Faint Indigo Moonshine
Author: Funasato Nogi || Illustrator: Mina Kiryuu
Prologue
Under a sky that seemed to be under a layer of thin ink where green spots that dotted the land surrounded by a dark gray sea that looked like stirred paint brushes.
Here on this man-made island, of Marseille Offshore Academia were the proofs of life such as the trees and plantation areas created here and there that breath with a little help from sunlight.
In the 23rd Mini Park just close to the 30th Education Block of the Educational Building was a man that stepped foot into one of these pale green areas.
It was currently lunchtime, and there was no one else besides him.
"Guess I came here a bit too early."
Muttering to himself, he looked around before walking over to the park and sat on a bench, letting out a "good grief" spoken in an exasperated tone.
His behavior was one of tiredness with a lack of youthfulness in it, which was becoming for the Academia where the brightest of youth in the world come together.
Matter of fact, the man with the stubble didn't look anything like a student at all. He was someone who looked to be at least in his late 20's, if not 30 years old. Furthermore was a scar that ran diagonally down on his left eyebrow and on his chin, giving him an appearance greater than his actual age.
"Well, if only my superior wasn't so rough on people. She really needs to be considerate of their age."
Casually, the man stuck a hand into his coat's nape, took out a crumpled cigarette pack, and pulls one out to place in his lips.
The uniquely designed Ulster coat the man was donned in was made of a gray-indigo fabric with a white front sewned on it as well as a yellow piping, indicating he wasn't a faculty member but a student, and one who was a part of the Disciplinary Police in charge of school discipline.
He was Chief Watchman Jean Jacques, or JJ as he was referred to by those close to him regardless if they were friend or foe sans the woman he mentioned who he mentioned as his direct superior.
He took a puff of the lit cigarette, causing the paper-rolled head to glow like a bonfire. There was a pitiful expression on his face as he exhales the smoke that swam in his lungs in a beat.
"Just what kind of synthetic cigarette is this? It doesn't taste good at all. No better than just rolling up some paper and lighting it up."
Despite cursing it out, he let it keep on burning rather than dropping it away or destroy it. Then, another sigh was let out with the smoke.
"In any case, this year somehow managed to go off without a hitch."
The Disciplinary Police had been forced to take of their off-duty days to work for the past few weeks. The security in 1908 inspected any new student intakes and immigrations, performing duties of VIP escort related to the ceremony, making school rules for the new students at seminars, performing crackdowns on illegal club activities known as "freshmen games", cleaning unruly roughhousing in the name of welcoming new students...
"Compared to back then, well..."
He was someone who has been rooted in the Academia for more than a decade and has seen its development not just as a bystander, but as one who has been on the frontlines. The kind of hard work and fatigue he had come to accept.
It was true that such irrationality and unreasonableness would exist in the Academia.
And there was no sign of ceasing on the issues with Illegals nor that of Art crimes.
Even so, in comparison to the incident years ago...
It can be said that the Academia and Disciplinary Police that he belongs to have finely controlled and operated within order and reason.
"Ah, right...it's been two years now since..."
He points his gray-blue eyes towards the end of the smoke he exhaled...
What he gazed was not at the ink-colored sky above him, but a scene from that day two years before that led him to a certain incident.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 1/Mike Dorset
"Excuse us."
JJ slightly walked through the heavy mahogany door following the blonde woman, wincing at the pungent smell that assaulted his nostrils.
The Disciplinary Police HQ was a fortress that protected the public order and peace in the Academia. The senior sheriff's office, which was where they are supposed to hold all power was already filled to the brim with plumes of purple smoke.
Not just the smell of resin, there was also a strong sense of alcohol too. It wasn't something anyone could have endured even if they had prepared in advance, and currently, they stood in the center of the room til their vision became clearer.
"Gough...pardon. Senior Watchman Anne Beart and Chief Watchman Jean Jacques are now present."
His immediate superior, Senior Watchman Anne Beart, saluted and sent her report to the room's owner even as she endured the smoke with tears welling up in her eyes.
"Thank you for your hard work."
The room's owner--Senior Sheriff Mike Dorset, answered cooly while puffing on a thick cigar with his legs crossed over the desk and leaning back against his chair's leather.
"What's with that salute, JJ? And that mug too? From the looks of it, you got something to say, am I right?"
Immediately, Dorset barks on JJ, who is standing just a foot away from Anne with his hands behind his back and a dejected expression.
"Not really. Though if I really had to say something, it'd be that your taste in cigars are still the worst."
"Is that how you treat your superiors that way?"
The thick cigar danced on his lips as his cheeks twitched.
The cigar he was puffing on was apparently a top-quality gum-flavored cigar imported from Cuba, but had such a strong aroma of alcohol that it'd make a non-drinker get confused with a hangover.
"You asked me a question, and I answered. Otherwise, I wouldn't have opened my mouth in such a stuffy place like this."
JJ shrugged his shoulders with a tone of provocation in his words.
He loved cigarettes and alcohol more than anyone else.
However, it was extremely inappropriate to do this while on duty as the Head of the disciplinarian. As for others, who engaged in anti-Japanese relations on a daily basis, it would have been even more unpleasant.
"You still think of me as some sort of subordinate or something?"
Lowering his legs from the desk and leaning forward, Dorset was frightened while JJ kept on with a followup shot.
"Not even. I wouldn't have known otherwise from five years ago in being concerned about grabbing the head of someone known as the Senior Sheriff in calling them an idiot."
