The Soldier and The Novelist

The Purple Smoke Doesn’t Billow

The thief’s misfortune came in twofold: first, he fled down a narrow alley instead of a main road, and secondly, I happened to be the one pursuing him, someone who knew the area like the back of my hand.

Back in my days as a mercenary, there was one particular job that always seemed pointless—searching for lost cats and dogs. We would scour the alleys of Ixlaha day and night for a pay that hardly matched the effort and time invested. As expected, none of us mercenaries relished this type of job, so the task was assigned through a lottery each time. Regrettably, I hold the record for the most times assigned to that task in a single year.

Oddly enough, I don’t recall ever being a part of the selection process for that lottery, despite it being touted as strictly impartial.

Lost in thought, I suddenly spotted the thief’s back in front of me. Catching him is going to be a lot easier than finding a cat or dog.

“Wait right there!” My voice echoed through the empty alley, and the thief turned to face me. His expression was less one of panic and more one of annoyance. I recognized that face.

“Ugh, what kind of utopian policy is this?!” I muttered, clicking my tongue in frustration.

I quickened my pace, and the thief turned a corner into another alley. I traced the map in my mind. That alley led to a small square with a fountain, and beyond that was Omotesando. If the thief could make it to the bustling streets full of Independence Festival tourists, it would be difficult to catch him. I had to catch him before he passed the fountain square.

As I was about to pursue the thief into the narrow alley, I noticed the woman from the bookstore panting and running towards us from behind. I thought it would have been better if she had stayed put, but I didn’t have time to worry about her. I charged forward into the alley after the thief.

As I ran, I calculated the distance between the thief and myself. Although I could eventually catch up to him, there was a high chance he would reach Omotesando before I could get him.

I crouched down, launching myself off the cobblestones and into the air. As the wind rushed past my face, I kicked off the brick wall on one side of the alley and, with perfect timing, rebounded myself off the opposite wall before gravity could pull me down. I soared high into the sky before landing smoothly on the roof of a nearby building. Without losing my momentum, I kept running across the rooftops in the direction the thief was headed. This was the quickest way to cut the thief off, as he was still winding his way through the maze of alleyways below.

Jumping from one rooftop to another across the houses, I let myself succumb to gravity as I recognized the fountain plaza below me. I landed at the entrance of the plaza with a dry thud. A thief who had emerged from the alleyway in front of me momentarily contorted his face in shock, but he hesitated for only a moment before he pulled out a short knife hidden in his jacket.

Observing this, I relaxed my lips and said, “As expected of a former mercenary, how shortsighted.”

The man rushed at me, holding his deadly blade, intending to break through by force. However, “You lack the killing intent.”

I dodged his knife by arching my body backwards and grabbed his arm with my left hand. Then, I turned around, twisted to the left, lifted his tailbone with my right elbow, and shifted my entire weight far forward. The man’s face contorted in pain as his foot lifted off the ground, supported by my right elbow.

It wasn’t just an elbow throw.

At the moment I launched the man’s body into the air, my right arm had already fulfilled its role as the pivot point. I locked eyes with the man as he realized what was happening, and I grinned in response.

In the next moment, my right fist, propelled by the force to pierce the heavens, struck the man’s face.

The thief flew through the air, unable to scream, and landed in the fountain with a loud splash. A beat later, the knife he had been wielding made a sharp clatter as it fell to the ground at my feet. I picked it up and sniffed it.

“Don’t use such a cheap weapon, you weakling. A former mercenary like me doesn’t resort to such tactics.” To the former business rival floating unconscious in the pond, I uttered these words.

Although I don’t know his name, I’ll never forget the face of the man I once fought with. He wasn’t a member of the Sunset Union I belonged to, but rather a mercenary from another group—what Hugh would call the “sailors of a sunken ship.” He must have lost his job and ended up becoming a small-time thief. Just hearing the story was one thing, but seeing the current situation with my own eyes left a bitter taste in my mouth.

As I heard footsteps approaching from behind me, I turned to find the woman from the bookstore in the square, panting heavily.

“Hey, you’re late,” I said, forming a confident smile on my face. I had caught the thief who had stolen her bag, and there was no need to curse at me.

“This is… You…?” The woman asked me, breathless.

Playing with the knife, I shrugged nonchalantly and gave her a calm expression. “Well, yeah, that’s right.”

“I see,” the woman replied, catching her breath. She walked up to me, and I waited for her thanks, but her response was quite the opposite of what I expected.

“This idiot!” she yelled, glaring at me with hatred in her eyes, then delivered a beautifully executed high kick to my face.

“Ugh!” I couldn’t avoid it in time. Caught off guard and shocked, I stumbled and lost my balance, then stepped on the fallen knife, which caused me to fall into the pond with a loud splash. The cold water swallowed me whole.

Did she just hit me? Kick me? Why?

As I drank a little of the pond’s water, I emerged from the surface with rage on my face. “What the hell did you…?!”

“What did you do to my bag?” the woman asked in return, clutching her soaked travel bag. It seemed to have flown into the pond when I had knocked down the thief. That was how it ended up falling into the water with me.

“This is terrible…” the woman muttered, holding her wet bag tightly. Her eyes were a bit teary from the shock of it all. Surprised by her sudden change of behavior, I lost my words and couldn’t think of a counterargument. Instead, I uttered meaningless words, driven by a compulsion to say something.

“Well, uh…”

The woman glared at me while holding her bag tightly. It wasn’t the same face as the woman who had just boldly confronted me at the bookstore. I wondered why she looked so depressed just because her bag got a little wet.

“Well, you know, it’s not like I could do anything about it…”

“Shut up! Don’t talk to me anymore!” She screamed hysterically and turned on her heels.

“Hey, wait a minute!” I had to explain something, so I stopped her.

She stopped for a moment at the sound of my voice and turned around. Along with her freezing gaze of absolute zero.

“Don’t talk to me…!”

I was overwhelmed by the chilling stare that I had never experienced before. I could only stare blankly at her back as she left the square, her anger still radiating.

After the woman left, I finally got out of the pond. My soaked clothes felt disgusting.

“What the hell was that about?” I muttered to myself. If I kept quiet, I felt like I would cry out of frustration.

To calm down, I sat on the edge of the fountain. I took a cigarette out of my jacket pocket and put it in my mouth. I took out a lighter and lit it.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

I cried.