Tytania:Volume 1 Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Leaping from a Dead End

I

There was in fact absolutely no reason to overestimate Fan Hyulick’s political convictions. It wasn’t for the sake of principles or ideas that he was brought to rebel against Tytania’s oppressive rule but because of his temperament. This was, of course, a rather simplified way of putting it, but one cannot ignore the impact on history that Fan Hyulick’s temperament had, namely his aversion to subordination.

Until his mid-twenties, there was no trace of such a temperament in Fan Hyulick. He was a perfectly ordinary clerk that served on merchant ships or kontors, doing desk work or attending after travellers in the way his superiors had instructed. It was evident from his life’s trajectory that he wasn’t biding his time with grand ambitions after his return from the Tytanian detention centre and his enlistment in the City Fleet. He had no intentions of actually becoming a soldier.

Military talent is maybe one of the hardest of human talents to uncover. An artist may leave behind him tangible works of creativity and gain posthumous fame that eluded him in life. But what about military talent? A man who was hailed in times of war as a peerless general might in times of peace end up as an incompetent, mediocre official. An outstanding person who could have become a fleet admiral might end up earning a meagre pittance selling hot dogs in the back streets.

In that sense, Fan Hyulick might be called a fortunate man. His talent lay in military affairs, and he indeed had no other talent of note. He didn’t harbour any ideals about alternative ways of life or professions either. If he hadn’t failed in his attempt to desert and hadn’t been thrown into his homecity’s army, it is highly likely that he would have led an unproductive life. Obviously, whether it would have been a source of happiness or misfortune from his perspective is an entirely different matter.

It was true that Fan Hyulick always had a natural tendency to rebel against overwhelming authority, which was fuelled further by bitter experiences that led him to develop a thoroughly contrarian attitude by the age of 28. That was evident from the way he used Weigert cannons, which was simply impossible for someone with conventional thinking and lacked the critical thought to assess the status quo and bring reform.

At the Battle of Cerberus, Fan Hyulick dealt a defeat to the previously undefeated Tytania. The victorious city of Euria utterly failed to realise that this act had “kicked away the pillow of a sleeping history” and was instead consumed by fear of Tytania’s strength and banished Fan Hyulick who had been the architect of their victory. Far from leading to a strategic victory for Euria, the colourful triumph of the carrot-headed young man had, in fact, the opposite effect.

Had the city of Euria appointed Fan Hyulick with the intention of defeating Tytania and tried to capitalise on that tactical victory to achieve diplomatic strategy, it would have played a significant role in the subsequent course of space history. But the reality is that the name of the city of Euria would be buried in the sands of history only to be marginally remembered as Fan Hyulick’s birthplace.

Well now, Mr Fan Hyulick, an unemployed person on the run, spent the first half of June on planet Ementhal. That wasn’t because he had taken a fancy to the place, but because of His Grace Count Arses Tytania, a powerful figure on that planet, who had stationed men in grey uniforms at key locations, including the spaceport, to ensure he couldn’t leave the planet.

In the end, it was a young woman by the name of Lira Florentz who took in this homeless and unemployed carrot-headed youth. Having realised that she was backed by an anti-Tytania underground movement, Fan Hyulick tried to distance himself from her, but once photos of the tall carrot-head youth had been distributed to hotels and appeared on TV screens, he found himself a sudden celebrity with nowhere to go.

Furthermore, and importantly, Lira’s talent lay in making omelettes. The herb omelette he tasted in the morning after his first overnight stay was absolutely fabulous. More precisely, it suited Fan Hyulick’s palate perfectly. And so, it was her omelettes that ultimately persuaded him to stay.

Lira’s grandmother was said to have once served the Princess of Casabianca as her lady-in-waiting. Though she may once have been a graceful courtier, today she was an old woman with lifeless skin and weathered like old oil paper and appeared to be half-fossilised.

She tried to produce to her guest a stereograph of her in her youth, but Fan Hyulick politely declined. If she looked in that photo exactly as Lira did now, it would remove any dreams and hopes he had.

The old woman then tried to appeal to his ears rather than his eyes. She tried to capture his interest with tales of the days of yore.

“Back when I was a lady-in-waiting, you know, …”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested in things that date back to the time dinosaurs were alive.”

Fan Hyulick wasn’t entirely devoid of the common virtue of respecting the elders, but he had no interest at all in the courtiers' life on what he arbitrarily decided was some small frontier principality. His interests only lay in two things: the taste of Lira’s omelettes and when he might be able to leave this unpleasant planet arrogantly ruled by Arses Tytania. He wasn’t really in the mood to make the best of living reluctantly in hiding.

