For a moment, no one understood what had just happened.
“Whew.”
Only when Han, the man who had frozen everyone in place, exhaled did time seem to start moving again.
One of the guards who had been confronting the man rubbed his eyes. Han had moved so quickly that he thought he had imagined it, but he had not.
A situation that looked as though it would drag on had been brought under control by Han in an instant.
And he had done it without wearing the same ‘Mobility Gear’ as the guards.
That meant it had been nothing but his own physical strength.
The Special Unit.
They had only heard the name before, but seeing one of its members in person made the organization seem even more terrifying.
“You didn't kill him, did you?”
There was one other person who remained calm in the situation.
Violet.
She approached Han and checked the pulse of the man slumped against the wall.
“He's alive.”
“…….”
“Well, no crime worthy of execution has been established yet, so that's only proper. Then, now…….”
Violet turned her head and looked at Han questioningly.
Something about his eyes was unusual.
Only a few seconds ago, they had been like a gentle sea.
Now they were different.
Others might not have noticed it, but Violet could.
His emotions.
The identity of whatever was swirling beneath the surface was—
‘Hatred.’
That was her conclusion.
“You were right. He isn't someone who can be summarily executed. No judgment has been handed down yet either, so he must not be killed.”
Han's expression returned to normal.
Calm, like the surface of the sea without so much as a ripple.
“……Right.”
“You're staring rather intently. Did some blood get on my face?”
“No. I was just wondering what kind of harsh years this man must have lived through.”
“Years?”
“Never mind. More importantly, what are you going to do now? As you can see, he's unconscious.”
Violet stood and handed a handkerchief to the guard whose face had been cut.
Still dazed, the guard bowed his head and accepted it.
“First, we restrain him. The crime he committed is clearly attempted murder.”
“And he's under the influence of MFP as well?”
“Probably.”
Han searched the unconscious man's clothes, found his room key, and gave an order to one of the guards.
“We need to search this man's room. Confirm the room number again.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“And can you find out whether anyone boarded with him? If so, how many, and where they are staying…… no. If there were accomplices, they would have boarded separately. Bring me the entire passenger list for today.”
“Y-yes! Right away!”
Han issued orders in rapid succession.
The guards moved as though they had been Han's subordinates from the beginning, leaving only Han, Violet, and the unconscious man in the room.
Han examined the man's pupils and other symptoms.
“Now that I look more closely, I can tell for certain. He took MFP about eight hours ago. He lost control of his emotions because of the side effects and committed this crime.”
“So he really was an MFP user.”
“Which means all that remains now is the interrogation.”
Han found some rope and began restraining the man's body as he spoke.
“From this point on, I need to wake him up again and apply the appropriate threats until I get the information I want. Before he lost consciousness, he was also in the middle of forming a spell to harm me, so there is no doubt that he is a mage.”
“The way you're explaining everything so kindly makes it sound as though you're telling me to leave.”
“The threats I learned in the Special Unit aren't pleasant to watch. It would be better for you as well.”
“You're right. Few people enjoy sadistic scenes.”
CREEEAK—BANG.
Contrary to her words, Violet shut the door completely instead.
She did not seem to have any intention of leaving.
“But what if there were a way to solve this without resorting to such troublesome and sadistic methods?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean now is the perfect time to use my magic.”
A languid smile spread across Violet's lips as she moved the mana within her body.
At the same time, her elegantly moving fingertips touched the forehead of the man whose mouth hung open.
The mana vibrated.
Han rapidly analyzed her formula, then showed a slightly surprised expression.
“This is outside my expectations.”
***
BWOOOO—!
The ship's horn sounded powerfully.
White steam like storm clouds rose into the night sky, and the passenger ship cut across the sea filled with darkness.
“Fuck, I'm dizzy as hell. Goddamn seasickness.”
A man named Dave, dressed head to toe in luxury brands, gripped the safety rail as he struggled to steady his swaying body.
He had taken MFP to get pleasantly high, then drunk heavily on top of it.
He had never once suffered from seasickness in his life, but it would hardly have been strange for him to feel dizzy now.
When he glanced over the safety rail, he saw the ink-black sea far below.
It was a moment that made him realize all over again just how enormous the passenger ship was.
