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Many people overlook the fact, but the recoil of a pistol is stronger than you might think.

That’s because the center axis is short and the weight is light.

But for a skilled marksman, that doesn’t matter.

-ㅡ!

With the sound of gunfire, the slide was pulled back. The ejected shell casings flew up and rolled on the floor, while a new bullet, pushed up by the spring, was caught in the chamber.

I aimed at the terrorist furthest from the group and pulled the trigger.

-ㅡ! ㅡ!

The terrorist, who took the bullet to the face, collapsed in place. It wasn’t a dramatic movement like an action scene from a movie; it was just like a deflated puppet falling over.

I fired my pistol at the clustered terrorists. Some were hit and died instantly, while the survivors scattered like bugs.

Hiding behind a concrete pillar, I pulled out the revolver I had tucked in my jacket’s holster.

Just a moment to catch my breath.

I took a short inhale and peeked around.

“……”

Between the purple and yellow, there was red.

Camila, who had run away a distance, was now looking this way, waving her hand.

Success.

—

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

The air was thick with the smell of blood and alcohol. The acrid scent of gunpowder mingled in as well. Between the screams of the patient lying next to me, the gunfire echoed from a distance.

Camila leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

All the various odors that had pinched her nose vanished, and the sounds of gunfire and screams faded into the background.

“Howww… I almost died….”

Camila, barely alive, leaned haphazardly against the department store corridor, breathing heavily.

“Is everyone alright?”

“No….”

Francesca, her complexion darkening for the rare occasion, forgot her sword and answered while leaning against the wall. The alchemist frowned, her finely shaped brow deepening with worry reflected in her eyes.

“The sound of gunfire is disgustingly loud… Are you two alright…? My ears are ringing.”

“I’m fine! I’ve heard gunfire a lot.”

“I’m good too. Administrator, the hearing loss is only temporary, don’t worry about it.”

“Guess I’m the only one with a problem….”

“That’ll clear up soon. Even if it’s a bit chaotic now, your hearing will be fine.”

Camila gently patted Francesca’s back while smiling brightly.

Francesca shook her head lightly, looking queasy, and Lucia watched over Francesca’s condition.

Francesca said,

“Okay… The first plan was successful. Where do we go to find the situation room, as the Colonel said…?”

“We should be able to find it quickly. For now, we….”

Camila rummaged through her belongings.

It was paper.

“We need to move on to the next step.”

She smiled slyly.

“Let’s go underground. Quickly, before it’s too late!”

*

Bullets flew from all directions.

A slightly exposed head was blown apart, rolling aside.

A deafening boom shattered the air. Gun muzzles spat fierce flames, and bullets pierced through chests.

As the thunderous noise stopped, a brief silence was interrupted by a ‘creak’. Soon after, another shot rang out, and bullets flew once again.

In the illusion where every scene flowed like slow motion, the doctor approached the fallen terrorist and rested a hand on his chest.

“Are you alright?”

“Dr… Doctor….”

The terrorist, shot in the chest, tightly grasped the doctor’s hand. Looking down at the rapidly rising and falling chest, the doctor shoved cloth into the wound.

“Argh!”

“Hold on. If you bleed out, it’ll be dangerous. Let’s worry about infection later; stopping the bleeding comes first.”

The doctor skillfully treated the gunshot victim, recalling skills from more than twenty years ago, still intact.

Sticking the wound, the doctor checked the terrorist’s palm and felt for a pulse.

The heartbeat was rapid, and the palm was clammy.

Shock.

“Calm down and listen to me. The moment you realize you’ve been shot, certain weird things happen in your body. Usually, your mouth goes dry, your palms sweat, and your heart rate speeds up. Does your mouth feel dry?”

“Y-Yes.”

“But don’t worry. The lungs and arteries were missed, so you’re not in any real danger. Lucky you.”

At those words, the trembling terrorist managed a faint smile.

“Y-you’re joking, right?! I’ve been shot…?!”

“Just stop the bleeding. Someone come move this guy. Right now!”

As the shouts came, a bullet suddenly struck the wall! Hearing that chilling sound, the doctor reflexively shielded the injured terrorist with his body.

-ㅡ!

Pieces of shattered concrete fell like sharp shards to the floor, and dust rose from the spot as it flew in all directions.

From behind the doctor, familiar voices echoed in his ears.

