Chapter 2: Volume 1 - CH 1.1

The Great War and Prohibition. It’s no exaggeration to say that those two things screwed up the world.

Seymour thought while driving his car. It felt to him as though all trace of the tears and blood that had been spilled blended with the evening sun, despite the fact that not a single scar from the war remained on the townscape visible through the windshield.

The biggest scar the Great War left behind was the collapse of traditional values. It was difficult to believe that anything was just when standing on a battlefield where ten thousand people had been pulverized in a single day.

A righteous human would live righteously and die righteously. If you conducted yourself righteously, you’d be rewarded righteously. The definition of righteousness was as precise and exact as the international kilogram prototype. Seymour was pretty sure that the people of the past believed the world to be like that to a greater or lesser extent. And in reality, there might have been such a world before Seymour became old enough to be aware of the things around him.

But that world was smashed into smithereens by the countless bullets shot during the Great War. It was a matter of course for the postwar world to be defined by individualism. In the absence of a generally agreed upon set of moral values, it was only natural that people stopped pursuing the path of personal righteousness. Why bother trying to be a paragon of virtue when no one even agreed on what was virtuous anymore?

It was clear just by looking out the window. People were drinking booze, and smoking cigarettes on the streets. The hair and skirts of the women kept getting shorter with each passing year. Vulgar advertisements that screamed for attention as if the world were ending were plastered on every scrap of paper. Illegal conventions were organized by young people, and attended by formerly young people trying to recapture their youth.

The value system that should have existed had broken down, and immoral acts, which had once been restrained by those values, lost their stigma. Morality and immorality had become no more than different hats to be worn when the mood struck.

Seymour widened his eyes as a drunkard with a hip flask in one hand jumped out onto the roadway. He dodged the man, by pulling hard on the steering wheel, crossing over into the opposing lane in the process.

And then there was Prohibition.

How did a law prohibiting the production and sale of alcohol make it through congress and become law? Seymour didn’t understand, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

However, he fully understood the results. In short, plenty of alcohol continued to be sold at stores, street corners, and diners, just like before, even after the enactment of the law. In the end, the law ended up resulting in no more than a new source of income for the mafia, which had been in this country since the old days. The common people, who saw drinking as a part of everyday life, welcomed any new alcohol producer, even if the source was an illegal organization. Even police officers, who were the ones who were supposed to crack down on them, and members of congress, who were the ones that passed the law, were included among the people who wholeheartedly rejoiced over the existence of bootleggers.

Throughout history, there had never been a time where organizations like the mafia were approved of so openly. And there would probably never be a time like this again.

The Great War, and Prohibition. Those two things broke the world. And when Seymour became conscious of his surroundings, he found himself in that broken era.

That was all there was to it.

“Back then everything was better,” some people said. “We are in the middle of a golden era,” other people said. Seymour didn’t know which of them was right, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

However, once he considered that there weren’t as many cars around in the past as now, Seymour didn’t harbor an overly strong desire to return to the past.

“────Here, eh?”

The designated meeting place was located in a relatively high-class residential area. It wasn’t an area full of exclusively single family houses with big gardens, but neither was it a neighborhood with beggars at every street corner. You could describe it as ordinary, a term that told you almost nothing, except that it was wholesome, but that was a precious thing in this city.

He brought the car’s frame close to a berm, and stepped on the brake. Arbitrarily picking a curb, and being able to park his black Essex perfectly parallel to it, gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

Once the car stopped moving, coldness suddenly permeated it. Without stopping the engine, he took his hands off the steering wheel, and stretched them backwards while making sure not to hit the car’s roof. The sun had already sunken, and the crescent moon, looking like a curved claw, floated in the sky. Gunshots could be faintly heard in the distance. It seemed that the disputes between fellow mafia clans were as intense as usual.

His eyes wandered to the rearview mirror. In the past he had been proud of being tall, but after he had started to ride in cars, the times where he found it annoying instead increased rapidly. He put his forelocks in order, and fixed a faint smile on his lips. One that was more businesslike than what he’d use to call out to a girl walking through the city. This perfunctory smile was primarily to avoid upsetting the other party, as opposed to an attempt to win them over.

