Million Dollar Bill Volume 1 Chapter 2

“Shouldn't you be polite and take off your hat, Bill?”

Ray gave me a sidelong glance, but I stayed silent. I have a single rule and that's to never take my hat off in front of other people unless I'm mourning a person's death.

“It's fine. He seems to have his reasons too.”

The old man immediately brushed aside Ray's comment. I don't dislike an old man that isn't strict.

“Wait, isn't this situation a bit strange?”

Aretha, who introduced herself as a merchant that sells handicrafts from a Sioux Native American district, commented as she poured some medicine into her cup of tea.

“Why are the bounty hunters who're trying to sell me off to the other potential inheritors also here?”

She's really poking at an uncomfortable topic.

“Mr. Withers fought against One Man Band, Bryshere Gray, for your sake. Don't be so upset, Miss Franklin.”

The old man reasoned while gazing at the sofa which appeared empty. Of course, Aretha was seated there. She was simply invisible.

“That man just didn't want his reward money to be taken away from him!”

The old man said that it'll take at least a single night's worth of time before Aretha returns to her formal state. Considering how noisy she was, her voice should have disappeared, not her body.

I turned to look at the old man again. Compared to the white hair of Ray's master who came to me half a year ago, this man's hair was silver. Furthermore, he had a bit more of a city vibe to him.

According to Ray, this old gentleman was an ‘incredibly incredible' person. I heard that Ray's master used to be the ex-head of the Old World alchemists, so if this person is his sworn friend, then he must be just as impressive. If you consider the fact that he had come all the way to some random place in the United States of America after hearing a certain sound from a very far distance away, then there's probably no one in the world who would dare talk behind his back or try to take money from him.

His name is Master Ozzy Osbourne. Nickname, Oz.

The fact that he had ‘Master' attached to his name meant that he was an immensely respected person within the world of alchemy.

Be it Fund Managers who are mostly materialistic and believe in capitalism or Old World alchemists who are arrogant scholars that search for the truth, they all respect Ozzy Osbourne's knowledge and books equally.

Albeit, I still wasn't told why this amazing grandpa had to rescue Aretha.

In any case, this sofa feels like it's becoming one with my body. It's way too comfortable. Sitting next to a fireplace with some coffee. This old man definitely knows how to welcome guests.

“How and where should I begin? Charles, can you help me?”

“Gladly, Master Oz.”

Ray tore out a page from his Catalogue which he uses as storage and handed it to Oz.

“How much is this?”

“It's free.”

Even though we share a common interest, he always makes sure to receive a rental fee for using his Funds and makes me pay for all the ammo I use. Look at him giving it away for free since he's his master's friend. Ah, how despicable.

“But, Charles, I'm not a Mojo. Humans cannot use more than one Fund unless the right to use one is transferred to them.”

Oz didn't accept the Catalogue page and stared at Ray.

“······I'm sorry.”

Ray opened the page he was trying to hand to Osbourne and took out a large canvas and easel.

“Pardon me.”

Ray took off his colored gla.s.ses. What followed was a scene which would always make my stomach upset. Ray pulled out one of his gla.s.s eyes, which were emitting a faint glow, from his eye socket and handed it to Oz. This was how Ray let others use his Funds temporarily.

“Ew.”

I could hear Aretha gagging.

“Miss Franklin, you must be wondering very much about how you came back to life after having died. Also as to how you've become invisible.”

A faint smile appeared on Oz's face as he spoke. I predicted that a very long explanation was about to happen. I could already feel a splitting headache approaching.

“From what I can see, Miss Franklin possesses the blood of the original owners of this continent, but have you heard about the communion of Indians?”

Paint splashed over the white canvas and turned into a depiction of an Indian with a pipe in his mouth. Smoke was billowing up from the end of the pipe held in the mouth of the Indian wearing a feathered hat. The image within the canvas, which moved around as if it were alive, accurately displayed whatever Oz imagined.

“Yes. We don't have any in our borough anymore, but I heard that other tribes still have shamans. They borrow the strength of our ancestors by holding communion with ‘grand spirits'.”

Aretha answered calmly.

“Alchemists also use a similar method to use their powers. Except, we refer to grand spirits as the will of the world. In other words, the aggregate subconsciousness of every human who had and is currently living on this continent.”

The will of the world. The old alchemist who came looking for me half a year ago said the same thing.

“Although, in the case of us alchemists, rather than borrowing strength, we use the items we grant value to as vessels and temporarily cause an error, a distortion, by interfering with the cognition of the will of the world.”

Oz added.

Come to think of it, people don't seem to care much about the fundamentals of alchemy despite the fact that it's used in almost every part of society. I tried recalling something I was told a long time ago.

“The will of the world is connected to everything on this continent. Be it humans, animals, inorganic substances, and even abstract ideas such as time and s.p.a.ce. It has defined everything that humans have perceived and continues to maintain the world.”

The image of an Indian disappeared from the canvas and a lumpy cloud along with all sorts of objects appeared in the center.

“Are you saying that the subconsciouses and experiences of man are managing the world after having gathered?”

Aretha asked.

“That's correct. Water flows downstream because most people believe it does. It's the same for everything else.”

“Then, are you saying that we're all unknowingly controlling the world?”

I b.u.t.ted in the conversation and threw out a question. I was the type of person who couldn't hold back a question if I wanted to know something.

“Control. That's not a very good word. It'd be more correct to say that the fixed ideas of humans are covering and suppressing the true appearance of the world. I believe that the world was a little different before its will formed.”

I recalled what the old alchemist unilaterally told me half a year ago as he changed me into an existence that was neither man nor money.

The will of the world, especially the certain parts that control each continent, become stronger proportional to how many people die and how many people live on that continent.

As the subconsciousness grows larger over time, the continent's will becomes stronger, and people gradually become tied down by fixed ideas.

Be it the sea no longer splitting apart or the fact that calamities no longer befell the enemies of the Jewish people, these things probably don't happen anymore because the subconsciouses of people that make up the world's will believe that these things are realistically impossible. I suddenly had this thought.

“As I said, all people live connected to the will of the world. Occasionally, people like Charles here, irregulars who are also known as Mojos, are born. Mojos are born with orange eyes and tattoos on their necks and they have a stronger connection to the world's will compared to normal humans. Thanks to this, Mojos are able to handle multiple Funds and also approach the secrets of Old World alchemy easily.”

A simplified image of Ray appeared. The line that connected the cloud and Ray was a lot thicker compared to the other lines. I knew that they were a race of people that were capable of a lot of interesting things, but I didn't know that this was the reason.

“Haaa.”

Aretha let out a long yawn. Warm milk, a comfy sofa, and a fireplace: these were the prime ingredients for drowsiness. The floating mug was somewhat bizarre, but it felt rather picturesque since this was the home of an alchemist.

“It seems my explanation has gotten too long. From this point on, I'll be talking about matters related to Miss Franklin.”

The introduction was long, but he was finally getting to the main point now. What's the truth behind Aretha's existence, which even Ray, a Mojo, doesn't know? Before I knew it, I found myself leaning forward and listening closely as Oz continued his explanation.

“Miss Franklin, like Mojos, you are also a heterogeneous existence, but in a different regard. You could say that you stand at an antipodal point. A loophole in the world that has absolutely no connection to the world's will. An exception among exceptions.”

Oz stared straight into Aretha's eyes.

“Flasko, an empty vessel. This is what we call people like you.”

Another image appeared on the corner of the canvas. The image that looked like a depiction of Aretha wasn't connected to the cloud. I'm not certain, but to sum it up, she's an existence that's segregated from the entire world.

“Please give me more details. What does it mean to live as a Flasko?”

Aretha, who was interested in this topic the most, asked the question that had been itching her. Oz opened his hand that had Ray's gla.s.s eye in it and rolled it around on his palm.

“Flaskos are, in short, existences that reside completely outside the realm of nature.”

Oz continued.

“If something resides outside the large ring of nature, then they aren't influenced by the world's will at all. The will of the world cannot perceive you. To the will of the world, a human known as Aretha Franklin has never been born. Someone who has never been born in the first place cannot stay dead forever. Even if you die, that death will be dismissed as an incident that had never occurred and you will be brought back to life over and over again. Similar to what happened this afternoon.”

The floating mug shook slightly. Is it because she heard something completely unexpected? Aretha couldn't hide her shock.

Eternal life. This was a concept which I just couldn't understand. What kind of insane person would want to live forever? There's no way they could stay sane.

But Aretha had to. An eternal life that she didn't want.

“······No. I have to return to my ancestors' embrace once the life I was given comes to an end. I may have some Caucasian blood, but if it's them, then they'll surely accept me.”

Aretha's voice was weak.

“It would be great if you could; however, your situation is not that simple.”

“I'm sitting right here. I clearly exist. I'm enjoying this warm gla.s.s of milk and talking to you. I even have the name, Aretha Franklin. I haven't met my father, but I have a mother who gave birth to me. Who exactly is trying to deny my existence? I'm alive right now and I'm undeniably going to die one day. Never in my life have I ever wanted eternal life.”