He considered Lira to be a diamond in the rough that would shine if polished, as her rhythmic movements and lively facial expressions were extremely attractive, but she kind of lacked a certain allure. As for her grandmother, it was just unthinkable.

In other words, Fan Hyulick’s life in hiding was lacking emotional depth, though he wasn’t sure if such a thing as an emotionally filled life in hiding even existed. Still better than life in the Tytanian detention camp, he thought. Food was good, and he could stretch on the sofa bed. He could take a shower and stay clean. At first, he was reasonably satisfied, but he lately began to feel that his sense of confinement from a mental point of view might actually be more severe than during his time in the detention camp.

Ementhal was a wealthy place, and outside, there were women and drinks fluttering their wings to entice men. If he were inclined to do so, he would have no problems finding pleasures. Fan Hyulick was more than willing, had funds to buy these pleasures, and yet was locked in a shabby apartment in the lower districts, unable to go out. Arses Tytania was certainly no miser, since he had placed a bounty of 100,000 dakars on the unemployed youth’s head and was on the lookout for him.

Fan Hyulick felt like holding himself by the scruff of the neck and walking towards Tytania, demanding, “Here, hand over the 100,000 dakars.” It wasn’t even a great joke, but what shocked Fan Hyulick was the reaction of Lira’s grandmother when she heard about the sun of 100,000 dakars. The half-fossilised-looking old woman looked like her eyes buried in wrinkles were glistening like fake jewels. However, the glimmer immediately faded, leaving him to wonder if it had been a mere illusion.

He also met Lira’s acquaintance. Or would it be more accurate to call him a comrade? He was told that he was the child of the orphaned son of the former Minister of Finance and Economy of the Principality of Casabianca.

In other words, Fan Hyulick concluded that they were simply the second-generation children of those who used to live in the principality, who were now fancying themselves as revolutionaries. He could think of no other explanation.

This second-generation child, Florimond de Boer, was a man in his early thirties and the very stereotype of a scholar in the bad sense of the word. He prioritised theory over reality and refused to acknowledge the existence of vested interests. Since his theory wasn’t about humans but only the restoration of the Principality of Casabianca, Fan Hyulick wanted to sneer at him. He himself was a clear-cut advocate of quantitative vitality whenever it came to nations and organisations and believed that rebuilding a fallen country was going against the flow of history.

“Still, the Tytania clan has quite the line-up of handsome men. I wonder if good looks are a prerequisite to being a ruler?”

Considering this to be the root of evil in Tytania, Fan Hyulick glared intently at the three-dimensional photographs of the Clanner and the Four Dukes that de Boer had brought with him.

Among them, Jouslain Tytania gave less of an impression, though he certainly could be considered a handsome man. He wasn’t comparable to Fan Hyulick, who is bordering on the line. Still, Fan Hyulick’s tastes differed entirely from those of Count Arses Tytania, and the presence of many handsome men didn’t particularly please him. He voiced his concerns aloud.

“So, any three-dimensional pictures of Tytanian ladies?”

‘None’ was the unequivocal answer. The reason, he was told, was that not even the Tytania clan would target women in terror acts. Fan Hyulick could only mutter, “Ha, I see.” While he shared the views of his discussion partner that women shouldn’t be the target of terrorism, he was still interested in them as objects of aesthetic appreciation or physical contact.

De Boer launched a passionate speech while Fan Hyulick looked at the stereoscopic picture. Over 99% went through one ear and left through the other, completely bypassing Fan Hyulick’s brain, but in a nutshell, he was requesting Fan Hyulick’s assistance to restore his principality. Though he had a reservation or two, Fan Hyulick remained silent, not wishing to be mistaken for showing interest.

De Boer seemed to be the kind of man who spoke his mind without hesitation. Or maybe it was all an act. There was fact, perception of fact, and how to express that perception. It was rare for the three to coincide perfectly without any discrepancy.

Pretending to gaze at the stereoscopic picture, Fan Hyulick was observing de Boer while examining his thoughts in his mind. He had already reached something resembling a conclusion. Fan Hyulick couldn’t bring himself to trust as a comrade a person who, on their first meeting, would launch a five-page monologue like the character of some cheap novel. If it were an act, he couldn’t trust him emotionally, and if it were his true nature, he couldn’t trust his capabilities. There were probably a hundred million times more revolutions in rhetoric than there were actual revolutions.

Eventually, de Boer’s tongue, which had boasted of its driving force, grew weary and ceased to wave, so Fan Hyulick calmly informed him that he had no interest in restoring a principality. Upon that, de Boer’s tongue started moving again:

“But if we stand idle and let Tytania’s rise pass us by, we’d be nothing but imbeciles.”

