Manshur.

That was the name of this city before it was renamed Concord.

However, even back then, the city was rife with rival factions, and the territory was divided into three districts.

To the average person, the Manshur Campaign ended with the capture of the city.

Norwich fell first, in just a few hours.

The residents of Como surrendered without a fight.

Except for Southville... The territory of those who were most loyal to the Iron Heart. They didn’t surrender at all and were ready to fight to the very end.

Apparently, the genocide of an entire people wasn’t part of Big Brother’s plan, so he offered these people a deal...

And after that, every single resident of Concord, without exception, ended up with a Neodeck implanted in their head.

That was the part of the story that Mr. Nobody knew.

"Padre," he called to the man in the wheelchair, bowing his head slightly.

In a world where the loss of a limb was not fatal, and implants were accessible to most... he had chosen to remain in a wheelchair.

With a creak, the wheelchair turned toward him.

The man, with clear, wise brown eyes for his age, looked him over.

"Nobody... I was waiting for you." The old man’s dark wrinkles gathered into a strange squint, and his gaze focused on his shoulder. "What little miracle did you bring here?"

"Oh, this..." He smiled awkwardly, scratching the cat under the chin. "It’s a cat."

"...Your cat?"

"She’s not... mine. She’s just the cat."

"Oh... Remarkable." The old man slowly scratched the gray hairs on his chin. "I don’t think I’ve seen a cat... in eighty years? Are they supposed to look like this?"

"Um, I don’t know. This is the only one I’ve ever seen in my life."

"I see..." Schrödinger nodded knowingly. "You’ve come a long way, boy. May I offer you a glass of wine?"

"...I wouldn’t mind."

...

A couple of minutes later, he was sitting in a rocking chair by the table, his back straight, gazing thoughtfully into the darkness of the crimson wine.

At the same time, the old man folded his hands on the table and gazed nostalgically at the photographs.

"...What’s on your mind, boy?" he asked suddenly. "Why did you come to me?"

"I... I came to you for something, Padre. I need help. I need to know something."

"To know... We all crave that until we understand what knowledge truly brings. Why do you want it?"

"It... should help me find a way that will help with my next contract."

"Is that really all?" Schrödinger smiled wearily and, setting the photograph aside, looked at him. "Why did you really come?"

"..."

Staring at his own reflection in the dark wine, he wondered what expression he really had on his face right now.

"Come on, boy, take off your mask when you speak to me."

"..."

He glanced at the cat. Setting down his glass, he slowly pulled the mask off his face and gently lifted the pet onto his lap.

Now he was looking at his true reflection in her eyes.

"That’s better... Now tell me, what’s on your mind?"

"I..." He sighed heavily. "I think I’m being hunted."

"...Hunted?" Judging by his tone, Schrödinger could hardly believe his ears.

"Yes. Marcel told you about that strange gig, right?. That puzzle, the missing client..."

"Do you have any proof?"

He shook his head and stood up from the chair, holding the cat in his arms.

"But there are so many coincidences... Too many. I don’t know why, but right now it feels like I’m the target. I know how that sounds, but..." He turned toward the table. "With every fiber of my being, I feel that they... or he, are trying to catch me."

The numerous wrinkles on Schrödinger’s face deepened even further.

For a while, he simply tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table until he asked:

"Who... are they?"

He nervously scratched his ashen hair.

"I have three suspects. The first is Noir—a mercenary who works for the Wolves but despises them. He offered me a joint contract, and to be honest, I’m planning to accept it partly just to keep him close... so I can watch him."

"..." Listening intently, the cat barely twitched an ear.

"Why do you think he’s plotting something against you?"

"He’s... strange. Unusual. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve never met anyone like him. I don’t know what he wants or what he’s after, but for now... I think he’s just probing me. Watching. Even though he saved me once, he’s still one of my main suspects... And there’s something else. He doesn’t have a shadow."

"No... shadow?"

"Yes."

Schrödinger covered his face with his hands and leaned forward over the table.

For a moment, something dark flickered in his eyes—like a memory he didn’t want to revisit.

"Next... Detective. A powerful man, at least at the Second Step of Concord. He appeared completely out of the blue and seemed almost made to counter someone like me..." He sighed. "You must know the details of my previous contract. It’s hard to imagine that such a serious person was needed for this case; that’s never happened before. Unless there’s some other special reason, this is just wrong... And wolves in suits don’t operate like that."

"..." Schrödinger was still silent.

Mr. Nobody paced the office, unaware that he was clutching the cat in his hands.

"And the last one... An unknown client who arranged my assignment, however, it suited him. I don’t know why or how everything was done exactly this way. You could chalk it up to a coincidence... But even this coincidence is too perfect."

"...Do you have any leads pointing to him?" Schrödinger finally spoke up.

"I think I’ve found something." He nodded. "The Dirty Baals were definitely overseen by someone from the Neocorp tower. I couldn’t track down those specific people, and it’s unlikely they left any traces while working with the Scavengers... But there’s another possibility."

"I’m listening."

"I realized that even the production of illegal goods is tied to the Neocorp tower. I’ve been trying for a long time to figure out where this drug — Black Ice — comes from. I always knew its origins were tied to the suits... but now I’m certain it’s being overseen by someone higher up." He let the cat down and held up three fingers. "The waitress who got a job at Marcel’s bar, the Bengou band, and... one unpleasant old man from the Wolves’ cleanup squad. People from completely different social groups are all connected to this drug. It’s obvious that the threads from all of them lead to someone significant and powerful... someone who can easily remain unnoticed. I think that by tracking down whoever’s behind them, I’ll end up in the right circles and gradually track down this client."

"Three suspects... and against each of them, you want to take a risk and strike preemptively."

"Yes... But ultimately, I pray that it isn’t Detective. That’s not something I can handle yet."

"Three suspects..." Schrödinger repeated again and finally pulled his hands away to look at him. "And you think one of them is trying to hunt you down?"

"...Yes." He didn’t like the old man’s tone, but he disliked what followed even more.

"But what if it’s not just one person... but all of them together?"

"..." His heart sank. His eyes widened.

Schrödinger was seized by a fit of dry coughing. He patted his chest, then sighed heavily.

"Haah... Tell me, boy — how can I help you? What do you want to know?"

Mr. Nobody clenched his fist, then leaned on the table.

It sounded crazy... but he was sure this was exactly what he needed.

"Tell me, padre... How do I reach the First Step of Knowledge?"