Dorset's face instantly flushed upon being called by his old nickname, the cigar falling off from his mouth without warning, leaving a scorch mark on the mirror-polished desktop. Before he could even make a comeback, the smoke rising from below made him aware of the disaster and he hurriedly picks up the cigar, putting it into an ashtray while twisting it angrily as though it were JJ.
Their relationship had been going on like this for five years now. He was quite the shite during the time he was a Junior Watchman (although not many of the Disciplinary Officers would have been able to deal with him).
Though he didn't call himself that, many of the officers at the time had referred to him as "idiot" for his numerous failures.
"...Your Excellency. Are you trying to rekindle an old friendship with Chief Watchman Jean Jacques? If so, I'd suggest doing it at a bar outside work hours to reconnect at a more suitable time and place."
Dorset snorted when the woman tried to slide in to break off the uneventful tension.
"Tch. A subordinate is a subordinate, a boss is a boss. They don't know how to properly address as such.
In that case, today I can give you a special mission."
While speaking, Anne picked up the materials that were thrown on the desk.
Suddenly, her blue eyes became a radiance colder than ice.
"This is the latest attendance record provided by the Livelihood Committee. This here is the real deal, not the one that appeared in the edited version on the school's newspaper. As you can see, the number of unexpected absences have increased from an accelerated pace throughout the school from the second half of last year to now. Moreover, a significant number of those students had to repeat a year due to insufficient attendance. I'd like to request you two in looking into the truth of this grave matter."
Hearing Dorset's words, even JJ, whom had not looked into the documents understood the reason for why her gaze shifted.
"...I understand the details of the objective. How many personnel do you wish to deploy in carrying out this investigation?"
Anne wanted to confirm the mission's conditions while suppressing her emotions.
"This matter is a very sensitive issue. We make a large mobilization, and it'll get the news reporters riled up. It'll expose the school's disordered discipline to the light of day. Until a certain point has been established, only the two of you will be on full-time duty. Only after we have received the appropriate confirmation will we increase the number of personnel. Any objections?"
With Dorset's affirmation, they knew they had no veto power in this.
Having regained some of his mental fortitude with his authority, he took out a new cigar from a humidor and cuts off the seal at the mouthpiece with a cigar cutter while humming to himself.
"...No. We understand. However, please permit me to request cooperation with each committee's senior officials. I doubt there will be any concern for risk of confidential information being leaked so long as it's limited to those with access rights to confidential information of level 4 or higher. "
(Houh...)
JJ was impressed with Anne's negotiation skills. Despite accepting the unfavorable conditions brought upon them, she was able to take advantage of the confidentiality which was used as the reason for the restrictions, using that as her means to request for external support albeit on a limited scale. Given the reasons he mentioned earlier, Dorset would have a difficult time refuting this.
"...Hah. Very well. However, at this point, requesting cooperation with the Governing Council and the Public Safety Commissioner, as well as the disclosure of information regarding the investigation are prohibited. If or when the need arises to request their cooperation, I will negotiate with them myself. That fair?"
Despite the pain in his face being distorted from the feeling of having been forced into this, Senior Sheriff strongly affirms them of the idea.
"I am honored to receive this assignment. We will begin the investigation right away. Can we be excused?"
Anne answered submissively, the tone of voice being a chilly one as she had no use for it in a place like this once the negotiations are over.
"No problem at all. You may be excused. Ah, JJ. A moment?"
"...What is it, Senior Sheriff?"
JJ turned around with a dejected look in his face at the annoying tone.
"How many more years will it be until you are satisfied being here? I can help with getting you to graduate if you're too stupid to earn credits, even if that means having to bow to the Governing Council. It'd be cheap in letting you go, so tell me how you feel about it."
Dorset gave off a disgusting sneer, perhaps due to anger that Anne was able to get the best of him, or perhaps still thinking about the previous exchange.
"I appreciate your generosity, but I'd refrain from doing so. Your Excellency is also retiring too, are you not? I'd like to apologize for not graduating on better terms with you. We both have less than a year left, Your Excellency."
He cuts back with a tone disgust, the look on Dorset's face relit before he could even see it. So strong it was, it was assumed his hand would catch on fire from the cigar he was holding up.
"Just you wait, you eternal Chief Watchman! You'll be given a single credit tops!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 2/Start of the Investigation
As soon as JJ and the other left, they heard the sound of something crashing and breaking on the other side of the door. It was perhaps the scholar-made gray ashtray on the desk.
"Good grief. You'd think as the head of the group, they'd at least have the dignity, diligence, and patience to at least hold down their irritation until they can't hear our steps."
"Could you please not provoke them too much, senior? That's pretty cold of you."
Anne let out a sigh mixed with a bitter smile as they moved through the hallways of the HQ.
"My apologies. Also, could you kindly not refer to me as your 'senior' out of discretion? You've been my superior for a while now. You wouldn't want to show that to your other subordinates if you keep at it, no?"
"...Pardon me, then. It's an old habit. I'll be careful."
"It'd certainly have been a problem if I used my position as a shield as he has."
"Guess I'll have to try harder."
Their faces which were smiling as they exchanged words with one another, suddenly tensed up.
"However... I shouldn't be saying anything else right now."
"The top executive meeting had just been held since the start of the new year. Mostly, the Governing Council and Public Safety were the ones to get hit the hardest. I can see why he'd gone out of his way to not permit any contact, but their incompetence as the head of the group isn't a joke."
The edge of the two's voices were now laced with uncontrollable rage.
