A cramped studio apartnt. Clara Magal listened to Felix's story.
"It started with hospital bills. The 5,000 Livres we urgently needed for my mother's surgery... Last week, was it, Lorraine? When that Social Party politician got caught gambling illegally, a single chip was worth 5,000 Livres, so, well, anyway."
He continued in a voice that sounded already worn down, laying bare his deepest wounds.
"The banks completely turned their backs on our family. Said we had no collateral and no proper employnt. In the end, my father turned to loan sharks."
A story all too common, and all the more despairing for it.
5,000 Livres. Starting from a trivial sum, the interest ballooned by ten percent every week. Unpaid interest was added back to the principal, returning as vicious compound debt.
In just a few months, the debt had grown to 50,000 Livres, and a year later, it had beco an astronomical figure that strangled the life out of his family.
In the end, his mother took her own life, consud by guilt that her treatnt had brought the family to ruin, and his father, drowning in despair at having failed to protect his family, chose the sa path just one week later.
"...That was exactly ten years ago. Nothing particularly special about it."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Clara gazed steadily at Felix. Felix t her eyes squarely in return. Rage and murderous intent lurked in those pupils.
"Nothing special, but more than enough reason for
to be furious at this country. I believe Prozen is broken."
Clara raised an eyebrow. A gesture telling him to go on.
"Under the fine-sounding na of republic, an incompetent governnt that stands by while foreigners and parasites bleed its own citizens dry."
Precise words, carried on a pleasant voice.
Clara quietly closed her eyes.
Was his anger the sa kind as hers? She couldn't be certain yet.
"I despise them. The Ezenheim, especially. Those cockroaches."
He had a clear and personal cause.
...
The next day, late in the evening.
Clara Magal visited a jewelry shop in Prozen's Malé District. She had co to exchange the Mana Stone Felix had offered as his mbership fee, but.
"...50,000 Livres?"
She repeated the figure, incredulous.
"That's right."
The proprietor set down his monocle, the wrinkles on his face shifting. Clara's brow furrowed.
"Even at a glance, this is worth over 200,000. Are you ssing with ?"
"Then go sell it sowhere that'll give you 200,000."
The proprietor smirked and pushed the Mana Stone back across the counter.
"If you want a fair price, start by telling
where you got it."
"..."
"Or go ask sowhere else. See what they'll give you. You'll be lucky if they don't report you to the police."
Clara clenched both fists inside her pocket??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????s.
"...60,000."
"40,000."
"What the hell, you just said 50,000 a second ago!"
"You couldn't give
a proper answer to my question, could you."
He flashed a crooked grin. Gold teeth glinted behind his twisted lips.
"The item has no verified provenance. That ans I'm taking on a considerable risk, so that's a 10,000 markdown."
Should I kill this son of a bitch? Should I plant my fist right in his face?
All manner of thoughts flashed through her mind, but she barely managed to swallow her breath.
"...Give it here."
She held out her hand instead. In the end, she walked away with 40,000 Livres in cash.
"Filthy Ezenheim bastard."
She muttered under her breath as she left the shop.
Skin pale to the point of ghostly, a hooked nose. Above all, near these back alleys lay an Ezenheim enclave. The way they clustered together, just like cockroaches.
"What? Hey! What did you just say!"
The proprietor twisted his face into a nacing scowl and moved to co out from behind the counter, but Clara broke into a run and made it back to the university.
"..."
In front of the Crystal Society's clubroom at Prozen National University.
[Dumbass pieces of shit]
[Get the hell out of this school]
[You fucking Imperial lapdog vermin]
[Scum like you don't deserve to breathe]
[Spies, just fuck off already, please]
The door was plastered with graffiti laced wi??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????th every curse imaginable. Clara clenched her teeth.
"Freedom only for the things you want, is it."
She opened the door and went inside. The mbers were lying on bedding spread across the floor.
For them, this cramped clubroom was ho, bedroom, and holand.
"...Ah, Chief. You're back?"
A mber rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"What the hell happened to the door? Why'd you just leave it like that?"
She jerked her chin toward the vandalized exterior door.
"...There were quite a few of them."
The mber scratched the back of his neck, glancing at her nervously.
Ugh. Clara let out a sigh. She slumped onto the sofa and sank into deep thought.
"By the way, Chief, can we trust that guy?"
"Not sure yet. For now... let's keep watching a little longer."
Clara pulled a wad of bills from inside her jacket. The mber's eyes lit up.
"And let's use this to find a new office first. This clubroom is far too small for the scale of our cause."
* * *
──Exploring Prozen, Day 4.
Before my Regression, the events had unfolded as follows.
1. Yursled Pri Minister Bernard arrives at Prozen's First Harbor aboard a warship.
2. Minister Marceau greets him, and together they board a vehicle heading toward the capital's parliant.
3. On Cor Boulevard, packed with the escort procession and cheering crowds, an assassin attempts a bombing.
4. However, the explosion fails, and the perpetrator draws a pistol to open fire but is shot dead on the spot.
For that reason, I visited Cor Boulevard without missing a single day.
They say the criminal always returns to the scene of the cri, and the reverse holds just as true.
Before carrying out the deed, the perpetrator has no choice but to visit the site in advance, calculating every variable for the perfect scenario.
"Please show up tomorrow."
I don't have ti.
No, it isn't just . Every living, breathing human on this continent is in the sa position.
The Ezenheim are not human, and the countdown to annihilation is already ticking.
...
──Exploring Prozen, Day 5.
Today, as usual, I wandered the boulevard near the site.
I ate a sandwich, had Prozen-style cuisine at a restaurant, fed the pigeons, gave so spare change to beggars, and then, in that mont.
Thump─
My heart pulsed unpleasantly.
Thump─
I turned my gaze and stared sowhere.
Thump─
On a bench in the park, a man sat. A lean figure in a gray coat. Shifting his eyes around with feigned indifference as he surveyed his surroundings, and, most suspiciously, reading yesterday's newspaper. Presumably receiving instructions...
Thump─
My heart reacted to him.
mories from the past surfaced in my mind.
[ Attempted Assassination on Prozen Defense Minister and Yursled Pri Minister ]
[ The perpetrator, killed at the scene, was identified as Thomas, an Empire-born radical... ]
[ ...Prozen Pri Minister demands formal explanation from the Empire. ]
Thomas.
A photograph rendered in black-and-white ink.
That face overlapped with the face of the Ezenheim sitting over there now.
"...Ha."
A hollow chuckle leaked out. The gaps in that attempted assassination from before my Regression reassembled themselves. Perfectly pieced together.
They never intended for the assassination to succeed in the first place.
"..."
It was never an assassination from the start. It was an operation designed to fail.
I reviewed the events that would unfold.
The assassin throws a bomb at the vehicle carrying the Prozen minister and the Yursled pri minister. But the assassination fails, the perpetrator is killed at the scene, and the corpse is mangled beyond any hope of autopsy. Yet circumstantial evidence pointing to the Empire as the mastermind is discovered one piece after another.
As a result, the leadership of both Yursled and Prozen accelerates their military alliance against the Empire.
"Now it all makes sense."
Just then, the assassin rose from his seat.
I tailed him. The sun hung high overhead. Moving along the boulevard crowded with citizens, he arrived at a certain neighborhood.
Thump─ Thump─ Thump─
My heart churned in turmoil. It wasn't one. It wasn't two. It wasn't three, either.
Here, a multitude of Ezenheim had nested.
I looked at the signpost.
[Malé District]
I'd heard of it. The Ezenheim enclave.
"..."
In silence, I stared at it, then quietly turned away.
The plan had changed.
From "help the assassination succeed
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