Read Novel Full Bonus Chapter 3
Bonus Chapter 3
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2019 Publication Commemorative & Reader Appreciation Special SS “Simon’s Night”
After driving through the city for an hour, the streetlights suddenly stop. Politicians call it “the point of separation from the civilized world,” the line where the inhabitants of that world don’t go out at night.
I was driving a Chevrolet pickup along the coast in the dark. The color and model of the car were the same as my company car, but it was a loaner with fake license plates that I could get rid of immediately if anything happened along the way. My silent partner was in the passenger seat.
“Damn it…”
I toss the cigarette that has started to burn my leather gloves out the window and raise my voice in anger for the umpteenth time. What irritates me is not the person I am about to meet so much but the fact that I am the same person I have always been. I have grown up and thought I had achieved everything, but in reality, I am still the same stray dog.
Sheryl’s disease is stable and under control. My business is going well, and I have the political backing of those who can help and support me. My public face is being maintained, and I’m getting better at hiding my true self. If I can stay here, I may have a chance to make a comeback.
That was the plan.
“I have a good offer for you, Saint.
The messenger who visited my mansion to avoid the eyes of others. The name he presented to me was that of a man I would never forget. A man who had been involved with me and my family for the longest and deepest time, a man I wanted to forget but couldn’t. Mildred. The man who had taken everything from my grandfather and continued to torment my father. When I was a low-level thug in the black market, he would come to see me every month and sneer at me with contempt in his eyes. I always knew his purpose was to assuage my fears-to confirm that the threat to himself had not grown. If I hadn’t changed, that would have been it. Or, if I hadn’t been protected by the small connections my grandfather and father left behind, there was a good chance I would have met with an accident along the way.
Even after I took over my father’s business, his connections, and his rotting stock, Mildred continued to interfere in my business and drag me down in my personal life.
It has also been established that he was involved in the actions of those who disrupted the public works of the Seibolei through the interference of an illegal organization. If he were to get rid of Seibolei, Mildred would not benefit. He acted when he heard that I was connected to Seibolei’s daughter—or rather, that I was trying to get connected.
If he were to get involved with Seibolei, the danger to Mildred would skyrocket. The situation I wanted to prevent at all costs had become a reality, and I think he began to panic, thinking that he would not be able to survive if he did not stop me, who was gaining momentum with the rising sun.
“There is a landowner who will not agree to the acquisition of land for the complex medical facility, just one block… no, just one square foot in reality. Mr. Mildred wants a face-to-face meeting with the Saint.”
It was obvious that this was not a good deal. There was no point in asking what would happen if I refused. They would probably try to obstruct me in every way possible. They had nothing to lose―or, more accurately, they had only things to lose―so they would stop at nothing. There was no right or wrong, no breaking point. After all, the mad dog that had been trying to humiliate, shame, and trample me had become incredibly powerful and had been freed from its chains. The fear grows day by day. The old man, who is already afraid of the swaying treetops, is a madman who shoots at anything that moves.
I never thought I’d have to face my past like this.
I ignore the “No Entry” sign, drive through several gates, and park my car at the entrance to the wharf lined with warehouses. I leave the engine running, the lights on, and the radio playing.
“It’s a little early for our meeting time, but I guess they’re already here, right?”
I look at the ugly man in the passenger seat and shake my head. He’s the messenger from Mildred who came to deliver the message. He’s his nephew, he told me himself after much careful discussion.
“See you, Marlow. It was nice to meet you.”
The messenger, his hands and feet bound with duct tape and his mouth covered so he can’t talk, starts to shake when he sees me get out of the car. Does he know what’s about to happen? He seems to be trying to tell me something with a moan, but unfortunately, the time for discussion has passed.
I light a cigarette and hand it to him after taking a drag. He shakes his head, so I stick it up his nose.
“Take care.”
In my pocket is a revolver with a short barrel and no rifling marks. There are six .38 Special shells in the cylinder. If I don’t get away with this, I’ll just die.
As I prepared myself, I remembered Yoshua’s words. He said something like, “If you can’t end an argument after seven shots, you won’t end it even if you fire tens of thousands of rounds.”
“Yes, it won’t end. That’s what trouble is. That’s why you’re here, right?”
He was right. Then and now.
When you think about it, he was a strange guy to begin with. He was the nameless Japanese who changed me, changed this city, and changed this country. I hope we’ll meet again someday.
I opened the window to listen for sounds and movements around me, then slipped quietly out the door. The room light was off, and I parked so that the driver’s side of the car was hidden from view from the pier. I lowered my posture and slipped into the shadows. How are they going to get out?
