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Emotions are volatile. Forgetting acts like a natural abrasive that occurs over time, making it extremely difficult to maintain one’s original feelings no matter how hard you try to hold on.

That’s exactly why we praise those who manage to retain their initial intentions as remarkable.

Forgetting and familiarity wash away the emotions buried in the chest and deceive the heart. Once emotions have evaporated, it’s tough to retrieve them, and rebuilding collapsed boundaries is virtually impossible.

By the same logic,

“يرجع. التراث القبلي.(Return. Tribal Heritage.) تابوت الارز.(Cedar Coffin.)”

When the hulking figure crawled out of the inferno and began speaking in a barely comprehensible short Mauritanian dialect,

“…….”

“…Um, big guy. Frederick?”

“…Um?”

“…Put on some clothes and stop rambling, you idiot.”

It was unavoidable that the figure, which had just moments ago looked like a demon, now appeared to be a public indecency offender in a state of undress.

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Breaking and entering, robbery, special assault, illegal magic use under Law No. 71, public indecency, and countless other crimes.

The current suspect had committed innumerable offenses to the point where listing them individually would be exhausting—a half-naked muscular tattooed pig-man, or simply put, a perverted jerk.

After interrogating this idiot I caught while searching the premises, I gained some shocking information.

First, the identity of the intruder.

“I. Shamar. Here. Hometown tribe.”

The half-naked performance artist (or, as some might call it, a barbarian) was a traveler from some rural area in the Mauritania Continent. He introduced himself as ‘Shamar,’ and at first, I thought it was a name, but it turned out not to be.

“Are you Shamar?”

“Yes.”

“Is Shamar your name?”

“No.”

“Are you playing 20 Questions with me? I asked for a name, not some nonsense! This is totally weird!”

“Yikes! Calm down, calm down!”

Akande. That was this jerk’s name.

‘Shamar’ was the title he held, meaning his role in the tribe. According to Camila, who volunteered as a translator (because rather than fighting due to the language barrier, she decided to step in), ‘Shamar’ derived from a word meaning ‘guardian’ or ‘watchman.’

In short, this guy was a guardian of something.

“A watchman? This idiot?”

“What happens if you call a person ‘idiot’….”

“Well, it isn’t entirely impossible.”

Even after being stabbed, cut, and burned all over by Camila’s magic from close range, he remained intact. It had been ages since his burns or cuts vanished entirely.

Incredible vitality and recovery. Not to mention bizarre full-body tattoos and unfamiliar abilities! It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say he was more of a professional mercenary than a mere guardian.

There were two interpretations of the fact that the guardian had stepped away from his post.

Either he had abandoned his duties and left for elsewhere.

Or he had left to find something to protect.

In this case, his situation belonged to the latter.

“Robbers broke into the temple of the tribe and stole heritage items, which they chased down all the way to the Necropolis. It was ‘Shamar’s’ duty to protect the temple and its heritage, so he had been wandering the city for weeks, determined to retrieve them by any means necessary, when suddenly he felt traces of the heritage in a building… energy? Power? Something like that.”

“The place where he felt that energy was our lodging?”

“Yes. So, he sneaked into the building.”

The third piece of information I gathered explained how he ended up washed up in the dead whale’s port and why he rummaged through our accommodations.

The robbers invaded the temple that Akande was guarding. They stole the items of the tribe and fled.

Akande, who was a Shamir, came to the Necropolis following the robbers’ traces. And today, he met us.

Although he didn’t mention what those heritage items were or why they needed to be retrieved or who the robbers were, I felt no need to press further.

The first piece of information I learned from our initial encounter held the answer.

“That cursed heritage item is the Cedar Coffin?”

The Cedar Coffin.

That resolved all my questions. The reason they needed to recuperate the heritage, the identity of the robbers, Akande’s purpose for being here, and the motive for invading our lodging all fit together.

Camila nodded in agreement.