She roared. Aretha's voice became stronger and stronger. It was almost as if she were trying her best to a.s.sert that she existed since she was invisible.

“It's unfortunate. There's nothing more this old man could possibly say to express his condolences.”

The old alchemist put down his cup of tea. His lips were shut tight as if he were hesitating about whether he should continue his cruel explanation.

Ray and I faced the heavy atmosphere head on and our eyes met as we both tilted our mugs at the same time. This was quite the situation. I was starting to feel sympathy for the lady whom I was trying to sell off due to her terribly pitiful circ.u.mstances.

“The will of the world, in other words, the world itself is denying you.”

Oz opened his mouth again. The heavy pressure of his words pressed down on us.

“The world's will is arrogant. Although it may not be able to perceive you, it will not turn a blind eye to some unknown ent.i.ty that's outside its range of control. Countless people who are connected to the will of the world through alchemy will try to get rid of you. Furthermore, these people will firmly believe that their will to annihilate your existence is their own.”

I couldn't utter a single world. I was the same. Even without saying anything, Ray and I knew those words were directed towards us.

When in front of the girl whose existence was being denied by the world itself, concern about money and her life felt incredibly trivial.

“If it wants to deny me, then it can try. You said I can't die anyway.”

Aretha shouted. Rather than courage, it sounded like she was saying that out of despair or bravado. It seems Aretha didn't realize the fear in her words became clearer each time she repeated her words.

“Naturally. Your body and soul can bask in the luxury of immortality. Moreover, you become more of a complete Flasko each time you die and revive. However⎯”

“However?”

“Each time you experience death, you'll lose a part of your being. After a certain number of deaths, you'll end up existing and not existing at the same time.”

It was a vague description. What does he mean by existing and not existing at the same time? What kind of tragedy is that supposed to be?

“What's that supposed to mean? That doesn't make sense.”

“Flaskos are different from normal humans. If humans are single, unified existences, then Flaskos are separated into vessels and their contents. The vessel is your body and soul. Your being is contained within this vessel.”

A gla.s.s sphere which seemed to represent Flaskos appeared on the canvas. A blue liquid sloshed around inside it.

“As long as you maintain this state, you can continue to live as a normal human being. However, death causes temporary cracks to appear in the immortal vessel known as a Flasko.”

This time, a spider web-like crack appeared on the drawing of the gla.s.s sphere.

“Your being will leak out from those cracks.”

The drawing on the canvas started to move again. The blue liquid began to flow through the cracks. The liquid inside the gla.s.s sphere gradually diminished.

“If you were a normal human, then the loss of your being would be directly connected to the death of your body. However, Flaskos are different. Their vessels become more and more empty as they repeat death. In the end, they'll enter a state where their link to the will of the world has completely vanished. Nevertheless, along with the faint remnants of their core being, the Flasko's physical body will continue to live.”

The gla.s.s sphere on the canvas eventually became empty.

“What this means is simple. No one will be able to perceive the Flasko's existence other than the Flasko themselves. Although they clearly exist, no one will be able to see, feel, hear, or smell them. Like this, you'll have to live eternally by yourself. An eternal severance from others and the world. An endless solitude where even death isn't allowed will be waiting for you.”

Everyone went silent.

That was probably suffering which even the word ‘endure' wasn't enough to handle. To humans, just picturing oneself spending eternity alone was like committing a conceited crime.

I didn't have the courage or resolve to imagine it.

“The fact that you've turned invisible, Miss Franklin, is nothing more than a sign that you've begun to awaken as a Flasko thanks to your first death. In the not so distant future, you may come to curse yourself as you continue to live by yourself without being able to die.”

A severe warning.

The gla.s.s sphere disappeared and another depiction appeared on the canvas. It was a beautiful woman with long, straight hair. Shortly after, the image disappeared once Oz opened his eyes again. Who was that woman?

“I just have to make sure that I don't die, then! I'll avoid danger, find other Flaskos, and quietly live in some unknown place with them!”

Aretha squeezed out her best alternative plan. However, she probably knew as well how much her plan was grasping at straws.

“Only ‘one' Flasko can exist at any given time. Another Flasko will not be born until your very being evaporates and your connection to the will of the world has completely disappeared. Even if the ones you love die, you can't die with them. You can't walk through eternity with another person either. You will forever be alone.”

Oz spoke sternly.

“It isn't easy for a Flasko to avoid death. To Old World alchemists who search for the truth and dream of the perfection of mankind, Flaskos are like keys that help them approach the essence of the world. People within the bounds of nature can only comprehend the world partially. However, on the other hand, Old World alchemists believe that they can approach the deepest parts of nature through Flaskos who reside outside of it. There are even extreme alchemists who believe that they could freely change nature itself through a Flasko's power. If an Old World alchemist gets their hands on you, then you'll be 'emptied' to the point where your existence is almost entirely gone before being used to try and change nature.”

I may have gotten my hands on an incredibly dangerous bomb. In conclusion, doesn't this mean that every Old World Alchemist will either try to capture or kill Aretha?

“It's not just Old World alchemists. Obviously, there are your half-siblings who are trying to take your inheritance, but there are also other Fund Managers who will see you as a threat and try to get rid of you in an attempt to maintain order and vested interests. Outside of that, there are a lot of people who see beings that are outside the bounds of nature as an eyesore. No matter how lucky you are, you can't avoid their pursuits forever.”

Aretha must feel like she's sitting at a chess match and her opponent had already shouted checkmate. There's no way for her to overturn this match.

Oz gazed at us as we sat there speechless before he collected himself and continued.

“Oh dear, it seems these old bones had said too much. You must have had a tiring day, I apologize.”

Oz forced a smile on his lips and wrapped up his explanation. What does he want her to do? Is he telling her to just prepare to die?

“Don't worry about it too much. Everything this old man had said were simply the worst-case scenarios. If you safely receive your inheritance, then the power of capital will keep you safe, Miss Franklin.”

I glanced towards where Aretha was sitting. Her mug was trembling slightly in midair. Telling her to not worry about it after saying all that? What is this guy thinking?

“It's getting late, so this old man will be going to bed. Your body should become visible by tomorrow. I've prepared a place to sleep upstairs, so you can get some rest there.”

After peering at his pocket watch, Oz returned Ray's gla.s.s eye and stood up. What an irresponsible old man. Does he think we can rest easy after telling us something so severe?

“You'll need help. Try finding some comrades.”

With his back facing us, Oz muttered something meaningful and went upstairs.

Only an uncomfortable truth remained. The three of us remained seated as we took in the heavy atmosphere.

The sound of Oz walking up his steps felt strangely heavy. The fact that he left after leaving behind only despair and no solution reminded me of the coot who came to me half a year ago, so it angered me. Was irresponsibility an essential trait for every alchemist that's old?

The lumber in the fireplace let out a sharp, crackling sound as it spat out some embers. Aretha put her cup down on a small table next to the sofa she was on. An unpleasant silence swallowed everything.

“He left after only telling us how things worked.”

My head was in the middle of processing Oz's lecture. Of course, processing it didn't mean that I'd find an answer.

“Yeah.”

“······.”

It felt like I heard something I shouldn't have heard. What were his intentions? Was he telling her to prepare herself so that she could accept the despair that was approaching her? Did he want her to know the reason why these things were happening since she was going to suffer anyway?

“There are still a load of things I want to ask. If you don't mind, how about we continue the conversation with just the three of us?”

I threw out a suggestion. Abandoning a beautiful girl who had fallen down a well wasn't my style. No matter how the conversation had flown, opening up to others usually helps in s.h.i.+fting one's mood. At the very least, I believed this to be the case.

“It's fine.”

Hm, was my timing bad? Ray turned to look at me with a stiff look on his face. ‘Read the mood.', I felt as if his pitch-black gla.s.s eyes were saying this to me even though I couldn't see behind his colored gla.s.ses.

“Honestly speaking, it's more convenient for a bounty hunter to not know about their target's private and family matters, but after hearing all that, I have to admit that I want to hear about your inheritance as well.”

I spoke as if I were relenting, but, in truth, what I had said was only 70 percent the truth.

“······.”

Fortunately, it was effective. The middle of the couch sunk in again. I'm inferring from the shape of the indentation, but she's an A shape.

“What a weird feeling. The fact that people are looking at me by focusing on a point that's behind my back.”

Aretha turned her mug over and shook it.

“Is there no alcohol? I'd like a gla.s.s of something strong.”

A shallow sigh drifted over the floor. Ray tore a page out from his Catalogue and handed it to me. For a moment, I stood there in silence, unable to read the words that were written on the back of the page. Am I dyslexic? I can see the words, but I don't know what they mean.

“······Sorry, my eyes are bleary. Can you tell me what this number is? I can't read the name of the item either.”

Am I seeing things? I feel like there are a bit too many zeros.

“If you want to listen to a lady's story, then you have to at least buy her a drink.”

Ray was grinning.

Inside the page was a luxurious scotch whiskey which I had never seen before during the past 6 months I've been with Ray.

Ray put a fountain pen in my hand. My hands started trembling after having double checked the price 3 times.

