S1002B

Why's everyone so obsessed with this... pile of mangled bodies? And what's with that bright light...? Are those people scavenging for gold these corpses were wearing when they were alive?

... "When they were alive?"

The woman blinked in puzzlement as though Rodya had spoken something utterly out of place.

Bwahahaha!

That's hilarious beyond hilarious! "When they were alive" - now that's something I haven't heard in ages. Look, that one fell from the sixth floor, which means they gave up on reaching the Customer Service Center. Or maybe there was a kerfuffle or a fight over a piece of Golden Hide that didn't end in their favor.

Uh... okay... Gave up on reaching Customer Service... I get that, I guess, but why does giving up make you plummet all the way down to the first floor...?

My turn to ask! Why do we put one foot in front of the other to walk?

Wha...?

... And now you know how I feel listening to your endless questions. Get it now?

Not really...

And the customers aren't interested in an empty husk like that, or that "pile of bodies" you say were once "alive" - they're looking for the eyeballs it had, or... scraps of Golden Hide that might be there if they're lucky.

<Golden Hide... Could she be talking about something Golden Bough... adjacent?>

I dunno... But we can't go parading around what we're looking for to everyone we come across.

The Golden Hide carries a very high value for most customers of Sisyphe. Although they each do have their own ideas of what to do with valuables like that.

Her explanation didn't leave us any less clueless than before.

Anyway. How is it that you managed to emerge from there?

"There"...? The restroom, ya mean?

Rodya didn't raise her voice or say anything particularly noteworthy, but the robed woman's reaction to it was...

Shh...! Do you have to articulate every syllable so loudly like that? Are you trying to piss off the Floor Manager?

...? Huh? What did I say...?

I've never seen a customer walk out of the Fount. Not once. In all the seasons I've gone through, I've never seen that door open.

You... yes, you strangers, who emerged from the Fount... You look lamentably shabby and out of fashion. So much so that the more uptight of the Floor Managers might take issue with the way you're dressed. You should be able to shop for some passable clothes on the third floor, if you've got the eye to buy the right ones.

<Wait a minute. Is this woman...>

<Critiquing our fashion sense!?>

...?!

For reasons unclear, Yi Sang seemed particularly distressed to hear that.

I-is that so? Was that a rebuke about our attire of choice...?

<W-what are you getting all worked up for, Yi Sang...?>

Yup! Especially that hideous jacket you're wearing - it's awful enough without you having to drape it halfway off your shoulders like that. Irredeemably backwards. Nothing about it matches the rest of your attire.

I must object. In my homeland, I was held to possess no trifling discernment in sartorial matters...

Hey, fellas... Can we just figure out where we are first? Let's talk about one thing at a time. Please?

Sure. As you can see, this is the wretched, tedious first floor of this department store. You're in the Beauty Hall - the rancid bouquet of perfume is suffusing the air; do you smell it? It's my second favorite place. I like the Fair Isle pattern in the carpet, you see, and there's always plenty of interesting sights to watch here.

Uh...

I... I remain at a loss. Prithee, tell us, what manner of place is this...?

First time in a department store? What, been living under a rock or something?

Feel free to browse the items if there's anything you wanna wear.

Oh, no idea if this'll help, but just in case you still don't get it...

This was once a place...

... where you had to hit rock bottom first if you wanted to rise back up again.

Now though, as you can see... once you hit rock bottom, that's it. Everything ends.

'Twas of no avail in the least... I can yet make neither head nor tail of this...

And this is supposed to answer the question of who you are?

Oh, me?

Oh, dear. I'm quite bashful about introducing myself out in the open, you know... I'm the "Hermit," you see.

... Lass has that smarmy "backstabber" look written all over her mug, clear as day. We can't be arsed figurin' out what nonsense she's on about, so let's just humor her for a bit and get our arses moving.

Hey, tell that to the whole team, huh? I'm not the one you've got to convince, you know...

You've done nothing but babble nonsense from the moment we ran into you. Clarify your position: are you a friend, or are you a foe?

State your price if you truly intend to aid us. If you give us some absurd assurance about wanting to help for nothing in return, we'll take that as deception... and you as an enemy.

I only want one thing. From the day Sisyphe opened until this very moment, I've wanted one thing alone:

Deconstruct the very existence of the Grand Magasin - every nook and corner of it, so that no one will ever dare to create something like this again!