“Yes. I really don’t know what it signifies, but… anyway, that’s this man’s claim.”

…Crap. Thanks to one insane cult jerk, the situation had gotten thoroughly entangled. Ruffling my hair frantically, I clicked my tongue.

The reason Akande literally tried to attack me while rummaging through our lodging was because of these jerks. No, it was entirely because of them.

The half-naked muscular pig had mistakenly exerted some kind of magic or sorcery on me because he thought I was one of those damned cult members.

While Camila was jotting down Akande’s testimony, she suddenly stared at me with a tilted head.

“According to him, he sensed the robbers’ energy who invaded the tribe’s temple from you, Frederick. It was really faint, and before approaching, he didn’t realize it, but as soon as he saw you, he felt it. At first, he thought he was attacking robbers because you shot your gun….”

“So?”

“Now, looking at you, it doesn’t seem like you show the signs of a robber who stole the heritage. They think you don’t seem strong enough to steal the heritage anyway. In any case, he apologizes for the misunderstanding.”

“…Is that what you call just tossing someone in the trash and saying sorry, you jerk—”

“Ah! Stop! No more swearing!”

*

After salvaging our intact luggage and documents, I disposed of all unnecessary equipment without a second thought.

We had burned down an innocent building, but Bereda didn’t mind at all. The Palm Tree Trade Guild was affluent, and the branch in Necropolis was a new establishment that Guild Master Hormoz spared no investment for.

Bereda, the head of the Necropolis branch, even suggested that if anyone sustained injuries, they should call a doctor without feeling burdened.

Of course, I declined that offer.

“What do we do now?”

In the supplies room of the Palm Tree Trade Guild Necropolis branch.

Camila, sipping hot cocoa topped with heaps of whipped cream, asked the question.

“According to regulations, when a conflict occurs with a third party, we dispose of equipment and move to the next lodging. We’ll communicate with the headquarters to decide whether to stay or escape.”

“What is the company saying?”

I replied while unwrapping a sandwich I had brought.

“They say to get that jerk and get out.”

The fluttering wrapping pointed to somewhere. Camila shifted her gaze there and began scolding me with a horrified expression.

“Why do you use such bad expressions toward a person?”

“Because I want to.”

“Hah. Really….”

Gulp! The loud burp cut through her sigh.

I had given a clear hint, but it seemed the barbaric muscle pig had gulped down courtesy along with the hint, burping satisfactorily.

Five fish bought from the local fish market near the port, half a goat slaughtered and cooked in traditional nomadic style, boiled eggs with pilaf…

Akande devoured a meal substantial enough for a typical family of five in one sitting. To make matters worse, he chugged down a goblet filled with Jallab (a traditional drink made with dates and rose water, often mixed with raisins, pine nuts, and honey for added flavor).

Having worked in the Middle East and seen locals stuff themselves during Ramadan, I had met many hearty eaters, but I had never seen anyone devour like Akande.

Wait, maybe I had seen someone like that once?

“…Why are you suddenly looking at me?”

“I was just… there was no other meaning.”

Avoiding the piercing gaze of those blue eyes, I lowered my gaze. But soon I raised my head again, meeting Camila’s eyes with a straight look.

I feared the real flame of outrage, but I still felt I had to say something.

“Camila. To be honest, we have to do something about…”

“About that person.”

“Aren’t we supposed to do something about that person?”

Camila tilted her arms slightly and raised her eyebrows as if to ask what I wanted to say.

Frustrated, I pointed at Akande and raised my voice.

“It’s fine when he’s sitting still, but at least he should keep some manners!”

After all, we’d be parting ways as soon as we found a way out of the Necropolis. The Military Intelligence Agency’s report had already been relayed to the Government of Abas, who would soon send someone to take over Akande’s custody.

We wouldn’t see each other again for good in just a few days, but surely for those few days, he should at least behave like a human being.

At the very least, he shouldn’t burp while someone else is eating.