“Nothing but imbeciles. Still better than harmful imbeciles.”

It goes without saying that it was sarcasm. But Fan Hyulick was exasperated to see de Boer lost in deep thought, as if he had been presented with a deep philosophical declaration. His following advice was, as far as he was concerned, motivated by nothing but good intentions.

“You guys aren’t cut out for revolution or rebellion. It’s not as if you were living in poverty, right? Stop dreaming about principalities and ministers, and just get on with your lives. This planet is, after all, one of the most comfortable in the universe.”

That sermon was out of character for him. But his conversation partner remained entirely unconvinced.

II

A kind of turning point occurred in the monotonous life of the young unemployed Mr Fan Hyulick on the 16th of June.

He couldn’t remain trapped forever in the low district of Ementhal. He decided to approach small- and medium-size shipping companies that weren’t under the influence of Tytania to ask them to take him somewhere.

For now he thought about going to Bargash, the transport hub start system of the frontier, and then decided what to do next.

Fan Hyulick had told de Boer that Ementhal was a comfortable planet to live on, but it was only true when one’s freedom of movement was guaranteed. When confined to a room, there was little difference between Ementhal and the hold of a cargo ship.

“Thanks for all. I’m leaving,” declared Fan Hyulick to the young landlady in a matter-of-fact tone, seeing no point in pretending to be a poet at that point.

He handed over 2,000 dakars to Lira as payment for accommodation for the last sixteen nights, including three meals a day and a shower. He wondered whether it wasn’t too much, but decided it would be alright if it went towards the young girl’s make-up. Lira started intently at the carrot-top young man without even attempting to take the four large banknotes.

“What do you intend to do from now on? Do you have some place you need to go?”

“There has to be some room in this universe for an extra unemployed person. Anyway, there is nothing left for me to do on Ementhal.”

Since Fan Hyulick was originally from the Interstellar City League, he might be able to reach a kontor and sort things out. Assuming he paid a proper fare, he was likely to find a ship willing to take him aboard.

Even if he didn’t travel as a passenger, he could, for instance, be hired as a clerk on a cargo ship. Although he was the commander of the Euria City for about three months, he hadn’t exactly been basking in glory and splendour, so going back to being a mere clerk didn’t bother him the slightest. Anyway, he couldn’t have endured a long period of court service, and once he reached a suitable planet, he would simply jump ship.

It looked like the number of people who were chasing the dream of his 100,000 dakar bounty was swindling. It was time to attempt running away. He would stay the night and slip away the next morning, blending in with a crowd of commuters. That was what Fan Hyulick declared.

“I won’t forget the taste of your omelettes. You’re a very good cook, so you should give up on that backwards dream about rebuilding that Principality of yours and find yourself a decent man to marry, ok?”

“Decent” was an embarrassing word to use, but since he had no intention of elaborating, it should suffice.

Thus, Fan Hyulick intended to spend his last night in Ementhal in peace. It was his intention, but events wouldn’t unfold according only to his wishes.

That night Fan Hyulick arranged his entire set of travelling gear at the foot of the sofa bed, displaying every part of his nature as a miser, and wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down in a peaceful garden of dreams. His consciousness drifted along the boundary between dream and reality and eventually sank and swayed beneath the surface of his dreams. It should have continued to sink but instead rose rapidly as warm, elastic, and plentiful organic matter leant against him.

Fan Hyulick blinked as he placed his palm on the form next to him and hastily withdrew it. It was a young woman’s breast, wrapped in the thin fabric of a négligé. In the dim light, the unemployed youth recognised Lira’s features. In contrast to the softness of her body, he was met with her stern expression and firm voice.

“Fan, do with me as you please.”

“Hey, wait a minute. Calm down. What’s going on?”

Though Fan Hyulick was no saint, as he previously mentioned, he didn’t trust blindly in luck or beautiful women. And when both occurred simultaneously, his suspicions clad in vivid colours began to dance as he wondered what was lying beneath the surface.

“I like you. That’s all.”

“That’s the kind of line that makes one drown in tears of gratitude. You’re a lovely girl, but you have no talent as an actress. Your grandma put that idea in your head, didn’t she?”

“…”

“Go on, tell me. What comes next depends on this. I don’t want to be poisoned just because I’m hungry.”

With a sigh, Lira stepped back and muttered:

“It’s the princess’ orders.”

That alone didn’t make much sense. As Fan Hyulick frowned, Lira began to give a quick explanation.

