While Jin Crow remained unconscious, the interests of every nation became hopelessly entangled.
No, was that all?
In truth, Mercato itself was currently so overwhelmed by confusion and turmoil that Jin Crow had no reason to worry about rumors or gossip.
“The Red Hand was involved. That is an undeniable fact.”
“Stero Mer? ...As a human being, he certainly wasn't someone I'd describe positively. How should I put it... He was arrogant and utterly convinced of his own righteousness.”
“I'm nothing more than a mid-level distribution manager. I had nothing to do with this incident.”
Immediately after driving the Creatures out of the major districts, the very first thing both the Empire and the Human Composite State did was relentlessly track down everyone associated with Mer Corporation and Black Mer for interrogation.
Generally, they fell into two categories.
If they were office workers or deemed to have little connection to the matter, they underwent a simple investigation before being released.
But Stero Mer's close associates and Black Mer's Superhumans were another story.
“...The Chairman was insane. None of his close associates failed to realize that. Why didn't I resist? Why would I?”
“As long as they paid well, that was enough. Nothing more.”
“There wasn't a better paradise for a deserter than this. Damn it all...”
Not only were they subjected to thorough interrogations, but depending on the circumstances, violence and threats were also employed.
To an ordinary person, it might seem unnecessary.
But that was only from an ordinary person's perspective.
The level of pain a Superhuman's body could endure far exceeded imagination.
If an ordinary person were stabbed in the abdomen, they would struggle to breathe, their vision would blur, and the overwhelming pain would reduce them to tears.
Superhumans, on the other hand, simply pulled the knife out themselves and compressed the wound with a bandage to stop the bleeding.
Common sense dictated that removing an embedded blade was dangerous.
But so what?
Psionic energy both prevented secondary injuries and accelerated healing.
In other words, if someone wanted to extract a satisfactory answer from a Superhuman, torture was little more than an ordinary icebreaker.
Of course, that wasn't the only reason.
The soldiers of both the Empire and the Human Composite State were under immense pressure themselves.
‘We need solid evidence.’
‘Only then can we tighten the leash around the Free Planet Alliance even further.’
It was politics.
But it was also survival.
Naturally, the soldiers stationed nearby bore no responsibility for what had happened.
On the contrary, the moment they realized disaster had struck, they had immediately rushed in to rescue their own citizens.
The real issue was the overwhelming level of public attention.
—Imperial casualties: approximately 200 million.
—Human Composite State casualties: approximately 700 million.
Someone's tragedy often became someone else's political weapon.
The actual truth hardly mattered.
If something emerged that could be used to attack the opposing side, politicians, the media, and people alike would simply exploit it.
“How truly regrettable. To think that the proud citizens of our glorious Empire met such miserable deaths upon that wretched land. A truly lamentable affair.”
“Isn't all of this simply the result of the Imperial Army's incompetence? Granted, the Holy Imperial Guard Knights have always been devoted solely to protecting the Imperial Family...”
Within the Holy Galactic Empire, the incident became excellent justification for the Imperial Parliament's Noble Faction to pressure both the Royalist Faction and the Imperial Army.
「[Current Affairs] Humanity Betrayed Once Again... Are We Alone in This Vast Galaxy?」
「99 Reasons Why the Only Good Elf Is a Dead Elf」
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「[Health] Shocking Study Reveals a 97.8% Chance of Dying Within 100 Years After Encountering an Elf...」
Meanwhile, within the Human Composite State, it became perfect propaganda for encouraging anti–non-human sentiment while promoting slogans such as “Humanity Is Great” and militarism.
Of course, that wasn't all.
Contrary to what ordinary people believed, the incident was entangled in far more complex political, economic, and military issues.
“So this will be the first time since the last great war that all three nations sit at the negotiating table.”
“Three nations, you say. Does the Free Planet Alliance truly possess the strength for that?”
“They have the Geum Young Group and the Genorua Family. Cunningly enough, while we were struggling to finish the initial recovery efforts, they consolidated the Council and reorganized the shares of Mer Corporation, the Interstellar Transport Union, and Carpe Diem Entertainment.”
“Tsk. I can't say that sits well with me.”
“Well, that's how those vulgar capitalists are. Living side by side with such lowly non-human races is proof enough that they've abandoned humanity's inherent purity.”
Just as revealed years later when the Human Composite State diplomats' wiretapped conversation was leaked to the press, Geum Kang-hyeok and Tita Genorua had been moving frantically behind the scenes.
Mer Corporation.
Interstellar Transport Union (ITU).
Carpe Diem Entertainment.
To seize control of those interests, they had moved even faster than either the Empire or the Human Composite State, kidnapping, persuading, and confining shareholders while repeatedly restructuring ownership.
Furthermore, they filled the vacant seats on the Council with their own people, formally establishing a two-person dictatorship.
As a result, contrary to what the other nations had expected, the Free Planet Alliance was able to appear at the negotiating table with its administrative functions restored—albeit under the title of a temporary government.
Of course, this matter wouldn't be settled so easily.
‘Anyone who let an opportunity like this slip away would be a fool. The Empire and the Human Composite State alike.’
After all, it had become increasingly clear that this wasn't merely a Creature attack.
