The Safe Haven Incident Part 3

Later, I got this background to the story.

Schmitt, defensive team leader for the Divine Dragon Alliance

and notable front-line figure, didn't go to bed after returning to

his chambers in the safety of the guild headquarters. He didn't

even remove his armor.

His room was deep within the stone castle—fortress, really—

and without a window. Not only that, the building was impossible

to enter for nonmembers, so he was perfectly safe as long as he

was in his room. But no matter how much he told himself that, he

couldn't help but stare at the doorknob.

The moment he took his eyes off it, would it turn without a

sound? Would the silent, shadowy, hooded figure of the grim

reaper sneak in and stand behind him without him realizing it?

Others thought of him as a stalwart, fearless tank, but as a

matter of fact, the motivation that kept him among the ranks of

the top players of the game was none other than the fear of death

itself.

On the day we were all trapped in this game, a year and a half

ago, he stayed in the center square of the Town of Beginnings and

thought. No, agonized. What could he do to avoid dying? The

most surefire means was not to take a step out of the city. There

was absolute protection within the purview of the Anti-Criminal

Code, so there was no fear of losing a single pixel of his HP—the

numerical representation of his life.

But as an athlete in real life, Schmitt understood that the rules

could change at any time. Who could state for a certainty that

SAO's rule about the towns being absolutely safe would remain

constant, to the very moment the game was beaten? What if one

day, the code simply stopped working, and all manner of monsters poured into town? Those players who never stepped out of

the Town of Beginnings and never earned a single experience

point would be completely helpless.

If he were going to survive, he needed to be stronger. And in a

safe way, without any risk. After a full day of pondering his position, Schmitt chose to be "tough."

First, he went to an armory and bought the toughest-looking

armor and shield that his purse would allow, then used the remainder to purchase a long polearm. Out of the many impromptu

parties soliciting members at the north gate, he applied to join

the one that promised the safest activity. Their first hunt involved

ten people surrounding and killing the weakest monsters in SAO:

small boars.

Since then, Schmitt chose to make up for the low pay of such

activity with sheer time. His leveling pace couldn't match the

beaters, who played in small parties or solo, risking powerful foes

for great reward, but his never-ending fixation on "toughness"

eventually took him to the rank of team leader in the prestigious

DDA guild.

His hard work was worth it: Schmitt's maximum HP, armor

strength, and various defensive skills were almost certainly the

greatest to be found in all of Aincrad.

With his massive guard lance in one hand and a tower shield

in the other, he knew he could handle front-facing attacks from

three or four mobs of his level for a good thirty minutes. To

Schmitt, those who wore paper-thin leather armor or focused on

damage-dealing with non-defensive weapons—even certain solo

players dressed all in black, whom he'd met just minutes before—

might as well have been insane. In truth, the build with the lowest

possibility of death was a tank covered in thick armor. And because they sacrificed power to do that, it was vital that they join a

large party to make use of their talents.

In any case, Schmitt had finally achieved the ultimate toughness, the only thing that could nullify his fear of death. Or so he

had thought.

But vast sums of HP, high-level armor, defensive skills, and all

other manner of systematic defenses meant nothing to a killer

who could bypass them. And after all this time and effort, such a

person was coming after him.

He didn't really believe it was a ghost. But even that wasn't a

certainty anymore. The grim reaper had slipped through the absolute rule of the Anti-Criminal Code like black mist and callously, easily taken two lives with wimpy little spears and daggers. Was that not the work of a digital ghost, the aftermath of all

of her rage and resentment, imprinted into the NerveGear?

In that case, solid fortress walls, that heavy lock on the door,

and the protection of the guild building meant nothing.

She was coming. She would come for him tonight, after he had

fallen asleep. And with a third barbed weapon, she would stab

him and steal his life.

Schmitt sat on his bed, head held in his silver gauntlets, and

thought desperately.

