He was a disreputable-looking man with a knife scar across his face. Even the objective-minded AB must have thought of criminal activity the moment she saw him.

Resting a keen-edged longsword on his shoulder, he showed little concern at the sight of her officer's uniform.

"... An officer?"

Criminals could not even meet an officer's eyes. From the strength they possessed to the authority they wielded, officers outclassed them in every way.

Yet the fierce-looking man before her showed no fear whatsoever. He even gave her a defiant smile.

"Well, well, Officer. That fellow's one of ours. Sorry, but would you mind handing him over?"

AB replied stiffly.

"He is already dead."

"Heh heh. I know. We just need his corpse more than we need him alive. He was our comrade, so we thought we'd give him a funeral."

Snickers followed.

They showed no grief at all before their comrade's corpse. They merely watched it greedily, as though it were a treasure chest.

"Making trouble for us, running away just to fucking die... Hurry up. We'd like to take him before it all goes to waste. How about stepping aside?"

Now that he was a corpse, AB had no reason to concern herself with him. But neither did she have any reason to accept these suspicious people's demands.

She refused outright.

"I refuse."

"Tch. Why?"

"I am under no obligation to answer you."

"Oh, right. So that's what our esteemed officer has to say."

His mocking tone contained not a shred of respect for an officer.

He extended the longsword from his shoulder threateningly.

"You really are fearless. Officer or not, there's only one of you... And captains are so common you trip over them in the street."

The subordinate beside him cautiously corrected him.

"Um, boss. Captain's a fairly high rank. Major comes right after it."

"Don't interrupt, you little shit!"

After shouting at him, the man pointed his longsword at AB. He surely knew what it meant to level a sword at someone, but he seemed unconcerned even when his target was an officer of the Military State.

"And so what if she's a captain? Can't a sword cut her? Or do bullets not work on her?"

Once again, his subordinate cautiously corrected him.

"Bullets won't work. At captain rank, learning at least bullet-repelling energy is one of the first things they do."

"You can't take a fucking hint! Hey, you go first!"

Angered at being corrected twice, the man pointed his sword at the subordinate beside him. Nearly stabbed, the subordinate shrank back in fright.

"W-what?"

"Even if bullets don't work, blades will! Go stab her! And hurry up and cut that bastard's belly open, too! Before the stuff goes bad!"

The man shouted, swinging his sword wildly. The other subordinates nearby began approaching AB as though driven forward.

Whether even a sheet of paper is easier to lift together was debatable, but fear and dread certainly grew lighter when shared. Reassured by the companions advancing beside them, the thugs gradually put more confidence into their steps.

Sensing their hostility, AB warned them in a low voice.

"Warning. You are engaging in threatening behavior toward a soldier of the Military State. Cease immediately. This is an order. If you disobey..."

But her clear, ringing voice posed little threat. The thugs snorted, growing bolder still.

"What are you going to do? Beat all of us by yourself?"

"Let's see if our oh-so-great officer's skin is knife-proof."

AB was in a predicament. She had never imagined they would attack despite recognizing her as an officer.

The Military State took even the murder of an ordinary citizen quite seriously. If word got out that criminals had attacked and killed an officer, it would immediately dispatch the military police, without the slightest reprieve or mercy.

A force authorized to unleash the Military State's might on its own citizens would carry out attacks that discriminated against certain citizens. However lawless these men were, they could not withstand it.

Yet they were threatening an officer without considering the consequences. Unless they intended to bring in the military police...

Surely not.

AB murmured,

"... Could that be the actual objective?"

No one answered her muttering. Each thug gripped a blade tightly as they walked toward her.

"Heh heh. I wonder if an officer's blood is the same color as ours..."

There were seven of them, all armed with blades. She could even sense traces of energy arts from the thin man who appeared to be their leader, though his level was not particularly high.

"Warning. Difficulty..."

Using a golem would be the rational way out of this predicament, but that would expose her identity as a communications officer. After that, only suicide would remain.

Should she fight at close quarters? But that would be like smashing an egg against a rock. AB was not a combat specialist professionally trained in energy arts.

Kill and die, or simply die.

Use a golem to defeat them and then take her own life, or fall at their hands here.

It was a matter that demanded lengthy consideration, but the moment of choice drew closer with every passing second. Beneath the faint glow of the streetlamps, blades flashed coldly.