"At least he's finally getting off on his ass. Just wish he'd gotten his stinking ass off sooner."
It was none other than Dorset who spotted the signs months prior, and had demolished all of the investigation notes the woman had often submitted.
Was it due to their jealousy towards Anne, who was able to earn the respect of the junior Watchman's as she rose through the ranks to be promoted to Senior Watchman? Or was it simply out of negligence? One reason or another, the Senior Sheriff had always dismissed her request.
Had any action been taken sooner, so many wouldn't have had to repeat a grade. And on such a large scale, at that.
Though it was a misnomer, it would have been fortunate if the conversation had been limited to just the ordinary student body.
A more serious matter was with the second years, who officially don't exist. By losing their required credits, they temporarily lose their academic privileges. In other words, their very existence within the Academia vanishes.
Losing their privilege to live in the student dormitories naturally leaves them to sink into the Dropout District. When it happens, there's little guarantee they'll ever be in the spotlight again.
This left them with two choices: Either they become second-class students or lower, becoming a modern-day slave. Or they become an Illegal who commits various lawless actions. Regardless, this meant the expansion of the dark side of the Academia, the very forces of darkness.
Matter of fact, it was estimated that over a thousand students. most likely those of the second year have gone missing.
As it was, they had no choice but to hang back and watch the situation worsen and until now, they continuously felt a sense of urgency.
"Whatever the circumstances are, however, we were given the courtesy of having the authority to investigate this. Finally, we can pass along a formal request to all parties involved."
To ensure the ability to investigate at any given time, she had been making unofficial contact in various areas. However, to elicit official cooperation requires appropriate authority. Now with this insurance to the mission, the information that is proof she has the right to investigate should have been sent to her mobile device.
"Now where should we start?"
Matter of fact, they had a rough outline of the direct cause of the no-excuse absentees issue through steady research during their break from work.
"There's a clear correlation between the no-excuse absentee's and the number of arrests made on drunk people on the street by the Disciplinary Police that we've been keeping a close eye on. Let's start by examining both the data and identifying duplicates. If we include the list from the Board of Health to expand it, the number of applied people will be even greater. If we can track their records of boarding and disembarking on the street locomotive before and after their absences, we'd be able to understand their ecology pattern and the range of their activities. This way, it should be possible to pinpoint the casual relationship between the increase in excessive drinking and the no-excuse absentee's issue from that information. However..."
"The question is why is there a large quantity of highly-concentrated alcoholic beverages circulating in the Academia that's producing such a large quantity of drunk people."
"Exactly..."
Most of the alcohol on the campus were either low-quality alcohol or pseudo-alcohol, with those being adjusted for the students. The most those alcohol would do is make their stomachs groan before they got drunk.
Although "true" alcohol was imported for senior students and teachers, the Transportation Committee severely restricts their distribution. Moreover, special tariffs were issued which made them a luxury item on campus.
"If some of the Transportation Committee were involved in this, then the reason for their smuggling would certainly be possible. But given the scale and target audience of the matter, it'd be difficult to pin them as the main players."
"...Right. Even if it were offered on a cheaper price than usual without customs, it's no wonder that the cost is the same as the price itself or even the cost of smuggling it. Not exactly something a second-year student would hesitate to worry about in drinking it."
"In that case...it must be a moonshine line."
"Perhaps. I'll be inspecting the line myself. Could I ask kindly to proceed in proving the causal relationship from the previous line, Senior Rear Guard?"
"You suggesting the line might be different than before?"
Even in the Disciplinary Police, the standards for investigations were a two-party buddy system.
This was because in the chance an investigator were to go at it alone, he or she would be unable to deal with any unexpected situations. However, JJ was able to break that golden rule this time.
"We're the only investigators at the moment. I feel we wouldn't do well if we worked together. Well, I'm certain the committees will be able to find someone to handle the information processing. Besides, I'm not quite good with doing the paperwork."
One of the reasons why he was never promoted beyond his role as Chief Watchman since his days in the Disciplinary Committee, the predecessor to the Disciplinary Police, was due to breaking the rules of investigation procedures--in other words, often went out of the bounds of the organization and working on his own initiative.
However, Anne, who had worked with him for a long time knew that this was sometimes effective.
This time, as he said, it was unlikely that a frontal assault would be enough.
"...I understand. Then I leave it to you, Chief Watchman. However, don't forget to report back to me on time. Got it?"
"Of course. Well then, let's get to it right away."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 3/Engine Bar
Tucked away in a corner of the Student District was an Engine Bar.
The stores interior was always filled with lively melodies unique to Southern France that flowed from a Musical Engine.
Though a bit unsuitable for quiet chats, it did make it a good place for those who want to chat without wanting to be overheard.
The number of customers were as sparse as its opening, with only one person as a table and one at the counter. Recognizing the person he was supposed to meet at the counter, JJ sat down on the stool next to them.
"I kept you waiting?"
"Not really. Haven't even finished it yet."
The female student responded by lightly raising her cocktail glass. As she said, there was only a mouthful of a pale green liquid left at the bottom of the glass.
The shop owner greeted JJ without a word, and hands him a coaster in front of him.
"Keep this one on me. Also, I'll have what she's having."
As JJ jabbed his thumb towards the girl, she finished the rest and handed the empty glass back to the owner.
"One more cup for me. Same as what he's having right now."
"Ho? You got quite the nerve to be so sly."
"Business wouldn't work if I wasn't."
