Exploration, basement floor 2
……
... I can't do anything for you if you don't have a numbered ticket.
Don't even think about cutting in line...
How long have I been here...? I've lost track...
…….
I'm busy right now. I've got to finish this before the color starts to turn.
Oww...!
…….
The fabric that hang here are vibrant - they stand out amidst the drab palette of the other clothes in the area.
Someone put a quite a lot of care into gathering these here.
…….
…….
They're standing in line, waiting their turn.
A line of tiny customers waits ahead. They'll probably prick us with those needles if we try to squeeze past.
<A passage leading to the dye storage. It's sealed tight for now.>
Spools of pure white thread are wound here.
It seems to be a spinning machine of sorts. The contraption is spewing strands of threads at a constant, even pace.
Strands of thread spill forth, winding themselves around the spool. Where could they be coming from?
This is the wall Kromer "walked into." It's not an illusion or anything - she really just phased into a solid wall.
Worthless B.S. on the floor. Did that woman drop it?
<Well, judging on how she's been interacting with us.. she probably left it here on purpose.>
<Meursault, take it for now. It might come in handy.>
Understood, Manager.
The machine looks complicated to operate.
<Meursault, do you know how to operate this?>
I am not familiar with the work procedures of Sisyphe's lower floors.
Meanwhile, Outis began manipulating the machine's complex display.
Hm... I do not yet understand the operating principle, but I have a general grasp of the structure.
<Oh, wow...>
The interface presents three functions: extraction, spinning, and dyeing. Your orders, Executive Manager?
Three buttons appear on the display Outis indicates.
There are three buttons on the screen.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
Huh. These threads are O. of a K.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
... Are... you going to press it again, Executive Manager?
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
You want it S.I.T.?
She is asking whether your objective is to have the skin "split into threads," Manager.
<N-no, that's not what I'm doing... But has Sinclair ever interpreted that one before?>
He has interpreted "S.E.N.I.T." before on the bus. It stands for "split every nerve into threads."
<I really don't remember what the context was when she said it.>
A spool of thread plopped out of the contraption.
It appears to be thread made from... Meursault's skin.
There shouldn't be any reason to press this button again.
The threads twang lightly as the machine pulls them tight.
They're starting to multiply...
... Uh, we weren't told anything about increased production volume.
Don't you think you're going a little too fast? Slow down with the threads over there!
... The customers working nearby are glaring daggers at us.
... The accusatory glares around me are too sharp to risk pressing it again.
A warning states that no dye is available.
Nothing happened.
With all due respect, Executive Manager... may I ask what exactly it is that you intend to accomplish?
<... I mean... Sometimes you just want to mash some buttons, right?>
As I try to hammer the button once more, something taps my elbow.
I turned to find Ryōshū's scabbard, Araya.
For a moment, I could swear I heard it say, "You really should stop acting like a kid..."
Yeah, I should stop. This is getting ridiculous.
Neatly folded stacks of dyed fabric are piled here.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
Hurried footsteps come racing from somewhere as I inspect the fabric.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
Hurried footsteps come racing from somewhere as I inspect the fabric.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
A sound resembling the rumble of a train comes from beyond the door.
As I move closer to investigate, the light leaking through the gap grows steadily brighter.
<Aaargh!!>
...! Executive Manager!
Are you unharmed?! What did you see?
<I heard something like a train... and then this huge flash of light came through...>
Outis scrutinizes every inch of the gap, then points as though she has found something.
Something is lodged inside. Meursault, can you remove it?
I can.
Meursault removes an eyeball from the gap.
The intermittent sounds of train horns and people murmuring are coming through the gap.
It's a sky-blue dye with a particularly pure hue.
A note beside it reads, "Dye under testing. If you intend to use it, take only a little..."
... Not bad. It has some aesthetic value.
No eyeball payment appears to be required. It should be okay to requisition a small sample.
<Let's fill just one container, Meursault.>
Obtained a sample of sky-blue dye.
Nothing but pitch-black darkness. Meursault reaches toward a tiny twinkle of light so faint that it is almost impossible to notice.
Meursault obtained Sawdust.
Green dye.
Looking at it brings a sense of serenity.
A dye with a yellow hue. At a glance, it almost appears golden.
Strangers. That's not the Golden Dye, so stop hovering around it.
Blue dye. Ryōshū turns her head away, looking displeased. Perhaps the azure hue reminded her of the blue glow of the Pinky Nursefather's Corridor.
Araya, on the other hand, is rattling happily as we approach the blue dye. Maybe blue is her favorite color.
A container filled with red dye. "TO BE DELIVERED TO B3" is written along its side.
