As anywhere else in the world, abandoned buildings were ideal gathering places for outlaws. Neglected buildings and rejected people leaned on one another, filling what each lacked.

Today, too, predators of the urban jungle were counting their spoils in an abandoned building.

Number Two grinned at a little glass bottle filled with golden powder.

“Hehehe. What a haul. Good work, Number One.”

The bottle was not large. If you stuck your index finger into it, you would touch the bottom before the finger was all the way in.

But precious things often proved their worth through their very smallness. If such a tiny quantity needed a bottle of its own, that meant the contents were all the more important.

“This is spice. A Level 2 luxury at the very least, and depending on the variety, it could go as high as Level 4. Something the Level 0 underclass isn't allowed to own—and couldn't get their hands on anyway. Better for us to put it to more meaningful use.”

Number One, who had actually stolen it, looked unconvinced.

“It's just powder. You sure it's expensive?”

“You really didn't know? Then why'd you steal some lousy powder?”

“No particular reason. They were holding it like it was precious, so I beat them up and took it.”

“Sheesh. It's a miracle a clueless fuck like you managed to steal it in one piece.”

“What was that, asshole?”

Ignoring Number One's indignation, Number Two continued.

“I used to be with the Market, so I know. It's definitely expensive. I'll have to get its exact value checked, but we might even be able to buy a motor carriage with it. A luxury you eat, and then it disappears inside you. That sort of thing fetches a high price in the Military State.”

“You calling me a clueless fuck? Want to see how clueless you'll be after a clueless fuck beats your ass?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake. You're still picking a fight over ancient history?”

“You said it just now!”

Number Three, who had been quietly watching the pair bicker, suddenly spoke.

“What about the risk of being followed?”

Number One answered with absolute confidence.

“None. I checked along the way, too. Nobody.”

Still unconvinced, Number Three spoke gravely.

“Be careful anyway. Someone might have picked up your trail.”

“Come on. Who'd track us down over a Level 0 citizen getting roughed up a little? They won't even take a Level 0 citizen's complaint. We can rob them all we want. Nothing to worry about.”

“That's precisely why I'm saying this. The police would come charging in openly. But if someone is backing them, that person will be thorough about getting revenge.”

Number One waved this off as nonsense, but Number Three refused to let it slide. At his insistence, Number One clicked his tongue and muttered,

“There goes that paranoid fuck again.”

Ordinarily, Number Three would have snapped back. For some reason, though, today he remained lost in thought instead.

“There's no way a Level 0 could get hold of spice. Someone must have given it to them. They might have someone else behind them.”

“So what if they do? You think they'd compare to him?”

Number One snickered, and even Number Three did not dispute that.

The new wind blowing through these back alleys was a storm powerful enough to shake the old order to its foundations. A true darkness that would sweep away all the assorted filth. A shadow cast over the Military State.

With his power, even they, forced into hiding by the Military State's oppression, might finally have room to breathe again.

They could not, therefore, fear the mere backer of a Level 0 citizen.

That would be an insult to him.

“A back-alley backer is just a jackal. Compared to someone so powerful he laughs at generals, someone rumored to have escaped from Tantalus... they're nothing but riffraff.”

Number One spoke proudly, as though becoming that man's follower were a stroke of luck—or an honor that came once in a lifetime.

Number Three sighed and slowly got to his feet.

“... Fine. If we're finished here, I'm going to the toilet for a moment.”

Number One called after him as he left.

“Go as far away as you can! We can't report to him that you got arrested for pissing outside our base!”

“Do I look like an idiot who can't stop midstream?”

“Fair enough. You might have trouble getting it out, but stopping shouldn't be a problem.”

“You little shit...”

Apparently in a hurry to relieve himself, Number Three left without another word. Numbers One and Two snickered and cracked open some lukewarm beer.

Concentrated beer, a Level 1 luxury.

Concentration made it strong, and it was sold lukewarm. Without ice, it was barely fit for human consumption, but it was the only alcohol ordinary people could obtain.

They had no choice. Things might be different once they had a firm grip on power in the back alleys, but for now, they could only wet their throats with this awful beer.

Pouring water into his beer mug, Number Two muttered,

“You've got to give that bastard's bladder credit. It's a Level 0 bladder...”

“Mark my words. Galen—no, Number Three—is going to get hauled off for public urination before they catch him for anything else.”

“He'd be lucky if that was all. At least the military police would give him time to pull up his pants. If someone attacks him like that, he'll never be able to tell a soul...”

THUD.

The pair, who had been merrily tearing into their absent companion over drinks, fell silent together at the sound from downstairs. They held their breath and listened, but nothing followed that first noise.

Number Two frowned.

“Number Three, is that you? Don't tell me you're pissing right downstairs! We told you to go farther away because it stinks!”

There was no answer. Number Two hauled himself up and walked to the edge of the abandoned building.

Its walls had not yet been built. From an edge where a single misstep could send him plummeting five floors, he poked only his head out to inspect the floor below.

“What the hell? Nobody down there. Was it the wind?”

