Though if off by just a few seconds he could have been the one sprawled on the ground, as if this level of reflexes was nothing to be surprised about, Chris entered inside with a calm face.
The smell of blood was permeating the interior. What he’d seen while hanging from the window was indeed blood.
And the drug dealer was dead with his head buried in a pool of blood that was clearly his own.
‘This turned out messy.’
Chris clicked his tongue, took photos of the scene with his device, then moved. It was to search for the ledgers, drugs, or other information he would have.
Besides the smell of blood, some acrid air was floating around. Heading toward the kitchen, the source of it, Chris discovered black smoke flowing from the microwave.
Inside was a device that had burst miserably. It was probably the broker’s. He would have put it in the microwave to destroy evidence.
Finding a plastic bag in the kitchen, Chris put the device inside it. Though the data had obviously all been erased, this might also serve as evidence.
Having sent Yont a report that the broker had died, Chris checked the broker’s bedroom, closet, and study that looked like they’d been robbed.
<Police, get out.>
At the sound of the device vibrating, looking at the screen, Yont’s message had arrived. It seemed he planned to have the police cordon off the scene and deploy Northern Light personnel.
<I broke the window.>
Having reported so there wouldn’t be confusion in the investigation, Chris headed toward the balcony. Climbing onto the window he’d broken, he confirmed there were no watching eyes around, then jumped down.
It was a full three-story height. But Chris landing on the ground was extremely nimble. Despite his large build and tall, prominent stature, there was no sense of heaviness that should naturally exist. Putting his hands in his coat pockets as if nothing had happened, Chris began moving his steps.
His day wasn’t over yet.
Returning to his neighborhood earlier than usual, Chris headed to Magnolia Antiquarian Bookshop. There was some hesitation in directly visiting a place he’d been avoiding for five days already.
But Chris couldn’t shake from his head the image of Yuri he’d seen in District 11, enough to outweigh the embarrassment he’d felt because of the dream.
Yuri getting into the Aston Martin Classic, the broker’s hideout in the direction he’d come from, the dead person and the charred device in the microwave.
Though nothing connected, Chris kept threading those incidents onto a single needle. He wondered if perhaps he wanted to meet Yuri once more and was giving himself justification. That’s how much it was a state of only circumstantial evidence without physical proof.
Moreover, he had no intention of immediately going to find Yuri and interrogating him. He was at a loss for even how to broach the subject.
‘Excuse me, Mr. Magnolia. Do you know about the murder that happened in District 11 today? I happened to pass by that area and spotted you, so I’d like to ask a few things.’
It couldn’t help but be a question full of holes from one to ten. His identity here was an ordinary office worker. If he wasn’t even in sales, what reason would he have to wander the streets during work hours? And going around talking about a drug broker murder case that police had only just begun investigating was also suspicious. Because ordinary people would find even being connected to such things distasteful.
Going further, it would be difficult to question Yuri Magnolia just because he’d seen him near a murder scene. First, Chris was only disguised as a civilian, and furthermore, it would blatantly reveal he was suspicious of him. It was such an insignificant sighting he couldn’t even report it to Yont.
Shaking off the needlessly complicating thoughts, Chris opened Magnolia’s door and entered inside. The cheerful chime seemed to clear his head.
Like last time, the counter was empty. But soon Chris felt his heart seem to float at the sight of Yuri revealing himself from between the bookshelves.
“Hello. You’ve come again.”
Having put away the book he was holding, Yuri greeted him.
“Hello.”
Chris, who managed to answer without stammering, examined Yuri.
“Are you going out somewhere?”
“No. This bookshop isn’t well heated, and I’m the type who gets cold easily.”
“Ah, so that’s why you were wearing gloves last time too.”
At Chris’s words, Yuri turned around holding a book and answered indifferently.
“The gloves… are partly for warmth, but they’re also essential for handling antiquarian books.”
Yuri saying this really looked like a reader who knew nothing but books. He had the appearance of an ordinary bookshop owner completely unrelated to things like the smell of blood filling a room, blood pooled on the floor, a corpse face-down in it, a completely burned device.
