The City Where Gray Rain Falls Chapter 18

“…!”

But things didn’t go as planned. Before he could go find Vincent or even completely leave the front of the records room, a familiar face approached and suddenly snatched his wrist.

“Shh.”

Pressing his index finger to his lips and urging silence, the other man dragged Isaac away toward a space at the far end of the corridor that still seemed devoid of any human presence.

∞ ∞ ∞

The respectable inauguration ceremony for the new Chief Commissioner ended anticlimactically, thanks to Bereth, who quickly became dead drunk, and Gideon, who left early citing his health.

The moment Samuel, returning from a brief secretive encounter with a woman, stepped into the banquet hall, the guests exchanged light farewells and left in a rush.

It was a shabby inauguration that garnered little attention compared to his predecessors, but it had achieved its intended purpose. As expected, it was thanks to those among the neighborhood watch who had slipped away or shown suspicious movements.

Before the siren signaling the lifting of the curfew had even sounded, a report on the events of just a few hours prior was being swiftly delivered in the Chief Commissioner’s office.

“A total of five people left their posts.”

The one delivering the report was not an officer in a stiff uniform but one of the neighborhood watch members dressed in shabby clothes. He raised the tips of his right fingers to his brow and then lowered them in a crisp salute, proceeding to rattle off the previous night’s situation without hesitation.

“Two who left their posts for personal reasons. One who attempted to infiltrate the security room on the seventh floor. One who tried to find the entrance to the basement on the first floor.”

Naturally, the neighborhood watch included people Samuel had planted in advance. Openly pairing them up would have aroused suspicion, so he had selected and placed officers capable enough of acting the part to monitor from a suitable distance.

“And the remaining one…”

“Forget it. I saw it myself.”

A faint irritation clouded Samuel’s brow as he cut off the ongoing report. Though the rebel spies had indeed moved the moment an opportunity presented itself, as expected, they had fallen short of the Chief Commissioner’s expectations.

The security room on the seventh floor was a place that stored information on the gates installed in each sector, so there was a fair amount of classified material that would interest the rebels.

However, targeting the security room under the current circumstances was a pointless act. With all the key operatives in the city being rounded up, even if they learned the daily-changing passwords, there was no way they could even use them.

On the other hand, the one trying to find a way into the basement was almost commendable, though it was disheartening how easily he had been caught. It almost seemed like he had deliberately loitered suspiciously nearby, hoping to get caught.

Under interrogation, they might manage to extract a piece or two of information, but it was highly likely to mostly be a waste of time.

“What happened to the ones who were caught?”

“Ah, th-that, well…”

At Samuel’s question, the officer playing the watch member broke into a cold sweat and couldn’t easily get the words out. Then, Sera, who had been waiting beside him, stepped forward and answered in his place.

“Both died on the spot.”

“Why.”

It was a simple word asking for the reason, but the chilling sensation creeping over her entire body forced Sera to gulp down the saliva pooling in her mouth before continuing.

“…They had hidden poison in advance and swallowed it the moment they were discovered. It seems they knew we would come for them.”

“Ahaha. How interesting.”

The rebel ‘Head,’ who had been rooted in the city for decades, seemed to be a far more cautious type than he’d thought. Or else he enjoyed nasty pranks using people’s lives.

Even with two of the city’s most important figures gathered there, instead of attacking the annex or directly threatening them, he had merely stirred up the inside of the main building and left it at that.

The ‘Head’ wasn’t a simple or easy type like the leader outside. When this side cast bait, the other side merely pretended to take it.

And two of them, at that. No. Was it three?

“How shall we handle the third floor?”

“Ahh.”

In this operation, the new Chief Commissioner had personally visited the place he believed to be the variable.

The black-haired young man whose intentions he uniquely couldn’t read from the time of the watch member selection. For days, Samuel’s gaze had been fixed on him.

The way he awkwardly followed others’ footsteps and barely stood at the tail end. The hair sticking up between his cap. The tension he hadn’t managed to erase beneath it.

He was desperate to avoid giving away that he had come from outside, yet lacked the sharpness characteristic of a trained rebel. And yet, his eyes simultaneously held earnestness, impatience, and an anxious ulterior motive.

So he had been certain the young man would make a move.

It could be an attempt to cause confusion through masterful acting, but he was a type never seen before. On top of that, it was true that a mix of tension and excitement had swirled within him at the appearance of someone whose motive for infiltrating—for whatever reason the rebels had sent him—was utterly unfathomable.

The place such a person had entered after hesitation was the ‘records room’ on the third floor. A space where, no matter how hard one looked, there was nothing classified or useful to the rebels.

What on earth was he trying to check? Was he curious about the faces of past Chief Commissioners? Was he curious about the city’s old appearance, forgotten by all?

Perhaps he was simply a lost lamb who had mistaken his destination. So, as if granting a favor, he’d decided to give him a new option.

For example, a chance to kill the Chief Commissioner. Timed to the inauguration, no less, making it easy to become a talked-about story.

But even with a defenseless enemy before him, the young man merely trembled under the desk, afraid of being caught, and didn’t seem to have any concrete plan. Of course, the moment he revealed even a hint of murderous intent, he would have kicked him in the abdomen with his shoe and thrown him straight into the basement.

At the very least, the little rat under the desk didn’t seem to know who the person before his eyes was.

A man in a pristine white uniform with blond hair, possessing the authority to freely come and go within the Public Security Bureau at that hour. Any rebel who had received even the minimum training to infiltrate this place, no—anyone with a brain to think—could not possibly fail to recognize Samuel.

“Seems he was looking for something else.”

“Pardon?”

…But what could it be? What was he trying to find?

Grinning, Samuel, who had been reflecting on the young man he met on the third floor, laughed lightly and gave an order to his subordinates.

“There’s no rush.”

“Then…”

“Watch him for now.”

“Understood…?”

Just as those who had come to report on the previous night’s events were finishing their business and about to step outside, a loud commotion erupted from outside the Chief Commissioner’s office.

It was the break of dawn, the time when the surroundings were just beginning to tinge yellow from the horizon. Who would dare come to the Chief Commissioner and cause a scene?

“You can’t just go in like that…!”

Leaving behind the urgent voice of Adjutant Walter, who had been guarding outside, impatient footsteps thudded right up to the door. Bang. The door to the Chief Commissioner’s office, which unauthorized persons could not enter recklessly, swung open as if it were laughably trivial.

“You son of a bitch!”

Following the resounding curse, the sharp friction of a slap landing cleanly on a cheek echoed all the way down the corridor. The one struck was Samuel. The intruder who had appeared without warning was his foster father, Lot.

Lot’s build was no less than that of a sturdy young man. In his prime, he too had been tasked with torturing rebels here, so even though he was well past sixty, leaving a red welt on someone’s face was no difficult task for him.

Samuel felt a fierce, sharp pain, as if a cold winter wind had whipped past his ear roots. A ringing noise scraped and churned inside his ear, but since this was a familiar pain to him, instead of his face contorting, the corner of his mouth twisted upward, one cheekbone rising.

Among those remaining in the room, the officers who had been scurrying behind, or indeed throughout the entire Public Security Bureau, no one possessed the authority to stop Lot, a Party executive.

Including the Chief Commissioner, everyone simply stood frozen in place, bowing politely, silently watching to see when the guest would strike again.