Chapter 22: On a Second Blossom
"Heh..."
A sound like a broken bellows came from Calvados's mouth. He lay on the bed, staring blankly at the snow-white ceiling, his consciousness still not out of the dream.
In his dreams, there are skinless, terrifying monsters made of flesh and blood, and groups of people dressed in strange clothes fighting monsters. It's just like an otherworldly adventure game, but he never plays it himself.
The only good thing that happened in his dream was that he was with Vermouth.
The somewhat dazed man didn't notice that he wasn't the only one in the room; there was another person squatting on a stool in the corner like a mushroom, completely shrouded in shadow, making their presence almost nonexistent.
Dazai Osamu was still wearing that pink dress. He didn't care anymore. After changing into the dress, he could feel that his physical fitness had been significantly enhanced. The benefits of the dress were enough for him to ignore the slight discomfort in his heart.
He looked at Calvados on the bed and gasped for breath, his rapid breathing causing him to make strange noises.
"You're awake?"
The sound from the corner drifted faintly into the ears of the man, whose consciousness was still hazy.
Who's speaking? Calvados snapped back to reality, his hand instinctively reaching for the spot where he used to keep his gun. The fabric felt unfamiliar; it was clearly not his own. His gun was gone too.
The man, who had just been asleep, sprang up from the bed with lightning speed, his sinister gaze fixed on the person in the corner.
Is this a man or a woman?
The boy, dressed like he'd just escaped from some special effects film crew, sensed the hostile gaze from the other side and slowly raised his staff, its exaggerated star-shaped decorations pointing directly at Calvados.
A sense of familiarity surged through Calvados's mind. This person, this familiar attire, and that whimsical staff—it was exactly the same as the strange man he had encountered in his dream. Could it be?
"Uncle, it's me. Have you forgotten that I pulled you back from the brink of death?"
He spoke friendly words, yet layers of magic circles lit up at the tip of his staff.
Dazai Osamu suddenly realized that something was wrong. He seemed to have seen this scene before, just a day ago, except that he was the one being pointed at with the staff back then.
Hmm, time really moves so slowly. He felt like a lifetime had passed since he last met Mori Ougai. There was something wrong with the way time passed in this place.
"You are... the one who brought us down here."
Calvados recognized Dazai Osamu in the skirt. Was this child dressed like that part-time as a magical girl? No, he was an esper. There were no magical girls in this world.
"No," the boy holding the weapon denied.
“You came down here on your own. Didn’t I warn you? You were to stay in your rooms properly.”
The boy tilted his head, as if recalling something, and continued:
"That lady who was with you seems to have encountered a wild animal in the yard?"
They found out!
Now, Calvados is fully awake. It wasn't a dream at all; it was a real event. They've captured Vermouth. Otherwise, how would they know her true gender?
"Where is this place? Is this the Port Mafia's branch in Tokyo?" the man asked in a hoarse voice.
This time, it was Dazai Osamu's turn to be confused. The Port Mafia is in charge of Abnormalities? Really?
"This is Lobotomy Corporation, sir. Did you barge in without knowing anything?"
"Mr. Dazai, I heard you didn't go to the cafeteria tonight..."
Outside the door stood the Akutagawa siblings, along with Yoshihide who had come with them.
With an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, Liangxiu raised an eyebrow when he saw Calvados inside the room.
"Barbaresco! You really are here! Are you planning to betray the organization?!"
Calvados's temper flared up the moment he saw the short-haired woman; it was because of the two of them that he and Vermouth were in this predicament.
Ryunosuke Akutagawa and his sister ignored the strange man in the room and ran towards someone who supposedly hadn't eaten yet, carrying takeout food in his hand.
"Whatever," Liangxiu said, walking towards Calvados, who was somewhat blustering but inwardly weak after losing his weapon.
Over there, Dazai Osamu had already put down his staff and opened the supplies that had fallen from the sky. He wasn't a person with a strong appetite, and often didn't even want to eat. But after a whole day like this, if he didn't eat anything, he might be facing his end.
Based on today's work experience, there's a high probability—no, it's a certainty—that he'll be reinstated by his supervisor. So why would he bother making things difficult for himself? He might as well just eat his meal.
He knew Liangxiu's strength; with her around, Calvados wouldn't make a ripple.
With a dull thud as Calvados was punched, Dazai Osamu finally got enough energy from his food and turned around to see Calvados, bruised and battered, lying on the ground.
Liangxiu spared his life, after all, the fact that he was alive and present here meant that he must have some value to him, such as drawing the lucky wheel.
