23 Betrayal 5

"What should I do?"

Rei murmured in a hotel room hastily secured.

He felt a quiet loneliness at the lack of response to his whisper.

Few people moved between fleets.

Most matters were settled within a single fleet, and time was always a constraint.

Space was too vast for casual travel.

Thus, securing a room had posed no difficulty.

Funding came from Harold’s personal funds—leading the Laitera Project within the Second Fleet—so financial concerns were negligible.

Still, Harold’s pocket money had been repeatedly disregarded in favor of ignoring return orders. Whether receipts would be accepted later remained uncertain.

Three days spent at this hotel.

Only stepping outside during meals.

Briefly encountering a few lively others.

Then returning alone to the room, the silence settling once more.

The data collection within the Third Fleet has not progressed as intended.

Whether such a thing ever truly existed remains uncertain.

The primary obstacle was securing cooperation—though that, one might say, had already been achieved.

Now only the actual offer to the target remains.

Granting Jin, burdened by an unerasable past, a chance to alter that past.

In several years, that past would shift toward something reasonably ideal, and with it, the present would change as well.

That conclusion had already been reached long ago.

Yet Ling remained at Jin’s side, not to alter the past, but to reshape the present in another way.

That, too, had become impossible.

Jin’s residence was a military bachelor dormitory.

After Ling had been lodged there for three months, an eviction notice was finally issued.

There was nothing to be done about it.

Ling herself had said as much.

There is nothing to be done.

That is the decision.

Of course.

“Therefore, I shall simply invite him again.”

Her fingers brush the pocket of her bag, softly.

Nothing had been there for three months.

Jin’s key to his room.

The only thing that had tied him to her.

She realizes, now, that they never exchanged contact information.

She never thought to, because she could always speak to him whenever she was in that room.

The empty pocket feels hollow.

"...Is that so."

She realizes it.

She had wanted to heal the one who was wounded.

To give warmth of family to the one who was alone.

All of it, because she had wanted to.

Because she wanted to give him not his past, but a future.

She becomes aware, with quiet dread, that he has come to occupy such a large part of her inner world.

Once she realizes it, there is no stopping.

"Good evening, Captain Grace."

"Good morning here. Jin. You've ignored my calls for ages. What do you want now?"

Captain Grace, the officer directly above him, receives the call.

"I regret to inform you, but I wish to resign due to personal reasons."

"……I never intended to assign you a position in the first place… Are you serious?"

"Yes. I am serious."

"Still, you were always a peculiar one, claiming you wanted to experience history firsthand. The possibility of this outcome was already accounted for."

In truth, compared to the other project participants, his commitment had always been perceived as low.

That was how he was seen.

He himself thought the same. After all, he was now reversing his stance.

"Very well. Say nothing further about the project—"

"Regardless, you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t even understand the rationale myself."

In essence, this project is nothing more than a vehicle built upon the Byron name’s prestige.

Built upon Harold Byron’s past achievements.

Only someone like him might have been capable of pulling it off.

At this stage, only the person himself and the caller on the phone would know the details of the plan.

“That’s right. If you don’t wish to be seen as delusional, I’d advise against speaking of it.”

“Yes.”

“Before you leave, I’d recommend providing personal data on Haragaki Jin—”

“I decline.”

“Decline? What do you mean by that?”

“I said I decline.”

Grace was momentarily stunned by the firmness of Ryo’s words. It took several seconds before a voice came through the phone line.

“You’re free to withdraw from the plan. But he remains a candidate for participation.”

“No. He won’t join. I’ll make sure he has no intention of doing so.”

“Kusunoki Ryo. I can’t believe—”

“That’s exactly it, Captain. I’ve come to value him more than the cause of human peace.”

Ryo said this with a faint smile, and through the phone, Grace seemed to let out a quiet laugh.

Changing the present is enough. I envy that simplicity.

I wish to reclaim something important left behind in the past. I understand that desire... but I am clearly not suited for this path.

That is correct. You were never part of an official organization. I will render this communication inoperable—evidence of your departure from the plan.

I apologize for my failure to assist. But may I speak once more, at last?

Listen.

Ling drew in a shallow breath.

Having joined the plan, having reached this point.

She spoke honestly of what she had felt during the time before.

No matter how noble the cause, history has proven that no cause can satisfy all people.

And now, Ling herself had proven it.

She had chosen immediate happiness over human peace.

...Continue.

If the thing is destined to become a source of conflict, then it holds no value, I believe—regardless of whether that conflict were erased.

Past alteration.

The alteration ultimately became ideal for the alterer.

Since no one can achieve universal ideals, conflict will arise whether one seeks to stop it or to impose one's own ideal.

The victor of that conflict will erase the conflict itself and claim their ideal.

Rei was certain it would repeat endlessly.

‘I understand your position. I’ll take it into account for future planning.’

With those words, the call ended.

Attempting to reconnect, even once more, yielded no response.

As Grace had predicted, communication was severed immediately.

Impressive—efficient work, indeed. A faint admiration stirred.

“Good.”

A resolve hardened.

After all, what she was contemplating now was truly reckless, without thought for consequences.

She did not consider the other party’s circumstances at all.

"Let’s match their move with one of our own."

If that backfires—well, it’ll be a costly lesson.

Yet Mio had a quiet certainty that it wouldn’t come to that.

Change of registry.

Transferring from the Second Fleet to the Third Fleet was approved after a review period of about a week, with no issues raised.

Her mother was greatly surprised, but—after all, she was a grown adult—accepted it with relative ease.

Her younger sister would be informed afterward.

There was conflict in severing ties with family.

They had already spent half their lives apart; now, they might meet once a year—or not at all.

The same applied to friends.

The only acquaintance she had in the Third Fleet was Jin, and there were professional matters to consider as well.

For now, she would remain affiliated with the Second Fleet's university and work remotely. But she would still need to find a place here.

There was much to consider.

And a place to live.

Hotel living was no longer an option. She didn’t have that kind of savings.

So she would rent a boarding house.

Somewhere slightly near the military bachelor quarters. The transportation was poor, but there was nothing to be done—she would endure.

That was the extent of her intention, really: to jump from Jin’s unit like someone fleeing a place they despised.

She prepared, then set out—straight to Jin’s.

“Huh? He’s not here.”

“Ah. He moved out.”

The familiar dorm supervisor said so, and she froze.

Not that she could say it was anything but shock.

“Eh… really? I thought he hated it that much…?”

Had she been the only one to assume he felt the same?

No. She reconsidered.

That wasn’t true.

She hadn’t been the only one shocked by his abrupt farewell that day.

She hadn’t been the only one to feel regret in that moment.

Still, not knowing his contact information was severely limiting.

She had believed they could meet anytime, simply by coming here.

She had been certain.

“Let’s do it.”

There was no other connection between Jin and Mio.

So she would wait.

She resolved to wait here, however long it took.

If he felt the same, he would come—she believed it.