Chapter 50: Sometimes Reality is More Like Fiction Than Fiction (1)

A dark and desolate back alley.

A middle-aged man with a tobacco in his mouth stood in the street.

His scarred face suddenly filled with bewilderment.

'Hannibal got taken down? Just like that?'

He knew about the Silence of the Lambs.

He knew how meticulous their leader was.

In spaces beyond the reach of public authority. For someone who operated in the underworld, it would have been impossible not to have heard of that infamous name - especially since he and Hannibal had maintained a certain friendship.

Buffalo Bill.

The grotesque serial killer who wore his victims' skin.

Though they weren't part of the same organization, they had cooperated several times. They'd even had pleasant conversations, finding common ground in their artistic sensibilities.

While he might have had the upper hand in terms of black magic achievements, when it came to secrecy and meticulousness, Hannibal was far superior.

For such a man to be defeated so simply.

It was impossible to believe, really.

Of course, what he felt was only bewilderment, not anger.

'We weren't that close anyway.'

The children Hannibal had so persistently brainwashed.

While he might have felt differently about his own subordinates or followers, Bill had no reason to feel any sense of loss over an outsider's death.

What struck him more strongly was a sense of warning.

A man who had so meticulously hidden his identity. The new professor had seen through such a disguise without breaking a sweat.

'Insight bordering on future sight, mastery of the Heart-Sword, reaching the level of Archmage and even interpreting the Rune Language. It was hard to believe he was even human.'

A monster that defied common sense.

A superhuman that belonged in myths rather than reality.

Nothing good could come from catching such a person's eye.

Though compromising on art was unpleasant, one had to be alive to create art in the first place.

Don't provoke Ryan's mood.

Leave this country as quickly as possible, even if it meant pushing things.

That was clearly the wise decision.

If he had been foolish enough not to realize even this much, he would have been caught and executed long ago.

When it was time to run, you had to run.

That's why the man stubbed out his tobacco and focused on preparing to leave. That future should have arrived, and yet...

Why on earth?

Suddenly his legs refused to obey his control.

His feet wouldn't lift from the ground.

What flashed through Bill's mind were memories that didn't exist.

Recollections of times spent with Hannibal as if they were blood brothers, sharing intimate moments.

Talking warmly while giving advice about art, fighting while trusting each other in crucial moments, overcoming difficulties together to become sworn brothers.

Though he clearly never experienced such things. Yet somehow these memories flowed into Buffalo Bill's mind.

Someone who meant nothing to him until just now.

That should have been true, yet now tears flowed unbidden.

The singular thought of revenge made his heart race.

The stubborn determination to repay this pain to Ryan. It paralyzed his reason.

What came to mind was a plan to kill that professor.

A power that used souls as fuel.

If he could burn every soul he had collected until then, even his own, and pour it all into a single strike...

He could definitely end that man's life.

Of course, such an act would only bring losses.

Even if successful, he couldn't survive himself. A foolish act of throwing away his life for revenge.

Logically, he should just give up and let it go, but what controlled him then wasn't logic.

A fate rewritten by the flesh doll.

A future arbitrarily rewritten and confirmed.

The flow of the world commanded him to become Ryan's enemy.

The ending that professor had struggled to avoid.

To bring it about by his own hands.

To give him what he feared most.

...Death to Ryan.

To take the life of that new professor.

As if possessed by something, Bill muttered these words to himself as he wandered the dark back alley.

*****

Looking at the scene unfolding before me, I thought.

Maybe I was the one who had been strange all along.

It wasn't that the whole world was crazy - I was the only crazy one. That's why everyone else seemed strange to me.

Clearly manipulating stock prices to extort money.

And as if that wasn't enough, spouting all sorts of inhumane words while acting like human garbage.

A person impossible to associate with.

A despicable fraudster and criminal.

When such human trash strutted around in front of everyone, the reaction from ordinary people wasn't to throw tomatoes while unanimously condemning the criminal.

Rather, as if facing some deity, they shed tears of repentance while looking up with fanatic eyes.

Clearly I was the one who committed fraud. Yet people apologized to me with guilty faces. It had gotten to the point where I was confused about who the real criminal was.

But perhaps this is the normal way of thinking.

If someone steals your money on the street, you should thank them. You should worship them asking how they could be so noble. That must be common sense in this reversed world...

'...There's no way that's right. What even is this?'

A criminal organization suddenly appearing.

Yet I didn't lose my grip on reason.

Words perfect for getting buried. I spat them all out as they came to mind, showing an ugly side.

But what came back was an incomprehensible response.

They were so angry just moments ago. It was such an about-face it made me wonder if this was a ninja village.

I need to somehow quickly ruin my image.

But how can I make these lunatics hate me? They seem ready to cheer even if I suddenly took off my pants and started dancing.

An unsolvable problem. As I continued to wander lost unable to find an answer, time flowed on.

"Everyone, there's no need to worry anymore."

Appearing as if to call time-out was a small girl.

Lucy Leonhardt flashed me a triumphant smile as she strode forward to face the reporters.

Lucy declared proudly before everyone.

"You no longer need to fear the night. The villain who threw the Empire into chaos has paid for his crimes."

That she had killed Hannibal Lecter.

That she had eliminated the criminal organization that had disturbed the Empire.

"This was all thanks to Professor Ryan's cooperation."

And that all of this was my achievement, she said.

"If he hadn't informed the Imperial Family about H.L. Corporation's true nature, that ruthless criminal would surely still be strutting around proudly even at that moment."

I don't know how to thank Professor Ryan.

The 5th Imperial Princess bowed her head to me as she said this.

This situation was already horrific enough, but those small lips still wouldn't stop.

"I know why you're all gathered here. But I want to tell you there's no need to worry about this either."

Telling the shareholders to rest assured.

I instantly sensed what would follow, but my pathetic reflexes couldn't stop it.

The girl declared to everyone with a bright smile:

"This was an accident caused by a misunderstanding during a confidential state operation. We will take full responsibility for any damages incurred."

The assets seized from the criminal organization. If anyone's livelihood was affected, they would be compensated using those funds.

These were people who showed such attitudes even after losing money.

And now if the money issue was resolved too, their reaction was all too clear.

Cheers erupted instantly.

Countless people chanting my name.

My mind grew distant at this nonsensical scene.

My legs started to stagger from the dizziness.

But this wouldn't cause me to collapse.

Even if I wanted to pass out and fall, I couldn't.

Bang, a loud gunshot.

It rang out without any warning.

A bullet filled with countless vengeful souls flew toward me. I didn't have the reflexes to dodge bullets. Normally my head should have been blown off right then, but...

Having staggered back slightly from the dizziness.

The bullet miraculously grazed my cheek as it passed.

The Supreme Court building right behind the press conference.

The bullet struck the building where the Empire's flag waved, exploding with a tremendous boom.

People lost their minds in panic.

The guard squad that gathered without being called.

Karen and the other students rushed to shield me with crazed looks. But my strength was still weak.

My posture crumbled and I flailed at their charge like being body-slammed. An utterly chaotic situation.

But here, just one person.

One alone remained calm as if entranced.

Standing dazed with mouth agape holding a camera.

The man gazed at the scene unfolding before him.

The journalist, Cromwell, instinctively pressed the shutter.

What was captured was a scene like something out of a painting.

Blood trickling down a cheek.

Yet a fist raised high as if refusing to yield.

Behind it, the Empire's flag waved proudly.

...It was the moment a photo that would turn the world upside down was taken.