In the hall, calm had returned. On the ground lay numerous masked individuals, either shot or missing parts of their bodies. In the middle of the carnage stood a gun-wielding woman and a frowning young man.
"Finally over," the woman exhaled, sliding her revolver back into her coat pocket.
The boy clicked his tongue, making the woman frown in response. She turned to him, her eyes sharp as knives.
"What now? If you have something to say, I'm listening," she said dryly.
"Did you really have to kill them?" he asked, his tone as thorny as hers.
"Wait, are you seriously asking me that?!"
He turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers with fiery intensity.
"You could have spared them!" he snapped.
"Are you serious right now?! You're going to make a scene over this?!"
"Are you saying their lives weren't worth anything?!"
"I never said that, and you know it!" she shot back, her voice rising. "What's wrong with you? Do you think sulking now is going to help?!"
"What about our morals?! We're investigators, not killers!"
"And I didn't kill everyone! Why do you conveniently ignore those still squirming over there, huh?!" she said, pointing in the wrong direction before correcting herself. "They'll survive, won't they?! Stop being such a wuss, for God's sake! You're an investigator! Investigators kill. We've already been over this!"
Her words silenced him. Indeed, it wasn't the first time they'd argued about this.
She had killed someone during a mission before. At the time, he'd understood that it was necessary to protect an important witness who would have been executed otherwise.
He'd found out about it by chance—or what passed for chance—and his reaction had been much the same as it was now.
"Investigators don't kill!" he had yelled at her, slamming a resignation letter onto her desk.
Back then, she had responded calmly, her voice steady and composed.
"You're right," she said, crossing her legs. "Investigators don't kill. At least, not humans…"
Her words had silenced him. He knew exactly what she meant: investigators weren't meant to handle ordinary humans and their problems. Their role was to combat anomalies, those abominations of nature. Their duty was to eliminate beasts and anything allied with them.
The one who had tried to execute the witness had been revealed as a guardian beast in human disguise. Its master had never been found, but her decision to act had saved a life that day.
"..."
"Seems you remember now. Good."
She had placed a gentle hand on his head, her expression softening.
"Are you saying those people aren't human?" he asked.
"No, they are," she replied.
"So you killed civilians."
"Yes, I killed humans," she shot back, "but the situation demanded it. They are not civilians. They were members of the Hand, which classifies them as beasts in the manual. Do you understand?"
"This is ridiculous."
"What I find ridiculous is dying for such principles. Are you saying it is more okay to kill investigators and beasts?"
"I am saying the police must handle humans and us beasts!"
"Then humans should stick to their thing if they don't want to be shot," she replied, her tone cold. "Didn't you notice? That man—Popoloco—was still able to use such a long name, even though something was eating everyone's names."
The boy's eyes opened wide in realization prompting his teacher to sprout a victorious smile.
"Of course, it could just be that he was using an alias," she said, making a dismissal move. "But with a phenomenon of this scale, admitting anything as your name would still trigger the name-eating process, wouldn't it? There was definitely something unnatural with those 'humans' and handling the unnatural is our job, isn't it?"
"...It… makes sense," he replied reluctantly.
His expression softened. The man's name didn't strike him as odd at first but now that he thought about it, a Name-Eater able to affect the whole Lundenburg wouldn't have any difficulties to eat even an alias if someone prefaced it by "my name is" or something along those lines. And that was if the person was at the edge of the town, not the name-eater's den
"Aaaaaaah~," said the boy covering his face, "I understand… I will give up for now…"
"Well, said" she said, with a slight smile. "Controlling your emotions is—"
"Vital for an investigator, yes. I know."
The boy sighed.
"... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted that way. Besides , with your ability, it is not as if you could have spared them…" he said in a weary tone.
Indeed, his teacher's ability, the one she had obtained from her gate, allowed her to always hit anything she aimed at—provided she threw something at it. To be precise, the ability made anything she threw follow her target until it made contact.
As she often admitted, a gun wasn't the ideal weapon for someone with her power, as firing a gun didn't exactly qualify as "throwing." Yet, her ability still worked with firearms, albeit in a limited and unpredictable way.
For example, while she could guarantee hitting her target with a shot, there was no telling exactly where the bullet would land, even if she aimed.
Additionally, her second bullet would always strike the target's head if the first one missed it. She theorized that her power identified the head as the primary "target" since it housed the individual's consciousness. Because firing a gun barely counted as throwing, the first bullet often struck the body instead. However, her ability would inevitably "correct" this misfire with the second shot and beyond.