I shook the uneaten sandwich in my hand, passionately voicing my complaints. Yet Camila just continued to frown at me.

“What do you want me to do about it? Isn’t it weird for me to scold an adult man?”

“It’s not your responsibility?!”

“Why is it my responsibility here?”

“It’s the duty of a white person.”

“…….”

Blink. Blink.

Camila blinked repeatedly, as if trying to comprehend what was being said. Then, suddenly, her expression hardened.

“…@%^$^#&@#!!

She suddenly let out a peculiar scream and started fuming.

As the heat rose, turning her face a beet-red, sparks flew from Camila’s mouth. It was a precursor to a fiery breath.

If I just stood there, I was sure to get roasted like a marshmallow, so I quickly shoved a sandwich into her mouth and bolted outside.

“…Hey! Don’t just stand there!?”

Her furious shout followed late.

*

The official name of the Necropolis. As the name suggests, “the port of dead whales,” the quickest and most effective means of leaving this place is not by land, but by sea.

However, sailing a ship isn’t something you can just snap your fingers at. Port of departure, destination, routes, inspections, and more. There are hundreds of checks and paperwork involved just to get a ship in and out.

So, we had no choice but to leave the city on the scheduled ship departure date.

“When are we leaving?”

“In three days. A ship from the Trade Guild will be heading to Kenbe Harbor to load goods.”

The plan is simple.

A ship belonging to the Palm Tree Trade Guild (specifically known for its tax havens in the Sobav Islands) will leave the Necropolis at precisely 2 AM in three days.

The destination is Kenbe Harbor, located 472 miles to the east. There, goods and materials needed for this branch will be loaded, then returned via a stopover.

Once we leave the Necropolis and enter international waters, the ship will momentarily slow down. At that point, we’ll ‘coincidentally’ join a passing troll ship to return.

I sipped on some traditional Mauritania tea and spat.

“Here I am, riding an underwater golem instead of an SDV.”

“SD, what?”

Joaquin, who was busy breaking sugar cubes with a teaspoon, asked what that meant.

I waved my hand dismissively, signaling it was nothing.

“Well! I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be more fun than an underwater golem. You’ll find out how much fun that toy is if you try it!”

“It could sink and go poof, but calling it a toy is a bit….”

Just as I was about to add “isn’t it?”, Joaquin suddenly shoved his nose into the wrecked sugar cubes and started snorting.

“Sluuurp— Hah….”

“…….”

“This one’s not great. Bad quality. Where’d you get it?”

“That’s sugar.”

“Oh, it’s sugar? That explains the coarse granules. Adults do say not to mess with their food, and I guess that phrase applies to right now. Hah ha!”

What an idiot.

I clicked my tongue at the sight of the junkie magician who couldn’t even tell the difference between sugar and cocaine. Of course, it was all just a joke.

Since returning to the Necropolis, Joaquin was clearly unable to contain his playfulness. I heard he was already a prankster back at the Magic Tower, but something about the Joaquin I met again after several years seemed a bit off, even to Francesca.

To say he had gone a bit, or rather, very crazy. It wasn’t just because of his drug use.

During the last operation, I observed him at his house and found him not very social at all. He wasn’t active either. He just shut himself in his room, repeating the same routine of research, meals, drugs, and sleep. With a life like that, layered on top with drug addiction, he seemed completely unable to take care of himself.

Even so, after escaping the Necropolis, he quit smoking weed (I had asked the Hassan Warlord for a place and requested he not sell drugs no matter what) and got some sunshine, and he transformed completely. I wondered if this was really the same junkie I used to know.

Of course, his mad scientist persona still remained unchanged. Perhaps that was just his nature rather than a side effect of drugs.

He was an inherently foolish person, not a fool created by circumstances.

“By the way. Last time, I saw you developed a monster-catching powder created by Francesca?”

“What’s that?”

“A rat-catching medicine!”

