Walter didn't seem affected by Bera's wrath the night before; once again, he found himself here. As he spoke, the heavy scent of alcohol wafted from his breath. His sudden movements and raised voice drew the attention of several people in the establishment toward them. Arsh lowered his head and pulled his hat down a little further.
"Walter… keep your voice down. We're working," Bera said.
This time, Walter leaned in and whispered.
"Who are you watching? Let me help."
"You're drunk. Later."
Walter didn't allow Bera to finish.
"Oh, please. I am the most sober person here—after you two, of course. Let me handle the job. What do you need?"
Bera looked at Walter. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke.
"Only names. It would be enough for now"
"Whose names?"
"The men sitting in front of the stage," Arsh said.
"Got it. Sit in the corner and wait for me."
Walter vanished into the crowd as quickly as he had appeared. As he walked away, Bera followed him for a moment with a disapproving look. Together with Arsh, he sat down at a nearby empty table and they waited to see what Walter would do.
"Walter is actually intelligent. He hasn't put us in danger so far… at least not seriously. But his behavior is overly showy and unpredictable. Acting outside my or the team's control makes coordination difficult. You'll understand what I mean in a moment."
Still, Bera hadn't stopped Walter. Arsh took that as a sign that Bera trusted him.
Meanwhile, Walter re-entered their field of view, staggering slightly, three glasses of liquor clutched between the fingers of each hand. Without worrying about spilling the wine, he waved his hands in the air to the rhythm of the music, slipping through the dancing crowd like an acrobat.
Suddenly, his foot caught on an invisible obstacle, and the wine in his glasses poured right over the heads of the two men sitting at the table in front of him.
Walter looked at the men with a shocked expression, appearing as if he didn't know how to apologize. The men, on the other hand, were furious and ready to pounce on him, waiting for a single word to come out of his mouth.
"What have I done? I am truly sorry! I was taking them to my friends sitting over there," he said, pointing to a table where a group of drunken men sat just behind them. A few of them noticed they were being mentioned and, though entirely clueless as to why, they gave a sloppy wave to Walter in greeting.
"But I tripped!" he said, this time pointing to the non-existent obstacle on the floor.
One of the men had already stood up, ready to lunge at Walter. Walter, on the other hand, raised his hands to keep the man from getting closer, backing away a step or two with a frantic expression as he continued to speak.
"How can I make it up to you? I'll cover the cleaning costs for your clothes. For now, let me buy you a round of drinks… anything you want, the most expensive one. How about…some Eldoran wine?"
Hearing this, one of the men turned to his standing companion.
"Jim, the fellow made a mistake. It's only right to forgive him, isn't it? He's trying to make amends."
At that, the man called Jim glanced at his friend, then at Walter, and finally sat back down.
"How kind of you… just a moment," Walter said.
He stopped a passing waiter, placed the order, then pulled up a chair and sat down, continuing to apologize. Once the drinks arrived, they began to talk. Before long, laughter started rising from the table.
Unlike before, their voices had returned to a normal volume, and Arsh and Bera could no longer hear their conversation.
Still, Arsh watched Walter's strange boldness with admiration.
"Does he have some kind of siuni for acting?" Arsh asked.
"He's a natural," Bera replied. It was clear he had witnessed similar scenes before.
…
About an hour later, after the last man at the table finally succumbed to the drinks and slumped over, Walter stood up, paid the bill, and walked out as if nothing had happened.
Bera and Arsh followed him.
After walking in silence for a while, they turned onto another street. Finally, Walter stopped and waited for the others to catch up. Despite the overwhelming scent of alcohol clinging to him, his eyes looked perfectly sober.
"Jim Sterling, Terry Vance, Frank Halloway... Those are their names. They're responsible for the security of The Minister of Colonies' estate. They called their team leader's name as Captain Thorne. Today was their day off. They came here to spend the bonus they got from their last job. But when I asked what that job was, they wouldn't talk. No matter how much I beat around the bush, I couldn't get more than that out of them..."
