Exploration, floor 2 b

... What's goin' on here?

Interior design renovation is underway at the Luxury Hall, as you can see.

Please watch your step.

Ah, apologies for the noise. This renovation is a rather large-scale construction project.

... "Renovation," eh?

My old bossman used to say "grab yer tools, lads! We're headin' out to renovate a whole lotta mugs!" whenever we went after other Syndicates.

That what you mean, lass?

Not exactly, no; this is just a very special refitting, quite unlike any before it - more than just switching out a few out-of-fashion displays. This time, the project is to build a cradle... in anticipation of the advent of a very important someone.

I see now. This is when the Rouges attacked the Noirs, taking control of the Luxury Hall.

So... what're they eatin' back there? Some kinda cannibal feast?

We are feasting on the Noir. Though this will hardly sate our hunger...

Please return once the construction work is complete. You will soon see this place reborn into a far grander state of beauty!

(She hums a nice tune, seemingly pleased with herself.)

... It would be prudent to revisit the Luxury Hall once their "construction project" is completed.

... Huh. How'd you know they won't let us in, Clock?

<Oh, that's…>

I'd been holding back on sharing the details of the loop with the Sinners, as doing so before I even understood how it worked might only plunge them into further uncertainty.

But now that we're this far in, maybe they could provide further insight if I kept them in the loop about... the loop.

Just as I was about to entertain that thought, a distant voice, breaking through an unfathomable stretch, cut through into my head.

You mustn't...

Beset by... the gaze of the multitude...

Lest your fate... be lost...

<…!?>

... Has something occurred?

I must be the only one who can hear this voice.

Disclosing too much... risks... exposure...

Then... cannot be... free from the... sunshine...

<... Well, I just had this gut feeling that they probably won't let us in.>

Yeah? Fair enough, mate. I 'spose they didn't look like the friendliest sort even from a distance.

Raise your Prestige Rank first and come knocking again. Then, perhaps, we will reconsider your qualifications.

Hah! That's child's play, lass! Lookee, it ain't no trouble reaching my elbo -

- oooaagh! Blimey, where am I!?

It appears that you have discovered the means of moving between the floors, Dante.

*cough* So, what're we doin'?

<…….>

<Well... I don't know. Since we can't enter the second floor proper...>

<... back to the restroom, you two... I guess?>

Oi, how do ya know that without givin' it a try? Don't go throwin' in the towel already.

Heathcliff, what Dante said is less out of despair and more -

Yeah, whatever. Let's at least see what's goin' on here.

A wall made of flesh and bone blocks the way. There are bodies of dead Noirs splayed around the floor past the wall.

We cannot go in this direction yet, Manager.

Aaah... At long last...

Please... I leave the rest... in your hands...

... We should've... been better prepared for our assault...

If only... if only we could've... spread the news faster... Didn't have time... to assemble...

Dammit... Damn it all...! We can't let the Rouges take the hall... They'll - they'll...

…….

<... Let's enter the Cradle.>

Manager, the piece of flesh has been emitting a rhythm akin to heartbeat ever since we first entered this floor.

<Has it been getting stronger the closer we've gotten to the Cradle?>

Yes. It appears to be a gradually intensifying resonance phenomenon of sorts.

That piece of flesh... It's got a similar feel to this cocoon-egg-thing, don't it?

Look, that's a mouth, innit? I think we're gonna have to feed this thing to that egg.

Your hypothesis carries merit. Faust concurs with that course of action.

<Let's... uh... do that?>

Understood, Manager.

Ugh, I hope this doesn't awaken somethin' horrid in there...

…….

The Cradle quivers. Translucent blood vessels, radiating like the tendril roots of a plant, tremble in an irregular sway.

Oh, bollocks. Oi, got anything sharp?! We gotta help, kid's startin' to go weak!

<Uhm...>

Perhaps we could use the pair of scissors obtained at the Alteration Shop.

<Oh, you're right. Let's try cutting it open.>

It almost looked like it was... breathing.

Meursault fed the piece of flesh into the cocoon. It suddenly jerked alive, jostling as though it had been waiting to receive it.

It appears that the membrane has... grown thinner.

<Something's flailing wildly in there... Is it trying to hatch?>

Mm... though it has successfully punctured a small part of the membrane, emergence seems highly unlikely at this point.

Hang on, don't help it - let nature do its thing. I heard babies got to save themselves -

Just as Heathcliff suggested that we leave it to fend for itself, the movement within the cocoon slowly began to subside.