“Hey, how many shots did that guy just fire?!”

“Two, four, five… six! Six shots…!”

“That, that pistol. Isn’t that a revolver?!”

“Y-Yeah… That’s right…!”

“How many shots does it have? Huh? Not six, right?”

“Right… He has fired all of them…!”

“Then what now? We gotta go for it! Let’s move!”

The terrorists hiding behind a marble planter filled with dirt were now excited. They each pulled their revolvers and exchanged glances before getting up.

The doctor yelled at them, “What are you doing, you idiots! Get down!”

But it was too late. Before his voice reached them, bullets already flew through the air.

Bang, bang, bang! With four shots, the rushing terrorists dropped like flies with two shots each.

A man who had been hiding behind a pillar now held another pistol, definitely not a revolver.

The doctor glanced beyond the debris at the man holding two pistols.

Then it happened.

“Hey, you bastard!”

One of the terrorists abruptly shot up and started firing.

The thunderous gunfire echoed through the building. The robust hunting shotgun pellets blasted the pillar’s exterior to bits, showcasing its power. The force was incomparable to small pistol rounds.

However, while the lead shot shattered the outer shell, it failed to penetrate the concrete and rebar dense pillar. It was impossible even with a rifle bullet to pierce such a fortified structure.

But it was enough for a threat.

Glass shards, concrete fragments, sharp wood, and torn aluminum flew everywhere as the man remained frozen behind the pillar.

So the terrorist continued pulling the trigger, firing wildly with his shotgun.

“Die!”

“Good job, Maxim! Keep shooting!”

“I get it, so just shut up and shoot too! I’m running low on ammo!”

The terrorist called Maxim conversed with a comrade who was now reloading a lever-action shotgun. It was Marco.

“Barco, Vanya! You two go around and seize them! We’ll cover you!”

“Got it, Marco. I’ll go around the side to hit them, so please take cover. Can you do that?”

“Understood!”

Two skilled hunters suggested flanking tactics. It was an excellent insight.

But as always with plans, anyone can come up with a decent stratagem.

Until you get hit.

-BANG!

A sound vastly different from a shotgun or old revolver, but one I had never heard before silenced the cacophony surrounding Maxim’s shotgun blast.

The bullet didn’t have some sort of magical silencing function that quieted the area.

It simply struck the terrorist who was shooting.

“Gah!”

The terrorist, raining fire with a shotgun, twisted his face in agony. His finger on the trigger shifted from pulling the trigger to desperately patting his knee, losing his balance as he collapsed to the ground.

“What’s happening, Maxim!?”

“I-I got hit in the… leg!”

“…What?”

“Toe—”

Bang! Before he could finish his sentence, the terrorist’s head blew up.

Marco could see the blood flowing from the hole in Maxim’s shoe, the brain splattered on the floor, and the space beneath the makeshift shelter he was using was barely enough for the adult male ankle.

“Maxim? Maxim! Hey!”

“…Damn it.”

The terrorists, who had been expecting Maxim to rise again, only started firing back after the man hiding behind the pillar fled.

*

Most guns acquired from the terrorists were somewhat awkward to use.

Either neglected or poorly maintained, their gun conditions were terrible, and they were all produced at least decades, if not a century ago, rendering them inferior to regular army firearms.

It is often said that if someone gets shot, they die, but that only applies if the weapon is well-maintained.

Old firearms struggle to hit their targets even with proper aim, and old bullets can’t penetrate the barriers that well-made ones can. Particularly revolvers—anything below .38 Special isn’t even worth using.

Yeah, and the ammo is a problem too.

Bullets rusting in places. Typical of terrorists who don’t care for their arms, the cartridges were in horrible shape. They were more likely to explode than fire when the trigger was pulled.

But necessity is the mother of invention.

Even these junk guns had a decent chance when fired up close.

“……!”

I grabbed the gun of a terrorist who was moving too close and raised it, pressing the revolver against his chest as I pulled the trigger.

-ㅡ!

A metallic sound erupted from the throat of the terrorist with a hole in his chest. Usually, when a lung gets pierced, you’d hear such a noise, and this guy had for sure punctured lungs.

I rushed out from the corner, dragging the dying terrorist with me. The terrorists running from the corner gasped in surprise, raising their guns but couldn’t bring themselves to fire at a comrade’s back.

Bang, bang, bang! Without aiming, I fired a shot, taking down three of them. I didn’t have time for precise aim.

