Chapter 4
“The guild will handle the ledgers. But if you’re caught, there’s no way out. Come here, Dan. I’ll pay with my body for you.”
Only then did Dan realize what Rafael’s “pay with my body” meant, and his face twisted. It did not mean Rafael would spread his legs before him, it meant he would carry him and run. It meant he would have to dangle in midair with his body only half resting on Rafael’s small, slight shoulders. It was not he who would hold Rafael and shake him.
Fuck. Dan cursed and felt along the wall beside the bed. He took out a brick and took out the ledgers, pulled off a pillow cover, and tied up the ledgers in place of a wrapping cloth. As Rafael had said, the ledgers in the shop were nothing much. But these ledgers were dangerous if they were caught.
“Hurry, come.”
Rafael urged him, and Dan, cursing inwardly, put his awkward arms around the neck of the small man he had wanted to hold. Rafael looked down below. The raid would certainly be everyone rushing in at once. He had to seize that moment to escape.
The moment he heard the sound of the door breaking down, Rafael ran. From this roof to that roof. His body was in an instant far from Dan’s shop. Dan, with his stomach pressed against Rafael’s shoulder, was swaying and feeling nauseated. Urgh, urgh. Even while he held back such sounds, Rafael ran at an unbelievable speed.
By the time he set Dan Lowe down at the Black Water headquarters, Dan already had the face of a man who was no longer of this world. Rafael Evans was amazing. He had slung Dan, who could be called a big man if ever there was one, over his shoulder and leapt from roof to roof, and at the end he had jumped down onto someone else’s carriage. And from the carriage he had jumped down to the ground again, and then run on and borrowed a horse, and ridden like mad until he reached the Black Water headquarters. Rafael was so fast and bold and unstoppable that tailing him, let alone tracking him, was impossible. Recalling how he had come to be rescued this far, Dan could not hold it in any longer and ran for the bathroom. Urgh, urgh. Watching Dan go into the bathroom making such sounds, Rafael, since he had come all the way to the Black Water headquarters, went up to the broker to collect his money.
“R-Rafael. You’re back?”
“Money.”
“I’m not someone else, I’d hardly not give you your money, would I? Here.” As the broker held out the envelope, Rafael took it and checked the money. After confirming the exact amount, Rafael, who had been turning away, turned back to look at the broker.
At Rafael’s call, the broker nodded. The Rafael from a little while ago had been full of sharp killing intent, but the Rafael now was the same Rafael as always. Seeing that face, the broker Hugh felt considerably relieved. To stop Rafael Evans, they would have to call in a human of a similar calibre, but such humans are busy and are not stationed in the guild at all times. And before they could be fetched, Rafael Evans would snap Hugh’s own neck as simply as brushing off dust.
“I’m taking a break for a while. So don’t accept any commissions that name me.”
“…What?”
Hugh Wester stared at Rafael with round eyes. Rafael had little interest in money, but he was a sword collector. Hugh was bewildered by Rafael’s sudden talk of a break, since Rafael earned money steadily even if only to collect swords. As far as he knew, Rafael had no money saved up. All Rafael had in his possession was a great many swords.
“Until when?”
Curiosity arose at Rafael’s sudden change, but the work itself mattered more. At Hugh’s careful question, Rafael, unusually, did not give an answer at once, but took his time.
After a considerable time had passed, Rafael murmured,
“Until I come back.”
“What, Rafael. Are you going somewhere?”
Hugh frowned. The Rafael Evans he knew had no friends and no family at all. He had no woman, and no man either, for that matter. He killed people and bought swords with the money. He was a lonely man who shut himself up at home with swords of many kinds. No, to others he looked lonely, but he seemed like a man who would not even know the word loneliness. For such a Rafael to suddenly talk about taking a break, or coming back, was terribly strange. Feeling that something was changing, Hugh stared at him, and Rafael murmured, “Ah.” Reading agreement in that groan, Hugh asked again, “Where are you going?”
“Just a moment, I—”
“When are you coming back?” Rafael tilted his head.
And he turned his neat back, as always, and walked out. The collar of a cheap shirt passed through his field of vision, and a body wrapped in a cheap jacket and trousers was visible. Neat, and yet somehow wistful, so Hugh called out to him without knowing it himself.
“Hey, Rafael Evans.”
Without turning his head, Rafael asked lightly, “What?”
“Of course.”
Hugh Wester saw Rafael off. Rafael Evans was called a killing machine. People whispered that some mad clockmaker had made a moving clock and created the monster called Rafael Evans.