There was no need to think about it, and the result came quickly. A large number of bullets with long light tails pierced the used truck I was in. It was either a light machine gun or an all-purpose machine gun. Judging by its range and stability, it was probably the type mounted on a gun rack. As I watched in amazement, the truck was riddled with holes and began to catch fire. Was that because they put tracer rounds in it to ignite the gasoline? When you’re called to a place like this in the middle of nowhere, it’s a given that you’ll come by car.
“I guess it doesn’t explode as much as I thought.”
Either I’ve got some nerve, or my senses have gone numb, but I’m not scared or intimidated by the life-or-death situation. I sneak around behind the warehouse from which the bullets were fired, and I’m stunned by what I see there. When I looked up, I saw a gun emplacement set up by the upper window, with a tripod-mounted all-purpose machine gun and ammunition boxes lined up next to it. There was even an RPG-7 leaning against the wall next to it.
“What’s wrong with them? What are they thinking, hunting stray dogs?”
Before I could think what to do next, a man appeared on the upper floor of the warehouse, holding a cell phone.
“I got him, Mildred.”
The man must have gotten something on the phone. He looked out the window and let out a small sigh of disgust.
“Hey, checking the body… wait a minute. I saw the cigarette he was smoking flicker. I shot him in the seatbelt. The car is still burning. If he’s still alive, he’s a real saint, right?”
I sneak into the warehouse from the man’s blind spot and search the area for enemies. There’s another one upstairs.
I tiptoe up the stairs and shoot the man in the head as he hangs up the phone. His skull bursts open, and his brains splatter on the wall. In response to the sound, a small man peers out from behind a crate. I shoot him in the stomach, and the small man looks at me with a look of disbelief before collapsing.
A bullet came flying from behind me, and I ducked my head and turned to aim my gun. A man I recognized from somewhere was holding an RPD light machine gun.
“There’s another one.”
The attack stopped after the first few rounds, probably due to a loading malfunction. Maybe the metal link ammo belt got caught in the drum magazine. The man cursed and pulled the bolt handle, but the more impatient he became, the worse the situation became. I deliberately make some noise as I approach. When I saw the man’s expression, which looked like a frightened, stiff smile, I finally remembered. He’s the arms dealer who used to work with Mildred. He’s fallen on hard times, so I didn’t recognize him when I saw his face. When I was a small-time crook, this guy was doing well, so I used to get a lot of abuse and ridicule from him. I don’t care about that anymore.
The man, who had put on a brave face as best he could when I approached, put down his gun and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. I don’t remember his name. I don’t even want to remember it.
“Hey, how does it feel?”
“W-what?”
“You killed Marlow, and now you’re going to be found dead, too. The current police chief has been overdosed with motivation, so he’ll be drooling as he investigates things. Your business, everyone involved, your business partners, and, of course, your family. Even after you’re dead, you’ll still be called a stupid incompetent.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If that were to happen, even you who were in a hostile relationship wouldn’t be able to get away with it.”
“You will be sorry. If there were any signs of a battle here and any weapons or armor left behind.”
I point down and laugh at the sight of the many containers and tank-like objects without turrets. If they wanted to use these tonight, they were completely crazy.
“What if all this disappears tonight? Wouldn’t there be speculation that the money that was supposed to be used for the deal has been taken by someone?”
“Fuck you! You’re the one who’ll be suspected first, you know…!”
I shot him in the jaw from the side, and he couldn’t talk. I could hear him making noises and splashing around, but I didn’t care.
“Of course, that’s true. But what if there’s no evidence to accuse me of, and what would you do if you knew you had no chance of winning with money, power, or connections?”
The man’s eyes dart around as if he is finally beginning to understand his position―the position he is about to assume. His head shakes in a small, pleading motion, but the tongue protruding from the remains of his jaw is unable to form any meaningful words.
“The old man wants a victim to protect himself. Isn’t that right?”
He pushes the man away with the muzzle of his gun. When he shoots the hand that tries to grab him, his right hand becomes useless. He screams and holds his wound, and his left hand is also shot. He can’t even hope for written communication. He kicks the man who is still trying to come down the stairs and shoots him in the shin with the last bullet. There wasn’t much blood, but the guy couldn’t get away. I put the empty gun in front of him as he struggled.
“Mildred will be here at dawn. I hope your appeal reaches her by then.”
I left the man desperately begging for something behind me and started thinking about how to get Chiran* into God’s alchemical cauldron. [T/n: I’m not sure.]
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