Her hair swayed as she giggled. She had strong, greige-colored hair and appeared to be unable to control herself, seemingly about to let herself loose. She appeared boyish at a glance with her thin-framed glasses on her nose and a long boyish vest over her blue shirt, but on the contrary, it highlighted the feminity under her well-defined shape.
The shaking sound of a shaker began, accompanied by music.
A moment later, a cup filled with a light-green liquid was quietly held out before them. Fine pieces of ice floated to the surface, which was thin and whitish due to the bubbles.
JJ pinched the stem of the glass and pours a sip.
The cordial's sweetness was complimented by the lime's sourness. Despite it being based on low-grade alcohol for students, he could feel the pine smell and kick that was typical with gin, perhaps due to the addition of "real" ingredients used in secret.
"What's this? Is this gin and lime?"
"No, it's gimlet. I learned it from a bad senior from the same public school. True, it was something like limey that you would drink. But it's a little different from that, ain't it?"
"I don't really see the difference in these types of alcohol. Seems like something you Johnbull's would like."
"Don't call me like I'm a Brit, thank you. I told you I was born in Chicago, United States. Well, I was raised in England."
"Not much difference there. They say children take after their parents."
"Tell me about it. You know a midwife who got taken away from the United States was from France, right?"
"Ain't got no right to her to be taken from the nest of kids. Now she's got a revolution she'll be stuck with that's going to be a pain in the ass."
"They're getting their just deserts."
They sipped their drinks even while exchanging insults. After quenching their throat and tongues, JJ gets straight to the point--
"Putting aside our nonsense for now, how's the thing I asked you coming along, Ray?
I'm hoping you got what you found for the trouble of calling me over here."
It was in the afternoon, a week into the investigation that he received a call from Ray--Rachael Chandler.
She was a reporter for the 1st Newspaper Club as well as a private informant, of whom JJ was one of her customers.
"Of course. But...you sure you want me to handle this kind of case? You got a security control system in place, don't you?"
Informants like her were useful, yet they were also a double-edged sword who wouldn't reveal their cards just yet. No one but JJ, part of the Disciplinary Police would make contact with someone like that, knowing of the risks of confidential information being leaked.
"You can write whatever you like as long as we have a chance of getting this situation under control. You know what's important about it, yes?"
"I'm sure you can trust me on that."
"I would have broken off our relationship had you been such a bad shot. So what's the catch?"
"It's a moonshine line, I guarantee you. You recall the series of Major Grain warehouse fires that happened around Early Fall to Winter last year?"
The Major Grain Club, known as Bag Ten, was one of the most powerful clubs that handled most of the demand for grain within the Academia.
"Yeah. Last winter was a strange amount of it. Thanks to that, the price of bread skyrocketed...is that about it?"
"Certainly is. There was supposed to be a large stockpile of supplies in those warehouses, like wheat and barley. Matter of fact, there was a rumor saying that it was nearly empty before it caught on fire."
"You mean they burned down an entire warehouse to erase evidence of their pilferage... Seems plausible. But how accurate is this information?"
"It's what a veteran of the Health Commitee's Fire Department said. Even though the warehouse was full of grain, there was too little smoke and fire there."
"Is that so..."
His intuition as a longtime disciplinary officer told him this was a story worth believing.
Yet, at the same time, this meant that someone within the Bag Ten, a person with considerable ability, would have been cooperating with these series of crimes if it were valid.
(No. It's exactly because it's a Bag Ten.)
"So...what happened with the missing grain?"
"Nothing much as far as I know. I figure if one wants to hide some shady stuff, they'd go to the Dropout District but I haven't gotten any solid leads on it. I'll keep looking into it."
"Thanks. How much do I pay for the information?"
"Just keep it for now. I can always ask you later for payment even if it's just business. However, doing that means I need to get to the bottom of this..."
"Paying on credit is a rarity. The hell kind of stroke of luck is this?"
"Hm. That's...well..."
Ray lowered her gaze as her words slurred a little. JJ didn't recall about her being so evasive. However, he figured that she was evasive for a reason if he asked, thus he didn't bother to bring it up.
Besides, there was one other thing he wanted to ask her.
"Another thing, Ray. Is that other one behind you a friend?"
He jabs his thumb behind him at the table without looking. Sitting there was a girl younger than Ray with an air of innocence.
"Ah. You knew."
"Was it supposed to be some sort of test?"
"Not what I meant. Come here, Annabeth."
Ray twisted around on her stool and beckoned the girl to come over.
"They a new one to the Newspaper Club?"
"Not exactly. More like an intruding disciple, so to speak."
"Nice to meet you, Chief Watchman Jean Jacques. My name is Annabeth Murdoc Jr. You can call me Annabeth."
The girl steps up to the two of them upfront, and asks for a handshake with JJ.
Beneath her blond hair which had automatic steam motorcycle goggles she wore as a headband of sorts radiated a pair of pale-blueish green eyes that gave off a curious look.
"You planning to be an informant? Forget about it. It's not worth it."
JJ admonished her, ignoring her offered hand and frowning at her.
"My actual goal is to start up a detective's club. That's what I'm preparing myself for. I was researching connections to the news media, and overheard Ray opening up an informant shop on the side, so I volunteered to be an apprentice as a sort of training exercise."
"Good grief, you got a penchant for detective novels. The fact you even got to Ray's side of exchange this early in your career means it's a big deal to ya."
"I'm quite surprised myself too. Seems like you're a really good candidate for this kind of thing, and I am graduating this year so maybe you might take this up after me if you're interested?"
"True, but...they're going to need more than a quick eye to be able to do the job right."
