The City Where Gray Rain Falls Chapter 5

He had things to attend to from the morning, catering to the whims of party executives, but compared to just a few years ago, it was a dramatic improvement.

Back then, he carried out dangerous operations on the front lines day and night, capturing more rebels and spies than anyone else, yet the treatment was miserable and his circumstances poor. Blind loyalty and performance surpassing yesterday’s were expected; failure was simply the negation of his very worth.

As a citizen, one always had to harbor a grateful heart toward the city and the party that accepted them inside its beautiful, safe iron fortress, providing homes, food, and jobs.

For Samuel, who had come from outside and risen, by luck, to today’s position, it was as if he had received a favor that could never be repaid in a lifetime; even devoting his life unstintingly to the city’s peace and prosperity would not be enough.

Screech. Samuel turned the brass-plated faucet to shut off the hot water, wrapped a towel around his lower body, and stepped out of the bathroom.

After briefly scanning the room, which had been tidied as if nothing had happened, he took a few steps and stood before the mirror that was as tall as he was.

Because of the rain that had fallen for days, the inside of the Security Bureau building was chilly and damp, but the top floor, where firewood crackled and burned in the fireplace, was dry and warm.

While the moisture beaded on his skin dried, Samuel stared blankly at his own reflection in the mirror.

Over his straight, stretched limbs and torso, brutal lash marks and scars from blades and bullets, deep and shallow, were densely embedded. The layered wounds, impossible to tell which had come first, vied to testify to a past that had been anything but smooth.

The horrific past was easily hidden beneath the snow-white uniform. A perfectly fitting gray shirt and trousers, suspenders firmly securing them, a blue necktie matching the color of his eyes, a snow-white jacket with gold buttons, black socks and stiff leather shoes. As the attire was assembled piece by piece, the scars disappeared from view.

All that remained were his hands, his wrists, the nape of his neck slightly revealed above the collar, and his delicate face.

His pale blond hair, blue-tinged eyes, sharp nose, and crimson lips called to mind a haughty young lady who had never known hardship.

Samuel sneered at that image of himself with his whole face. Then, he immediately applied pomade to the strands of hair falling over his forehead, combed it back, and placed the angular hat matching his uniform on top. Beneath the brim, his sharp, indifferent eyes glinted.

“…Chief. It’s time to depart.”

At the drawn-out preparation, a voice urging him from outside was heard, but without even pretending to listen, he reached out and picked up the pistol resting on the shelf.

A six-shot revolver he always carried at his waist. Checking that the bullets were properly seated by rotating the cylinder every time he went out was a kind of habit, and a survival instinct.

His head tilted gently as he looked down at the cylinder, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

His partner, which would protect him in an emergency, was in perfect order. Click. If he put it to the end of his chin and pulled the trigger, just as the man in the mirror was doing now, it would blow his head off without hesitation, and very cleanly.

“Ahaha.”

However, the pistol was deprived of the chance to show off its purpose and went quietly into the holster attached to his belt.

Tap, tap. Soon, the shoes made of expensive leather created a rough yet steady sound as they distanced themselves from the mirror.

The Chief of Security of this city, cold and sharp like a knife carved from ice. The being the rebels feared most slid out into the world beyond the door, to face another of his enemies.

∞ ∞ ∞

At the very edge of the city, District 28 was buzzing with an energy rarely seen before.

Just the fact that the Security Bureau was offering new jobs with good pay had everyone excited, and they formed a long line in front of the temporary booth set up near the bulletin board to accept applicants for the Crime Prevention Unit.

Isaac was one of those mingled in that line.

The others were likely tempted by the pay—higher than most jobs listed on the notice—the work that looked easy, the loose qualifications that didn’t discriminate based on age, experience, or origin, and the simple procedure of submitting documents and a single interview. But to him, the only thing that mattered was the ability to move between districts under the pretext of patrolling.

If entering the city from outside was something possible, though it meant staking one’s life, then moving to other districts, further inside, past the internal gates or high walls, was a realm of impossibility—something one could never do, even in death, barring legal procedures.

And even that legal method was not easy. Without clear business, like an invitation from another district pre-approved by the administrative department or an officially recognized workplace, one could not leave their district of residence. Nor was there any guarantee of passing through the checkpoints every time, as they depended on the constable’s mood. Incidents of being picked on or arousing suspicion were all too common.

He hadn’t discovered anyone even resembling Asel in District 28, so if he wanted to find that kid, he needed to move actively. For that purpose, the Crime Prevention Unit was perfect.

“…The Crime Prevention Unit, it briefly appeared about ten years ago and then disappeared, right? Probably.”

“I heard that back then, they received training at the Security Bureau and took on not just patrol but all sorts of odd jobs. I wonder how much they’ll work us to the bone this time.”

“What does it matter. Even if it’s hauling away corpses there, as long as they pay, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

Behind him, men of considerable age chatted, reciting the information they remembered and joking around. Though their tone was grumbling, within it, a fuzzy anticipation was wrapped in the guise of worry or concern.

Isaac felt the same excitement. It seemed that if he could just join the Crime Prevention Unit, he would be able to find Asel in no time.

And so, without any hesitation, he filled out the documents when his turn came, heard about the interview schedule to be held at the Security Bureau in the City Center a few days later, and even received a small receipt stamped with an official seal that he had to present when passing through the gate. Only then did today’s procedure conclude.

Because the person in charge said he absolutely must not lose it, Isaac clutched the small paper tightly in both hands, scanned his surroundings, and quickly returned home.

∞ ∞ ∞

At the very center of the City Center stood the massive ‘Parliament House’ building, where party executives discussed and decided the city’s important matters.

Unlike the rough, square concrete buildings across the city, structures like pillars and ornaments carved by artisans over long periods, arched corridors, and domed roofs evoked nostalgia for an old era that now hadn’t left even the faintest trace.

The city’s design had been based around this ‘Parliament House.’ From here, the districts and walls spread out in concentric circles at fixed distances, drawing a perfect circle.

A black vehicle stopped in front of the Parliament House’s main building. When the adjutant in the driver’s seat got out and opened the rear door, the Chief of Security, dressed in his snow-white uniform, emerged.

“I will wait in the car.”

From here, the adjutant could not follow. Only authorized party executives and high-ranking officials could set foot in that grand building.

As he climbed the external stairs to enter, Samuel habitually counted how much the security had increased compared to the last time.

‘About ten men, perhaps.’

The old men who occupied the city’s pinnacle were fearful. Despite ruthlessly dealing with their political enemies, they were terrified of suffering the same fate.

So they limited the personnel allowed to come and go, stationed fully armed guards, and subjected everyone to multiple body searches before they could stand before the executives.

Guns, knives, of course, and even any sharp ornament that could be a weapon were forbidden. He had to take off all his clothes and put them back on under the watch of three guards. Only after all that was done could Samuel stand before the party executives who had summoned him.

‘It’s uncanny every time I see it.’

At the end of the long corridor. Opening the heavy door and entering revealed a space where chairs were arranged in tiers on a platform divided into several levels.