Time passed without mercy.
Gathering scrap, modifying the bus, and at the same time resolving that subtle conflict... it was an exasperating stretch of time for everyone.
Ah, though "everyone" isn't quite right. Mr. Otis, for one, never so much as flinched through it all.
"Hey! If you connect it like that, you'll cause a problem on the intake side!"
"Then what am I supposed to do?! The line's split into three already..."
"How frustrating. I'll demonstrate it myself. Hmph, compared to when I was directing operations with the engineering corps..."
The moment the topic touched workshop work, he sprang to life like a fish returned to water.
He really is unexpectedly useful all the time.
While some Sinners ignored that atmosphere entirely...
there was also someone who went in the complete opposite direction and stepped forward to help reconcile Mr. Heathcliff and Ms. Ishmael.
"Miss Faust, might the Sinners' personal records include notes on their preferences or tastes?"
"...We do not document such things. Mr. Yi Sang, as I have already told you several times, the proper course of action is to prioritize the Manager's judgment..."
Especially Mr. Yi Sang, whose frequency of questions to Ms. Faust had increased dramatically of late.
I'd like to think that would lead somewhere, but...
Usually, that was when a thoroughly drunk Ms. Olga would come in.
"Heh-heh~ There's nothing better than liquor when you're trying to make up after a fight. Here, want me to bring out my secret stash?"
"You mean... that crab-brain liquor you've been talking about since last time?"
"Oh... that actually sounds kind of tempting to me too."
After a conversation between hopeless people continued for a while...
"N-no... no. I'll ask them myself. I appreciate the thought."
"Doesn't seem likely~"
It was routine for the conversation to end on a negative note.
And sometimes...
"Saramago, do you happen to know anything about the two of them's tastes or preferences?"
Even I, who got along with the two of them fairly well, would get asked that sort of question.
Every time, all I could do was honestly shake my head.
What else happened... ah!
There were also people trying to make the crab, that default survival-grade grotesque food, taste a little better.
An unexpectedly strange pairing: Ms. Ryoshu and Mr. Meursault.
"Mo. re."
"No, here, it should be mo. re."
"Tch... hm? Oh-ho... yes. Trying that while the breath is still in them would be a new direction in pursuing art."
"...That was not a suggestion to inflict more pain. I was merely speaking of the proper direction for cooking."
Well... there were people suffering because of it.
The people at the K Corp Center, led by Ms. Mika, for instance.
"Um... when are we going to eat dinner? You've been having that conversation for thirty minutes already..."
"Rain... I'm dying... I can hear the crabs crying in my stomach..."
"Ma'am, you need to pull yourself together..."
One day, they looked so miserable that I went into the pantry and handed out a few snacks.
Little things to nibble on, or something that could pass as a meal...
"Here, if you're having a hard time, eat a little. It's not much, but..."
"Rain... I think I'm dead... there's an angel in front of me..."
"I'm very much a person, ma'am. I'm still alive."
Even a light bite would be enough to take the edge off their hunger.
That was part of why I'd stocked up on food in advance.
...Though about half of it had already gone into Ms. Rodion's mouth.
Maybe I should've bought more. Though honestly, I'd already bought quite a lot. Ms. Rodion's appetite was more than I expected...
Well, let's move on.
The crab hunt was progressing far more smoothly than I'd expected too.
Even when I was sitting beside Dante during another rest brought on by my condition worsening...
"Kids! It's gonna fly that way!"
"Kid~"
Splat!
"Gwaaah!"
"No! Now then, Mr. Sinclair! Please finish it off!"
"Mr. Gregor! I'll take the left leg!"
"Got it~ Hyah!"
They were already showing off some semblance of teamwork, as if they'd grown used to it.
When had we started cooperating properly like this...?
Most of the Sinners were absorbed in their own little routines.
Ms. Ishmael...
"......"
Knock knock knock.
"Are you in there?"
"......"
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Every time I went to her room, all I heard was the sound of metal being sharpened, or the sound of something being written. She never gave me any response at all.
I would stand in front of that room for about ten minutes every day...
"......"
"...Go away. I have nothing to say."
"...I'll come again tomorrow."
"......"
After the eviction notice came down, I would turn and leave.
...It would've been nice if she'd at least talked a little.
Always feeling that way, I'd return to where the Sinners were gathered.
"......"
Today, the Sinners were huddled together, grilling crab and eating it. Come to think of it, was it mealtime?
Lately, we'd been getting by more and more on the food we'd stockpiled, so I'd lost track of time.
...Wait, Mr. Gregor, isn't that burning?
"Wow~ Mr. Gregor, are you putting on a fire show for us?"
"Cicada. Wrap it more flamboyantly."
"N-no! That's just burning!"
At Sinclair's shout, Mr. Meursault reacted instantly.
"I removed it. It seems to have already lost its function as food, however."
"G-give it to me! I've only managed to eat three legs so far!"
