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November 3rd, 1:07 A.M.
The Lord Chief Justice’s Office
Tired and sweating, Seishiro Jigoku had finally made his way to the Supreme Court. Some of the initial exhaustion of staying up so late had managed to wear off halfway through his dash through the cold, dark streets of London, so now he was finally sober enough to contemplate just what it was he was doing here.
‘This is senseless,’ Jigoku had told himself on the way here. ‘Nothing more than your paranoia catching up to you in your old age.’ But even then, he wasn’t sure if it was himself that was talking, or if Lord Stronghart’s silver tongue had started to break through what little free will he had left.
The Lord Chief Justice had already held a meeting with him yesterday over the very topic Jigoku found himself here for now.
The topic of Kazuma Asogi.
Lord Stronghart had told Jigoku and Professor Yujin Mikotoba that, due to having to clean up the mess left behind by the selling of classified government transmissions, he simply forgot to mention the fact that Mr. Asogi had been alive and serving as Lord van Zieks’s apprentice all that time.
No sensible man would believe that excuse. But at the same time, no sensible man could argue with the Lord Chief Justice of the British Empire.
Unless, of course, you were as closely connected to him as Jigoku was.
Even then, you should take care to at least not be late to the very meeting you demanded. That was a lesson Jigoku would have to keep in mind next time, but for now, all he could do was wait.
The office was dimly lit, the twin candlesticks not reaching quite as far as one would expect. Aside from Jigoku’s breathing, the only sound that filled the room was that of the giant cogs that stretched high into the back of the office. Their sound was a consistent clatter, spreading throughout the room at precise, unchanging intervals, almost like music.
Tch. Tch. Tch.
Then a new sound.
“Ahem.”
It seemed Jigoku wasn’t the only one waiting. At his desk sat the Lord Chief Justice, looking as stern as ever. Now Jigoku felt foolish for not noticing him earlier.
“You’re late. 7 minutes and 28 seconds, by my count.”
As Jigoku made his way to Lord Stronghart’s desk, he went to apologize, but was cut off rather quickly as he found a hand held out uncomfortably close to his face, a clear sign to stop talking.
“If I needed an excuse from you, I would have asked for one.”
It was a minor thing, but to Jigoku’s sleep-deprived mind, Stronghart might as well have smacked him upside the face with his cane. ‘After all I’ve done for him, the least this pompous, arrogant old bastard could do is let me finish a--‘
“So. To what do I owe the man of the hour?
And I do mean that literally, considering what time it is.”
Ironically enough, that thought would also be shoved to the side as the question registered in Jigoku’s mind. He didn’t have the patience to word it elegantly, so he went straight to the point.
“The boy is alive.”
Now it was Stronghart’s turn to be the silent one. In fact, it was as if the entire room had gone quiet; the cogs seemingly faded out, leaving only the two men as the focus of that moment. Payback, in Jigoku’s eyes.
“… I beg your pardon?”
“The boy is alive… and you didn’t tell me.”
Silence.
…After a few seconds, the cogs started up again, as if they were representative of Stronghart’s own thoughts.
Then he spoke.
“…Ah. So that is why you called me.
I thought I cleared this up rather well when I met with you and Professor Mikotoba yesterday.”
‘Obviously not, if I told you to meet me here.’ Jigoku had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying that. Yes, he could hardly stand the man, but even then, you can only get so far with outright disrespecting the Lord Chief Justice himself.
“Yes, well, I found that explanation to be a little too… convenient.
How you conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell me that you’ve had a masked assassin at Lord van Zieks’s beck and call for months now. Especially after what just happened…”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you intentionally neglected to tell me. That you wanted even more blackmail on me.
But that doesn’t seem like something you’d do, does it, ‘Lord Stronghart’?”
Jigoku especially enjoyed the last few words that left his mouth. A not-so-subtle jab that still managed to be worded quite eloquently, in his opinion.
Silence filled the room, the only sound again being those cogs. After a while, that “music” quickly grew grating.
Tch. Tch. Tch.
Then a new sound.
Stronghart’s voice.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to say, my friend. It is as simple as I explained to you before: I simply forgot to tell you.
You know how busy our lines of work can get. Do I expect you to recount every detail of every day?”
It made sense. Unfortunately. There wasn’t much Jigoku could argue with him about, and he was fully prepared to accept defeat, as per usual…but then Stronghart kept talking, and what he had to say was quite simply unacceptable.
“Besides, I thought you would never want to see an Asogi again. Especially after what you did to the last on--“
Stronghart didn’t even get to finish that last word, as for once, it was Jigoku who cut him off, rather than the other way around.
“Don’t you DARE bring him into this!”
Jigoku had slammed his fist down hard on Lord Stronghart’s desk - if it were made of wood, he would have surely broken it as if it were just another witness stand.
“You know FULLY WELL that you forced my hand with what you made me do to Genshin! You yell at me to shoot, and yet you STILL have the audacity to blame ME for it?!”
Jigoku had never raised his voice at Stronghart the way he had just now, and as liberating as it was in the moment…that liberation fled quickly and was replaced with a sense of dread. Jigoku had no idea how Stronghart would respond; he might simply scold him for talking back, or he could do much worse.
The silence was deafening, save for those damned cogs. They taunted him, mocking him as he slinked back from Stronghart’s desk, reminding him of the fact that Stronghart himself had yet to respond, that they were still the only thing to have spoken.
