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Tobacco Road Cake – Part 02

“Count me in!” Coup de Grâce interjected. “Hold on, Bon. Linlin and I are coming.”

Kazuya observed him intently. Worry seemed to have drained the color from his face. Coup de Grâce gave him a look that said, “Let’s not waste time talking to these people. Let’s move.”

Kazuya nodded, about to sprint off when a voice intervened, “Hey, I’m coming too.”

It was the voice of the female firefighter from the pair outside—the one with the fiery red ponytail.

The officer’s frustration peaked. “You, of all people, should follow orders for rescue missions! That’s your duty!”

But the woman stood defiant, hands on hips. “We won’t make it in time!” she snapped back. “There are countless lives at stake. My duty is to save lives, not to listen to your orders.”

Taken aback by her assertiveness, the officer fell silent.

Then, the other female firefighter rushed over, stopping the redhead. “Mary, don’t!” she pleaded. “It’s too risky going up there right now.”

“But…”

“You’ve been acting strangely lately. Why would you want to head up there in the midst of all this chaos?”

“Well…”

“You’ll tarnish your medal if you do something reckless.”

She gestured towards the small gold medal adorning the redhead’s chest.

“I remember now!” the officer exclaimed. “You’re Mary something, a firefighter. You were honored by Mayor Emigré for your bravery during a fire. But don’t let it get to your head! Firefighters are supposed to follow the police’s instructions.”

“I’m going!”

“Were you even listening?!”

The other firefighter and the officer engaged in a heated debate with Mary.

Kazuya and Coup de Grâce swung open the door to the emergency staircase, the one they had just burst out of from the basement. As they moved ahead, a voice called from behind.

“Mary!”

Turning, they spotted Mary, breaking away from her companions and sprinting towards them with a frantic face.

“Better to have a pro along, right? You three are all men, but you’re not professionals.”

“Mary! Stop!” The voice trailed off as the door shut.

There was no time for further inquiry. Kazuya hurriedly went up the dim staircase, when he realized something.

“Wait, did you say three?”

Coup de Grâce also caught on and wore a pensive expression.

In the dim emergency staircase, Kazuya stood at the top, with Coup de Grâce just below him. These two young men seemed quite out of place in their tailcoats. And leaning against the emergency door, looking up at them, was a well-built female firefighter in a red overall.

The diminutive gentleman, forgotten amidst the chaos, was standing next to Coup de Grâce. He glanced at both Kazuya and Coup de Grâce, tugging at his beard with both hands.

“It looked like things were heating up, so I figured I’d join in,” he said. “Wait, I can’t? Riding on the Miracle Car without permission is one thing, but surely this is acceptable. You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, Coup de Grâce. You too, Linlin. You need to loosen up.”

At the top floor…

Victorique was motionless, completely swathed in gray fabric. Her green eyes gleamed like those of a cat’s.

Famous boxers, baseball players, racers, and other muscular men darted around the grand hall.

“There are only two exits! The elevator hall and the emergency staircase.”

“The elevator’s out.”

“And the emergency staircase is locked from outside!”

Strong men gathered, joining forces to ram against the emergency exit door, but it refused to yield. Despairing groans and cries rose from the onlookers. A fierce wind gusted through the shattered windows.

Meanwhile, Mayor Emigré was frantically making calls in a corner. He hollered for the police chief, then gave the phone to him.

“What?! Did you say there’s a fire?!” the chief shouted, fear in his shrill voice. “From the lower floors? We’re trapped in here!”

Anxious murmurs rippled through the guests. Women collapsed to the floor, caught by their companions.

“Th-This can’t be happening,” Bon Vivant muttered in disbelief. “On the night of such a significant event! Wh-Who’s responsible for this?! Shit.” His strained voice echoed through the hall. “Granny, don’t lose hope!”

From somewhere amid the bewildered guests, La Guardia’s emotional words reached Bon Vivant.

“Thank you. You’re a truly caring grandson.”

Silence fell over the hall.

Victorique peered up at Bon Vivant from behind the cake, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity.