Don Quixote really did have an impressive appetite. Asking for a leg that had been burned to a crisp.
That can't be good for her health. Though I suppose if she's happy, that's that...
I worried for a moment, but Don Quixote shoved the leg into her mouth and made it disappear before I could do anything. She was fast.
Amid the usual chaos continuing as always, Mr. Yi Sang, who had been staring intently in the direction I'd come from, suddenly widened his eyes.
"...Ah! Mr. Heathcliff!"
Mr. Heathcliff?
Startled, I turned around, and there he was—Mr. Heathcliff, looking utterly drained of strength.
"......"
"Heathcliff...?"
"Ah, what. That is, um... I went to talk with the guide, that man. I'm... fine now."
He looked far too weak for that to be true.
Seeing that he was clearly in no state to be called fine, Ms. Rodion carefully asked Mr. Heathcliff, "A talk...? Right?"
"...Ugh. A-anyway! I'll... make sure not to cause any trouble... That's all. So... give me one too."
...Yeah, let's make absolutely sure I never get interviewed.
If Mr. Heathcliff ended up like that, then... no matter how you looked at it, it wasn't something a person should have to endure.
In any case, with Mr. Heathcliff joining in, the meal grew even rowdier...
And by the time it wound down, night had already fallen.
"......"
Maybe I should go to sleep. Staying awake too long in this condition would be stupid.
If I misjudged the time somehow... I might end up in some bizarre misfortune.
Following that line of thought, as I was heading toward my room...
a deep voice came from behind me.
"Saramago, do you have a moment?"
"...Mr. Vergilius? What's the matter at this hour..."
"I'd like to have a brief conversation. If you have time, I'd appreciate your cooperation."
"......"
"Hmm... come along."
What is it? Why are you being so scary? I haven't caused any trouble!
"Ah, don't worry. I'm not calling you in for an interview or anything."
Huh.
"...Yes, sir."
And so, somehow, I ended up following him.
*
Creeeak...
The sound of the door opening welcomed me into a room I'd never seen before.
So this is Mr. Vergilius's office...
"Sit down. Would you like some tea?"
"...Ah, yes. Black tea, please."
Mr. Vergilius steeped a black tea bag in hot water from the cabinet and slid it in front of me.
Hm... if my former coworker had seen this, she'd have found every possible fault with it. She was that obsessed with black tea.
Anyway.
"So, what did you call me here for?"
"You're asking for the main point? Then I won't refuse. By chance, do you know anything about the Library?"
...Why is he asking me that?
"I thought that, given your background, you might know something unusual."
"......"
"Is that not so? ...Observer."
"...I don't remember ever saying that in front of you."
"Let's just say I have my ways of knowing."
Had he heard it from Ms. Faust? Even most Wings wouldn't know that information.
No, could Limbus Company possibly...
"There's no need to be so afraid. The higher-ups don't know."
"What on earth... no, never mind. Even if you ask me like that, I don't have anything I can tell you. It's been quite a while since I quit."
"...I see."
"I don't have any memories or anything like that right now anyway. If you're curious, should I open it up and show you? If I opened up my brain, you might see something."
"I'll pass. I don't have the hobby of opening other people's heads."
"If we're talking about the Library specifically... I do have a few things I can guess at, but it's all too speculative. I can't say for sure."
"......"
"...It's been nearly ten years since I quit, after all. Even if I was from the Observer side, I'm just an ordinary person now."
...Leaving aside whether I could really be called an ordinary person at this point.
"If that's all you wanted to talk about, I should head back. My condition's been pretty bad lately."
"...Do so."
"Then, good night."
I set down the teacup, emptied to the last drop, and headed out of the room.
"...Wait."
"Do you still have something to say?"
"If any more of your memories return... I'll call for you again."
"......"
How did he know that?
"...Aren't you a little too sharp?"
"You're not so different yourself, are you?"
"Ha, can't deny that. Ah, since I just remembered, may I ask—did the interview go well?"
"You mean about Ishmael? Then... I wouldn't say it was resolved."
Not resolved, huh.
If there had been some problem with the interview or something...
Maybe he noticed my expression shifting in complicated ways, because Mr. Vergilius quickly added, "More precisely, I'd say there was no need to resolve it."
"...Thank you for the answer. Have a good night."
So that's why they call him the Sight. Impressive.
With the uncomfortable feeling that my insides had been laid bare throughout the entire conversation, I left his office.
Haa... Ishmael's condition, and my own condition now... I've got a lot to think about.
As I walked, I suddenly stopped and fell into deep thought.
...Perhaps it was contemplation, or reflection, or maybe even an attempt at整理.
And so, after about ten minutes, standing there motionless, I eventually arrived at a conclusion.
Yeah. Let's just sleep.
What's the point of agonizing over things that won't produce an answer even if I think about them now?
Get some proper rest! Think again after I wake up tomorrow!
Sometimes a person has to live like Mr. Heathcliff.
Though if I had to live like that all the time, I'd pass.
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