98 THE CULPRITS?

Like the inflexible celerity of a lying tongue, the quality of the milk didn't change as had been agreed and as Lirzod had looked ahead to. The ease with which droplets of milk spilled out of the bowl while the felines quenched their thirst further solidified Lirzod's understanding. This affair seemed akin to how a good many of his clansmen kept burdening the animals by making them overwork time and again, despite being advised otherwise on numerous occasions. He was aware that some habits, especially addictions, were hard to get rid of, but it had always been harder for him to digest the thought that there were people who would smile and promise to do one thing but then never keep their promise, and they would repeat the same thing ad nauseam, either publicly or secretly. Would these people ever stress a little in an attempt to change themselves and keep their promises? Would they ever feel guilty for not living up to their word and for having to constantly lie? Would they ever have remorse for mixing truth with the lies incessantly? Lirzod's little brain could only wonder in the same vein as a callow shepherd who couldn't tell the sheep from the goats.

Regardless, the current situation, with the cats drinking watery milk, left a bad taste in his mouth. From his experience, he knew that animals were much more habitual beings than humans, so it would be so much harder for them to break their habits by themselves. Animals that grew up and lived indoors tend to depend more on their owners for food, to the point that they might prefer starving when they could have just gone out for a stroll in the streets and munched on some leftovers or could have hunted creatures lower on the food chain. So if they weren't fed properly, they would never grow up to their full size. Though some of the cats in the hall looked healthy, there were many cats with empty stomachs, just staring at him, probably hoping he'd drop some food.

Just as Lirzod's knuckles turned white out of frustration, Mikey entered the cat home, looking taxed from all the extra work that he had to do to bring things back to normal since the fight between Lirzod and Hardy had taken place.

Mikey noticed Lirzod straight away. "You are…" he was about to leak out a big smile, but after looking at Lirzod's expression, and especially after realizing where he was looking at, his smile instantly vanished, and his eyes showed a hint of unease and worry. Many cats ran over to Mikey and started meowing and begging for food. He took a few meat pellets out of his waist-bag and threw them on the floor, thereby stopping their crying at least for the time being.

Lirzod gave a blazing glance at Mikey as he pointed his finger at the milk bowl, "What's that in the bowl?"

"Explain what?" Lirzod fully turned to face Mikey, who had long stopped coming any closer. After just realizing that Mikey had thrown some food to the cats, Lirzod loosened his fists, trying his best to control his emotions and not show it on his face, but it wasn't easy, which caused him to pause for a bit. "I'm seriously disappointed in you and your commander," his voice was quick and heavy from carrying a sense of sadness, almost like the whimpering of a wounded puppy.

"Please first listen to our side, sir," Mikey's voice now had a tinge of respect, and the pace of his speech also sped up as he did his best to curtain his fear. "Whatever you may be thinking, that's not what happened."

Lirzod exhaled hot air through his nose. He could almost imagine Mikey in place of one of his clansmen steering his way by lying through their teeth.

"Let me explain," Mikey hurriedly continued, for he felt silence to be a lot more unsettling. "Actually, the money you've given was stored in the depository. We were intending to use it solely for the cats. The last person to have opened the depository was the former referee, Jehez. Only the commander and the referee had the keys to that room. Jehez reported to the commander that he lost the key during the incident, you know, that fight between you and the five brothers. Afterward, when the commander opened the depository, everything seemed alright. Nothing was stolen. However…" He seemed quite hesitant to speak the rest.

"However, what?" Lirzod was not in the mood to stretch things. He was already beginning to regret the large donation he had made.

"However, just the money you've donated went missing," Mikey's expression warped with consternation and culpability.

Lirzod's eyes broadened like a quake splitting a valley open. "Huh?" His heart shrunk like a hole in the sand as if trying to bury the emotion, but his lips still trembled, and his mouth bent into a weird shape as frustration and disbelief ran amok inside him, "W-What?"

"We were trying to find the thief since then," Mikey's voice was honest but not as convincing, thanks to him sporting the face of a guilty cat. "We also had our suspicion on Jehez, but yesterday, we received the news of his death. It only added more confusion."