"Uncle? Are you alright?"
The boy, with his fluffy, iris-colored head, looked down at Calvados, who was lying on the ground, and asked with a smile.
Calvados still had half a mouthful of blood in his mouth, and he really wanted to spit it onto that annoying kid's hypocritical face. What was he pretending for?
"Oh! By the way, do you also want to see your companions?"
"Miss Miao went to great lengths to rescue her from the rabbits."
"rabbit?"
Is this the wild beast in the yard he was talking about?
"Yes, a rabbit, a rabbit that nibbles on grass and hops around."
Calvados sensed a hidden meaning in the boy's words and quickly asked:
"How is she?!"
"She's already waiting for you downstairs. Shall we go see her?"
The lower levels? Could there be even deeper places here? Where exactly have they arrived? Is this place truly something the organization can contend with?
Calvados, struggling to keep his body from being brutally beaten, followed the boy in the pink dress through the passageway. This place was completely different from the passageways he had been to before; it had a strong sense of daily life, like a dormitory.
As he walked, he felt as if he had passed through something. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and he found himself in the familiar area—the same place where he had encountered the monster before.
Finally, he was led by Dazai Osamu to a door where Vermouth, who had removed her disguise, was sitting. The woman looked haggard, as if she had experienced something terrible.
Vermouth was somewhat surprised to see Calvados still alive; she had been imprisoned here for so long that she had assumed her companions had been killed.
Looking at the man's face, which resembled a pig's head, she silently swallowed the words she wanted to say; this was clearly not a case of being unharmed.
As the two entered, the blue-haired secretary appeared out of nowhere, the door to the room was closed again, and an elderly man with gray hair sat in the main seat.
The secretary nodded to Benjamin, indicating that they could begin.
Three days later, in Tokyo.
Upon receiving another resignation notice, Rum angrily smashed his phone.
The two members he sent out to investigate turned into meat buns, and the signal source also came from that place, with the exact same coordinates as the location where England's resignation letter was sent.
The one-eyed middle-aged man gritted his teeth in hatred. What kind of magic did that place possess that caused the organization's members to perish one after another there?
The two from the brewery, who had been throwing good money after bad, were also in a lot of pain. Now they knew why Dazai Osamu was so enthusiastic towards them; he had simply brought in a few more people to share his workload.
Vermouth, whose real identity is an actress, is also somewhat worried. If she doesn't appear in public for too long, fans who are concerned about her safety may call the police.
She had already built good relationships with the staff in the records department through her smooth manner, and she took the opportunity to confide her troubles to Kingsley, the most senior employee in the records department, during dinner.
Kingsley looked at the blonde woman before him, who seemed completely out of place in every way. What did she mean? Did she want to quit?
The older employees patiently advised the new employee not to think about unrealistic things:
"This is 'Wings' here! Where else can you find such a good job if you leave here?"
Wing? Vermouth caught the word she was hearing for the first time. It sounded like a proper noun and was definitely not the same as the wing she remembered.
Seeing that she still wouldn't listen to his advice, Kingsley scratched his face, intending to persuade her again, but his hand bumped into the ice crystal on the side of his face. This was the proof that he had defeated the Ice Queen and saved his colleague from her.
This strengthened his resolve to persuade Vermouth. "Little Vermouth..." Kingsley rambled on about the superiority of Lobotomy Corporation, but Vermouth paid no attention.
"Little Beckham," was the new name her supervisor gave her. The reason was that "Vermouth" was too long and hard to remember, and it was easy to confuse it with alcohol, so they simply called her "Little Beckham." Calvados was also renamed "Apple."
Honestly, "Apple" sounds better than "Little Beckham." "Little Beckham" sounds more like a dog's name. I should have just called her Sharon or Chris. Why did I have to use her code name back then?
Vermouth regretted her decision. After the young supervisor arbitrarily assigned them new names, he hurriedly dragged them to work, and what followed was a life of endless overtime.
She could only socialize with her colleagues during dinner time; everyone was so busy during the day that they didn't even have time for lunch.
Moreover, in the past three days, they had only seen the supervisor that one day, and had not seen the black-haired youth since. Their status here was only slightly higher than those expendable clerical staff, and they had no way to contact him.
The task of delivering meals was entirely handled by that aloof little beauty. Apart from the younger employees and department heads, no one else had any contact with the supervisor.
No, there are people here who can contact the supervisor.
Three people were sitting at the table directly opposite Vermouth's. Two of them were people Vermouth knew very well: English Whiskey and Barbaresco.
A note from the author:
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