For the first few seconds, the man didn't even seem to know where he was.
His eyelids fluttered as his bloodshot eyes darted across the ceiling. He finally seemed to find his bearings, taking in the unfamiliar rafters, the dim lighting, and the cloying stench of medicine and cheap booze.
The moment he remembered, his muscles twitched as he tried to bolt upright. I didn't let him. I pinned him to the mattress, my left hand tightening around his throat.
"—Gubuh."
A pathetic sound, like a squashed frog, croaked from his windpipe.
He opened his mouth to scream, so I applied a little more pressure with my fingertips. The hard ridges of his trachea pressed against my palm. Before my eyes, the man’s face turned from a flush red to a sickly shade of blue.
Tears welled in his eyes as he finally recognized my face.
I watched the color drain from his skin even further.
Once I was sure he was focused entirely on me, I brought my right hand up and pressed a single finger against my lips.
Shhh.
The agony in his throat, the murderous intent radiating from us, and the heavy silence finally got through to him.
He gave up. The man gave a frantic, trembling nod.
I slowly eased my hand off his throat.
The second he was free, his body lurched as he collapsed into a fit of filthy coughing. The air trapped in his lungs exploded out, bringing with it the sweet, nauseating scent of alcohol.
After his coughing fit subsided, he glared up at me with bloodshot eyes.
"Y-You... the Repairman...! W-Why are you here...?"
He forced the words out in a raspy whisper, clutching his throat as he spoke.
He really was a simpleton. Even now, he didn't seem to grasp the gravity of his situation.
"Shut up. Just answer my questions."
I kept my voice low and cold. The man looked like he wanted to spit, but he gave a reluctant nod.
With his cooperation secured, I glanced at Kaya, who had moved to the side of the bed.
My former partner, currently wearing the skin of a young boy, let her lips curl into a familiar, wicked grin.
"Hiii. Be a good boy and stay still, okay? If you try anything, it’ll be slash-slash for you."
She touched the tip of her knife to his throat.
The light caught the blade’s edge, sending a cold flash across his skin. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
Good. Let's move this along.
"What is the relationship between The Order and Eradicata?" I asked point-blank.
The man swallowed hard and plastered a thin, oily smile on his face.
"...They're a cash cow. You saw them, right? The flowers outside. I don't know how they grow the damn things, but selling them is a gold mine. Not that the people in The Order seem to care much about the profit, though."
As he spoke, a Speech Bubble floated gently above his head.
<Tch, with that much volume, we could be selling ten times as much. We could expand the operation. If I were the one calling the shots...>
His expression was all smiles, but his mind was slick with greed. He actually thought he was going to walk away from this. Truly, a blissful idiot.
Well, it was exactly what I’d expected.
"Are any other Eradicata members involved besides you?"
"Well, who knows? I don't exactly get briefed on everyone’s side projects."
<As if I'd let any of those other bastards in on a deal this sweet. I’m going to keep this for myself, and eventually...>
Hmm.
So, on the surface at least, he was acting on his own. I didn't know how much the other executives suspected, but it wouldn't be unlike them to just let him run with it and see where the money went.
"Assuming The Order gave you the flowers—what did you give them in return? Cash?"
The man shrugged and spread his hands with theatrical flair.
"It was a healthy business transaction, of course. Just business."
<Dealing with people who want humans instead of cash is a pain, though. And "designated" targets, no less. God, kidnappings are such a chore.>
Kidnappings. Specifically, targets chosen by name.
This wasn't some impulsive snatch-and-grab like the Slum punks did; there was a specific goal here.
"I see. ...By the way, does the name Cecily ring a bell?"
I kept my tone deliberately casual.
The man’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second.
"...Hmm? Cecily, was it? Never heard of her. Who is she?"
<Cecily... Cecily Rainburg. She was on the Priority Capture List from the Order. Does the Repairman have something to do with her?>
Too bad for him. The name had registered perfectly.
The moment he thought of it, his eyes darted toward the terminal sitting on the bedside table.
...Found it.