Hugh knew that was a lie, but most people seemed to find it easier on their minds to accept Rafael as a machine than to accept him as a human. At first Hugh had snapped at them, asking if that made any sense, but now he just left people to say what they would.
But Hugh Wester quite liked Rafael Evans. Rafael, who had a tortured body and yet took no revenge. Rafael, who did not laugh and did not hesitate. Rafael Evans, who seemed to have nothing as a human, unexpectedly had compassion. He had little interest in humans, but he was generous to dogs and cats. Hugh had once witnessed Rafael picking up a cat. In the back alleys where even people died one after another, dogs and cats were even worse off. Children in the back alleys, neglected by the adults, played with dogs and cats. Even if they tormented small animals and sometimes drove them to death, the adults had no spare capacity to tell them that was wrong. It was that kind of hard world. Rafael often carried an animal in his arms and disappeared somewhere. People said Rafael Evans was handing the animals over to the “clockmaker” as test animals, but Hugh found that hard to believe. Would a man too lazy to take revenge unless money was involved go to such trouble? Besides, that clockmaker was a made-up person from start to finish.
I’ll probably see him again in a month or two.
Hugh thought that and took his eyes from the door. But after that, he never met Rafael Evans again.
Rafael lightly raised himself to his feet. It was a dark night, and the weather was not good either. The winter of the north continent is harsh. Hesus held a little territory on each of the other continents as well, but such territory on those continents was an expensive resort. No one could live there except great nobles, rich merchants, or high priests. Most people lived on this barren continent. In winter, even one’s breath becomes ice and falls to the ground on this continent. Rafael lived in the capital, Thierry, located in the south, but among the commoners living in the north, hundreds freeze to death every year. It was said that a few years ago, when Ignazio XXIII had not yet built the shelters used in winter, it was not hundreds but thousands.
Rain fell, pattering.
“Ah, my beloved Jay. Come again tomorrow!”
At the woman’s voice, Rafael, his lips to his glass, turned his gaze briefly aside. The prostitute had addressed her partner by name exactly as promised, and the man called “Jay” was about to leave the tavern with a haughty face, without even looking at her. He was dressed in the typical manner of a soldier. A guardsman returning after whoring, but his appearance was excessively beautiful, and his body was excellent besides. Even as he left the tavern, the gazes of several mercenaries were fixed on the man. At a glance he looked like nothing but a muscular giant, but on a closer look one could tell how well trained that body was.
Rafael set a banknote on the bar and followed him out. The moment he left the tavern and turned the corner, Rafael’s feet struck the ground and he leapt up. By the time the man tried to turn his head, Rafael’s blade was already touching his throat. Rafael whispered, very quietly,
“Gerald la Shore?”
At Rafael’s question, asked with certainty and aimed at the pathetic noble gentleman who, though Captain of the Royal Guard, had borrowed a guardsman’s clothes and been whoring about, the other man’s body went stiff.
Gerald’s eyes slid sideways to look at Rafael. Muscular as his body was, his face was terribly beautiful. With the calm feeling of looking at a flower in a flower bed, Rafael said to him,
“I’d like to have a little talk…”
“If we’re going to talk, you introduce yourself first, you bastard!” Gerald said gruffly. Rafael hesitated for a moment. And thinking that, unlike himself lately, he was often hesitating, he answered with a sigh mixed in.
“Rafael.”
The reaction came a beat late.
“Ra… phael? What’s your surname?”
At those words, Gerald’s eyes went wide. Only after scanning Rafael’s face thoroughly did he open his mouth, dazed. That foolish face was far removed from that of the Captain of the Royal Guard, called the flower of soldiers. Rafael took his sword from Gerald’s throat and turned his head away. Gerald la Shore’s gaze was so blatant that he could not bear to meet it.
In that instant killing intent crashed down, and Rafael instinctively raised his sword to block above his head. Gerald had brought his sword down on Rafael’s head. When Rafael crossed his two swords into an X and blocked Gerald’s sword, Gerald muttered, bewildered,
“Is it really Rafael Evans?”
Rafael affirmed with silence. He had thought Gerald might know his true identity, but apparently he knew nothing of it. Rather, what he saw was “Rafael Evans.” The Captain of the Royal Guard’s eyes gleamed fiercely as he met Rafael Evans, who was called a killing machine.
Rafael was flustered. He did not show his embarrassment on his expressionless face, but he definitely did not know what to say. He had not thought Gerald would not know his true identity, so he had prepared no other words. The killing machine, for whom smooth talking was the hardest thing of all, knew he had to bring out other words, and yet he had no words he could say besides the ones he had prepared, so he simply opened his mouth.
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