Chapter 4: Voluntarily Forced【Part 1】
【言語に関するご注意 / Language Notice】本作はすべて、英語と英語の表現で書かれています。翻訳作品ではなく、オリジナルの英語ライトノベルです。あらかじめご了承の上、作品をお楽しみください。
See chapter one for the main author's note.
Sayoko
Up and down.
The furled nylon falls through my palm until I tighten it near the tip.
A quick flick of the wrist sends the umbrella spinning upward, catching the air before gravity takes it back down through my hand again.
Clamping my fingers around the handle, the cycle repeats.
Fall. Catch. Invert.
The restless dance goes on around me.
Thinning streets quiet down and most shops close for the day. Under the freshly flicked-on streetlights, groups hush their laughter.
As I walk down a main street, a boy catches my attention. He carries a telescope over his shoulder as he enters an observatory.
My eyes trace the dome of the building while keeping stride, Its size a powerful presence in the sky...
The sun struggles against the horizon before its pending execution, bleeding into the encroaching evening. A blood-red hue is what remains of their battle.
But I cannot afford to falter.
This stroll has revived my mood quite a bit after the wasteful morning now that strategic opportunities stand marked for later, but the main objective eludes me.
Day one draws to a close. Time runs short.
I slide the water bottle back into my backpack and relieve the paper wrapper of its duties in the bin.
Stepping up to the directory board next to it, I plot my next move on the map.
Let us see…
I tried the town hall. These shopping districts—far too many of them actually. The main streets. That large park, or... did I just go there to enjoy my packed sandwich? No matter.
Maybe I should try—
A boy and girl close in from my left peripheral. They walk hand-in-hand, murmuring about… bread?
“...and then the seagull left the bread on the ground just to spite me.” the boy gesticulates wildly. “Anyway, after putting my shirt back on and climbing into—”
They will do.
I close my eyes, breathing deep to withdraw the final reserves of my daily courtesy.
Stepping into their path, I snap my fingers at them. “You there. Short Hair. Speak up.”
The boy blinks, his mouth slightly agape. “U-um, what?”
“Let’s just keep moving,” the girl hisses, steering him past my shoulder.
They brush past me without slowing pace. A second later, their mindless murmur resumes.
I sigh internally. Re-educating the masses always takes so much time—a currency in short supply. I must adapt.
Stepping to the side, I hum a quiet tune as the umbrella dance around me. Waiting for the next target should not take—
Ah. A girl. Alone.
Lazy steps. Eyes drifting aimlessly. Oblivious. Completely exposed.
Perfect.
My restless fingers snap into action.
I keep my eyes locked on her and launch the umbrella vertically up into the fading light. As it falls, I catch it by the tip—holding it upright like a club.
Posture straight. Arms wound back. Elbows in a batter’s stance. Ready to drive a home run straight out of the park.
I swing it with full force—
FWHOOSH.
The handle blurs through the air, tracking straight for her eyes—
SHHH-CHT.
It halts a hair’s breadth from the bridge of her nose. The sharp gust of displaced air ruffles her bangs.
The girl freezes. A gasp hitches in her throat, her eyes pinned to the blunt object hovering before her face as she slaps both hands over her mouth.
“Ah! Hello there,” I say, offering her a radiant smile.
I smoothly retract the shaft and lower the umbrella casually to my side.
She stumbles back on unstable legs. “W-what… who are you?”
“A simple question, if you please. Where might one locate a depraved individual starved of their addiction around these parts?”
The remaining color drains from her face.
She frantically side-steps me, her previous lazy stroll forgotten as she flees into the gloom.
I exhale a short sigh, watching her silhouette shrink away. And here I thought I phrased it exceptionally politely. Modern society truly lacks basic manners.
Apparently, this method requires repetition to yield results. But after steering my fourth target back to the directory board, I finally secure a satisfying answer.
Giving people a little extra motivation always goes a long way. One trembling finger voluntarily pointing to a spot on the map was simply all it took.
The Eclipsing Moon Bar.
Just a block away it seems. My instincts were not too far off.
Click.
The umbrella springs up as my hum shifts into a cheerful little tune, the aimless stroll finally turning into a purposeful march. My phone guides me through the remaining distance.
Warm lights and a low hum radiate from the establishment. The exterior boasts a sleek, modern storefront, but a single glance through the glass reveals the warmth of dark mahogany. A surprisingly sugary scent floats in the air around it.
Click.
I step inside. The residual heat of the twilight gives way to an even thicker, more enveloping warmth. My shoes press into the timber flooring, drawing a sharp creak from the planks underneath.
Click.
The umbrella opens up into the spacious venue that holds the fading energy of the day. Students scatter across the lounges, hovering over menus or collapsing into fits of shared laughter. Thankfully, soft ambient music keeps the animated chatter pleasantly muffled.
Behind the counter, a girl methodically buffs a highball glass. Her uniform is a marvel of tailored elegance—a rare standard of aesthetics that should not be ignored.
I stride directly to the counter and rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Glass-wiper,” I announce. “Nene Kirishima—if you please?”
The barmaid freezes mid-stroke. She glances past my shoulder at the clear darkening skies outside, then back at me.
She rolls her eyes.
Without a word, she points an unimpressed finger toward the far edge of the counter, just one stool short of the wall.
Sitting there is a slumped, motionless shape.
It looks less a patron and more a fixture of the of the counter, really—melted over the varnished wood like that.
A frosted bottle and a tall glass of clear, iced liquid mock her limp hand.
I give the barmaid an elegant nod, resume my march, and halt next to the stool where the creature resides.
I am... relatively certain it is a person... though it currently possesses the spinal integrity of a fantasy slime.
National law has not changed in my absence to allow corpses to be left out in public, has it?
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Discover what happens next in: Chapter 4: Voluntarily Forced【Part 2】
Written by Limited_Infinity. Official publishing platforms and updates are exclusively communicated on Bluesky: @Limited-Infinity
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