In the time that followed, Gai introduced the remaining key members of Funeral Parlor one by one. After a brief regrouping, he led the survivors back toward their underground base within the quarantine zone.
—Phew.
Sitting in the back seat of the jeep, Inori Yuzuriha suddenly felt the weight of exhaustion settle over her. From the moment she had leapt off the building to now, she had used King Crimson at least five times—and that wasn't counting the split-second Time Erasures she'd triggered on reflex to dodge bullets. Add to that the distance she'd run, the GHQ soldiers she'd killed… even with King Crimson handling the mechanics of it all, the fatigue was real and undeniable. There was even the faint hollow ache of hunger stirring somewhere in her stomach. If only she could have a warm bite of Hare Menjou's midnight cooking right now… she'd give anything.
This was probably what Endurance E felt like in practice—the physical body growing hungry after sustained exertion.
Tonight she would stay with Funeral Parlor. Better to get a sense of the organization from the inside. And if her hazy memory served her, there would likely be another fight tomorrow—the Anti-Bodies, the viral countermeasures bureau operating under GHQ, might send units here to sweep the area. In the original story, Gai's plan was to use that moment: to leverage the power of a Void and smash the GHQ main force in a direct confrontation, then declare Funeral Parlor's existence to the world in front of every camera available, complete with that over-the-top, delightfully theatrical manifesto of his.
She rested her head lightly against the car window and closed her eyes to doze.
The jeep shuddered along the uneven road. Through the grime-clouded glass, she caught her own reflection staring back—and behind her, the face of King Crimson.
—Heh. You couldn't have seen this coming, could you, Gai? While you're burning yourself out over some so-called "Diavolo," he's already planted himself inside your own ranks. And when you finally find Mana's soul after all that struggle… she'll become the key to awakening my Epitaph. Just imagining the look on Gai Tsutsugami's face in that moment—sheer, dawning horror—it's enough to make me practically vibrate with excitement. I, Inori, am going to become a dual-souled queen…!
"Inori."
"What?"
Inori surfaced from her thoughts, though she didn't bother lifting her head from the window. She gazed at Gai where he sat in the front passenger seat, diagonal from her.
"You were rescued from GHQ by Diavolo. That's right, isn't it?"
He had apparently been unable to suppress the urge to ask. Gai made it sound like an idle remark, a casual thing.
"I don't know."
Inori played dumb.
"You don't have to be so guarded with me. I can speak honestly with you."
"Hmph."
Inori answered with a quiet, dismissive sound. She understood perfectly well that Gai's sincerity wasn't directed at her—it was aimed at Mana Ouma.
"I have no memories of the past. Diavolo gave me everything—including my name."
"He is the most important person in my life. If you're trying to drive a wedge between us, you can give it up."
She meant it. Without King Crimson, she had no idea what she would have become by now.
"A year and a half ago, I received intelligence that the GHQ's Anti-Bodies were secretly preparing an artificial human experiment."
"I followed the lead, traced it down, eventually breached the facility—but found no test subject. That subject was most likely you. If not for Diavolo, you and I might have already been working together quite well."
He turned to look at her from the front seat, a faint smile on his face.
Gai was choosing his words carefully—deliberately omitting everything about Mana. But it was meaningless to Inori. She had mapped out the emotional tangle between all three of them long ago, and she even knew the special name Gai had gone by before.
Hm. What if one day Inori parted her hair down the middle and went to find Gai, called him "Triton"—what would his reaction be? He'd probably throw himself at her sobbing, crying "Mana." Heh. It'd be funny, in its own way. But far too dangerous. Inori would never do something so reckless.
"Well, thank you so very much~"
"Diavolo—does he have an armed organization behind him as well? Something like ours?"
—There it is. That's what he actually wanted to ask. Soften things up first, get her to lower her guard, then drop the real question as though it just slipped out. You're still a little too green, Gai.
"We haven't known each other long—but let me offer you some advice, Gai." Inori looked at him directly, her voice level and quiet.
"Don't try to investigate Diavolo's true identity. His methods are cruel."
"…"
It wasn't advice. It was a warning, delivered so plainly it barely bothered to disguise itself.
And yet, coming from Inori—the girl who was always so unhurried, so carelessly at ease—this sudden, absolute seriousness created a pressure that had no right to exist. Even when the bridge had been swarming with Endlaves, Inori hadn't worn an expression like this.
"Don't do anything foolish, Gai."
"…I'll keep that in mind."
Gai turned back to face the road.
It was rare for him to find himself genuinely fascinated by someone. But this "Diavolo"—in all honesty—was the most impossible man Gai had ever encountered. Beyond a name, he was a solid wall of black fog, impenetrable and seamless. And even the name might be false.
What will become of Funeral Parlor, going forward…
...
...
A short while later, inside Funeral Parlor's base.
The location was remote, and many of the surrounding roads had been cut off by collapsed walls and rubble—ordinary people would struggle to find it at all. For an organization like theirs, not having to live underground was something close to genuine luck.
Everyone was exhausted. Gai arranged a rotation of sentries, then went to rest himself—and had Ayase escort Inori to the room that had been set aside for her.
Ayase moved ahead of Inori, propelling her wheelchair slowly down the corridor under her own power. Inori had offered to push; Ayase had declined, politely but without hesitation—entirely predictable. Ayase was, in every respect, a girl who pushed herself to manage alone. And the harder she pushed, the more clearly it spoke to the fragility underneath.
"This is it."
Ayase produced a key and opened the door. Inori hadn't seen a key lock like this in a long time—something you only really encountered out in the quarantine zones.
"Not bad."
Inori looked around, taking in the layout, and gave a small, satisfied nod.
Compact, but complete. A simple wooden bed, a desk, a wardrobe. A private bathroom and shower. There was even a small kitchenette tucked into one corner—the range hood looked like it hadn't been touched in some time, greased over with neglect—but still, this was essentially a private suite's worth of consideration.
"Perfume? Who was staying here before?"
Inori caught a faint, lingering fragrance and looked up.
"An older-sister figure in our group." Ayase's expression dimmed. "She was killed in action a month ago. During an operation." She paused. "Gai still sends someone every week to dust the room."
Inori nodded, and said nothing more. The room held all the small evidence of a girl who had once called this space her own: light-blue bed sheets, an activity planner stuck to the wall with cheerful little stickers, a pink-toned pencil cup and desk lamp, and on the windowsill, a potted plant that had long since gone dry.
"Are you sure?"
Inori lifted the edge of the clean cover and sat down on the bed. The fitted fabric of her leggings pressed into the soft mattress.
"Letting me stay here—you were very fond of her, weren't you, Ayase."
"It's alright." Ayase shook her head, and forced a small smile. "A room is meant to be lived in. And for such a beautiful girl to be living in it…" A trace of something quiet moved through her voice. "She would have been happy, I think. She had a very particular dislike of rough, untidy men barging in."
"Then I'll gratefully accept."
Inori didn't refuse. But even as she settled in, there was one problem that had become rather pressing. Ayase braced herself, ready to hear whatever request the newcomer had—only for the girl's cheeks to color slightly, her expression shifting to something almost shy.
"Ayase. Do you have anything to eat?"