Blue-edged blades that would punch holes in AB's body and spill her red life out...

Just as she made her decision and clenched her fist—

"You crazy fuckers!"

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

Dozens of people poured into the street. Without a word, they pounced on the thugs who had been about to attack AB. Caught by surprise, the thugs were swallowed by the crowd.

Screams and pandemonium. Then the repeated sounds of a beating.

Even men holding blades were helpless against the violence of sheer numbers. Especially when every member of that crowd carried a long weapon.

"Have you lost all sense of fear? First the magician, now an officer. You're stirring up every beehive in sight! If you want to get stung, go tap-dance naked in front of a hive! Don't go around poking at everything!"

A portly middle-aged man shouted from the front as he battered a thug. Flustered by the sudden attack, the scar-faced man raised his longsword high and charged him.

"You're the Market! Smugglers who don't know their fucking place...!"

The scar-faced man thrust, coating his sword in energy. An energy-clad blade that tore flesh and cleaved bone. Even the middle-aged man's ample body would not survive such a strike unscathed.

But he retreated with an agility at odds with his bulk. The blue-glowing sword tip narrowly passed before his nose.

"Eek! The rotten bastard's even swinging a sword at me!"

Making a great fuss, the middle-aged man produced a large iron crowbar with a split tip. He caught the man's sword in the split. The sequence was so natural that they might have rehearsed it together.

CLACK!

The blade caught in the crowbar's fork. Dismay crossed the scar-faced man's face.

The middle-aged man twisted his hand, and the trapped longsword flew free. Having disarmed his opponent through the principle of leverage, he brought the iron crowbar crashing down on him.

"You're the one who doesn't know his place! This is our turf, you bastard!"

CRACK!

The sound of breaking bone came from the scar-faced man's skull. Now his face bore a crowbar mark alongside his knife scar.

What he thought of this remained unknown, for the simple reason that he had lost consciousness.

His eyes rolled back, and his thin body collapsed to the ground.

"Baaastard. Nearly scared me to death..."

Panting heavily, the middle-aged man hurried straight over to AB. Before she could even become wary, he bowed low and rubbed his hands together in supplication, utterly meek.

"Oh, Captain. This doesn't represent the wishes of our whole district. Those fellows are the strange ones. They're lunatics who call themselves the Military State's Shadow. They run wild without a thought, and they're giving us no end of trouble, too..."

From AB's perspective, the group that had suddenly appeared and subdued the thugs was equally suspicious.

Unlike the thugs with their threatening blades, however, these newcomers mostly carried familiar objects such as crowbars and fire pokers. They could have blended into everyday life exactly as they were.

Perhaps the tools made the atmosphere feel less hostile. AB lowered her guard slightly and spoke.

"... Query. Who are you people?"

"Ah! I should have introduced myself first!"

Still making a fuss and sweating profusely, the middle-aged man introduced himself.

"Yes, yes. My name is Krin. I manage the shared distribution warehouse for the market merchants."

Markets needed goods brought in, and safely storing those goods required warehouses.

But this was a paradise for petty criminals. With no telling when a thief might appear, a warehouse and a single lock were hardly enough for peace of mind.

The market merchants had banded together to store and transport their goods safely. Delivery workers and laborers became involved as well, and the organization gradually grew into a power of its own.

"So, to put it simply, a merchants' association... No, not even that. We're merely people who guard the merchants' goods for them. Just warehouse keepers."

Krin spoke deferentially, but AB felt a flicker of familiarity at his name.

Krin. Manager. Market.

He had certainly mentioned those when he caught the pickpocket boy.

"... Manager Krin? Are you perhaps the head of an organization called the Market?"

Krin shook his head, practically foaming at the mouth.

"No, no! Head? Nothing of the sort! I'm just a figurehead! It's a sort of horizontal relationship, people united to protect the warehouse goods! As level as still water!"

Between his movements earlier and the energy arts he had displayed with the crowbar, he was clearly no ordinary man. Yet Krin persistently humbled himself, bowing over and over.

He merely cursed someone absent in a voice too quiet for anyone to hear.

"That magician bastard. What nonsense did he feed an officer...!"

There were any number of suspicious details, but AB did not press him. Learning energy arts or moving with extraordinary skill was not a crime.