Simply put, once she activated her power, the risk of inflicting fatal injuries skyrocketed, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
"Everyone makes errors in judgment," she said with a shrug. "Investigators are just humans when you think about it. And humans are often young. Some more than others."
"Was that supposed to… What did you even say?" the boy asked.
She glanced at the dismembered bodies lying on the ground behind him. Though motionless, none of them were bleeding. It was as if their limbs had been cleanly detached, severed from their main bodies without any bloodshed.
"Hm… Hey, at least you managed to save a few of them with your power, didn't you? Nice work."
She patted his back with a proud smile. The boy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't bring himself to smile when people had died right in front of him.
"Heh… Hehehehe…"
One of the people the boy dismembered started to laugh ominously.
"You think… You think because you spared us you are a big shot, huh? You think you are so great! You think it makes you better than us humans!"
The man squirmed angrily on the ground. He was only a torso, a puppet whose limbs were detached. He didn't feel pain from his wounds but his eyes were burning as he glared at the boy.
"You monster! You monster!!! Wait!!! Just wait!!! You too will meet your accursed creator!!! You will pay for my friends!!! This masquerade of yours will end!!!"
The man yelled his lungs out—profanities the boy didn't even though existed, heinous speeches, provocations. He threw at them the whole extent of his deep seated hatred.
At first, the boy thought about silencing him. Using his power, he just had to catch it, that loose thread he could around the man's mouth. He just had to pull that thread, unravel it and detach that poison spitting orifice.
"..."
But he decided against it.
"Whatever those people were truly, they weren't that much different from humans," he thought. "They deserved to live."
If his teacher died, he would probably have the same reaction. Maybe letting this man live was much worse than killing him outright. After all, who knew what the Academy would do to him once he had returned to normal? And even if they didn't, wasn't he forcing them to live in a world without their friends? Their family perhaps.
But the time wasn't right to let regrets overtake him. He wasn't stupid—he couldn't possibly have neutralized all those people by himself. Those casualties were inevitable.
"Ahem."
A quiet voice interrupted his train of thought. It came from a tall young man wearing a black costume and black glasses. His slicked back blonde hair gave him the overall appearance of a handsome prince while his tattoo shaped like a black tear running down his left cheek made him appear even more mysterious.
"Mistress, do not forget we are in a state of emergency," he added politely.
He addressed the young woman in a respectful tone. What could be more normal? She was his mistress and he was her guardian beast.
"Ah yes, I forgot you were here, Tears," she replied, seemingly unfazed.
"Hm…" grumbled the boy.
"I do not mind," replied Tears. "Still, I must congratulate you, my mistress. Summoning me in the middle of seemingly mundane sentences like that one…"
He gripped the area around his chest.
"I am in awe!!! You are such a genius!!! Please allow me to—"
"Now, now, calm yourself," she cut.
"Such a bootlicker…" mumbled the boy, scrubbing a strand of his hair. "That is basic investigator technique. Most people know about our paths and guardian beasts so we must—"
"I don't remember asking you anything, human," said Tears, coldly.
"..."
The boy breathed deeply, restraining himself.
"By the way, Tear, what is my name?" asked the woman.
"Hm? Surely you jest, my mistress. Unlike this twerp, I would never—"
"Tears…"
The blonde man stopped, coughing lightly. "Your name? That would be Wi, my mistress."
The woman nodded and then pointed at the boy.
"What is his name?"
Tears furrowed his eyebrows behind his glasses. His face took an almost pained expression as he struggled to utter the two letters that came to his mind.
"P… Pe…"
The woman nodded again. They still had two characters in their names which was good—however, she wasn't as bothered by it as she was at first. This could only indicate that her memories were slowly getting overwritten to make that name sound natural to her.
"We don't have much time left indeed," said the boy.
Thankfully, she had someone she could count on in this situation. Someone who would never find it natural.
"Do you have an idea? To find the Name-Eater I mean," she asked.
"Well… I had an idea when coming here but…"
The boy walked towards the person lying on the ground and took his mask. As soon as he touched it, his whole body burned. In a flash, he saw a woman in red, a clock and a bird.
"Ouch…"
The boy threw the mask away in a hurry before holding his right hand, his face contorted with pain.
"Hey! Are you okay?! Show me! Quick!"
The woman rushed to him, pulling his hand towards her.
"It is… It is burned. W-What is this? Second degree? Third degree? W-What happened? Does it hurt?"
"W-Well it… kinda… it kinda hurts when you breathe on it, Miss…" said the boy, squirming as he struggled to keep his calm.
"What was that?! Why would you touch such a thing so carelessly?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
"B-Before that…" the boy said, with a crisped smile. "I think… I know where the Name-Eater is."