The woman lowered her voice as though confiding a great secret to us.

"Deconstruct"...?

Mmhmm. Blessed are those who suffer in waiting, for there is nothing they cannot do.

Interested? Something you might want to know: once you enter this place, there's no leaving it until it's time.

Don't worry, everyone here was once like you: a bunch of lost, confused kids.

Eventually... They accept the way of things and go shopping, because there's nothing else to do here.

... Stay trapped here long enough, and we go bonkers like those grave - corpse-diggin' sods? That what you're tellin' us?

If that's the case, explain why you remain unaffected. Does being the "Hermit" grant you that privilege?

*chuckle*

No, hold on. You...

Outis's eyes widened, as though something had just dawned on her...

Until they shifted toward Sinclair.

... I think I know who she is.

I know who she is.

Sinclair spoke in a subdued but resolute voice.

His fists were clenched as though he were suppressing the urge to retch.

Sinclair. Is something...

Sinclair continued, staring at the floor rather than at the woman.

I... I can't say for sure what kind of long game she's playing here...

But we can't let her... trick us...

<What do you mean, Sinclair?>

Thought something felt off from the moment she first spoke to us...

But now I know for certain.

... Inquisitor.

Kromer.

The look on Sinclair's face turned to ice, his voice dripping with venom as he said the name.

Though I could not discern her countenance, there was a certain chill pervading each turn of her speech...

The anti-prosthesis extremist from N Corp., who tortured and killed Effie, burned Sinclair's home, and brutally slaughtered his entire family.

I remember how she gloated as Sinclair cried out in utter grief and anguish... until Demian appeared and cut her down with a single stroke.

<...!>

I try to recall Kromer's features and the impression she'd given us back then.

And then, I shift my gaze back to the woman in front of us.

Oh, finally, you noticed! I was starting to get tired of waiting around the clock!

... Oh.

Yeah... I see the resemblance now...

Rodya muttered under her breath.

Thou...

Thou art of the same blood as Kromer. Then, mayhaps...

A sharp chill quietly slipped into Don Quixote's gaze.

Oh, I'm her big sister, obviously. Wait, don't tell me you thought I was the little sister.

.......

That bitch... she killed my family. Dad... Mom... My sister... She took everyone from me!

Yeah, that sounds like her all right. Nasty little habit of hers. She'd pick on anyone and anything she was fond of, whether they could take it or not.

Don't you dare trivialize -

But, you know, when it was all said and done...

You people got rid of her, nice and clean! Isn't that even-steven?

... You knew?

Well, if you mean, have I heard about how my little sister met her silly end playing her silly game, then yes. I've been given a report.

Saw she got herself killed messing with some employees of a fledgling company - led by an individual fitted with a prosthesis whose tick-tocks make people like us positively salivate.

So you can imagine how long I've waited to meet you.

Like I said, I'd been waiting 'round the clock... twining like a noose to rip that prosthetic head off your torso. I wonder what kind of pretty sound it'll make once we get to the off-with-your-head stage?

The woman who called herself Kromer's sister licked and smacked her lips, eyeing my head.

Her manner of speech was calmer than Kromer's - somewhat more languid. Yet there still clung to every word something that made my skin crawl.

<.......>

But don't worry, it won't come to that. I'm not like my little sister, whose patience would vanish in a heartbeat if she even had a shred of it to begin with.

So, what do you say? Will you join me in razing this place to the ground? It's not much fun when you're on your own. Like shopping, you know. Everything is so much more exciting with company.

... Manager.

Please give me permission... to kill this bitch.

<... Huh?!>

Aha. Now I understand what my sister saw in you. Oh, well... You'll change your mind before long. Window-shopping and making an actual purchase are two very different things, after all. Different mentalities.

Great things are beginning in Sisyphe, strangers mine and murderers of my sister dear. Great, spectacular, and magnificent. You may look forward to it.

Shut up.

Sinclair raised his halberd and charged forward before I could even answer, but...

No.

... He was brought up short with a thunk against the scabbard Ryōshū had quietly thrust outward to block his path.

Miss Ryōshū...?

This isn't the time. Cool your head.

Besides...

Ryōshū motioned with her chin toward where Kromer's elder sister had been standing...

She's... gone.

... where she had already vanished from before our eyes without so much as a sound.