The City Where Gray Rain Falls Chapter 7

The moment permission was granted from inside, she turned the round doorknob and opened the door.

The narrow room seen through the dim, whitish light. Inside, a man covered in blood was tied to a chair. Blood dripped from the various holes in his face, which hung toward the floor, and his clothing was drenched entirely red, making him seem like meat that had just begun to be butchered.

Drip, drip. Liquid—whether blood, tears, or urine released from unbearable terror, it was impossible to tell—pooled beneath the chair and then dropped into the puddle collected below.

Opposite him, near the entrance, stood her superior. The new Chief of Security, his expression devoid of feeling, seemed to have no sympathy whatsoever for the man who had been reduced to a lump of meat.

The visitor was no different. She immediately held out the documents she had brought and conveyed the reason for her visit, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Far more personnel than expected have applied to the Crime Prevention Unit.”

“That’s good.”

Saying that and smiling coyly, Samuel’s mood appeared pleasant as he placed a cigarette on his lips. Soon, with a sizzle, he held the burning cigarette between his fingers and blew the smoke toward the unconscious criminal.

Catching the acrid smell of smoke, the man, having regained a bit of consciousness, merely repeated the words, ‘I’ve told you everything I know. Please spare me,’ sobbing and begging for his life, as if trapped in a nightmare.

The sight of him pleading while forcing the welling blood back down his throat was pitiful, but none within the room paid any heed to worthless noises.

Click. Samuel’s adjutant, ‘Sera,’ took a pocket watch from her pocket and checked the time.

“You must depart now due to your next schedule.”

“Ah, right.”

Samuel stubbed out his burning cigarette directly onto the bound man’s thigh. Sizzle. The sound of flesh burning along with the fabric, like cooking meat, could be heard.

“Kyaaak!”

Whether the terrible scream was heard or not, he headed to the washbasin next to the door. He stripped off his blood-stained gloves and threw them aside, then rolled the soap in his palms, washing away the blood that had soaked between his fingers under the forceful stream of water.

While he wiped the remaining moisture from his hands with a clean towel, Sera took the uniform jacket hanging on the coat rack and waited for her superior outside the door.

“Handle the cleanup.”

Having slipped his arms into the jacket and donned new gloves, Samuel gave the order to Sera as he left. She gave a concise reply of ‘Yes,’ with an expressionless face, then entered the room and latched the door behind her. The sliver of light that had brushed her face was swallowed up by the darkness, and not even a small scream leaked from within.

∞ ∞ ∞

Early dawn, with darkness still clinging in patches. As soon as the first siren signaling passage permission sounded, a young man who had hidden his disheveled hair under a hat hurried outside.

His destination was not the place to receive food rations, but the gate allowing passage from District 28 to District 12. Despite the early hour, the area in front of it was in an uproar with people willing to skip breakfast just to move quickly.

After checking that he hadn’t missed the receipt confirming his application to the Crime Prevention Unit and the documents proving his identity, Isaac took several deep breaths and then cautiously joined the line.

It was his first time moving to another area since entering the city, so he was extremely nervous. The people lined up in front of the gate were likely no different.

Flushed cheeks like a child’s, heads constantly turning left and right to scan the surroundings, limbs that couldn’t stay still—all revealed an excitement they couldn’t hide.

To go to a district with a smaller number than where they lived, and not just that, but all the way to the City Center—it was an event so rare one might experience it only once in a lifetime. To them, it was a tremendous opportunity and an extraordinary occurrence.

The constables manning the gate gave a grim warning: ‘The moment you break ranks, it will be considered insubordination.’ Then, selecting only the citizens who had every required identity document prepared, they escorted them in order.

Even without intimidation, as soon as the constables with bayonets appeared, everyone shut their mouths tightly and concealed emotions that didn’t suit the gray—like anticipation or excitement—within their orderly demeanor.

Marching at a fixed interval, the citizens of District 28 were like soldiers parading to celebrate a triumph.

Even though they were merely going for a Crime Prevention Unit interview, perhaps because there was hope that could reverse their circumstances, their hearts swelled and their shoulders squared. Even their heads, usually buried between their shoulder blades, faced forward with confidence today, at least for this one day.

To go from District 28 to the City Center, they had to pass through three major gates.

From District 28 to 12, from District 12 to 4, and from District 4 into the City Center—each time, they were inspected by fully armed constables before the massive gates.

Even though they had already undergone detailed verification procedures at the first gate, people randomly singled out with addresses like ‘Hey, you,’ ‘You there,’ ‘Oi,’ ‘Look here’ were dragged off to the guard post and returned with small wounds on their faces, silently and frantically attaching themselves to the very back of the line.

Fortunately, Isaac was never singled out, but the increasingly ironclad and forbidding atmosphere made it hard to breathe, so he secretly trembled his shoulders and repeatedly took deep breaths in and out.

Regardless. The front ranks, where, as it happened, only the lucky ones seemed to have gathered, were too busy taking in the city’s changing scenery with each gate they passed. Afraid of being picked on if they stared openly, they only darted furtive glances, their eyeballs rolling busily.

The buildings haphazardly plastered with cement on their outer walls became neat gray brick buildings. The perpetually muddy dirt ground became pebbled paths and smooth roads. Things one could never see in District 28 even in death.

“Ouch!”

“Ah!”

“What’s this?”

Though their gazes had been frantically scanning the unfamiliar world, the line of applicants, which had maintained its order, suddenly came to a halt because of those stopped at the front. Thud, thud. Foreheads, backs of heads, shoulders, and chins collided back and forth, and the orderliness maintained until then collapsed.

“…!”

“Ah…”

Before they knew it, they were at the gate leading from District 4 into the City Center. With the Security Bureau within reach, even showing the most exemplary behavior would not have been enough.

Some applicants in the rear ranks raised their index fingers and opened their mouths to hurl curses at those who had caused the commotion, but soon, they too, like those at the front, could only close their mouths and stare ahead, letting out faint exclamations.

‘Good heavens…’

Round, smoothly trimmed roadside trees adorning the streets in neat rows, flowerbeds planted with blossoms of every hue, buildings a full five stories high, large, airy windows and terraces where one could cultivate their own flowers, and people freely strolling the streets and chatting, neither in formation nor lined up.

Even Isaac, who had been certain that not a single thing about the city would please him, had to admit this.

That the ‘city’ the people outside had so desperately dreamed of was right here. That Asel’s words had not been entirely wrong.

Here was not uniformity for the convenience of the rulers, but beauty and abundance refined to the utmost for those who actually lived there.

The ashen gray that had pressed down on District 28, District 12, even District 4 from all sides, was here merely one part of the backdrop filling out the diversity.

From a wide-open restaurant, the savory smell of oil wafted heavily, and people dressed stylishly in coats, jackets, and dresses that expressed their individuality sat outdoors, eating coffee and bright yellow omelets made from fresh eggs, brown toast soaked in butter and honey.

On the faces of the City Center’s citizens were smiles not permitted in other districts. They laughed aloud, and their laughter held no fragments of the hardship that weighed down reality, conjuring the illusion of having entered a dream or a fantasy world.