章節 8: Belobog
"The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast."
- Oscar Wilde
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This city is huge.
It's a bustling hub of activity, with people from all walks of life milling about. March, having taken off her ski goggles, is practically vibrating with excitement next to me, her eyes wide as she takes in the sights. Even Dan seems quietly impressed, though he tries to hide it behind his usual stoic demeanor.
My gaze sweeps across the area, taking in the intricate architecture and design, a fascinating blend of old and new. Art Deco towers mix with old Renaissance buildings in contrasting architectural styles. Gothic arches and flying buttresses stand out against sleek metal and glass.
The layout of the city almost seems to spiral inward, with fancy bridges and walkways connecting the different districts in dizzying layers. It gives the impression of Belobog as a giant, complex machine made of gears and parts.
We enter the central plaza, a large open space surrounded by tram-train railways. The patterned cobblestone of the floor features a mix of old symbols and modern motifs. Banners with curious designs wave in the cold wind blowing from the snowy mountains above.
At the heart of the plaza rises an immense crystalline obelisk atop a metal gear, its faceted surfaces reflecting the warm glow of the city lights in a kaleidoscope of colors. It's undeniably beautiful, a true marvel of engineering and artistry. But I feel nothing beyond a clinical appreciation for the craftsmanship.
We make our way through the crowd, and I take note of the landmarks in the Administrative District. The first one that catches my eye is the History and Culture Museum. It's a massive structure that reminds me of the American and Argentinian Congress buildings back home. A pang of nostalgia hits me as I think of Sebastian; he would have loved to explore the museum's exhibits, though if my memory serves me right, there isn't much on public display right now.
I vaguely recall a side quest in the game where you had to collect pieces of art and relics to increase the museum's visitor count. The thought makes me shake my head.
Now is not the time to get lost in trivial details.
We continue our walk towards the Everwinter Monument at the center. I make my way over, sitting on the edge while March and Dan linger a few meters away, still captivated by their surroundings.
My gaze shifts upwards, towards the towering walls of the Qlipoth Fort, their sleek metallic surfaces glinting in the sunlight.
The fort's architecture is strikingly modern and angular, all harsh lines and geometric shapes. Despite its formidable size, it doesn't appear as a brutal military installation. There's an almost regal elegance to the sharp angles and graceful curves, a sense of grandeur fit for royalty rather than soldiers.
And certainly, fit to honor Qlipoth the Preservation. Alisa Rand didn't hold back when she ordered its construction.
It's a breathtaking sight, the kind of architectural marvel that would be declared a wonder of the world if it existed on Earth. Yet, as I take in its grandeur, I feel nothing. No sense of awe, no appreciation for its beauty. Just a hollow emptiness.
Yet, there's something hidden underneath: a subtle undercurrent of unease that sets my skin crawling with goosebumps. This is where Cocolia resides, the corrupted woman I've been training to face in the Simulated Universe. A quiet rage simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the knowledge that I'll likely have to end her life to complete this mission.
After that, I'll meet Kafka, and then…
My brooding is interrupted by March 7th plopping down next to me, pointing excitedly towards a nearby kiosk. "Xander, look! We need to go over there!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.
I follow her finger, noticing a line of people waiting in front of the booth, everyone smiling as they pay and receive what appears to be some kind of food. The delicious aroma wafts through the air, making my mouth water despite my attempts to remain stoic.
"They seem to be selling something tasty," March continues, bouncing in her seat. "I need to get a bite and a picture of it!"
I raise an eyebrow, admittedly taken aback by her incredulous request. We're here to find information about the Stellaron, not sightsee.
Dan, who has been quietly observing our exchange, chimes in with a wry smile. "She always gets like this whenever we visit a new world," he comments, clearly amused by my reaction to March's enthusiasm. "It's become a routine activity in our missions."
I look at Dan, then at March, and ask in a reasonable tone, holding my hands together, "March, you got your purse, right?"
