Conspiracies Part 1

We'd wandered into a park in the middle of town.

Trees gave us shade while we strolled by people having picnics or relaxing on benches. Laughs. Smiles. Some kids were playing dangerously close to a pond as their parents looked on. And farther out in fields of yellow flowers, I spotted a woman painting vivid scenery.

"This place is pretty!" Trixie on my shoulder beamed.

"We're not here for sightseeing," I told her. "Help find things we could write interesting articles about."

"Mmmm, sounds like we can do both at the same time, no?"

Well she's not completely wrong. I hadn't mentioned any of Nuri's plans, so tiptoeing around my true goal proved hard. Friends getting involved—wouldn't be ideal. Though if I had to, I knew Trixie and maybe even Tsukino would help.

The cobblestone path beneath my shoes stretched far, past another wooded area. There were people throwing frisbees, having fun, but something else had been catching my eye: a tall, brick chimney standing beside our pathway. There were no houses, or furnaces, or anything near. It was just a random chimney on the side of the road.

"Any clue what that's for?" I asked Trixie. "We've been seeing these pretty often since we started exploring."

"Let me see." She flew off my shoulder towards the chimney top. "Oh, there's a grate here. I can't go in."

"I wouldn't want you going in either. Could be dangerous."

"Hmmm . . . Sniff, sniff. This does smell kinda stinky though."

Don't know enough yet for even a hypothesis. I glanced around for the nearest person to try asking. Down the cobblestone pathway I saw a jogger—decked in exercise clothes and wearing sunglasses—heading towards me. He was huffing and puffing, sweating, but got surprised when I tapped his shoulder.

"What? Huh?"

"Excuse me," I said. "Can you answer a question?"

He lifted his sunglasses for a second to inspect me. "Oh. Are you a tourist?"

"Y-You could say that."

"Cool. What's up?"

I pointed at the tall chimney. "Can you explain what those are for? Or why they're stationed all over town?"

"Ah! You don't know about our sewer system?"

"No?"

He chuckled before wiping sweat off his forehead. "Dos Noches has the most advanced sewers in the country. They run through town and let homes have actual, cheap plumbing. Those chimneys are connected to underground tunnels and kinda work like air vents."

"One sec." I took out my notepad and wrote what he said. "So—since I saw other chimneys down this road, it's safe to say there's a sewer tunnel right beneath us?"

"Probably! An off-shoot artery. The main sewer line cuts through the heart of town."

Weird system. Guess engineers can't do much else in a medieval setting. I thanked the jogger for his time and let him jog away.

The rest of our cobblestone path reached towards the end of the park. We crossed a bridge into town where shops and boutiques were plentiful. Marble fountains lent an air of elegance while I concocted our next plans.

"Hmmm . . . Should we try checking a store?" I said.

"Store?" Trixie above me said. "What for?"

Oh, she still thinks we're searching for news stories. But I can't mention I'm investigating Dos Noches and gotta interview locals. "We'll see if employees have heard some gossip lately."

"Yay, gossip! Chief loves gossip!"

"Let's go then."

We paced under the green canopy of a clothes boutique. It was dark inside, deserted, with tables stacked high with trousers. Dresses hung on overcrowded racks beside dusty mannequins. And I couldn't even spot where workers were at.

"Hello?" I said, looking around.

"Maybe they're all on lunch break?" Trixie said.

"No. That'd be odd."

But even the front counter remained abandoned. I tried peeking towards a dark room behind the counter until someone finally emerged.

"Welcome," a short, round man said. He wore glasses along with an apron full of patches. "Can I assist with anything?"

"Yes. Here." I reached inside my trench coat and pulled out my ID badge. "I'm Aizawa, working for Cielo Verde's Borsalino. I was wondering if you could answer some questions regarding an article I'll be writing."

"Oh! Is it a promotional article?"

"I-It's an omnibus for local businesses. Your shop may or may not be mentioned."

I could see Trixie on my shoulder looking confused. But she just needed to play along.

Please get the hint!

The shop owner rubbed his chin, intrigued. "I see. Well we still can't pass on an opportunity for free publicity, so ask anything."

"Great. Let's get started."

I pulled out my notepad and pencil while the shop owner grabbed a glass of water for himself. He chugged it all as if stressed.

"Okay, first," I said, "would you mind detailing any recent activity you may have noticed around town? Or if there's been issues with your store?"

