act21side

Why do you carry it with you?

It's a physical manifestation of my contradictions. The suitcase was a gift from my mother when I got into university.

I don't have any ties to my family anymore, but I still carry this suitcase with me at all times.

Everything I am was taught to me by Agnese. She asked me not to forget her.

Agnese would hate you.

That's not necessarily true.

But in any case, Lunacub, thank you.

I suppose this is where we should part ways. I think we won't see each other again for a very long time.

Do you really have to live here?

I do. As for you, I think you've already figured out what comes next, yes?

...I will come see you.

Some may interpret this as a farewell scene, of the younger generation sending the older to prison.

Go, Lunacub. Best of luck on your hunt.

I hope... I hope you...

Just hope that life overcomes me sooner rather than later.

After coming to understand who I am, the audience may want to ask if I hold the same attitude toward Leontuzzo and Sicilia.

My answer to this is, undoubtedly, yes.

As members of the human population, we are required to celebrate everything that we have created. Otherwise, we would be denying our history.

To avoid Catastrophes, we constructed nomadic cities.

To better our lives, our technology advances with each passing day.

To better become a collective, we iterate upon our societal structure and methods of managing it.

As members of the human collective, we accept that all this is to be appreciated.

Subconsciously, we come to believe that we are worthy of better, more humane, more orderly, more equal lives.

One might even plausibly conclude that a vast majority of conflicts in the world are not collisions between justice and evil.

But rather, from my good being better than your good.

However, is that truly the case?

How far have we stepped from the wastes? How far apart are we from the beasts?

In which direction are we headed?

The wheels of history push us forward without leaving any time for contemplation.

But, beneath all of that, as a human—

I must believe that the emotions I feel at any given moment are genuine, and come from the heart.

Therefore, Rubio, Danbrown, Leontuzzo, Lavinia, and even Sicilia at the moment she decided to unite the famiglie—

Though their motives and objectives are all different, they deserve my admiration all the same.

Of course, none of that has anything to do with why I showed up on the streets of Nuova Volsinii.

And now, I must make an addendum to the question of my identity.

My primary source of income is writing for art publications, which obviously leaves much to be desired financially.

And as we speak, the privilege of living in the new city is being bought up rapidly. Naturally, this is of no concern to me.

However, be it from an artistic standpoint or in consideration of what is to come, moving to Nuova Volsinii is a much better option.

So, I'm currently exploring my options.

For example — finding a hole beneath a bridge in Nuova Volsinii.

You could've just told me that I shouldn't be sleeping in the park.

But in the end, didn't you also find a hole under a bridge?

What I taught you was the rules.

And I couldn't care less about the rules.

Then, why do you want me to follow the rules?

Because you can't break the rules until you know what they are.

But in any case, Lunacub, thank you.

I suppose this is where we should part ways. I think we won't see each other again for a very long time.

Do you really have to live here?

I do. As for you, I think you've already figured out what comes next, yes?

...I will come see you.

Some may interpret this as a farewell scene, of the younger generation sending the older to prison.

Go, Lunacub. Best of luck on your hunt.

I hope... I hope you...

Just hope that life overcomes me sooner rather than later.

Already done washing my car? You work pretty quick.

It's how I put food on the table.

Not because I'm your last customer of the day, and you want to go home soon?

Wanna see for yourself?

Hmph, unsociable fella, aren't you?

Have a nice day.

He walks to the back of the carwash and lies down on the bed.

A dream.

Zzz......

The carwash worker dreams of a job he did.

Blood and water mix into one and flow into the sewer. The beastlings inside feast joyously, until they flop onto their bellies and die in the ditch.

He holds a knife in his hand, the blade warmed by the blood coating it. How many did he have to slash for it to reach this temperature? The question does not trouble him too much—he only wants to hold it aloft again, using it in the most straightforward manner, using it with the most gratuitous violence.

Now, this is Siracusa! This is what Siracusa should be!

He lifts his knife. His next target—

He suddenly sits up straight. There is nothing in his hand, only the light from the half-moon leaking from the gap between the houses outside his window, shining into his eyes.

He reminisces about what he saw in the dream.

Boss, hit me with two more bottles.

You're gonna keep going? Looks like we've got a discussion on the floor here today.

The boss shifts his gaze to the side, gesturing to a table in the corner.

I normally wouldn't mind you getting a bit rowdy when you're drunk, but how about heading back home early this time?

Those guys?

They're not gonna start a fight.

They're just gonna have their little back-and-forth on top of the table, and then one of 'em will slink away with his tail between his legs.

So, we're done talking here, huh?

That's right.

I remember saying before that I never do anything without a plan.

A number of patrons pull weapons concealed in their coats and swing them at their counterparts sitting across the table. The boss quickly retracts the bar and pulls up a repurposed partition in front of him.

The carwash worker remains in his seat, squinting through drunken eyes at the two groups of mafiosi who just started fighting inside the bar.

In the middle of the brawl, he suddenly bursts into applause.

Hahahahaha!

Hahaha! Bravo!

You, pipe down over there!

Perfect! This is what I wanted to see!

His head tilts back as he leans into his seat, closing his eyes contentedly as he drifts into sleep.

'Like the label on this wine. Slap it on something, and you're free to feed on the people whom you've fooled.' ...?

Where are you going?

Nowhere in particular.

I'd like to go see another opera.

Will you understand it this time?

That's not it.

What you said. I want to give it a try.

Did I say something?

You still remember after all.

Hmm, I'm afraid you'll have to put some more thought into this. But even if you figure it out, what good will that do?

What are you calling me out in broad daylight for?