Seymour reflexively got up when the phone rang. However, it wasn’t him, but a regular customer who the clerk called after she put down the receiver.
“May, you’ve got work. I noted down the details, so please take a look.”
Seymour heard May ─ a woman with trimmed-up hair, lots of bare skin and tattoos ─ reply casually and then the sound of someone opening the door and leaving.
After seeing May off to some kind of job with a wave of her hand, the clerk directed a fed-up look at Seymour who was still stuck halfway through getting up.
“What? Is something the matter?”
“……No, nothing.” With a sigh, he flopped back down on the chair. “It looks like it wasn’t a call for me.”
“Well aren’t we all gung-ho about work all of a sudden? Did something happen?”
He didn’t reply. Having not been called for yet another day, he could only come to one conclusion: The Oriental guy with the sunglasses ── the man who always requested for 『Grind the MillToi Mo』to be delivered, was dead. Of course, this also meant that Seymour’s theory that his client had been Isaac Nigel had been correct.
One week has passed since the newspaper featured the article about the death of the Blood Familia’s big-shot. Seymour frequently visited the Holiday during that week, and checked all the requests that came his way. However, in the end, the request for him to deliver『Grind the MillToi Mo』 never came again.
A job he had received several times a week for more than a year had suddenly stopped. No matter how you looked at it, the reason must be tied to the death of that man.
A heavy sigh spilled out of Seymour’s lips. He took a little sip of the now completely cold coffee. With a grimace, he added copious amounts of milk. By the time he found it somewhat drinkable, he had halved the concentration already, and no matter how much he added it wouldn’t change the fact that mud would still taste like mud.
“Putting that aside, where’s Lumi? She was always following you around like a puppy, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her these days.”
Seymour furrowed his eyebrows at the blatant curiosity of the clerk.
“……We had a little fight over our work policy.”
“Hahaha, it’s because you worked her like a horse. We’re talking ’bout you here, so I’m pretty sure you didn’t even give her a proper share of the pay, did you? I mean, anyone would feel like going on a lil’ strike in a situation like that.”
“Ahahaha, I thought she was a girl who doesn’t know how this world works. That’s why.” His mouth moved as if it was a separate entity, giving some random, noncommittal reply.
“You sure look like you truly believed that bullcrap.”
Rather, the issue was that Seymour didn’t feel like explaining that it had been Lumi’s own wish to work.
Today also ended without him being called to work. Eventually, when the eastern sky began to be colored in shades of gray, Seymour left his seat. In the end, the bottom of his coffee cup remained hidden beneath murky fluid.
Hunching his shoulders against the bite of the cold, he headed to the driver’s seat of his Essex. As he was about to get the engine going, his mind wandered to what had been weighing on him over the last few days.
──A request by some nameless man to deliver Lumi Spike to her uncle’s place. Now that he thought about it, Seymour hadn’t quite caught what that uncle had said. In fact, even Lumi failed to say anything of substance.
『Good evening』
『Y-Yeah, good evening. But, you’re────』
That was actually all he heard from their conversation. If he disregarded the information that he had been given before the job, Seymour had only seen Lumi ring the bell of someone’s home, and then someone who had been very surprised to see her had opened the door. In other words, it was pretty much certain that it hadn’t been the home of Lumi’s relatives.
Some mafia familia had probably designated the house as a target to be blown up. And Lumi pretended it was her uncle’s home to match the timing of her visit to the explosion.
But, why?
So that Seymour Road would shelter Lumi Spike.
He turned the key, but the engine didn’t start.
──The request to deliver a gift to the San Marina, and the second attack.
After sheltering Lumi, Seymour hadn’t even tried to take her with him to any of his jobs. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but rather because there were too many reasons against him taking her. However, that all changed because of that request.
He was made aware of the possibility that she could be attacked at home or the Holiday, which he had previously considered to be safe areas, and on top of that, Lumi had suddenly proven her own worth during a surprise job.
I can’t really tell whether that job was actually a set-up, but that’s not really important here. However, the reason I took Lumi with me on that job…the sudden attack, and the water tank that suddenly came crashing down; there’s no doubt that all of these were caused intentionally.
He turned the key, but the engine didn’t start.
It’s simple once you connect all these incidents. And that unnatural sequence of events only makes sense under a single premise: everything that had happened between meeting Lumi Spike and now had been in order to make sure that Lumi Spike would accompany Seymour Road ── in order to murder he secluded Isaac Nigel.
He turned the key, but the engine didn’t start.
“………Fuck!”
His irritation reaching its peak Seymour kicked the dashboard with the sole of his shoe. That little movement made him pant heavily. No matter how much he inhaled and inhaled, he felt like there was no air in his lungs. He clearly heard the blood pounding in his ear.
“……”
He slammed his forehead against the wheel. Ignoring the loud blare of the car horn, he stayed like that for a short while. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore what was going on inside and outside of him. He reset his body like a machine, pushing all his agitation away.
Soon the irritation, which had been creeping slowly towards panic, faded away. He calmly grasped the key, and gently turned it. The engine started up, sending its low rumble through his body from below. Little by little he let the regular rhythm of the engine settle his mind.
Either way, it’s a safe bet that it’s in danger.
As for what was in danger, it’d be the way of life of the human called Seymour, and the career as a courier that defined his very existence.
