[Sukamoka Vol. 3] Chapter 3 Part 5: Fake Red

“Hmm?” Feodor looked over his shoulder. For some time it’d felt like someone was watching – no, chasing – him. Now that he was scanning his surroundings, however, the presence had vanished.

“Was I just imagining it…?”

Shaking his head, he started to walk again, yawning in the early morning air.

He might be collaborating with Giggir, but the two of them hadn’t yet built up the mutual trust actual comrades shared. While the Orc seemed somewhat reliable, Feodor still wasn’t sure if he could trust him. Entrusting Lakish to someone like that made him so anxious he practically couldn’t get a wink of sleep. That’s why he’d woken up before the sun rose and immediately ran off the Winged Guard’s base.

There’s no panic or anything. Looks like she didn’t go berserk overnight, then…

Even if he tried to keep in mind she’d only been with Giggir for one night so far, it still seemed like a dangerous gamble. Even then, he had no intentions of backing out now.

His head felt slightly heavy, weighed down by a small pounding headache. Not only did I not get enough sleep, I had a nightmare…

Feodor could vaguely remember it. In a place he’d never seen before, he had crossed swords with someone he’d never met before, using blades he’d never wielded before. He felt as if he’d been swept up into a maelstrom of negative feelings – frustration, hatred, sorrow.

The word was felt; he’d forgotten the details of the nightmare by now. The dreams he had always held some kernel of reality amidst the chaos. Even so, it would melt away in the blink of an eye as he woke up. That was how dreams tended to be.

At any rate, that had completely ruined what was supposed to be a refreshing morning for him.

“A-ARE yooooou L-LOOKING FOR… for a-a-a ROAD…?”

It seemed like he’d unconsciously stopped while thinking about all the things that had happened recently. Perhaps because he’d looked like a lost child, a nearby tourist information golem had started talking to him. 

“No, no, I’m fine.” He lightly shooed away the golem, which gently bowed its head and stuttered out “H-HAAVE a nice… D-D-DAY!” in distorted tones. It turned and shambled off down the street somewhere else. This town had lost its value as a tourist destination long ago. Yet, the golems kept performing their role even now.

I should focus, Feodor thought. His gamble had already begun. He couldn’t turn back, nor could he stay put. There was just one thing he could do – keep moving forward.

He slapped his cheeks once, then resumed his trek.

---

Red.

That was the first reaction Feodor had when he entered Lakish’s room.

His stunned, half-numbed mind slowly started to grasp what his eyes were seeing.

Red was the color of the dress. It was a clear bright wine-red outfit, sleeveless and bold. Daringly, it exposed some of her back, while oddly managing to not appear vulgar. The hem had a charming little flounce, ruffles of overlapping red silk and white lace. Her black gloves went up to her elbows, and her stockings were similarly black.

Altogether, it was… how should he put it… quite charming.

“…Oh, Feodor? Morning.”

Closing the book she’d been flipping through, the girl in the dress turned around. Her long scarlet hair – probably a wig – softly fluttered around her. She brushed away a stray lock from her cheek with clear irritation.

“La…kish?”

“Yep, that’s me. See anyone else here?”

“You look like someone else.” With mixed feelings, Feodor looked her over. The original Lakish hadn’t been the type of girl who liked to dress up – though he supposed that was true of all four of them. Her military uniform was naturally out of the question as far as fashion went, and even her civilian clothes were overly homely. As a result, he’d always viewed her appearance as rather… unpolished.

Now such a girl was wearing an outfit so sophisticated she almost seemed like a noble’s daughter. What’s more, there was a bewitching quality to her. Simply put, she looked like a different person altogether.

“Giggir prepared it for me since ‘yesterday’s clothes were too unseemly’ or something like that. I said this stuff doesn’t suit me at all, but he didn’t listen.” She pouted a little. “…So how do you think I look? Is it weird?”

“…It suits you very well.”

Feodor was born into a powerful and wealthy family. Since he’d been often pushed out onto the stage of society, he’d seen his fair share of such outfits. That part of Feodor was saying Yep, this is very nice. This part, and that part too, it’s fresh and nice. Yep, it sure looks good.

“I think it’s the perfect disguise in the sense that it makes you look completely different, yeah.”

“That so? I’ll stick with this then.”

It felt incredibly awkward to have her look directly at him, so Feodor averted his eyes. Seizing the opportunity, he looked around her room. It’s quite the nice room.