That was where the list was stored.
"That's a shame. So, what’s The Order doing in a hole like this? They can't just be growing flowers, right?"
"We wouldn't know... our interactions are strictly professional."
<I tried to dig for some dirt to use as blackmail, but I couldn't find a thing... Creepy bastards.>
So even these guys hadn't reached the heart of the mystery.
If this group—who weren't entirely incompetent—couldn't find anything, this was going to be a headache.
"How did you get in touch with The Order?"
A look of blatant self-importance crossed the man's face.
"One of their executives came to me personally. Apparently, they recognized my... unique talents. I brushed them off at first, but then I saw the flowers. I knew instantly they would sell. Honestly, my own intuition and charisma are a little frightening sometimes."
He sounded genuinely proud of himself.
His Speech Bubble told a different story.
<Those cultists know how to play on greed. They just wanted a convenient pawn. Since I had the connections for the kidnappings, I was the perfect fit...>
So The Order had initiated contact.
Flowers and human resources.
In both cases, they wanted a bridge to "Upper Neo Babel." This guy was that bridge—a convenient tool who mistakenly believed he was some kind of chosen partner.
But why now? According to the farmers outside, this partnership was a recent development.
"Well—I think I’ve heard enough."
As I muttered those words, the man’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
He looked up at me with a look of pure relief.
"Oh? Well, you're quite easygoing, aren't you? I'm surprised you have such a terrifying reputation. I don't see what the fuss is about."
He shook his head, a flippant smirk returning to his face.
The panic from moments ago had vanished completely.
<No torture? What a softy. I’ll make him pay for this later...>
The Speech Bubble cut off abruptly.
I had given the signal.
In the next instant, Kaya’s knife opened his throat in a single, clean horizontal stroke.
The man’s eyes bulged, his brain unable to process what had just happened.
He tried to open his mouth, but the red spray geysering from his own throat rushed in. He tried to scream, but only a wet, dying breath escaped his lips.
Blood splattered across the sheets and the floor.
The light slowly faded from his eyes.
"So, how was it?"
Kaya asked as she flicked her knife. She had been holding up a spare sheet to block the blood, which she now tossed aside. She wiped the blade with a piece of cloth, her tone as breezy as if we were discussing the weather.
"Yeah. As far as Eradicata goes, he was the only one involved. I'm still not sure what The Order is after, but they were using him for kidnappings. There’s a list, so I'm going to check it."
I picked up the terminal from the nightstand.
It was a dull black unit, a mass-produced model with no flair. Pathetic. Normally, an executive would put more effort into their security. Being this careless was exactly why he got used.
The lock used dual authentication: fingerprint and iris.
"Yeah, yeah. What a hard worker, being useful even after he’s dead," Kaya joked.
I just shrugged.
I grabbed the man's still-warm hand and pressed his thumb against the sensor.
Beep.
Next, I tilted his head toward me and held his eye open in front of the iris scanner. Authentication still works if the body hasn't cooled.
Lock Released.
The data flooded the screen.
Eradicata ledgers, back-alley routes, flower transaction logs, and communication history with The Order.
I initiated a full transfer to my backup terminal, connecting the cable and sucking up the encrypted data.
While the progress bar crawled across the screen, I dug for my primary objective.
The list, the list... where’s the kidnapping data...
I found it almost immediately.
It was nestled inside the logs sent from The Order, meticulously organized into folders.
I opened the file.
It was a long string of names and personal data.
Age, gender, residential district, occupation—and priority level. It was divided into tabs. The "Highest Priority List" contained only a dozen names.
And on that list, I saw names I knew.
Cecily Rainburg.
Lucia Rainburg.
Lucia, too?
I opened the other tabs, skimming the text.
The districts, occupations, and ages were all over the map. At a glance, there was no logical connection between them.
—But.
I went back to the Highest Priority tab.
As I read through the names one by one, the pieces began to click together in my mind.
...No way.
Suddenly, the truth hit me with the force of a physical blow.
Every person on this list...
They were all people I had "Repaired" in the past.