I was once asked by the professor, "What does it feel like to be a machine?"

I couldn't answer that question. Being a machine only felt like being a machine. It was exceedingly level, naturally, with no incidental conditions. So I answered with that, and added, "Professor, what does it feel like to be human?"

She had folded her arms, said nothing, then let out a troubled laugh.

To be human and the feeling it brings.

You could say that that's the origin of this case, and the most important part of it.

Verlaine had said that he wasn't human. It was such an important matter that he would turn the world upside down for it. For him, whether or not he was human was an importantly fatal question that affected what he did now and what he did in the future.

How strange. What does it matter if you're human or not?

With that in mind, I turned to Chuuya-sama.

"Chuuya-sama."

"......"

"Chuuya-sama."

"....What?"

"It's your turn. 'The game of discovering the strangeness of humans'."

"....." Chuuya-sama didn't answer.

"Now to hear from this machine." I knocked both of my palms against the desk. "'Uhhh, a strange thing about humans... For whatever reason, they're ashamed to have their bodies make any sound aside from their voice, like burping or passing gas.' Ok, next."

I tapped the desk to indicate Chuuya-sama's turn. He looked at me and let out a long sigh.

"Haaaa..."

What a strange answer.

"'Haaaa', indeed. Thank you for your answer. Now to this machine. 'When women describe another woman as a sweetheart, it usually means that she's not sweet. The reason is unknown. When describing her as a super sweet girl, they're really saying, 'she's got a terrible personality.'" Tap tap. "Now for Chuuya-sama."

"Ahhhh...." Chuuya-sama spoke in a sluggish manner.

"Thank you for your reply. Once again, back to this machine. 'When using the bathroom, there's a mysterious protocol that men have to raise the toilet seats. Women don't. Why? Sitting down would keep substances from splashing everywhere. Specifically the small-"

"Stop it! That's dirty!" Chuuya-sama shouted.

I tilted my head. "Dirty? They finished cleaning this room 92 minutes ago."

"That's not..." Chuuya-sama aggressively scratched his head. "Argh, enough! Get me out of here!"

We were in the city police's interrogation room.

The moss green walls were full of tobacco stains. All the four-legged chairs had loose screws, causing them to shake with a rattle if you tried to move. There were water stains and scratch marks left behind by someone's hand on the desk. The water stains were likely the remnants of a suspect's tears.

After we were asked to voluntarily accompany the city police, they brought us to this room and told us to wait a while. We could easily break out, but it would be quite the hassle if we didn't go through the legal procedures. It was better for us to wait for the Port Mafia's legal advisor's to arrive.

Though I must say, being detained by the police as an investigator was quite a valuable, exciting experience. It's a good thing I hid my position. Thank goodness for investigative protocol.

"You're prohibited from continuing this game. Got it?"

"Is that an order?"

"It's an order."

There's nothing I can do about it since it was an order. "Understood. I won't do 'the game of discovering the strangeness of humans' ever again."

Chuuya-sama looked at me with a tired look on his face. "You're making quite a disappointed face right about now..."

There wasn't a mirror in this room, so I couldn't check what expression I was making.

"Haaa... Never mind. So? Will they release Shirase?"

"It's possible. But, it could take some time." I replied honestly. "I broke into their database, but they've already conducted a search of Shirase-san's home and confiscated twelve small firearms. The firearms' registration numbers have been chipped off. Even with an excellent lawyer, it'll take some time to release him. On the other hand, even if he only aimed for bail, he has a criminal record from his time in the Sheep. It'll be difficult, but since the police's true aim was you and not Shirase-san, they'll probably only keep him detained for the time it takes to send over a prosecutor, which is 48 hours."

"We don't have 48 hours." Chuuya-sama clenched his fists together. "Verlaine will come to kill him any moment now."

It's exactly as Chuuya-sama says. In order to take down Verlaine, we had to prepare an appropriate trap and use Shirase-san to lure him in. In other words, we needed to launch a surprise attack on the man who excelled at surprise attacks and assassinations.

But there were conditions that needed to be met. Like time and a space to build the trap... And the bait, Shirase-san.

"Speaking of, can't you contact your boss or something?" Chuuya-sama leaned forward. "This is the police, AKA your peers, right? Just ask your buddies at headquarters to reach out to the police here and have them release us."

"It'd be nice if I could." I shook my head. "But it's impossible because of the treaty."

"Treaty?"

I explained it to him.

Originally, Europole was an international investigative agency established on the conditions of the Great War's Peace Treaty. It's purpose was to eradicate criminals who were working behind the scenes over international borders. However, after being influenced by the post-war cross national power game, some restrictions were placed.