"Understood. I have questions regarding this incident. Please cooperate."

"Of course! Isn't that the duty of a model citizen?"

Krin stood ramrod straight, awaiting her words. AB briefly organized her information, then asked what she most wanted to know.

"What is this Military State's Shadow?"

Krin answered as though he had been waiting for the question.

"A criminal organization that's recently appeared out of nowhere and started running wild in the Military State."

"A criminal organization? The Resistance, perhaps?"

"Oh, no. The Resistance at least pretends to ask citizens for cooperation. These people... They're simply outlaws."

"With the Military State's laws in place, how can outlaws roam so openly?"

Krin emphatically agreed with her question.

"That's exactly it. They've been giving us headaches, too. Lately they've been running wild everywhere, as though the law doesn't frighten them. Robbery, looting, arson, even murder. They travel in small groups committing every crime imaginable. It's left us in quite a bind."

"Have the authorities taken no particular action?"

"The Military State's been rather busy lately, hasn't it? They already carried out large-scale stop-and-search operations about three months ago, too. I suspect they haven't stepped in because the dust from that hasn't quite settled yet."

AB suddenly recalled three months earlier.

About three months ago, there had been a prison break at Tantalus. The moment she observed it, AB reported it directly to headquarters, and the homeland responded immediately. It declared nationwide martial law and launched sweeping inspections to recapture the escapees.

But the Tantalus escapees were nowhere to be found, as though they had vanished into the sky or beneath the earth. Instead, unlucky petty criminals had been arrested en masse.

"... That is a reasonable explanation."

Perhaps the current situation was a consequence of forcing through inspections when public order had not even deteriorated.

"Still, if it gets any worse, the higher-ups will step in and sort it out! Hahaha! Common folk like me can only put our faith in the people running the country!"

After laughing heartily, Krin lowered his voice and spoke insinuatingly.

"S-so, what I mean is... When you speak to your superiors later, please tell them our people are innocent. If we get hauled off because of those idiots, we'll be too aggrieved to do our hard labor."

His obsequious manner made it look very much like he was soliciting a favor. AB felt an instinctive aversion, but there was nothing objectionable about the actual request.

She nodded.

"Affirmative. Regarding this matter alone, I will report to my superiors if the opportunity arises."

"Oh! Thank you, thank you, Officer!"

The manager bowed politely, a thoroughly satisfied smile on his lips. But her next words froze that smile solid.

"My second question."

"Pardon? Second...?"

Krin's eyes trembled slightly, perhaps from dismay. Ignoring his reluctance, AB asked,

"Who exactly is the magician?"

Those calling themselves the Military State's Shadow were deliberately disrupting public order. Their conduct lacked a certain rationality.

Which meant a larger conspiracy lay beneath it.

AB had realized this through her instincts as a communications officer.

Then who was the magician who had hunted them?

"The magician? Ah, that. How should I put it?"

Watching her reactions all the while, Krin sweated profusely before replying.

"Haha. Well, it's just a general term for the performers you see around the back alleys. People who run shell games, shuffle cards strangely during card games, put on puppet shows, or surprise people with sleight of hand. People who do those sorts of things."

"Do such people still remain?"

"Oh, hardly any. We call them magicians, but they're really much like swindlers or cardsharps. With the country in good order, how could scum like that roam about? Nearly all of them are gone. Nearly all."

Waving his hands, Krin raised his eyes slightly and asked a question. For an instant, his raccoon-like eyes gleamed with worldly cunning.

"But why are you looking for the magician...?"

AB answered truthfully.

"The man who collapsed before me just now mentioned someone called the magician."

"... Is that all?"

At his question, AB turned her head sharply and demanded,

"You. This is a warning. If you know anything further, provide your testimony immediately. If you do not cooperate, I will have no choice but to consider you a suspect as well."

Her challenge startled Krin.

"Oh, no, no. What have I done?"

"How did you come to be here?"

Meek once more, Krin glanced around as though afraid someone might overhear, then answered quietly.

"Actually, I came because the magician summoned me, too. He said those fellows had appeared in our district and told me to catch them."

AB nodded and pointed out incisively,

"So 'the magician' refers to an individual. Confirmed."

"... Haha."

Krin laughed awkwardly, apparently intent on saying no more. AB nodded and looked around.

