Published at 4th of December 2019 10:40 am

Volume 2, Part V: Spiral Paradox - V

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The morning of November 10 comes, and still no sign of Shiki coming back to her room.

She has a habit of not locking her door when she goes out, but lately she’s actually been locking it like she’s supposed to, which is why I can’t even get myself inside and I have to be content to sit out here in the hallway like this for hours waiting for her.

As a matter of fact, it was only a short time ago that me and Akitaka waited out here together for her before Akitaka concluded that it was in vain and he entrusted that object in the bag to me. I’ve known her to let her evening strolls last until the break of dawn, so this isn’t exactly a new thing for her. But ever since she left the office yesterday, something seemed a bit strange about her.

It’s because of that worry that I’m willing to wait for her until morning, but even when the sun begins to shift the sky into the dawning blue, she is yet to come home.

In the time I wait for Shiki to come home, the city had taken on the appearance of its morning palette. The weather, however, seems content to return to the cloudy gray I thought it had thrown off yesterday. Not letting my worry eat away at me too much, I put it out of my mind as I head to the office.

By the time I get there, it’s just past eight o’ clock. I hold the little hope that Shiki might have just gone straight to work, but having been greeted by the sight of Miss Tōko sitting behind her desk alone with no one else in sight, even that hope is dashed.

I quickly greet Miss Tōko when I come in, sit down behind my desk, and continue working on whatever I was working on yesterday. My mind wasn’t really into the work, and yet I still move like a machine, probably because I do almost the same thing every day. Such, I suppose, is the power of routine that it conquers even the possible work deficiency resulting from a worried mind such as mine.

“Kokutō, about the data you gave me yesterday…” I hear Miss Tōko say from her desk in front of the window.

“Right,” I reply languidly.

“It’s about that high rise and its residents. You remember you were kind of miffed after only digging up stuff on thirty of the total fifty resident families, but that actually wraps it up. The remaining records don’t exist in the first place. That’s the reason you were only able to get their names and family trees, because those twenty families are pure fiction. I looked into it on my own time, but after thoroughly looking at what data I could recover four times over, I gave it up. They just reused the records of people and families that’ve been six feet under for years.”

“Right,” I repeat.

“And all of them are in the east building too. I don’t know what’s going...” she cuts herself off mid-sentence, suddenly frowning in annoyance as if ants are blazing a trail all over her skin. She only whispers one thing that brings me back to reality.

“Someone’s coming.”

She hastily pulls out something from a desk drawer that looks about the size of a ring that looks like it’s made out of grass, and then throws it towards my direction.

“Keep holding that and stick to the wall,” she explains, wearing the furrowed brow that always denoted her worry. “Don’t wear it. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t bump on anything. And not so much as a peep out of you. If you do it right, our uninvited guest will leave without even noticing you.”

The tension that her words create makes me refrain from asking any questions, and caught up with the abruptness of the entire thing, I just end up following what she said. The ring doesn’t look like it’s been made particularly skillfully, but nevertheless I grasp it in my palm as hard as I can, as if this would artificially enhance whatever effect it’s supposed to bestow. I position myself on the wall behind the couch that Shiki often lies down on, and wait.

It doesn’t take long for both of us to hear the distinct sound of footsteps. Climbing up the staircase of this unfinished building is an individual with an exaggerated cadence to his step—perhaps intentionally so. The steps don’t stop, but instead heads straight toward this office, and soon the individual in question steps through the entrance: a man clad in red.

The man’s strikingly blonde hair and blue eyes immediately mark him as not native, and his sharp and well-defined features even less so. His movements are a showman’s: refined, practiced, and well-moderated amounts of the theatrical. I place his age at about the early twenties, and his nationality is obviously European, probably German. The red coat that adorns him only completes the image of him having stepped out of some Victorian era illustration. As soon as he enters, he raises a hand toward Miss Tōko in greeting.