“It seems we don't have any alcohol, so how about we go upstairs and get some sleep?”

Aretha let out a sharp sigh. What are you acting condescending for?

I signed the piece of paper at a speed far faster than when I pulled out my gun and spread open the page. The paper models of hard liquor inside a transparent crystal bottle, two old fas.h.i.+oned gla.s.s cups, a bucket with ice, and a pair of tongs appeared above the page and became real in the blink of an eye. I tossed some ice in the cups and poured the whiskey in them roughly.

“If you pay an additional 10 dollars, then I'll include a bottle of Drambuie!”

“Oh my, Rusty Nail.”

Ray attempted to do a tie-in sale almost immediately. Aretha let out an exclamation. The effect was amazing.

“d.a.m.n it.”

I had to sign an additional page that Ray held out to me.

I poured some Drambuie into the scotch whiskey and handed it to Aretha after stirring it a bit.

A c.o.c.ktail that tasted like honey, Rusty Nail, was completed.

“You just had to know your alcohol···.”

“Naturally.”

Aretha's tone became bright for the first time. On the other hand, my expression, which was reflecting off the crystal bottle, was dark like the hairs on a h.e.l.lfire-dwelling demon's stomach. d.a.m.n these vampires. Sucking away at my blood-like money!

“Even if you don't finish the bottles by today, I'll hold on to them, so don't worry.”

Ray showed off his white teeth as he grinned. Instead of answering, I threw the cork I had just pulled out at him.

“Hm?”

I used my free hand to pull out my gun and shoot it. The cork burst in between Ray's thumb and index finger. Since I wasn't aiming for Ray himself, the bullet didn't turn into petals and accurately penetrated the cork.

“We're going to drink everything before the sun comes up.”

Ray smiled bitterly. A clear clink resounded as Aretha and I clinked our cups together.

“The use of firearms is prohibited in my home, Mr. Withers.”

Oz's voice came from somewhere unknown. Rather than his voice resonating in the middle of the air, it felt as if the walls and wooden furniture were vibrating, so his voice must have traveled through them.

“Yeah, don't shoot your gun recklessly. Master Osbourne dislikes it when someone leaves a mark on his walls or furniture.”

Ray told me earlier, but Oz controls the power of strong vibrations with his Fund. Although I didn't think he could use it like this.

Seeing as how the bullet I had shot stopped right before hitting the wall and turned into dust, I'll have to delay my plan of shooting another bullet and blasting Ray's colored gla.s.ses off until after we left this house.

“Pfft···.”

After witnessing the series of idiotic events, Aretha couldn't hold back any longer and burst into laughter. Ray and I awkwardly glanced at each other. A cup was tilted in midair before we then heard the sound of a uvula moving.

“Hey, if you drink all that at once, then⎯”

Sure enough.

“I'll get druuunk~”

Is it possible for someone to get drunk this fast?

After taking a sip from my whiskey which didn't have any Drambuie in it, I received Aretha's gla.s.s and poured her another Rusty Nail. She began gulping it down before even doing a toast with me. Isn't this lady being too reckless?

“Oh, would you look at the time···.”

Like a rat jumping off a sinking boat at sea, Ray sensed that Aretha had a destructive drinking habit, so he got up and hastily went up the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?”

I won't let you run away by yourself!

“Sorry. I have a special const.i.tution that makes me get a lot of acne and cause a lot of ulcers to form on the roof of my mouth the next day if I don't go to sleep before midnight. I'm off to bed.”

“Don't lie! You stayed up all night a couple of days ago drinking with me and you were completely fine the next day!”

“Aah, it's already this late. My skin is already becoming flaky. I'll be off, then. Have a nice time, you two!”

Ray ran up the stairs and shut the door to his room behind him. I heard the sound of a door being locked.

“Hiccup.”

I heard a hiccup behind me. This is the worst.

Once I turned around, Aretha had already emptied her gla.s.s and was approaching me. Considering the way her gla.s.s moved around erratically, I could imagine how she was walking.

“Whaat aare you doooing? Pour me another glaaa.s.s.”

If I could actually see her, then she would have been cute and fun in her own way. It's a bit unfortunate that I can only hear her voice.

“Hiccup.”

No. What am I thinking right now?

Something light and warm touched my chest the moment I panicked and grabbed a bottle. When I raised my hand to confirm what it was, it turned out to be Aretha's head. Behind the fragrance of alcohol, I could smell the scent of gra.s.s. It was the scent of the gra.s.s and fruit which Native Americans would use as soap to wash their hair.

“Kuu. Keeping myself steady is hard. Taaake me to that large and comfy sofa over theere.”

This girl, how did she get this drunk already? In the hand I grabbed Aretha's shoulder with, I could feel the soft texture of her clothes.

After getting annoyed at Aretha for tripping over her own feet a couple of times, I put the bottle of alcohol down, placed my arms behind Aretha's back and under her knees, and lifted her up.

“Yeaah, that's better. You shouldn't let a maiden from a prestigious family take more than threeee steps.”

Haha, this girl has a knack for annoying people. It must have been because I was knocked around all day, but I could barely put any strength into my arms. No, was it because Aretha was heavy?

“You buuum. You thought I was heavy just now, diiidn't you?”

Right when I was about to put Aretha down on the long sofa, she lightly patted my cheek. Pat, it was only a type of light tap that barely emitted a sound, but it was enough to annoy me.

“We can talk later, so just go to sleep.”

Come to think of, Aretha didn't spill a single drop of her alcohol when I picked her up, carried her, and put her down.

This girl is seriously tenacious when it comes to alcohol, huh?

Or she isn't drunk.

“Uguaaah!”

Aretha let out a bizarre sound as her invisible body sunk into the coach. I'll slowly progress our conversation once she's out of her drunken stupor.

Aretha's hand grabbed the back of my s.h.i.+rt when I turned around and she pulled me back strongly. I was forcefully seated next to Aretha's head.

“Do you not know what a lap pillow is? A laaap pillow.”

Aretha rubbed my thighs for a bit before placing her head on them. Am I being molested right now?

I wasn't able to respond to Aretha's sudden actions and ended up giving her a ‘lap pillow' obediently. I've made a blunder. How could I get swept up in a drunkard's pace?

“······This is a bit awkward.”

“Ehehe. You're a shy guy, aren't you?”

“You're the one who's acting all friendly by yourself.”

“Ooobviously~ if I act drunk like thiiis, then the sca~ary bounty hunter uncle might take my siiide~”

“I'm not an uncle.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Be honest, you aren't drunk, are you?”

“I'm drunk, don't worry.”

“Drunk people don't say that they're drunk.”

“Hiccup.”

“Whatever, fine. You're drunk, all right.”

I was beginning to get a headache. One of the questions I hated the most in the world was the irregular pattern of ‘figure out whether I'm drunk or not'.

“Oh wow, thank you. Then consider everything I say from this point on as the ramblings of a drunkard.”

All right, ramble on.

“I'm not sure how you intend to persuade me, but I'm listening.”

I feel like originally I was supposed to have the initiative. This is weird. I was planning to listen to her a bit since she was pitiful, but I didn't expect things to become this twisted.

Well, leaving a glimmer of hope so that she would come with me obediently isn't a bad idea.

“For starters, how about we start with introductions again? Who knows? Maybe if we become acquainted enough to refer to one another by name, then you'll listen to my request.”

Shamelessly and brazenly, Aretha dived right in. What was her ulterior motive?

Honestly, names aside, if my life weren't on the line, then I would have probably accepted any type of offer, proposition, or request given by a beautiful woman like Aretha.

However, I can't go soft here. I'll let her relieve some mental stress for now, but once morning arrives, I have to drag this lovable lamb to the slaughterhouse. There's only one reason for this. To prevent my body from becoming a bunch of dollars and losing my life.

“I can't give you a definite answer, Miss Franklin.”

I purposely called her by her family name and not her first name with a holier-than-thou tone. I'm glad I couldn't see her face. If I saw her look up at me from my lap with the same scowl I saw on the train or with a scared expression, then I wasn't confident I could win.

“Hmph.”

I thought she was stern and had a lot of self-respect, so I was surprised to see her give such a cute response. No, this is seriously cheating.

Aretha was using the embarra.s.sment that comes from acting drunk to conquer me. What exactly does she want?

“Then I'll start first. You know already, but my name is Aretha Franklin. My occupation is a Sioux Native American District handicraft merchant. I'm 20 years old and I'm currently traveling east in order to fulfill the inheritance condition that was written on the d.a.m.n will. Referentially, my specialty is ‘talking with animals', so don't forget.”

Your turn. Aretha's hand patted my chest. She wasn't slurring anymore. As I thought, she was pretending to be drunk. More importantly, talking with animals? What kind of ridiculous thing is that?

“My n- ehem.”

The alcohol got caught in my throat. I coughed a couple of times in order to clear my throat before starting again.

“My name is Bill Withers. I like money, I hate being poor. The end.”

I wanted to add that nothing good will come if she makes up nonsensical things just because she's a Native American, but I recalled that trying to persuade a drunkard was pointless, so I stayed quiet.

