A man stood before the front door of the house. Miranda Jane spoke to him, her voice laced with irritation.
"What in the world is this about? A sudden 'Sorry' out of the blue?"
Miranda Jane’s crescent-shaped eyebrows arched in suspicion as she glowered at the baby-faced, short man smiling cheerfully before her—her own brother, Patrick Lerner.
"What's the big idea, Ricky? You're going to explain yourself, I trust?"
Her beloved husband and daughters were out at a rock concert and not presently at home. The only ones there were Miranda Jane and the family's Dobermann, Lucky. This was precisely why she felt no compunction in unleashing her sarcastic remarks upon her brother—channelling twenty years of anger, worry, frustration, and anxiety into her voice.
To add to it all, Lucky the dog was showing his own wariness towards the unfamiliar Patrick Lerner, letting out a low grrrrrr. But Patrick Lerner simply offered a brazen smile and said, "Haha. It seems I'm disliked by both my sister and her dog."
"Don't change the subject, Patrick."
"Sorry. Force of habit from work, I suppose..."
Seeing her brother show no real sign of remorse, Miranda Jane clicked her tongue. I've had enough. As she muttered this, a flicker of panic finally appeared on her brother's face.
Michael, the eldest; Martin, the second son; Miranda, the third child and only daughter; Spencer, the fourth son; and Patrick, the youngest. It seemed that Patrick had just now recalled the unspoken rule among the five Lerner siblings: never, ever anger Miranda.
"So. 'Work'? What is it you do now, I wonder."
Tap, tap, tap. As if to command the flow of the conversation, Miranda Jane tapped the toe of her pump against the floor. Patrick Lerner scratched his temple nervously, his cheerful smile twisting into a strained one. He reluctantly confessed. "...I suppose you could say I'm in government service."
"Oh, really? For instance? A public servant in some office? But a normal public servant wouldn't need to vanish without a trace, would they? The police wouldn't just vaguely brush off a missing person's report. And there'd be no reason for the Alusthogrun Bureau of Investigation to suddenly call the family and tell them to come to the hospital. Am I wrong?"
"Ah, well, about that..."
"What is it? A job you're too ashamed to tell your family about?"
"...It’s not something I can talk about in a loud voice. I'd appreciate it if you could take a hint."
"Ooh, whaaat's thaaat? I can't heeeear youuuu."
"Th-the Alusthogrun Bureau of Investigation!! Serving this country as a special agent—"
"Oh, is that so? Really?"
"You doubt me?"
"Of course I do. I can't imagine my little brother—with his prosthetic arm and leg, gonadal dysfunction, osteoporosis, and a history of leukaemia; a man riddled with handicaps—could possibly handle a physically demanding job like the ABoI. It would be too much strain on your body. Dr Davis would have forbidden it."
"..."
"Besides, if you really were a special agent with the ABoI, you could show your face to your family with pride, couldn't you? And yet you've been out of touch for over a decade. And let’s not forget the time Dr Santos suddenly called, and when we went to the place he specified to see you, you were on your deathbed. And that wasn't just once, but twice."
"Ah, well..."
"Setting aside the first time, the second time is the problem. You were dying from leukaemia that you'd let get terribly advanced. And even though Michael donated his bone marrow and you recovered, you ungrateful wretch, you didn't even thank him. You disappeared again right after you got better, without a word. You betrayed your own brother, who went through pain to give you his marrow."
"No, I'm sure I thanked Michael at the time—"
"So many awful things have happened. And yet... you expect me to believe you? What are you really doing?"
"..."
"Patrick."
"...Well, you see, there are some complicated circumstances."
"Patrick?"
"Look, it's true, alright? I really was with the ABoI. You have to believe me."
"Tell me the truth."
"I was with the ABoI before. But things happened... and now I'm with the Alusthogrun Secret Intelligence agency. I, ah, well, I travel inside and outside of Alusthogrun, acting as a sort of mediator for minor disputes."
"The ASI, I see. Finally, that makes sense."
Miranda Jane, standing tall with her arms crossed, looked down at the small man. Her gaze was utterly cold.
