Bailonz Street 13

It had begun.

Though I didn’t know what had started, it certainly couldn’t be anything good. I hastily looked through the corridor window. An ominous light was flashing from the direction of the harbour.

“…!”

I grabbed Liam’s hand and ran like a madwoman. The maze-like corridor had somehow shortened. Whether the length had been reduced or my eyes had found the right path could be pondered later. I burst out through the door and, without pause to catch my breath, let go of Liam’s hand.

“I have to stop it.”

Liam stared at where my hand had slipped away, then nodded. I could see him trying to hide his anxiety with a smile. I probably looked the same way. Pretending not to be scared even though I was terrified.

He urged me:

“Just focus on coming back. Jane.”

“I will.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what happens to anyone else. You’re all that matters to me.”

Isn’t that a bit extreme? Only then could I manage something close to a smile.

And I thought about it. No matter how many times I considered it and measured it in my mind, my thoughts aligned with the truth.

The Black King had spoken to me. Given me alone the choice. Without even explaining how or where to hand me over, just saying he’d spare everyone if they gave him Jane Osmond? It was such an obvious lie it would be strange to fall for it.

The king wanted me to fall into his grasp of my own accord. As if he hadn’t even imagined that other humans might capture and hand me over.

‘Jane, one thing is enough. Say you’ll give him everything.’

Why am I remembering Clara’s words now? Those words she tried to extract even at the cost of breaking my sense of self and destroying my normal thinking.

I think it was then.

No, perhaps it was even before that.

That his plan had been prepared from long ago. That he had merely been waiting for me.

I was certain he wanted me to say I would give him everything. For me to move as he desired, to come to him of my own accord. To willingly sacrifice myself for the sake of the world.

Therefore, the Black King must have prepared a way for me to meet him.

And I felt I knew what it was.

I take a step back. Descending the stairs leading to the house one by one. One more step and I would be completely separated from Liam.

Names have power. Just as I became Jane Osmond, and humans gave the name Chaos to their god.

“■■■■■.”

The moment I uttered the rhythm I should never have spoken, the Great Abyss opened its mouth.

A distant sensation swallowed me whole. My vision went black in an instant.

At last, I had fallen into his grasp.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

A satisfied laugh echoed.

It was the king.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, London lay beneath my feet.

A salty, humid wind rushed in from the harbour. My clothes fluttered like candles in the wind.

It was somewhat surprising that there was nothing wrong with my body, that my limbs were still intact. I had worried that those horrible things from before might repeat themselves.

“Come here and look.”

It was a human voice.

I turned to face the one who had spoken to me. Standing there was a dark-skinned man, looking exactly as he had before. His smooth marble-like cheeks, narrow chin, and disheveled black curly hair were quite striking. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken him for just a beautiful young man.

But now I knew clearly. All this was merely a shell. Inside must sit something too horrible to imagine.

It’s impossible to stop the shell. How could one know what would come next?

He gestured.

“…”

“Come.”

It was one of the buildings at the London docks.

I approached the edge of the building’s roof. It felt exactly like being led to a slaughterhouse. The man stepped back to make way. His attitude suggested he wanted me to look at this scenery. Having no choice, I surveyed London as he requested. Then I stopped.

“Oh.”

All the ships that should have been docked at the harbour seemed to have sunk. Black water was swirling directly below. Only a few wooden planks remained to tell of the ships that had been there.

Turning to look at the city center, I could see hazy smoke rising in various places. Smoke floated like clouds in the sky that was bright with flames. From Belgravia to the East End, no place was unscathed. The damage would certainly be severe.

I swallowed a groan while keeping my mouth firmly shut.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Is he mad? I swallowed those words and barely managed to mutter:

“It’s hideous…”

He widened his eyes at my honest answer. If he truly thought this scene was pretty, I wondered if there might be something wrong with his aesthetic sense, but I didn’t say that part.

His suit coat billowed heavily in the sea breeze. He began speaking disjointedly.

“If we had met normally, it certainly would have been interesting.”

We’d already come too far. It was a wrong assumption.

Because I was no longer ordinary, and could see and understand the ugly essence hidden within the shell.

“Since the world will meet its end anyway. Let’s talk a bit before then.”

The king was showing an unusually relaxed attitude today. It was markedly different from how he had been in the cave. So I was a bit confused.

Where had his previous demeanor gone? What about all those times he killed me, saying he would definitely take my soul? When he kidnapped me and buried me alive in a coffin?

“Is this how you act when it’s the end?”

I asked. He merely shrugged.

Though I wasn’t sure how to adapt to his suddenly changed attitude, I was primarily relieved that he wasn’t going mad talking about killing me or whatnot. I hadn’t expected him to have any willingness to talk at all, so I was just surprised by his unexpected demeanor.

The ground was shaking. It was as if London itself were alive. The boom, boom sound resonated uniformly, then stopped, only to repeat. Like a heartbeat.

I moved away from the edge of the roof. My first thought was that I didn’t want to see any more. The king stood with his hands behind his back, paying no mind to my actions. Then he spoke to me.

“There’s the world you came from, and there’s this place.”

What is he trying to say?

I reflexively raised my hand to touch my ear. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt Liam needed to hear what came next. It was an instinct-like intuition.

As soon as I made the quick movement, the king began his story.

“Usually, the two worlds are like oil and water, difficult to mix. One can’t cross from one side to the other, nor can they perceive each other. The walls between worlds aren’t fragile enough to allow that. It’s impossible even with the power of the doors. After all, a ‘non-existent’ concept cannot ‘exist’.”

This is difficult. These words are incomprehensible.

Does that mean this world isn’t a game but real? That I crossed over to this real place?

“By ‘non-existent concept’ you mean…”

“Us.”

I felt an ominous stickiness in his use of the word ‘us’.

Black sand spread from the king’s fingertips. It was like a picture book. He was showing me two different landscapes separated by a thin membrane. Then something pierced that thin membrane and crossed to the other side.

“But just once, something flowed from there to here. Like a crack in a dam.”

And the sand moved busily below, and a small piece mixed upward through the place where something had crossed over.

The king continued.

“And through that gap, we too were able to mix something in. We were very lucky. Once a concept exists, we can begin to erode it.”

So, someone from our world came here first, and because of that, the ‘recognition’ began. They discovered that another world existed on the other side.

The moment they realized, the greed began. There was no option not to. To those desperately eager to expand their world, the stranger who appeared at that moment must have seemed like a gift.

Thanks to whoever crossed over, stories of <Misty London> were born in the place where I had been.

Though there were many stories of magic and monsters in our world too, at some point new myths began to form. They had been waiting for that moment.

The king said:

“The seeds we planted transform into forms easily accessible to humans. Like that book Herschel Hopkins interpreted. Books, movies, that ‘game’ you encountered. We spread the bait and waited for a bite. Though it’s pitiful when an unlucky fish gets caught.”