“Next time you introduce yourself, make sure you add that you're an extremely boring guy. The surprise was so cordial that I almost fell asleep.”

“I'll do it again, then. My name is Bill Withers. If I don't pay back my debt of 1 million dollars within the next 6 months, I'm going to die.”

“Hmm, I don't know the details, but you have your own circ.u.mstances as well, huh?”

Aren't people without any circ.u.mstances on the rare side? Telling her the details is bothersome, so I'll pa.s.s.

“I just realized, but receiving a lap pillow from a guy you barely know and talking to him like that is something that can easily be misunderstood, so you should be more careful.”

“Who cares? I do whatever I want. Be quiet and pour me another gla.s.s.”

I could feel Aretha's pulse through her neck as she pushed her head down on my thighs. Following her voice, a strong smell of alcohol washed over me, completely overlapping the gra.s.sy smell of her hair.

“Drink moderately.”

I thought for a second as I poured Aretha another gla.s.s. A little earlier, she said that ‘a condition to receive the inheritance was written'. As I expected, her father didn't intend to give his entire inheritance to an illegitimate daughter with no strings attached. No, all things considered, the very fact that he was giving all of his inheritance to his illegitimate daughter and making a public announcement about it on the first page of the newspaper was already quite insane in itself.

Of course, it's true that the president of the transcontinental railroad company was famous for being eccentric. From chasing out his wife who couldn't give birth to a daughter and sincerely trying to buy the White House from the president, etc, his sporadicity and eccentricity showed no end. What kind of condition could he have given Aretha?

“What condition do you exactly have to fulfill?”

I'm the type of person who can't help but ask questions. It's thanks to this trait of mine that I never miss even the smallest of clues when chasing wanted criminals, but there's no doubt that this is personally my most bothersome trait. How many times have I gotten caught up in things because of this d.a.m.n curiosity of mine?

“There was a will inside the letter I received, but the problem is that I only received one page.”

“Isn't one page enough for a will?”

“That's for people who don't have things to pa.s.s down. The transcontinental railroad company is the largest enterprise in the United States of America. There's no way that the will of that company's president would end with just a single line saying he's pa.s.sing on his private property along with a date and signature. The page I received flat out says that there are a total of 6 wills and that they will have no validity if I'm missing even one page.”

Huh, I couldn't see the outline all of a sudden. What does he expect her to do after throwing only a single will out of 6 to Aretha?

Wait, don't tell me.

“Do you have to find them?”

“Bingo.”

“Where are they?”

“Inside the personal vaults of the banks owned by my other siblings.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Do I look like I'm joking? Want to read it yourself?”

I heard the sound of fabric rustling before an envelope appeared in the air. I couldn't see Aretha or her clothes, but it seems like the letter and other objects were an exception.

“Nah.”

“Suit yourself.”

Aretha, who was the concerned party, must have also thought that this situation was absurd because I could hear the bitterness in her voice.

“I have to go meet each one of my brothers and sisters and persuade them to give me the rest of the wills. He wrote that they might get sad about not being able to receive the inheritance, so I should console them properly.”

As if that's possible.

In summary, that will is telling her to go meet the annoyed people who couldn't capture and kill Aretha, the girl who, to them, rolled in out of nowhere, fervently pat their backs and apologize about taking all of the inheritance, have a couple of beers with them and create a familial bond, say that it's too unfair that she's the only one receiving the inheritance, promise to give them a portion, receive the other will from their vault, pull each other into a pa.s.sionate, tear-filled hug, and after finally saying their farewells and going their separate ways, Aretha has to repeat this entire process several more times. To those of you who were able to read all of this without stopping once, good job.

Since when did fathers stop acting like a pillar for their household and, instead, act like a demon that's deliberately trying to make their family collapse? At this point, it feels like he's telling Aretha to not even dream about receiving the inheritance.

“What are the chances that your siblings either get rid of their wills, forge a copy and replace the real one with a fake, or hide them in an entirely different place?”

“None. They're protected by powerful alchemy, so it's impossible for anyone other than the caster to destroy or copy the wills. They can't hide it elsewhere either. That's the rule.”

There's no way such powerful doc.u.ments could exist.

······No, wait, there is one. A person who could make this kind of doc.u.ment.

It's not an excuse, but I didn't spend my entire year in Boston only wasting money. Of course, it's true that I spent the majority of my money on parties and other luxuries, but I also tried to do business despite my ignorance and read a bunch of books. Knowing what types of lawyers are hired by big shots is something you can find out after dabbling in high society for a while.

“Wait a second.”

I s.n.a.t.c.hed the envelope out of Aretha's hand. Once I unfolded the will that was inside, I saw a familiar name.

“Notary: India Arie.”

I read the name out loud.

I had a rough guess since this was a will, but it was just as I expected.

The name of the busiest lawyer in the east.

“Is it someone you know?”

Aretha asked.

“Somewhat. She's the one who filed my bankruptcy.”

I didn't have cash at that time, so I had no other choice but to pay with my house. That's normally a trade that wouldn't be accepted, but, fortunately, India had a hobby of collecting real estates.

“File for bankruptcy? What exactly does this India Arie person do?”

“Not only is she the first female lawyer in the United States of America, but she's also the best notary in the east. Most transactions that deal with a huge amount of money go through her.  The fact that no one can tamper with the doc.u.ments she's notarized made her customers give her the nickname ‘Testament'.”

I pushed Aretha's head off of my lap once I finished my explanation and stood up from the sofa.

“Bill?!”

Aretha let out a startled cry the moment she realized I was approaching the fireplace with the will.

“What?”

“What are you planning to do with the will?! Give it back!”

“Wait a second. I want to confirm something.”

I heard that fake lawyers have been thriving lately by impersonating India Arie. It's best to confirm it myself.

If the will that Aretha had brought wasn't notarized by India Arie, then the effectiveness of the will cannot be considered absolute; that means it's possible for Aretha's siblings to either destroy or forge the wills in their respective possessions.

I tossed the will in the fire.

Aretha ran up to me urgently, but it was already too late.

“You···.”

Aretha wasn't able to finish her sentence.

“A second ago, you said that they couldn't be destroyed or forged, right?”

It's a matter of course that she would instinctively try to stop me. I was trying to set it on fire, after all.

“Protecting doc.u.ments from being destroyed or forged is possible even by using normal million dollar-grade Funds. However, who knows? It's a different story if someone uses an even stronger Fund in order to destroy the doc.u.ments. Nevertheless, if it's a doc.u.ment that can cause such ‘a ridiculous thing like this' to happen, then no matter what anyone does, it can't be destroyed or forged.”

I pointed at the fireplace. Aretha let out a short gasp. My shadow on the floor was no longer shaking. It was because the flames in the fireplace had completely stopped moving.

It was as if time itself had frozen in only the fireplace.

“This···.”

After turning my arm into a clump of gold coins, I reached into the flames of the fireplace.

“I heard that, excluding the inability to destroy, tamper, and replicate doc.u.ments notarized by India Arie, they have another big characteristic. This was it, huh?”

You'll know if you try to burn or stab it with a knife. This was what my horseback riding buddy told me with a grin on his face when he was telling me about India Arie back in Boston. It seems he wasn't lying.

My hand that was holding the piece of paper reverted back to normal. Despite having been in the fire until now, the piece of paper wasn't hot or blackened.

After s.n.a.t.c.hing the will from my hand, Aretha started to flip it around and examine it closely. Even if she does that, the only difference she could possibly find is the last line on the will, the initials S.S.D, emitting an orange glow.

“What is this?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered. The acronym of the three words Mojos use when forming a contract. India is Ray's sister. The fact that they're siblings even though they aren't related by blood sure does remind me of a certain other family.”

I continued.

“They say that the ink India Arie uses is an incredibly powerful Fund. Seeing as to how the flames in the fireplace stopped completely, the ink must have the ability to ‘stop' whatever threat is around it when an attempt to destroy or tamper with the doc.u.ment the ink is on occurs. There's a reason why she's called the G.o.ddess of Contracts.”

After letting a deep sigh that was powerful enough to dent the floor, Aretha plopped down on the carpet. Even if I couldn't see her, I could tell by the sound.

“You threw the will in the fire just to confirm that?”

“Well, yeah. It's regrettable that this really was notarized by India Arie.”

“How come?!”

“Obviously, everyone would be happy if the will were to disappear. I could take you in and receive my reward, you could sign the doc.u.ments relinquis.h.i.+ng your inheritance in front of your siblings, pretending to give up on your inheritance since you no longer have the will, and rake off some cash from them. Doesn't that sound great?”

There'll be plenty of people coming after her since she's a Flasko, so she might as well get rid of the people who're after the inheritance first.

Once I said all that, Aretha looked as if she were at a loss for words.

“Don't you get scared whenever you see your pursuers? Didn't dying once make you want to give up on your inheritance? Make the first move and send a telegram to some newspaper company announcing that you're giving up on your inheritance. Manipulate the media and make yourself seem frugal and pitiful. If you gather enough sympathy, then people won't try to kill you so openly. You'll also feel at ease if you're able to bring everything to negotiations, right?”

