Chapter 16 Part 1

“I suggest you go die already.” Hastur shoved the sailor aside and floated up the staircase without a backward glance.

Dustin trailed behind him, hunching like he wanted to burrow into a hole in the ground. “I thought our original plan was to sneak in here and keep a low profile while completing the mission!”

Hastur figured finishing the task was what mattered. “Haven’t we successfully boarded the ship?”

Dustin: “…Yeah, pretty successfully.”

“Just you wait. In ten minutes, everyone on this whole ship will know there’s a passenger who slept with a crew member, but it turned into a lovers’ spat gone sour. Now one’s asking the other, ‘You wanna die together?’ while the other snaps back, ‘Go die quick!'”

A low thrum of music drifted from inside the cabin as they reached the top of the stairs.

Dustin fell silent. Hastur followed the waiter through the corridor and arrived at the grand theater on the lower deck.

A towering tower of champagne glasses stood at the theater entrance, the golden liquid inside gleaming with an enticing honeyed glow under the lights.

Every time a guest stepped into the grand theater, a waiter would pluck a glass from the tower with a beaming smile and hand it over.

“What’s that?” Dustin whispered warily, sidling up to Hastur. “Why are they handing out drinks to enter the theater? Is there something in the booze? Drugs? Or some biotech additive?”

“Unlikely. I don’t smell any ‘additives.'” Hastur suddenly remembered something and pulled out the mission reward they’d gotten at the start from beneath his yellow robe—the Cradle Cult’s Damaged Log.

The log was well-preserved. The golden liquid on the paper looked like it had only just dried. Beneath the smeared wet stains was what appeared to be a recipe for some kind of beverage.

Dustin squinted to make out the words. “‘…Drink the Golden Honey Wine… and the body and soul will fall into stasis, as the Byakhee carries us through space…'”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “No way that’s for real, right?”

A week ago, the staunchly scientific Detective Dustin never would’ve asked something like that. But now Hastur himself was standing right beside him!

Hastur’s interest was somewhat piqued. He floated over to the waiter and took a glass—

But the waiter’s hand deftly twisted away, evading the mental tentacle Hastur had extended.

A flash of green light gleamed in the waiter’s pretty brown eyes. G8273 lifted the glass to his nose and sniffed. “Linden honey, aloe, ephedra, wheat flour… aged in oak barrels with some gaudy gold leaf added. The odds of this stuff ‘stagnating the soul’ are next to nothing.”

He raised his gaze and gave Hastur a meaningful look. “Have you ever had alcohol before?”

“No. Is there a problem?” Hastur floated straight to the tower and levitated a glass down for himself. “What lofty opinion are you about to share now?”

“No lofty opinions. I haven’t had any either.” The waiter eyed the lovely liquid in his glass with novel curiosity, a hint of regret in his tone. “So to be safe, at least one of us needs to stay sober. Since you want to try it, I’ll pass.”

G8273 politely set down the glass he’d sniffed on a table piled with empty ones. In the next instant, he shifted into a dignified young gentleman who was about to enter, gesturing invitingly to Hastur. “Shall we?”

“…” Hastur heard Detective Dustin hissing frustratedly behind him, like his teeth ached. Considering the detective’s fragile nerves, he glided into the theater instead. As he took a seat in the back row, the overhead lights dimmed.

The theater fell quiet, save for some murmurs and the occasional latecomer shuffling in.

G8273 casually slipped on a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes, which glowed too obviously in the dark. “Check out rows three to five in the left section.”

“?” Hastur was still savoring the golden honey wine humans had brewed. He glanced left at the prompt.

“Those are the Nirvana Gang’s top brass. The one in the brown suit in the middle is the current leader.” G8273 murmured softly. “Now look at the side door on the right leading into the theater. See that group in white suits, grinning all cocky? Those are the young hotshots the Nirvana Gang’s promoted recently.”

Dustin fidgeted restlessly in the seat to Hastur’s left, looking like he wanted to draw his gun or leap overboard right then. “Why would Coran invite both these groups at once? Isn’t he afraid the cruise ship will sail out to sea and he’ll have to swim back to shore?”

“Nirvana Gang infighting?” Hastur tossed out offhandedly. He was still regretting that his senses could taste the flavor but lacked the capacity for true enjoyment.

So far, the only time he’d felt anything like “enjoyment” was last night, when his materialized form let him sleep soundly.

“Infighting? That’s putting it mildly.”

A familiar voice sounded from right behind them.

Hastur whipped around to see Finnian—who was supposed to be getting treatment in Delirium District—sitting there.

Unlike rookies like Hastur and G8273, who were tasting alcohol for the first time and being cautious enough to keep one of them sober for cleanup duty, this guy was clearly an old hand.

His classic cocktail glass was already empty. He was clutching a bottle of whiskey in one hand, pouring himself another. “They’re itching for a meteor to drop from the sky and wipe out the other side.”

Hastur carefully inspected Finnian’s precious point-generating treasure of a body. “Your cybernetic body is fully repaired?”

“K swapped in some new parts for me.” Finnian spread his hand, revealing an arm indistinguishable from flesh and nearly impossible to tell had mechanical implants. “He knew I had one last grudge to settle today, so he loaded me up with the heavy stuff.”