I had a feeling it was something like that. She muttered, but her voice was devoid of emotion. It was a dry, untrusting tone. Patrick Lerner was used to being looked at this way by strangers, but he was not accustomed to it from his own family. Faced with his sister's severe attitude, he finally let a sliver of weakness show. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Of course not. But if you're going to claim you were with the ABoI, you must have at least one major achievement to your name, right? Well then, show me some proof."
Miranda Jane’s glare struck his heart of steel, leaving a large, deep crater. For the first time that day, Patrick Lerner’s expression was something other than a smile. His shoulders slumped dramatically. He let out another weak protest. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."
"You don't know that."
"Eli Grissom. I'm the one who arrested him. And also..."
"That's a lie. I've read Helen Gardner's memoirs. It was Agent Patricia Velasquez who arrested Eli Grissom."
"Helen Gardner, that hag is a liar. She stole the credit from her own top student, Carlo Santos, and robbed me of my honour. I mean, do you really think anyone else could have pulled off a stunt like that? Disguising myself as a child to get myself kidnapped."
"What? No way, Patrick. Did you really...?"
"It's true. And it was a bloody close call. I've arrested other murderers too. Dmitry Krestyaninov, the cannibal who targeted only women of Japanese descent. He said that women's flesh is softer than men's, and that Japanese people, with their balanced diet of meat, vegetables, and fish, were the most delicious. He claimed Westerners, who eat nothing but meat, smell too strong, and North Americans, with their love for cheesy, high-calorie food, were too disgusting to eat."
"...That's horrifying."
"And then there was the paedophile Sigrid Colwitz. The woman who only targeted boys under the age of twelve."
"Yes, I know of her. The madwoman."
"That madwoman was actually my ex-fiancée."
"What? ...Wait, what!?"
"She went berserk right after I broke up with her. I'm the one who arrested her, too. Besides her, almost every female paedophile who's been caught for going after boys in the last decade or so was a former girlfriend of mine."
"You're joking... What kind of women have you been meeting?"
"My colleagues say the same thing. They all seemed like nice people at first. By the time I found out their true nature, it was too late. That's why I'm too scared to even think about marriage anymore. And there were others too, like Antony Strauss, the necrophiliac who targeted only tall, black women; David Portman, the serial killer who targeted only petite, blonde, blue-eyed women; Liu Meifan, who played the angel of death to elderly dementia patients, and..."
"Aren't they all famous criminals? ...Wait. Did you really arrest them?"
"That's right. If you want, you can ask someone at the ABoI. Believe it or not, I'm something of a legend."
Patrick Lerner puffed out his chest, a smile returning to his face. Seeing it, Miranda Jane sighed in exasperation. She then took out a camera and snapped a picture of his smiling face. Patrick Lerner’s expression soured. "Hey, Miranda! What are you taking a picture of!"
"Proof that my good-for-nothing, disrespectful brother is alive and well. I'm sending it to Dad later. This should put his mind at ease a little. Although? The best thing would be for you to go home yourself, wouldn't it?"
"Don't you do that! The higher-ups are strict about this sort of thing!"
"I don't care about that. Putting our old parents' minds at ease is more important."
"Seriously, stop it! Delete the data, now!"
"If you promise to show your face to our parents and the other siblings, I might consider deleting it."
"I can't. My schedule is packed. I came here because I thought I might be able to see you, Miranda, since you live nearby."
"Is that so? Then I'm not deleting this data. I'll be sending this photo to Dad, and to Michael, Martin, and Spencer."
Patrick Lerner tried to snatch the camera from Miranda Jane, but she raised it high above her head, refusing to give it up.
There was a height difference of about thirty centimetres between the siblings. When the taller sister raised her arm, the significantly shorter brother could not reach it, no matter how much he jumped. Resigned, Patrick Lerner glared at the camera, crossed his arms, and looked down. He muttered, "...Please give my best to our parents and brothers."
"You're really not going to see them?"
"I can't. I've been warned by my superiors not to."
"Is your job at the ASI that dangerous?"
"..."
"Patrick?"
