Those Who Live Without the Law

Chapter 170

Interlude (1)

There was no one who could disturb Kairus during mealtime.

"The food here still tastes just as good."

The only difference was Jonathan, who now stood right beside him with his hands politely clasped and an awkward smile—quite the change from his formerly brusque demeanor.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Using honorifics toward someone he used to speak informally to wasn't something that would bruise Jonathan’s pride. In fact, the very fact that he once had Kairus under him, even for a moment, gleamed like a trophy he could boast about.

"Ahem."

The meal was excellent, but Kairus's physical condition was not. With a slight cough, blood immediately trickled from the corner of his mouth. Even while he was rapidly healing thanks to the procedure of the Featherwing, he was still in this state.

"By the way, you're incredible. I heard you fought all the members of the Operations Committee."

"They weren’t going all out."

Jonathan tried to give Kairus some praise, but Kairus simply shook his head and denied it.

Just look at Lukas.

If he had truly intended to go all in, Lukas would’ve erased his tattoos and charged in.

Donovan had been somewhat passive as well, and the silvery-white swamp created by Barenza Onui probably wasn’t just some tentacle-producing battle gear either.

It was the same with Cecilia.

‘Her real weapon was that aura of hers.’

An overwhelming presence, strong enough to outshine even Dana Watson. It wasn’t about destruction or pressure. Her aura resembled literal death. Even Kairus had momentarily felt like he had died and was moving after death.

If Cecilia had kept up that aura, Kairus certainly wouldn’t have been able to put up a proper fight.

"Then…"

"Still, if it’s a one-on-one, I’m confident I can win. Oh, and please stop speaking so formally. It's giving me goosebumps, boss."

"I—Is that so? Then I’ll stop."

Tapas had gone all out. Even so, Kairus had emerged victorious.

The power Kairus gained from acquiring the Veil of Plumed Mist clearly surpassed the strength of a single Operations Committee member.

‘Barenza Onui and her brother felt more like two people equaling one.’

Jonathan, quietly listening to the conversation, let out a small sigh of admiration. The fact that Kairus had strength left over even after defeating one committee member could mean only one thing.

"It means you’re equal to an entire organization that controls a city single-handedly."

The current Kairus had become someone worthy of the title: one-man army.

"But seriously, what’s up with you suddenly selling kimchi fried rice as a new menu item?"

It felt strange to see food from the Daeyeon Kingdom being served in Bennett City.

"It’s good, isn’t it?"

Previously, he would’ve snapped back with something like, "Then don’t eat it, asshole!" But while they’d dropped formalities, it seemed Jonathan still couldn’t quite relax.

"There are a lot of ships going to and from the Daeyeon Kingdom, so it’s easy to get rice and kimchi. Plus, it's quick to make."

Jonathan, after a brief glance for approval, added those few words like a timid excuse.

"Don’t like it?"

"No, it’s fine."

It was a dish so foolproof that making it taste bad would take more effort. Even someone with zero talent for cooking would have a hard time ruining kimchi fried rice.

Having finished his meal, Kairus leaned back in his chair for a moment before slowly standing up. The meal was over, and though the break hadn’t been long, it had helped him recover a little.

"I’ll drop by again from time to time."

After saying his goodbye, Kairus stood up from his seat. He intended to return to his reclaimed office.

But before that—

"First, I should pick up the one who's waiting for me."

Stepping outside, Kairus lifted himself into the air with the roar of a turbine. Flying at a moderate speed was still within his capability despite his condition.

Rising into the sky, Kairus headed straight for the city where Irena was waiting.

‘Definitely fast.’

He was intentionally limiting his speed due to his condition, but even so, it was several times faster than a train.

Combine that speed with stealth, and you get mobility as a strategic advantage. It was a strength Kairus would be able to put to good use in the future.

After flying for a couple of hours, Kairus arrived at his destination and went straight to the hotel where Irena was staying.

"...You're alive, right? You're not dead and haunting me as a ghost or something?"

After a knock, the door opened a moment later. Irena looked at him with wide eyes and spoke.

"I’m a ghost. I’ve come to take you with me to the afterlife."

"Shit, you’re really alive."

At Kairus's reply, Irena let out a deep, heavy breath. From her perspective, his plan had looked like suicide.

Still, the reason she hadn’t tried to stop him was obvious: she understood that Kairus had nowhere else to go besides Bennett City.

"And you even came back with all your limbs."

She had assumed that even if he survived, he’d at least be missing an arm or a leg.

"Disappointed?"

"Of course not. If you're missing limbs, it’d be harder to teach you."

That was true. He wouldn’t be able to practice demonstrations. Kairus glanced around the room and spoke.

"Any reason you need to stay here longer?"

"Nope. We can leave right away."

"Good."

With that, Kairus handed her the bag he’d brought. Irena stared at it for a moment before raising her head.

"Don’t tell me... again?"

"Why? Would you prefer being tied up with rope again?"

"Asshole. Can’t you think of something different for once?"

"You're flying for free and still complaining."

Grumbling all the while, Irena crawled into the bag. Kairus picked it up and took to the air once more.

"I think this speed is better. Last time was way too fast. This is way more stable."

"You're giving me ride comfort ratings now?"

"Why not? More importantly, spill the story, will you?"

At Irena’s request, Kairus began to explain without resistance. After all, these were things Irena needed to know anyway.

Listening quietly, Irena tilted her head.

"So what happened to that battle gear, Sopor?"

