EP.252 The Nation of Steel and the Faceless Humans - 1
Fortunately, the conclusion of the collaborator's story was not the darkly humorous kind where the hidden collaborator had actually been captured and was being exploited. The princess waved her hands, insisting that the collaborator had genuinely infiltrated on a Resistance mission, was filled with a burning desire for revenge against the Military Nation, and that she had even seen his face herself.
It was just as unconvincing, but regardless, our destination was set.
Refined Steel Smeltery. A place where the screams of steel and humans could be heard simultaneously.
We arrived there.
Clang-. Clang-.
A dry, heated sound echoed. It was the sound of refining molten Refined Steel into ingots.
Since the Military Nation had signal troops, our attack must have been broadcast across the entire nation. Other places had pulled out their troops or locked their doors as if declaring a state of emergency, but this place alone was like an isolated island. Not in the sense that it was quiet, but in the sense that it was completely unrelated and indifferent to whatever happened outside.
Even though an unregistered automatic carriage arrived at the factory entrance, let alone guards, not even the forced laborers showed their faces. It was almost a bit disappointing. Only the screams of steel echoing from all directions asserted where this place was.
"...Tch. This place is bleak no matter when you visit. It'd be better to just pass by."
The Regressor muttered with a fed-up expression, then discovered a shadow pacing back and forth in front of the door. That clearly suspicious shadow hovered in front of the door, then saw us and strode over.
The Regressor, who had reflexively raised his sword, lowered it again upon seeing the opponent's appearance, which showed no trace of hostility or vigilance.
"Someone's coming from over there. Doesn't look like an enemy. Is it the Resistance collaborator?"
Ciatti answered on his behalf.
Ciatti rarely showed a welcoming expression. It seemed he was one of the few remaining people she cared about besides destroying the Military Nation. Even with her unwell body, she expressed her joy and approached the man.
Three steps before the two met. Just in case, and to never forget that day in the past. Ciatti confirmed the password they had previously shared.
"Where are we?"
The man also stopped walking and replied.
"Still, beneath that riverbed."
"You're safe, Carpalde."
"You too, Ciatti."
Certain of each other, the two briefly bumped shoulders in greeting. For just a fleeting moment, that contact held the affection only those who had faced death together could share.
At the very least, for Ciatti, that feeling was unwavering.
After the short greeting, the man called Carpalde saw the faces of those who had followed behind Ciatti.
"I see a lot of people who aren't from the Resistance... Are they our collaborators?"
"Different. We are on the collaborator's side."
"What? What in the world is going on...? Wait. Them?"
The man feigned a sudden shock upon seeing my and Historia's faces.
He was a man with a flawlessly neat impression. To put it nicely, handsome; to put it badly, lacking any distinctive features. A man with such a blurry impression that if you slept today and woke up tomorrow, you probably wouldn't remember his face, drew an expression on his blank-slate face.
The man, as if he had known Ciatti from the start, finished his greeting, rolled his eyes, and approached us.
"Historia? Huey? Is it really you? How did you two get all the way here...!"
Surprising things happened one after another.
Contrary to his attitude of being quite pleased by the unexpected encounter, Historia showed a displeased face.
'I barely saved them from the bottom of the river, and now they've sneaked into this kind of death trap. Is everyone in a rush to die? Why do they always...'
To Historia, those she couldn't save were regrets, and those she saved were her hard-won achievements. Therefore, she couldn't help but be displeased seeing her achievements running amok to become regrets.
Historia twisted her lips, averted her gaze, and walked past him. The man withdrew his awkwardly extended hand and glared at Historia.
"You really haven't changed. Historia still pretends we don't exist, acting like she can't see us. How impressive, truly."
...He grumbled as if he knew Historia very well. I defended her in place of Historia, who had left without a word.
"She's not pretending not to see you, she's letting you off. From Ria's perspective, the Resistance is someone she has to catch."
"Even so! What's with that ambiguous attitude! She should make it clear whether she's on the Military Nation's side or our side!"
The man fumed.
A truly fitting attitude for 'Carpalde'. The narrow-mindedness of dividing others with a childish dichotomy. Even the pettiness of leaning on another's goodwill while expecting more stands out.
Taking such an attitude that made him look like a petty bourgeois full of spite to anyone, he soon showed a friendly smile toward me.