One of them was that European allies' rights and sovereignty must not be infringed. Seeing as some former enemy nations have cooperated to set up their own investigative agencies, we need to be real careful on whose rights we're infringing on in other countries. In this case Verlaine, who was a former French spy, will be arrested with a lot of state secrets crammed into his head. One mistake in handling him, and an international scandal could develop. And if that doesn't happen, it's completely plausible to think the investigator who arrested him would sell that information to another country. At least, that's what France thought, so they were reluctant to dispatch an investigator from another country.

On the other hand, Europole had to do everything in its power to incapacitate this disaster named Verlaine since he would randomly kill people of importance across the world. The UK in particular sustained the most damage when he assassinated their knights during their enthronement, successfully smearing mud all over the face of the country. No matter what, they couldn't hold back.

The plan of compromise was to send me as the sole investigator.

With me, I could certainly keep state secrets and wouldn't get dragged into helping another country based on selfish desires. That's how it was programmed. On top of that, the information gathered during this investigation was frozen, encrypted, and stored in a way that couldn't be used by other countries.

Like when Pianoman-san had once asked me, 'Why don't you report the mafia's intelligence to the European authorities?' And I answered, 'I can't'. This was the reason.

"I see." Chuuya-sama crossed his arms and nodded. "No matter how much incriminating evidence you see and hear from the mafia or I, it's impossible for you to report it, is what you're saying."

"Yes. And for that same reason, it's impossible for headquarters to reach out to the Japanese police. Technically, I'm not supposed to be investigating anything in Japan. If the other countries knew about Verlaine and our investigation into the king of assassins, they might start thinking of using him as a bargaining chip with France. As you know, he almost certainly violated international law during the wartime years under the pretense of a covert operation."

"And because of that, the Japanese police aren't your allies." As he said that, Chuuya-sama let out a sigh. "How inconvenient. And thanks to that, I can only rely on a piece of junk. Well, even if European investigators came crashing in, it wouldn't cause any trouble for the mafia."

"I think having an organization like the mafia, one who's not trusted by law enforcement, cooperating with us is a good compromise." I smiled. "However, Chuuya-sama, putting aside the trap for Verlaine, I heard that there was an ability user who was perfectly suited for the mafia. Is this true?"

The minute he said that, Chuuya-sama's expression changed.

His face turned sour, like he had just swallowed a hundred bugs.

"It's true." Chuuya-sama's voice sounded bitter, like he would rather be dead than continue speaking. "But I can't get in touch with him. It'd be better if that fucker just went and died somewhere."

"Oh..." I think we'd be in trouble if an ally of ours died. "Can we trust this person?"

"Trust? Hell no." Chuuya spoke with a crabby voice. "He's the scummiest of scum, twisted inside and out. He's sick enough to sell a drowning man water and smart enough to get him to buy it, too. But without his ability, we can't beat Verlaine."

"How do you know?"

"Verlaine's partner, the gifted spy Rimbaud, he—Dazai and I beat him."

As he said that, Chuuya-sama clenched his fists together.

"That damn Dazai... How the hell does that bastard only pull things off at times like that...?"

⤗⤗⤗⥁⬽⬽⬽

A disposal site.

It was a land completely forgotten by everybody.

Under the cloudy sky that promised rain, the messy, thrown away shipping containers were stacked on top of one another like corpses. On the bare earth of the disposal site were illegally dumped toxic substances, successfully managing to keep away all the wild mice.

It was the loneliest place in all of Yokohama, not even marked on a map—and near the center of it was where Dazai lived.

Dazai didn't live in a house. He lived in one of the abandoned shipping containers. Installed in the large container, once originally built for the shipment of cars overseas, was a refrigerator, a fan, a desk and chair set, a bed, and a small bare lightbulb.

Those who knew Dazai didn't try to approach it, including his subordinates in the Port Mafia. It wasn't just because the land had an eeriness to it. They had no way of knowing how Dazai would react to someone coming to his private residence. If a subordinate came to visit his house, he could either tear their limbs off one by one or he could welcome them while serving sweets. No one knew what Dazai's true intentions were.

The dark revenant of the Port Mafia.

That was what Dazai was called.

It's been one year since he's joined the mafia. Dazai commanded a secret unit under the boss's direct control, and has achieved outstanding results. A number of organizations have been crushed, and a number of new trade routes have opened up. Far from looking like a mafioso, he has achieved tremendous results at a speed much faster than any executive. He was in a different league. Even the achievements of the most successful Flag member, Pianoman, looked like child's play when compared to Dazai.

But even so, not a single person trusted Dazai.

