BIA Ch. 101

“…Are you sure?”

Isaiah lowered his voice as well.

Scarlett straightened up and smiled.

“As far as I know, yes. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

Honestly, he didn’t want to believe it. But the moment he heard the man’s words, he knew instinctively. This was probably true. And this kind of intuition was never wrong.

“I might not look it, but I have sharp ears.”

Scarlett said boastfully. Why wouldn’t he? These supply guys were the best-informed sources about what went on around here. After all, most supply depots were basically local pubs like this one. You could hear all sorts of rumors just by hanging around for half a day. In fact, quite a few of them made pocket money selling information they picked up here and there while hauling ammunition.

“Cedric wrote a will, right? The story came from his lawyer.”

“Raymond?”

Isaiah asked, slurring his pronunciation as much as possible so Manny couldn’t read his lips.

“I don’t know the name. Anyway, the ones more interested in the Kalisz family boss position than the Kalisz guys themselves right now are the heads of the other Five Families.”

That made sense. If Bran became the boss, there was no telling how big the already powerful Kalisz family would grow. With the balance of power in Eloy’s underworld, maintained for over half a century, about to collapse, the question of ‘which organization would be most on edge?’ was meaningless. Rossetti, considered the leader among the Five Families; Martino, whose territory bordered Kalisz’s; Barone, on the verge of expulsion from the Five Families. Any one of them could be desperate enough to force Raymond’s mouth open.

“Looks like you’re still playing both sides, but if it were me, I’d stick with Chester. Then I’d milk Chester for all he’s worth until the Kalisz family collapses, and then dump him. An idiot like Chester is easy to handle, isn’t he?”

Apparently, Chester’s stupidity was well-known throughout Eloy. It was true, so there was nothing to be done about it.

“You’re treating me like a gigolo.”

Isaiah didn’t hide his displeasure.

“Is it any different?”

Scarlett grinned and stood up from his seat.

“I also heard a rumor that Chester is head over heels for some Asian male prostitute. They say Cedric’s wife wants to marry their son off quickly because she’s afraid he’ll actually turn gay if things continue like this?”

Leaving behind the unfunny joke, Scarlett left.

Isaiah remained seated alone at the table for a while after Scarlett left the pub. Then, around the time the current song ended, he got up. He approached the bar counter and ordered a drink from the bartender.

“Roy Rogers.”

The bartender handed Isaiah the box that Scarlett had left for him. The fact that the ammunition wasn’t split meant that, at least in this vicinity, he was the only WD sniper. Of course, that wasn’t proof that Chester hadn’t hired another sniper.

As soon as he left the pub carrying the box, Manny caught up to him.

“Who was that guy from earlier?”

“You saw him, didn’t you?”

Isaiah tapped the box tucked under his arm.

“The guy who delivers bullets.”

“So he’s with WD?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he and my father started out around the same time.”

Manny muttered, “Ah.” Being sharp, Manny would likely guess why the man had sat at the table talking just from that. Before Manny could say anything else, Isaiah spoke first.

“More importantly, do you know where Bran’s house is?”

“Why?”

Manny asked, pressing the middle button on his car’s smart key. A beep sounded from somewhere along the roadside.

“I think I need to get my gun.”

“I know where it is, sure. But how are you planning to get it?”

“I’ll have to steal it.”

The two opened the doors of the car whose taillights were flashing and got into the driver’s and passenger’s seats, respectively.

“He’ll be busy visiting business sites during weekday afternoons, right? I’ll go then and grab it.”

“That might be true, but…”

“Just take me to Bran’s house for now. I’ll handle the rest myself.”

Manny nagged him endlessly, telling him not to be so reckless, but still asked, “So, what time should I come pick you up?”

“Anytime after lunch.”

The car arrived in front of an apartment building. Isaiah got out, carrying the box of ammunition.

As soon as he got home, he took out the empty pistol from under his pillow and loaded it with seven bullets. He thought he’d feel reassured, but surprisingly, he felt little emotion. He pulled a wooden box from under the bed and loaded the remaining pistol inside it as well. But the anxiety still didn’t subside. Instead, he felt even more restless than when he only had the empty gun.

Fortunately, he soon realized the true source of his anxiety.

‘I know Bran is a capable guy, but Chester will be the boss. So, you’d better pick the right side.’