She lies dead still, but is wearing a peaceful smile - the same kind of smile only seen on the faces of those who know they have successfully carried out their duty to the end.

There's a piece of cloth and a Noir's note hidden by the base of the pillar.

<Hey, there's something written on this piece of cloth.>

It says "The covetous Rouges have finally gone mad. The precious Golden Hide that preserves the Grand Magasin - they've - "

Whoever wrote it didn't get to finish their message. Looks like they had to hide it in a hurry...

I stole a quick glance at the carnage being perpetrated on the other side of the wall before looking back at the piece of paper.

<... Let's take this with us, just in case it becomes relevant.>

<I don't know what'll happen when we get there, but... Let's try to find a way up to the fifth floor.>

<Regardless of what the Rouges want us to do, our goal is to get to the top floor of this building.>

In other words, you haven't yet reached the fifth floor and beyond.

<... No, I haven't.>

Then your subsequent course of action should be to visit the fourth floor and seek a passage from there, Dante.

<Hm, yeah... But I should stop by the third floor before we do.>

The third floor? Haven't you been there already?

... We've already decided to help the Rouges this time around. Might as well go all in and get on their good side.

<One of the employees on that floor really wanted to meet this... child. I thought it might be nice to have them meet.>

Proceeding to the third floor.

Yeah, you do that. ... Oh, yeah. Better teach the kid manners now when you can, Clock! Else you'll never get the chance later, yeah? Remember that!

<What are you even talking about...?>

We proceeded to the third floor as Heathcliff continued to lecture us about the importance of early education.

Huh... It's that big lass who was guarding the entrance.

A corpse.

Please... You must... the... cherished one...

Eh? Back on this floor? Oi, bring in many eyeballs?

We have earned enough.

Ooh... Not a bad pull, CH!

<... She totally rubbed off on you, didn't she?>

Mm. The guardian at the gate seems to have left. It is likely that the "interior design renovation" has ended.

<Things seem a little different from last time...>

The majority of corpses appear to be of the Noirs, Manager. The battle is most likely winding down in the Rouges' favor.

It was you... whom the Slumbering One... has asked me to hold out for...

As the Brand Director... I was bestowed with the responsibility... to protect the noble Slumbering One. As the Brand Director... I held down this hall...

The entity behind you must be the source of the Voice.

Yes. This is the Cradle... the garden of our ceaseless tending. In this place, the Slumbering One stirs to nascency, to blossom their flowers throughout the Grand Magasin... in return for the offering that is all that we are.

Yes... The one who shall tend to the Rouges in the absence of our Voice.

<They haven't been awakened yet, it seems.>

I've been humming the most wonderful of lullabies in all of the Grand Magasin. Building the Cradle for the noble one - my magnum opus - weaving it thread by thread, my conviction a weapon against this insatiable hunger...

So, you're like... What, that thing's nanny, I assume. And it's about to wake soon anyway, innit? What'd it call us here for?

My role was to be a warm blanket for the Slumbering One. Now that my duty has ended... I will soon meet my end.

... Eh?

They will be weak upon waking. When the Slumbering One awakens, the gentlest breeze of the Grand Magasin will be as harsh as cutting winds to their skin, while the Noirs, driven by their ignorance and fear, will seek to bury the noble one within the fractures.

We need your help, strangers.

Soon, their voice shall resonate between the walls of the Grand Magasin... Stay with them... until they can guide us all, with the whole of their body, on how we are to desire...

Hang on a bloody second. You're offloadin' that baby on us, ain't ya? And we're just 'sposed to play nannies for a newborn?

Oi, I don't know about this... We need to get more eyeballs, find our way to the top floor, keep your clock head safe, and escape this hole - we can't take care of a child like that, mate.

Why have you decided to come here, Dante?

<... To make a different choice.>

... Is there something I am unaware - ... Are you aware of a piece of knowledge that I am not allowed access?

<Yeah... Probably.>

Does the answer lie... at the terminus of the road this choice will pave?

<I don't... know.>

... It is quite like how Faust operates, your behavior.

Despite not knowing whether this is the right path, you...

…….

Understood. Faust has no further queries.

…….

Was this the one... who sang to me?

Well... That's what she told us.

The face... it's smiling. Why...?

Dunno... Maybe she were bloody over the moon, even with one foot in the grave.

... But why?

She... wished for your birth and waited for it with anticipation.

Therefore, seeing you likely produced that happy smile, Pwie.

I don't understand. I didn't know her. She didn't... really know me either...

And she was still happy?