Seeing him perched precariously at the edge with his head sticking out, Number One spoke up in concern.

“Hey, Milsen. Isn't that dangerous? You look like you're going to fall.”

“You chicken shit. Did you catch Galen's worrying? What's dangerous about this?”

“You've been drinking. If you slip...”

“Sometimes I wonder how cowards like you ever joined an organization. If you're dumb enough to get drunk off one beer, you deserve to fall and die. Nag, nag, nag, like you're my mother...”

Ignoring his mother's nagging? For shame.

I, too, offered Number Two some heartfelt advice, since he clearly knew nothing.

“You should listen to your mother. Her advice is all for your own good.”

“Huh?”

The instant Number Two uttered that stupid question, I punished the unfilial son. The wire attached to a hook whipped around and wound itself around his neck.

Holding its other end, I murmured,

“For the crime of ignoring her nagging, I sentence you to the umbilical cord.”

“Ghk!”

His body lurched toward the edge, the wire tightening around his throat. Panicking, Number One hastily grabbed his legs.

That left Number Two being pulled from both ends, choking.

Over his companion's strangled gasps, Number One shouted,

“Who's there?!”

“A sad, hungry man who's lost his dinner. I've come to avenge the evening meal that never got to be born.”

While Number One was away from the stairs, I trudged up them.

Whew. Plan successful.

Being an ordinary human, I couldn't fly, so having them guard the stairs would have been quite inconvenient. I could only thank them for clearing the way themselves.

Number One belatedly noticed my arrival.

“You bastard! What did you do to Number Three?”

“The man with the tiny bladder is covering the wall he dirtied with his own body. Personally, I think he looks filthier than the contents of his bladder... Ugh, picturing it has put me in a bad mood again. You're getting a beating. Just let me catch my breath first.”

Setting up on the fifth floor was worse than their crimes. It had taken forever to climb up here. If you're a human who lives with his feet on the ground, please make use of the ground floor.

“Who are you? Who sent you?”

“The world sent me. Anyway, are people still beating others up for absolutely no reason these days? Aren't you afraid of the stern judgment of the Military State's criminal code?”

As I strode toward him, Number One glanced desperately at Number Two, who was still choking and gasping. If he let go, it looked as though Number Two would fall five floors with the wire still around his neck.

'I have no choice. If he attacks me like this, we're both finished. Better to let go altogether. One of us has to survive!'

Having made his decision, Number One squeezed his eyes shut and let go.

Eyes wide with betrayal, Number Two reached out in vain, but the helping hands were already gone. His body was dragged over the edge, hung there precariously for a moment, then slipped out of sight.

I marveled.

“Wow. You let go just like that. I thought you'd hang on a little longer.”

“You son of a bitch...! You killed Number Two!”

“No. You're the one who let go.”

I don't just kill people like that. Number Two would be floundering in the wire net I had made on the floor below. As for feeling betrayed by you, well... perhaps?

Unaware of that, Number One worked himself into a frenzy and pulled a razor-sharp knife from his pocket.

“Are you alone?”

“I've been a little lonely lately.”

I answered with a slight tip of my magician's hat. Gripping his knife tightly, Number One checked for other presences.

'He's the only one I can sense. He doesn't look that strong. If he were, he'd have stormed straight in instead of ambushing us one at a time.'

Number One was right.

I was an ordinary petty criminal. A perfectly normal person who grew wary of two opponents, ran from three, and felt pain when stabbed.

So I had to give it my all even against riffraff like this.

'He must have planned to attack while I was holding Number Two. Too bad. We've already steeled ourselves. Number Two will understand.'

Actually, no. He resents you quite a lot.

Having settled matters entirely to his own satisfaction, Number One glared at me with blazing eyes.

“I'll avenge Numbers Two and Three, you bastard!”

He raised his knife and charged straight at me.

I wasn't particularly interested in a head-on fight. A strong opponent was a problem, but so was a weak one. I'd rather avoid having someone trip over his own feet mid-fight and stab me by accident.

So...

“Ta-da.”

I produced the card I had kept hidden.

The six of diamonds, its six diamonds arranged in a circle.

'A card? What does he think he's going to do with that?!'

Outwardly, it was an ordinary card.

In truth, however, it was alchemical equipment I had spent my entire fortune creating. The culmination of extravagant spending, with each card costing one alchemical gold coin—or even two.

I alchemically transmuted the card through my biometric terminal. In an instant, it unraveled strand by strand and revealed its true form.

A small revolver that fit snugly in my palm.

Number One's eyes widened.

'A—a gun?!'

Yep. A gun.

BANG.

The muffled shot struck his ankle, leaving a sizable hole.

It lacked the power to pass clean through, but a bullet fired at such close range was more than enough to stop an ordinary robber.

“Ghh!”

It was only a gun, after all. People don't die the instant they're shot. If he had endured the pain and taken another step, if he had lunged at me anyway, Number One might have won.

But he was even more insignificant than this petty criminal.

Unable to endure the pain, he lost his balance and skidded across the floor. I turned the revolver back into a card, took out my skewer, and sat on top of him.