It's filled with a sky-blue dye with a particularly pure hue.
A bucket full of blue dye.
A bucket full of purple dye. The label on the side says "PURITY - ADEQUATE".
A bucket full of blue-ish purple dye. The label on the side says "PURITY - NOT YET CHECKED".
A bucket, slowly filling with reddish purple dye. The label on the side says "PREMIUM GRADE".
Says "TO BE DISCARDED". On second look, it does look a bit cloudy.
Ohh, maybe this is the Golden Dy - ah. There's a label that says "NOT THIS ONE" taped on the side of the bucket. Guess this isn't it...
Must get these mixed up all the time.
The label reads: "DISPOSAL".
A green dye bucket.
This bucket is sealed tight.
Tried opening it, but the seal would not give.
A sofa painted in a riot of colors.
Whenever I try to sit, the person beside Palette fixes me with a vicious glare.
…….
Ryōshū levels her with a reciprocative glare of her own. Her scabbard sways behind her. Somehow, the motion seems like the wave of a hand of someone trying to stop a fight.
What looks like a department-store directory is glued on a drink vending machine. Damage has obscured most of the lettering.
What looks like a department-store directory is glued on a drink vending machine. Damage has obscured most of the lettering.
I found myself considering the same question on the third floor, Executive Manager...
But I can't help but wonder what this place's criteria for selecting these two-person detachments might be.
And of all people, I have been paired with that woman...
*puff* I.O.T.
<Hmm... Maybe it just picks at random.>
Despite her communication deficiencies, her combat capabilities are beyond reproach. I will tolerate her, Executive Manager.
<So... any guesses as to what I.O.T. means?>
... Decrypting coded communications requires quite a bit of time.
<No guesses, got it. What about you, Meursault?>
Yes, Manager?
<Any guesses...? You know what, maybe I'm pushing it too far...>
It's our turn, Manager.
<Yeah, I knew it. These abbreviations are impossible to - >
<…?>
Oho?
The Arayashiki quivered.
You...
Were you able to decipher that woman's mind-boggling abbreviations all this time?
No.
My comprehension extends only to abbreviations Ryōshū has previously used and that have been interpreted by Sinclair or through other means. New abbreviations remain undecipherable.
Stop fumbling like a M.B. and tell me W.W.A., Clock.
The scabbard shakes furiously. Araya must be getting ticked off.
"Stop fumbling like a mediocre bunch and tell me where we're at, Clock."
…….
This should somewhat mitigate the communication issues, Executive Manager.
<Y-yeah...>
<Anyway... This is B2. We should probably make sure we actually came to the right place, though...>
Hahaha, what a bunch of worrywarts. Relax! You're exactly where you want to be.
The A.B. is here.
"Annoying b - "
<It's fine, Meursault. I think I have a pretty good guess as to what she meant.>
This floor is where the Skein Nest is, folks. The one that supplies threads only to Le Noir's most illustrious labels.
... How did you get here?
Me? Oh, I thought I told you already: I can go anywhere, as long as it's not the Fount.
The Chaplain never stops yammering about it, sure... but what choice do I have? It's an awfully tedious thing, having to walk all the way down here on foot!
Anyway, just how long are you people planning on dilly-dallying?
Any reason we shouldn't D.D.?
That was "Any reason we shouldn't dilly-dally?" Manager.
<About that... I was thinking we'd take our time and look around first.>
Ugh. This stupid tick-tocking... Can you do that over there - not so close to me? Things without flesh make me uncomfortable, fancy clothes or not.
<…….>
I seem to have heard a rude comment directed at the Executive Manager that I wouldn't normally let slide, but let me ask you something first.
... You've been nagging for a while. What are you plotting?
Really now? Haha! You really don't know what's coming for you? That snuffling, don't you hear it? It's so loud!
…….
My word... Poor little dears. You have no clue, do you?
You'd better start running if you're really that clueless... Not that it'll help, but what else can you do?
<... Did she just walk into that wall?>
We've hit a D.E. My scabbard isn't enough to cut through it, and the sword refuses to be drawn.
... We should scout the area and locate this "Skein Nest," Executive Manager.
<Do you know where it is, Meursault?>
The map is quite worn, but we will be able to reach our destination if we follow the route to the right.
<Good. Let's be on our way.>
Back already...? It hasn't been that long since you went down...
Some enraged thing chased us down and killed us. Wasn't all that exciting.
<... Not sure about the enraged part, but yeah, that's what happened.>
That thing was enraged, C.H.
I can't say why I'm so sure about it, but there was no mistaking the emotion pouring out of it.
