That evening, after Cozet had left.
A medical support team from the Human Conservation Federation returned once more to the Poster at No. 36.
They hauled large sterilized vacuum-compression packs up to the third-floor room, each one labeled on the outside with things like “Left Arm,” “Right Leg,” “Pancreas,” “1–3 Sternum,” “Skin,” and so on—an unnerving sight. Perhaps this is how livestock feel when they see neatly butchered meat laid out.
“I’m about to administer anesthesia. Don’t speak—just count backward slowly from ten.”
From behind the medical officer, Raimund watched the hand adjusting the sensors attached to his head.
All right, nothing unusual. They already did this once when I was unconscious.
So this time will be the same. I’ll fall asleep, and when I wake up, my body will be whole again—
His thoughts cut off.
When he opened his eyes, all the medical instruments and staff had already withdrawn completely. Warm sunlight streamed through the window, and he felt the cozy weight of the blankets and the heat of his own body.
He sprang up and threw off the sheet—to reveal a flawlessly perfect body. The faint seams where the limbs had been joined barely showed, so he hardly noticed them. As he wiggled his fingers and toes in admiration of the Federation’s cutting-edge work—
Knock, knock.
“Am I interrupting?”
Gasp! Where are my clothes? I’m even naked under the sheets!
Raimund scrambled up, wrapping himself in the blanket, and called out,
“Come in!”
Friedrich entered, looked around for a place to sit, then kicked aside the chair Cozet had used and perched himself on the edge of the bed, at Raimund’s feet, handing him something.
“Start with this.”
“Clothes…?”
“Ms. Cozet sent them. She said you’ll have no credits until you receive your payment for the first assignment.”
“Oh.”
Since arriving at No. 36, Raimund hadn’t changed into fresh clothes. Thank goodness he had a washer and dryer; otherwise, he’d have had to clean the floor naked while he washed and dried his garments—an absurd spectacle.
Still smarting from Cozet’s betrayal in the Iustitia affair, Raimund was taken aback. He’d thrown her out so harshly, yet she’d thoughtfully provided clothes for him.
“I’ll repay Ms. Cozet for these.”
“She insisted you accept them as a gift—no need to feel obliged.”
“After yelling at her like I did, it feels shameful to just take them.”
“It’s pocket change for her. Just accept them—clothing doesn’t eat people.”
Raimund took the light gray hoodie and pale checked shirt in hand, steeled himself, and said,
“Thanks… for everything inside the anomaly. I’ll get you out as promised. Just give me a bit of time to prepare—”
“I have something to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve been thinking since you collapsed. If we cooperate, we might handle things far more swiftly.”
“Uh?”
Suddenly talking business here?
Friedrich held up his wrist display. The text was tiny, but Raimund could tell it was a log of elapsed time.
“So far, as an external contractor, I’ve confined myself to anomaly verification—mapping internal structure, confirming entities, locating the imago. Nothing more. But when responding to the Labyrinthos anomaly, I actually ventured beyond my usual scope.”
“You mean deactivating and securing the imago?”
“Exactly. I also took on other risks you’re unaware of, but no need to go into that now. Once I escaped the Labyrinthos zone and checked the data, the egress time had shrunk considerably.”
Raimund squinted at the fine print. Lower entries showed times around twenty to forty minutes, but the top record read 68 minutes.
“That’s longer than the others.”
“That 68 minutes measures from when you entered. More data is always better, right?”
“So how long did it actually take to escape?”
“From when you and I met until we were clear—about seventeen minutes.”
“What? That’s a lie!”
Seventeen minutes? They’d wandered that maze much longer! Stunned, Raimund cried, but Friedrich waved off his alarm.
“Time inside anomalies may not flow in sync with the outside. So if it took only seventeen minutes from our rendezvous to securing the imago, that’s remarkable. You were lucky, certainly.”
He casually switched off the display, as if confident Raimund would accept his proposal.
Why? It might be nice to accompany a veteran, but still… something felt off. Raimund, unsettled, asked,
“Can I be frank? You don’t seem like someone who works well with others.”
“Of course I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ignore opportunities that benefit me.”
“What benefit do you see in me?”
“Personal curiosity—about you.”
Curiosity about me.
Raimund mulled over that, gripping the blanket tighter to ensure it wouldn’t slip.
“I’ve heard I’m handsome, but that’s so abrupt… I need time to consider.”
“Curiosity about why the Federation issued you an Iustitia replica, about the anomaly you produced, about your artificial body enduring two transplants without side effects, about your unusually rapid erosion rate, and even about your history with the Red Witch—all of it.”
“Oh… that kind of curiosity?”
“I don’t know what they saw in you, but I’m already engaged.”
This wretched, dirty man has a fiancée?
Friedrich drew a slender locket from beneath his shirt. The oxidized, dented silver case looked very old. He opened it to reveal—
“My fiancée.”
“Wow, she’s beautiful.”