His heart had started pounding right after hearing that from Scarlett. In short, he was shocked by the fact that Bran wouldn’t be appointed boss. After all, he had started this job hearing that Bran would become the boss. Even when he heard talk midway that Cedric seemed to be hesitating, or whatever, he had just snorted, thinking it couldn’t be possible. He had been completely optimistic, believing that if Cedric was in his right mind, he would never pass over Bran to give the boss position to Chester.

Did Bran know? Chester, at least, seemed completely clueless…

He felt he had to tell him quickly somehow, but he had no way to contact him. Should he go to Devereux Financial now and leave a note? If he was lucky, maybe Bran would see it within two days? No, but even if Bran saw it, was there any brilliant solution? Still, it was better than being caught completely unaware…

As he hooked his finger on the trigger, pressing and releasing the pistol’s grip safety, he calmed down a little. Thinking about it in that calmer state, the answer came quickly. The answer that Bran must have known all along.

He was a man incomparably smarter than himself. He must have realized something was wrong when the decision, which should have been announced long ago, was sluggishly postponed. And above all, it made no sense that Bran wouldn’t know something Scarlett knew. Perhaps Bran had known even before Scarlett. No, he definitely did.

‘Seeing as he’s deliberately making you get baptized, it seems he intends to pass the boss position to you.’

‘Or it could be his intention to make people think that.’

Because Bran had said it without a hint of hesitation. At the time, Isaiah had thought it was simple modesty, but it wasn’t. It was literally something Bran said because he knew Cedric’s intentions.

“…..”

His heart, which had been pounding wildly just moments before, quieted as if by magic. He felt his pulse slow and his body temperature drop instantly. He could feel, in real time, his fingertips growing cold and the finger hooked on the pistol’s trigger losing sensation.

If Bran already knew Cedric’s decision, why hadn’t he told him? Carrying out the plan with himself as boss versus carrying it out with Chester as boss were worlds apart. There was also the issue of who would fire first… Whatever happened, did it just mean that all he had to do was shoot Chester?

Actually, that was the easiest way. Wasn’t there even a saying passed around among snipers like an adage: ‘All we need to know is the location of the target’s head’? It meant that knowing anything else—the target’s personal details, their relationship with the client, other miscellaneous circumstances—did no good. Only the target’s exact location and a definite Code Green^[1] signal on the day were valid information.

Isaiah tossed the pistol he was holding back into the wooden box. After putting the remaining bullets back in the box too, he pushed the box deep under the bed. He put the pistol he had tossed onto the bed back under the pillow.

Lying down on the hard pillow, a sigh escaped him automatically. His mind kept wavering back and forth. He himself couldn’t understand why he was being like this. ‘I don’t need anything else, just tell me who I need to shoot’ was what he always demanded from clients. He had said it to Chester several times already.

But why couldn’t he do that with Bran? Even though just a short while ago he had considered secretly shooting Chester, pretending it was a mistake, and then just leaving, why did he now want to be so deeply involved? Why did he keep getting greedy? No, was this really a demand directed at a client?

…No way.

Isaiah looked up at the ceiling and chuckled drily. As if on cue, the area near his left shoulder blade started to itch. The damn henna tattoo had already mostly faded, with only a few words faintly remaining, but this damned itchiness showed no signs of fading. Instead, it got worse day by day, now itching beneath the skin. Sometimes, it itched near his heart, so much so that he couldn’t even sleep.

How on earth could he be saved from this pain? If praying would help, he felt like he could do it a hundred times.

But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. God, save me. Just those words would suffice, but they wouldn’t come out. This was all God’s fault.

‘Still, pray hard. Because someday, an answer will come.’

Before hearing those words, perhaps, but now that he had heard them, he could no longer pray. It wasn’t because his pride was hurt. It was because he didn’t want to be disappointed. God was an immeasurably vast being, and just as distant. And he was small. Calling out until his throat burst once or twice wouldn’t even reach. That fact, which he used to take for granted, felt incredibly despairing today.

In the end, what Isaiah chose was not prayer, but deep breathing. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, just as he had learned at the rehabilitation center. As he repeated this several times, the itchiness faded, and drowsiness washed over him. When he closed his eyes, the image of the man who was once salvation but had now become despair flickered before him. Would he be able to see him tomorrow? He hoped so. On that thread-like hope, despair became salvation again. Isaiah thought he was beyond saving.