"That's why I wanted to check in, to get a good look out of you."
"What are you..." JJ looked at Annabeth with suspicion. "So what, you were listening in as part of your training, miss...?"
"Annabeth. And I'm not asking for anything. This was the condition for my introduction. To be honest, I was interested."
The fact they were able to eavesdrop inside the store meant they had to have had either a wiretap engine or an Art.
However, he merely wanted to know whether or not she heard them.
"Hmm, guess you passed for now. You seem at least aware of the minimal rules between informants and customers."
"Really? Yes!"
"Glad you like her. Raise her well, will you?"
"Hold on a second. You want me to babysit her? She's your apprentice, isn't she?"
"You'll treat me well, right Papa?"
Annabeth smirked mischievously while hugging JJ's arm.
"Who's a papa here? Look before you go at it, I ain't old enough to have a kid!"
"You mean like a small kid? They can't be at the counter here."
"That's not what I mean! Don't be saying things like I'd agree to!"
"Oh, Papa JJ...you're so riled up..."
"I guess that's enough for an introduction. That should do it. You mind if I sit with you, JJ?"
"Tsk...do whatever you want. How long do you even plan on staying anyway?"
Annabeth let's go of JJ's arm and sits by the counter with Ray between them. JJ's pace was slightly off-course, but lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag of it made him regain his original cool expression.
"So since we've got things covered up, that means you know there's something still ongoing?"
"Yeah... You know about the Bugs Moran Family?"
"Yeah. They're one of those Illegal groups that have a stronghold in the northeastern part of the Dropout District. They're like a weak, small to mid-sized group. What about them?"
"That's outdated information. The power balance in the Dropout District has shifted drastically in the past few months. Now, Moran has taken control of the Illegals in the Dropout District from what I heard."
"What...?"
JJ always paid close attention to the Dropout District. Most of the problems that spread like an epidemic within the school came from there. No matter how careful he was, it never hurts to be too careful so he didn't expect to overlook such a serious situation.
"It's not a surprise. They were able to bring together most of the Illegals in the Dropout District under their control without any of the usual conflicts."
"That's preposterous. What sort of trick they use?"
"Rumor has it that the bosses had a peaceful meeting. It's only a rumor, but the fact is no blood was spilled is proof of this."
"I can't imagine they'd be such a privileged group to have other organizations bow to them."
Whether the Illegal group was small or large, things wouldn't be easy for everyone if one was the boss of a family. Thus, there would have been no way anyone would bow to them if they were told to be taken under their wing.
"It'd be different if it were some sort of corresponding profit incitement. Isn't it possible that the huge profits were brought upon by the moonshine in question? The moment the moonshine was assumed to have started circulating coincides with the time the Bugs Moran Family started to rapidly gain influence. That's not something that can be solved by mere coincidence."
"Perhaps...but that isn't enough."
"What'd you find out, Papa?"
With widened eyed, Annabeth leans in from behind Ray.
"Don't call me papa. And well... All of this is being said that it's for profits, but many problems can't be solved with money alone. It's going to be difficult for people to make adjustments, especially in the cramped quarters of the Dropout District so one will need to have a lot of skill to be able to convince each group without any of them losing face."
"True. If so, wouldn't that suggest that their boss, Moran, has a lot of charisma?"
Ray's voice somehow sounded shadowy. Perhaps it was the Engine Light's reflection, but her eyes radiated like that of a furnace.
"What's wrong? You seem a bit unusual there. Got a fever or something?"
Ray didn't answer the question. Instead, she looked away towards the owner who was polishing glasses behind the counter.
"...One last drink, same as before. Just the 'real' stuff."
The owner silently agrees and takes out his special London gin from the Cooler Engine, and pours it into a shaker packed tightly with ice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 4/Information Exchange
"Got it..."
Anne's voice came back from the other side of the Engine Phone that sounded like she was satisfied. After coming back from the Engine Bar, JJ had compiled all the information he had acquired and reported it to Anne.
"Whatever may have happened to the raw distributed materials, it doesn't mean necessarily mean it's the Dropout District."
"Hum? What do you mean?"
"Whether it's brewing or distilling, those require proper equipment. The smell of fermented alcohol isn't going to be so easily hidden. If one wanted to build something in a poorly constructed place in the Underground Dropout District, it's easier to use something that already exists and it's less traceable. If the main grain club were involved, it's doubtful the others are involved."
"I see...like hiding a tree in a forest. Surely, there's more than one or two science clubs that own a distillery plant."
"That it is. Besides, if the Transportation Committee were involved, someone from there would needed to move around the school confidentially without looking suspicious. Raw materials and finished products can be taken in and out at will."
"But if this is true, then we don't have much of a shot at this. We can't inspect all of the trucks driving around the school, and it'll be difficult to place a raid on a distillation plant without clear evidence."
"Well, it's just my speculation. Though if I were to be in their shoes, I'd have created a system for that."
A small sigh could be faintly heard over the Engine Phone from Anne.
Were they have sufficient manpower, they would have been able to get some clues by sending in some investigators to a possible distillery. But as things stand, it wasn't likely for Dorset to increase the number of personnel.
This was especially true with unofficial information coming from an informant being their basis of reasoning.
"So how's it coming along? Especially on the investigation?"
"In the early days, boarding and disembarking were all concentrated in the former Independent Student Area station--in other words, the Dropout District. It's certain that the places where moonshine was served were limited in the Dropout District at the time."
"Hm...then that means things are different nowadays?"