Then Dave rubbed his abdomen.
“Why the fuck does my stomach hurt so much? Wh-what the hell is this?”
It felt as though he had been struck directly in the gut with an iron cannonball.
Unable to understand the pain, the man pulled his shirt open.
Instead of merely being blue, an enormous bruise had turned almost completely black.
Had he blacked out from drinking and forgotten part of what happened?
No.
Even then, this was too much…….
“You finally came out, Dave, you dumb bastard.”
“Why the hell is your stomach hanging out in this cold? Planning to go diving?”
Dave turned around.
Two familiar men were strolling toward him.
Anyone could tell they were in a foul mood.
Dave buttoned his shirt and lit a cigarette.
“You came.”
“You came? You came? What kind of fucking bullshit is that, you son of a bitch?”
“What? What the fuck are you trying to bitch about?”
“Hah. Look at this bastard. We nearly all got completely fucked because of you.”
“But we didn't. If we had, would we be standing here talking right now?”
Dave held out his cigarette pack.
The man with his hair tied back slapped it away, clearly furious.
He brought his face right up to Dave's and growled.
“We didn't want to come out, but we had no choice, you bastard. We're already supposed to be keeping our heads down in our rooms, and who knows what kind of insane shit some drunk lunatic might pull next?”
“You bastard. Have you forgotten who stole that much of the drug in the first place? Want to redistribute it properly? Fairly?”
“You're going to milk that story for the rest of your life. We've done our share too.”
“Bullshit. Khrrk. Ptui.”
Dave snorted and spat phlegm before jerking his chin toward the man beside them.
“Fine, he dove under the ship to load the drugs. But what did you do? Book one extra room? Fuck, even a five-year-old brat could do that.”
“You really must be desperate to fucking die.”
The other man grabbed Dave by the collar.
As the atmosphere between them grew increasingly hostile, their remaining companion stepped in to mediate.
“Is this really the time for this? We need to get inside before people come by.”
They had boarded separately, and this was the first time they had reunited since coming aboard.
Aside from the companion who had boarded illegally, none of them even knew the others' room numbers, so they had no choice but to meet outside.
Dave revealed his room number despite his sour expression.
“Room 207.”
“……Room 1109.”
“The drugs. You hid them properly, right?”
“Yeah. More importantly, you didn't blab about anything, did you? It'll be a pain in the ass if the guards get on our trail.”
“It all worked out just fine, so you don't need to worry your precious little head.”
Dave exhaled a mouthful of cigarette smoke.
The companion who had argued with him frowned, clearly unconvinced.
“If everything worked out so well, why the hell does your stomach look like that? Seriously, nothing happened?”
The black bruise occasionally showed whenever the wind shifted his shirt.
Dave thought about it until he had finished the entire cigarette, but no answer came to him.
Come to think of it, how had everything ended?
The guards had grabbed him and dragged him away.
There had been some kind of struggle, and he had slashed someone with a knife.
After that…….
“Ah.”
Dave remembered something he had forgotten.
“My knife.”
“What?”
“Where'd my knife go?”
Dave quickly patted around his waistband.
The knife he had definitely tucked there was gone.
HSSSSSS—!
Then came the sound of steam.
It was not coming from the passenger ship.
It was smaller and lighter, more like the noise made by equipment a person could wear.
“Dave, you dumb bastard.”
The man with the tied-back hair realized it was a trap.
But by then, it was already too late.
HSSSSSS—! CRASH—!
Dave went flying as though he had been struck by a truck.
He rolled across the floor again and again and was only kept from falling into the sea by the safety rail.
The one who had sent Dave flying was a black-haired Easterner.
Han, wearing Mobility Gear borrowed from a guard.
‘It isn't military-grade, but the output isn't bad.’
Han evaluated the Mobility Gear he was wearing.
The equipment clung tightly to his body like a beetle.
White steam poured from exhaust ports near the backs of both shoulders and around his waist, making it reminiscent of a steam locomotive.
Mobility Gear, which used the wearer's mana to dramatically enhance physical ability, was a culmination of the Republic's magical engineering.
“Th-this bastard is Special—!”
One of the men glared at Han and moved his mana.
He tried to send a considerable amount of mana surging like a wave.
THWACK—!
