Episode 69 — The Gear That Craves the Torrent

The Old District of Felsen was currently in the midst of a massive molting process. The piles of rubble had been cleared, and white lines based on precise surveying had been drawn over the cracked cobblestones. A single man looked down upon this scene from the roof of a building.

Volg. He was the man who once ruled this place through shadow, acting as the fang of the underground organization, the Black Corridor. In his hand, he gripped an official document delivered by Lord Gustav: Manager of the Felsen Tax-Free Zone and Commander of the Intelligence Organization. It was a permit that allowed him to stand on the boundary between the light and the dark.

(...Impressive.)

Volg looked out over the city through the gaps in his bangs, his lips curling into a cynical smirk. Everywhere he looked, he felt the shadow of "that man"—the one who had rewritten the city both physically and structurally in such a short time.

For Volg, meeting Zect, the master of the sanctuary, had been an experience that overturned the very foundation of the values he had built throughout his life. Initially, Volg had speculated that Zect was either a "mysterious sage" or an "arrogant hermit with immense magical power." But when they actually met, he found a young man with zero ambition, slumped in a chair he called the Throne of Sloth, sipping on cola.

Most shocking of all was the way Zect looked at him. There was no disgust toward a criminal, no cunning ambition to exploit him, and no mercy expecting reformation. Zect simply viewed Volg as a "resource with specific characteristics and potential output."

"You just have to design the system so that the benefit of obedience outweighs the return on betrayal. The only thing I trust is the calculated result of his own greed."

Every time Volg recalled those words—passed on to him by Gustav—a chill ran down his spine. That man didn't trust people. He simply trusted the mathematical formula of "desire" and "profit-and-loss" that humans possessed. Zect hadn't placed Volg in this position because he believed in him, but simply because he had constructed an environment where working here was far more "lucrative" than betraying him and spending a life on the run.

It wasn't an absolute rule like that of a god or a king; it was a cage of "rationality" with no escape. That was Zect’s way.

"——So, this is where you were."

A voice from below interrupted Volg's thoughts. Lord Gustav appeared on the roof. The image of the young, squeaky-clean ruler—the embodiment of integrity—was gone. In his eyes dwelt the sharp light of a pragmatic sovereign.

"The Lord himself coming to greet me? I must be moving up in the world."

"Save the small talk. Volg, what’s the progress on the 'repositioning'?"

Gustav walked over and stood beside Volg, looking down at the city. Their proximity held a business-like trust, more like partners sharing a common goal than the caution of former enemies.

"It’s going well. Those captains who were granted amnesty are scurrying around the special zone now, terrified of the new city’s 'cleanliness.' To them, returning to the darkness and falling out of Mr. Zect’s calculations seems more frightening than falling into hell."

"...That man’s influence can be like a lethal poison at times," Gustav said with a self-deprecating laugh. The two of them pointed toward the planned construction site of the casino.

"It took me all night to decipher the 'Casino' operating regulations I heard from Mr. Zect. ...Volg, what do you think?"

"It gave me the shivers. 'Discard cheating and believe in mathematics,' right? Gambling gets wild because people rely on something as unstable as luck. But if you increase the number of trials and fix the 'probability,' all that’s left is a guaranteed profit. ...What he described isn't a den for gambling. It’s a 'factory for manufacturing money.'"

"Indeed. And the trust that the factory is 'fair' becomes the ultimate device for attracting customers. We sell dreams to the guests, and in exchange, we continue to collect the fractions based on statistics..."

Gustav looked down at the documents in his hand. They included the specifications for the unforgeable "cards" that Elishua was scheduled to develop using magic formulas.

"Volg. Your work with the 'Shadows' is the same. Don't rule through violence; control the circulation of information. Who, where, and how much they spent. Capture every movement of money flowing into the special zone. That will be the strongest shield for protecting the new city."

"I get it. I’ll filter the muddy water over here so you can keep your head high in public."

"Good. ...Also, I received word from Lord Léonard in the Capital. There is a possibility he may head this way personally soon. ...His objective is unknown, but it may involve that 'favor' I owe him."

Volg pulled a bundle of reports from his coat and thrust them toward Gustav.

"That’s perfect timing. It’s the result of my first job. I’ve found a few rats who’ve snuck in from the Capital. They aren't just merchants. Judging by their movements, they’re some noble’s lapdogs. I’m letting them run for now. I’ll find out if this Léonard guy is their owner or not."

"...I’ll leave the response to you. But as you know, do not let this become a situation that troubles Mr. Zect. Right now, he is prioritizing his time with the black cat above all else."

"Hah, tell me about it. He builds a mechanism that could flip the world upside down, while he just sits there petting a cat and drinking that creepy black stuff. ...He’s absolutely mad."

The corners of Volg’s mouth curled up in delight. This massive gear called Felsen was accelerating due to the presence of the foreign object known as Zect, surging toward a place no one had ever seen before. He never imagined a few months ago that throwing himself into this torrent would make his heart race like this.

"This is getting interesting... Tell me, Lord Gustav. Just how much of a monster is your master planning to turn this city into?"

"...Who knows. But he doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping."

The sinking sun dyed the two cities—the old and the new—in a deep crimson. The sound of construction hammers and the breathing of those lurking in the shadows. The grand laboratory known as Felsen was beginning to pulse with even more heat as night approached.

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