"Of course!" she replies, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Did you bring any credits with you?"
March nods, still perplexed. "Yes, I did."
"Okay, so you can pay with them?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"Duh, obviously," she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
"Alright then," I say, gesturing towards the kiosk. "Go ask the woman if she accepts them."
March looks at me like I've grown a second head, but relents with a sigh. "I don't know why you're making dumb requests, but okay."
I watch as she approaches the kiosk, engaging in a brief conversation with the woman running it. The woman shakes her head, and March suddenly freezes, her shoulders slumping. She turns around and walks back to us robotically, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"I see the problem," she mumbles, avoiding our gazes.
I then glance at Dan as a silent question forms in my mind. He seems to understand what I'm asking without me having to voice it out loud.
"I expected we might need to find an alternative form of currency," he admits with a barely noticeable smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I just didn't mention it to March because I wanted to see her reaction."
March whirls around, her eyes wide with indignation. "Hey!" she protests, punching Dan lightly on the shoulder. "That's mean!"
I sigh, shaking my head. "March, the reason your credits don't work here is because the Interastral Peace Corporation hasn't had a presence on Jarilo-VI for over seven hundred years. Their currency isn't recognized or accepted anymore."
March's eyes widen in realization. "Oh... I didn't think about that."
"If we had a local sponsor or patron, it wouldn't be an issue," I continue. "But since we decided to avoid the authorities, we'll have to figure things out on our own."
Dan nods thoughtfully. "Even if we had been transparent about our mission, there's no guarantee they would have provided support for basic necessities."
"Exactly. We sealed our fate the moment we chose to operate independently. Now we need to adapt and find our own way to acquire food, lodging, and anything else we might need while we're here."
March's shoulders slump, and I can see the realization dawning on her face. "But don't worry," I assure her, "I did think about this in advance."
I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small pouch filled with various trinkets and jewelry. "Our first goal is to trade these somewhere in the city in exchange for money. I heard the currency here is called Shields."
Dan studies the pouch with interest. "Where did you get those?" he asks, his tone cautious.
I shrug nonchalantly. "Courtesy of Herta's funds. Let's just say she owes me."
March eyes it warily, her voice tinged with apprehension. "So, what's the plan? We just go around trying to sell these things?"
I nod, tucking the pouch back into my pocket. "Exactly. While you two go out and scout to try and sell the items, I'll look for a part-time job."
Dan frowns, "What would be the purpose of that?"
"Intelligence gathering and helping us blend in. The authorities may take notice of a trio of strangers running around asking questions, but not of a merchant just doing their everyday trading. Added points if we get to connect with people who can vouch for us."
March bites her lip, looking hesitant. "I don't know the first thing about selling stuff," she confesses, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"I can teach you. Plus, you're a cute lass. Many can't resist when being sold something by a cute girl."
March lets out an embarrassed yelp, swatting at my arm in response.
I ignore her, raising an eyebrow at Dan Heng. He shakes his head, his expression guarded. "My past was... very isolated," he says, not offering any further explanation.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. "I anticipated March not having a clue," I mutter. "I expected better from you, Dan."
March takes the opportunity to punch me in the arm, again, her eyes narrowed in mock anger. "Why are you so rude to me?" she whines, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.
I roll my eyes. "Alright, alright. Let's get started, shall we?"
I finally get up, but before we begin walking, I grab Dan's shoulder, lowering my voice, "Listen. For now, it'd be best if you don't reveal your real name to anyone here. Dan Heng sounds too out of place, and we can't risk drawing unwanted attention. As far as we know, there's been no interplanetary contact with this world for the past 700 years, so it's unlikely anyone from the Xianzhou Alliance is present. Let's keep a low profile until we gather more information."
He looks at me confused. "Is it that big of a deal?"
I give him my most deadpan stare, pointing to a random man passing nearby with distinctly "European" features.