I ended up accepting the compromise that was created by my conscience. Instead of dragging her with my hands, I decided to take her side and appeal to her.

“Why are you willing to risk your life just for some money?”

All she has to do is believe that the money never belonged to her in the first place. There's a way for her to immediately become safe, so is there a reason for her to go out of her way to take the risk and gather the wills?

“Should I? Would things really be easier if I did? I guess so.”

Aretha spoke.

“But you know what? I'm used to being persecuted.”

A soft chuckle followed her composed tone.

“I've met a lot of white people in the Sioux tribe village. They would either envy me because I'm mixed-blood and usually much prettier than most white women or they would approach me while harboring some sort of s.e.xual fantasy. Regardless of whether I ignored or refused them, they would swear at me all the same. Even the townspeople would be wary of me and ostracize me, contrary to the Native American mentality of treating everyone equally. At the very least, the chieftain would treat me nicely, so that was fortunate.”

The sound of her breathing was close. Her voice was calm. It felt as if she didn't care at all even if she was in the position of being hunted.

I recalled the eyes I saw this afternoon. Aretha's eyes looked as if they were saying that she had never been scared before.

I felt embarra.s.sed about the laughable piece of advice I had offered and turned to look at the fireplace.

“It's always been like this. Even though I had done nothing wrong, everyone threw rocks at me. My mom died and I didn't have a dad. A mixed-blood between an Indian and a Caucasian. Think about it. I was an easy target. I still am. Even if I didn't intend for things to be this way, I'm being accused of appearing out of nowhere in order to steal an inheritance, and I'm being told that I have to die since I was born as a Flasko. People are trying to get rid of me because of these sort of ridiculous reasons, aren't they?”

I listened in silence. Personally, no, it would probably be difficult for anyone to understand her position, so I simply nodded my head. She wasn't asking for sympathy, she only wanted to talk about the world that was mercilessly forcing things upon her.

I closed my eyes so that any sympathy I had within myself wouldn't leak out from them.

“I wonder if it's because I've already died once, but I feel obstinate. I'll do whatever I can to tenaciously survive, receive my inheritance, hire a competent bodyguard, and safely live an extravagant life in a nice house.”

I've failed to persuade her. This girl, she has no intention whatsoever to give up. She's the type of girl to clench her teeth tighter if she's met with backlash.

“It seems like simply trying to persuade you is no longer an option. You sure are troublesome.”

Despite uttering these words, I found myself grinning for some reason. What a valiant girl. It makes me want to cheer her on.

I stood up and picked up the bottle of whiskey again.

“You sure you haven't sobered up because of how much you panicked when you thought I was going to burn the will? Seeing as to how sincerely you vented to me, maybe you still are drunk.”

“The heck are you talking about. Sheesh.”

The embers in the frozen fireplace started to move once more. Aretha went to grab the gla.s.s she had left next to the sofa. I poured us another gla.s.s. The whiskey sloshed the instant we clinked our gla.s.s together.

“A toast to a life that refuses to die young.”

Aretha laughed.

This girl is amazing. I feel like I'm the coward when I'm standing in front of her. A girl who displays a vigorous spirit even when the entire world is against her.

“I definitely won't disappear. I won't live forever either. I'm going to live so happily and die so peacefully that everyone who said I should disappear will envy me.”

“It's fine if you're saying that while under the influence of alcohol, but if you're being that greedy while sober, then I'd like it if you proceeded with that plan of yours somewhere else. It'll only trouble me.”

I gulped down a single mouthful of whiskey. I got a bad feeling all of a sudden. Didn't this girl say something about a bodyguard a second ago? Don't tell me.

“Hey, Bill.”

She called me by my name just now. Isn't this a dangerous sign?

I gave my wariness an emergency dispatch notice and set up a barricade around my heart. However, it was too soon to be relieved. I have to calmy counteract Aretha's following a.s.saults.

“What is it, Miss Franklin? No, I'm telling you this beforehand, but if you're planning to ask me for a favor, then give up now.”

Military preparedness. I couldn't see her, but I glared towards the direction where I heard Aretha's voice. However, Aretha's voice a.s.saulted me from behind.

“Relax, I'm not going to ask you for a favor.”

When did she get behind me?

Aretha started to lightly ma.s.sage my shoulders with her hands. My back became stiff due to the tension. I have a good feeling I know what her goal is.

If it wasn't a favor, then a negotiation. It was an obvious sequence.

“You said that you need a lot of money, didn't you?”

The tactic of bringing up something about me before getting to the point.

“10 percent···.”

I felt a warm breath touch my ear. For an instant, I felt as if a blazing hot hammer had slammed against my heart. The single line that Aretha had quietly whispered made me lose my sense of reason for a second.

“I apologize, but could you please repeat that, Miss Aretha?”

······Ah?! What did I say just now?

My mouth moved on its own. You all know already, but I'm a heteromorphic being that, through alchemy, has the properties of both a human and money. Thanks to this, this means that no matter how much I'm harmed using normal means or brought close to death, I can return back to a perfect state as long as I have enough money.

If it has such a convenient advantage, then it naturally also has a disadvantage. For example, there are times when my body moves on its own. The majority of times this has happened was whenever a large amount of money was involved.

According to Ray, there's a type of gravitation that happens between money. Moreover, the larger sum usually attracts the smaller sum. I actually found myself in these sort of situations before like the time I unintentionally touched a rich person's wallet, received a scolding for absentmindedly approaching the vault in a bank, and many other troubling situations.

Nevertheless, I swear on my life that my mouth has never uttered words by itself like today.

There have been times when I would find my hand wandering around or carelessly tell a not-so-pretty woman that she has quite the personality, but I have never uttered such a polite and grammatically correct sentence reflexively like that.

“Why are you acting polite all of a sudden? You even called me by my name.”

Aretha laughed behind me and leaned her body against mine. Aah, no. The two soft sensations on my back were sending my rationality flying.

“Y-Y-Y-Yeah, why did I do that?”

“It means that you've become acquainted enough with me to listen to me properly, right?”

“No, I don't really plan to⎯”

“10 percent···.”

Aretha whispered quietly once more.

“Pardon me?!”

Even the way of speech I used back when I momentarily worked as a scout for the military came out.

“10 percent, of the inheritance.”

“······.”

My thought process ended there. Aretha, won.

“That'll probably be more than the 500,000 dollar bounty my brothers and sisters put on me, right?”

“Order me however you please, Ma'am!”

The match has been decided. The persuading side ended up being won over instead.

I already knew that whatever terms Aretha sets, if this is the remuneration, then I would accept anything.

“Take me to where I want to go. Help me collect the other wills. Keep me safe until I receive my inheritance. 10 percent of the inheritance is the pay you will receive once all of these conditions have been fulfilled.”

A sweet temptation. The scale in my mind had already tilted heavily towards the immense sum of money which was also preventing me from properly weighing the danger that was naturally going to follow as a consequence of this decision. I used whatever imagination I had left to picture myself brutally murdered in all sorts of situations, but it didn't matter. 

Was it really all right for me to accept this request? Wouldn't it be better if I waited for the sun to come up before bringing Aretha in and receiving the bounty on her? Albeit, even if I did, I still wouldn't have enough to pay back my debt with that reward. Let's say that I'm luckily able to make more money and pay back my debt. What would I have left after that?

The regret of having sold out an innocent girl's life for my own survival? That's it.

But what would happen if I accepted Aretha's conditions here?

The possibility of failure is immense, but if I do succeed, then I would receive more than enough funding to start my life anew.

A certain, but regret-filled survival or a gamble where everything is on the line.

Forked roads are always a headache.

“Haa···. Why have things ended up like this?”

After heavy contemplation, my lips finally moved.

A small bit of disappointment and despair will always follow me. Despair towards myself, despair towards the world, and despair towards others.

And now, despair towards my weak willpower.

I would always mutter that unanswered question. Even if no one answered my question of, ‘Why have things ended up like this?', the simple act of saying this out loud to myself was enough to make it feel as if this small despair wasn't my own but someone else's, making it so that I didn't have to worry about it too seriously.

Right, this is a secret, but when you mutter ‘Why have things ended up like this?', you have to also force a smile. What's important is the delivery.

“······I shouldn't have listened to what you had to say.”

I can't deny my temperament. I forgot for a while after spending a life of ease in Boston, but as expected, I'm a man of the West who dreams of making a big fortune on a single occasion.

“I'll call India Arie later and make her notarize this, so you better not get cold feet at that time.”

“I'm the one who should be saying that to you.”

This time, Aretha was the one to pour me a gla.s.s of whiskey. We were both drinking straight whiskey. Our eyes met above our gla.s.ses of pure, hard liquor.

“Deal.”

I felt a sharp pain coming from the brand on my left arm. Our gla.s.ses clinked together once more, signaling the conclusion of the contract.

∗∗∗

$300.

Another change came over me the instant I confirmed the number that the fire had left behind on my left arm. The skin on my entire body started to fall off like a snake's. It would probably be more appropriate to say that it was more similar to fish scales and not snakeskin since my skin fell off in the shape of perfect rectangles.