"Issues? Dos Noches as a city has been doing better than ever. No complaints there."

"None at all?"

"Well hold on—I said the city. Small shops like mine have been struggling though. You can probably tell I'm not getting many customers these days."

I wrote down everything he said. "Do you have any theories why business might be slow?"

"No theories—just facts." The shop owner's pensive face grew frustrated. "I don't know how, but a new wholesaler has been selling products to shops at ridiculously cheap prices. I lack access to that mysterious seller, so I haven't been able to lower my prices to compete with other stores. And I've been losing customers since."

Huh. Dunno if this is bad business sense, or something actually corrupt happening behind the scenes. Worth diving deeper. "Are you the only shop suffering from not accessing that wholesaler?"

"Not at all. In fact, even outside Dos Noches, I've heard shops in other cities have been competing against low prices. There's a good chance the wholesaler has started expanding their operations across Sin Nombre."

"What kinds of products does that wholesaler sell?"

"From what I've heard, mostly textile—clothes, coats, that sorta thing. It's items that can be mass produced now because of all those factories opening."

"So the factories are to blame?"

"No. They've been around for a while now. Even they're confused over who can set prices on products that low."

Trixie on my shoulder watched me jot things down. She'd been good keeping quiet, but I could tell she wanted grapes.

When our interview began ending and I stashed away my notepad, the shopkeeper said one last concern:

"I'm worried that the wholesaler will start expanding into things besides textile. So if you really wanna dig into conspiracies, maybe you'd benefit from asking a variety of different business owners."

"Will do." I thanked the owner before Trixie and I strolled out from the store.

Our remaining afternoon was uneventful, targeting some cafes and upholsteries. Other owners had heard about low price conundrums, but most were clueless about the source. I'd found a dress shop where the madam got mad when I asked about her cheap prices before she kicked me out.

Hours of investigating had turned the sky orange—dusk. Trixie was snoring gently inside my trench coat after being awake all day. And now it was just me pacing down a dark road.

Still not sure what corruption Nuri meant. But at least, there's probably something happening here in Dos Noches.

I could feel chills in the air. Slums that smelled like smog and urine welcomed me deeper within the labyrinth of buildings. It was quiet enough for me to hear dogs having sex in an alley, and to hear cats hiss at me as I paced by.

This wasn't somewhere anyone would enjoy. But the store owner's words from earlier had influenced me:

'So if you really wanna dig into conspiracies, maybe you'd benefit from asking a variety of different business owners.'

That was the plan while I pushed in the doors of a brothel. Whores wearing excessive makeup watched me stroll up to the counter where a man—fat, big nose, thick beard—was counting money.

"Huh?" he huffed at me. "What's journalists want now?"

"S-Sorry." I flashed him my ID badge. "I'm with Borsalino. I was wondering if you'd agree to an interview."

"Interview? Buy a room and I'll agree to anything, haha!"

Just imagining what Tsukino would say if I spent allowance on whores is scary . . . "Listen, I'm writing an article that'll help bring more traffic to this part of town. So your business might get a raise in customers too."

He rubbed his beard, intrigued. "Heh. You're not just pulling my leg, are you?"

"No."

"That's surprising. Last few times I agreed to journalist interviews, they'd always ask dumbass questions like 'why do you hire underage girls' or something."

"I-I'll refrain from asking more than necessary."

"Good." His hand shooed the whores away to scram them upstairs. I heard their high heels clank against floorboards until the building fell silent.

I already had my notepad open and ready. "Okay. Would you mind starting with detailing how business has been going lately?"

"Bah, business is business. All you journalists think my money is tied to seasons, when it's more tied to events."

"How so?"

"It's like how alcohol is considered evergreen—people drink when they're sad, or drink when they're celebrating. Sex is the same. Guys wanna fuck when they're depressed or when they're pissed. It doesn't really matter. Any emotion pushes them to me."

I wrote that down. "So what kinds of events are big deals?"

"War is good. Before the ceasefire, young men were paying to get their dicks wet because they were afraid they'd die virgins. And after the ceasefire, soldiers flooded over to have sex for the first time in years. So you could say sex is—what's the word?—apropos for most scenarios."

That's one way to put it. Some more jotting notes then I tried asking for details. "So would you say peacetime is bad for business?"