The sole heir to the Principality of Casabianca was Her Highness Princess Miranda, and a few days ago, de Boer paid her a visit to report on the current state of the Principality’s restoration movement. That being said, he could only report on his unconvincing attempts at trying to persuade Fan Hyulick to join their side. Upon hearing that Fan Hyulick remained completely unmoved by their plight and would leave Ementhal the next day, Her Highness Princess Miranda instructed Lira to attempt a last resort to win him over.

“So, in order to win over the perverted bastard Fan Hyulick, that princess of yours told you to sacrifice your virginity?”

“She didn’t call you perverted, though.”

“All the same. She thinks I’m an idiot.”

Fan Hyulick was infuriated in many ways. It annoyed him to be seen as a man whose resolve could be shaken by feminine charms, though it was half-true. And there was another reason that was more important.

“You know, Lira, loyalty is all fine and dandy, but you need to discern the principle of the thing. If your princess wants to win me over with charm, she should sacrifice her own chastity. She’s offering you as a human sacrifice in her stead.”

“That’s…”

“I like women. And money too, and alcohol even more. And if some bad guy suffers some misfortune, even better.”

Realising he was getting off track, he steered the conversation back on course.

“Anyway, I’m not so boorish that I’d mess with other people’s love affairs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re seeing de Boer, aren’t you? I can’t say I’m fond of that guy, but I’m not trying to actively harm him either. You don’t need to do this for him; just look after yourself for your own sake, ok?”

Under the dim light, Lira was visibly blushing. After a few seconds of silence, as the two were about to speak at the same time, a sound came from outside the room. The floor creaked, and then the door creaked, and light and shadow burst into their view.

Just as Lira leapt back and Fan Hyulick sprang to his feet, a sharp command echoed through the room. What froze the unemployed youth in his tracks wasn’t as much the voice itself as the metallic clang of what looked like firearms. In the orange glow of the lighting, shadows of men from Tytania who should have been here were cast across the room.

“Good, they are here as the old woman said.”

As the men in grey military uniforms nodded to one another, another figure, that of a former lady-in-waiting of the Principality of Casabianca, spoke with a voice hoarse with greed.

“Dear soldiers of Tytania, I can expect my reward, right?”

“Come tomorrow to the residence of His Grace the Count Arses Tytania. You shall be paid 100,000 dakars in full.”

Having spoken these words with an expression of irritation, the eyes of the man who appeared to be the leader glimmered with sarcasm.

“So, would you want to know the circumstances behind the current situation, Admiral Fan Hyulick?”

“No, I understand well enough. I’m not interested in what’s going on behind the scenes,” replied Fan Hyulick with a sour expression on his face, changing his clothes after getting permission to do so.

The old woman spoke to him with condescension:

“Sorry. Youngster. I know this is a bitter pill to swallow, but take some comfort in knowing that you made the happiness of an old woman.”

“Go get eaten by a stegosaurus, you heartless old woman who can’t understand your granddaughter’s feelings.”

“Nice offer, but it’s not going to happen.”

“Why is that?”

“Stegosaurus are herbivores, youngster. Your tongue is sharp, but you’re no scholar, are you?”

“Your tongue and personality are the worst!”

A Tytanian officer gave a theatrical pat on the shoulder of the fuming Fan Hyulick.

“Well, just leave it at that. Admiral Fan Hyulick. I’d like you to quietly follow us. This commotion is disturbing the neighbourhood.”

Fan Hyulick glanced quickly left and right but, noticing half a dozen figures in grey military uniforms, abandoned any thought of making a run for it. With an expression of disgust, he brought his hands together and held them out in front of him.

“You aren’t going to put me in handcuffs?”

“Nah, you’re not a prisoner. We’ll do our best to maintain a semblance of courtesy. As much as we can.”

Just as the men in grey uniforms began surrounding Fan Hyulick and moving towards the entrance, Lira broke the long silence.

“Fan…!”

“Lira, bake him some good omelette, will you? I don’t think his palate is as refined as mine, but he should be able to taste the love in it.”

Despite the inappropriateness of the situation, Fan Hyulick uttered that pretentious line and began to walk away when Lira rushed towards him. The Tytanian soldiers tensed for a moment, but Lira, who was only dressed in a négligé wrapped an arm around Fan Hyulick’s neck and pressed her lips against his.

Her négligé fluttered dramatically, and the soldiers’ gazes were attracted to her shapely and bare legs.

“Goodbye, Fan.”

As Lira was separating herself from him after bidding him farewell, Fan Hyulick silently nodded and turned his back.

He was shoved in the back seat of a vehicle. Three soldiers remained at Lira’s house to deal with the aftermath. A soldier sat on his right, another on his left, while the third took the driver’s seat.

The vehicle began to move. After barely three minutes, the soldier who was sitting on Fan Hyulick’s left suddenly groaned. All strength drained from his body, and he slumped into his seat.