The “scales” were all green. There's no way that my eyes could be playing tricks on me. Not only were the “scales” actually the blood that moves and keeps this country alive, but they were also the medium used for every transaction done in the United States of America. A US dollar with George Was.h.i.+ngton's portrait in the center. It was a 1 dollar bill. My body was slowly collapsing in on itself. Dollar by dollar, my body was turning into green pieces of paper and creating a pile on the floor.

I could no longer feel my limbs. My body spilled down. My fragmented consciousness contained in each and every dollar collided against each other and screamed.

I cursed myself for having wasted 1 million dollars unsparingly. This wouldn't have happened if I had paid back my debt.

A white-haired old man spoke. Bill Withers, you have become something that is neither man nor money.

I couldn't hear anything he said after that. My ears had already become bills.

I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. My mouth and nose had naturally turned into bills as well. I couldn't breathe. I'll die at this rate.

Wait, my lungs have become dollars as well, so why do I feel like I'm suffocating?

Sudden darkness.

Everything became dark after I blinked my eyes. I couldn't breathe. Something was pressing down on my face. It was a soft sensation. I urgently pushed it away with my hand.

I felt a sunken hole through some fabric. It was a belly b.u.t.ton.

The sound of snoring. I'm making an a.s.sumption on the basis of what I feel on my hand, but it seems Aretha had fallen asleep on top of me with her stomach on my face.

“d.a.m.n it, again?”

Why did this have to happen today of all days?

I would have the same nightmare at least 3 or 4 times a week. This started happening since the day I was done in by alchemy half a year ago. 

In any case, what kind of situation is this···? I carried Aretha to her room last night after she got drunk. What happened after that?

I quietly got up from the bed and felt up my own body. Mhm, all right. I'm wearing all of my clothes. It seems there hasn't been a sudden change in my purity until marriage plan.

I tiptoed out of the room in order to not wake Aretha up.

I went down to the first floor that was slightly lit up by the sunlight while trying to ease my headache.

“Good morning.”

Unexpectedly, Ray was already up and drinking early morning coffee. His gaze appeared as if he knew I was coming, so I felt somewhat annoyed.

“I heard the bed creaking a lot last night.”

“I've told you before, but I'm remaining pure until marriage.”

The amber rays of the sun were reflecting off of Ray's colored gla.s.ses, making them emit a peculiar light.

His tone was different compared to when we would normally joke around.

“Can we talk for a second?”

As I thought.

I have a feeling I know what he wants to talk about. This is going to be a pain in the a.s.s.

∗∗∗

“I sometimes wonder how soggy the pasta noodles in your skull are since they don't seem to do their job properly. Pardon me, that was rude of me. Considering how light your head is, it must actually be full of hollow macaroni. Dried macaroni with higher portability and preservability.”

Ray was the one who was sitting across from me and ranting. He's been scolding me for 3 hours now. I wanted to keep the fact that I accepted a request for 10 percent of the inheritance a secret, but it seems he heard everything.

“How could you make such an important promise with Aretha without consulting me, your partner?!”

Aah, this is a problem, Aretha is going to come down soon. Is the headache-inducing conversation going to happen again? More importantly, my temples hurt pretty bad because I wasn't able to sleep properly.

“Have you considered how dangerous this is going to be? People like the One Man Band or monsters more awful than him will come for us by the trainful.”

“If it becomes too much for us to handle, then we can try to persuade Aretha again and make her give up.”

“If it were that easy, then I wouldn't be saying this. You have a body that can't actively go against contracts now!”

This was the first time I was hearing this.

“What are you talking about? If someone else were to hear this, then they'd probably think I'm some castrated, cultural citizen that lives well even without the law.”

“You have the properties of both a human and money! Money becomes bound by contracts. You can't run away from Aretha now.”

I didn't even consider that.

In the next moment, someone smacked my back hard. I couldn't see anyone even when I turned around. It must be Aretha.

“Are you planning to run away already?”

When did she come down to the first floor?

“It's a joke. A joke.”

“Bill! Our conversation isn't over yet!”

“The whitey seems like he has more to say to you.”

“Don't call me whitey! You savage! I have a name and it's Ray Charles!”

The reason why Aretha only called Ray ‘whitey' was probably because of how pale he is. I'm a bit too tan to be called white.

It was then that we heard a clear bell sound. Oz, who had been in the kitchen preparing breakfast this entire time, finally appeared.

“You all seem to be overflowing with vigor this morning because of your youth. Ah, of course, excluding you.”

“I'm quite young compared to other Mojos.”

“Still, have you not lived 3 times longer than I have? Haha.”

Did this old man sleep like a baby last night? How is he able to start his mornings this energetically?

“Come to think of it, it seems Miss Franklin has not returned to normal yet. Nevertheless, don't worry. If you have some of this old man Oz's delicious breakfast, then you'll surely return to normal in no time.”

Oz was holding in each of his elderly hands a plate of neatly placed egg Benedict.

A taste that could bring the invisible Aretha back to normal? Just how much alchemy was used to create this dish? On a side note, it's true that it smelled amazing. If it were bad, then would Ray and Aretha have sat down at the table without voicing any complaints?

“I tried using some specially-made hollandaise sauce.”

Oz watched over us with a satisfied look on his face as we moved our forks and knives around mindlessly. His expression was a complete opposite of the look he had last night when he was telling us about the gloomy future that was waiting for us.

Was he forcing himself to smile?

I was somewhat confident that Oz was worried about Aretha.

I feel like one of the reasons why he went out of his way to tell Aretha about her current dark situation was because he also wanted her to give up on her inheritance and was hoping that she would ask him to hide her somewhere safe.

“Ugh, why is this so difficult?!”

From what I could tell, it seems Aretha never learned how to properly use tableware. She had stabbed a m.u.f.fin with a piece of ham on top of it with her fork and was trying to shove it in her mouth without cutting it into pieces, so the yolk of the egg had burst and became smeared all around her mouth.

I lost my train of thought because of Aretha's table manners. Trying to pointlessly comprehend her actions would just give me a headache. Let's ignore her. I'll teach her properly next time or something.

“Uh···.”

It was at that moment. Aretha dropped her fork which then made a loud sound as it collided against her plate. Her slender hand was trembling as if she were having a stroke. Wait, her hand is shaking?

“I can see!”

Aretha's invisible body gradually regained its original color. Aretha instantly regained her original appearance. Her brown hair that was like clear leaves drenched in the autumn rain fluttered and her pink eyes that were as vivid as nerine flowers were trembling.

“The medicine took effect a little late, but I'm glad it took care of itself before your departure.”

Oz had a refres.h.i.+ng smile on his face.

“I can see myself······!”

Aretha was feeling up her own body as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

If she couldn't believe her own 5 senses, then I could have offered her a helping hand.

I shook my head. I'm no longer a bounty hunter who's trying to capture an improper heiress, I am now a mercenary that's contracted to Aretha. Harboring impure thoughts towards my client will only interfere with my work.

“Fortunately, this was only your first death, so your existence didn't leak out as much as I expected. However, if this happens again and you either do not take the medicine in time or you die again shortly after coming back to life, then I cannot guarantee the outcome. Keep Miss Franklin safe.”

This felt weird. It felt like I was looking at a father who was giving his daughter away in marriage.

“Wait, what do you mean by keep her safe? Don't tell me.”

“No news that travel through the United States of America can escape my ears. Do you think the conversations had in my own home are an exception?”

Oz laughed.

His hobby is eavesdropping? What a crude old man. Was he acting brighter than yesterday since he heard that I was going to help Aretha?

I casually sliced my m.u.f.fin and shoved it into my mouth.

The taste of the egg Benedict's yolk wrapped around my tongue. If it weren't for this, then I would have probably gotten upset. Honestly, this is way too good. The slight dash of pepper on top of the hollandaise sauce gave off an amazing fragrance.

“Old man, if you're not going to have that, mind if I have it?”

I pointed at the plate in front of Oz with my knife.

“This is another person's portion. There's actually one more guest who's also residing here.”

Oz shook his head. He was generous about everything else, but it seems that portion was an exception. Who's the other guest? Was there anyone else besides us here?

“More importantly,  I've prepared some extra bottles of medicine. Take them with you.”

As if trying to change the topic, Oz picked up the unsophisticated box with hinges on it, which had been lying next to his feet, and placed it on top of the table. On the surface of the box, the lid of which was designed to open up like wings, were the two letters ‘OZ'.

“The medicine I had yesterday were pills···.”

Aretha gazed at Oz nervously.

Oz responded with only a nod.

Aretha pulled open the lid. 9 small, clear bottles filled with golden liquid were fixed in place by the purple cus.h.i.+on at the bottom of the box.

“The pills I gave you yesterday were made in a hurry, so they took some time before their medicinal effect appeared, but this medicine should take effect very quickly.”

He should have given her those to begin with, then.

“If you drink this, then it'll slowly absorb your being, which had leaked out, from the objects around you. I call this medicine, ‘Equalizer'.”

Aretha pulled out one of the bottles and slowly examined it. The golden liquid inside the bottle continued to swirl around.