It might’ve originally belonged to someone else. The wallpaper was beige and easy on the eyes, and the wooden furniture looked very expensive. There was a large bookcase lined up along the wall, and above the closet in a glass case was a model of the Angevin, a masterpiece of a cruise ship from two generations ago. Looking carefully at it, everything from the arrangement of the heat exhaust vents – the greatest characteristic of the ship – to the paint on its exterior had been reproduced in great detail. Although he was impressed by how meticulously it had been made, he reminded himself that now wasn’t the time to examine it.

Finally, there was only one window high up the wall that provided lighting and ventilation. The walls were well-constructed and probably soundproof as well. Meaning this was a perfect hiding spot.

“Er… is there anything you’re uncomfortable with? Like, maybe the room doesn’t suit you, or there’s not enough meals, anything like that…?”

“That’s not easy to answer, but if nothing else, there’s no shortage of service here. Giggir treats me kindly. It’s a little boring, but there’s no helping that.”

“So…?”

Lakish rubbed her forehead with a finger, looking for the words she wanted. “There’s… something missing, in myself. I tried all sorts of ways to remember it last night, but I can’t remember anything at all. My feelings… no, my instincts maybe…? Geez, my head’s all full of vague stuff…”

Lakish rested a finger on her temple as she searched for the right words to express herself. It was something else that her past self wouldn’t have done, yet strangely suited her present self.

“…It’s like waking up from a long dream, I think? That kinda feeling. Even though I should have things and experiences important to me, I can’t recall any of them. But – it’s weird, but the one thing I do have are the feelings from that dream.”

A shudder ran through Feodor’s heart. If there’s a past this Lakish can remember, that might be the original Lakish’s memories – those of her past life.

“Number one, I’m mad. Incredibly mad. I absolutely cannot forgive the Winged Guard. Even if not forgiving them meant everything would be destroyed, I wouldn’t care.”

“That’s unnerving.”

“Sure is.” She shrugged. Perhaps because of what she was wearing, the movement seemed awfully elegant. “Hey, you knew me before yesterday, yeah? Do you know anything about where this feeling’s coming from?”

Feodor remembered the Lakish Nyx Seniolis he’d known. She hadn’t held any anger towards the Winged Guard. That gentle girl had always been a pillar of forgiveness no matter what.

“…No. I don’t know anything.”

If what Lakish felt now wasn’t in the original Lakish’s memories, that left only one answer. He obviously knew what it was, but Feodor lied.

“I see. Guess there’s no choice but to wait until it comes back to me,” Lakish said bluntly and without emotion. She casually walked up to Feodor, shortening the distance between them. “There’s another feeling I remember,” she remarked more softly, as if she’d just understood something.

While Feodor could never claim to have a large build, he was much taller than the petite Lakish. If it wasn’t for the distance between the two of them, she’d be looking up at his face.

“…Can I touch you?”

“No. Wait, WHY?!” Feodor unconsciously stepped back quickly.

“It’s odd. Rather than my mind, it’s like my body really wants to be closer to you.” The girl lightly rubbed her chest with her fingertips. “Being next to you calms me down. It’s like… it’s more natural for us to be one.”

It sounded like a confession, but there wasn’t anything of the sort in her expression. It was more like her words were nothing more than objective statements; a mystery she couldn’t quite understand.

“Hey, what was our relationship like until yesterday? Was it mutual stimulation?”

Stimulation. What is she, an animal?!

That pure, innocent girl, who used to blush like a tomato at the slightest push and twist everything into a bittersweetly tragic romance, had completely changed her personality.

“…Nope, that’s absolutely wrong. I don’t like markless girls.”

“Oh, really.” Lakish’s smile seemed sad. “I think I get what you mean. Markless are all disappointing, after all. There’s not a single decent person among them.”

Even though she was markless, she said it like she’d heard it from somewhere else.

“…So I’m gonna ask again. Can I touch you?”

“I said no! Why?!”

“I told you already, didn’t I? Being close to you calms me down.”

“No, we need to stop.” Feodor instinctively straightened his face. “You might’ve forgotten, but it’s very important to respect other people’s personal space in life.”

“Quit lecturing me! What, don’t you want to at least give some peace of mind to a poor little girl who’s lost her memory?”

“I wonder if the Lakish I knew was the kind of girl who’d say such bold things!” Feodor scrambled back a healthy distance. He wanted to scream the truth.

No! Those feelings you have aren’t fondness, love or lust, much less trust! You feel calm when I’m near you? You feel like it’s natural for us to be one? That’s just because the power of my Eyes accidentally worked on you last night!