"Yes. About two months back, the target's steps began to spread into the Student District. Though it's not much, there's a quantity that can be seen where moonshine is being served that's beginning to spread beyond the Dropout District."
(Good grief...it's already been started...have to end this soon)
The situation was far more serious than expected.
The enemy had control over one of the Academia's most prominent clubs, has taken control of most of the Dropout District, and is currently trying to expand its influence into the Student District once more.
"Is there anything else that can used as a clue?"
"Yes, right. The Health Commission reported some worrisome cases among hospitalized patients. I met with some of them during the day."
"...What'd you find out?"
"Their physical symptoms are certainly that from severe alcoholism, but they didn't respond to any external calls. I once met with an alcoholic who was semi-crippled but said some incoherent words and started to act violently. The patient in question also looked different."
"Hm...?"
"That's right...I don't like making such an analogy, but it was as if their soul was possessed by some sort of magic or something."
"Could this also have been the effects of the moonshine?"
"That's a high possibility. When I contacted other hospitals, they had many similar patients. There's also the possibility of an Art being involved in this case, so a detailed examination and diagnostic for Art is now being carried out in the main hospital. The results should follow by then. How about it, Chief Watchman? Want to join me on this?"
"No. I need some confirmation regarding the relationship between the moonshine and the Moran Family. I'm going to do a little exploring in the Dropout District."
He needed a firsthand scene of moonshine being served to its customers.
It was still early in the evening. If anything, the Dropout District was about to reach its peak. There were probably many taverns with customers looking for entertainment.
"Hold on. If it's true that the Bugs Moran Family has assembled an Illegal student group, the danger itself would be incomparable. I won't allow you to investigate on your own."
Even in the year 1906, Illegal groups were powerful, making it difficult for the Disciplinary Police to enter the Dropout District. Moreover, it would be highly dangerous if these groups were unified.
"I'll come back. I won't do anything rash. It's not like I haven't done anything for these ten years. I'll contact you again. Later."
"Wait, Chief Watchman--!"
He ends the Engine Phone's line without letting her finish her words.
He was always prone to acting on his own, but he surely wouldn't be making such rash moves under any normal circumstances. What drove him was his frustration at the situation worsening by the minute, his frustration at the investigation system he was forced to follow, and his frustration at his own fault for overlooking the shift in power in the Dropout District.
Perhaps it was even Ray's inexplicit obsession with the Bugs Moran Family that she showed him earlier that was behind this.
However, he had no intentions of boarding a street locomotive while dressed as a Disciplinary Officer.
Buying a worn-out trench coat from a secondhand store in the Student District, he hands over his government-issued uniform and equipment that could compromise his status to the Disciplinary Police town branch, and heads over to the nearest tram station.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 5/Dropout District
In a corner of that corner, in the dimly-lit underground streets of the Dropout District.
At the end of a labyrinth reminiscent of catacombs--
--A young man called out to him, his back leaning against a wall.
"Mister Monsieur. Never expected to see you in a place like this."
It was a young man in a pure white coat, with its open collar revealing an olive-colored vest and white tie. It was obvious even in the darkness of the alley, with its equally competent feature being no less than top quality.
"This very depth is the snowdrift of the Academia. It isn't a place no sane person should be here unless they're aware of its dark side."
There wasn't anything vulgar about them, whether it was from their perfectly combed long hair or their demeanor and tone.
(He ain't nothing like any punk from the Violating Student Groups, nor he's got the air of an Art Student trained from youthhood. They don't even have that unique feel that comes with these kinds of people. However--)
There was a dignified personality that made them reminiscent of an aristocrat.
"If I say it back at you, that means you're one of them?"
"Naturally. None of us who call this home are an exception."
The handsome mane's face had a grim shade of resignation for some reason.
There was a force that had its own base in the Dropout District aside from the Illegal groups. That being--
"I heard there was someone among the know who is a part of the Revolutionary Students. You happen to be one of them?"
"Seems like you're a new customer. The kind of information from me is expensive, yet its reliability is low. It means it's not very accurate, yet you still want it?"
It wasn't like he came into the Dropout District blindly. He had heard from Ray that there was an informant deep within the Dropout District, a rumor that he would appear in a back alley around here, and it seems he was the guy in question.
"I'm looking for a shop owned by the Bugs Moran Family. Nothing about anything that just joined up with them yesterday or today, just a place that could be called like an old home."
The man's eyes narrowed upon being told of this information by JJ.
"Seems like I got myself a rare guest tonight. You from the Disciplinary Police?"
"Good grief. Didn't expect to be seen through so easily like this."
He chuckled as he fanned in the inside of his trenchcoat, "Was it my fault for not hiding this guy's elegance?" was what he would have said but he stopped himself.
It was ridiculous for him to such a thing to the young man.
"I will say, your appearance and tone is fiting for this District."
As someone who hadn't touched anything other than the coat, he had mixed feelings about that.
"That kinda stings. Guess I'll need to know how you knew for future reference."
"Nobody in the Dropout District ever asks for info about Moran anymore. Most of the areas besides ours are in his hands, after all. All that's left is the authorities, though it seems like you're the only one from them who'd want to negotiate with us."
"I see. I suppose you wouldn't sell information to a Disciplinary dog?"
"No. Unless it's against my comrade's interests, I don't choose business partners. Especially if your purpose is with that Moran Family."
"Seems like they're a pain in the ass even for you revolutionary students."
"It's not as though we wish to destroy the school order. The power he possesses is far too dangerous for the school."