"Does he look like a 'Yanming' to you?"
Dan blinks, taken aback by the question. After a moment, he slowly nods, understanding the point I'm getting at.
"Alright, if anyone asks, you're just Dan, and we're all brothers," I continue. "The cover story is that we come from an orphanage and were raised together. We don't know our parents. March has dreams of designing her own clothing line, you're interested in being a cook, and I'm just a mechanical engineer who has a thing for tinkering with appliances."
March, who has been listening intently, nods with enthusiasm. "Got it!"
With that settled, I begin walking, March and Dan falling into step behind me. As we make our way through the plaza, I notice a familiar figure nearby – Pelageya Sergeyevna. She's talking to a group of children, seemingly acting as their guide for some kind of school activity. I pause, taken aback for a moment as I study her appearance.
Unlike her game counterpart who's supposed to be around
Age difference aside, Pela still maintains her petite stature, her small frame accentuated by the Silvermane Guard uniform she wears.
"So, young boys and girls, let me introduce myself," Pela begins, her voice carrying a warm, welcoming tone. "I'm the Intelligence Officer for the Silvermane Guards and a temporary guide for the 'A Journey Through Belobog's History' program. My name is Pelageya Sergeyevna. But you can call me Pela."
"Yes, Miss Pela~" the children chorus, their voices a cacophony of high-pitched squeaks.
"Now, do any of you know about the history of the Everwinter Monument?" she asks, gesturing towards the towering obelisk at the center of the plaza.
The children's faces scrunch up in confusion, and Pela doesn't look surprised by their lack of knowledge.
"The Everwinter Monument was erected to commemorate the mighty Architects," she explains, her voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. "The Architects are followers of the Aeon Qlipoth. It was they who foresaw the crisis, built up our walls, and established Belobog – preserving the spark of human civilization. They're Belobog's founders and saviors. Even today, they are still tending to the city."
Pela pauses, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. "The Everwinter Monument is made up of two parts: a gear that symbolizes knowledge and industrial strength, and huge ice crystals that symbolize the Eternal Freeze. These two symbols are bound together – the gear restricting the ice. It represents the unyielding spirit of the Architects in the face of nature's barbarity."
Pela's words paint a vivid picture of Belobog's origins. The children, however, seem less than enthused, their attention spans waning as they struggle to stay awake. It's an amusing sight, seeing someone so clearly invested in the city's history trying to teach it to a group of disinterested kids.
What are you waiting for, Alexander? It might be worth interacting with her now versus later.
I raise my hand, catching her attention. She welcomes my question with a warm smile.
"What are the blue crystals from the monument made of?"
"Ah, an excellent question! Those crystals are actually made of Geomarrow that has undergone a change in color. The color of the Geomarrow is related to the environmental temperature during its refinement."
I nod, filing away the information for later. "And how did the Eternal Freeze occur in the first place?"
Pela's expression turns pensive. "That's a question for the Scientific Research Division, I'm afraid. Though they may not be able to give you a definitive answer. The Eternal Freeze is no ordinary natural disaster – meteorological records from hundreds of years ago cannot explain the cause. To put it simply, it's a problem that has plagued Belobog's scientists for centuries."
March leans closer to Dan, whispering loud enough for me to hear. "It seems they don't know about the Stellaron."
"Or maybe they were made not to know," he whispers back, his voice laced with suspicion.
Pela, oblivious to our hushed conversation, turns her attention back to the children. "What about you guys? Any questions?"
They immediately perk up, their hands shooting into the air. "Why are you so small?" one of them asks, prompting a chorus of giggles from the others.
Pela's cheeks flush as she struggles to maintain her composure. "Well, that's enough questions for now," she declares, her voice strained. "Let's take a five-minute break before continuing with the program guide."
As the children disperse, chattering excitedly among themselves, Pela takes a deep breath, her shoulders sagging with relief.
