Blame v1c21

“Do you have a cold?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t manage my health well.”

Unlike Alcity with its distinct four seasons, Tar was a country that was hot all year round. As they entered autumn and it quickly became chilly, Cheche’s weak body immediately caught a cold.

“First time I’ve seen someone with a cold.”

Evil muttered blankly.

Cheche, who heard this, couldn’t understand. It absolutely couldn’t be the first time. Even just among the people coming and going at the Center, there were quite a few suffering from seasonal colds. He’d heard that Motioners originally didn’t catch colds easily, but….

Was it some kind of Alcity idiom? Cheche, who became puzzled, blinked a few times and looked up at Evil’s raised fist, and Evil lowered his arm with an “oops” expression. He’d thought he was going to hit him, but that desire seemed to have disappeared. He narrowed his brow as if pondering something.

“Get going. Tell James to come in.”

“Yes.”

Cheche faithfully followed the order without any questions. When he told James, who was standing in the hallway, to go in, James hesitated without immediately entering. He wanted to ask what he’d called him for, but couldn’t because it was obvious he would hear.

Cheche thought as he returned to the secretary’s office.

Since he suddenly called him, he thought it might be about the joint funeral press conference from a few days ago, but he talked about a housewarming. It was a suspicious situation.

“Ah, Cheche. What did he say? What did he call you for?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t really say anything.”

“Really?”

“Specifically, what did he talk about? Hm?”

As he entered the secretary’s office, the seniors poured out curiosity. Even when Cheche answered that there wasn’t much talk, they didn’t believe him. Julia mouthed ‘Was it just harassment?’ She was worried Evil might hear.

“No, he didn’t harass me as much as you’re worried about.”

Cheche answered out loud. The senior’s face turned deathly pale. No one asked about the conversation with Evil anymore.

With his computer programming textbook open, Cheche was lost in thought. It was suspicious that he suddenly talked about the house, but even if he knew about the real estate sale, there was no way to do anything about it. However, if he questioned how he used the sale proceeds….

There had already been one instance of selling real estate gifted by the Endem family. If he said he sold it again this time, he might get very angry. If he demanded repayment of the real estate sale proceeds, things would get difficult. It seemed he should contact John soon.

While Cheche was deliberating, Evil was in the elevator with James.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I’ll go alone, so keep the refugee at the company until I contact you.”

Evil had suddenly said he would go to the multi-family house in the outskirts area presumed to be Cheche’s residence.

“Yes, then I’ll have the back gate opened.”

“Why would I go through the back gate? I’ll go through the front gate.”

“But at the front gate there’s a sit-in….”

“Sit-in? Oh, right. But so what?”

At the Center’s front gate were protesters demanding Evil’s apology. The bereaved families of the wildfire incident victims were also with them, and many cameras were filming the scene. However, Evil had forgotten about the protest itself.

As if it were a matter of people who had nothing to do with him.

“Never mind…. Have a safe trip.”

“I won’t be back. I’ll come in on Monday.”

When the elevator arrived at the underground parking lot, Evil got off without hesitation. It was fortunate that he wasn’t paying attention to the protesting citizens so he wouldn’t harm them, but… would the day come when that devil would have a conscience? James sighed as he returned to the secretary’s office.

“Cheche-ssi, leave work at seven o’clock today.”

“Yes.”

Cheche’s expression was indifferent, but the other secretaries looked at James in shock. James shook his head at them, meaning not to say anything. Now that they knew Evil heard everything, everyone quietly continued what they were doing. James quietly sent Cheche a message.

「Just leave at seven but don’t answer the phone」

Because of the wildfire complaint incident, calls were pouring into the secretary’s office. He was worried about how Evil might react this time if Cheche answered the phone and got thoroughly cursed at.

***

District 489, Building 5-31.

The house under Cheche’s name was at the edge of the central district. The area near the Center was generally wealthy, but as anywhere, there were shabby buildings as you moved away from the center. That place was also one of those shabby residential complexes. Building 5-31, which you had to walk a long way down a narrow alley where cars couldn’t even enter, was an ordinarily old and shabby multi-family house.