“You bastard…”

The soldier on his right was speechless, and his head dropped forward. He had been shot in his side by a needle gun. Earlier, while embracing and kissing him, Lira had slipped the needle gun in his pocket.

The soldier in the driver’s seat had also been shot in the nape of his neck when he tried to turn around, his expression blank. Stretching his tall frame, Fan Hyulick pushed the driver’s body sideways. He tossed onto the floor of the vehicle the empty needle gun.

“Lira, you’re way too fine of a girl for someone like de Boer. If he ever forgets his place and cheats on you, you can come running into my arms any time.”

Managing somehow to move from the back seat to the driver’s seat, Fan Hyulick tapped the key of the inertial navigation system and set a course for the spaceport. The vehicle carried the hijacking youth at a comfy speed, and about 1001 seconds later, the pale and hyper-modern silhouette of the nightless city came into Fan Hyulick’s view.

The area surrounding the spaceport was a jumble of dilapidated warehouses and canals that served as city walls separating the residential area from the spaceport. Abandoning the vehicle in a corner, the young carrot-top set off along the nightly road.

Mr Fan Hyulick, who should have been successful in his escape, walked for some five minutes before stopping, let out a sigh to empty his lungs, and ran his fingers through his ginger hair. He had forgotten his wallet at Lira’s house.

III

Throwing curses at himself, the hapless and bankrupt Mr Hyulick tried to run back towards the vehicle he had left behind. His only option now was to sell it cheaply to levy some immediate funds.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but there were many people in this world whose minds were quicker and shrewder than his. He spotted five or six figures swarming around the vehicle, already starting to strip it of its parts. Apparently, they were an organised gang of thieves.

“Hey, you unbelievable jackasses, how dare you dispose of someone’s property without their permission? How about you listen to the scolding of your consciences, you small-time cooks?”

Right as Fan Hyulick roared this and hurled himself on a shell some three light-years away, a pale yellow flash swept across his field of vision. The screech of bikes echoed gratingly. About five vehicles sporting Tytania’s coat of arms came to a sudden halt, and a group clad in grey military uniforms leapt out.

The thief gang screamed and fled, but the Tytanian soldiers paid no heed to these petty criminals and rushed straight towards Fan Hyulick. The unemployed youth fugitive pivoted on his right heel to make a 180-degree turn, entrusting his fate in the leg strength he inherited from his parents.

“Son of a bitch, why must a decent guy like me have to suffer through such hardship? Next time I meet the goddess of fate, I’m slapping her in the face!”

Swearing a vow he could never keep, Fan Hyulick pushed his long legs and raced through the night streets. With no luggage and empty pockets (though that was not the only reason), his swift feet were fully flowing, and the Tytanian soldiers were unable to catch up with him at once.

But right as Fan Hyulick’s breathing was starting to falter, the sound of light and precise footsteps was closing behind him. Turning around would only be a waste of time and distance, so Fan Hyulick didn’t commit that mistake. Instead, he committed another kind of mistake. By running through the labyrinth-like warehouse district around the spaceport, he had managed to shake off most of his pursuers, but the mass-produced ceramic walls of a massive warehouse soon loomed in front of him.

The sound of the footsteps behind him echoed closer, and Fan Hyulick clocked his tongue as he sprang towards the handrail-less staircase running along the wall. After bending his knees some forty times, he emerged onto the railed rooftop and appeared to have reached a dead end. Some five seconds later, a pursuer dressed in grey clothing reached the same level.

“How about giving up, Admiral Hyulick?”

“Shut up! What’s so amusing about chasing after an unemployed bankrupt man? Are the perverted Count’s henchmen as perverted as he is?”

“I’m not chasing you because I find it amusing. And I’m not serving the Count because I like it either. Everything is determined by destiny.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty when messing up your choice of words, you illiterate!”

His pursuer snorted derisively and glared back at Fan Hyulick. He was young both in voice and in build. The two small moons of Ementhal were casting a pale bluish glow upon the hunter and the prey.

“It’s time for a promotion and a pay rise. Your destiny is to surrender gracefully.”

“On this planet, destiny tumbles about more cheaply than an empty cola can.”

“Indeed, destiny is tawdry. Just as the lives of those controlled by it are, for the most part, mass-produced baubles of poor quality.”

The change from stillness to motion was fast as lightning. A black shadow flashed in the hand of the Tytanian officer. Fan Hyulick leaped backwards and narrowly avoided the swift blow. A light-metal baton shot out from the pursuer’s outstretched hand like the tongue of a reptile, aiming at the fugitive’s neck. Had he not dodged with a once-in-a-lifetime speed, Fan Hyulick would have taken the fierce blow in the neck and fallen unconscious.