Tch. Tch. Tch.
Then a new sound.
Almost like…… laughter…?
It was! Stronghart was laughing at him!
Sure, it was hardly any more than a slight chuckle, but for someone as stone-faced as Stronghart, he might as well have started cackling maniacally.
Then he spoke.
“Really now? I ‘forced you’ to kill him?
That, my friend… is what would be considered a matter of perspective.”
Stronghart stood up, no longer laughing, instead giving the coldest glare Jigoku had ever seen. The two of them had debated this topic many times before - that was part of the reason Jigoku was so annoyed at him bringing it up again.
It seemed as though Stronghart was intent on having this be their last time.
“That night at Lowgate Cemetery, YOU were the one who pulled the trigger on Asogi.
You had multiple options at your disposal. You could have shot that poor, frightened grave robber and put him out of the misery he would eventually find himself in. Why, you could have turned the gun on ME, and freed yourself from the burden of the path you find yourself on today. Or… you could have done absolutely nothing. There was nothing necessarily stopping you from walking away and letting the truth of that night slip out for all of London to know…
But I think we both remember what you chose.”
He could still see the horror on the poor man’s face upon finding a corpse come to life. He could still feel the gun in his hands, and he could still hear the voice in his ear, telling him to shoot.
Silence.
Then a new sound.
BANG!
And with that, the memory was over. The sound flash of the gun faded out, and Jigoku found himself in the British Supreme Court once more.
“Face it, old friend: in the end, I merely offered a choice.
In the end, you are the one who chose to take it.”
Stronghart was right. Jigoku hated it… but he was right. He chose this path. Yes, Stronghart had yelled in his ear that night to shoot, but it wasn’t as if he grabbed the gun and made him do it. No, he chose to pull the trigger. He chose to sacrifice his friend… and for what? More power? A title as Minister of Justice? Hardly worth anything when you don’t even have the freedom to make your own decisions with that title. Stronghart guided every step of his life ever since that night - had made every decision for him.
Seishiro Jigoku had thrown away his friend’s life for nothing.
Silence filled the room once again. The cogs were still running - now Jigoku was almost thankful for them. They were
just loud enough so that he wouldn’t be left with just his thoughts.
Tch. Tch. Tch.
Then a new sound.
Ticking.
Jigoku had hardly realized it in the dimness of the office, but Stronghart had pulled out his pocket watch. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the Lord Chief Justice spoke.
“…But, ultimately, this reemphasis of the facts proves to be nothing more than a waste of time.
It will be precisely… 8 hours, 17 minutes, and 39 seconds until the next court session for the inspector’s murder.”
That statement fully brought Jigoku back to the circumstances that had led to this meeting even taking place. Yes, he had took matters into his own hands and killed that Scotland Yard inspector after believing there to be no other alternative, and now the two had to act fast in finding a solution.
Stronghart continued, in a deathly serious tone Jigoku had never heard him speak in.
“When that trial begins, I have no doubt that Mr. Naruhodo will fight tooth and nail to acquit Lord van Zieks, and I also have no doubt that in his resolve to find the truth, he will touch upon your connection to this matter.
It would be very, very unfortunate if he were to bring you to the stand.”
“In a few short hours, you are to embark back on the ship that brought you here and flee the country before that can happen, and you will contact me when you have arrived back home. Do I make myself clear?”
Yes, it all made sense… but Jigoku couldn’t help but feel as though something was amiss. Stronghart spoke as though he were sure of one definitive outcome, but this plan was too simple. It didn’t account for one other factor…
“Wait. What if… I’m too late? That Naruhodo boy isn’t just on his own; he has allies in Professor Mikotoba and that detective fellow. You know how legendary of an investigative pair they made! If they already have their suspicions--“
Jigoku would be cut off once more, as Stronghart spoke in an oddly-reassuring tone.
“Your paranoia is getting to you in your old age, old friend. You have nothing to concern yourself over.”
Then, hands outstretched, he returned to that deathly serious tone, cold and unfamiliar, as if the person Jigoku was talking to was someone he had never truly met.
“I shall be taking special measures to ensure the outcome I want.”
What did he mean by THAT? Jigoku could hardly imagine… and hardly WANTED to imagine, so he said as much. Stronghart merely scoffed at him.
“Feel whatever way you want. In any case, every second we waste squabbling only gives more fuel to our enemies’ fire.
You should pack. You DO have a boat to catch, after all.”
Jigoku still hadn’t even managed to get a straight answer out of the man; he claimed to have merely forgotten, but that comment about Genshin had almost seemed… deliberately placed, rather than a poor choice of words. It HAD gotten him to drop the interrogation…
“…This conversation isn’t over, you know.”
“Oh, but I think it is.
Goodbye, my dear Minister of Foreign Affairs…”
As Stronghart shoo’d him out of his office, Jigoku’s aged ears caught that last remark, a reminder of the “power” he owed to Stronghart. The last thing he would hear was the faint grinding of the cogs, and for a moment, Jigoku imagined himself as one of those cogs, a mere part of the system that powered the machine that was Lord Stronghart. Easily replaceable, and yet still hopefully important in some way. Was that all he was to Stronghart himself? A lackey whose role could be filled by any selfish fool? He knew the answer in his heart, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit…
Tch. Tch. Tch.
Then there was no sound at all.