“A fine morning to you, Aozaki! It’s been too long. How have you been, my dear?” His ostentatious manner carries over even to his voice, which goes up and down in points he deems dramatic. The smile that he directs to Miss Tōko is one filled with familiarity, but I can’t see him as anything but serpentine in his actions. The man stops his pace directly before Miss Tōko’s desk. Seated behind her desk, she offers a cold glance at the man.

“Cornelius Alba. What is the successor of the Sponheim Abbey doing so far from home, I wonder?”

“Why, I would have imagined that to be obvious! To see you, of course! You were so helpful in our time together in London that I thought it was only fair to give you a warning. Or could it be that you find my kindness actually bothersome?” He spreads his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and smiles. The flamboyance of his princely conduct contrasts quite sharply with Miss Tōko, who continues to generate an atmosphere of barely concealed hostility. And yet, the man laughs right in front of her before he goes on with his explanation.

“And besides, why not stay? After all, Japan is such a wonderful country. It’s modern yet has that isolated ‘Macondo’ feeling, precisely why the Ordo Magi tends to overlook it. They even have their own dynasties, and their own quaint traditions of the Art, like that Onmyōdō stuff, which I can’t really tell apart from Shintō, but whatever. The splendid thing about this Japanese lot is how they don’t intrude on your personal space, quite unlike the nosiness of the Ordo. When something disagreeable is happening, they don’t move to nip it in the bud, but instead clean up afterwards, like janitors. All the Japanese are the same way. Oh, but don’t misunderstand, I like that about them. It’s a situation so opposite from where I come from, and perfect for the apostates who have severed relations with the Ordo, of which I am a part of anyway, so perhaps this business is none of mine.” He laughs to bookend his elucidation, which is quickly becoming annoying.

Still, I guess what Miss Tōko said is true. He doesn’t seem to be looking anywhere near my direction, nor noticing me in particular. Giving an angled glance at the young man who shot words out rapid-fire, Miss Tōko finally speaks.

“If idle chatter is your objective here, then you can go out the same way you came in. You trespass on my sanctum, and I could kill you where you stand and no one would object.”

“Ah, but you do not remember that you transgressed first by entering my sanctum, so my case against you has greater merit. You were in the company of someone else at the time, and I did not know whether he was of our traditions or not, so I held off on greeting you as a proper host would.”

“So I was right about that high rise apartment building. If it was you who weaved the Art into that amateurish ward, then you might want to adjust your self-esteem…downwards.” Miss Tōko allows herself the subtlest smile, but the blonde-haired man does not take it humorously at all.

“Can you not see its genius? We craft our sanctums and our chantries as a space separate from the consensus, and our wards serve the purpose of keeping the stupid masses of humanity out, further estranging us and our practices. You reinforce the ward further and further, build your walls higher, and eventually the Ordo is wise to you. Either way, someone will catch on, mage or no. But that apartment building is none of these things. Its nature is covert, our own little world where we can conduct our studies in peace, far from the worries of the consensus or the Ordo. And to my knowledge, only one man can do it, with a method far from the crude weavings of neophytes and pretenders.”

“Oh, so you’re here for praise? For accolades? To prove that you’ve caught up to me and him?” Miss Tōko asks. “Well, if you want someone to vindicate your scholarly efforts, then I’ll indulge you. Congratulations, Cornelius Alba.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

“Don’t you dare dismiss me so easily, Aozaki. Alaya doesn’t even factor into my scale anymore. He has me to thank for the puppets in that building and the brains that I keep alive and well-functioning. Without me, he is nothing.” By now the man’s expression had converted into a parody of its former mirth, and the youthfulness he radiated when he walked through the door is all but gone, replaced by a menacing scowl.