"Don't even think about doing something stupid like hiring a detective to find me. I know all about it. I know you were trying to get Alexander Colt's father, the private detective Douglas Colt who specialises in finding people, to look for me."
"So you see everything, is that it? ...Now that poor Alex has passed away in that accident, I hear her father has closed his detective agency. And now that you're here in person, there's no need to ask him anyway."
"I'll say this just in case. That detective really hates my guts. So even if you asked, I doubt he'd take the job."
"Patrick. What did you do?"
"Because of that detective, my buddy's private life was turned into a complete mess, for one? Well, a lot of things happened..."
Patrick Lerner fell silent, a sad expression on his face that did not suit him. Sensing something serious, Miranda Jane also went quiet.
Looking down, Patrick Lerner said to his sister:
"...I'm truly sorry. I used to think that after I made a name for myself at the ABoI, I'd come back to the family with my head held high. But it seems I took a wrong turn somewhere along the way, and now I can't go back. I thought I was serving the greater good, but before I knew it, I was spending every day cleaning up someone else's mess. It's truly disheartening."
"..."
"I'm glad I got to see you one last time, Miranda. I thought you'd reject me more, but..."
A sad smile played on her brother's lips, and a glint of something shiny appeared in his large eyes. Miranda Jane tilted her head at a phrase that had caught in her mind.
"...One last time?"
It was at that moment a particularly strong gust of wind blew towards Miranda Jane. It was a gale so strong she could barely stand, let alone keep her eyes open. For just a moment, she closed her eyelids. When she opened them again, the wind had died down, and her brother was gone from the front door.
"Where did you go, Patrick? ...Haaa, that idiot is so impossible to deal with..."
Then, Lucky, who had been lying in wait behind her, barked a low woof woof. His gaze was fixed on a cardboard box that had been placed by the front door.
"A box? That wasn't there a moment ago. What in the world..."
Could it be a parting gift from her brother? Miranda Jane cautiously approached the box and gently opened the seal. The moment she saw what was inside, her face tensed.
"...This is Alexander's...!?"
Folded inside the cardboard box was a red leather jacket that Miranda Jane recognised. The beautifully maintained vintage jacket spoke volumes about its owner's delicate side. It was the leather jacket that her student, Alexander, often wore on chilly days.
Realising this, Miranda Jane took the red leather jacket out of the box. As she looked into the now-empty box, she discovered a memo at the bottom. She crouched down and read its contents.
"...'Please give this to Alexander's father,' eh? Patrick's as bossy as ever, now and in the past..."
Miranda Jane took out the memo, then folded the red leather jacket and placed it back in the box. She then closed the box and began to get ready to go out.
Whilst choosing her outdoor clothes, Miranda Jane took out the tacky business card she had received from Alexander long ago. She then dialled the phone number written in Comic Sans.
"Is this Alexander's father, Mr Douglas Colt? ...No, this isn't about a job. Actually, a package addressed to you has arrived at my house... Ah, my name is Miranda Jane. I'm the Latin teacher at the school Alexander attended... Yes, that's right. Is that so? I understand, I'll head over there right away. Yes, thank you."
When she next awoke, Alexander was given a new name and a new life. At the same time, her entire past was erased. All records of a person named Alexander Colt, any place she could return to—everything.
According to what she had heard from Lucan, now known as Eileen Field, Alexander was officially dead, killed in a tragic accident. But no body had been found, there were no leads, and the investigation had stalled. Her case was now considered a cold case.
Afterwards, her parents divorced. Her mother, after grieving her daughter's death, had accepted it and moved on. She had found a new fiancé and was now living a peaceful life. Her father, however, was reportedly living alone in the suburbs. He had closed his detective agency, quit his paparazzi work, and was living like a hermit.
And Neil, after safely graduating from high school, had studied relentlessly and got into Central Victoria University on his own merit. After graduating from the law faculty with barely passing grades and a terrible thesis, he had joined the Special Agent Training Academy. There, he had apparently discovered a hidden talent, and his grades at the academy were consistently among the top. He was already being watched by the higher-ups as a promising newcomer handpicked by Patrick Lerner himself. It was said that the director of the Sydney branch was particularly fond of him.