"A memory Siuni?"
"Most likely. It was as if something was jammed between the gears in their heads—whenever they reached the same point, they just got stuck. All three of them."
"What is a memory Siuni?" Arsh asked.
"Someone with a memory Siuni can distort another person's memories… like what happened with Mary Lowe. Or even if the person remembers, it can prevent them from being able to express the event properly. According to the records, if a truly powerful Siuni bearer has this ability, they could erase a person's entire memory and reduce them to a vegetative state."
"At least we have names now. That should make starting the investigation a little easier. I'll leave a message for Herman first. You two return to the manor quietly," Bera said, before turning onto a different street.
Although Walter clearly had little desire to go back, he boarded a carriage with Arsh that they had stopped together. They traveled in silence for a while. Something about Walter had changed—it was obvious he was deep in thought. Unlike his usual cheerful self, he stared blankly out the window, his head resting against the glass. Arsh saw no reason to break the silence.
After a moment, Walter finally spoke.
"I heard your story… Were those men the ones who killed your villagers?"
Everyone had heard what happened to Arsh. However, this didn't bother Arsh at all; because here, everyone had a similar story to tell.
"Yes," Arsh replied.
"If it were me... If it were me, I would have ripped their heads off right then and there," Walter said. His voice was deep and raspy, unlike his usual self.
"You're lucky. At least you know where to go for revenge and exactly who your target is. I envy you."
"What?" Arsh muttered. Even though Arsh hadn't known Walter for long, but this wasn't the kind of talk expected from him, especially after the show he had just put on.
Then, Walter smiled and turned his head away from the window to look at Arsh. He looked a bit more like his usual self again.
"You know this already. None of us are as lucky as you. None of us has a place to go back to… not you either. What makes you luckier than us is simply that you know exactly who you're after. Everyone here has a story. Bera, Mes—you've met Juan, he has one too. Even Professor Reiner and Mr. Herman, fortunate as they may seem, still have their own stories behind them."
Arsh hadn't really thought about anyone else since the day he left the desert. From that moment on, he hadn't wondered about anyone's story, nor had he asked. But, of course, that didn't mean he hadn't noticed. Mes and Bera were orphans. Juan wasn't even originally from Symran. His teammate, Eliz, didn't exactly look like a lucky woman either. He didn't have much of an idea about the others. Although Mes had mentioned a thing or two about Professor Reiner before, he had carefully avoided going into detail.
Arsh already knew that everyone had a story. But for now, his own story was what mattered most—his father's, his grandfather's, and the people he had grown up with. That was what had brought them all together on this path. Still, that didn't mean he would refuse to help the others if their goals ever aligned.
"So, what's your story?" Arsh asked.
"Hm… mine?… Mes must have told you about the kind of siuni I have." Walter let out a short laugh to himself.
"My father and Professor Reiner were friends. After my father was assassinated, the Professor started looking after me. Actually, they tried to kill me along with my father. I was right there with him. Professor Reiner rescued me just as I was on the brink of death. I did have a mother, but because they made it look like I had died, I never had the chance to see her again. And I had a younger sister. She was a newborn back then…. I heard that my mother passed away last year, and my uncle is the one raising my sister now."
"Maybe one day you'll go back," Arsh said.
"I don't think so. I can't put them in danger."
"Maybe one day, when everything is over… when there's no threat left."
"Do you really think a day like that will ever come?"
"Isn't that what you're working for? FFSD. It took me a while to learn what it stood for—Fight for Sunny Days."
Walter burst into laughter, nothing left of his earlier somber mood.
"I hate that name. Really. Do you know who came up with it?"
"No. Who?"
"You'll meet them soon enough."
They continued talking in a lighter mood for the rest of the ride home. By the time they arrived, it was close to midnight. That night, Arsh slept easily, feeling that he was finally closing in on his goal—that his revenge was no longer so far away.