“Goodness, how our little boy has grown. Don’t kid yourself, Alba. Both of us are apostates to the Ordo, and our neophyte days are over. What are you really here for? If you’re just going to brag about your research then you can just throw it to the rabid fanclub you must surely have in excess.” “You never change, do you? Then let us dispense with conversation for now. Your sanctum is far too dull and droll for me. In time, you’ll find yourself back in that building, and perhaps there we can carry on a proper chat, in a more refined environment.” He pauses, both of them eyeing each other, before he says, “Aozaki, the Taijitu is ours.”

Miss Tōko’s eyes twitch for a moment upon hearing the peculiar word. “Containing a Taijitu within itself? Do you really want to reach the spiral of origin so badly? You are complete fools if you think of yourselves as higher than other mages and can beat even the reach of the Deterrent.”

“As I have said, there will be no interference from the Deterrent, or from the consensus from which its authority stems. This is not a new method we created, but just an old trick we never realized before. Still, we will be sure to watch our step. Don’t worry. Your Ryōgi will receive the utmost care and attention.”

“What the hell have you done with Shiki?!” I suddenly find myself shouting, unable to contain myself as soon as I hear the name. Both of them turn to look at me at the same time, Miss Tōko’s face a picture of disappointment at my idiocy. The man in the red coat looks at me almost in disbelief. Ah, well, there’ll be plenty of time for berating myself later. After recovering from the apparent surprise, he smiles his widest smile yet.

“You must be the boy from yesterday, tagging along with Aozaki here.” He turns back to Miss Tōko. “I had known you to be the kind not to take apprentices, but ah, here we have the proof to the contrary, don’t we? Splendid! Simply splendid! Certainly one more thing to be happy about!” With his arms gestured outwards like an opera singer, and the random shifts of his sing-song voice, I can’t rightly think of him as anything but the most peculiar man.

“I suppose it would be pointless for me to say at this point that he’s not my apprentice?” Miss Tōko sighs, frustrated and with fingers brushing her forehead. “Now, if that’s all, then I thank you for sharing the information. I know the face rubbing simply must be done for your sake. But haven’t you thought I could report this to the Ordo?”

“The bureaucracy of that organization works against itself. All the practical preparations they would have to do to get the permission of so and so will take six days at least, and another two to coordinate with the local chapters to even get so much as a pair of feet over here. Much, much slower than the Biblical God and his act of genesis, and so much one can do in such a span!” As an exclamation mark to his proclamation, he laughs so hard he bends over, unable to contain himself, making me feel uneasy. As he tires of it, he turns his back on us, the only trace of that laugh being the smile that bends the corners of his mouth. “Well then, I shall see you again soon, I hope. I know you have your own preparations to arm, but I will look forward to our next meeting.”

The man then leaves, red coat flapping about from his boisterous movements, leaving us with the cheerful disposition on his face before he is out the door and disappears from view.

“Ma’am, explain to me what the hell just happened?”

Miss Tōko’s tension was gone the minute that man was out the door, and she returns to her customary laid back look. She even returns to her customary laid back answers. “Nothing. Just telling us a friendly neighborhood warning that they’ve captured Shiki, is all.” I’m at a loss at what to say to her, except ask her the question whose answer I think I can surmise from Miss Tōko and the red coated man’s conversation.

“Where?”

“Ōgawa Apartments, somewhere on the top floor most likely. If I follow the logic of their crazy rituals, then Shiki, as the yin, has to be in the west building.” From her breast pocket she produces a cigarette, which she then lights and takes a puff of as she stares lazily at the ceiling in seeming relief. Unfortunately, I’m not as keenly optimistic as she is. I can’t bring myself to believe the man in the coat when he said that Shiki is unharmed, but I can’t just sit here and not make sure if it’s true or not either. I head for the door with a quickened pace until Miss Tōko shouts,

“Don’t.”