"So, Alex. How does it feel to live in the world of shadows? Have you grown accustomed to the missions yet?"
"...Nah, not yet. I reckon I never will."
"Everyone thinks that for the first few years. But before you know it, you're neck-deep in the darkness, and you start to fear the light."
In an armoury bathed in the dim light of pale white lamps, the woman once known as Alexander was cleaning an assault rifle—a rifle from the series known as the "Colt Commando". It was Patrick Lerner who spoke to her from behind.
"Of all the lights, I hate the pale blue light of Abaddoselenium the most. The light of calamity, that twists all of creation and brings about all sorts of disasters."
As he spoke, Patrick Lerner gently placed a cup of freshly brewed tea on the table near Alexander. Cheers, she said with a slight nod, then gave a wry smile. The truth was, Alexander was not particularly fond of tea.
Just then, 'Lucan', or Eileen Field, came bouncing over. "Oh, you made some, thanks," she chirped, and snatched the tea that had been offered to Alexander.
"Abaddoselenium. No one knows its true nature. We don't even know if it's matter yet. A substance without an atomic nucleus, it just doesn't make sense, does it? It's truly a mystery..."
Patrick Lerner said this, looking at Eileen Field with a cold expression. But Eileen Field pretended not to notice his gaze. With a clueless smile, Eileen added to his words.
"And where Abaddoselenium comes from is kept secret, too. And even Pellmond Varlozzi, who's supposed to be the discoverer of Abaddoselenium, says he doesn't know, so it's all just completely baffling. But the people who try to use such an incomprehensible substance are just as baffling, you know? They're bloody mental. I mean, the amount of risk involved in using the energy that Abaddoselenium produces is just not..."
"But that's just how market principles work. Humans are greedy and foolish. They prioritise immediate profit over the beautiful nature they should be passing on to the future a hundred years from now. It's the government's job to put a stop to such tyrannical market principles, but—"
"But the head of that very government is the one leading the charge with a 'profit first, human life second, environment last' stance, isn't he?"
I wish that president would just be overthrown. Eileen Field muttered casually. Patrick Lerner nodded silently in response. And Alexander watched the two of them as she disassembled her assault rifle. Then she said, "...You two get along really well, don't you?"
"Eh? You reckon?"
Eileen reacted with delight to those words. In contrast, Patrick Lerner looked thoroughly disgusted. He furrowed his brow and left the armoury, leaving the scent of tea behind him.
Years passed—
"You're rather late, Archer. Where have you been dawdling?"
Special Agent Neil Archer, summoned alone to the director's office, stood at attention before the figure sitting with her legs crossed in a black leather chair—the Director of the ABoI Sydney Branch, Noemi Zedillo.
"My apologies, Director. I got held up interviewing the victim's family. The kid's parents were kicking up a fuss, saying they'd only talk to me..."
Straightening the collar of his navy blue suit and tightening his loosened striped tie, Neil Archer scratched his nose with an apologetic look. As if his words had reminded her of something, the Director uncrossed her legs and stood up sharply. As she did, she asked Neil a question. "Ah, that kidnapping case. Any progress?"
"We've identified the culprit from the CCTV footage. He has a prior conviction for sexual offences. Virgil Edington, forty-eight, runs a crematorium in the suburbs. His occupation is..."
"Alright, alright, I see you're working hard. As expected of an agent handpicked by Patrick Lerner. "
"Patrick Lerner, you say?"
"Yes. We were in the same class, and we were buddies for a time. He was truly exceptional, in all sorts of ways. To the point of becoming a dark legend... Anyway, there's a reason I called you in today."
The Director let out a mysterious chuckle, then said to the closed door, "You can come in." The doorknob turned with a click, and the door opened. And when he saw the person who entered, Neil Archer could not believe his eyes.
"Let me introduce you. This is Agent Alexandra Caldwell, dispatched from the Special Service Agency WACE."
"Um, Director. What... what does this mean?"
"Archer. From now on, you will be working with her. I'm appointing you as the liaison between the ABoI and the Special Service Agency WACE."