... You're a right pain in the arse now you've learned how to talk...

Some things just are. Grown-up stuff kids don't get.... Yeah, grown-up stuff.

I'm going to grow soon.

Maybe I'll grow even bigger.

So... I want to know more before I grow.

When I'm learning new stuff... the cold goes away. I get to completely forget the empty something...

That's why... I want to know. I want to know why she can smile even after dying...

... Instinct may lie at the root.

The Rouges possess an instinct through which finding a new voice and following it fills an internal deficit.

What's... "instinct"?

It's a capacity or behavior that does not require instruction.

An inclination that directs the subject of its own accord from the moment consciousness begins. One's nature, in some ways.

Then what is... my instinct?

That is... unknown to us as well.

Many reach the end of life... without attaining a definitive understanding of their own essential nature...

A faint, contented smile hangs from her lips.

To die in service of others, of another... What kinds of emotions, experiences, and memories are capable of shaping a person into someone who so readily makes such a decision?

<More Noirs are coming this way...>

We must bring the Brand Director's Golden Hide.

<Yeah. Let's get inside.>

It's a pillar where a piece of cloth and a Noir's note are hidden by its base.

The corpse of a Rouge. The bladed arms have all been snapped apart, leaving the body sprawled across the floor.

The corpse of a Rouge. The entire body has been crushed beneath a heavy hammer, mangled beyond recognition.

<It's just a corpse.>

... I ain't seein' what's so "luxury" about this place. Sure, it's a bit shiny, but it ain't that posh.

These items seem to have a more obvious golden glow to them than the items on the other floors. Even the ones that aren't glowing are meticulously decorated, obviously crafted with great care.

... The items here appear to cost significantly more eyeballs than those available on other floors.

Carrying sufficient eyeballs is not enough. The Prestige Tier of the prospective client is also strictly screened before they are permitted to purchase these items.

Oi, Clock.

<Yeah?>

... Nah. I, hm. I've a bad feelin' about it.

<What? Bad feeling about what?>

Well... seein' as we're here anyway, I'm thinkin' - why don't we just take these and sell 'em on other floors? It ain't like there's anyone watchin' us...

That is -

I get it, I get it! I was just floatin' the idea, nothin' more. Don't need another shite like that hair coupon incident happenin' again.

But I was just about to tell him that was a really good idea...

Ah, well. The display cases seem to be made from pretty durable material anyway. We decided to move on.

Densely backstitched Golden Hide is visible between layers of fabric.

A display case. Covered in... what appear to be a curtain of flesh.

Thin rays of golden light shine from the cracks of the obsidian pillar.

The Noirs have stuffed Le Rouge apparel into the gaps where the Rouges have carved out the Golden Hides.

The pillar is completely swallowed up beneath crimson flesh. Its original shape is difficult to discern.

[Sélection du Noir - Atelier du Premier Arbre: A collection of six articles, hand-nominated by the Brand Manager herself]

Hurry up, what're you bein' so careful for?

<You never know...>

Made a clean cut using the Alterationist's pair of scissors.

You really want to see where this goes, huh? I guess that's one way to kill time. Doesn't matter; whichever option you end up going with, we'll get a steady supply of Experience Batter.

<... Sounds like she's not so happy we're making a different choice.>

... "Sounds like she's not so happy we're making a different choice," said the Manager.

Well... I do wonder that myself.

I don't know if you recall - who am I kidding? Of course you do - but I often repeat-taste the Canned Stageplay over and over again. I once watched the same Canned Stageplay over 78 times.

Same actions, identical line reads, predictable expressions coming in at moments I'd grown intimately acquainted with... and the same ending I'd watched over a dozen times, followed by a curtain call so familiar it felt like home. All of that soothed my heart. So much so that, when an actor inevitably forgets his line for the nth time, I feel like I have to rush up to the stage and read the line for him.

... I know what stageplay you are referring to. Riddled with blatant inconsistencies in all of its aspects, its central theme and authorial intent were just as incomprehensible as its nonsensical plot.

That's the one. It was so low-budget that they couldn't afford even a single professional thespian on stage, and the amateurs they hired predictably put out some of the most awkward performances I'd ever seen. It was a terrible Canned Stageplay, by all accounts.

But... strangely enough, I found myself comforted as I experienced that play.

No one could understand why I would do such a thing... except you, ma puce.

You get me.

From where the Voice had disappeared,

from the Cradle sectioned open... something crawled out... in the form of a child.

…….

Oi, kid -

…!

Ueh... Uu...