While the two spoke, the Market's merchants had been tidying the area. As though organizing merchandise, they bound the fallen men, collected dropped objects, and erased traces of the brawl. Before she knew it, the street was clean.

"Leave the cleanup to us. We'll handle it properly."

"Hand them over to the police. They must be punished under military law."

"Naturally."

"I will notify the police officer responsible for this district. Be advised that you are not permitted to impose private punishment."

"... Naturally."

AB walked away, leaving them behind.

The Shadow, the magician, and the Military State.

She was a soldier loyal to the Military State, and a communications officer who would soon have to die.

During the brief reprieve she had left, eliminating this 'Shadow' and uncovering the magician's identity would be her final act of loyalty to the Military State.

And making the Military State safer would be a gift for Anna and Hughes.

Starting tomorrow, she would be busy. AB strode steadily down the street.

Once she disappeared into the darkness, Krin, who had kept his head bowed, clicked his tongue and straightened up.

"... I've done my part, magician. Fucking bastard drops in out of nowhere and makes me do this ridiculous shit."

A few hours earlier, Krin had encountered 'him,' seemingly materialized in the heart of the Market.

Had the Market's headquarters not been a secret space built in the middle of a huge distribution warehouse, and had the way to open it not been known only to Krin's closest associates, he might have offered the man a somewhat warmer welcome.

In other words, Krin had not welcomed him at all.

The magician had been leisurely reading through the records of contraband the Market kept carefully hidden. When Krin returned, he greeted him as though he owned the place.

In that instant, Krin knew instinctively that he would be threatened and made to dance in the magician's palm.

His intuition proved astonishingly accurate.

["There's some trash in this district. I've seasoned it nicely for you, so why don't you go clean it up?"]

Krin immediately gathered his forces and set out.

Attack the magician? Krin was not a man to take that kind of gamble. No one knew the magician's true strength, and besides, there was no way to beat a magician at gambling in the first place.

And...

"Let the lunatics fight each other. No reason for me to get involved."

The Military State's Shadow was a peculiar organization with unfathomable aims. It even showed a somewhat self-destructive streak.

Inevitably, it would come into conflict with the magician. Every time the two clashed, blood would flow in the back alleys.

Who would win was uncertain, but Krin knew how past conflicts in the back alleys had ended.

The Mountain-Shattering Boxer, the Iron-Cleaving Sword, Firelow.

All those who had clashed with the magician had met their deaths.

The magician had not killed them, but he was always the one who survived.

How would it turn out this time?

"Ah, who knows. Let them handle it. I just need to do my job."

As Krin grumbled, his head a tangle of thoughts, one of his employees pointed at the corpse that had died foaming at the mouth.

"Manager! What do we do with the corpse that shits gold?"

According to the magician, the corpse's stomach contained a rare spice nicknamed 'sprinkling gold dust.' Selling it would bring a tidy profit.

But Krin waved his hand emphatically.

"Just bury him. Touch that stuff and you'll bring bad luck on yourself."

"What a waste."

"Shut up. How do you know he was telling the truth? Even if he was, how are we supposed to sell something that's been through someone's stomach? Just think of it as stepping in shit."

"All right."

Clicking his tongue, the employee wrapped the corpse in a cloth and muttered,

"Tch. Lucky bastard. At least you won't be short of travel money in the afterlife."

"Bury the bastard and write 'The man with the most expensive cause of death in history' on his headstone. His name might go down in history."

With that offhand remark, Krin took out a cigarette made from mana herbs. Its red ember stood out on the street lit only by dim lamps.

He exhaled a deep sigh along with a plume of mana-herb smoke. Beneath the hazy streetlight, the rising whitish smoke looked just like a degraded sun and clouds.

Mana herbs, the reason the timid Krin had taken up smuggling, soothed his weary heart and gave his life meaning once again today.

As he savored this small happiness, another employee spoke to him.

"Smoking again? You'll ruin your health."

"I'm balancing things out, you little shit. My body's too healthy compared to my mind."

Taking another deep drag of mana herbs, Krin gazed with hazy eyes at the considerably cleaner street and murmured,

"We'll have to keep our heads down for a while. All hell's going to break loose."

The Shadow, the magician, and now an officer. The situation was snowballing.

Krin had weathered hardship time and again, but he found it difficult to imagine how this affair would end.

The night was as deep as his sigh.