The person who had entered the director's office was a blonde woman, dressed impeccably in a black suit, her eyes hidden behind pitch-black sunglasses. Her long, blonde hair was a mass of strong waves. And on her left cheek was an old scar, as if she had been clawed by the large paw of a lion.
There was no mistake. This woman was her. Neil Archer was certain, and he tried to read her expression. But she, whether she was playing dumb or something else, greeted him with the kind of curtness one would use with a stranger.
"A pleasure to meet you, Special Agent Archer. I am Alexandra Caldwell, from the Special Service Agency WACE. I look forward to working with you."
The woman who called herself Alexandra Caldwell offered her hand to Neil Archer. Warily, he shook it. Then, a defiant smile playing on her bright red lips, she squeezed his hand with a powerful grip.
"Um... have we met somewhere before?"
"No. I believe you're mistaken."
Don't mess with me, you idiot! Neil Archer had thrown out the line as a test, but she deflected it with a blank look. But the grip on his hand only tightened.
Don't say anything unnecessary, you bastard. Neil Archer felt the silent pressure.
"Ah, I see. Must have been my imagination..."
Neil Archer said this and pulled his hand away. He then turned to the director.
"Director. I'd like to speak with her alone, so... may we step out into the corridor?"
"Yes, of course."
Excuse us, then. Neil Archer gave a slight bow to the director, then grabbed the arm of the woman who called herself Alexandra and led her out into the corridor.
After closing the door to the director's office, Neil Archer led her into a separate room that was rarely used. He then opened with a shout.
"What's the meaning of this, Alexander! Do you have any idea how many people were worried sick about you...!!"
"That was seven years ago, wasn't it? Besides, I'm—"
"Alexandra Caldwell, right? What a bloody joke of a name."
"...Lerner gave it to me. If you have a complaint, take it up with him."
Alexandra Caldwell, or rather, Alexander Colt, took off her sunglasses, revealing the green sanpaku eyes hidden beneath.
As she looked at Neil Archer, as if sizing him up, the sense of justice that the old Alexander had once possessed was nowhere to be seen.
Hidden behind her sharp gaze were the cunning fangs of someone who had been hardened by the world. It was a gaze that strongly resembled the shrewdness of Patrick Lerner.
"So there you have it. It's been a while, Neil."
Alexander stared at Neil Archer with her sharp, green eyes. But Neil Archer fell silent and looked down at the floor.
"..."
Suppressing the urge to punch her, Neil Archer's clenched fists trembled.
He had so much he wanted to say to her. For the past seven years, he had thought the woman standing before him was dead. During that time, he had been consumed by regret and remorse. But now, he was being confronted with the fact that all of it had been meaningless. His regret and remorse had turned to anger, and he was desperate to unleash that emotion on the Alexander standing before him.
"...Alex."
On the day she disappeared, the scene where she was last thought to have been was left with bloodstains from multiple people, including her own. He had heard that the amount of blood she had lost was enough to have been fatal. There were also multiple shell casings scattered at the scene, and several blood-soaked iron pipes lying around, indicating that she had likely suffered serious injuries.
Yes, Alexander should have died that day. And yet.
"...Why did you show up in front of me?"
"You ask me why? All I can say is that it was an order from above."
"...Why did you, why did you...!!"
Since that day, Neil Archer had tried to erase her from his memory. He had walked the path that Patrick Lerner had laid out for him, cutting off his past and trying to be reborn as a new person. He had completely abandoned his feelings for Alexander.
The Neil Archer of today had a fiancée named Cynthia. A woman with beautiful black hair and a lovely smile. And the Neil Archer of today was no longer a foolish student. He was Special Agent Neil Archer of the ABoI.
And yet, here before him stood the past. The past that he had tried to distance himself from, to erase, was standing right in front of him.
"Neil. You've changed quite a bit. Even though we grew up in the same environment. You and I, we're in completely different positions now. We've really been split cleanly in two, haven't we? Into shadow and light."
Alexander muttered this, then scoffed at the end of her sentence. Neil Archer turned his back on her and said curtly, "Alexandra Caldwell."
"..."
"...For now, let's just get on with it."
"...Right."