In the faded black-and-white photograph, her smile lit up her face. Her attire was unusual, but her bright grin shone through. Friedrich, unusually gentle, gazed at the photo for a moment, closed the locket tenderly, and returned it to his shirt. Shifting back to businesslike, he said,
“You’ve experienced an anomaly yourself, but there’s still so much unknown. You’ve probably heard that knowledge is power—a maxim often cited in our field. With me at your side, your survival odds increase by about 34.6 percent.”
That’s nearly thirty-five percent? Then I’ll avoid the whole grass-growing-in-my-digestive-tract fiasco?
As Raimund’s ears flickered, Friedrich lifted his chin coolly.
“Think it over seriously.”
“I’m fine with it. But can’t you secure imagos alone? You had an Iustitia replica too. With your experience, you surely could handle it solo.”
“Oh, this?”
Friedrich withdrew a pistol from the thigh holster. Its look was familiar to Raimund.
“That’s it.”
Friedrich smiled without speaking. Before Raimund could stop him, he pulled the trigger toward one wall—
Bang!
“Aaaaaah!”
“See? It’s an ordinary gun. I modified it, but it has no power beyond a standard firearm.”
“You shot! Indoors! You actually fired it!”
“I sensed your curiosity and wanted to show you. I, unfortunately, have an erosion rate so low I was deemed unsuitable.”
He spun the sleek silver pistol in his hand. Raimund, seeing the faint smoke and the broken wall, nodded frantically.
Friedrich’s tone softened.
“Now do you understand why I can’t secure an anomaly imago alone?”
“Yes, yes.”
“And now you roughly grasp why I wish to collaborate.”
“Y-yes.”
“Shall we work together?”
Raimund froze. If he said no, would Friedrich shoot him here? He stared at the gloved hand extended toward him. The leather glove was pristine—yet looked, somehow, like Death’s own hand. Trembling, he forced himself to grasp it. Friedrich said approvingly,
“Excellent. Let this serve as our peace treaty for now. I expect your full cooperation.”
Damn. Peace my foot. All peace in this world must be enforced beneath the cold barrel of a gun.
Fortunately, Raimund managed to avoid eviction from No. 36, but his circumstances didn’t improve overnight. His debt to the Federation was colossal, and who knew if the children in Sector 5 even knew he was alive. As an external contractor, work was sporadic, so he was effectively unemployed between assignments.
Once he could move again, he threw himself into household chores. Lying idle on the bed only brought endless anxieties; better to scrub the stained cupboards furiously and forget.
“Where are the tea leaves?”
“On the counter.”
At first, Friedrich had yelled about Raïmund rearranging all his belongings, but he’d calmed somewhat—once he realized Raimund wouldn’t touch anything on the second floor, Friedrich claimed it as his own domain. Now he looked less irritable.
As Friedrich ripped open the bag of expensive tea leaves and shook them into the kettle, he asked,
“Have you heard? The Labyrinthos report passed, and the imago you secured has been named.”
“What’s the name?”
“Ariadne’s Wisdom. After appraisal and if you confirm you wish to sell, it’ll receive an official number.”
Oh right—there’s a sale bonus besides the assignment fee. How much might that be? Cozet hinted Labyrinthos was high-grade, so the imago should fetch a premium.
“When will appraisal finish?”
“Sometime tomorrow, I think.”
“I hope it’s pricey.”
“Debt motivating you? Since it’s Grade 4, you can expect a decent sum.”
“Grade 5 go for about 3,000 credits. Grade 4 maybe 4,000?”
Raimund guessed maybe four-and-a-half thousand, when suddenly Friedrich’s response struck him like a blow.
“Four thousand? More like seven thousand credits. You could see up to nine thousand.”
Clack.
The rag slipped from Raimund’s hand. He turned with a creak—and saw Friedrich gently set down the tea.
Sensing something was wrong, Raimund asked,
“Nine thousand? You said nine thousand?”
“Between seven and nine thousand. If they find new applications for Ariadne’s Wisdom, it could fetch more. Why the look?”
Thirty million credits to repay. If Grade 4 averages eight thousand, selling 3,750 imagos clears the debt—though that assumes pure imago-sale earnings. Remember, the Federation withholds ninety percent of assignment pay. Then there’s sending money home, donations to the orphanage, utilities covered by the Federation… scrape by on minimal living expenses, stash whatever you can… plus pick up odd jobs on off-days—then maybe…
“Mr. Friedrich.”
“Yes?”
“How can I handle more anomalies?”
Friedrich’s expression shifted. Clearly: “He’s nuts about money.” Raimund’s eyes gleamed, it seemed.
“Listen. Anomalies aren’t some game where you clear stages for a reward—”
At that moment, both their wrist displays chimed with a notification. They checked simultaneously:
[Recipient: Subcontractors
Sender: HCF
Assignment: Anomaly Origin Survey Operation
Location: Commercial District, Hand Strip Poles]
[Tap the button below to accept.]
Raimund murmured,
“Do you know where that is? What establishment?”
Friedrich reviewed the details, then said,
“It’s an adult-only assignment. Children must sit this one out.”