“They look so pretty that I feel like it'd be a waste to drink them.”

Aretha muttered while her eyes were glued on to the bottle of medicine. The way her eyes were wide open like a pair of silver coins made her face look like a chipmunk or a squirrel, so I snuck a peek at her face while pretending to also look at the bottle.

“This old man would be happy if the need to drink this medicine never comes up again, but if you do end up having to drink them, then I hope that you do not disappear before drinking all 9 bottles here.”

There was a hint of concern on Oz's face.

“Remember, Miss Franklin. No one knows how many chances you have left. Moreover, make sure to drink the medicine as fast as possible if you die. There's no point in drinking the Equalizer after your existence has already disappeared completely.”

“I guess even the greatest scholar of New World alchemy can't help us that much either, huh?”

Oz smiled bitterly. I was joking, but it seems I had struck his pride.

“Bill! How dare you say that to Master Osbourne⎯”

“It's okay, Charles. It's the truth, after all. Do we humans not always live within the bounds of limitations?”

Ray gripped his cane tightly in frustration. His rings sc.r.a.ped against the handle of his cane and made a jarring sound. I didn't think that the word ‘limitation' could come out from the mouth of an alchemist who meddles in the bounds of nature.

“This is the most this old man can do to help. No, I guess it shouldn't be a problem to drop you off at your next destination. All right, have you decided where you're going to go?”

I recalled the conversation I had with Aretha last night about the letter.

6 wills.

Excluding the will in Aretha's possession, the other 5 wills were in the respective personal bank vaults of her half-siblings. Come to think of it, I wasn't told where the banks were.

“I have to collect a total of 5 wills. Each one of them is in the respective bank of the cities where each of my other siblings live. All of the banks were bought by the Franklin family for the sake of circulating funds easily. Right now, my half-siblings are managing them.”

Aretha continued in a cheerful tone.

“I plan to collect them one at a time as we head east. Our first stop······ Omaha seems like a good place to start.”

Omaha is a city in Nebraska which is a state that's located in the center of the United States of America. As expected of a daughter of a railroad company, wanting to start at Omaha, a prime example of a city that was revived thanks to the transcontinental railway.

“If it's Omaha···. They're in the middle of a festival right now.”

Ray's face lit up. By festival, is he referring to the ‘Connection Festival'? Omaha has a lot of German immigrants, so they have good beer.

“I approve. Coincidentally, I have ‘something to do' in Omaha as well.”

Ray consented. I was still uncertain.

“Do you plan to begin in Omaha due to the simple fact that it's near your starting point, Sacramento?”

Oz asked Aretha.

“That's not it. Naturally, I intend to collect the wills one by one from west to east, but according to my investigation, my half-brother, Rodney, who has the will in Omaha, is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d child like me. Our mothers aren't the same, but I feel like I should be able to talk to him since we're sort of the same.”

Oz slowly nodded his head.

“It would be ideal if you could resolve everything through dialogue, but be careful. Mr. Gray will come after you again once he's healed.”

Despite hearing Oz's warning, Aretha continued to grin. She almost looked like a child that was looking forward to something. Don't tell me.

“I'm asking this just in case, but the reason you want to go to Omaha first isn't for some stupid reason like wanting to attend the Connection Festival, right?”

I gazed at Aretha using the cold glare I would use when bringing someone back to their senses. Twitch, it almost felt like I audibly heard her flinch. Aretha was smiling timidly. I was on the mark.

“Omaha is out of the question now. Let's start somewhere else.”

Without waiting to hear Aretha's response, I erased that option.

“What's so bad about a festival?! I've never been to a proper festival in all my life! The closest thing I've seen is the ritual for rain back in my village! It was so boring that I had even prayed to the greater spirits to send down a handsome man! Aah! I want to walk around a festival while holding hands with a cooler older boy, eat something tasty, and watch a marching band like all the other girls! Jeez!”

Aretha pounded on the table and kicked her feet. Just how desperate was she for entertainment and to get away from her home?

Well, I can't deny the fact that I also wouldn't mind holding hands with a beautiful older woman and enjoy meals together with her while laughing.

Regardless, I didn't have a good feeling about this. Among all of the cities that have the will, Omaha is the closest place to the starting point. The other party has probably already made preparations to greet us.

“No. It's dangerous.”

Aretha looked as if she were close to tears. This is bad. This is definitely a sign that she was preparing to act cute. I contemplated whether I should close my eyes or not. What should I do?

“Pleeeease⎯sniff⎯”

I hastily stabbed a piece of my egg Benedict with my fork and shoved it in Aretha's mouth. Fortunately, I was able to seal her attempt to charm me. Aretha pouted as she glared at me and proceeded to chew as if she intended to eat both the food and the fork. Ray tried to hold back his laughter as he watched us, but he wound up bursting into laughter anyway.

“It'll be dangerous no matter where we go!”

“We should avoid places that are especially dangerous.”

Bounty hunters are known as people who enjoy adventures, but that's all a fantasy created by dime novel authors.

Bounty hunters are people who team up with 2 or 3 other people in order to safely capture a criminal using numbers, before then proceeding to kill the other bounty hunters without any hesitation in order to take all of the reward money.

Even if our aim is to earn quick money, we don't pick fights we know we're going to lose, and even if we do end up in a dangerous situation, we always prepare a hole to sneak out of beforehand. We're wise people that don't go down dangerous paths unless it's absolutely necessary.

Aretha averted her bleary gaze as if she were sulking and spoke.

“You promised that you'd take me wherever I want to go safely and quickly.”

At that moment, a sharp pain traveled up my left arm.

“Ah!”

The source of the pain was the brand on my arm. $600. The total sum of the money in my body. It was simply a tattoo that I wouldn't be conscious of unless I took money out of my body or used a portion of the money to restore my body, so why was it causing this much pain right now?

“I told you. Your body is now tied to Aretha.”

Ray spoke while licking off the sauce on his finger.

“Is that Ennio's work?”

Oz uttered while looking at the one remaining plate of egg Benedict.

Once Oz uttered the name of Ray's master, in other words, the name of my creditor, I felt my body tense up completely.

“Yes. In order to fix the debtor's, Bill's, lavish spending habit, Master turned Bill into an unstable existence that's neither human or money, so whenever he takes out money, it'll feel as if he's peeling off his own flesh.”

Ray glanced at me.

I still felt a stinging pain in my left arm, so I waved it around.

I already got used to the pain of taking out money, so it doesn't bother me anymore. Regardless, that pain just now was much stronger than usual.

Meanwhile, Aretha was staring at me with a surprised look on her face after she heard Ray's explanation. Her gaze felt as if it contained either kins.h.i.+p or sympathy, so I pretended to be indifferent and turned away.

It was just as Ray had said. I'm an unstable existence that's neither man nor money. However, or maybe thanks to this, I have the properties of both a human and money. Money is naturally bound to contracts. I was promised 10 percent of the inheritance which Aretha is supposed to receive, and, as a result, I had become bound to that promise.

The moment Aretha mentioned the word ‘promise', the desire to not go to Omaha disappeared from my mind without a trace. The only thing that was left behind was the desire to completely agree with Aretha's suggestion and follow her. We're going to Omaha. That's where Aretha wants to go, after all.

“Let's go to Omaha.”

Aretha, who seemed to have been hesitating, nodded. She must have been thinking about what sort of weight the word ‘promise' had on me after having heard about my condition. She might be feeling guilty about having taken away my free will.

Honestly, it felt as if my sense of self was forcefully suppressed, but it didn't upset me too badly. It felt as if she had simply persuaded me with a completely rational reason. I wound up taking back my opinion because of the simple reason that Aretha wanted to go. I didn't even remotely feel as if my pride had been hurt or as if I wanted to rebuke her.

“Considering how money obediently obeys contracts, they make quite the good partner. Don't you agree, Bill?”

“Shut up.”

Of course, third parties that are completely unrelated to the contract are an exception.

“How about making a contract with me? I'll even include a premium.”

“Buzz off. I don't make deals with wicked traders.”

Ray shrugged and turned to look at Oz again. It seems he wanted to change the topic.

“There's something I've been wanting to ask, Master Osbourne.”

Ray went back to speaking in a courteous tone again as he called out to Oz.

“Go ahead, Charles.”

“It's about the Fund Manager that attacked us yesterday.”

Ray paused for a brief moment before continuing.

“I know that One Man Band, Bryshere Gray's Fund, ‘Fifty Shades', is ranked as a Hedge Fund.”

Hedge Fund? I've never heard of that term before. Did Funds also have categories they're separated into?

“What's that?”

Once I b.u.t.ted in, Ray frowned as if he expected my intrusion.

“It refers to the Funds that are capable of meddling in the nature which resides deep within the will of the world. They're capable of potentially damaging the world's will regardless of the value granted to them, so their usage is normally prohibited.”

Oz answered my question in a generous tone.

“In any case, the fact that a dangerous Fund which can't be used without permission appeared means⎯”

Ray called for our attention once more.

“It's fine to think that a Celebrity from the Million Dollar Round Table has started to move.”