He moved a hand towards his chest. While he debated whether he should slide his fingers into the breast pocket, he turned his eyes to his surroundings. It was right when his index finger touched his cigarette pack that he spotted a pair that seemed to be his clients. One man, one woman. The woman was faintly quickening her pace to keep up with the man.

Seymour tapped the underside of the pack, and put the cigarette, which popped out, between his lips.

The man had apparently combed back his bouncy, frizzy, light brown, hair against its will. He reminded Seymour of Tarzan forced into a suit, or a wolf with a collar around its neck. He had a disturbing aura, as if the cloth of his suit was acting to bind violence itself into the shape of a man. He was older than twenty, but hadn’t passed thirty yet – approximately the same age as Seymour.

And then the woman. No, girl?

“…”

Seeing the appearance of the girl, Seymour’s cigarette jerked in his mouth.

What stood out most about her was the silver hair extending all the way to her hips, and, her golden eyes, that shone so strongly that they were visible even within the darkness.

Silver hair is pretty unusual, but I don’t think it’s bleach or anything.

It was her face that made him think that. Putting it bluntly, the girl was beautiful. Her hair, which was even crisper than the snow piling up on the street, and her eyes, which seemed to emit a light from within, were eye-catching without being over the top. However, because of the simple beauty of their mere existence, he couldn’t imagine that she would need to doll herself up.

If he were forced to nitpick, he didn’t particularly care for the way the outer corners of her eyes slanted upwards. However, if that was the only thing standing in the way of a relationship with her, Seymour would almost certainly become a fan of slanted eyes on the spot.

“You’re Seymour Road?”

It was the man who posed that question. He had a voice that resembled a growl, fitting his outward appearance.

Seymour pinched out his unsmoked cigarette, and dropped it outside the car. He turned his eyes towards the wolf-like man, but his focus remained on the girl at the edge of his sight.

Judging from her appearance, the girl was probably in the latter half of her teens. He couldn’t be too sure, as her face was too pretty, but something about her facial expression, which lacked any toughness, and her slender limbs, which missed any fleshiness, gave him the impression that she was at an age that could hardly be called adult.

He attempted to guess the nature of the relation between the man and the girl, but gave up on it. When he opened his mouth, his standard questions came out.

“How far does it need to be transported, and how fast?”

“This one, to this address. Within 40 minutes.”

He lowered his eyes at the bills serving as payment, and the memo, which were both passed to him. Fortunately, he could immediately place the address on the map inside his head.

Pheew, that’s great. Nothing makes a man look more uncool than rubbing his nose against a map. If I drive normally, it’ll take around 30 minutes, huh? On the way, we’ll have to cross the bridge spanning over the administrative district, but that’s the most I need to pay attention to. The pay is good as well. It’s not excessively low ─ such requests generally end up being troublesome ─ nor is it excessively high ─ those requests generally end up being troublesome as well.

The girl opened the back door and got into the car. Even though the backseat looked far too big for the girl’s slender body, she politely sat down in a manner that took up as little room as possible, pressing her knees.

The man started to shut the car door, but stopped just before it closed. He peeked into the car cautiously, scrutinizing it with his eyes.

“Oi, be very careful while transporting her.”

“There’s only one kind of careful in my line of work.”

Seymour replied, with the underlying implication that he was always paying appropriate, accurate attention, but it apparently didn’t get through to the man in the right way. Looking displeased, the man shut the door while snorting.

“We’re off. If you want to hold onto something, please feel free, okay?”

He hadn’t expected a reply to his remark, but the girl spoke up. Her voice was slightly husky, like a soft carpet, and a bit lower than he had imagined.

“Would it be better for me to hold on?”

It was the first time that he had been asked something like that.

While stopping the corners of his mouth from curving upwards he replied, “Yes. The departure of a car is dangerous. There was actually a study showing that half of all deadly accidents in cars happen due to a passenger suddenly bumping their head right when the car starts to move. Probably. Somewhere.”

“I understand. I will make sure to keep holding on…!”

Her far too serious response, accompanied by a firm nod, made Seymour laugh deep inside his throat. He stepped onto the accelerator, albeit a tiny bit more carefully than usual. The girl’s hands tightly grasped the seat and door until she was sufficiently convinced that the car had finished accelerating.