"You didn't steal that money, did you?" Lirzod words flew in his face like a stone. He was doing his best to stand rooted, afraid of otherwise running up to Mikey and punching him in the face.

"Haha," Mikey laughed at his own inability to pull off such a thing. "I, too, am under suspicion of stealing that money if that makes you feel any better."

Lirzod didn't say anything; however, there was still an ample amount of annoyance and unease crossing his face as though some invisible kittens had been clawing at him.

"Don't worry, sir," Mikey affirmed, trying to manifest the recipe of troth through his words, "even if we don't find the thief, the milk we give to the cats will be improved thanks to a new rule that got passed because of you. Since bettings always take place, some share from the bettors' profits will greatly help take better care of the cats. The new referee is a tough guy, so I'm sure things will be okay." As he was saying, Lirzod just walked past him and left the room, waving his arms slowly but steadily.

Form inside the twelfth deck, it was hard to tell when the morning began or ended, thanks to all the fog around the ship blinding their view completely, most of the time. However, there were crywatches, tools that helped people know the time of the day of one region or more. For ordinary folks, it was a mystery as to how those things worked. Still, educated people generally knew how to read one, even though operating them was a different thing. Crywatches came in all sizes, shapes, colors, and some even had glowing scales on them as if they had grown out of the skin.

Currently, in the test hall, only a handful of people out of the thousands that gathered had crywatches. And one of them, the one who was nearest to the cat home, was getting his flesh cut because a crywatch had integrated with the skin. He couldn't even sleep because of that for three days, so he was done with it. After the flesh was cut and tended, he felt much better. "Next time I'll buy a regular crywatch, though, only after this wound heals completely. But if I had more money, I'd have bought a crycast," he sighed and then went and stood alongside the other people.

Around the same place where people always competed with the cats in the ring, everybody stood in lines with quickened heartbeats. The atmosphere wasn't gloomy but definitely tense. Most people had their bodies worn with sweat, whereas some visibly shivered or showed some sense of anxiety. Many expressed different emotions, but the most common emotion exhibited was fear. Like a thief in the night, it kept robbing them of confidence by the second.

In the center of everyone, also in the center of the cat ring, lay Jehez's cadaver in an open coffin. Two bowls of incense placed on either side of the coffin produced aroma that masked the less pleasing odor that time whipped up.

Sean was standing next to the coffin, and four of Hardy Brothers, except for Fimbry, were also present nearby, but they were seated on the floor, their arms bound to their back, wrists tied with thick ropes. Moreover, they seemed to be wounded, though not to the point they couldn't speak.

Lirzod silently walked over and placed the bouquet together with the flowers that were placed next to the coffin. There was a clear difference between Lirzod's bouquet and other bouquets because instead of buying from a shop, he had plucked some flowers from street-side trees and wrapped them up with paper to make a bouquet. He had made two of them. He had to come up with this idea, owing to his shortage of coins.

Lirzod looked at Jehez's face, and complex yet subtle emotions stirred up in his heart, but not much showed on his face. He found it hard to imagine this fellow died so suddenly. Looking at those flowers laid all around Jehez in the coffin, his emotions and thoughts brought forth a question out of the depths of his mind, "I've never fully understood why people offer more flowers to someone after they died than when they were alive and well. Are all these flowers here out of present sorrows or due to past regrets? I guess I'll never know," he let out a long sigh, which let him feel the incense in the air all the more. "I've known you for only a little while, Mr. Jehez, but I hope you rest well."

He stayed still, staring at Jehez for a good ten seconds; he knew that he would never be able to speak with him again, not that he had wanted to. Still, as he saw it, death was the most merciless of all things. If Jehez deserved to die with a mystery surrounding his sudden demise, then what would death deserve for killing countless people since the dawn of man? Definitely, deathless durance in the darkest place there ever was. Whether death deserved such fate or not, either way, Lirzod was acutely aware that he was far weaker than his sworn enemy, so much that he had always struggled to digest the news of some random person dying, much less if that person was someone held dear to his heart. Even now, the ambiance of the hall weighed him down by bringing back some unpleasant memories.