Pushing aside the corpse, I dashed to my previously made makeshift shelter and hurriedly ducked down just as the surviving terrorists began to shoot in all directions.

“There! That bastard is hiding over there, I saw him!”

“Shoot! Shoot! Everyone shoot!”

The guns erupted simultaneously.

It seemed the terrorists were out for revenge for their fallen comrades, intent on turning me into Swiss cheese.

I scowled, bothered by the hearing impairment that had been torture all this time, and calmly discarded the battered revolver I’d been using. I pulled out the pistol I had received from the Military Intelligence Agency. No ammo.

All the handguns issued to employees under the Military Intelligence Agency, Royal Intelligence Department, and Cabinet Security Office, excluding the Special Investigation Bureau, are identical.

A pistol somewhat resembling the PPK.

The appearance is similar, and it holds eight rounds, including one in the chamber. Even the grip requires a distinct hold due to its short build, leaving the pinky dangling. Of course, the ammo is different.

I pressed the magazine release and removed the magazine. Then I inserted a new magazine.

The Military Intelligence Agency’s pistol does not feature a forward block like the PPK, so I had to grip the slide firmly and pull it back to let it go.

-Clack!

Gripping the pistol, I crouched low to peek through the hole at the ground below. A point about 20m away. I could see the feet of the terrorists standing there, frozen and firing their weapons.

I lay prone on the floor and fired at the terrorists’ feet.

With the footwear reduced to rags, the terrorist lost his balance and fell over, allowing me to shoot the head of the fallen terrorist who couldn’t even move. As I took down a couple of guys, the remaining terrorists scattered in fear, hiding behind sturdy-looking cover.

Although they only ‘looked’ sturdy, they were far from it; those hiding behind wooden tables or aluminum railings were easy targets.

-ㅡ! ㅡ! ㅡ! ㅡ!

I moved constantly, shedding the covers to take aim at the terrorists. Predictably, the terrorists were too scared to raise their heads, allowing me to reach another piece of solid cover safely.

Having shot down about half a dozen terrorists from my spot, it seemed the remaining ones, now thoroughly enraged, were desperate to shoot back at me at every opportunity.

“Ah, these bastards….”

Now they are trying to suppress me back too.

The terrorists held a variety of firearms; from single-action revolvers to shotguns and lever to bolt-action rifles, their firepower was formidable. What’s more, they had the numbers as well, putting me at a severe disadvantage.

I leaned against the solid cover and took a short breath of relief.

The makeshift barrier I created from weights taken from the fitness center held strong against the old bullets.

“……”

I reached into my jacket pocket and counted the bullets in the magazine.

As I rummaged through my pockets, I realized I only had two magazines left.

Two.

That was all.

*

“Ah, this isn’t the right place!”

Camila peeked in, her head poking out as she spoke to Lucia and Francesca.

“Are you sure? Maybe it’s just too dark and you misread….”

“Yes. There’s just a box inside. It’s an old warehouse.”

“She says that, Saint…?”

Francesca turned her head towards Lucia, who forced a bittersweet smile.

“What a pity. So what do we do with these two?”

Lucia pointed at the two terrorists sprawled on the floor. They looked lifeless, but the bubbling foam escaping their mouths revealed they weren’t dead, just unconscious.

They were subdued terrorists.

“Well…? I’m more puzzled about why terrorists are wandering around here in the first place….”

“Maybe something important is nearby? For now, let’s not kill them; we should leave them tied up. Do we have anything to bind them?”

“Not really. But how about we untie our shoelaces? They look long enough….”

“That would come off pretty quickly.”

“Wait a moment. Let me see if there’s anything to tie them up inside.”

Lucia emerged with a bundle of twine and some tape. While Camila immobilized the terrorists, Lucia and Francesca scoured the underground of the department store.

“I have no idea where the room the Colonel mentioned could be.”

“I bet even the Colonel didn’t expect the basement to be this vast….”

Find the room with the vibrations and noises deeper in the basement. The department store was eerily silent, without even a single ant crawling, and despite scrutinizing everywhere, there were no signs of vibrations or sounds.

“Wait a second.”

Camila, who had tied up the terrorists, stretched and stood up.

“I have a rough idea of where it might be, and I think I know where it is.”

“Really?”

“Follow me!”