A cold air drifted over the table. Honestly speaking, the most normal citizens like Aretha and I know about the Million Dollar Round Table is the fact that they're an organization of Fund Managers with a huge amount of funding.

However, to the people who are knowledgeable, it seems that a Celebrity taking action is something to be very afraid of.

“I'm unable to confirm that. No matter how much I follow the path of sound, I can't find the senior managers of the Million Dollar Round Table. I'm certain that they're plotting something, but I can't tell what sort of plan they have. However, as you said, the fact that Sir Gray is moving means that one of the Celebrities gave him permission to use his Hedge Fund.”

Hm, from what I could tell, right now was the perfect opportunity to ask another question. I'll have to ask in Aretha's stead since she seems to not know when to jump in. Of course, I'm also curious about this as well.

“Sorry for interrupting again, but what kind of people are they? Those Celebrity people or whatever.”

Ray and Oz turned to look at me at the same time.

“It seems we lacked consideration. I apologize.”

Oz gave Ray a slight nod. This old man is rather good at making people do things for him.

“Celebrity is what people call the three alchemists in the Million Dollar Round Table with the highest power of decision making. The Million Dollar Round Table is filled with alchemists that only move while prioritizing their own gains, but these three people possess a power that can even make these greedy individuals move.”

People who can make big decisions. They're the type of people that annoys me the most. If someone antagonizes me, then I can just shoot them to death. Be it 2 or 10 people, it's all the same. However, it's a different story when it comes to individuals who hide behind groups of people.  Even if I kill a hundred people, they'll just bring another hundred. Compared to me who lives on the chess board, they're the ones moving the chess pieces.

“In a way, you might not be in such a hopeless situation. If you consider how the leading members of the Million Dollar Round Table ordered a large-scale annihilation when the last Flasko appeared, you could say that your current situation is much more hopeful. The fact that Sir Gray was the only one to come after you so far means that the Round Table is not paying that much attention to Miss Aretha.”

Hopeful. Despite Oz's rea.s.surance, a shadow was cast over Ray's face. It couldn't be helped since he had a reasonable grasp of the situation and was in a position where he had to help me as I escorted Aretha. I had a vague grasp of things, but, at the very least, even I understood how dangerous this task was.

“Let me offer a piece of advice, Sir Gray's Fund, Fifty Shades, loses its power in the evening when the sun goes down or in dark places. You should be a little safer if you keep this in mind.”

That's actually something I should try not to forget.

“Thanks for the advice. I won't forget it, gramps.”

Celebrity. I became a little curious about the people who were capable of moving the Million Dollar Round Table. Although, if possible, I'd like to avoid meeting them. Would I be able to handle it if one of them ever decided to walk onto the chess board?

“Let's get a move on. Ray, lighten up. You're the only one making a face right now, you know?”

I patted Ray's shoulder and pointed at Aretha. I wanted to get rid of this mentally agonizing atmosphere as soon as possible.

Aretha had already picked up her bag and had on her coat.

“I'm all ready!”

Aretha was smiling brightly. On one side, a guy was incredibly scared because he knew too much, while, on the other side, a girl was incredibly cheerful because she was probably ignorant. How am I supposed to balance this?

“Don't worry about it too much. You'll also receive your share once this is all over.”

I reasoned with Ray. Of course, there wasn't even a shred of truth in my words. I'm going to take all of the money.

“d.a.m.n it, if my master hadn't ordered me, then I wouldn't be babysitting an idiot like you.”

“How am I supposed to fight against Fund Managers without you, ‘Esoteric' Ray Charles?”

The tattoo on Ray's neck emitted an orange glow for a very brief moment.

“Don't call me by that name. Also, make sure to figure out how much my share is going to be beforehand.”

Aah, that's a relief. The normal Ray is back. Now the three of our goals have aligned.

“Let's do what we usually do. When did we ever go around looking for safe jobs?”

I got my breath back and continued.

“People are disappointing and new environments are challenging. However, a hefty wallet lets you endure all hards.h.i.+p.”

I reminded Ray about the goal of our trip. I tried to indoctrinate the idea that everything was going to end nicely.

Be it Ray or myself, money may be the root of evil, but we have no other choice but to continue loving it.

“Yeah. There's an Indian saying that goes along the lines of, ‘People who sell land to whiteys that offer marbles are stupid and people who don't sell land to whiteys that offer gold are absolute morons.'. When all is said and done, money is the best.”

“Don't lie.”

Ray and I both shouted together.

“Indians don't lie.”

“You're a mixed-blood. Don't make up weird sayings and spread prejudice about Natives in white society.”

“I didn't make it up, though? There's a legend this saying originated from, you know?”

“You guys selling land for some marbles isn't a legend, that's something that actually happened a lot during the early stages of the pioneering age! It's supposed to be a heart-rending story for your people, so you shouldn't turn it into a light joke!”

“Who cares? I'm a mixed-blood, anyway.”

“You're rather irresponsible, huh?”

“People have some flaws too.”

“You said you were an Indian! Shouldn't you manage the image of your people?! Outside your village, you're the representative of Native Americans! Take some responsibility!”

“I'm only half-Indian, so I only have to take half the responsibility! Ehe!”

“Since you only have half of your father's blood, you should tell the bank people that you'll only take half of your inheritance. Your half-siblings would be overjoyed.”

“I'm not Jesus, I can't inherit only half a person's blood!”

Oz watched the three of us with a satisfied, benevolent smile on his face. It was such a standardized old man smile that it didn't feel inspiring.

In my experience, old people who smile like this were either people who were fickle during their youth and started self-reflecting after meeting their match or villains who lived their lives constantly smiling like that ‘no matter what they did'. You can call me twisted. This is just my personal bias.

“Hey, gramps.”

I already said this a little while ago, but I can't hold back questions whenever I'm curious about something. I believe that you should try to get answers as soon as possible.

“The bed was comfy and the breakfast was delicious. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

And I proceeded to get to the point.

“But, I still don't understand why you're helping Aretha. I'm not sure if it's because I was raised in the West or because I have a twisted temperament by nature, but it doesn't feel like you're doing this favor simply because you're worried about Aretha.”

Kindness without a catch doesn't exist in the West. That's a rule that has never changed since the peak of the pioneering era and even after the pioneering had ended.

“You're quite the distrustful young man, huh?”

“The only things bounty hunters trust are money and their gun. They don't love either.”

“It is always a pleasure to learn about another person's point of view.”

“What do you want?”

I looked Oz straight in the eyes and asked. I won't leave behind future problems. If necessary, I'll put a hole in this Master or whatever's head.

I placed my right hand near my holster and waited for Oz's answer.

“This isn't the West. It's a kind land where unwarranted kindness is given and received. Keep in mind that your knowledge does not represent the entire world.”

It was that smile again. A harmless gaze that demanded disarmament.

“I'll bear that in mind.”

I put out my right hand. A firm handshake that didn't suit his slender figure followed.

“I'll leave Miss Franklin in your care.”

“That's none of your business.”

“Stop being rude, Bill!”

Oz waved his hand at the angered Ray.

I smiled. There was a bit of anxiety in the corner of my heart that didn't disappear, but I still smiled.

Should I leave prejudice as prejudice and leave a spot for trust?

I adjusted my hat.

“Then let's go to Omaha!”

Aretha chirped in a needlessly bright voice.

“It's been a long time since I last had this many guests over, so it was rather pleasant, but it seems this house will be settling down again.”

After a lonely, and yet temperate and heavy smile appeared on Oz's lips, he shook his bra.s.s bell once.

A clear sound echoed. Within the violet circle that appeared after the crack in the air had shattered, we could see an alleyway between stone buildings.

The old man appearing strangely lonely was probably just my imagination.

Without turning back, I walked into the violet circle.

“At the very least, I hope that misfortune does not follow you.”

I heard Oz bless us from behind.

“Yeah, at least that's realistic here in the West.”

Moderation is the greatest virtue in the West. Additionally, everything to the left of the Mississippi River on a map is a part of the West.

It's a relief that Aretha chose to go to Omaha. We haven't crossed the Mississippi river yet. I felt a little at ease since we were still in an area where the law of the world which I knew still worked.

After leaving behind a short response, I walked into the unknown alley.

“Bon voyage.”

Once Oz's farewell grazed my ear along with the sound of the bell, the loop disappeared.

I'm not sure why, but I had a feeling I was going to meet this old man again one day.

If I really do end up meeting him again, I hope I don't regret putting my gun away back during our first encounter. I want to try believing in goodwill for once.

TL note: Thanks for reading the chapter. Sorry for taking longer than usual with this release. It's a long chapter, but my new schedule for my cla.s.ses this semester is preventing me from being able to translate for long periods of times. I'm hoping I can get more done once I get accustomed to this schedule and figure out when I can squeeze in more translating times.

On a side note, starting a new series is always a pain at the beginning. There's so much exposition. The previous chapter was a bunch of character descriptions and this chapter was a bunch of plot stuff. Wasn't that bad, but being unable to focus on translating for long periods of time causes my concentration to break and I lose my train of thought, so I apologize if certain parts don't flow nicely.