Running away wasn’t working out, either. She had far more firepower than he did, like a cannon-wielding warship fighting a single rowboat. Once again, Adlet was forced to reflect upon the fact that he was powerless. All he had that could be called weapons were his tiny sword, poison needles, throwing knives, smoke bombs, and a few piddling explosives that couldn’t compare to Fremy’s aresenal.
But even so, Adlet believed that he was the strongest man in the world.
Fremy flung bombs haphazardly, heedless of the damage. Adlet was bound to fail to intercept one of them eventually. He pushed off the tree branch and flew through the air, curling into a ball as he braced for impact.
“Oh, did I get him? will not be enough for me,” said Fremy. “I’m never satisfied until I can see clearly, with my own eyes, that my enemy is nothing but a lump of meat.”
If he fell to Fremy’s pursuit, it would be over. Before she could toss another bomb, Adlet threw one of his needles that caused intense pain.
“Urghk!” It hit. He was lucky.
With Fremy frozen in her tracks, Adlet would be able to escape. But instead, he chose to stay. If he tried to run while still out of breath, his blood wouldn’t reach his brain, and he wasn’t going to survive this unless he used his head. What should he do now? Should he try to discover how the fog had been generated? Should he try to help Hans? The answer was neither.
It was Fremy. There was no way Adlet could win unless he could earn her trust. He would not run away. He would face her—he would face her mistrustful heart. “What makes you think I’m the impostor?” he called out.
The smoke was clearing. Adlet could see Fremy in front of him now. She yanked out the poison needle protruding from her right shoulder and threw it away. “Don’t you talk to me with that filthy mouth of yours.” She sounded furious.
But why was that? He hadn’t done anything to enrage her. At the same time, Adlet had thought of this as his chance to get to understand her. If he could discover why she was so livid, he could find a way to change her mind. “Answer my question, Fremy!” He raised his voice intentionally; attempting to pacify her would have the opposite effect.
“Because I can see who you really are. I can see you’re really just a cowardly con artist.”
“I told you to answer me,” he said.
“Because I can see the filthy motives behind the things you say, your clear attempts to string together what you think I want to hear in an attempt to deceive me.”
“I was being sincere! You don’t see anything!”
Fremy glared at Adlet as she created a gigantic bomb. She clearly intended to blow up him and everything around him, leaving nothing. Adlet restrained the urge to run, instead standing his ground.
“Liars always say the same thing,” said Fremy. “I trust you. I’ll protect you. I’m thinking of you.” That was when Adlet saw the faint tears in her eyes. “No one will ever deceive me again,” she continued. “Nobody is going to protect me. I won’t even consider such a convenient idea. I will fight alone, live alone, and die alone.”
“Fremy…”
“I know now! I’ve felt it keenly on my body, on my skin! I know that if trusting someone is just going to result in betrayal, it’s better not to trust anyone!” she yelled, throwing the bomb.
As Adlet watched it coming toward him, he thought about Fremy’s past, about the time she’d been betrayed by those she loved. It wasn’t that she couldn’t trust people—she’d just made the firm decision that she wouldn’t, to avoid the possibility of future betrayal. But from another angle, that meant some part of her wanted to trust someone.
Adlet jumped back and threw a bomb at his feet. This one wasn’t smoke or tear gas: It was lethal. A backward retreat alone wouldn’t be sufficient to evade her explosives. The only way he could possibly avoid it was to blow himself backward riding the blast of an explosion of his own. He barely survived, earning full-body burns in exchange for not being pulverized.
Then Adlet heard a voice behind him. “Fremy! Is he dead yet?”
“Mora!” Adlet and Fremy cried out simultaneously.
Mora charged toward Adlet with violent speed. “Don’t use your bombs! Support me with your gun! I’ll finish him!”
Fremy tossed aside the bomb she had just manifested and raised her gun. Mora closed on Adlet, focusing into her gauntleted fists her intent to obliterate him.
Adlet stood, turned away from Fremy, and charged straight for Mora. Just before her fist connected, he crouched, and as he did, Fremy fired. He was completely defenseless for that one moment. There was no way he could block Fremy’s shot.
“!” But Adlet survived. The bullet made a high-pitched noise as it was repelled. Adlet had not been the one to intercept it. It had been Mora.
“Mora, why did you block it?” asked Fremy.
“Calm down,” said Mora. “Look at him.”
Adlet was on his hands and knees before Mora. He had thrown away his sword and had extended both his hands, palms up. It was a pose of submission. Fremy lowered her gun.
Her expression utterly scornful, Mora said, “So you have finally surrendered. But it’s too late. Do not think you can survive.”
“We’re down one, too, after all,” said Fremy.
“But before you die, you will tell us everything,” said Mora. “Confess to us your plan and who is behind it.”
Adlet raised his head and asked, “Is Hans all right?” There was just one thing he was afraid of—that maybe Mora and Chamo really had beaten Hans half to death together.
Mora’s expression changed very slightly. From her discomposure, Adlet could tell that Hans was safe. “What are you talking about?” she said. “You are the one who hurt him.”
“As long as he’s safe.” Adlet did not alter his submissive pose. Mora’s fist
