Nearly seven hours later...
The police cordon had been lifted, but the search for the perpetrator continued.
"...This concludes our special report on the shocking mass murder right in the heart of Concord. During these difficult tis, the KPD asks that you remain calm and rember that your safety is always our priority."
The muffled sound from the TV screen echoed through the old mansion on the outskirts of Norwich.
"Ha..." The dim light of a gloomy morning fell on the man’s face and his gray stubble. He sighed barely audibly and, soundlessly... wept.
"Once again, we ask you to remain calm and rember the suspect’s key identifying features: a bloodstained white shirt, a severely disfigured face, burned on the left side, and, presumably, an implant on his arm. This concludes our ergency broadcast. Next on the program... Will the Peak of Solitude get through this ti? Or everything about the upcoming planetary alignnt and eclipse..."
"...Monsieur Salieri?" Interrupting the report, a voice suddenly rang out from the balcony. "I heard you wanted to et with ."
"Y-you...?" The man jumped up from the sofa in shock, nearly waking the woman lying next to him.
An unidentified figure suddenly appeared behind the dim curtains on the third-floor balcony.
He wore a dark hooded cloak, a wide black hat, and a bandage covering most of his face. It seed as though this person was desperately trying to hide his appearance.
"Y-you... Nobody. It really is you."
"..." He nodded.
"I-I didn’t even expect you to co so soon..."
"It was convenient. Your house was on my route, so I decided to stop by."
"O-oh, I’m sorry, it’s just that I..." The man rubbed his face with his fist and suddenly bowed. "First of all... thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
"...It’s all right. I’m just doing my job."
Mr. Nobody saw the man’s legs trembling, but he kept bowing anyway.
Tears fell in heavy drops onto the floor.
"N-no, it’s... What you did... Y-you... Y-you have no idea what that ant to us."
"..."
The man kept wiping his face, but the tears fell onto the floor even harder.
"I-it... T-their punishnt... I-it ant everything to us. E-everything... B-because it’s... I-it’s..."
"...The only thing we had left."
"..."
"I know."
...
"Your children? They look wonderful." Mr. Nobody examined the holographic photograph with two crossed-out figures in the center. "And next to them, it looks like... Sexy Bomb and Super Marty."
"Yes, that’s... them. The kids idolized them for years. They dread of being like them and standing together on the sa stage. They were just over the moon when they got to Bengou’s first big concert... And after that, they never ca back the sa."
"I’m sorry, Monsieur Salieri. I really am."
"D-did they suffer?" The man leaning on his cane turned to him with a sudden question. "I want to know if that bitch and that... that monster suffered."
"It seems that’s the reason you wanted to talk to ?"
"To be honest... I just wanted to talk about it with soone. Keeping it all inside would have eaten alive, and this ti it wouldn’t just be my legs giving out."
"Well, I suppose you’ve already heard sothing on the news or at least in embellished rumors. But the reality was far worse, Monsieur Salieri." He gave a dry chuckle. "That silly Sexy Bomb. If my mory serves right, she was forced to eat her own heart. Even in hell, that would seem like a nightmare."
"A H-h-heart...?"
"And Super Marty... Ah-ha-ha." He chuckled softly, cupping his hand over his mouth. "He was far less fortunate. I think if I told you the details, you’d never be able to sleep properly again... But know this: before he died, a real devil played with him. Perhaps the worst of all devils."
"...I see. Thank you. Truly."
...
A children’s room covered in Bengou morabilia.
A boy and a girl in wheelchairs, with empty eyes, stared blankly at the two adult figures.
"Are you saying that if we take sothing away or ruin it, the children will be upset?"
"Yes. I-I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but..." The man picked up one of the figurines depicting Super Marty and raised his fist above it. At that very mont, the girl’s hand began to rise, and her face contorted. "It’s always like this. If I were to break it, she’d break down crying until she lost consciousness."
"...It’s awful."
Mr. Nobody approached the children and looked into their faces. Then he circled them slowly, carefully examining their bodies.
"What do you think, Paymax? Is there anything we can do?" he asked the bracelet quietly.
"You know perfectly well that even I cannot study the black ice phenonon. At this stage of research, we can only speculate about the drug’s effects on humans, but not about treatnts... And even those speculations are mostly based on your unique experience with black ice in the Pit."
"What could help them? Any theory."
"If you put it that way... A miracle comparable to resurrection. That’s how I see it."
"...I see."
"..." At that mont, the girl’s vacant gaze, looking up from below, began to cause a lingering pain.
’A miracle comparable to resurrection... If I had advanced along the Path to the level of the other Champions, would I have been able to do sothing about this? If I... truly were the Champion of Dream.’
"..." The children looked at him with the sa emptiness.
Most likely, even if he summoned his miracle— the little star—it wouldn’t matter to them.
It was like a curse that had broken their souls, a plague that had poisoned their blood, or a tumor in their heads that was...
"Monsieur Salieri? Could you give that figurine?"
"Mm, sure... Just don’t break it."
Mr. Nobody twirled the Super Marty figurine in his hand a bit, then handed it to the girl.
"What’s her na?"
"Monique... The boy’s na is Thomas. What do you want to do?"
"Just checking sothing. Nothing harmful."
He took off his hat and then pulled a peculiar strand of hair.
Placing it in his palm, he shaped it until it resembled an ordinary toothpick.
"Monique, don’t look at , look at the figurine." He crouched down in front of the girl.
"...?" Her father stood nearby, watching the scene in confusion.
Of course, the girl didn’t react, so he had to gently tilt her head himself.
At that mont, he took the silver toothpick in his left hand and brought it up to her forehead.
"..." He closed his eyes.
All that was left was to act just like last ti, when he killed Sexy Bomb. Only now he didn’t need to cut, extract, or remove anything—just...
Just... sothing to adjust. To change. To guide.
*Prick...* The sharp tip gently touched the girl’s forehead.
"..." Monique blinked.
Mr. Nobody let go of her head, but... She kept staring at the figurine.
"W-what...?" ca the man’s stunned whisper.
A couple of seconds passed in silence, and then...
*Drip...* A tiny drop fell onto the figurine’s face.
It was... her tear.
Another followed, and then another, until...
*Crack!* Monique’s fragile fingers snapped the Super Marty figurine in half.
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