With a shout, Camila dashed off, with puzzled expressions on Lucia and Francesca as they trailed after her. Camila led them through the underground of the department store like the Pied Piper, avoiding the center and skirting the outskirts.

After quite a while of zigzagging around, Camila finally exclaimed,

“…Ah, here it is! Come this way!”

They arrived at their destination.

*

I was down to only two magazines. I had tried to conserve as much as possible, picking up the fallen guns and using knives, but bringing too few magazines had been a blunder.

Bringing a pistol for VIP protection had been a wise choice. However, I didn’t foresee finding myself isolated in this situation.

Who could ever predict being stranded in the middle of the capital’s downtown for hours on end? I thought that if a moment to shoot came, the patrol car would arrive before I ran out of bullets, but the police were nowhere to be found. It’s like I couldn’t even get through to the office.

“…Phew.”

Things had spiraled out of control.

The bullets were nearly gone, and my body was battered. Thankfully, the terrorists weren’t shooting or pushing aggressively anymore, but the odds were still heavily against me.

This was really something.

I leaned my head against cover and let out a short sigh. The thought of being doomed filled my mind, but at this point, I felt more regret than anything. I should’ve brought a rifle instead of just a pistol for VIP protection. Or perhaps, I should’ve requested plainclothes officers to be on standby. Those thoughts were creeping in.

“…Hey.”

From the direction of the entrance, where the terrorists were stationed, someone broke the silence and spoke to me in Abas.

Naturally, I wasn’t going to speak, so the talker had to be a terrorist. I opened my ears and heightened my senses, taking aim with my pistol.

If it turned out the terrorists were planning to charge in, I needed to eavesdrop in advance.

But the terrorist spoke in Abas, not Kien.

“Are you still there?”

It was a familiar voice.

“I know you’re there, Investigator. I know you’re listening.”

“…….”

“Let’s talk. Just you and me.”

The self-proclaimed doctor—a terrorist who graduated from the Sezhanov Imperial Medical University—began conversing with me. His demeanor was markedly different from other terrorists, leaving me a bit taken aback.

What a wild card this is.

“…….”

I stayed silent. I was certain he would continue to talk, no matter how long I held my silence. Besides, I needed time.

I lifted my head briefly to check the time, waiting for the terrorist to speak again.

“I know you’re listening. Let’s resolve this through conversation.”

“…What do you mean, teacher? That guy right now—”

“Shh! Marco, don’t make a sound. You’ll endanger yourself.”

“But—”

“…….”

I concentrated on the conversation that reached my ears.

As a diplomat, an information officer must be fluent in the language of the host country for overseas deployments. This goes beyond just listening, reading, writing, and speaking; one must also be able to draft business emails and understand regional dialects or second languages. Otherwise, they would be of no use during foreign assignments.

In that context, Kien was one of the languages I could speak, as the Kien Empire was my designated area.

Focusing my mind and ears, I faintly captured the murmuring voices of the terrorists.

“A lot of kids have died, teacher. It’s because of that guy; no matter how strong your will is, we can’t leave him alive! Others won’t accept it!”

“That’s why we can’t fight here, Marco. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“We’ve already lost too many! Muhammad, Evgeny, Maxim, Franz….”

“Marco! We’re not savages. Remember, Marco. We don’t die for those who are dead; we need to let the living live!”

“That’s impossible right now, teacher!”

“Lower your voice, Irina! It’s dangerous!”

“…….”

From what I gathered, the outline began to take shape.

The ‘teacher’ who had spoken to me earlier seemed to hold a leadership role. For reasons unknown to me, he kept insisting on saving me and discussing negotiations. The way he proposed agenda points and led the conversation, with the others addressing him with honorifics, indicated he was the leader or at least held some authority.

The terrorists named ‘Marco’ and ‘Irina’ were opposing the teacher’s decisions.

Marco was somewhat ambiguous, using the negative attitude of the group as his argument to persuade the teacher, but Irina was quite clear. She kept babbling about how I needed to be killed or something.

“Bring him here and show people. They’ll want to tear him apart right away!?”

“What are you talking about? No matter how guilty he might be, we can’t kill someone mercilessly like that. That was the policy we decided upon before we even came here.”

“That was about not killing innocent people! Where’s the innocence in that guy? Does a citizen walk into a department store with a gun used by the military or police and shoot people?”

