“Meow.” Hans eyed Adlet warily—looking for something in the boy’s clothes or mouth. To see if there was a weapon he could use among the paraphernalia strewn on the ground. But Hans wasn’t paying attention to the one weapon Adlet still carried—his sword. Adlet took advantage of that.
“!”
Adlet grasped the hilt of his sword and twisted. Instantly, there was the sound of a powerful spring, and the blade of his sword shot out in a straight line, piercing the scabbard at Hans’s waist.
“Meow!” Hans jumped away.
Without a pause, Adlet yelled, “Hans! You get it, don’t you? You can tell that miss was deliberate!” As he spoke, he threw away the hilt that remained in his hands. Now he was completely unarmed.
“Why’d ya miss?” asked Hans.
“A man of your caliber should understand that, too.” After throwing away the hilt, Adlet then removed his armor and stripped off his clothes. He showed Hans that he was completely unarmed. “Think about it, Hans. If I were the seventh, would I have any reason to deliberately miss? That shot was my only chance to defeat you. Why would I let that opportunity slide by?”
“…Meow.”
Adlet would use this desperate situation to win Hans over to his side. A man of Hans’s caliber should have understood that Adlet wasn’t the seventh. Please understand, Adlet prayed.
“Yer not gonna trick me,” said Hans.
“If I were the seventh, I would definitely kill you, but not necessarily trick you. It’s incredibly unlikely that I’d be able to deceive you, but I could have almost certainly killed you.”
“…Ngh.”
“I’m one of the Braves, for real,” said Adlet. “That’s why I couldn’t kill you—you’re my ally. That’s the answer. That’s the reason I missed. Let that convince you!”
Still clenching his sword, Hans agonized.
Adlet was sure his argument was logically consistent. He was certain that it could convince Hans. But there was one big hole in his plan. If Hans was the seventh, then Adlet was completely defenseless and standing before the enemy. This was a gamble. Adlet had no choice but to bet on the chance that Hans wasn’t the traitor. Adlet prayed. Please, Hans, let this convince you. And please be one of the real Braves.
In the end, Hans’s body abruptly went slack. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Yer a real Brave.” Adlet had convinced him. Suddenly, the boy burst out in a cold sweat all over. It had been a risky bet, but he’d won. What Hans said next, though, chilled his spine. “It’s a good thing I was the one who stayed behind here,” Hans mused. “Ya could’ve convinced any of the others.”
“Huh?”
“You were close. You were real close.” Hans smiled. Adlet ran toward the belts he’d discarded, groping for them. “Too bad I’m the seventh!” Hans cried, moving in the same instant Adlet did. The moment Adlet grabbed one of his belts, Hans sliced Adlet’s throat in a horizontal sweep.
The searing impact ran through Adlet’s body. He felt the sensation of his own head flying away.
But…Adlet was alive, still grasping for his belt. When he touched his neck, his head was still attached. Not a single layer of skin had been cut.
Hans stood behind him, smiling, as he said, “People can lie with their words. They can deceive with their actions. Ya can’t trust their eyes or their voices or the looks on their faces. But right before they’re about to kick off, their expressions don’t lie. A man’s true nature is always there the meowment before he dies.” Adlet wasn’t really listening to Hans. “If ya were the impostor, ya would’ve had a look on yer face like, That’s ridiculous. But the look ya had said, It’s all over. It looks like yer not the impostor.”
“I thought…you’d…cut off…my head…,” Adlet barely managed to squeeze out.
“Right? ’Cause I cut ya in a way that made ya think that.” Hans smiled and then gathered up Adlet’s armor and clothing and threw it at him. “How long are ya gonna stand there like an idiot? Get yer clothes on. I’m not into oglin’ naked men.”
Adlet composed himself and stood. He put on his clothes and belts and reassembled his sword.
“I’ll be countin’ on ya from here on out,” said Hans. Now that Adlet was all equipped, Hans extended a hand to him. Adlet accepted the handshake. “To be honest, I thought it was a little strange. ’Cause if ya were the seventh, there’d be no reason for ya to try to protect Fremy.”
“If you thought so, you should’ve said that in the first place.”
“Meow-hee-hee, sorry.”
Adlet had taken the first step forward, and it was a big one. He now had a dependable ally—and the one who had suspected him most, too—on his side. Adlet was finally starting to feel hopeful.
Fremy and Mora were at the location where Adlet had spent the night.
“There are various traces of his passage here, but…I cannot determine which way he ran.” Mora, who had been crouching as she examined the ground, seemed to have given up as she stood to go.
“The bloodstains and the footprints all cut off partway,” commented Fremy.
“I am forced to consider that scoundrel first-rate when it comes to flight.”
Fremy looked around. “I wonder if he’s still nearby?”
“The possibility is remote. I doubt he would remain here to be found,” said Mora.
“He may have purposely made us believe that and then stayed in the area.”
Mora folded her arms and pondered for a while.
“What’s wrong?” asked Fremy.
“I don’t know. What is Adlet’s aim?”
“He’s just running because he’s out of options.”
“No. He must still be plotting something. His plans thus far have been meticulous. I cannot imagine that this is the end.”
“Whatever the case, we just have to catch up to him. Let’s go. We have no choice but to search for him randomly.” Fremy turned her back to Mora and began walking.
But Mora called out to her. “No need to rush. Let us talk a spell. We can make our move once we have put our thoughts in