An eerie wind swept in from the elevator hall. Injured employees were lined up, encouraged on loudly by their colleagues.

A gentleman leading the first-aid efforts confessed, “But I’m a neurologist… It’s been decades since I did surgical training.”

“What?!”

“That doesn’t matter at this stage.”

“Come on, sir, please do something!”

“Help them!”

The corner where the injured gathered started to resemble an impromptu field hospital.

The police chief and elderly gentlemen convened for a discussion, then fanned out to comb through the entire hall. They searched for the third bomb, but couldn’t find it.

Beyond the window lay a dazzling night vista. Only moments ago, it had symbolized progress, but now it stretched out as a spectacle that they might never return to.

The chandeliers overhead quivered slightly. Victorique remained silent, her gaze fixed downward.

The group of burly lawyers, who had been consulting alongside La Guardia, suddenly raised their heads.

“We have no choice but to hunt down the culprit. Luckily, this place has become a locked room. The culprit is among us. Show yourself, you villain!”

The guests lifted their heads, baffled. Only the finest gentlemen of New York were gathered here tonight. Their faces said the culprit couldn’t be among them. Before long, the guests’ stares silently converged on one person.

Victorique poked her head out from the gray fabric, gazing up at the young man who found himself under fierce scrutiny.

The individual—Bon Vivant—was the last to notice the anomaly. “Huh, what, me?! No way!”

“Restrain the debauchee!”

Before he could process what was happening, Bon Vivant found himself encircled by the legion of lawyers and forcefully seated in a chair. The atmosphere quickly shifted, verging on a mob mentality. Bon Vivant let out confused groans.

An elegant elderly woman’s voice intervened, “Bon has always been an honest boy. He may be eccentric, but he will never do anything evil.”

“Hooray! Granny!”

Emerging from the crowd, La Guardia approached slowly. An elderly woman garbed as the Statue of Liberty. Instead of the torch of freedom and hope, she brandished a golden pipe. The pipe, intricately crafted, bore a green gem in the lizard’s eyes, gleaming like a beacon in the darkness.

Victorique regarded the pipe with keen interest once more.

“But Lady La Guardia!” a lawyer objected. “The culprit’s message mentioned Grim Reaper!”

“And ‘Have you danced with Death in the dark of night?’ is a catchphrase straight out of the comics!”

“He’s highly suspicious!”

La Guardia leisurely puffed on her pipe, tilting her chin with a slightly amused laugh.

“What a curious bunch! This child’s comics have captured the hearts of youths and children all over New York. Sure, certain stuffy types in certain families may turn their noses up at them, but it’s just like what I did forty years ago. ‘Wonder Girl instead of candy!’ Right, Bon? It wouldn’t be strange for anyone here to pretend to be the villain.”

The legion of lawyers and the gentlemen who had previously been in agreement exchanged troubled glances.

Speaking on behalf of them, one lawyer gingerly said, “W-Well, if that’s the case, then the culprit is among us. That’s not good. Everyone here is a distinguished individual.”

La Guardia smiled confidently. “Use your brain, will you? Bombs can be rigged with timers, and if you preload the film, the additional footage will automatically play as time passes. The culprit may not necessarily be in our midst.”

Her eyes turned slightly fierce, her expression like a fox fixing its gaze on a quarry.

“Still, it’s quite audacious to target someone like me. A reckless criminal indeed.”

“Well, it’s obvious this crime is motivated by resentment. If you can’t find the culprit, why not focus on deducing the motive instead? It would be prudent for the individual in question to really think about what that ‘sin of that day’ mentioned in the culprit’s message could mean.”

“Who said that?”

La Guardia’s eyes gleamed with a quick, sweeping glance around the room. No one responded. She raised her shoulders.

“That voice just now… It sounded like… an elderly voice, hoarse, deep, and eerie, echoing from the depths of hell. Who was it?”

Bon Vivant, seated in the chair, pointed to a girl. Victorique, nestled deep within the gray fabric, stealthily concealed her presence. Like some hero wearing the ‘cloak of invisibility’ from mythology, she vanished completely, her form and presence fading away until she resembled nothing more than a rock in the wilderness.