After innocently staring at Jehez for some time, Lirzod went and joined the lines of men. Though the Hardy Brothers had long-sighted him, they were neither in the mood nor in the right place to run their tongues. Still, a couple of them looked daggers at him. Lirzod, however, hadn't even looked at the brothers, except for once.

At first, Lirzod had imagined that the people were all being silent as they were paying tribute to the dead person; however, as minutes went by, he realized that he was wrong. Some people kept chattering silently, and at some point, his ears caught onto a conversation.

"If those brothers aren't the murderers, then why are they still tied up like that?"

"No idea. All I know is that Jehez died many hours before the Hardy Brothers were seen entering J Block. So they no longer have to worry about getting sentenced to death, but they still are among the suspects, I guess."

"I see."

"No. Those brothers got tied up for a different reason. They went to the foster hall and tried to steal some items from the treasury, or so I was told."

"What? I didn't think they were so fiendish. Trying to steal from a foster hall is like stealing food from the poor. No wonder they are suffering like this now."

"But if these guys didn't murder Jehez, then who did?"

"Isn't that the reason why we're here? To find out where this thing takes us."

"Jehez had a lover. Does anyone know where she is?"

"Yeah, I saw her spending time in private with some clown. So much for a lover. Not coming here to pay her respect is one thing, but she's already hooking up with another man, some creep who rides a freaking ass."

"Maybe, she's just letting someone console her in this hard time."

"Ah, spare me that donkey-shit, would you? She just loved Jehez for 'dough.' Now that he's gone, she couldn't care less. I hope that little minx will be thoroughly grilled."

After hearing similar conversations, Lirzod could only look at the coffin and wonder about what would have happened. Lirzod knew that Jehez did shady dealings, and whoever he might have had offended, and whether his death was a suicide or a murder, it felt meaningless and unnecessary. Squeezel, someone who was very close to Lirzod, once told him that cruelty wouldn't correct a crooked heart. If it did, then wars wouldn't endlessly wreck the world, the regimes wouldn't continue to be drunk on violence and corruption, and every criminal sent to a prison where physical and mental torture prevailed would come out as a saint. In view of such conviction, if Jehez had committed suicide, he gave up his life for nothing, and even if he had been, in truth, murdered, then whoever had done that in the dark was corrupting themselves even more by taking pleasure in cruel means. At the moment, whatever the truth was, Lirzod felt bad for Jehez, for even if he had been murdered, would punishing the culprit bring him back to life? The damage was already done.

Time passed, and nobody was leaving, so Lirzod was feeling rather bored, except that more than the boredom, the tittle-tattling of others vexed him. He wanted to leave, but he didn't want to do it first. Though he noticed Hundred standing in a different line, he didn't want to go to him, either. In the end, he stood still while worrying that he might soon grow roots under his feet.

"What's the meaning of this?" Sean started to speak just at that moment, his voice reaching many ears. "You people are all chitter-chattering even now instead of being silent. Hmph, since when did you guys even have the sensitivity to pay respects to a dead man? Did you perhaps come to show the difference between you and animals? Even still, it changes nothing, absolutely nothing. There is but one difference between you all and animals. You can put on clothes—that's all. That's the only freaking difference that's coming to my mind right now. How much more hopeless can you get? To think you would stoop so low as to attack the suspects..."

The moment Sean stopped speaking, the hall went silent all of a sudden, only to soon be replaced by the sound of footsteps steadily growing on their ears. A golden-haired man in a white blazer just entered the hall. He was tall as a tree, and when some people turned their heads to look at him, his sharp, focused gaze alone set off chills up and down their spines, and they made way for him, whether they knew of his identity or not.

"Mm?" Lirzod glanced at the hazel-green eyed man casually as he walked past the scar-faced boy and stopped at the cat ring.

"So many flowers. A lot more than I expected," the golden-haired man took a look at the funeral coffin and spoke in a reserved tone. "Grief is clearly much easier to sell than gratitude. From what I've heard, this Jehez didn't have a clean image, but still, quite many people came here to pay their respects. As Godrick said, I guess, death can really flip a fool's image. This makes me wonder what my funeral would look like."

