Chapter 47
Chapter 47
It Means I Was Deceived
***
It wasn’t because they were morally superior that they put up such a slogan. Rather, it was closer to a custom that had naturally taken shape, given the sheer scale of the businesses and personnel they managed internally.
What they aimed for was a perfectly corporate-style organization—that was the Mafia.
If anything, it was more like a declaration of intent that they would refrain from unnecessary disputes.
“They must have gone independent. Something like this wouldn’t be permitted within the organization.”
“And the Mafia just stood by while one of their own arms was cut off?”
“Perhaps a force on par with them stepped in.”
“What a load of bullshit.”
Regardless of my irritation, I couldn’t deny that the outline of the incident was gradually becoming clearer. We had reached the point of suspecting that a capable ripperdoc had gone rogue, set up his own shop, and conducted business targeting trainees.
And as a bonus, some unidentified force had gotten involved.
One question remained—why attempt brainwashing?
Between all the tedious steps, only the objective was missing.
A few possibilities came to mind right away, but it would be unwise to make any assertions before confronting the force that had backed the ripperdoc.
I wanted to hear the details from Catalina Lowen, but unfortunately, she was unconscious and in recovery.
“Will you wait until she wakes up?”
“When will that be?”
“At this rate, she’ll wake up around Nesol.”
“It’ll be too late by then.”
They were the kind who had already disposed of Abigail Connor once before. If they thought their trail had been exposed, they wouldn’t hesitate to make an extreme choice.
Fortunately, there was one more person I could ask.
Handel Bison.
The idol who had won Mystic Hundred.
With so much to lose, I had no doubt she would personally cooperate.
***
They said the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.
For Yukihana Sakuya, the past few sols had been nothing short of hell.
The song she had sung in the final round was undoubtedly the best card she could possibly have played. She had performed it so flawlessly that she wondered if she had ever done anything that perfectly before.
But reality was nothing if not cruel.
Seventh place.
The public trusted a machine’s sensibility more than human emotion. Her past self, who had confidently believed in her victory, now felt almost laughable.
Regrettably, time did not wait for Sakuya.
With Mystic Hundred over, the debut of the final six selected members was already just around the corner.
The group name had yet to be decided; they were recruiting suggestions online.
Perhaps that was why.
Even though the program had ended, the fervor had yet to cool. It was clear that they were already under the management of the megacorp Marstop.
It was time to admit it.
Her desire to present her songs to the public had been excessive greed.
It had been a fantasy she should never have harbored in the first place.
Effort alone was not enough.
Didn’t the results speak for themselves?
In the end, this must have been her fate.
The one who failed to become an idol was her, and the one who succeeded was Handel.
In any case, what people looked at was the result, not the journey contained within it.
For some reason, she began to feel foolish for stubbornly insisting on staying natural.
If it was going to turn out like this, she wouldn’t have regretted getting at least one Slot implanted.
It was then that the door opened with a clack.
Sakuya quickly wiped the gloom from her face. She didn’t want to show weakness, especially not to the person who had just walked in.
“Handel.”
“A fitting end for you. I told you—you should’ve handled yourself better. Who knows? Maybe someone who recognized your worth might’ve sponsored you.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“You’re not going to give up just like this, are you?”
Never did she expect to hear such words from Handel, and Sakuya’s voice rose without her realizing it.
“Then what?”
“You may have been eliminated from Mystic Hundred, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be eliminated everywhere else.”
She had just finished speaking with her manager. If another audition program came up, she would participate.
“But if you don’t change, you’ll remain a trainee forever. You know that now, don’t you? Why you had no choice but to be eliminated. What you’re lacking.”
That, too, had been one of the criticisms she received.
Feeling somehow stripped bare, Sakuya took a step back—but the distance between them didn’t widen.
If anything, it narrowed.
“Don’t you want to get a cybernetics surgery?”
At the warmth brushing past her ear, Sakuya swallowed dryly.
“It’s not something I can just get because I want it.”
“That’s right. From the company’s perspective, you’re now a used rookie with no investment value. But shift your gaze. If you want to try, I’ll be that opportunity for you.”
“Why are you making me this offer?”
“The more ugly ducklings there are, the brighter I shine. But if you give up here, you won’t even be counted.”
Handel extended her hand.
As if bewitched by something, Sakuya took it and let out a sigh of relief.
At that innocent, guileless expression, Handel smiled faintly.
Since she was young, she had been known as an ugly duckling. Someone everyone avoided and ignored without exception.
That was why she wanted to become an idol that no one could help but admire.
And someday, she dreamed of letting those who had passed her by without seeing her true self know.
That she could do this much.
That they could never.
That was why she introduced trainees to an unlicensed clinic and desperately replaced multiple Slots.
To discard her past self as quickly as possible.
And the constant picking at Sakuya, whom she met during that process, had stemmed from her own inferiority complex. Despite being natural, Sakuya was as beautiful as if she had undergone genetic modification, and even without any significant Slots, she had competed on equal footing with the other trainees.
To Handel, it had been nothing less than an unbearable humiliation.
That radiant talent,
that blossoming beauty.
But now, their positions had reversed.
