By Zephyria =======
bootstrap://experiment_begin
The bright weather that had lasted all day is fading. The late afternoon sun pours its light onto the sea with all its might. Perched like a bird’s nest on the edge of a coastal cliff, a farmhouse is submerged in the sound of the waves. Atop the orange roof, a rusted whale-shaped weather vane creaks as it turns with the wind. In a corner of the yard, potatoes and cabbages stand side by side in the garden like best friends.
“Peek-a-boo. Peek-a-boo.”
In the farmhouse living room, a newborn baby babbles in the arms of an elderly couple, and beyond that peaceful noise, a woman hangs the laundry. Clothes and diapers pinned to the line flutter in the sea breeze. The woman, wringing out a piece of laundry, looks back. In a shaded corner of the yard, a man sitting on a bench beneath a tree is turning the pages of a book.
“Honey. The world is getting dangerous these days.”
The woman speaks as she spreads out the laundry to hang.
“Don’t you think we should evacuate before it’s too late? They say demons coming from the edge of the sea are attacking coastal villages indiscriminately.”
“Demons?”
The man lets out a short laugh as he turns a page.
“They are merely people coming from places that haven’t been discovered yet. The world is vast, and the world map simply hasn’t been filled in. To call unknown neighbors ‘demons’… I am always in awe of the stupid imagination of the people of Atania.”
At those words, the woman glares at him with an angry face. She aims the laundry gripped in her hand toward her husband before finally lowering it.
“Don’t say things like that. Because you keep doing this, the villagers suspect you’re a wizard. You’re always spouting bizarre words that sound like magic spells… Do you really want to be tied to a stake and burned?”
“I was merely stating facts.”
The man replies without taking his eyes off the book.
“Truths about this world. Hmph, I suppose to fools, it might sound like magic spells.”
“Don’t mock them. Those fools are the people we share the same well with! I’ve been losing sleep these past few days worrying about Luca and your parents. And of all things, your hair is gold…”
“What’s wrong with blonde hair? It’s just a color.”
“Didn’t you know that? They say all those demons are blonde.”
The man lifts his head.
“Blonde…? All of them…?”
“Yes.”
The woman spreads the laundry and shakes it out.
“They say every single one of them is blonde. They’re so similar in appearance that you can’t tell them apart at first glance.”
“Every single one blonde…? Similar faces…?”
“Yes, like statues made by pouring plaster into the same mold! Isn’t it bizarre just hearing about it? I heard survivors from the villages attacked by demons are even repainting the hair of saints in temple murals to colors other than gold.”
The man’s face contorts. His complexion becomes extremely pale, and his eyelids twitch.
“All… identical recessive phenotype… maintained…?”
Incoherent words spill out of his mouth.
“All bl-bl-blonde… all… cannot… be… genetic… genetic va-va-variation absence… proba-probabilistically… im-im-impossible…”
“Honey? Are you starting again?”
“Genetic… im-impossible. Va-va-variation… lack of diversity. Single phenotype species… long-term survival im-impossible…”
“What are you excited about now? Good grief, I can’t deal with this!”
The woman hurriedly approaches the man. The man springs up and stares out at the sea.
“Bl-blonde… bl-blonde… single… trait… group… all of them…”
“Honey, calm down! Catch your breath! One two, one two!”
“Genetic… impossible… single group… main-maintaining… probability… converges to impossible… natural occurrence impossible… ar-artificial intervention… or… a designed framework… Who… is forcing… this world…”
“Alright, calm your excitement. Exhale slowly…!”
The woman, who had been patting her husband’s back, suddenly freezes. Since some unknown moment, several ships have been approaching from the distant sea.
“What is it? They don’t look like fishing boats…”
The woman mutters, unable to hide her anxiety. A strange silence hangs over the ships as they stride toward the village. Staring silently at the ships, the woman clutches her husband’s sleeve.
“Honey, let’s run. I’ve never seen that many ships arrive at this village all at once in my entire life.”
The man says nothing. A bluebird flying from somewhere lands softly on the man’s shoulder. For some reason, the bird tilts its small head at an unnatural angle and looks toward the sea. The ships have grown significantly closer in the meantime. The woman collapses to the ground.
“Honey! Do you see them? Those sailors, they’re all blonde! They’re demons!”
“Specimen… target group…”
The man murmurs lowly. The woman clutches her husband’s ankle with trembling hands.