It seems someone's self-conscious about their height…
I take a moment to study her more closely. My eyes are immediately drawn to her phone, which she pulls out of her pocket to check the time. The case catches my attention: it displays a drawn female character on its back.
Unless I'm mistaken, the character adorning the case is from another game by miHoYo, almost like an Easter egg inserted by the creators. A subtle nod to their other works, perhaps?
Thinking quickly, I scan my surroundings, looking for something that helps me strike up a conversation with her. My gaze lands on a girl walking nearby with her friend, her purse featuring a distinctly similar character to Pela's. It has the codename "Rosa" printed next to it, along with the words
Bingo.
I turn to March and Dan, keeping my voice low and gesturing for them to stay close. "Follow my queue."
Taking a deep breath, I approach Pela, crafting a friendly smile and casual tone. "Excuse me. Miss Pela, was it?"
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes me in, clearly not expecting to be approached. I gesture towards her phone case. "I couldn't help but notice the character design on your phone case. Is that Rosa from Tears of Themis?"
Pela's cheeks flush, and she averts her gaze, suddenly looking flustered. "Oh, um... yes, it is," she admits, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
"No need to be shy about it! My younger sister here is also a fan."
I grab March by the shoulders, pulling her close to me. She lets out a surprised squeak but doesn't protest.
Pela perks up at this, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Really?" she asks, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. "That's wonderful! I don't often meet fellow fans of Tears of Themis."
She leans forward, her expression eager. "Who's your favorite character, if you don't mind me asking?"
March freezes, her eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. "Ehh, haha… you know, it's hard to pick just one, am I right?"
Her awkward smile is invisible to Pela's eagerness. "I know exactly what you mean! Wait, don't tell me—let me guess! Is it Artem Wing, perhaps? Or is it Vyn?"
Before March can stumble over a response, I quickly intervene with an apologetic smile.
"Actually, Miss Pela, we're a bit short on time at the moment. I was hoping you could help us with something if you didn't mind."
Pela blinks, snapping out of her fan mode. "Of course. How can I assist you?"
I gesture towards the pouch in my pocket. "You see, my brothers and I are orphans. Our adoptive uncle recently passed away, and he left us with some trinkets and jewelry he had saved over the years. We were hoping to sell them in exchange for some money."
Pela's expression softens as her eyes fill with sympathy. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
I wave off her concern, maintaining a somber expression. "It's alright. We're just trying to get by until I can find a job to support us properly."
Pela nods, her voice gentle. "Of course, of course. I'll be happy to assist you in any way I can."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small card, handing it to me. "This is my personal contact information," she explains. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask for me at the Qlipoth Fort. My offices are always open to those in need."
I take the card, conjuring a grateful smile as I tuck it into my pocket. "Thank you, Miss Pela. That means a lot to us."
Pela returns my smile. "Since I'm currently occupied with guiding these children, I can't assist you directly at the moment," she says apologetically. "However, there should be some merchants in the Commercial District who would be willing to purchase your jewelry and trinkets."
She proceeds to give me detailed directions on how to reach the Commercial District from our current location.
"And you mentioned you were looking for a job?" She asks, her gaze lost in thought. "Do you have any particular skills or areas of expertise?"
"I'm a mechanic. I know my way around radiators, appliances, and the like."
Her eyes light up with recognition. "Ah, that's perfect! I have a friend who owns a repair shop in the Administrative District. She might have a job opening for someone with your skills."
She pauses, considering her words carefully. "I can't make any promises, of course, but it's worth inquiring if she's in need of an extra set of hands."
I nod eagerly, playing the part of the grateful orphan. "That would be amazing. I'd be forever in your debt if you could point me there."
"The shop is called Neverwinter Workshop. It's not too far from here, actually. When you speak to the owner, be sure to mention my name – Pela. That should help smooth things over."
I commit the information to memory, nodding along. "Neverwinter Workshop—got it. I'll be sure to mention your name."