Because in the depths of his eyes lay a jet-black darkness deeper than any of the nights found at the disposal site.

The more he continued on with his activities in the mafia, the more dark and incomprehensible Dazai became. He didn't reveal his reasoning to anyone. He just slaughtered his enemies, opening up the bloody pathway for the Port Mafia. Almost as if he were cornering himself up against a wall somewhere in the dark.

Immense achievements. But there was one person who wasn't happy with such an honor.

Dazai himself.

Dazai sat alone on his circular chair in the container, staring into the darkness.

His cellphone rang from the desk next to him. It was a call from Chuuya, but Dazai didn't answer it. He didn't even look at it. He just sat motionless, staring at the darkness in the direction of the door with his hands folded.

His eyes were too calm. Those black pupils absorbed everything from light to noises, not leaving a single thing behind. Not even his own feelings.

The phone stopped ringing as if it had given up, leaving silence to settle down once again. That silence seemed to be even deeper and heavier than before the phone had rang.

At that time, Dazai's eyes that had been staring into the dark abyss moved with a twitch.

The door started to open.

The metal door slowly opened and on the other side of it, someone's figure outlined by the dim light appeared.

"You live in a terrible place, Dazai-kun." The figure said, his voice light. "Honestly, what are you so afraid of that makes you live in such an awful place? Property tax?"

Dazai's expression didn't change whatsoever, and he spoke in a gritty voice devoid of any emotions.

"I'm scared of you, Verlaine-san."

The figure entered the room. He was tall and wore a suit that was reminiscent of the sea at night. His eyes were carefree, as if he were amused by the events playing out in front of him, and he had a black hat on his head. It was the assassin king, Paul Verlaine.

"What a liar." As he said that, he walked further into the container. "You're not afraid of anything. If I could see your eyes, I'd be able to tell. Even while trying to kill you a couple days ago, you seemed to feel almost nothing."

"I have a rather uncommon opinion when it comes to my death." Only the edges of his eyes seemed to faintly smile. The depths of them stayed stubbornly silent.

"The hitman business is doomed." Verlaine shrugged his shoulders.

Verlaine's leather shoes made a click-clacking noise against the floor as he walked. He grabbed some documents on the desk. "This is the inside data on the Port Mafia?"

There were several bundles of paper on the desk. If you were to sell it to another organization, you'd make enough money to live your life three times over. It was an extremely valuable document that recorded all of the Port Mafia's secrets.

Verlaine shook the bundle of papers next to his face. "Two days ago, I told you I wouldn't kill you so you can give this to me. It's a necessity for my job. But what's your reason? What reward do you get out of this? Don't sit here and tell me you saying, 'Please don't kill me' was a joke."

"It's simple." Dazai smiled faintly. His voice was low, as if it were the sound of a growl in a nightmare.

"I want to see the Port Mafia burn."

Verlaine's face became serious. He stared at Dazai, like he was a human being who had just started noticing that someone was there.

"Didn't the Port Mafia pick you up and raise you?" After a bit of a pause, Verlaine carefully asked the question.

"That's right."

"Then why?"

The question should have been heard by Dazai, but he stayed silent and didn't answer. His gaze wandered, as if he were searching for something that wasn't there.

Then, Dazai gave a smile. It was a grief filled smile that seemed to scream out at him.

"Because I've grown bored with it."

Verlaine narrowed his eyes. He fixed his gaze on Dazai, searching for the other party's true intentions. Dazai glanced at him, seeming to enjoy his gaze, and spoke like he was uttering a soliloquy. "In the end, I didn't find anything."

"Ahh, I see." Verlaine closed his eyes. "Well, I understand your feelings. I embarked on a journey with the hope that something would change me. But the place I went was full of useless junk, so I came straight home. I've also experienced something like that. Breathing, eating, excreting, that's not living. It's why we travel."

While he was saying that, Verlaine picked up a coin that had fallen to the floor.

It was an ordinary, common silver coin.

"I'm grateful for your help, Dazai-kun."

Then he flicked the coin.

There was a thunderous roar.

The coin pierced the wall behind Dazai as it flew past his side.

It crushed through the waste outside the container, leaving behind a thunder-like sound and an atmospheric distortion. It didn't fall anywhere as it flew in a straight line, disappearing over the western horizon.

All that remained was the steam from the melted metal and the echoing sound from when the metal was violently torn to pieces.

"I'll pay homage to your despair and kill you last."

He smiled, his posture the same as when he flicked the coin.

Dazai hadn't moved. Even when the coin had flown past him at a ridiculously fast speed, his face hadn't changed.

 "I anxiously await your arrival."

