“So that’s why you were investigating the cemetery.”
“Right. Whisper was a bomber who operated from the graveyard. Even if the scent of gunpowder faded for most, you’d notice it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but… what if he changed his methods?”
“Then we’d just expand the investigation.”
Shrugging, Lonzder exhaled a plume of smoke.
“Detective work is a tedious pile of small observations. The excitement comes when they click together and reveal the truth—but getting there is mostly wasted effort.”
“Hah. I don’t get the impression Norman-sama works like that.”
“His process is different from mine.”
“Oh?”
“Like I said, my reasoning is built on facts and statistics. I sift through evidence and pick the most probable conclusion.”
Then, she added:
“Norman ignores probability altogether. His ‘deductions’ are more like intuition—based on the assumption of ‘What would cause the most trouble if it were true?’”
“Incredible… To arrive at the truth through sheer instinct—as expected of Norman-sama!”
“Instinct is just subconscious experience, so… I suppose that’s not entirely wrong, but—”
“Ah. Lonzder-san.”
“———Whisper?”
“No. But stop twenty steps ahead.”
“Understood.”
As instructed, the two halted after twenty steps.
The path forked left and right—but the right side was…
“Collapsed and flooded.”
Piles of rubble and broken tiles covered the ground, and the floor had caved in, leaving standing water.
Even when she raised the lantern, the bottom wasn’t visible. It was deep.
“Is this why it’s sealed off?”
“Yeah. There are multiple catacomb beneath the city. Most are crumbling from age, either collapsed or flooded.”
“Flooded? There’s that much water under Balldlum? There’s a lake, but…”
“The lake feeds a river that cuts through the city. Groundwater seeps from there. Rumor has it there’s even an underground lake. Too acidic for drinking, though—most citizens don’t even know it exists.”
“Huh. You really do know everything.”
“Comes with the job. I researched everything I could when I first arrived.”
Lonzder let out a sigh and flicked the cigarette she had been holding into the water.
“But the records on this city are sloppy as hell. The city walls are the worst example, but there’s barely any mention of things that’ve been here since the old days. They just show up in the city’s history out of nowhere. This catacomb’s the same. No records on when it was built, either.”
As she lit a new cigarette, there was a visible impatience in her movements.
“Just that about a hundred years ago, flooding spread, and it was sealed off during sewer maintenance… That’s all. Seriously, what do they think history is? What do you think, Elteel?”
“I think throwing cigarettes into a place of historical significance is a bit much.”
“………………Tch. Whatever.”
For a brief moment, she looked slightly uncomfortable as she took a drag—an unexpectedly rare sight.
Elteel shrugged and gestured ahead toward the path that hadn’t collapsed.
“Let’s keep moving. History’s fine and all, but right now, we’ve got a bomber to deal with.”
“Yeah, I know. I did go off-track a bit. Either way, Owen Whisper’s a clever and dangerous opponent. If he’s come to this city, it wouldn’t be strange if he’s awakened as an Unlaw.”
“If that’s the case—”
Tilting her head at the words, Elteel thought for a moment before voicing her opinion.
“Then it’d actually make things easier for us.”
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READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.PAGES.DEV
The two arrived at the deepest part of the catacomb—a hall with a high ceiling.
No coffins or the like were present, only the remains of benches lined up. It must have been a chapel-like space.
And at its center—surrounded by dim candlelight, right in the middle of a still-intact bench—
“Nnnnnggggggaaaaaaaahhh──────”
A man groaned, plunging a syringe into his arm as his eyes rolled back.
“………………”
Lonzder and Elteel exchanged glances.
Elteel’s heightened senses had already detected someone’s presence, and they had entered the hall cautiously.
But—
“Lonzder-san.”
“…What?”
“Is that guy, who’s very obviously high on something, supposed to be Owen Whisper? I heard he was a pleasure bomber, but nobody mentioned he was a full-blown junkie.”
“No… I’m genuinely surprised too………… Hey! Whisper!”
“Ooooh… oh… ohhh… Huh?”
His eyes rolled back into place, and a glimmer of awareness returned to his dazed expression.
A man in his mid-thirties—his gaze sharp but features well-defined. His short, undercut hair and tattered leather jacket gave off the vibe of a back-alley thug leader.
“─────”
The man looked at Lonzder and Elteel.
His unsteady gaze focused solely on Lonzder.
“………………Rosalind Slaney.”
He uttered that name.
●
“…Hmph. Been a while since I’ve heard that.”
At the mention of the name, Lonzder clenched her teeth around her cigarette.
Rosalind Slaney.
It was a name that once belonged to her.
“Ah… wait, no. That’s wrong now, ain’t it? These days, you’re Lonzder EnhanceDiah, right? What a joke of a name they stuck you with, huh, detective?”
“───!?”
At his follow-up words, she furrowed her brows. Even Elteel beside her seemed startled.
Doubt flashed through her mind.
How does this man know her name was changed?
When an Unlaw is registered under [Cartesius], they are given a new name—
a stabilization measure, akin to branding their ability.
It’s proof that they’ve become something other, a reminder that they’re no longer human.
But that’s something only [Cartesius] insiders would know.
Figures like Shizuku or Cklares, even if they’re from Balldlum, would only insist their names had simply been changed—never disclosing the truth about the Unlaw.
Yet—
“And that blondie with the red eyes… Oh, shit, it’s really Sheila Rubyvas, huh? The Unlaw are somethin’ else. The [Puppy Princess] who stayed a kid even past twenty—now she’s all grown up like this?”
Whisper, a mere escaped convict, was far too familiar with their circumstances.
“…You.”
Something was wrong. Having dealt with Unlaw cases for the past year and a half, Lonzder’s instincts flared. Her thoughts raced, her eyes scanning for clues.
And she found one immediately.
He was thinner than she remembered. Fine. His hairstyle had changed. Irrelevant.
The real issue was his surroundings.
He was a bomber—
one who adjusted blast radius and power by making his own explosives. When he was arrested before, they’d even found his bomb-making workshop.
But now? Nothing of the sort was here.
Only a bag at his feet and a burlap sack carelessly placed beside him—inside, a glimpse of red-liquid-filled cylinders.
“……?”
And then—the most unnatural thing of all. A rod-like object leaning against the bench.
A rectangular iron plate sandwiched countless gears, with a handle attached—even a trigger-like mechanism. It resembled a cricket bat, but Lonzder had no idea what it actually was.
A [something] like a club, adorned with vine-like engravings.
Too grotesque to be a mere weapon, too bizarre to be a staff. Not quite abnormal, yet impossible to ignore—prompting Lonzder to voice the first question that came to mind.
“…Did you become an Unlaw?”
“Hell no. Don’t lump me in with you freaks.”
Swaying unsteadily, the man stood, gripping the rod.
“Hey, detective. Remember the last time we met? When you ruined my whole damn life?”
“Was it some pathetic threat like ‘I’ll kill you’? Yeah, it was so lame I remember it clearly.”
“Heh! Good one. Well, I ain’t denying it. Even I think it was pretty cheap in hindsight.”
But then—Whisper bared his teeth in a grin.
“But I’m back, detective. To get my revenge on you. And you coming to me? Real considerate of ya.”
And then—
The avenger lightly swung his club.
“──────!?”
Lonzder was struck by an impact—and a blast of flames.
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