There was only one way to escape her revenge. He would beg

forgiveness—get on his knees, press his forehead to the ground,

groveling and apologizing, until her anger abated. He would

admit to his one crime—a means to find greater strength and

toughness, and use it as a launching pad to a better guild—and repent with all of his heart. If he did this, even a real ghost would

surely forgive him. He had been manipulated. He had been taken

for a ride, tempted into a tiny little crime—in fact, it wasn't even a

crime, just a bit of poor manners. He couldn't have realized what

a tragedy it would lead to.

Schmitt unsteadily got to his feet, opened his inventory, and

materialized one of the tons of teleport crystals he kept for emergencies. He clutched it with weak fingers, took a deep breath, and

in a hoarse voice, mumbled, "Teleport: Labergh."

His sight filled with blue light. When it subsided, he was

standing amid the night.

It was after ten o'clock, and on a floor far removed from most

player activity, so the nineteenth-floor teleport square was completely empty. The stores around were all shuttered, and there

were no NPCs walking about, so it almost felt like he was out in

the open wilderness, despite being in town.

Just half a year ago, Golden Apple had a small guild home on

the outskirts of this town. It should have been a familiar sight,

but Schmitt felt alienated, like the town was shunning him.

His body trembled in fear underneath his thick armor. He

walked on unsteady legs for the edge of town. After twenty minutes out of the town, he came to a small hill. It was in the open, of

course, not protected by the Anti-Criminal Code. But Schmitt had

a very firm reason for being there. It was his only means to escape

the wrath of the robed harbinger of death.

He dragged his resisting legs up to the top of the hill and

found what he was looking for beneath a single twisted tree at the

top. Schmitt kept his distance, quaking all the while.

It was a weathered, mossy gravestone. The grave of Griselda,

lady swordsman and leader of Golden Apple. The pale moonlight,

which emanated from nowhere in particular, drew a shadow of

the cross on the dry ground. Barren branches overhead creaked

in the occasional breeze.

The tree and grave were just environmental details, objects

placed by a designer to create an aesthetic effect, and nothing

deeper. But on the day Golden Apple disbanded, a few days after

Griselda's death, the remaining seven players had decided to

make that her grave, and they stuck the longsword that was their

memento of her into the earth. Technically, they just laid it at the

foot of the grave and allowed the durability to slowly run out until

it vanished.

So there was no name on the grave. But there was no other

place to go to apologize to Griselda.

Schmitt fell to his knees and crawled miserably over to the

grave. He pressed his forehead to the sandy ground, his teeth

chattering, as he used all of his willpower to open his mouth,

emitting a voice that was quite clear, all things considered.

"I'm sorry…I apologize…Forgive me, Griselda! I…I didn't think

that would happen…I never imagined that it would lead to you

getting murdered!!"

"Really…?"

It was a voice. A woman's voice, oddly echoing, bouncing off

the ground from above.

Trying desperately to retain his quickly vanishing consciousness, Schmitt looked upward.

From the shadows of the gnarled branches came a silent figure

dressed in black. Specifically, a hooded black robe. With dangling

sleeves. The contents of the hood were invisible in the darkness of

night.

But Schmitt felt the cold gaze emanating from that depth. He

held his hands over his mouth to trap in a bloodcurdling scream,

then repeated, "I-it's true. I didn't hear any details. I just…I just

did what I was told…It was just a little…Just a little…"

"What did you do…? What did you do to me, Schmitt…?"

With bulging eyes, Schmitt caught sight of a dark, slender

curve, sliding out of the sleeve of the robe.

It was a sword. But an incredibly thin one—an estoc, a onehanded close-range piercing weapon that hardly anyone bothered

to use. The conical blade, which looked like a very large, long needle, was growing a spiral of delicate thorns.

It was the third barbed weapon.

A tiny shriek escaped from Schmitt's throat. He slammed his

head against the ground, over and over and over.

"I…I just—! On the day…that it was voted we'd sell the ring, a

piece of paper and crystal just showed up in my belt pouch…and

there were directions on it…"

"From whom, Schmitt?"

This time it was a man's voice.

"Whose orders were they…?"

Schmitt froze in place, his neck suddenly tense. His head felt

as heavy as iron, but somehow, he lifted his head for just an instant. A second grim reaper had just appeared from the shadows

of the branches. It was wearing an identical black robe. This one

was slightly taller than the other.