“Oh, you dodged that? As expected, I won’t be able to take you down if I go easy on you.”

There was a lot of composure in the muttered voice. Words muttered from beneath the roof and above the ground reached the two men.

“What the hell are you playing at, Lieutenant Mahdi! Hurry up and capture that fugitive and hand him over to His Grace the Count.”

“Ah well, my superior is such a pain, but I must obey orders. That’s the destiny of a soldier.”

Without a shred of respect for his superior, the Tytanian officer gripped with more firmness the special baton in his right hand. He was slightly shorter than Fan Hyulick. His physique was well-balanced and toned like a spring. Though it was difficult to make out his facial features, he appeared to be completely unfamiliar with the notion of tension. With smooth and fluid movements, he cornered the fugitive at an edge of the roof.

The runaway pressed his back against the old rooftop railing. He looked down over his shoulder at the dark world below. Noticing a split-second opening, Lieutenant Mahdi closed in and seized his right elbow with his left hand while preparing to bring down his baton with his right hand. At that very moment, Fan Hyulick shifted his entire weight onto the railing behind him, deliberately throwing himself off balance.

“…!”

It was unclear who screamed, as the bodies and voices entangled and flew. Both the pursuer and the pursued tumbled along the broken railing, plummeting to the ground.

He felt water around him. Fan Hyulick’s last-minute calculations had yielded results within the margin of error. He had fallen onto the black surface of the canal that was flowing behind the warehouse. His vertical fall had been ten metres.

He surfaced. Oxygen poured into his mouth and nose. After exchanging the air in his lungs for fresh air, Fan Hyulick cut through the water and rode with the current.

From beyond the darkness of the night echoed the confused voices of the Tytanians. Knowing they couldn’t see him, the carrot-top youth waved a hand in a mocking gesture before climbing onto the concrete embankment. Just then, a figure could be seen nearby in the water, screaming and churning up waves.

“Hey, help me, Admiral Hyulick…!”

“Any obligation to save you was lost in some corner of the universe.”

“I can’t swim!”

“That’s your problem. Not mine.”

“Are you going to stray from the path of righteousness when it’s expedient?! Come on, can you even consider yourself a warrior of justice after that?”

He hurled abuse at him, using a title Fan Hyulick didn’t recall ever claiming.

“Isn’t it because you are still clutching your baton that you are unable to swim?”

Faced with this bitterly sarcastic remark, the Tytanian mumbled something under his breath and threw away his precious baton onto the surface of the water. Upon seeing this, Fan Hyulick reached out and pulled Lieutenant Mahdi to safety. There was an immediate sound. It wasn’t a word of thanks, but metal clanging.

“What’s that!?”

“Can’t you see, Admiral Hyulick? Handcuffs.”

“I saved you from drowning! And that’s how you repay me? Aren’t you the one straying from the path of righteousness?”

The lieutenant swept his wet hair back while making a pose.

“Ah, the grumblings of a loser are such a pain to listen to.”

“You ungrateful bastard…!”

Gazing at Fan Hyulick’s face, which had gone white with fury, Lieutenant Mahdi suddenly broke out in a familiar smile.

“Let’s think of a way to reconcile moral principles with worldly success. I’ll take you to the Count’s mansion. Then I’ll receive the reward money and let you escape. How about that, Admiral Fan Hyulick?”

“Who would fall for such a scheme?”

“You’re a man without any trust. Look into my eyes. Do they look like those of a person who would deceive others?”

“Don’t go around telling jokes from the Stone Age as if you were boasting about it!”

Was there not a single decent person on Ementhal? As he pictured Lira’s grandmother’s face, Fan Hyulick groaned. That he described as “comfortable” such a depraved planet with such a problematic human environment was proof that his naiveté was sweeter than cheap artificial sweetener. He couldn’t help but blame himself.

“Well, if you can’t trust me, I don’t have a choice. As reluctant as I am, I’ll have to do what you can imagine.”

Speaking with brazen insolence, Lieutenant Mahdi tugged at the handcuffs’ wire. It was thin but sturdy, and as Fan Hyulick was dragged along, he had no choice but to walk along as he felt the bitter frustration of being unable to curse his nemesis to death.

Lieutenant Mahdi made no attempt to call his colleagues. It appeared he intended to claim the bounty and all the glory for himself. Right as he began striding triumphantly along the canal, something stirred in the shadow of the warehouse.

A sharp thud echoed, and Lieutenant Mahdi’s body was sent flying into the air. As the young, unconscious officer hit the ground, the figure in white clothes that had knocked him down with a single punch hoisted him effortlessly onto their left shoulder. It urged Fan Hyulick, who was standing there dumbfounded, to come forward, as if scolding him.