"Not necessarily. Peace just means stability. I like stability. But the drawback of peace is that the world might not always be rebuilt in your favor."

"What do you mean?"

He chugged a bottle of rum before wiping his lips. "Things change. When the ceasefire solidified, everyone discovered that bunches of kids lost their parents. There were children, teenagers, all displaced that ended up on the streets. Some of them had no choice but to come work for me."

Those were details I didn't wanna hear about. "Moving on—so what changed exactly for you with the ceasefire?"

"It inconvenienced me. See, after officials realized kids orphaned by the war had nowhere to go, Amila the Hero began opening orphanages throughout Sin Nombre. She opened her first one right here in Dos Noches."

Amila . . . She was the Hero I'd met in Oro Fantasma. Though stern, I could tell her heart was in the right place after everything she'd sacrificed to help kids. Hearing slander against her would upset me.

"How are Amila's orphanages related to your business?" I asked.

"Simple." His lips snarled, annoyed. "Those orphanages enticed away young girls I had working for me. They bailed and I never heard from them again."

"I mean, shouldn't you be happy for those girls?"

"Don't lecture me on morality. I treat everyone working under me well. Everyone can quit when they want. It's just that when you scoop kids off the street then give them a job and somewhere to sleep, you'd think they'd be more indebted to you."

"No offense, but I don't think this is much of a dream job."

"Speak for yourself. I doubt your job is perfect either."

Too close to home . . . "A-Anyway, do you have any other comments on the state of your business? Or if you noticed anything strange lately?"

He pondered by stroking his beard. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, or contemplating. It was a tense few moments of silence while I waited with pencil in hand.

"I may be biased," he said, "but those orphanages always seemed sketchy to me. It's like, girls that left me would come back, and they'd try recruiting the other girls to return to the orphanage with them."

"Isn't that normal?"

"It was freaky, because those girls came back different. Like they forgot their personalities. Or got brainwashed."

"I don't think you need brainwashing to know that an orphanage is better than a brothel."

"Bah, you wouldn't understand. You're annoying me now. Get outta' here."

The unceremonious end to the interview made me wish I'd never come here at all. But when I tucked away my notepad in my coat, Trixie flew buzzing out.

"Phew!" she said. "I slept great!"

"You really should consider fixing your sleep schedule."

"Us pixies get sleepy easy!"

"Then just get better slee—"

A heavy fist slammed down on the counter. The brothel owner was panting, sweating, as he gazed straight at Trixie.

"Th-That's a pixie!" he said. "Is she yours?"

"She's my friend," I replied, irritated.

"Name your price! I'll buy her off you! Right now!"

Trixie was trembling and her eyes were scared. She sat right beside my neck and hugged me to hide herself.

"She's not for sale," I sternly said.

But the man had started rooting through his drawers, slamming handfuls of coins onto the counter. Pleading. "P-Please! She'd print money in this business! That power to transform at will is priceless!"

"My answer is no. She can't morph into humans anyway."

"Wh-What are you saying? Didn't you know that—"

I was already at the door, too annoyed to even thank him for the interview. I didn't let him finish his sentence before I'd slammed the door shut behind me.

"Sorry about that," I told Trixie as we walked down the steps. "Some folks are just assholes."

"Mm-mm. I'm not mad. I didn't like his crazy eyes. They made me feel weird."

"Don't worry, we'll never see him again."

The dark slums of Dos Noches were strangely quiet. Calming. While we paced through alleys, it gave me time to mull events we'd investigated today.

"Hmmm . . ." I said. "Tomorrow we'll probably visit city hall."

"Will there be grapes?"

"No. But Amila's orphanages that guy mentioned—it might just be coincidence, but some timelines aren't adding up. We need to see public records for peace of mind."

"Is Miss Amila a bad person?"

"No, she's perfect. Selfless. Almost too selfless, now that I think about it. We're gonna clear some suspicions tomorrow."

"Hmm? But how do you know Tsukino will let us? I thought exploring town was just gonna be today."

"G-Gut feeling!" Drat. I forgot she doesn't know that Nuri planned on continuing the party tomorrow. It's something we planned in advance. "Anyway, it's getting late. Let's hurry back to our inn."

"Mm! Okay!"

The little pixie hugged my neck again as we raced through alleyways. But whatever the night had waiting, it was nothing compared to what I was afraid we'd face tomorrow.