I turn back to her. “Look, ma’am, I know it’s your policy not to get involved without money on the table, but—”

“Oh, simmer down for a moment, would you?” she scolds, not really with displeasure so much as exasperation. “As a matter of fact, I do know who Shiki is, alright? I’ve had a feeling this day would come when I first met her in the hospital. This is just fate collecting on the debt I owe it that day. Kokutō, you don’t go into a mage’s chantry without a plan on how to fight him. Even Alba had to get past some nasty setups to even get up here, and you’ll have to do the same, except without the benefit of seeing them. Walk in there thinking you can wing it, and I can guarantee that you will come out in a form unrecognizable to most people before you’re even ten meters past the entrance.”

When she explains that, the gravity of the implication that the weirdo in the red coat is just like Miss Tōko, with just as much hidden potential for manipulating reality in creative ways, finally begins to set in.

“But what about yesterday? We were fine then, weren’t we?” “Because they thought you were just some regular guy. Didn’t I tell you before? Mages don’t use the Art on normal people unless they’re backed into a corner. You goof off, weave your spell like an amateur, and it’s more trouble for them than they probably know how to deal with. Make no mistake; Alba wants you dead as much as he does me.”

“That’s true,” I say, thinking it over better now that I’m calmed down. “I suppose they could even just mess with my brain, or some other horrible stuff.”

“Yes,” she nods, “and no. Messing with a brain is easy enough to do for a lot of mages who specialize in it. But it’s far from being in common use. The old “he’s crazy because fairies messed his shit up” excuse tends to not work anymore, since people tend to have social groups—family, friends, the social niche he belongs to—that investigates, traces it back somewhere. The more you conceal it with the Art, the more you draw attention to some weird shit going down in your general area, and you risk discovery each time. And besides, a spell isn’t permanent. It’s a constant fight between the spell you weave, and the will of the affected mind. Sometimes, their mind wins, and the person gets their memories back, and that’s bad luck for you.”

She crushes the cigarette on the ashtray and leaves it there. She’s right, I realize it now. Things without explanation demand it, and the people will look for it, because those things are distinct only in that an explanation for them doesn’t exist. And if that blonde guy just started killing people it would just bring more eyes than anything. Add that to this new Internet thing going around, and it’s becoming easier and easier to track a person down, trace where he went. Which will lead them to the apartment building. Hence, its unassuming build, designed to make people feel as normal inside as they possibly can. Judging by his and Miss Tōko’s conversation, that Alba character can’t be up to any good in there, and yet he wouldn’t have touched the incident with the burglar or the dying woman who wandered into the building with a ten-foot pole, since to him, the police coming, checking things out, and finding nothing weird is better than them launching a full-on investigation.

“And so that’s where we stand,” Miss Tōko mentions with a sigh. “Notice, Kokutō, how Alba said that his ward was flawless. And yet fate gives us not one, but two incidents that put the high rise on our suspicion radar, and now Shiki’s gone and disappeared there as well. If there’s a lesson here, it’s that reality will always abhor a paradox, no matter how well disguised.”

“Is that what both of you called that ‘Deterrent’ a while earlier?” Upon the mention of the strange word, Miss Tōko adopts an almost disgusted look as she nods in agreement.

“Perhaps. It’s only a theory, a metaphysical rule of the universe. It’s the ‘consensus’ I always talk about, humanity’s greatest ally, and a mage’s most constant enemy. We have no ill will towards people, and only want to live in peace. Unfortunately, reality feels the same way. The combined will of all the people form into a consensual paradigm which tends to restore reality to a stable state, to combat things that logically shouldn’t exist… like the Art and mages. Sometimes, when the consensus is so focused, it coalesces, and becomes a literal manifestation. It can cast its hands into fate to move otherwise normal people in positions that would topple great men. Humanity’s swirling consensus itself is its unseen protector, and the people it channels its will into were the ones we called heroes, though it’s not so easy to have the same result now in the plurality of our world and the ease with which we can fuck ourselves over without knowing it. The Deterrent influences people all the time, saving us without us knowing it. But don’t mistake it as having any empathy for humans. It’s only loyalty is to the consensus, and it doesn’t take into account something like human happiness, where there seems to be no consensus at all. We can only be sure about two things: it is humanity’s representative will, and it will eliminate the paradoxes of the world, the mages and their experiments with the illogical Art.”