“Hurry and follow me. It will be a pain if the Tytanians find us. I’ll take off your handcuffs later.”

The figure was almost as tall as Fan Hyulick but broader and more substantially built. It was a woman. She had two enormous mounds on her chest and short chestnut-coloured hair. She could hardly be called a beauty, but her face, illuminated by the street lamps, had a lustrous and strange quality that gave her an almost endearing charm.

Feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him, Fan Hyulick followed her when he suddenly realised something as he asked the most basic question.

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t Lira tell you? I’m Miranda. I used to be the princess of the Principality of Casabianca.”

The giant woman laughed heartily, and for some time, Fan Hyulick was unable to close his gaping mouth.

IV

The figure of someone referred to as a princess, be she royal or imperial, ought to be of delicate and ethereal beauty and radiate a dainty grace. Though this was merely his delusion as a man and a belief held without any basis whatsoever, Fan Hyulick felt compelled to revise the dictionary definition of the word in his mind. As he continued to walk as if pulled by an invisible rope, he delved into a single memory. His voice grew somewhat tighter.

“So, you’re the one who instructed Lira to sleep with me, aren’t you? What were you intending to do by making this girl do such a thing?”

“Oh? If I had been the one to offer my chastity instead of Lira, would you have eagerly agreed to a night of passion?”

Fan Hyulick tried to shake his head with the speed of a slow-motion film but stopped himself midway. Though she wasn’t his type, it was no reason to hurt her feelings. Her Highness Princess Miranda of the Principality of Casabianca showed no sign of being offended and simply laughed once more with a hearty “Ha ha ha ha!”.

“Don’t fret it. I know very well that I’m no beauty. And yet, there is still a man who told me I was fine, and I’ve been living with him in Ementhal for the last three years.”

“What about this principality restoration nonsense?”

As Fan Hyulick finally seized an opportunity to ask a question, Her Highness Princess Miranda sighed. It was a tremendous sigh that rippled through the night air.

“De Boer isn’t a bad guy by any means, but he’s like a legendary creature who lives off eating dreams. Meaningless dreams like the restoration of the principality.”

“So it’s just some delusion of his, then?”

“While I feel sorry for him, to me, it is misplaced kindness. I’m perfectly satisfied with my husband, my work, and my life. There is no point in excessively trying to restore my principality.”

Her Highness, who was a woman of remarkable strength, paused for a moment and then shook Lieutenant Mahdi, who was slung over her shoulder.

“So, should we head for the spaceport?”

“The spaceport?”

“You want to leave Ementhal, right? I’ll get you on a spaceship.”

Princess Miranda told him that she and her husband owned an interstellar merchant vessel and that her husband was currently making preparations for departure while waiting for them.

“I’m thankful for that, but wait a bit. I don’t quite understand your intentions.”

“You’re talking about Lira? Sorry about that; I was testing you. If you were the kind of man who’d throw himself on Lira, I would have really sold you off to Tytania. You got a sharp tongue, but at least you look like you’re a decent man.”

Hung over the princess’ shoulder, Lieutenant Mahdi let out a groan. Mahdi struck the prisoner’s temple with her large right fist with a thud, and Lieutenant Mahdi let out a soft sigh before passing out once more.

Feeling a touch of sympathy for Lieutenant Mahdi’s “destiny”, Fan Hyulick became conscious of his financial situation.

“Just to be clear: I’m completely penniless right now. I can’t pay transportation costs.”

“We have a vacancy for the position of vice-chief clerk on our spaceship. I’d like you to take the job.”

“Don’t you already have a chief clerk?”

“Sure, but give it nine years and he would have lived a century, so he needs an assistant.”

Miranda’s powerful yet supple stride came to a halt as they stood before an egg-shaped cargo ship that glimmered with a dull silver-grey sheen.

Miranda’s voice echoed.

“I’ve brought a man called Fan Hyulick. As well as a little extra, too.”

Fan Hyulick waited to meet Her Highness’ husband with undisguised curiosity. Could he be someone as imposing, large, and square-built as Miranda? Or conversely, a small man who could fit in the palm of a hand? Fan Hyulick had anticipated both extremes, but the man who appeared as the door opened was of average height.

It was a middle-aged man with semi-grey hair, gentle brown eyes, and a smile on his face. As he met Miranda’s gaze, his smile broadened, and he gave Fan Hyulick a slight bow. Since he didn’t introduce himself and merely smiled, Fan Hyulick had no idea how to respond.

“He’d like to greet you, but he cannot speak. Please bear with it,” said Miranda on her husband’s behalf.