As midnight was approaching, there wasn’t much traffic. The city’s residents, long ago spat out by the many-storied buildings that lined the streets of the city center, were mostly within their homes, in neighborhoods like this, by now. The congestion, which lasted from morning till night, had become part of the natural scenery of the city in the last few years, but no trace of it could be found now on the roads illuminated by the street lights.

Seymour turned his gaze towards the rearview mirror. The girl wasn’t gazing outside the window, nor did she harbor any interest or vigilance towards the courier, Seymour. Instead, she kept her eyes down throughout the journey. Her expression didn’t look as if she was engaged in self reflection, rather, it seemed as if her inner self had curled up into a ball, locked up in a birdcage.

Still, how to describe it? I feel like she’s a girl who doesn’t fit in anywhere. Her long hair, her long skirt, and even her dress, all properly buttoned up to her collar; none of it fits with this era. Being in the backseat of a Sedan-type Essex doesn’t suit her at all. However, if someone were to ask me what car would suit her, nothing would come to mind either. Be it a Bugatti, a Lancia Lambda, or a Ford, I kinda can’t feel that it’d appropriate for her to be in any of them. Or, going even further, she’s a girl who doesn’t fit in with this city, be it the aftermath of the war, the individualism, the mafia, the utilitarian pleasures, Prohibition, or even the Jazz spreading in the city.

Having thought up to this point, Seymour remonstrated himself. Not asking 『what』 was Seymour Road’s main selling point. Of course, there was no need to come up with sentimental conjectures about the girl on the backseat either.

Well, be that as it may…

Feeling that her proper bearing and lowered eyes were oddly silly, Seymour turned the wheel slightly roughly as they turned a corner.

“Hyaa!”

The girl’s small yelp. Her swaying head. And her knees, which had been glued together, it was all thrown into disarray. She lifted her golden eyes. Being stared at through the rearview mirror, Seymour made an effort to gloss it over with a serious face. He was satisfied. He had appeased his childish, mischievous, heart.

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“Excuse me. The road’s surface was frozen.”

That was a lie, but it was true that the road was dyed white at spots thanks to the snow that fell yesterday. However, the far more dreadful spots were the black areas of the road. Over there the snow had been flattened by many tires over the day, and was now in the process of freezing over again as night had fallen. Those patches were far more fiendish than any snow.

Seymour got very startled when the girl still spoke up because it was something he had done secretively. However, the girl apparently hadn’t noticed Seymour’s childish lie.

“Umm, the window, is it okay for me to open it?”

“Yes, of course. Do you know how? Please be careful, okay? There’s a study stating that half of the deadly accidents in cars actually come from unexpectedly getting stuck in the window when opening and closing it, but…”

“That’s a joke, right?”

The one before was a joke as well, Seymour politely added in his mind.

Even though the girl’s voice carried a laugh, her expression fell somewhat short as usual. The girl opened the window by clumsily turning the handle. The wind blowing into the moving car was biting. Seymour opened and clenched his right hand as his body quivered for a moment. In a flash, his body became so chilled that he could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers.

This might interfere with my driving. Despite this thought, he had no intention of telling her to close the window.

“……It feels great.”

The girl calmly stared outside the widely-opened window. She faintly inclined her body so that several strands of her hair were caught by the wind, floating outside the car. Despite the numbing coldness, she didn’t blink, let alone tremble. She looked as if she might suddenly get carried away by the wind as soon as he took his eyes off her.

The car approached the big bridge spanning across the administrative district. Seymour powerfully stepped on the accelerator.

“────Ah.”

The girl’s hair was shoved around by the wind blowing into the car. Having her head thrown back a bit by the acceleration, the girl smiled faintly, as if rejoicing over his rudeness rather than minding it.

The world outside the window was dark, with only the city’s dazzling lights standing out. Because the car repeatedly passed lamps atop the bridge, that darkness stood out all the more. Within that darkness, which was far deeper and calmer than that of the ocean beneath them, only the girl’s eyes appeared to shine like morning stars.

Probably because of that. The girl abruptly muttered a few words. He had no clue why she muttered those words, but her voice was filled with her own sincerity, seemingly leaving her no choice but to voice them out.

“The night’s darkness, that’s something decided by people.”

Hearing those words, Seymour lightly nodded his head. He didn’t know the girl’s name or her circumstances, but he didn’t think he would forget this moment for the rest of his life.

