BIA Ch. 139

— Thwack!

The distinct, powerful report of the AT rifle reverberated throughout the chapel. The high ceiling seemed to amplify the sound even further. The head of the target, visible in the scope just moments ago, vanished instantly without a trace. The distance was too close.

Well, dying this way or that way didn’t make much difference.

What mattered was that the pain was gone. I hoped Martino would show me at least that much mercy. Probably too much to ask.

Since he already had the gun in hand, Isaiah decided to test the AT rifle’s performance, aiming at the farthest corpses first and pulling the trigger sequentially. At first, the trigger felt a bit stiff, but after firing three or four times, it quickly loosened up.

A chuckle escaped him as he test-fired, checking the rifle’s condition. It reminded him of Bran’s comment that the guy who uses different bullets is self-righteous. He’d felt strangely offended when he heard it, but thinking about it now, it didn’t seem entirely wrong. Here he was, shooting at already dead people just to check his gun’s condition, yet hoping for a peaceful death himself. There was no one more selfish.

It’s okay. They say that’s my charm.

Isaiah smiled faintly and engaged the rifle’s safety. He took one last look around the second floor before heading out, only to run into Bran standing at the entrance to the stairs.

“What the.”

Before the surprised Isaiah could ask why he was here, Bran spoke first.

“I heard gunshots.”

“Ah.”

Isaiah pointed to the rifle in his right hand.

“Just checking its condition.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. No problems.”

He answered as usual and was about to head down the stairs first.

“Then why the long face?”

Isaiah was quite surprised. Not surprised that Bran had noticed, but surprised that he was feeling depressed enough for it to show on his face. He was sure he hadn’t felt anything back in Tayten. He thought it didn’t matter if he died today or tomorrow. Why did he suddenly feel regretful now?

“Isaiah?”

It was probably because of the man standing before him. It was fine when he wasn’t around, but seeing him made him feel regretful again, reluctant to part, wishing for just a little more time.

“No.”

Isaiah lowered his head and smiled. Still, he was grateful that Bran had appeared right when he was thinking he wanted to see him. He was just starting to regret suggesting they go separately.

“It’s because the gun is heavy. The scope, to be precise.”

Isaiah deliberately made a loud “oof” sound as he slung the rifle over his shoulder.

“Look at this.”

He showed Bran the 56mm diameter scope attached to the mount, and Bran nodded as if understanding.

“I saw it earlier and thought it was a rocket launcher.”

“It’s about the size of yours, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Bran smiled and held out his hand.

“Want me to carry it?”

“No need.”

“It’s a burdensome size for you.”

It was a joke with a subtle undertone.

“I take things inside me, what’s the big deal about carrying something?”

Isaiah retorted with the same subtle nuance and headed down the stairs first. A moment later, Bran also started descending. The footsteps that had sounded quite far behind grew closer, and by the time they reached the landing, Bran had completely caught up.

“Give it here.”

Bran blocked Isaiah’s path and held out his hand.

“It’s fi—”

Before Isaiah could refuse, Bran snatched the rifle from his hand. And immediately, he smashed it against the stair railing. To be precise, he smashed the scope on top of the rifle, shattering it, but it amounted to the same thing. A rifle without a scope was as good as scrap metal. Utterly useless.

“What are you doing?”

Isaiah shouted, dumbfounded. Regardless, Bran simply threw the now useless rifle onto the floor and spoke calmly.

“SWAT will be raiding soon.”

“Bran.”

“And the situation outside is almost over.”

Come to think of it, the gunfire from outside had mostly ceased sometime ago.

But it was too early to feel relieved.

“Chester?”

“He’s around somewhere.”

Meaning they hadn’t found him yet.

“Then it’s not over.”

They had to find Chester. Only by killing Chester, the current boss of the Kalisz family, could Bran, the underboss, automatically take his place.

“I’ll handle that myself.”

Bran stated curtly. The tone drew a clear line, and Isaiah, despite knowing it wasn’t the time, felt a little hurt.

“You should head back now. Once SWAT arrives, it’ll be really hard to get out. They said the helicopter took off at 7:10, so it should arrive within five minutes at the latest.”

Bran said, looking at his wristwatch.

“I’ll take you to the building entrance. From there, go with Samuel.”

Isaiah finally realized. Bran hadn’t come because he heard the gunshots. He had come from the start to take him away.

“And that ledger I gave you before? Give it to Samuel. Don’t tell Samuel about the ledger until you reach the place where it’s kept.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Isaiah without him realizing it. He thought Bran had come to spend even a little more time with him. But no, he’d come to kick him out even sooner. They had so little time left together. This was practically the last time they had.

Of course, Bran didn’t know that, which was why he was acting this way. Besides, he was urging him to evacuate for his own safety, not for any other reason. It wasn’t Bran’s fault.

He knew all this, understood it, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He had believed he wasn’t the only one who wanted to stay together until the very end, especially in such an uncertain situation.

“Isaiah.”

Instead of answering, Isaiah pulled a pistol from his back pocket. Bran clicked his tongue as if saying, “Oh, come on.” Isaiah defiantly pushed past Bran’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave when I hear the helicopter.”

“Hey.”

“We haven’t found Chester yet.”

But before he could even descend the first step, he was grabbed again.

“I told you, didn’t I? Coming this far is enough.”

“Let go.”

“The rest is my job.”

Bran said, tightening his grip on Isaiah’s arm.

“From now on, just protect yourself.”

“I don’t need protecting!”

Isaiah wrenched his arm free from Bran’s grasp. Still unable to contain his anger, he furiously kicked at the scattered pieces of the scope lying at his feet.

“Protect what? Look at me, can you still say that?”

“What about the way you look?”

Isaiah was about to shout, Can’t you see?, but the moment he looked at Bran before him, he fell silent. Bran, covered head to toe in blood, looked exactly like him. The dirty clothes, the messy, tangled hair, the gun in one hand. It was like looking in a mirror.

“Hm? What about the way you look?”

Bran asked again. Isaiah still couldn’t answer. Seeing the confusion flickering in Isaiah’s eyes, Bran smiled. He immediately changed the question.

“Then how do I look?”

Dirty? Bran didn’t give Isaiah a chance to answer.

“Is the sight of someone covered in the blood of people they killed repulsive? Horrifying? Like they just crawled out of hell?”

Isaiah quickly shook his head.

It wasn’t like that. No matter how covered in blood, no matter how dusty his clothes were, Bran was still sacred and beautiful. The blood and dust clinging to his body were nothing more than momentary contamination. They had nothing to do with his essence. Besides, once he washed off this blood and dust and put on fresh clothes, he would surely smell good.

“You’re the same.”

Bran smiled, brushing away the dirt smudged on Isaiah’s eyebrow.

“Just as you always see me as the idol from the John Bosco days, in my eyes, you’ll always be the child from back then.”

“..…”

“Smaller and younger than me, yet carrying several times the pain. A child who cries and suffers, scared of bugs I can’t even see.”

So I have to protect you. Bran said, gently pushing back Isaiah’s bangs, which were messy from the wind and stiff with Harold’s dried blood.

“I have to swat away the bugs for you, make sure you never have to do things you hate just because others tell you to. In place of unworthy parents, I have to cherish and treasure you many times over.”