"Is that so? If so, then you going to tell me the most important piece?"
"You'll want to head over to 'Moriarty's Shop' in the back of the Northeast 18th block. Can't guarantee that, of course."
"Hmm, Moriarty came from Moran?"
That was surely the name of a villain shrouded in secrecy from the autobiography novels of the great British detective, Sherlock Holmes.
"In other words, that is a den for people who make this sort of false bad taste?"
The young man's expression broke for the first time as he gave a bitter smile upon understanding those words meaning.
"No. The owner's name is Jim Moriarty. Like Moran, he came from the United States. They're both Irish immigrants."
"Irish immigrants..."
Among the United States immigrants, they were said to be as hot-blooded and militant as the Sicilians. It was rumored that it wasn't uncommon for groups to get into bloody encounters in the United States, and to slaughter whole groups.
"At least I can use my head to probe into this. What's the information fee?"
"Three gold pieces...is what I would say. But I'll settle for one."
"Really? You even guessed how much I had."
JJ pulls out a golden ticket of his precious savings from inside his coat, and hands it over to the young man. The young man switches positions and places something in his hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you. May I never see you again."
JJ turned his back and was on his way from where he came from--
"...You should probably watch your back, not just from the Moran Family."
--And the young informant sent meaningful advice to him.
"You're one strange fellow. What good is it for you to give advice to a disciplinary dog?"
"I have a principle for valuing customers. Just so long as they don't go against my comrade's interest, of course."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 6/Recollection: Rachel Chandler
Every time I drink the "real" alcohol, I would always recall those days.
I, Rachel Chandler, was born in an Irish immigrant neighborhood in Chicago, United States.
The city was perpetually dark and smelled like bells.
My father was the son of Irish immigrants, and my mother was a woman who recently immigrated to the U.S. from Ireland.
I recall my father was in a privileged position among the immigrants due to having worked as a railway engineer. My father was the epitome of hard work, honesty, and duty as was said, but I never seen him like that.
Perhaps it was because of his deep responsibility that he was rarely seen at home, and every once in a while when I do see him, he was always drunk.
He was an awful man with a drinking habit. When he drink, he gets violent as though he was venting something out that normally would be suppressed.
One day, my father started coming into the house. I never asked mother why but it seemed that his drinking habit started to become apparent.
From that point on, my father's violence against my mother became a daily occurrence. All I could have done is sit in a corner of the room, shivering and waiting for the storm to pass.
However, the storm never passed no matter how long I waited.
I had a boy as a childhood friend. He would always comfort me whenever I was scared of the violence my father had inflicted on my mother to the point I could only breathe and cry.
He was from a poor family in an immigrant town and always wore tattered clothes, yet his blue eyes always seemed to radiate brighter than anything in this town.
Maybe that's what I came to like about him as a kid.
Then...the day of parting came.
When I turned seven, my father's fist finally turned to me.
I was being beaten by my father that day when he was suffering from dementia on the street. He, too, had just came by and lunged at my father.
"Don't hit Ray!"
It wasn't much of a surprise for him as an adult to be affected, even as the kid used their whole body to lunge at him. Even if he was drunk...
"What does it matter to you? What's wrong with me hitting my own brat?"
Father's eyes, which were red with bloodlust, looked at the boy that clung to his waist.
"A man that beats up his own kid is worth trash! And you're that kind of man!"
"What does it matter to you when it's my own brat I can beat!?"
The next moment, father's fist swung mercilessly. Neither I nor mother were able to to go against father when he was drunk so perhaps he was too angry.
"Father, stop! Hit me instead!"
I desperately tried to hold onto him to get him to stop. But my father, completely lost in his rage, never stopped.
"Stop it! George is going to die!"
That moment, someone had heard the commotion and came to grab my father's wrist. The next moment, something flashed brightly and I had to close my eyes on instinct.
A moment later, I open them to see my father having fallen to the ground, his body trembling as though he was under stress.
I didn't remember who had helped us, but it looked as though he wore pure white clothes...that was the only impression I had that reminded in my heart.
Perhaps I had lost consciousness then, but my memory had stopped there.
That was the last time I saw my father and my childhood friend George.
Next thing I knew when I woke up, I was on a train. Mother had taken this chance to escape that night. I asked her about George's safety, and she told me that his mother had taken him home due to being in a coma.
I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye or thank him.
However, I knew my father would have acted upon us had we waited too long. Our lives would have been in danger if we did so my mother's judgment was correct.
We went to my mother's uncle's home in England and though we got accepted in, I continued to live in a depressed state.
Then, when I got enrolled in a boarding school, I felt liberated from everything. I felt grateful to my mother, who worked hard so hard to pay for my tuition fees, and managed to enjoy my school life despite feeling guilty of being the only one who got in for free.
Graduation was approaching, and I felt anxious about my future when a miracle occurred. Yes, I was invited to the Marseille Offshore Academia.
It had been a while since entering the school. Before I knew it, I was completely taken into the taste of alcohol by a bad senior who I went to the same boarding school to.
After all, I was my father's kid.
I thought I hated alcohol more than anyone, but I couldn't keep away from it.
I would always tilt my cup as though I was looking for a memory that was forgotten.
No, it was something else. What I wanted to remember was that radiance.
That faint indigo that was the only treasure in that gray city.
While working as an informant in the new department to send money over to my mother, I later came upon the name of the Bugs Moran Family.
One of the Illegal groups in the Dropout District.