This girl who’d been spellbound by his eyes was now convinced Feodor was a dear friend she could trust. He’d latched on to a shard of her heart, one with no connection at all to her original memories, experiences, personality, or nature. That was the truth behind all the mysteries of the emotions she felt.

It would be easy, so easy, to take advantage of her false affection. Right now, no matter what Feodor asked her to do, she would likely do it without hesitation. Perhaps, long ago, the ancestral Imps had used this power to deceive the Emnetwyte and corrupt them. The key to Lakish’s heart was now entirely in Feodor’s hands.

It’s because it would be so easy, Feodor thought. That’s why I don’t want to do that.

---

“How did you like my selection?”

The expressions of Orcs were, by nature, difficult for other races to understand. However, even though Feodor wasn’t an Orc, he could easily tell what kind of face Giggir was making now. It was the self-satisfied smile unique to someone who’d just finished their greatest work.

“I thought we would need a disguise sooner or later, so I prepared it for her. Behold, my selection. I’m quite proud of the results, if I do say so myself.”

All Feodor could muster was a strangled moan. “I… admit… it suits her,” he forced out, his head lowered. “But wait, doesn’t it stand out too much for a disguise? It’s – well, it’s cute and eye-catching, but doesn’t that flashy outfit have the opposite effect of what we want?”

“Oh, I’ll have different clothes for her when she needs to be out and about. That dress you just saw is my personal preference.”

What the hell’s with that?

“Putting that aside, for an Orc, you know how to dress up a markless girl well.”

“You didn’t know? We’ve always been like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Our roots trace back to the Ogres.”

Ogres were said to be a species born from the Emnetwyte that once flourished on the surface in ancient times. All of them were originally of the Emnetwyte. However, due to wickedness, cruelty, or a curse, their bodies had been completely transformed into those of a different race. They were then, without exception, treated as a monstrous species that bared their fangs at the Emnetwyte who were supposed to have been their kin.

Perhaps due to their origin, the individual races which belonged under the collective classification of ‘Ogres’, such as Imps like Feodor, had appearances very similar to the Emnetwyte… in other words, they were the markless.

“We Orcs may look like this regardless of gender, but I’ll have you know that there were many men in the past who freely married Emnetwyte women of our own accord.” He said it happily, as if boasting about famous relatives. “So even now, there are still those among us who prefer markless girls. Well, it’s not recognized as the refined taste it ought to be, though.”

In other words, it was similar to Feodor’s stance that beastkind women were better. I see, he thought. If that’s how he thinks about it, I almost feel inferior.

“By the way, if there’s a particular outfit you want, I can get it tailored for you.”

“No, that’s fine. You seem to be having a lot of fun.”

“Of course!” Giggir laughed jovially, his belly jiggling. “It’s a rare opportunity for myself, so I want to enjoy it!”

“I think I’m going to leave Lakish with you for a while longer. Is that alright with you?”

“Naturally. I’m glad I can assist you with what little power I have – oh, and as for where we left off in our conversation last night…”

Giggir clapped his hands lightly. A bodyguard silently walked up and presented Feodor with a black leather bag. Without taking it, he started at it inquiringly. “This is…?”

“I’ve obtained a few tools used by expert safecrackers. There are some that I left out because you’d need specialized skills to use them, but if you only wish to break open a wooden box, then this should suffice, yes?”

“…Ah.” Certainly, Feodor had requested that; equipment he could use to drag out the contents of that box with “Dead Black Agate” carved on it. “And I asked for these only yesterday. You got hold of all this quickly, didn’t you?”

“Swift decision-making is a vital weapon in under-the-counter business.”

“You really are reliable, huh?” Extending his hand, Feodor accepted the bag. It was heavy, and he could feel the tools within moving and rubbing against each other. Surprisingly, not a sound leaked out.

Opening the bag, he checked the contents. There was a drill, scissors, a wire saw, a bottle with some strange liquid in it, and various pieces of cloth, along with other items he couldn’t immediately identify.

“Although I didn’t include tools that would be especially difficult to handle, do take care. About, say, ten days of familiarizing yourself with those before using them should do it.”

“Nope.” Feodor shook his head. He knew what Giggir was saying and even agreed that the Orc was correct, but he couldn’t afford to be so relaxed anymore. “All my preparations are done. I’ll put them to use before the day’s out.”

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Next -> Chapter 3 Part 6: Bacon, Salad, and Orange Juice