"Captain Gorka," Sean slightly bowed for a couple of seconds, and then stood right, but then received a sudden slap at that moment. The sound of a solid slap echoed in everyone's ears and popped their eyes out in shock.

However, nobody said a word. The entire hall fell as silent as Jehez.

"If you don't know how to run a deck, then don't become a commander," Gorka coldly said, not even looking at Sean. "You are dismissed. You have two options. Either go back to the tenth deck or find the murderer and then meet me."

Sean stayed silent, with his head tilted down and a hand planted on his cheek. Every onlooker was shocked. Who was Sean? He was someone they wouldn't dare to touch, not only due to his position but also because of his strength, character, and reputation. To humiliate a person of such stature in public, only a captain of the belt could do that. Even though people were only watching, many of them couldn't control their heart from beating erratically. Some knees couldn't stop from putting themselves into pendulum-like motion.

"Do you want me to repeat my words?" Gorka stressed his words.

"Sorry for everything, sir," Sean frowned and then began to walk away.

Seeing the commander leave helplessly, all men and women felt that the gravity in the hall spike up, and each of their legs grew heavier.

"All of you..." Gorka now looked at everyone that included both the entries and hollows, a crowd upward of ten thousand, not counting those outside the hall. "Till we reach the destination, none of you shall climb up the decks anymore. You are only allowed to roam in these three lower decks, 10, 11, and 12 from now on."

The glow in everybody's face vanished without a trace as silence once again played with their egos and fears.

"If you all have no problem, that'll be it," Gorka said and was walking toward the coffin.

Nobody from the crowd dared to open their mouths, even though they all wanted to. But who would dare speak up in front of a captain?

"Wait!" at that time, a voice rang out. Everybody looked toward the source, and it was Pannu. "I—pass—deck test. Commander still kept me here but allowed three girls to climb. Logic. Logically, I already should be gone. And I—no participation—in beating Hardy brothers."

Gorka glanced back at Pannu. "If you didn't participate in it, then what were you doing?"

"Papapa, eating nuts..." Pannu said, to which some people from the crowd banged their heads with their hands.

"Committing an offense is a crime on this ship, but so is watching a crime happen and doing nothing to stop it," Gorka said. "This deck's referee died yesterday, and nobody knows the killers who were smart enough to destroy all the gadgets that were used for surveillance. But that's not the big issue here. The key to the depository has gone missing. Some wealth was stolen. And then the referee mysteriously hanged himself. Also, someone saw the Hardy brothers enter the referee's room, but nobody knows who that someone is. As if that's not enough, so many of you people ganged up on those brothers before they were even proven guilty, but we don't know who those people are, name by name. With unknown variables present in every single clue we have, how can the culprit ever be caught?"

"The culprits? Who cares! I don't care if Hardy brothers get beaten, or if the referee gets killed," Pannu said at his own slow pace, without moving his jaw. "All I care—stuffing my stomach—good sleep all night. If standing and watching a crime is a crime, give appropriate punishment to me, but staying in this deck throughout the journey is nowhere near justifiable for doing nothing," maybe because of frustration, he was able to speak long sentences without break.

"In these hundred lowest floors..." a card, with an octopus of the third order and its stats printed on it, slid down from within his sleeves and fell in Gorka's hand, though it looked to others as if it just appeared out of nowhere. "My words are justice." With a slick flick of his wrist, the card flew out of his hand and heavily struck Pannu's belly and effortlessly lifted him off the floor and carried him over the people's heads and banged him into the distant wall.

Pannu was knocked out cold, with his eyes turned completely white. From his mouth, he spilled out much more stomach fluids than an average human would. Many groundnuts that he had stuffed in his pant pockets fell and spread out on the floor. The octopus card traversed through the air before it came back and fell in between Groka's fingers, the forefinger, and the middle finger.

"If anyone else got objections, they can come forward as well," Gorka calmly stated, but none of the members even dared to look in his eyes and just stared down at the floor. "Good..." Gorka turned and began to walk away, with his hands elegantly placed in his pockets.

"Excuse me, sir..." a voice rang out from within the crowd, like before, but everybody was even more surprised this time because the voice came from someone who was partly responsible for most of what had happened. It was a boy wearing mismatched armor.