This girl, who didn’t fit in with this city at all, seemed to only be at ease within such darkness. And the fact that it was him and his car who provided that environment made him awfully happy. Of course, that was no more than a selfish, strong, emotion soaked with sentimentality, though.

While maintaining a considerably higher speed than usual, he even thought that it’d be nice for this bridge to continue indefinitely. Seymour was gripped by the gentle impulse that now was a time where he could say even something like that.

“…….Can I have you close the window?”

However, what came out of his mouth next were those words.

“Eh? Ah, it must be cold, right? I’m very sorry!”

“It’s not particularly a problem, but, ah…”

Once he ambiguously spoke up, the girl tilted her head to the side with a gesture devoid of ill will.

“It’s Lumi. Lumi Spike.”

“Although it’s not my place to say so after having heard it, it’s better to not tell your name to the people in this city, Ms. Lumi. You never know where shady people might lurk around.”

“But, Mr. Driver, you’re not a bad person, right?”

The girl ── Lumi, hurriedly wound the window’s handle as she spoke. After shrugging his shoulders at her words, Seymour glared through the rearview mirror, and let up on the car’s accelerator.

“By the way, Ms. Lumi, we’re being chased by several rugged cars. Do you happen to have an idea of who they are?”

Several cars were reflected on the mirror’s surface, which had become slightly cloudy due to the wind. Seymour thought they were just parking, but just now each of them turned on their headlights. The parting words of the beast-like man crossed his mind.

『Oi, be very careful while transporting her.』

This city was divided into five administrative districts, many of them connected by bridges. In other words, the bridges of this city were perfect for ambushes.

Lumi widened her eyes. With just that, her mimetic muscles were expressive enough to betray her unrest better than a hundred answers could have done. She quickly cast her eyes, which had been turned outside the window, down.

“……I’m terribly sorry.”

“These things happen. In short, it means those cars aren’t just big fans of mine, huh?”

“U-Umm…please stop the car. I-I think it will be alright as long as they catch me.”

“Alright, you say?”

Lumi raised her eyes, as if that was a matter of etiquette. Her eyes firmly looked into Seymour’s eyes through the mirror.

“If I’m caught, you will be safe. That’s why… I’m asking you to stop the car.”

Seymour answered while properly staring back at her, “I see. I must decline.”

“Eeehh?”

At that time Seymour had removed one hand from the wheel, and was in the process of rummaging through his pocket. With one eye on the pursuing cars, that had sped up, and were continuing to gain on them, he revealed a smile.

“All I wanted to know was whether you had any idea about what was going on. Anything beyond that is my problem, Ms. Lumi.”

“B-But, they are really dangerous! I’m sure they are the mafia or something like that. The lives of others don’t mean anything to them────!”

“Mebbie,” said Seymour with a muffled voice.

His voice was muffled due to the thin gloves he was holding in his mouth, having just taken them out of his pocket. He pulled on one glove all the way to the fingertips, while biting it with his mouth. Next, he held the wheel with just his right hand, and repeated the same procedure for his left hand. A few small bits of the gloves were already indented, and partly pierced, because of Seymour’s canines. Those markings were evidence that he had done this many times before.

“But, I’m a courier. Things like obstacles or interferences are irrelevant.”

Five in total. Two in front, and three from behind. They’ve been slowly tightening their encirclement with coordinated movements, like a swarm of orcas targeting a whale.

He took one deep breath, and, immediately after, he drove his foot into the accelerator.

“I’m simply going to deliver you────okay!?”

It was such a wild acceleration that it almost gave them whiplash. The girl screamed behind Seymour as he swiftly changed gears.

The pursuers probably hadn’t expected Seymour, who appeared ready to comply for an instant when he started to slow down, to do something like that at all. The teamwork of the five cars was praiseworthy, but they had been slightly careless.

The Essex thrust its nose through the small gap in their coordination, created by their turmoil. It was a radical maneuver. He heard the sound of Lumi bumping her head against the door as the car flew past their pursuers, up to the bridge’s end.

“Ah, please hold on tight, okay?”

“Y-You’re a bit late in telling me that!”

Lumi shot back, with tears blurring her eyes, Seymour laughed loudly.

—————– End of Part 1 —————–

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