"Wonderful. If you do manage to secure employment there, I'd love for you and your brothers to visit me at the Fort."
I gesture to March. "If I get the job, I'll make sure to bring March by so you two can gush over your favorite Tears of Themis characters."
Pela giggles, her earlier professional demeanor slipping as her inner fan emerges. "Oh, that would be delightful!"
I bid her farewell, grabbing March and Dan by the shoulders and steering them away from the plaza.
As we walk away, I can't help but nod to myself, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Well, that takes care of one item on our to-do list. We know where to sell the trinkets and jewelry now."
March and Dan exchange a bewildered look, still processing the events that just unfolded.
"How did you..." March starts. "I mean, the way you just weaved that whole story out of thin air, and managed to connect with her over something as random as a phone case design..."
She shakes her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. "And you lied so effortlessly! I don't know if I feel comfortable with that."
I consider her words for a moment. "I could have omitted the truth instead of outright lying," I concede. "But I planned to make her feel comfortable before requesting information from her. Do you remember how Pela introduced herself?"
March thinks for a moment, then nods. "Something about being the Intelligence Officer for the Silvermane Guards, right?"
"Correct. Intelligence officers are taught to be suspicious, to the point it becomes an ingrained habit. Mentioning the character on her phone case helped me to throw her off balance."
I pause, letting my words sink in. "She wouldn't be using that phone case while on the job, especially given the prestige of her position, unless she had a deeply personal connection to it. Talking about it lowered her barriers."
"On that note," I stop walking, turning to Dan. "You caught Pela's instructions on where we need to go, right?"
Dan's expression is unreadable even as he nods.
"Alright, here's what you're both going to do. Hold out your hand, Dan."
Dan offers it without complaint and I deposit the pouch on top without a word. "You two are going to head to the Commercial District. Find a merchant and show them a sample of the jewelry and trinkets. Make sure you keep the pouch hidden from view."
I meet his gaze, my voice taking on a hard tone. "They'll lowball you with their initial offer. Don't take it. Maintain that mysterious and stupidly stoic facade you always carry around and let your silence speak for itself. They'll get uncomfortable and throw a higher price."
I glance at March for a second to see if she's listening too before looking at Dan again. "At this point, I need you to look at them with the face you're making right now, like you've just heard something disrespectful—yes, just like that. Then return to the stoic expression, and quadruple whatever price they've offered."
Dan's brow furrows, but he doesn't interrupt me.
"If the merchant says no and tries to back out, call March with you and move on," I continue. "If they try to stop you from leaving, stay put."
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest.
"The merchants will likely accept the higher price you demand for the trinkets, or counter with a very similar offer. Repeat this process with other merchants until you have accumulated enough Shields to cover food and lodging expenses for the three of us for at least four days."
March's voice is small as she raises her hand tentatively. "What should I do?"
I turn to her, my expression softening slightly. "Follow Dan at his side and maintain a stoic expression like his. Whenever someone offers a low price for the items, look at them as if they're beneath you."
March nods with determination.
"If Dan confirms you did well," I add, "I'll let you spend some of the money on that food you wanted from the kiosk."
March's eyes light up while she shakes my hand enthusiastically, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Deal!"
I turn them both around before I gently begin to push them in the direction of the Commercial District. "Alright, now go."
March pauses, glancing back at me over her shoulder. "Wait, what will you be doing?" she asks, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
I wave her off dismissively. "Getting a job, like the responsible older brother I'm supposed to be. And you're asking silly questions, just like the little sister you're meant to portray. I knew you could do it!"
March lets out an indignant huff, her cheeks puffing out in mock offense before she and Dan disappear into the crowd.
A smile lingers on my face as I watch them go, the unexpected moment of playful banter catching me off guard.
What the hell am I doing?
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that had momentarily clouded my mind.
They're not real, Alexander. Get your fucking head straight.