Hastur’s attention was fixed on Finnian’s status panel, which showed another big jump in numbers. He sighed contentedly, marveling at where else he could find an employee who generated points, could be moved anywhere needed, and auto-upgraded. Meanwhile, Detective Dustin whipped his head around in utmost alarm. “Grudge?”

Finnian flashed a bold, sweet smile at the gray-haired detective and topped off the man’s empty glass with some whiskey. “Of course.”

“The Nirvana Gang’s old guard is ancient, practically in the grave, but they’ve finally wised up. They’re thinking about Phoenix District’s future, reining in all the illegal, ultra-violent businesses. That’s why they approached me a few months back to talk cooperation with the Zane Gang.”

Finnian refilled Hastur’s glass too, then pointed toward the right entrance. “But that ambitious bunch of youngsters doesn’t see it that way.”

“They think the old leader and his cronies have gone soft with age, lost their old fire and guts, and are just trying to play it safe to survive.”

“So half a month ago, they went to Gavin and cut a deal to assassinate me and seize power. Gavin agreed, which led to that betrayal a few days back.”

In other words, Finnian’s revenge targets weren’t just the Zane Gang traitors who’d stabbed him in the back—they included the Nirvana Gang’s left-wing faction that had used the Zane Gang to try and take him out.

“???” Detective Dustin said. “You’re not planning to throw down right here on the cruise ship, are you?”

Hastur unconditionally backed his point powerhouse, but he nodded halfway before catching himself. “—At least wait until the transfer contracts are signed. And the ship—don’t wreck it. I still want to sell it for cash.”

“— ” Detective Dustin’s head spun, and he couldn’t help glancing at G8273. “You gonna say something?”

G8273 was still eyeing the glass in Hastur’s hand. By now, the liquid inside had taken on a beautiful golden-honey hue, clear yet thick. “Like I said, I won’t meddle in human squabbles.”

Hastur gently swirled the glass, watching the liquid mix and form a thin layer of milky white.

But more than the magical fusion in the glass, he preferred savoring the aura exploding from Detective Dustin in that instant:

Irritation—toward others, toward himself.

Regret, disappointment, resentment, resolve, and a touch of bitter forgiveness.

He caught the scents of parting, like the aftertaste of bitter coffee.

Hastur’s eyes shifted. Before Dustin could stand and declare, “Fine, guess I’ll go it alone,” he spoke up. “Scan the passengers on board with your brain core, Detective. No innocents—not on any police wanted lists—will die today.”

G8273 shot Hastur a quick glance, looking somewhat surprised.

“…” Dustin’s legs tensed halfway, then he hesitated and sat back down. “For real? —Scanning now.”

Zzz…

The theater’s speakers suddenly buzzed with a harsh whine. A stiff, solemn voice boomed from them:

“The banquet has officially begun.”

“No spawn of technology shall be permitted at this feast. The King in Yellow’s mysteries will envelop this ship, shielding it from technological corruption.”

The King in Yellow, this king: “?”

What mysteries? How come he didn’t know about them? —And why no tech? He himself was still gaming on a holographic helmet.

G8273 helpfully translated beside him. “This must be some human romantic rhetoric. What they really mean is ‘The ship’s got a signal jammer. No outside contact from now on.'”

“Why install something like that…” Finnian set down his bottle. His gray-blue eyes gleamed in the dark, fixed on the stage like a lion before the hunt.

The theater’s side lights dimmed too. The spotlights atop the stage snapped on with a click.

The black curtains slid silently to the sides, revealing a stage set up like an opulent palace chamber.

Hastur’s gaze locked onto the stage backdrop behind the room:

It was a massive curtain, its bottom edge depicting a lake shimmering with ripples, while above stretched a pink sky. Two hollow, black suns hung in that sky, and staring at them for too long induced a strange illusion—as if one were gazing at some living thing lurking in the abyss.

A female actress, dressed in opulent finery with a strikingly radiant and heroic beauty, stepped onto the stage. The black-robed choristers on the stage’s right began to chant in low tones:

“…The Queen ponders in her chamber…”

“…disturbing the waters of Lake Hali.”

“…From the depths of Hyades, the twin suns slowly sink into the calm lake…”

Wait, what’s Hyades?

The inner voice suddenly piped up, urging him warily:

Ask these cultists! That name fills me with disgust! Is it some monster like the Hydra?

Hastur wanted to know too, so he leaned forward slightly, preparing to consult the guest in the seat ahead.

In the darkness, G8273 suddenly leaned in close. His steady, powerful hand hovered to block Hastur’s mental tentacles.

“You may not have noticed, but with your current pollution level, the poor gentleman in front couldn’t survive even a single ‘greeting’ from you.”

He whispered in Hastur’s ear:

“So it’s best if I bear that ‘honor’ alone.”

“—Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

Finnian, seated in the row behind: “…??”

Goosebumps erupted all over his body as he clung to the back of Dustin’s seat and whispered urgently to the detective: “I remember I was only gone for a morning, not a decade?”

How did these two hit it off!