But an unidentified mass of mana struck him in the temple and knocked him unconscious.
It was Violet's doing.
She was helping Han while remaining hidden.
‘One left.’
Han looked toward the man with his hair tied back.
The man glared at Han with every muscle in his body tense.
The atmosphere around him was completely different from that of his companions.
‘No openings. He's not just some rookie.’
He was different from Dave, who had been waving a knife around recklessly, and from the man Violet had knocked out with a blow to the temple.
Although Han's sudden appearance had made him tense, his eyes were still sharp.
Moreover, even Violet could not easily interfere with the flow of mana surrounding him.
At minimum, he was a Third-Tier Mage.
He was by no means an easy opponent.
“Talk about fucking terrible luck. Of all people, there had to be someone from the Special Unit here. Or…… did you know about us and come after us?”
The man with the tied-back hair spoke while gauging Han's reaction, a dagger already in his hand.
The truth was that he really had been unlucky.
Han had boarded the passenger ship for his vacation.
By chance, he had met Violet.
Then he had happened to pass a drunken man causing a disturbance.
And that drunk just happened to be transporting drugs with his companions.
From Dave and his companions' perspective, it was a bolt from a clear sky.
Han himself found the way everything had fit together almost too perfectly somewhat suspicious, but he did not entertain the man's attempt at conversation.
“Either way, nothing changes. You Pest bastards will all end up imprisoned in Alkant or dead.”
Alkant.
It was the great prison the Republic took pride in.
It could be called a hell for notorious criminals too dangerous for ordinary detention facilities to handle.
“Heh. Guess that's the Special Unit for you. Your confidence really reaches the heavens.”
The man let out a hollow laugh to hide his tension before continuing.
“But, sir. Before you arrest me, let me ask one thing. I heard that when mages get caught, they have their mana drained until the day they die. Is that really true? Isn't that a violation of human rights?”
“…….”
“Are you always this quiet? Or do you just hate talking to criminals?”
Either way, you're already a dead man.
The man grinned inwardly.
As a Third-Tier Mage, his specialty was moving mana covertly.
That was exactly what he was doing now.
He had been forcing the conversation with Han merely to buy time.
In about five more seconds, a bullet made of mana would pierce Han's skull.
But this time, Han quietly asked a question.
“Andrei Chikatilo. Do you know that name?”
For some reason, Han's gaze seemed to contain a quiet fury.
The man did not care.
He answered casually while completing his spell.
“Never heard of him. Easterner sir.”
“I see.”
BANG—!
A sharp crack split the air as though a real gun had been fired.
The target was Han's head.
The man with the tied-back hair stretched his lips into a broad grin, convinced he had won.
But—
“Then I have no business with you.”
Han evaded it with astonishing reflexes.
HSSSS—!
His acrobatic movement continued with a blast of steam.
In an instant, Han's heel smashed into the man's neck.
THUD—!
The man collapsed unconscious without even having time to feel surprised.
And just like that, the incident ended quickly.
***
“As you instructed, we found and secured the drugs hidden in the rooms.”
Once the situation was resolved, the guards who had been keeping their heads down poured out and restrained the fallen heretical mages.
A bag filled with drugs was placed in front of Han.
Han took some out and confirmed that it was indeed MFP.
The guard who had witnessed Han's abilities firsthand naturally bowed his head.
Han then explained how the criminals should be handled so they could later be transferred to Alkant, as well as how to restrain them in preparation for magic.
Han's work was not finished there.
Once those men regained consciousness, he still had to question them about the drugs.
He knew how they had transported them, but their source remained unclear.
“I remember now.”
Violet approached just as things were being wrapped up.
Han had been about to thank her.
However, one look at Violet's expression told him that this was not the atmosphere for discussing credit or rewards.
She had remembered something.
“Han Augustus. An Easterner from District 47.”
Violet could not remember exactly how many years ago it had been, but she had once read a newspaper article about Han tucked away in a corner of the paper.
It had been an article about a young Easterner who had distinguished himself through remarkable achievements.
For the sake of attracting attention, the article had even included an uncomfortable part of his past that did not need to be mentioned.
“An eight-year-old boy who lost his parents to a thrill killer who attacked his family. That young child grew up and joined the Special Unit for revenge.”