Respect and loathing permeates Miss Tōko’s speech at the same time, as though she can’t quite decide how to deal with this “Deterrent” business. Her story reminds me of many things, of many philosophers all speaking about something similar; and another story of a certain peasant woman of Orleans, driven to action by a force she said was God. Perhaps this Deterrent was what truly moved her?

“Well, that certainly clarifies that, ma’am. So I suppose Shiki is a part of a similar experiment, right?” I know where she’s going with this, as I’ve learned long before that she says nothing that is without meaning, even if might only be revealed sometimes much later. So I gathered from her conversation with Alba that this experiment—or whatever it is—is the reason behind Shiki’s disappearance.

She smothers her cigarette after one last drag then turns to look at me, smiling contentedly at something beyond what I can grasp. “I don’t know what Alba is planning with Shiki exactly. I just know that he plans to reach the spiral of origin. At some point, they’ll have to use her body, but Alba’s wasn’t one for that sort of disgusting work back then, and like everything about him, it probably hasn’t changed. He’ll think it through until the last minute. Assuming they captured Shiki safely, she’s probably still alive.”

“She is,” I say firmly. “I mean, that’s the only thing he could’ve meant when he said he’d take care of her, right?” I realize I have my eyes set solidly on Miss Tōko, which she might have mistaken for an accusatory look. The truth is that I can’t get the little fear of Shiki being killed out of my head. “Which is why we need to move now.”

But how, I ask myself. I could call the police on the guy, but from experience with Miss Tōko, I’m sure a mage must always have some sort of escape plan when they need it in short notice. And so it boils down to two things: eliminate Alba, or get in and sneak Shiki out of there. I suppose, if I’m honest with myself, I’d have to say it boils down to one. I move to search for the blueprints of the building among Miss Tōko’s scattered documents. Maybe I can find a way in that even he doesn’t know about.

“Stop. Stop, stop, stop,” Miss Tōko says with audible frustration as she waves her arms to get my attention. “Is your head really so thick that everything I’ve said just passed through your skull? There is absolutely no way you’re getting in there. Just like when Shiki just woke up from the coma, this isn’t your cue to dance. After all, a mage should face a mage. It’s only proper.” Upon saying that, she stands up abruptly, and puts on her brown trench coat, leather make and thick enough to probably receive glancing blows from a knife. “You got one thing right, though. No use in drawing this out too long. I’ll set out tonight. Kokutō, if you’ll be so kind as to get the orange briefcase in my closet.”

There is a hint of resignation in her voice, and driven by that, I head to her room and open the closet. Inside, the clothes you would expect to be present are instead replaced by bags and the desired orange briefcase, all of them looking like they’re quite full for a long trip. When I carry the briefcase by the hand, I discover just how heavy it is. Despite the copious amount of stickers stuck to it, it retains its well-made appearance. When I return and hand it over to her, she retrieves the cigarette box from her breast pocket and hands it to me.

“Keep it for me. They’re cigarettes from Taiwan and they fucking suck, but there’s only one box of them, made by some weirdo. It’s probably my second favorite thing in the world.” She turns her back on me to leave.

“Is your most favorite thing yourself?” I ask.

“Good guess,” she says, laughing, “but even I wouldn’t place a person in the level of objects.” Before she’s out of the door, she speaks her piece one more time. “Kokutō, mages are kind to their friends. They’re the only thing they have in a world against them. So do me a favor: stay out of trouble, and just stay here, alright? I’ll bring Shiki back tonight.”

And with that, the brown-coated mage opens the door and departs, with me not even saying a goodbye even as I hear the rare sound of her shoes echoing upon the staircase.

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