He’d heard in advance from the family attendant who had visited this place to make the secretary offer that it was quite a shabby place. However, Evil thought he’d been fed false information at the appearance of a house that looked much poorer than he’d imagined. Because if Tar’s young hero Cheche lived in a place like this, there was no way people around wouldn’t know. Perhaps it was only under his name and all the people living there were refugees.

“Fuck, where the hell does he live? Do I really have to go around the facilities….”

Just as he was turning around spewing curses, something caught his eye.

*People are living here. Don’t pee.*

A faded piece of paper stuck on the wall next to the utility pole—the handwriting inside was Cheche’s. It was exactly the same as what he’d seen when Cheche was hospitalized.

Below the paper, stuck at just the right height to be seen when a standing person slightly lowered their head, was a semi-basement window.

That’s the place.

Evil, who had a gut feeling, went down the stairs without hesitation.

***

There was only one house in the basement.

The small window was half open, and in front of the front door were a CRT TV, slippers, and sneakers, and the shoes were small sizes befitting a malnourished refugee. Judging by the lack of a number keypad on the front door, it seemed to lock with a key. Evil considered breaking down the door, then used his aura to turn the locking device inside and opened the door.

“Like a chain smoker….”

As soon as he opened the door, cigarette smell flowed out and he frowned. It was so faint that an ordinary person wouldn’t even think a smoker lived there, but to Evil it was a very strong smell.

Evil, who was about to enter with his shoes on, hesitated seeing the yellowed linoleum floor spread out right in front. There was no space that could be called an entryway, and once you crossed the threshold, it was immediately the kitchen. That seemed to be why even those tiny sneakers were left outside. It was funny that he left only cheap things outside and kept the expensive shoes prepared by the family inside the room.

After pondering for a moment, Evil took off his shoes and entered.

It was a one-room place. The ceiling was so low he had to duck his head.

The kitchen located to the right of the front door was neat. The sink was clean with no dishes or food waste. Except for a kettle, one water cup, and a cleanly empty ashtray, there was nothing, making it look even bare.

The narrow room was the same. Except for the faded wallpaper and yellowed linoleum floor, clothes drying rack and garments hanging on a hanger, and one Alcity language dictionary placed in the corner, there was nothing.

Nothing….

TV, drawers, desk… bed, not even a blanket.

Where the hell does he sleep? There’s not even a mattress, so where? On the floor? Where’s the pillow? The blanket? How can there be no drawers to search through?

There was nothing. Clothes hanging on the drying rack and hanger, one book—that was truly all.

Evil went into the bathroom connected to the kitchen. There was naturally no bathtub, and he couldn’t stretch his body because of the slanted ceiling. The washing machine was very small, resembling its owner. What was unexpected were the various shower products filling the bathroom basket. While there was nothing else, there were body wash and towels, shampoo, conditioner, lotion… the shower products were diverse.

Evil realized the reason without difficulty.

‘Dirty refugee bastard.’

‘Filthy Tartarian.’

Cheche must have commonly heard such insults.

Did I say that too? No, I don’t think I said dirty. Or did I? Did I?

Evil, who was recalling past actions, soon gave up because his pride was hurt wondering why he was thinking about such things.

Uh….

Something suddenly occurred to him and he went back to the kitchen. He looked around the room again, and even checked outside the door just in case before realizing. This house had no refrigerator. Evil opened the storage cabinet under the sink. There wasn’t a single dish, let alone a pot. There was one set of spoon and chopsticks, but that was all. There were no instant foods or snacks either, completely empty.

What does he… eat to live?

‘*Cough*.’

For a moment he heard a coughing sound. Not real, but Cheche’s cough he’d heard earlier. He also recalled the neck bones that had been fully exposed, so emaciated.

Evil sat in the middle of the room. It didn’t seem like a place where a person lived. It would be more understandable to say he lived in one of the refugee facilities rather than here. However, Cheche definitely lived here. The yellowed linoleum floor and low ceiling, the clothes hanging on the tacky floral-patterned hanger in between—these were the proof. They were so high-class and expensive-looking that it was impossible not to feel the incongruity. The sight of high-end brand clothing hanging in a one-room covered in poverty was such a bizarre scene.