“Today, I saw someone similar to you.”
Having freshly realized the gap lying between his own reality and Yuri’s reality, Chris impulsively opened his mouth.
“Is that so?”
Yuri’s delicate eyelashes fluttering slightly cast elegant yet bewitching shadows on that face.
“How curious. Though my name is common, my appearance isn’t particularly common.”
Though it could sound arrogant, when Yuri said it, it merely felt like stating facts as they were.
The problem was that Chris had his gaze completely stolen by Yuri’s face. Suddenly he could vividly picture what kind of sneer those lips could draw, how sharp and cold the purple eyes hidden by glasses could become, clearly enough to visualize.
A sensation familiar to the point of longing welled up.
Chris became confused by the déjà vu that approached fleetingly and the doubts assailing him.
“Your glasses.”
As if pushed by that sensation, Chris, who’d started speaking without realizing it, closed his mouth. He’d almost asked if he could take off his glasses. They were probably worn for poor eyesight, so suddenly asking him to remove them would be rude.
Chris didn’t want to treat Yuri like viewing a hologram at some zoo. He even feared Yuri might mistake his intentions that way.
Instead, he changed what was about to slip from his lips to something else.
“By any chance, have we met before?”
Yuri gazed at Chris quietly, then blinked.
“I wonder.”
The purple eyes beyond the glasses steadily gazing back gripped his chest sharply. Waiting for the other’s answer, he felt his mouth go bone dry.
Chris, who’d calmly thrown his body through a broken window even when the ground beneath him was collapsing, found himself strange for being this tense just from meeting someone’s gaze.
A time infinitely long for Chris, and actually not even a few seconds in reality, passed between the two.
Yuri opened his mouth.
“Chris-ssi has such a common face, I’m not sure.”
At that sardonic answer, he strangely felt his strength drain away.
Asking someone he’d only just met for the second time if they’d met somewhere before was something that would provide teasing material for a hundred years and more. Even in the old era, such a question would have felt like a tacky pickup line.
Wherever he went, though he’d heard he was impressive, this was the first time he’d been called common. Chris, with a slightly disgruntled face, was asked by Yuri.
“Is that your only question?”
“Yes. I apologize.”
Having received an answer, Yuri passed right by him. Whether there were customers or not, he seemed devoted to organizing the bookshop. Though he’d thought those arms were slender, he carried several thick books without wavering.
Chris was confused whether that man only looked delicate and precarious to his eyes.
While going between bookshelves and looking around at books, Chris, at his gaze constantly leaning toward Yuri, gave up on everything and came down to the counter.
Yuri looked at him. A prickly energy could be felt, as if saying if you have nothing to buy, leave.
That attitude wasn’t unusual. Nine out of ten shops he’d entered on the November Continent had indifferent or rough owners. It was different from the June Continent in many ways.
Chris tried hard to tell himself that Yuri didn’t particularly dislike him, just disliked all customers, and opened his mouth.
“Do you happen to know a good furniture store?”
“A furniture store?”
Yuri asked back.
“Yes. I think I need to get a new bed.”
“Well, an ordinary bed would be uncomfortable for you.”
At those words, Chris hesitated.
“How did you know?”
“Just looking at you, it seems like you’d need a custom-made bed.”
It was a nuance that felt like he knew something about him. As if Chris’s sleeping situation was transparent.
While trying hard not to interpret it meaningfully, Chris answered.
“I’ve never even seen a custom-made bed.”
Yuri clicked his tongue.
“Since you’re so tall, you wouldn’t fit ordinary bed dimensions—you must have had a hard time.”
It was a fairly reasonable speculation. In Chris’s opinion too, his height was on the tall side. Even among Northern Light’s Espers with sturdy builds, he was noticeable. People said enhancement-type Espers originally had good physiques. The ones whose eye level was comparable to Chris’s were Yont, and Yuri before his eyes.