Kid... I can't understand a word of what you're sayin'.

Euh... Uu...

Though the child wasn't really speaking per se, their gestures and the unspoken request gave me a vague sense of what they wanted.

Uu-ah.

The child picked up the piece of the Cradle we had cut off earlier, lifted it to eye level...

Wha... wha' are they doin'? Tryin' to make a weapon out of it?

Perhaps they are merely drawn to observe it, by a spark of curiosity.

Aaaah...

... and opened their mouth. It was uncomfortably wide.

<Um, I think they're trying to... eat it?>

O-oi, stop that! Drop it, kid! It's yucky, you got that? Yucky!

Ee?

That's the last random piece of flesh you're pickin' up from the ground! Give it!

The child glanced at us in what appeared to be a wary scan. They then carefully lifted themselves, waddled up to the Brand Director, and placed their hand on her body.

Ah... the Slumbering One has awakened.

…!?

The Brand Director spoke, her eyes opening from a deathlike slumber. The child jumped away from her, just as they had from us earlier.

It seemed we weren't the only ones the child was afraid of; they shrank away from everyone and everything.

Many have awaited... your advent...

Uuu...?

We Rouges have given our all... in anticipation of your arrival. And we offer you... what is... and what will be...

Bring them to the Restaurant on the fifth floor, strangers.

To speak the true Voice... to mature... the newborn must reach... that floor...

Please... for... all of us...

…….

She has drawn her final breath, it seems.

Heathcliff roughly snatched the cut piece of membrane out of the child's hand.

Uunnnhh!!!

<I think you made the kid angry. And scared them at the same time, somehow.>

<Doubt they'll follow us like that...>

Perhaps the cause of alarm can be traced directly back to Heathcliff's theft of the child's "snack."

What was I supposed to do, just watch the kid take a big bite out of that chunk of raw flesh? Oi, am I right or what?

Nnnnnuh...!

Wooow. Really, mate? It ain't like I want to bring you along.

<... Heathcliff, why are you arguing with a kid who can't even speak...?>

Such behavior is a sign of immaturity manifest in adulthood.

Wha - *sigh*

Heathcliff's eyes went wide with bewilderment. He huffed angrily, glaring back and forth between us and the child.

Alright, fine. Whatever. What're we doin', then? Find some sweets to lure the kid into comin' with us?

<We did promise to look after the child, so... I don't know about luring them with sweets, but we're going to have to do something to appease them so that they'll follow us willingly.>

Appease the kid? Here's somethin' you lot don't seem to understand: if you want stubborn kids like 'em to follow you, appeasement ain't gonna cut it.

Might you be... speaking from your own experiences as a youth?

…….

<I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that the "stubborn kid" was yourself.>

Shut it, you two. Point is, you've got to teach 'em a lesson that you can't just whinge your way through the world and expect everything to go your way forever. I say we pretend to leave the kid behind, and they'll know to come with.

Without Ryōshū, none of those present were particularly experienced in child-rearing. So...

... the only option we had was to hold our doubts and potential arguments behind our teeth and let Heathcliff try his hand at convincing this child to come with us.

Nuhhh!!! Nnhhh!!!

Right-o, kid. We're about to head out. Stay here or come with - you do whatever you want, I don't care. We're really leavin' now!

Aah.. eh...?

Heathcliff wheeled around and stomped out of the Cradle, much to the child's apparent surprise. The child turned to us - though I couldn't see their eyes, it was unmistakably a look of confused astonishment.

It was dark outside the Cradle save for a few rays of sunlight that peeked through. From where we stood, it really looked as though Heathcliff had left us for good.

What're you lot faffin' around for? On the double!

We hurried out of the Cradle as well at Heathcliff's insistence...

Once outside, we peeked surreptitiously between the curtains as the child looked around frantically.

Uu...

Unnnhhh...!

Oi! We're leavin', kid! I ain't playin' around! Cry and throw a tantrum all ya want, I ain't comin' back!

The child babbled fearfully for a moment, as though they were afraid of the creeping darkness...

Uu... Nnuhhh...!

... then hurriedly toddled toward us, leaving the Cradle behind.

See? That's how you deal with kids.

…….

... There is still some distance between us and the child.

Doesn't seem like they're feeling safe sticking with us...

... even though it's pretty obvious that they don't want to be left alone.

<... So we're just walking around like this, I guess?>

Nngh...

Oi, oi... you... is your head alright?!

It is all right.

<We've got plenty of stuff that might come in helpful, but... still too early to even try to fight it, I guess.>