It had been a man-made disaster orchestrated through the alliance between the Red Hand and Stero Mer.
Thinking that far, Jin Crow set down the book he had been reading in the hospital room while Ner had temporarily left for another examination.
Then he took out a black cigarette and placed it between his lips.
Click.
The wavering flame from the old-fashioned lighter illuminated the corner of his mouth as he sat beside the window.
Forcing the familiar—yet thoroughly tiresome—cigarette smoke deep into his lungs, he rhythmically tapped his fingers against his knee.
“……”
How many minutes passed as he absentmindedly watched the gray smoke ripple like a mirage?
From beyond the ruined city visible through the window, he suddenly caught sight of a pair of headlights flashing.
As though he had been expecting them all along, he rose from his seat and casually brushed back his hair.
“You've kept me waiting.”
The weather had turned chilly.
Putting on his black coat, he crushed the half-smoked cigarette into his portable ashtray before leaving the room.
“Attention. Where are you going?”
“Just taking a walk. Don't accompany me.”
“But...”
The Military Police assigned to protect him clearly looked troubled.
Yet there was no way they could refuse Jin Crow.
Not only because of his rank.
These very Military Police officers had personally witnessed him, the moment he rose from his sickbed, walk straight toward the temporary morgue where their fallen comrades rested in this unfamiliar land.
“...Understood. Please don't stay out too long. Attention!”
Though reluctant to disobey Headmistress Ideale's orders, the Military Police ultimately saluted crisply.
Jin Crow returned the salute before quietly walking down the corridor and leaving the hospital.
Outside, cold wind and frigid air greeted him.
The night sky hung oppressively overhead.
Dried blood stained the cracked concrete.
Uncollected chunks of Creature flesh remained scattered among collapsed buildings.
It was a scene worthy of an apocalypse.
How long would reconstruction take?
Unable to resist any longer, he took out another cigarette.
Lighting it, he calmly headed toward the direction where he had seen the headlights.
Thud.
Thud.
The heavy footsteps of his military boots echoed through the dark streets.
At last, the moment he arrived beneath a streetlamp whose light had long since gone out—
“My apologies for being late.”
A man dressed in a black suit beneath a dark brown overcoat, wearing a fedora, emerged from the shadowed alley.
Removing his hat, he bowed politely.
Looking directly into Jin Crow's eyes, he added,
“The Godmother wishes to see you.”
“Let's go.”
His voice was calm.
Unemotional.
The fedora-wearing mafioso nodded before respectfully opening the rear door of a black sedan waiting nearby.
To anyone unfamiliar with such treatment, the escort would have felt burdensome.
Jin Crow, however, was different.
He calmly entered the rear seat.
The man in the fedora took the front passenger seat.
The driver, who had been waiting beforehand, quietly gripped the steering wheel before speaking in a noticeably tense voice.
“We'll be departing now.”
This time, even a verbal reply wasn't necessary.
Jin Crow merely nodded.
Vroooom.
The sedan carrying him pulled away.
One after another, several more black sedans that had been parked nearby with their headlights off fell in behind, escorting him.
Stretching out comfortably across the spacious rear seat, he crossed one leg over the other and lit another cigarette.
Every so often, searchlights flashing across the ruins swept past the window and briefly illuminated his pale face.
His eyes, however, were noticeably clearer than before.
The dark circles beneath them had faded slightly, though they still remained pronounced.
And within those eyes was—
‘Tita Genorua. You have much to offer me.’
A quiet sense of anticipation.
There was only one place Tita Genorua would be.
The Genorua Family's grand estate.
Naturally.
For generations, it had served as the historic safe house where the Genorua Family's bosses resided.
It had become nothing less than a symbol.
‘Especially now, when authority must be established.’
For a brief moment, the name Genorua had nearly been replaced by Anubis.
Regardless of the circumstances behind it, appearances always mattered when preserving an organization.
Especially one that belonged to the underworld.
Accordingly, the estate looked far cleaner than Jin Crow remembered.
Naturally.
If they wished to establish authority, leaving the corpses of their own brothers lying around instead of cleaning them up would have been a problem in itself.
Creeeak.
Upon arriving before the mansion, the mafioso in the fedora once again opened the car door for him.
Jin Crow extinguished the cigarette he had been smoking in the ashtray before stepping outside.
But at that very moment—
“All full members of the Genorua Family.”
Looking at the rows of men in black suits standing in formation along the garden path, Jin Crow couldn't help letting out a quiet chuckle.
“We greet the Consigliere.”
Each man removed the fedora from his head and placed it against his chest before slowly bowing.
They lived in the shadows.
Yet yearned for the light.
As children, they survived by pickpocketing.
As adults, they carried submachine guns known as the Mercato Typewriter.
Dressed in black suits, wandering the city's back alleys.
No matter how expensive the food they ate or the suits they wore, they remained crude.
Vulgar.
Gentlemen who could never escape what they were.
This was another expression of their respect.
Taking in the scene, Jin Crow slowly raised his gaze toward the mansion's terrace.
“You've come.”
Standing there was Tita Genorua.
Her signature long black hair framed the elegant suit she wore, a cigar resting between her lips.
“My Consigliere.”
The new Godmother of the Genorua Family had been waiting for him.
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