"Anyway, Huey, it's really been a long time. Just thinking that you're here makes me feel reassured."
And, like someone who knows me, he greets me with a friendly smile. Even kindly adding a self-introduction, just in case I might not recognize him.
"Ah, you remember me, right? It's me. Carpalde!"
'I am Carpalde. The last survivor of Hameln. And a member of the Resistance, the guide who will lead them.'
Of course, I remember Carpalde.
He was one of the few children who survived Hameln. As a Magic Officer cadet, he had ambition and talent, but unfortunately, he had a monster named Lankart as his peer.
A light too strong blinds the eyes. If he had pursued another path, he might have become an officer, but with his narrow vision, he couldn't escape Lankart's massive shadow and failed.
Right. I knew about him.
However.
"That day, you disappeared without a word. Chento was disappointed, and Ciatti was outraged by it. But I alone knew. I knew you couldn't stay with the Military Nation. I was certain the day would come when you'd stand with us. Just like the time we defeated Nicholas together!"
'Immerse yourself in the role. Be faithful to your character. And deceive {Me}. I am Carpalde.'
...I don't know any lunatic who believes himself to be Carpalde.
Who are you?
The only people who strongly assert their own identity as themselves are philosophers who've grown bored with life. Moreover, this man's face didn't even resemble Carpalde's at all.
He is not Carpalde.
But everyone perceives him as Carpalde.
Even Ciatti, who was closest to him, and Historia, who saved him from beneath the riverbed.
"Carpalde. This isn't the time for this."
"Eh? The Princess is personally here...?! Ciatti. What's going on."
"There are circumstances for that. Just calm down and listen for now. Carpalde."
"Does it look like I can calm down? And who are they?"
Cognitive dissonance sets in. Ciatti and Historia, who knew him, and the Princess clearly perceive him as Carpalde. Even now, their gazes keep overlaying onto that featureless face.
But I know. I couldn't even be confused.
Because, ironically, the lunatic claiming to be Carpalde... was strongly aware that he was not Carpalde.
Oho. Look at this. He swapped the cover.
His skill is top-notch. From promptly introducing himself the moment an opportunity arose, to naturally recounting shared experiences and making others perceive him as Carpalde. This isn't the skill of just a year or two.
Creating intimacy. I used to do that often when I ran scams.
The difference is, I can only imitate at best, but he can even 'transform'. Without a single exception, everyone sees, feels, and acts as if he is Carpalde.
This is... something close to the mystical.
It's truly a fraudulent ability. If I had been given that ability, running scams wouldn't have been so difficult. I feel a sense of unfairness in this regard.
Still, it's a relief. Because I have telepathy.
If I hadn't seen through it, I would have been led by something imitating Carpalde all the way to a trap.
Like the siren of legend who lures sailors with her song, like the mimic of fairy tales that catches travelers with treasure. I would have surely followed this existence that came wearing a friend's face.
Now, what should I do.
"Alright. I've decided."
"Huh?"
I decided. Having composed my mind, I read his mind with telepathy and mimicked him like a mirror.
He is Carpalde.
He is Carpalde.
He is Siegfrund wearing Carpalde over himself.
No. Let's not read that far. Because it would reveal that I've noticed.
He is not Siegfrund... but the shadow of the Military Nation, the head of the Department of Public Safety. The darkness needed for the stars to shine. The black matter that exists but does not reveal itself. The night watchman... Not Siegfrund of the Phantom Cabinet, but.
My friend Carpalde, who survived Hameln, became a member of the Resistance, and is rejoicing in the fruits of his long-endured infiltration.
"...I somewhat expected it when Ciatti was here, but it really is you, Carpalde. It's good to see a welcoming face after so long."
I'm not happy to see him. Because he's a stranger. However, I put on a bright smile like someone reuniting with an old friend after a long time, and said to 'Carpalde' as smugly as I could:
"I'm sorry, but I'll be the first to claim the honor of destroying the Military Nation."
The image you have of me. I'll imitate exactly what you expect me to say.
When is a person most off guard?
When they're fast asleep?
When they're admiring a beautiful scenery?
No.
Right before tearing out the prey's throat. When all tension is released and they are immersed in an inevitable sense of accomplishment.
The night of deceitful hunting has begun.