Dazai smiled after he said that. It was like you could hear the sound of his broken soul with that smile.

Verlaine turned his back and walked towards the entrance. When he grabbed hold of the door, Dazai asked his back, "So, which one are you going to now?"

Verlaine turned around and smiled, like a magician who had just shown off his mysterious magic trick. "You already know. I'm heading to the police station."

⤗⤗⤗⥁⬽⬽⬽

1,448 seconds after Chuuya-sama and I entered the interrogation room, the door opened.

"Pardon me."

It was the detective with the fuzz of hair on his head who had arrested Shirase-san.

Detective-san was holding a porcelain container that had a liquid in it. He then sat on the other side of the desk, used chopsticks to pick up the long and narrow solids in the liquid—the solid's main ingredients were starch, gliadin, and glutenin—and began to eat it.

Detective-san looked up when he realized I was watching.

"What, foreigner? Have you never seen udon before?"

Detective-san laughed at me with a sneer and continued eating. Steam from the food covered his face.

"Where's our food?" Chuuya-sama asked bluntly.

"Oh, you wanted some? I didn't think food meant for the common folk would satisfy the guy who makes money from illegal gems."

Chuuya-sama crossed his arms and glared at him. "Illegal gems? Don't fuck around with me, now. I work for a normal, licensed gem retailer. Wanna see my ID card?"

"I don't need to see your forged ID." Detective-san leaned his head back with a laugh. "By the way, who's this foreigner?" As he said that, he pointed his chopsticks at me.

Chuuya-sama didn't answer, just shrugged his shoulders.

Detective-san looked towards me. "Hey, Chuuya. For your sake, I think it's better that whatever's said in this room stays here."

"Nice to meet you. I'm a computer that's come from Europe..."

"This is gonna sound dumb, detective." Chuuya-sama interrupted me. "But he's a newbie that just joined today. He's a strange guy who, ever since he hit his head during a fight, is convinced he's a robot. I took him under my wing because I thought he was funny. Have any complaints?"

"No but, I really am a high performing computer."

"Your underling? I see. In that case, it's too early to bring him into such a fine place. We'll show him the way out." Detective-san stood up and knocked on the door. "Open up."

A large, uniformed policeman silently came into the room, grabbed my arm, and led me out.

I opened my mouth to protest, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chuuya-sama's signal.

Underneath the desk, Chuuya-sama was bending his index finger and pointing towards the outside of the room. Keeping eye contact with me, he pointed to the outside with his chin in a subtle manner.

He was quite obviously sending me non-verbal cues.

He must want me to do something without the people in this room knowing. That's why he fabricated a story to try and get me out of here.

Hmm.

In that case, there's only one thing for me to do.

"Pardon the intrusion."

I obediently gave a single bow and left the interrogation room with Policeman-san.

The door closed behind me, and the two of us started walking.

"Excuse me, Policeman-san." I said after about ten steps. "What do you think someone's trying to say when they bend their finger twice and gesture towards the outside?"

"....Huh?"

Policeman-san turned his large neck towards me.

"I mean, when someone bends their finger twice..."

While I was saying that, I did a bit of thinking.

Chuuya-sama implicitly gave me instructions to go outside, so that must mean there's something he wants me to do out here. However, Chuuya-sama himself cannot move from the interrogation room. Currently, we are trying to physically move Shirase-san. If we don't take him from jail to another place safely, he'll be assassinated before we can even set up the trap. But, the city police are aware we're trying to move Shirase-san. Because of that, they put Chuuya-sama in the interrogation room—

I see.

"I understand." I said abruptly, earning a suspicious look from Policeman-san.

"What do you understand?"

"The instructions from the gesture he gave me. It meant that Chuuya-sama was bringing the police's focus to himself so I could break into the jail cells and rescue Shirase-san."

"Ah, I see, the jail cells." Policeman-san nodded without a second thought. "....Hm? Jail cells?"

Uh-oh. Looks like he noticed. We can't have that.

"Policeman-san, what's that?"

I pointed behind Policeman-san. He reflexively turned around to look behind him. What an honest man.

Moving closer, I brought my index finger to his cheek and kept it in position while on standby.

"There's nothing—"

While in the middle of saying, 'There's nothing there', he turned his head back around and hit his cheek directly against my fingertip.

A miniscule hypodermic needle was installed in my fingertips, applying a sedative on the spot that's been pierced. A hypotensive reaction occurred, causing him to rapidly lose consciousness.

I grabbed him with both hands, preventing his fall to the floor.

I scanned my surroundings.

It appeared that no one had seen or heard anything.

"Be quiet inside the police station."

While holding his body up, I smiled.