She told him his name: Captain Compton Casimir.

“It’s not something he was born with, nor a disease. He was arrested for criticising Tytania, and they destroyed his vocal cords.”

Fan Hyulick fell silent as if his own vocal cords had been destroyed. The captain’s smile seemed deep.

“Was it that perverted count who did it?”

“He’s the one who gave the order, all right.”

Miranda gave a precise account. While she was consumed by a desire for revenge and pursued the man who had destroyed her husband’s vocal chords, he went into hiding. Naturally, to this day, Miranda was still looking for the one who harmed her husband. She also intended to one day claim vengeance on Count Arses.

He felt a cold sweat running down the nape of his neck. Had he been captured by Count Arses Tytania, Fan Hyulick might have suffered a similar fate. He extended a hand towards Captain Casimir and clasped his hand firmly.

“Thanks, I owe you.”

He could say nothing more.

At that moment, burdened by his ill-fated destiny, Lieutenant Mahdi stirred on the floor. His black eyes opened and focused while his body, clad in a grey military uniform, sprang up like a grain of popcorn bursting.

“Mi, Miranda! Captain Casimir!”

“Long time no see, Lieutenant Mahdi.”

While Miranda gave the impression of a mountain, Mahdi looked like a reed swaying in the wind.

“Well then, Lieutenant, shall we depart?”

“Depart? What do you mean?”

“I’ve already obtained permission to set sail by using your name. There’s no problem with you coming along with us. Come now, let’s leave this dreadful planet and set out in the vastness of space.”

Captain Casimir met Miranda’s gaze and nodded with his usual gentle smile. Mahdi let out something that sounded like a shriek.

“I, I can’t! Tytania will hunt me down as a traitor too!”

“Really? I don’t think so, although Count Arses Tytania might not see it that way.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me!?”

“Absolutely not; I’m just looking out for you as a friend. They say that the perverted count adores torturing handsome sickly men. You aren’t sickly, but you’re still quite a handsome chap, and you certainly look healthy enough to handle the torture.”

Mahdi was about to shout something but stopped at the last second as he quickly glanced around. But when he noticed the short-barrelled gun casually held in Captain Casimir’s hand, his expression turned truly pitiful.

“It’s your destiny. Just give up,” roared Miranda with a laughter befitting her massive frame, shaking the air in the ship.

However, Lieutenant Mahdi seemed utterly unable to join in and laugh about his own destiny. Pulling out his black hair, he sank to the floor as he rued his destiny and that of mankind. As Fan Hyulick gazed at the black-haired, copper-skinned, and green-eyed young officer, he felt both a sense of sympathy and superiority, and purely subjective words of consolation came out of his lips.

“As you like saying, this is destiny. What a lucky guy you are to have such friends, huh?”

“You know nothing!”

Furious, Mahdi leaped to his feet with a booming voice. He glared at the captain and his wife and stumped his military boots on the floor.

“These guys are notorious smugglers. They are vicious blokes, and their criminal record could fill 200 pages. If there is evidence of their crimes, they’d be lucky to just get off with their vocal cords destroyed.”

“Now don’t be ungrateful, Mahdi boy.”

Her Highness Princess Miranda suppressed her laughter as she narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. Startled, Mahdi stiffened.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how many times we’ve filled that thin wallet of yours. By Tytanian private laws, by now you should have been sentenced to a firing squad five or six times, right? If we face the death penalty, you’ll be joining us for the ride.”

““What are you talking about?””

These words were pronounced by two people, Mahdi and Fan Hyulick, each with a different tone. Ignoring the one who was playing dumb, Miranda replied to the one who was asking with keen interest:

“Well, you see, Admiral Hyulick, this lieutenant here is a habitual offender when it comes to misappropriating goods. While the fact that Count Arses is a poor administrator probably played a role, for the last two years, he funnelled straight to us enough supplies to equip an entire regiment. Having him in the army is such a waste; he was born to be a black marketeer.”

“What are you yapping about? It’s you guys who pocketed most of the profits!”

“If we had divided the profits fairly, you would have received far less. You were paid three times the standard rate, right? So, what are you going to do? Maybe you could try that excuse on Count Arses and see if it convinces him.”

While Miranda was making a fine suggestion, it was unlikely to come to fruition any time soon. Lieutenant Mahdi sat down on the floor once more, and after a long tirade about his destiny, finally accepted defeat as he slumped his shoulders.

Thus, with a cargo of various ores and a diverse crew, the interstellar freighter Honest Old Man left the surface of planet Ementhal, leaving behind the exasperated clicks of the tongue of Count Arses who had left his prey slip away.