<Either way, that clears up what's making that "snuffling" sound Kromer was talking about. It's probably...>
Yes, Executive Manager. There is a high probability she meant that cocoon.
Outis and Ryōshū glared at the Golden Cocoon wriggling on Meursault's shoulder.
If it's still wandering nearby... we will need countermeasures.
It's blocking the route necessary for our advance. We will not be able to outmaneuver it by sprinting alone.
<Hmm...>
Um... Did you happen to run into that Kromer woman again?
She suddenly appeared out of thin air, mocked us, and then walked into a wall before we could retort.
<... She didn't seem to be planning to attack us, at least not at that moment... Just like when we first met her.>
<But yeah, she didn't seem interested in lending any help either...>
N.O.W.
... Never off watch... Yeah. She's a Kromer, after all. Can't let our guard down.
<Let's head back out and look for another way.>
Died again, huh?
See? I warned you - that snuffling is much, much too loud.
That monster... Is it still prowling this area?
No. It went flitting off somewhere else. If it does return, it will have to take the long, long way around.
You see, since it's so far away, it'll have to press its ear to the ground and creep along if it wants to track this snuffling down.
Hehe, now that that's sorted, you're all free to dilly-dally like you wanted!
<... It's not like we dawdled because we wanted to.>
Hm? Oh... Is it almost time for the next stranding? How diligent.
What is that supposed to mean...?
You don't know when the stranding hour is? You strangers haven't the slightest clue about anything.
*puff* We've been patient enough, Clock. Time to S.H.N.C.
<... Yeah, maybe it's time we seriously considered S.H.N.C.>
The scabbard sways from side to side, as though it were shaking its head in an emphatic "no."
*chuckle* I'll be back when the time is ripe. In the meantime, make sure you don't die in spectacularly comical ways when I'm not even there to watch the show, hm?
*puff* She went through the wall again.
... I'd much rather converse with Jeanne's disembodied voice than run into that woman again.
My, my. Did you miss my voice that badly?
You seem to be fond of making an appearance without so much as a hint. Do you just enjoy playing god, or have you been indulging yourself for so long that it's become who you are?
Why the "surprise visit"? Are you not already watching our every move from wherever it is you're lazing around?
Oh, hardly. I've been so busy that I missed most of what you were saying just now.
So... Who were you having such a delightful conversation with?
Kromer.
.......
Who? Sorry, you cut out.
Must be the speaker messing up again... eh, it does that sometimes. Can I call you back later, ma puce?
Yes.
*chuckle* Ever the gentleman.
<... We should get going as well.>
*whistle*
S.N., was it, this place? Lives up to the name.
<Don't think we'll have to ask around who the Floor Manager is.>
If those Noirs spoke the truth, that one should be capable of producing the Golden Skein.
<Surely we don't need a higher Prestige Tier just to ask a favor this small, right...?>
As far as I'm aware, Manager, it is required.
<Ahh...>
However, given my current tier, our request will likely be accepted.
... Your report caused needless alarm. State the relevant conclusion first next time.
Thread is being spun. As it spills down, each strand takes on the color of the dye beaded around its nail.
No reason to go this way yet.
You're...
Ugh, don't you see I'm busy? Buy the queue ticket from someone ahead of you, or pay a premium to buy the Golden Dye back. Just stop pestering me.
I said, stop bothering me!
The customer is hard at work.
Back again, strangers?
I've got to say, I'm surprised. Naked got his Golden Dye - I was expecting you guys to show up with a ticket soaked in his blood.
We have reached an agreement with that man. He is willing to exchange his Golden Dye for a dye named L'Incolore.
L'Incolore...? You mean the deep-sea dye?
Where'd he even pick that up? Hardly any customers remember it anymore.
How long must we wait to receive that dye?
You don't have to wait. Deep-sea dye doesn't have a queue. I can't even remember how many seasons it's been since anyone bought it.
<Guess we're lucky for this one.>
Do you still remember how to make it?
Of course. But... I'm not giving it away. It's a huge hassle to make that stuff, you see.
If eyeballs would suffice -
Keep your eyeballs. What I need you to do... is go burst some blubber-bubbles into tears.
Bawl each color out twice. That should do it.
Back already? Hey, I've got to give it to you - you burst those tears better than I expected.
Putty, bring me the batch we made earlier.
…….
Here. Take it.
The old dye you asked for.
…….
... Is this some kind of joke?
What? You asked for L'Incolore. You're looking at it.
But there's -
Can't see it, can you? Maybe your memories have picked up too much stain, or maybe your heart's pilled beyond recognition.
... *sigh* I see what's happening here. Executive Manager, what color does this dye appear to you?
