground. Only a deep sound, like the tolling of a majestic bell, swept through the underground city.

'... Ah.'

Najin looked at the sword planted in the center of the square.

It was too far away to see clearly, but surely a constellation was engraved on the flat of that holy blade. Arthur's constellation—the man who had once raced across the continent with a single sword in hand.

He wanted to see it.

He wanted to see it just a little closer.

The boy's eyes shone. Whether that was because of the starlight scattered by the holy sword or a light shining from within his own eyes, there was no telling. Then, with his face almost pressed against the window, Najin felt something strange.

'... What is this?'

An inexplicable sense that something was off.

No, that wasn't quite right. Something stirred deep inside him. That stirring soon became words, then a sentence, filling Najin's mind.

One sentence filled his head.

Draw the sword.

Najin had no idea why those words had occurred to him. He shook his head, trying to cast off the absurd fantasy. Was he crazy? If he touched that sword, they would cut off not only his hand but his head, too, and put it on display.

CLANK, CLANK!

It happened then.

THUD.

Soldiers emerged from somewhere and surrounded the sword embedded in the ground. Hidden behind their armor, the sword suffused with starlight could no longer be seen. Disappointed sighs rose from all around the tavern.

'Couldn't they let us look a little longer?'

Najin, too, glared at the soldiers and clicked his tongue.

Looking at it wouldn't wear it out. Why did the people from above have to make such a fuss? With those thoughts, he slowly rose from his seat.

Najin's eyes, which had shone with starlight, had already returned to their original color and temperature. Cold, subdued eyes of someone resigned to his lot. He left the tavern without a word.

Just like that, the starlight Najin had encountered for the first time in his life was gone from his side. More precisely, it had been cut off by the boundary separating this underground city from the 'world above.' It suddenly occurred to him that the soldiers surrounding the sword were no different from this city's ceiling.

"Hah."

Najin sighed.

Dreaming futile dreams only made life exhausting. It was something his two teachers, Offen and Ivan, said all the time. Turning those words over, Najin sorted out his thoughts.

Or tried to.

Even as countless words were swept away, one sentence held its place.

'Draw the sword.'

A single sentence he could neither shake off nor put in order.

Najin mulled over those words as they circled endlessly through his mind.