“Honey, what do we do! What about our Luca!”
Instead of answering, the man smiles. His face is vacant, as if lost in thought. The woman turns and crawls toward the farmhouse.
“Mother! Father! Quick, the carriage…! The demons…!”
The elderly couple rushes out of the farmhouse in a panic. The baby held in their arms bursts into tears. The woman grits her teeth, stands up, and runs toward the stable. Amidst this chaos, the man’s gaze remains fixed only on the sea.
“A group of… genetic errors. Physical… specimens… ar-ar-arriving.”
The crimson sunlight stains the man. He slowly spreads his arms wide. Toward the sea, as if welcoming an old friend.
undercover://false_captive
Escape, when envisioned in one’s head, was brilliantly simple.
A pirate ship floats on the sea. Silver grabs Charcoal Fire Bear by the collar and thrusts a dagger right in front of his nose.
‘Turn toward the nearest land port. If you don’t listen, your nose will be the first to disembark.’
The pirate ship hurriedly changes direction. As soon as they reach the port, Silver leaps onto the pier. The end!
However, reality was different from imagination. Well, when was it ever not?
From the day after he decided to escape, the sky poured down rain. Damnably, it was an autumn storm. The waves blocked the entrance to the port, and all the ships of the Shark Tooth Gang remained tightly tied to the docks, endlessly facing the wind.
For several days, Silver spent his time lying on the bed in his quarters. The house the pirates had provided as new recruit quarters was essentially a flimsy wooden box. Rainwater leaking from various spots in the roof(?) formed small puddles on the floor. Only the bed where the person lay managed to avoid all those streams of water. It was as if the roof had mercifully left exactly one survival zone.
Starry eyes poked its head out from the belt pouch.
〔My wings are heavy because of the humidity, pururu.〕
“I’m heavy too, you brat. This damn face skin.”
It wasn’t a joke. The human-skin mask he wore on his face had absorbed water and swollen up. Whoever’s face this was, they were suffering even in death. Still, after spending a few days in this wooden box, wearing a human-skin mask felt trivial. If they just moved him to a house with a proper roof, he could keep it on for another ten years.
When doing nothing, stray thoughts create a commotion in the head. Silver’s thoughts rewound to the past once more.
‘Silver! What did I say last night?’
As soon as he woke from his drunken stupor, Black Weasel spoke. Silver, who was sprawled in front of the fireplace warming his hands, replied bluntly.
‘Why? Do you think you made a slip of the tongue?’
‘Uh…’
Black Weasel scratched his head vigorously with both hands.
‘I don’t know if it’s a memory or a dream, but I said you were my bi…’
‘It wasn’t a dream.’
Silver cut Black Weasel off.
‘You said you were my biological father. And I answered that I knew.’
Black Weasel stared at Silver with his mouth agape. Eventually, he swallowed hard and squeezed the words out.
‘Listen, Silver. I am your biological father. Which means… you have a separate father.’
‘Is that so?’
Silver shrugged his shoulders once.
‘So you spent a night with a married woman from some remote tribe and then drank alcohol provided by her husband, is that it? That husband is my father?’
However, as far as Silver remembered, his mother had no ‘husband.’ She just had many boyfriends.
Since he was so young, his memories were hazy, but it seemed his mother had been a wanderer. She would live in some man’s house for a few months, have a big fight, and then leave.
It’s a common story in Stohl. A woman who fled because she grew tired of her husband.
‘Do you think he’d accept me now if I went looking for my father? Che, I’d be lucky if I didn’t get beaten up. Children born to dr-dr-dr are only loved when the couple gets along.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
Black Weasel shut his mouth and glared at Silver for a moment.
‘There is a story. I can’t tell you in detail right now, but your father was a great man. You are his only son. Just know that much for now.’
‘…Huh? That man?’
Silver frowned.
‘Saying it like that actually makes me curious. What is it, what? Tell me now.’
‘Later.’
‘Then at least tell me who the guy was that hired you to kill my mom’s lover! You were targeting that lover uncle and accidentally killed my mom too, right? Right! Who was the broker who brought you that job!’
Black Weasel shook his head.
‘I told you I can’t tell you that. There’s such a thing as professional ethics.’
As always, the argument escalated into a fistfight. Silver stopped his reminiscence here. Suddenly, a chilling question reared its head. This memory… is it actually real?
What if it’s a delusion I made up because I’ve gone mad?
79 – Hell Execution Order