Having easily subdued Number One, I spoke at my leisure.

“Friends. Unless you'd like to get to know me even better, let's start compromising. At this point, I can still call it a day if you just hand over the spice.”

“Ghk! Bullshit...!”

Pinned beneath me, Number One struggled without losing an ounce of his fighting spirit.

His vigorous thrashing nearly toppled me, so I had no choice but to stab his shoulder with the skewer.

“Aaaaaaargh!”

Having something inserted into his body made Number One considerably more cooperative. Instead of struggling further, he gritted his teeth and shouted,

“Do you know who we are? We're the Military State's ‘Shadow’! If you kill me, he won't let you get away with it!”

He? Who was this “he” now? And what kind of organization was Shadow? Why had all these strange people moved into back alleys with nothing worth picking over while I was gone?

Well, that wasn't my concern for the moment.

It wasn't what mattered right now.

“Whatever. Where's the spice? It's rather valuable, so I'd like it back.”

“Ha!”

Apparently failing to grasp his situation, Number One put on a tremendous show of bravado even while pinned beneath me.

“The spice? Hmph. It's in my stomach. Cut me open and get it yourself!”

A lie. He had hidden the spice in his inner pocket.

I could simply have searched his clothes and taken it, but curiosity about the source of that baseless bravado prompted me to ask,

“You shouldn't say things like that lightly, my friend. What if I really cut your belly open?”

“Ha! Go ahead! As if you have the guts!”

His bold words were surprisingly sincere, so I fell silent.

While I said nothing, Number One spoke triumphantly.

“What, scared? We're all prepared to fucking die. You think we'd rob people in the Military State without being ready for that?”

That was true enough.

Being caught committing robbery in the Military State meant a hard-labor sentence of at least fifteen years. Depending on the number of victims and the severity of the crime, it could even mean summary execution.

If he washed his hands of it now and disappeared, he might still have a chance at life, but...

“If our fate is to work our whole fucking lives until we finally drop dead anyway, we'd rather live it up before we go! For the man who'll grant our wishes, we're ready to die—and ready to kill!”

I understood. As a mind reader, I understood his wishes and desires.

'I'm at the bottom of a country without dreams or hope. He's the only one who can change my fate! He'll overthrow the Military State and rule the underworld! Then, as his follower, I can change my life too...!'

The Military State. In this country where the state itself had claimed everything, there were no dreams, no hope, no romance, no luxury. People simply wore away slowly in their repetitive daily lives.

The future offered by a country that controlled everything was such a rigidly controlled gray that anyone with romance in their heart could only wither and die.

But...

“My friend. You shouldn't say you're prepared to die so lightly. Especially not in front of me.”

No living person had ever died before, so no one knew whether their claim of being prepared for death was true or false.

Even if they meant it at the time, countless people struggled pathetically when death actually approached.

Yet those who claimed to be ready for death often wielded that resolve like a weapon and killed others. As though they could repay those sins with their own deaths.

Without ever proving that they could pay, they simply kept creating more sins.

So if someone said they were prepared to die—if, at least, their belief in their own resolve was genuine...

I had no choice but to put it to the test, did I?

I spoke leisurely.

“Actually, that spice is nicknamed ‘sprinkling gold dust.’ It's made by plucking and drying only the pistils of a flower occasionally found along the southeastern coast. A top-quality spice—a handful of the powder can buy a plot of land. An edible luxury like that would fetch an extremely high price even in the Military State.”

“Haha! Too bad! Something that precious is going to turn into my shit!”

'I thought it looked special...! Good. If I can fool him—or even if he takes it, if I tell him about this—it'll help his great undertaking...!'

“But ta-da. Here's the spice.”

I shook the bottle full of gleaming golden powder before his eyes. Confusion flashed through them.

'I know I put it in my inner pocket. How did he know?'

“I'm a magician, you see. I can take things out of a box without even touching it. Though this time, the box was your stomach.”

Of course, I had simply read his thoughts and picked his pocket, but I spoke as though I had really taken it from inside his belly.

“Did you know? The flower this spice comes from is poisonous. Eat it the wrong way, and it can kill you. The pistil has the least poison and a distinctive fragrance, but even this spice, made by drying and concentrating it... becomes a deadly poison if you eat enough.”

'What? Poison...?'

“Though, in truth, more people have probably died trying to get their hands on it than from eating it. That's why people have long compared this spice to a human life.”

So his claim that he had eaten all the spice could only have been a lie...

Though it wouldn't be for much longer.

“As you said, I'm not prepared to die or to kill. Someone without that resolve has no right to possess a spice as precious as a human life.”

Lamenting this, I seized his hair and pulled his head up. Through the slight gap between his lips, I inserted a card rolled into a cylinder.

He could no longer close his mouth. As Number One panicked, I took the spice bottle between two fingers. The puzzlement in his eyes gradually turned to terror.

“Sorry I took it out without asking. I'll put it back.”

It's all right. The glass bottle is sturdy.

With a little luck, he might survive.