Against Cold Marble

After taking a step forward, dressed in a short dark-red silk dress that extended to her knees, the scarlet-eyed girl muttered her first words, “I’m sorry. Can you tell me where I can find a private detective?”

The girl’s pale, gorgeous visage was adorned by her twitching, soft red lips. Her accent was clearly of foreign origin.

Why is she barefoot? And why is she wearing such a dress? We’re almost in winter. Sarai’s expression seemed troubled by the girl’s appearance, especially her dress, which was cut wide enough to leave her shoulders and upper chest bare.

Without warning, he bent down slightly, his hands on his head. A strange headache struck him. He raised his head briskly and examined the girl once again.

A-Actually, there is nothing wrong with that. What was I thinking? His eyes narrowed for a moment.

Beside him, Enji rubbed his forehead in response to the same sort of pain Sarai had just undergone. He reached out with his palm. “I’m the detective guy around here. I can’t help you, though—we’re quite busy and on a lunch break at the moment.”

He smiled and added, “You can come back later today.”

“Oh, I see.” The girl’s delicate features seemed to sadden. “I traveled all the way from Russia just to find someone who can help…” She lowered her gaze to the faintly lit ground.

“W-Wait a second, why the hell would you come from Russia—”

“R-Russia… you say.” Sarai was taken aback and, for a reason he didn’t quite understand, swallowed his words, the same headache hammering his frontal lobe.

Again, beside him, Enji was no different.

He exhaled and said, “Still, I fear we can’t help you. Look for some other—”

“Enji-san, I’ll go and help her.” Sarai’s tentative voice cut off Enji’s words.

Although it seems like I’ve been doing well for the days I’ve been here, I can’t be happy about contributions I have no memory of… 

I’m going to help for once, at least. He stood, stretched his arms, and approached the girl, whom he had just noticed was short and around his age.

Enji hooked him by the shoulder. “Sarai, you don’t have to force yourself. You may have forgotten, but I’ve been telling you this all the time,” he said in a serious tone.

Sarai turned and mumbled, “Enji-san, please let me go.” He smiled faintly. “Otherwise, I’ll simply feel like a burden.”

“Sarai…” Enji’s brows lifted in slight shock. “Alright, you can go. Get the job done, and be careful.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Sarai nodded politely. “Thank you,” he said.

He stepped toward the girl in even strides. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” A warm smile spread across his face.

“Thank you!” The girl bowed. She slowly raised her gaze and asked, “What’s your name?”

Sarai turned to Enji, unsure whether to say his real name or not.

A couple of steps behind, Enji shook his head in refusal.

Damn, how should I come up with a name this fast? Sarai thought for a second.

“I-It’s Hayato.”

Sorry, Hayato—although you were pretty annoying back in the orphanage. Sarai felt no guilt in using his dead friend’s name.

“What about you?” he asked for the girl’s name.

The girl tilted her head and, with a wide smile, said, “Aliskra is my name.”

“Aliskra…” Sarai looked at the girl’s pale, breathtakingly ethereal face in a daze. “W-What do you need help with, Aliskra-san?” His face reddened, eyes darting away.

Aliskra leaned toward him. “I’ve lost my beloved cat…” A sorrowful look rested on her face.

“But don’t worry, she’s probably somewhere in the area I live in.” She smiled before adding, “We should go bring some missing cat posters I left in my hotel suite first, then search for the kitty!”

Sarai was at a loss for words and simply said, “Ah… sure.”

All of a sudden, Aliskra reached out for his hand, tightly holding it with her thin fingers. “Let’s go!” His vision blurred as she pulled him out of the building’s stale air into the refreshing autumn breeze outside.

At the center of the lobby, biting into the sandwich nestled in his palm, Enji watched the two stand on the edge of the faintly sunny sidewalk. They waited for a brief while before a taxi claimed them.

That girl doesn’t seem to be Faithful. I doubt she was sent by ‘The Yokai’ or ‘BND’... Could it be some other organization? I doubt it. Enji thought.

But there was something strange about her words, something I’m struggling to determine… He pulled out his flip phone, tapped the numbers, and—beep, beep, beep.

“What do you want? I’m dealing with the underground merchant,” Mitsu’s distorted voice echoed from the phone’s speaker.

“Where are you exactly?” Enji said.

“I’m in the—TCH-KSHHH…of Ōtori Shrine…”

“Malik is—ZZZT—KSSSH…with me. Agh, damn this—TCH…there is no signal.”

Enji took a brief pause. “Listen, I want you to watch over Sarai as soon as you finish.” He bit his lower lip.

“I see. So you’re really determined to… ZZZT—KSSSH—do that thing?”

“Just do what I told you. Please.” Enji clenched his teeth.

“Okay.”

Click–Clack. The call was over.

…

Ōfukachō, Kita Ward—Waldorf Astoria Hotel.

After an hour or so of taking different taxis, getting lost, and searching for Aliskra’s room in the huge hotel, Sarai and the pale girl were finally standing before the gloss-lacquered wooden door to the suite, in a hallway that reeked of elegance and luxury.

Sarai was completely unused to such an ambience, but managed it anyway.

Gosh, I kind of regret helping her. We wasted so much time because of her horrible direction skills. All of this just to get the stupid posters. He sighed.

Aliskra unlocked the door, pushed it open, and invited Sarai in with a gesture of her hand.

Damn… what a room. Sarai felt as though stepping on the polished marble inside would cost him money, but he stepped in anyway.

The suite was vast and sterile, painted in whites that coated the walls and silk curtains, and dark browns that defined the stark, minimalist furniture.

The far wall was a sheer pane of glass. It looked down on the city’s traffic from a chilling height, and beside it lay a flawless expanse of gray silk: a costly bed.

The air felt colder than normal.

“Mr. Sarai, take a seat.” Aliskra said with a gentle smile.

Wait—didn’t I tell her my name was ‘Hayato’?

Or…

Did I? I don’t think I did. What’s wrong with me… Sarai rubbed his eyes.

“Thank you.” He took off his shoes and sat on a low, buttery sofa of black leather.

Aliskra sat on the one opposite him, a glass table resting between them.

Sarai’s eyes roamed as he muttered, “Uh, where are the posters?”

“Posters? What are you talking about?”

Huh…?

“The cat posters…

“Wait…

“Your eyes…

“Weren’t they red—”

Sarai’s vision blurred. He felt as though his heart, lungs, and very mind were being devoured by darkness.

Immediately, he could no longer move and simply collapsed, motionless against the cold marble.

Thud.

Opposite him sat Aliskra, with an unwavering smile and eyes as dark as an abyss.

For several seconds, not a thing moved.

Until—

Sarai’s fingers twitched.

His body shuddered, as though in agony. A malicious presence crept from him, thick and suffocating, warping the air around his frame.

His hair darkened further into a muted violet that refused to reflect light itself.

Aliskra stood and crossed the room. She drew him into her arms with disturbing tenderness and care.

“Darling…” She hooked her chin over his shoulder.

“Just how long has it been…” Her eyes closed.

[End of ARC 1: Pendulum's Last Swing]