“From the way it sounds, it’s self-defense. They say he’s a police officer. You know, the principle of justifiable defense, Irina?”

“Shut up, Marco. That guy shot Morrians and ran away. Even if you want to spare him, who knows when he might turn on us!”

Smart move.

It seems he’s got a good eye for people after all.

“Alright, just sit down, Irina! Keep your voice down!”

“Ugh, ugh—”

“Teacher, I’ll calm Irina down, so you talk to him. I’ll take care of the injured.”

“…Thanks, Marco.”

“No problem. Stay safe.”

The conversation concluded.

As I mentally organized the discussion among the terrorists, I readied myself to rise and flee at any moment. For now, it seemed they wouldn’t attack me, but one can’t predict people’s actions.

I checked the time again and gripped the lighter tightly in my pocket.

I want a smoke.

“…Hey, are you listening?”

“Yeah. Here. You wanted to talk?”

“That’s right.”

“Fine by me.”

Hearing a cool response, the terrorist thanked me.

“Do your comrades not understand Abas?”

“That’s right. It’s just you and me talking.”

I conversed with the terrorist, keeping a sturdy obstacle and wide space between us. I couldn’t see him, but I could vaguely gauge the distance.

“What do you want?”

“Drop your weapon and surrender. Then I’ll let you live.”

“Unconditional surrender? Tsk, do you really think I’d do that?”

“No.”

The terrorist replied in a firm tone.

“If you were that kind of person, you would’ve surrendered already. There might never have been a reason to fight in the first place. I know you’re not the type to give up easily.”

“Then why bring that up?”

“Just in case. If by some slim chance you might put down your gun and surrender.”

The terrorist answered without a hint of hesitation or hesitation.

What a filthy romantic.

I couldn’t tell if he was pure-hearted or simply naïve. Talking to him made him seem like an idealist, but given he’s been rolling around in No Man’s Land, he couldn’t be the epitome of idealism. After being around shady characters all the time, I couldn’t quite adjust.

To play with him, I decided to stall for time by speaking up.

“If I surrender, it feels like your buddies wouldn’t let me live anyway. Am I wrong?”

“That might be true.”

“Of course, you’ll try to save me. Right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Why bother with that? We’ve just met today. From my perspective, saying this seems a bit late for a surrender, don’t you think?”

The terrorist replied.

“When it comes to people, there’s no such thing as too late or too early. We’re human.”

“…….”

“What makes a person human is not their nature, but their reasoning. That’s the only line separating the savages from the civilized.”

“That’s quite a philosophical statement. Didn’t you say you were a doctor?”

“Is there a rule that says a doctor can’t know philosophy?”

“Oh, damn…. If STEM majors delve into philosophy, what will the humanities live off of?”

At that moment, I noticed movement across from me. A glimpse of clothing and hair, shadows darting between structures, the crunch of glass being stepped on, and the sound of guns being readjusted.

The terrorists were moving.

Coming towards my side.

“…….”

I glanced at my watch and fervently prayed that Camila had found what she was looking for.

Amidst the sudden noise breaking the silence, the terrorist’s voice rang out.

“Think carefully. I can’t give you a lot of time to think!”

“…….”

“Is it really necessary to see blood here while we have so many days left to live? Let’s not waste young lives!”

Even while the terrorist yelled at me, the others were stealthily tightening the encirclement. They were untrained and quite clumsy, but they still made a threatening number.

As the terrorists drew close, I took a deep breath.

And then,

At a perfect moment of need,

-Bang!

“…Huh? What?!”

“What’s going on? Why did the lights go out?”

“Hey, I can’t see in front of me. This is scary.”

“Is it magic…?”

“Don’t make a sound, you idiots!”

The lights in the entire department store went out.

Distraught by the sudden darkness, the terrorists began stumbling around. I leaned back slightly, momentarily closing my eyes. Cloaked in darkness, all the surrounding noise faded into the distance.

“…Wow.”

While I didn’t expect to see it happen, I was truly impressed.

“You really pulled it off, Camila.”

*

In a darkened room. What was once brightly lit was now shrouded in darkness, and the machine-noise-filled area fell silent.

The open electrical board laid bare its complex interior, burning as thick cables were neatly severed. The charred ends glowed red, reminiscent of firewood, occasionally flaring up and nibbling at the remaining wires.

Standing in front of the now campfire-like board was Camila, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, admiring the scene.

 

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