<It... just looks like a bucket of transparent liquid to me, too.>
Don't give me that look. It was a joke. A joke, I swear. Did you really think there's such a thing as a color only the pure of heart can see?
<... What?>
Even if it were real, the world wouldn't be any different.
Colors are painted to be seen, you know? By other people. And purity of heart? Innocence? Doesn't take long for those kinda things to go poof once those same people are birthed into this world.
And we end up with yet another world where no one can see its color. It's meaningless by definition.
So it is.
It's just a colorless something. You can't really dye anything with it.
Mind you, though, I didn't just scoop up a bucket of whatever and call it a day. Producing it is one hell of a process.
S.L.O.P.
What do you mean, "slop?!" Do you have any idea how much work went into that dye?!
I'm saying it's not water-based.
"Seems Like Oil Pigment." Judging by the viscosity and the weight.
... R-right...
... It doesn't even leave any stains.
Of course not. It is transparent.
Nodding along, Ryōshū picked up the bucket of dye Palette had placed before her and marched straight toward the door.
Where do you think you're going?
W.T.T.A. We have what we came for. No reason to be loitering around.
"Weird thing to ask," Manager.
<... Are we sure this is the dye Naked wanted?>
Ask him yourself, Clock.
Though I prefer this one. Cleaner. More elegant than G.D.
Araya's scabbard swayed from side to side, evidently disagreeing. Still, Ryōshū was right about one thing - we would not know until we asked Naked himself.
<... All right. Let's take it to Naked and see how things turn out.>
Here's the requested L'Incolore.
... So this... is L'Incolore...?
Don't you see this clean and elegant hue? What else could it be?
Observe its rippling viscosity, its crystalline transparency that reveals every detail within... This is the fabled L'Incolore, a dye of value surpassing even the Golden Dye.
Uh... but...
The ignorant rabble of B2 appear incapable of perceiving it, but a person of your discernment must recognize its worth at a glance. You, whose heart is unpilled! You, whose attire is beyond reproach!
It pains me to surrender it - but you are extraordinarily fortunate. If Golden Dye were not essential to Le Noir's cause, we would have taken this treasure straight back to the upper floors!
…….
…….
It's... It's out of this world. To think such a beautiful hue could exist...!
<... You're really something, Outis.>
Heh. You flatter me, Executive Manager.
I believed no color in this department store could rival the splendor of gold...
I'm in awe. It appeals to the senses in every way possible...
As promised, I cede the next batch of Golden Dye to you.
…!!!!!
<?!! What is that noise...?>
*puff* It's being wrung for the thread. Not the sort of scream that appeals to my tastes.
... Manager, I hear something rushing toward us from the corridor.
The thing of eld comes.
A warning, if you would.
Thread spun under hindrance shall never yield a color of beauty.
A thing coveted by many will invite much hindrance.
Something is violently crashing through the corridor toward where we were.
Had that black entity heard the cries and returned for the cocoon?
... Sounds as though she wants us to defend this position while she spins the thread.
I recommend immediately fortifying the corridor entrance leading to this position, Executive Manager.
<... Let's do that.>
With this... every last strand has been drawn.
Do you have a spool for it?
Not yet.
Then make it into a tangle of yarn and take it with you.
With this... we have obtained the Golden Skein listed in the recipe.
<Good work, everyone. Let's return to the third floor.>
Now... go back.
It seems we have no further business here.
<!!!>
Are you the one called Naked?
... Customers, looking for me? What do you want?
Hm... I see.
But I cannot do that.
Hmm... Perhaps more eyeballs can -
Don't bother. You can't persuade me with it.
The whole reason I spent season after season on the basement floors, watching countless trends pass me by... was to make an outfit magnificent enough to carry me higher - to the fifth floor. That singular purpose made coming down here all worth it.
Without the Golden Dye, that dream means nothing.
If you had a dye of equal value... perhaps I could be persuaded.
Does such a dye even exist?
This is only a rumor, but... they say there is a dye of exquisite hue, visible only to the pure of heart. More magnificent than even the Golden Dye.
<What does it look like to someone who isn't pure...?>
*puff* Like nothing, obviously. Invisible.
<Who would even wear clothes dyed in something like that?>
This guy, apparently.
Ryōshū shrugged, flicked her cigarette to the ground, and crushed it beneath her heel.
I believe it's called L'Incolore. Bring me that dye, and I will barter the Golden Dye for it.
It's probably rarer than the Golden Dye - and far more striking, too.
... Is Palette aware of its existence?
Well, I wouldn't know - never asked her. Perhaps she does have it in her production line, who knows.