Naturally, Kairus had no way of knowing. It had been impossible for the Operations Committee members to recover it either.

Once Kairus began his escape to Bennett City, all five of them had frantically chased after him.

"Well... maybe someone from the Lantern Gang recovered it?"

It was just speculation. Given the situation at the time, the likelihood of any Lantern Gang members remaining in the area was slim.

Still, if you were only talking pure possibilities, that was the only explanation Kairus could come up with.

However, the one who ended up with Sopor turned out to be someone entirely unexpected.

…

Archaeologist Melvin Istovan stripped off his mud-caked coat and silently stared at the broom he’d brought with him.

‘Kairus’s Red Ticket.’

And then Kairus heading to Bennett City. Streets reduced to rubble, screams, and trembling people full of fear. Amidst it all, Melvin Istovan saw opportunity—and acted.

By then, the story of Kairus attacking Tapas’s base was common knowledge among those in the loop.

‘The fact that the other Operations Committee members chased him to Bennett City—’

That meant Tapas had lost. And in that world, losing meant death.

While everyone else was focused on the fact of Tapas’s defeat, Melvin Istovan had taken it a step further. He had succeeded in spotting a window of opportunity in the chaos.

‘Then what about the battle gear Tapas Aiola was using?’

Kairus, fleeing, and the committee members, in pursuit—none of them would have had time to recover it. Melvin had judged that, and immediately rushed to Tapas’s hideout.

Good judgment and swift action—that’s how people seize opportunity. And Melvin was the one who had seized it this time.

Others only started to think that far later. Specifically, not until after everything had already ended did they begin to consider the fate of Tapas’s battle gear. Too slow.

"This thing…"

Even as someone working as an architectural historian, Melvin had started to feel the need for battle gear. In Bennett City, power was essential for one’s own safety.

At a beginner level, he had somehow managed to reach the point where he could boost the output of standard battle gear and use it.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was anywhere near capable of controlling battle gear with fearsome output like Sopor.

‘But if it’s just the unique ability…’

That much was possible. Handling output and handling a battle gear’s unique power were slightly different disciplines, and Sopor was considered one of the easiest in terms of managing its unique ability. Even Tapas, while high out of his mind on drugs, could still use Sopor’s ability.

"Excuse me. Are you alright?"

In the basement of a building, Melvin tapped the cheek of the person he had tied up. The man had his limbs bound with chains, and a mouth opener forced between his jaws.

“Are you still not in your right mind? I’ll help you a little.”

Saying that, Melvin brought an alcohol lamp up to the palm of the man who was hanging his head low.

“Ghk… Aaaaaaah!”

The flame from the alcohol lamp seared the man’s hand, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Unable to endure the pain, the man screamed as tears streamed down his face.

“When someone talks to you, you should at least pretend to listen.”

The man wasn’t here because he’d done something wrong. Melvin simply wanted to test his newly acquired toy, and the man had just happened to pass near Melvin’s house.

That trivial coincidence had now intertwined like this, forcing pain and terror onto the man.

Flash! The lights burst. It was the light from Melvin’s camera. The man, whose palm had been burned beyond recognition and turned black like charcoal, stared blankly at him.

‘Did he just take a photo?’

Before he could even resolve that question, drowsiness washed over the captive man. It was an overwhelming, irresistible wave of sleep, strong enough to make him forget even his scorched hand.

“Sleep, huh. I see.”

Melvin put on his glasses and began writing something down in his notebook. The ability to put someone to sleep was, of course, a useful power. Tapas had also made good use of Sopor’s power.

But she had been a warrior who wielded a sword. Because of that, she couldn’t think the way Melvin did, someone who had learned and heard so much.

“If controlled properly.”

It would be possible to plunge a chosen target into a state known as induced sleep or trance.

When Kairus had faced Tapas, he had fallen into a trance while forcibly resisting the drowsiness. But if Sopor’s ability were used repeatedly and the user became accustomed to it, it would be possible to deliberately guide a target into a trance state.

And one of the things that could be attempted on someone who had fallen into a trance was—

“Hypnosis.”

Melvin focused on that possibility. If it was truly possible, he could engrave loyalty into a person’s subconscious.

He could turn them into a tool that would never resist any command, and never betray its master.

“I’ll need… some related books.”

Melvin wasn’t an expert in the field. At best, his knowledge amounted to things he had picked up from reading countless books as a scholar.

But if the possibility Melvin had discovered could be proven feasible in reality through experimentation and theory—

“Then what couldn’t I do? Even that bastard Kairus climbed up there without issue.”

There was no reason Melvin couldn’t stand shoulder to shoulder with Kairus where he sat.

“Honestly!”

Suddenly, Melvin waved his hand wildly at the wall and shouted.

“I’m the one who got my hands on the Pathfinder’s battle gear! Doesn’t that mean I’m even more qualified?!”

His shout of “Answer me!” echoed off the walls.

“‘Pathfinder’ is a tacky title. Hmm, it doesn’t suit me either.”

A museum. Melvin had always wanted a museum. He wanted to preserve precious items that allowed conversation with the past beyond the wall of time, through proper and perfect management.

It was similar to why he liked photography. It was a medium that recorded the past.

“Museum director. Yes, museum director sounds good. And I’ll call the members curators. Heh heh heh heh.”

Murmuring like that, Melvin gently stroked Sopor, the fragment of his dream that he had seized.

“This is mine now.”