It took only a moment for a halfwit who could do nothing but cling to propriety to fall into the role of the ugly one.
Victory belonged to those who endured and waited.
***
Judging from what Catalina Lowen had said, Handel must have been receiving illegal Slot implants for quite some time. Given the number of contacts she had, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she had been exposed to the greatest risk.
Moreover, she had recently become the winner of Mystic Hundred. There was no way the force backing the ripperdoc wouldn’t have set their sights on her.
One way or another, she had to be at the center of this case.
Even if she herself didn’t remember it.
Once I secured Handel, it would be obvious as daylight that I could grab the tail of the ones who had disposed of Abigail Connor.
But Handel’s whereabouts were frustratingly unclear. Just a few sols ago, she had been no different from any other trainee. Then she appeared on a hit program, and her status skyrocketed.
She had moved out of the dorms and gone independent, and even her comings and goings were thoroughly controlled.
There was only so much an outsider could find out.
Right. An outsider.
In other words, with an insider’s help, things would become much easier.
As it happened, I knew someone who stuck close to Handel.
Holdem Bruce.
Abigail’s former manager and Handel’s current one.
If he was as diligent as I remembered, he would have her schedule memorized.
It wasn’t difficult to predict Holdem’s range of movement. I had followed him around for a while, after all.
At this hour, he would be having a drink. In other words, unless he had gone elsewhere, he would be at home.
Sure enough, light leaked through the curtains.
Without hesitation, I pressed the doorbell and knocked.
“Public Enforcement Corps. Is Miss Handel currently—”
Before I could even finish the excuse I had carefully prepared, Holdem shoved his face out.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It means you’ve been deceived. If something had really happened, they would’ve contacted the company directly. Why come to the manager?”
“You…!”
Realizing the situation, Holdem widened his eyes and tried to throw a punch first. I lightly stepped behind him and twisted his arm.
“Ugh.”
“Where’s Handel?”
“If you’re looking for her, you’ve got the wrong address. Just wait. I’ll report this and make sure you can’t even show your face around here.”
Since Handel’s success, the number of people seeking her out had increased dramatically. Major corporations needing publicity, politicians, all kinds of production companies.
Of course, it hadn’t brought only positive effects.
There were also uninvited guests who showed up out of nowhere like this.
“Come to think of it, I never introduced myself. I’m a fixer hired to dig into the unfortunate incident that happened to Abigail Connor.”
“Abigail? Ha, that’s ridiculous. Who would hire anyone? I suppose you didn’t know she had no family?”
It seemed that Producer Raju had kept his engagement to Abigail Connor hidden even from his colleagues.
It was a devastating piece of information for me, but I hadn’t come here to persuade him in the first place.
“Cut the crap and start talking. Unless you want the whole world to see the collection in your room.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really? If Public Enforcement Corps shows up right now, your room is the first place I’m tearing apart.”
Before being a manager, Holdem Bruce was a fanatic—an obsessive fan who reveled in collecting idol merchandise.
And a cat like him wouldn’t just walk past a fish laid out in front of him.
“I hear you’ve been gathering props that Handel used or touched. I imagine you did the same with Abigail’s things, didn’t you?”
“How did you…?”
“No matter how badly you want to hide something, it always comes out eventually, my friend.”
Of course, the reason I hadn’t reported him earlier was because my own hands weren’t exactly clean. Everything I knew had come from tailing him—who could I complain to?
Still, being able to make use of it like this meant my past investigation hadn’t been in vain.
The way Holdem’s head sagged halfway proved that.
“A disappearance on paper, sure—but deep down, you’ve suspected Abigail is dead, haven’t you? For the sake of her lingering resentment, why not cooperate?”
“And why does that have anything to do with digging into Handel’s affairs?”
“Things are moving too fast for leisurely explanations. Just once—that’s all I need. If it really bothers you, report everything to the company when the sun rises on Nesol. If anything happens to her, I’ll be the prime suspect anyway.”
Hesitation was written all over his face.
Was he torn between professional ethics and personal desire?
“If it’s Handel you’re after, she went to a club to clear her head…”
“A club? If the company finds out an idol went clubbing, all hell will break loose.”
Judging by his reluctance, there seemed to be another reason he hadn’t mentioned it sooner.
***
Dense neon lights and bass-heavy beats that pounded against the chest.
What filled the cavernous open space was pure excess. The night at Rolling Star, a club in District 39, was primal in every sense.
There was a man whose face had been carved open to embed mechanical devices, and a woman who had her limbs severed and replaced with steel.
The kinds of people one might occasionally glimpse in the entertainment districts were, in this place, overwhelmingly abundant.
It was hard to believe they had all been living in the same city.
Unable to grow accustomed to the oppressive atmosphere, Yukihana Sakuya clutched at Handel Bison’s sleeve.
“What if someone recognizes you? Why would you come to a place like this?”
“Here? Relax. These people wouldn’t notice even if someone started spraying bullets.”
The claim didn’t seem entirely false. The man who had just bumped shoulders with Sakuya passed without so much as a glance.
“Where exactly is this clinic supposed to be?”
“Follow me.”