I let out a heavy sigh and run a hand through my hair as I make my way towards the Neverwinter Workshop. I need to figure out how to introduce myself and make a good first impression on the owner to secure the job.
As I walk, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass-panel window of a nearby shop. A moment of realization hits me, and my eyes widen.
Should I…?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my other hand resting on my hip, feeling a wave of disbelief.
"I can't believe I'm actually considering this approach," I mutter under my breath.
——————————————————————
Serval hums a catchy tune as she tinkers with the gadgets on her workbench, her fingers deftly maneuvering the delicate parts. The sound of rock music blares from the speakers, filling the Neverwinter Workshop with a pulsing beat. She bobs her head to the rhythm, her blue-streaked blonde hair swaying with the motion.
"Hey, Serv?" Gepard's voice crackles through the phone, slightly muffled by the loud music.
Serval pauses her work, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear. "Yeah, bro? What's up?"
"I can barely hear you over that racket," Gepard says, his tone tinged with exasperation. "Could you turn it down a bit?"
Serval rolls her eyes but complies, reaching over to lower the volume. "Better?"
"Much. Now, what were you saying about your show getting canceled?"
Serval sighs, her shoulders slumping. "It's such a bummer, Gep. I had everything set up with the manager at the Starlight Café in the Commercial District. They were going to let Mechanical Fever perform there next week."
She scowls, her grip tightening on the wrench in her hand. "But then the stuck-up owner caught wind of it and shut the whole thing down. Said rock 'n' roll was a 'travesty to music' and should have died with the Eternal Freeze."
Gepard lets out a low whistle. "Ouch. That's harsh."
"You're telling me," Serval grumbles. "I was half-tempted to march over there and dent the guy's face with my guitar. Maybe shock him with it for good measure."
"Serval!" Gepard's voice takes on a scolding tone. "You can't go around assaulting people just because they don't appreciate your music."
Serval snorts. "Why not? It's not like he'd press charges against the sister of a Silvermane Guard captain."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't do it," Gepard counters. "I'd have to come down there with a squad and sort out the whole mess."
"Psh, like I need your help," Serval scoffs, her tone dismissive.
Gepard sighs, sounding weary. "That's not the point, Serv. I know you can take care of yourself, but you're still my sister. I don't want you getting into more trouble and tarnishing your reputation even further."
Serval barks out a laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and Serval can practically hear Gepard biting his tongue. "You know what? Never mind. I don't want to start another argument."
She smirks. "Smart move, bro."
He decides to change the subject. "Speaking of family, have you seen Lynx recently? I've been so swamped with work that I haven't had a chance to check on her."
Serval's expression softens at the mention of their younger sister. "Yeah, actually. I saw her this morning. I made her some breakfast before she headed out on another one of her expeditions."
"That's good to hear. I worry about her, you know? Exploring those frozen wastelands all by herself."
"Don't sweat it, brother. Lynx is tougher than she looks. Besides, I packed her a nice, hearty—"
The sound of the workshop door opening cuts her off, a masculine voice calling out, "Hello? Are you still open?"
Serval turns, her breath catching in her throat as a handsome man steps into the room. He wears a fit turtleneck unzipped at the collar, accentuating his muscular build. Dark pants and combat boots complete his casual attire.
"Uh, Gepard?" Serval mumbles into the phone, her gaze fixed on the stranger. "I'll have to call you back."
"Wait, Serv—"
She hangs up abruptly, clearing her throat as she tries to regain her composure. "Welcome to the Neverwinter Workshop," she says, her voice slightly higher than usual. "What can I do for you?"
The man flashes her a charming smile, and Serval feels her heart skip a beat. "Good afternoon. I was told you might have a job opening, perhaps…? My name is Xander, and I'm a mechanic. Pelageya Sergeyevna suggested I see this place."
Serval listens to Xander's low, steady voice, nodding along until the name "Pelageya" snaps her to attention, her mind going blank.
"Eh?"
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