Besides, even if she had a dye that valuable, I'd have to wait ages before I could get my hands on it, since I failed to camp out before opening. And after how much I waited to get the Golden Dye... I don't think I've got it in me for another wait.
Hm? My turn has come, it seems! I have to go collect my dye.
Wait, let us -
Easy there. I've got no problem making a trade if you can really bring me some L'Incolore. I can't head upstairs for the rest of this season anyway.
I'm planning to stick around nearby. Come see me once you've obtained L'Incolore. Anyway, I'm off - got Golden Dye to collect.
<We'll have to head back to Palette if we want any answers about this "L'Incolore".>
This sobbing. So vivid.
Black... Not here...! Far away... still far...!
Ha. Ha. Hahaha. Again, the feast...!
<What is that thing?!>
Withdrawing from this position will compromise the production of the skein, Executive Manager.
Get ready for a fight, C.H.
Like it or not, it's upon us.
<I don't think it's moving anymore.>
<What in the world was that...?>
Grrraaagh...!
You have brought the Golden Dye.
A radiant color steeped in sunlight... a beauty worthy of this thread, would you not agree?
I find myself coveting it in earnest, now that I see it with my own eyes.
The three faces of B2F's Floor Manager stared fixedly at Meursault's pocket. Before long, they lowered their heads and quietly accepted the cocoon.
They swarmed us rather quickly.
Got a M.U.G., those things.
<Okay... and that means...?>
I cannot interpret acronyms that have not been used before, Manager.
Uh, she said... "Got a Mortally Urgent Gift, those things..."
The scabbard rattles angrily as Sinclair interprets Ryōshū's acronym.
But having caught a few scabbard-punches to the gut, Sinclair had already moved a fair bit away from Ryōshū.
<They were so small, too... Couldn't even keep track of where they were coming from.>
<Guess we should pay more attention to the ground.>
<"Tears," she said... "Burst some blubber-bubbles," she said...>
While the experiences at this department store has led me to expect unpredictability at every turn, the nature of those... tears still caught me off guard.
*puff* made for a nice watch, though. Sobbing uncontrollably while doused under bucketfuls of technicolor... Got a kitschy charm to it.
Let's try dying at least once to each color. That should do us good.
<I don't see what good that'll do...>
Now that they've lost their element of surprise, however, the only thing we need to watch out for are those puddles of dye they leave behind. This should be more than manageable, Executive Manager.
<Yeah, those puddles lingered for quite a while, huh?>
<... Alright. Let's try this again.>
<...! W-wait! The Golden Cocoon...?>
Hm? The cocoon is still floating above Meursault's shoulder, Executive Manager.
<Phew... What a relief. I thought it'd been devoured with him.>
Devoured? What do you -
It was devoured. But the cocoon still remains above my shoulder.
<So the cocoon came back, too... Is that because it's now linked to Meursault somehow?>
*puff* T.M.
That acronym has been used to convey "Timepiece, Move," Manager.
<O-okay, where do you want me to move?>
Tsk. I meant "time manipulated."
<Time...?>
Yeah, Outis is behaving a bit strangely, like she doesn't understand what just happened.
Not to mention how the cocoon's been restored, too... Which can only mean...
<Let's head outside and check what's going on.>
Agh... So that's what those Needlekin do.
<We're going to have to continue taking down the Needlekin, too.>
<Well... let's hurry back before that monster devours the Cocoon.>
We must prepare ourselves for the worst-case-scenario - it is possible that the Monster's already gotten its hands on the cocoon.
That is the Floor Manager's room. It will not find it an easy place to enter.
<Hm... That's true. There were other customers waiting in line, too.>
<Still, no reason to sit around and risk the worst. Let's head back to that corridor.>
Ever so cunning... ever unhesitant... and... ever caring.
Mangled flesh peeks from beneath the tiny scrap of cloth.
Pulverized flesh peeks from beneath the tiny scrap of cloth.
It's exploded into a mess of yellow dye and flesh. It's difficult to imagine what it could've looked like before.
It's exploded into a mess of red dye and flesh. It's difficult to imagine what it could've looked like before.
It's exploded into a mess of blue dye and flesh. It's difficult to imagine what it could've looked like before.
<It's just a corpse.>
<It's just a corpse.>
<It's just a corpse.>
<It's just a corpse.>
What are you doing? How rude.
It... it can't be...! Were you Rouge spies all along, after my personal designs...? Damned strangers!
Quiety-quiet... You... need needles? Will you be quiety-quiet if you get to buy needles?
I've got some things I have no use for. I'll let you purchase those from me, as a special favor.
I'm busy, so choose quickly. And don't get any funny ideas.