Taking advantage of Seymour’s job, Lumi had murdered someone. This was an insult, not just to Seymour’s personal disgust at the concept of murder, but also to his very existence. Even though she was fully aware of how Seymour had become a courier and why he chose this way of life, Lumi Spike had chosen to use him as a tool.
I have to confront her about it.
Seymour decided while stepping on the accelerator.
❖ ──『✙』── ❖
“Oh, welcome back.”
“……”
When Seymour rolled up the shutter, he was greeted by Lumi’s smile. She was holding a plate underneath the flickering, cackling, naked light bulb.
Seymour silently got out of the car, leaving the door open. Staying well within reach of his car, he moved to the boundary line created by the light leaking out of the garage. This way he could jump into the driver’s seat at a moment’s notice. With the engine still running, he just needed to slam the accelerator and the Essex would charge into the garage. Of course, running over Lumi in the process.
“Mr. Seymour?” Lumi called out to him, having seen that he was standing stock still. “You’re not going to come in? Ah, please dust off your clothes before you do that. I’ve been making slow progress with the cleaning of this garage!”
“……”
“I made some delicious pasta today, you know? I bought a lot of nice shrimp at a store in the neighborhood. Mother taught me how to make pasta for sad days. I’m quite confident in the taste.”
“……”
“Since Ben came over a little while ago, I shared some of it with him. It looks like it came out great. Ehehe, I held back on snacking today.”
“……”
“……Mr…Seymour?”
No matter how you looked at her, Lumi seemed very much like an ordinary girl, tilting her head in confusion. Her limbs, so white and slender they made you wonder if they knew what muscles were, possessed a softness Seymour was well aware of.
Lumi had introduced herself as vampire, and Seymour had personally witnessed the abilities that that had granted her, but they had been nothing more than idyllic tricks like changing into bats, and he couldn’t quite connect the concept of murderer to this girl in front of him. Above all, her clear fondness towards him, despite looking somewhat troubled right now, had something of an irresistible charm.
He took a deep breath in, holding it for a good while before exhaling.
“………………….Haaah.”
The determination that he had believed to be so steadfast and tough, dissolved into nothing but softness the instant he saw Lumi’s face.
“It’s nothing. I’m back.”
He felt terribly pathetic. He folded his body back into the car, and drove into the garage. Lumi closed the shutter after him, controlling it to minimize the shaking.
This had happened every day ever since Seymour had seen the news of Isaac Nigel’s death. He understood it rationally. There was no doubt that Lumi had killed the mafia man. She was responsible for his death, directly or indirectly; with the information and evidence in his grasp, it was impossible to conclude otherwise.
Moreover, he could be fairly sure that she wasn’t part of the mafia herself.
Disputes among mafia familia almost never found their way into the news. In other words, Isaac Nigel’s death being reported on the front page of a newspaper meant that the scene of his death did not adhere to mafia practices. Based on that, it also meant that the being called Lumi Spike belonged to an organization of a significantly different and nastier nature than the mafia.
Having said that, Seymour had not confronted her with all these facts even once.
“It does look tasty. But, I don’t really think that it’s a good idea to feed Ben.”
“Is that…so? He appeared to be very happy about it, though?”
“Of course he would. But if you make him happy once, it would be wrong not to do the same next time, right? That’s not a responsibility you should be taking, though.”
“Oh my, but I always make you happy, don’t I, Mr. Seymour?” Lumi chuckled.
Seymour’s face screwed up into a terrible grimace just as he was about to sit down on an empty can that served as a stool, at the table which consisted of a board placed on now empty paint cans.
“In short, that means you’re going to take responsibility for me, right Mr. Seymour?” Lumi’s voice was filled with amusement.
While searching her words for an underlying meaning, Seymour sighed heavily and gave her a somewhat safe reply.
“I give up. Should we invite Ben over for dinner next time then?”
“Doesn’t that basically mean you won’t take responsibility for me!?”
There were hints of fawning and disappointment in her voice. Despite the fact that she was definitely putting on an act, Seymour’s heart throbbed.
A lacking sense of urgency. A weak sense of danger. He understood it rationally. That Lumi Spike was a hitman for some kind of organization, that she had used him to kill someone.
And yet, he only understood it rationally. It wasn’t as though he had actually witnessed Lumi Spike killing anyone, and it wasn’t as though he could call himself an acquaintance of Isaac Nigel either. Even though her crime was an undeniable fact, that very fact didn’t feel real to him. The death of a man, who should have been his acquaintance, felt ridiculously far away. So distant that even when he strained his eyes, he still couldn’t quite see it. And that was the very reason why he could avert his eyes from that reality.
Sitting down to dinner with her like this was bliss. Even though a maelstrom of doubt and suspicion swirled inside him, it was so easy for Seymour to put off dealing with it all that it was actually quite sad.
“Anyway, let’s eat……wait, have I always had this tableware?”
“I bought it some time ago. Ah, I used the money you gave me for buying ingredients, so it’s okay, right?”
“Hee, somehow I get the feeling that the number of things in here that were bought by you has been steadily increasing.”
“Rather, let me tell you: for your information Mr. Seymour, this is the third time you’ve used that fork. You never noticed until now?”
“……Oh, really?” Inclining his head, Seymour brought the unfamiliar pasta to his mouth with the unfamiliar fork. “Yep, it’s great.”
No matter who died somewhere in this city, her food still remained tasty.
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