Soon after, I discovered it originated from an Irish immigrant neighborhood in Chicago. If I wanted to find out where he was, I could do it. I had the time on my hands.
But I didn't want to.
What if it was really "him"?
I didn't want those eyes to lose their radiance.
No. It had to be someone else.
I didn't want to show it, but I had become addicted to alcohol just like my father.
And yet...
Why was I here in the Dropout District?
"George...is that really you?"
George Clarance Moran. That was my childhood friend's name.
I walked through an alleyway, looking for someone who might know where he is.
"Miss Mademoiselle. I didn't expect to see someone like you here."
She heard a young man's voice from the darkness.
"That is, unless you're aware of its dark side. So...what of you?"
When she stared into the darkness, she spots a young man in a white coat standing there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scene 7/Speakeasy
In a deserted back alley with no outside light in the depths of the Dropout District was the entrance of the Speakeasy, "Moriarty's Shop".
The only thing that could barely be seen from the alley was the reflected light from the Engine Lights that brightly colored the main street. If someone didn't know of the stop's existence, they'd think they ran into a dead end and return the way they came in.
However, if one looked closely, they would have noticed black iron fences lining along the wall at the back of the alleyway.
Descending down the iron steps surrounded by the iron fences, he was immediately met with a thick iron door. He didn't notice it at first, but a small Engine Light was barely flickering on the side.
(Hmm...it's something.)
As soon as JJ knocked on the door, a peephole slides open where a pair of eyes appeared from the gap. He realized the Engine Light on the side wasn't for welcoming guests, but to make them out. If they were uninvited guests, the door would remain closed.
"I cam from the Irish Street in Chicago to meet a friend."
Soon as JJ spoke those words, the peephole closed shut.
(Did they catch onto my lie?)
He felt a chill for a moment, but then heard the sound of the door being opened where he felt a sign of relief. Seems as though he got the right sign to enter the shop.
When he paid the young man with the banknote, a small note given to him in exchange had the coordinates to the shop as well as a code attached to it.
The iron door opens with a heavy sound, and a strong-looking man who seemed to be the bodyguard appears. After a simple run down of his possessions, he was led in with the iron door closing behind him.
"Sit wherever you wish."
It was a very small shop that had only six seats at the counter.
It seemed like a modest point for the Bugs Moran Family that now leads an Illegal student group in the Dropout District.
But this was the Family's own vessel up until a few months back.
There were two customers ahead of him, who seem to be Illegals that hang out in the area. JJ took one empty spot between them.
"What can I do for you?"
A short man asked him in a heavy Irish accent from behind the counter. He had to be Jim Moriarty, the shop's owner.
"Whiskey. You can recommend the brand."
An empty cup was placed in front of him as a large quantity of brown liquid with a simple label on it was poured into it. Maybe he stopped at the wrong time or that was how the shop operates, but the overflowing alcohol soaked the counter.
"This Irish?"
"I'd like to say it is, but it's French, unfortunately."
There were many brands of whisky made in France, but many of them were unknown to the world. In other words, this probably meant it was made within the school.
That being said, it was probably the actual moonshine he was looking for.
"What brand is this?"
"It's Moonshine."
"Don't think I've ever seen the moon in my entire life. You sure this is the color?"
The moon had long since disappeared from the night sky due to the soot and smoke brought about by the Industrial Revolution. Recently, there had been sightings of a Gap that appear in parts of Mega Engine Cities and it was said that only certain conditions have to be met for it to be seen. But to the average person, it was nothing more than an imaginary existence.
"Come on. If no one hasn't seen it before, no one would complain about its color."
"I see. Well, your words won me over."
He gave a wry smile as to continue the conversation and picks up the glass.
Bringing it close to nose, he inspects the aroma. The aroma of the keg was shut in, almost like it were raw alcohol which gave off the impression that it wasn't aged well. It was likely the addition of caramel that was the reason for its dark coloration, a common trick for cheap alcohol.
"You the kind who drinks alcohol with the head or nose there, boss?"
"Just been a while since I've had 'real' alcohol'. Give me a moment to take it in slowly."
As soon as he tried to place it to his lips, all of his senses flared up from a strong sense of discomfort.
(This..so it was black, after all?)
One could say this was a sense of smell he acquired while working as a Disciplinary Officer for many years. Just as ordinary people can sometimes sense the gaze of others, he could occasionally sense the presence of an Art.
It was perhaps a sort of sixth sense he got, sensing something specific to Art thanks to the Portale Art Detector provided by the Dept. of Advanced Science and Technology.
"What's wrong? Something wrong with the alcohol?"
"...No. I apologize for you pouring me this, but I got a little business to take care of. I'll fish you a tip. Keep it."
He slides three pieces of silver on the counter and gets up from his seat.
"Whoa, hang on there. Why don't you take your time?"
Jim grinned from behind the counter.
"That'd be such a waste. Why don't you just down it?"
"How about we give you a hand?"
The two customers who were there hanging at the counter stood up and walked around to surround him.
"Yeah, Boss Jean Jacques. The eternal Chief Watchman JJ, ain't it?"
"Tch!?"
How could they have known about him in advance? The first thing that came to mind was the young informant selling him out, but he quickly denied it. He never told him his name, and there wasn't anything of worth if he had sell him out to such a hostile force.
Evenmore, he felt a sense of groundless trust in the young man not doing such a thing to him.
"...You should probably watch your back, not just from the Moran Family."
Scene 8/Prisoner
Scene 9/Questioning
Scene 10/Recollection: George Clarance Moran
Scene 11: Blue Moon
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