Rat-catching medicine? There are plenty of those on the market.

I stared at him, wondering if he was bragging about something ordinary, and suddenly, an excited Joaquin began rummaging through his bag.

“This isn’t just an ordinary medicine! Take a look!”

After searching diligently, he pulled out a large syringe and a live rat.

No way, is he planning to inject poison into that rat? The thought crossed my mind for a brief moment. Joaquin detached the needle and dropped the injected rat onto the floor.

-Squish! Squeak! Squeak!

The rat lay on the floor convulsing, twisting its body, drooling everywhere, and shaking like something out of a zombie movie.

After about 30 seconds of twitching, it seemed to calm down and got up, looking fine.

Then the incident happened.

As Joaquin brought out a new rat and placed it nearby, the drugged rat lunged at it, starting to attack. Biting, scratching, stomping. The rat went on a rampage against its own kind, breathing heavily over the body of its victim before suddenly collapsing to the side.

The rat that killed the other rat met its own demise.

“…Wow.”

That was supposed to be a joke. He was a real mad scientist.

While I was momentarily flabbergasted by the unexpected drug’s effect, Joaquin scratched his head as if it were bothering him and tossed the syringe aside.

“But this is a failed project. It did catch rats on either end, but it wasn’t the effect I intended. Ah, alchemy is harder than I thought.”

“What was the intended effect? It seems fine even now.”

“Honestly, I wanted to make their offspring infertile to eliminate them!”

I need to correct myself. He’s not just a crazy guy; he’s a Hitler-level lunatic.

Before Joaquin goes off insisting on exterminating the Untermenschen due to his obsession with eugenics, I briefly considered whether I should just shoot his remaining balls (or whatever they were), but thankfully, my worries were unfounded.

After the rat-catching medicine failed, Joaquin completely lost interest in that area. Instead, he declared his lofty ambition to use his alchemy knowledge to develop high-quality marijuana.

I couldn’t understand why this guy keeps reverting back to drugs, but whatever.

Whether he ends up as a historic mass murderer or the century’s drug lord is something I can’t tell yet, but anyway, Joaquin was one of the assets I managed.

“Alright. Let’s wrap up the small talk and focus.”

I decided to assign him a few tasks.

“You’re going to stay in the city for a while, so you’ll be helping with lodging and meals at the Palm Tree Trade Guild. However, you also need to assist with the guild’s work and mine a bit.”

“Think of it as lodging costs, right? Of course, I will. So what should I do first?”

“Well… Do you know the man who just came in? The big fella?”

Joaquin, tapping his lips with his fingers like playing a keyboard, exclaimed softly, “Ah, the guy as big as a telephone pole? Covered in tattoos and all.”

“Yes.”

I requested Joaquin to gather information on Akande. To be precise.

“I’d appreciate it if you could figure out what that guy was up to in the Necropolis. It would be great if you could know what he did before coming here and where he came from.”

“Got it! Anything else?”

“There’s a cult organization called Al Kair. They were the ones on Ash Tree Alley, the ones I was tracking down last time; remember? Please gather information on them as well.”

Akande and Al Kair. This was what I entrusted Joaquin with.

He didn’t seem to think it was an especially difficult job and readily agreed, exuding confidence typical of a Necropolis resident.

“Is that all I need to do?”

“Yes. Just keep me updated as soon as information comes in. You can call regularly, so if anything happens, don’t hesitate… Huh?”

“Suddenly, what’s up? Did you see something interesting?”

As soon as I broke off my words and turned my gaze, Joaquin started cupping his hands to make binoculars and began to fuss around.

Realizing his frantic glance around, I finally got my wits back.

“…No. It’s nothing.”

I hurriedly regained my composure and patted Joaquin on the shoulder to calm him down.

“I must have been mistaken.”

“What is it? I’m curious; let me in on it too.”

“…….”

I didn’t get a good look, but I felt like I just saw a familiar face.

 

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