"…Grimlock…?" Schmitt just barely whispered, his face downward once more. "Did…did you die, too…?"

The new reaper ignored this question and took a silent step

forward. From the hood came a voice dripping and twisted.

"Who…? Who was manipulating you…?"

"I…I don't know! I swear!!" Schmitt shrieked. "The…the memo

just said…follow the leader. Wh-when she checked in to an inn

and left to eat dinner, I'd sneak into her room and save the location with the corridor crystal, th-then place it in the guild's

shared storage…Th-that's all I did! I didn't lay a finger on

Griselda! I-I never…I never thought she'd be k-k-killed, just lose

the ring…I never thought that would happen!"

The two grim reapers did not move a muscle as he pleaded his

case. The night breeze stirred the dried branches of the tree as it

passed, along with the hems of their robes.

Even in the grips of his terror, Schmitt was reviewing a memory burned into the recesses of his brain.

On that day half a year ago, when he first pulled the parchment out of his pouch, he thought it was ridiculous—but was also

surprised at how effective a move it was.

Inn room doors were automatically locked by the system, but

by default, they would unlock for friends and guildmates, except

when the room guest was asleep. By placing a corridor crystal

marker there while she was gone, they could sneak into her room

even when she was asleep. After that, it was as simple as making

a trade request, moving her arm to press the accept button, then

selecting the ring and hitting "trade."

There was the danger of being detected, but Schmitt innately

sensed that this was the only way to steal an item within the safe

zone. The reward listed at the end of the memo was half of the

selling value of the ring. If he succeeded, he would instantly get

four times the money, and if he failed and the leader actually

woke up in the middle of the trade, she'd only see the person who

gave him the memo, the actual thief. He could just ignore any accusations from the thief and pretend he didn't know anything.

Sneaking into a bedroom and setting portal coordinates left no

traces.

Schmitt wrestled with temptation, but that temptation alone

was essentially a betrayal of the guild and their leader. He was

doing it to get into a better guild. Schmitt justified it to himself by

saying that it would ultimately help the guild leader by making

the end of the game come sooner. He followed the memo's instructions.

The next night, Schmitt learned that the leader had been

killed. The day after that, he found a leather sack on his bed filled

with the gold coins he'd been promised.

"I was…I was scared! I thought that if I told the guild about

that note, I'd be targeted next…S-so it's true that I have no idea

who wrote it! F-forgive me, Griselda, Grimlock! I r-really had no

intention of aiding a murder. You must believe me, please!" he

whined, scraping his forehead against the ground repeatedly.

Another dark breeze rustled the branches. When it left, the

woman's voice took its place. But her eerie echo was completely

gone, as though it had never been there.

"We recorded all of that, Schmitt."

It was a familiar voice—one he'd just heard recently. Schmitt

looked up and gaped in total disbelief.

The black hood was pulled back now to reveal the very face of

the person this grim reaper had supposedly killed just hours earlier. The wavy, dark blue hair swayed in the breeze.

"…Yolko…?" he whispered.

When the other robed figure did the same, Schmitt sounded as

though he was going to faint.

"…Kains."

10

"Th-they're alive…?!" Asuna gasped.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, alive. Both Yolko and Kains."

"B-but…but…" she panted, then clutched her hands atop her

lap and rasped, "But…we saw it last night. We saw Kains stuck

with a black spear, hanging out of a window…We saw him die."

"No," I replied, shaking my head, "what we saw was Kains's

avatar spray a bunch of polygons, give off a blue light, then vanish."

"B-but isn't that how death happens here?"

"Do you remember how Kains was staring off at a specific

point in space when he was hanging out of that church window

last night?" I asked, holding an index finger out in front of my

face. Asuna nodded.

"He was looking at his HP bar, right? At the effects of the

piercing damage as it ticked down bit by bit…"

"That's what I thought, too. But that wasn't it. He wasn't actually looking at his HP bar but the durability level of the plate

armor he was wearing."

"D-durability?"

"Yes. Remember how I removed my glove when we did the test

with the piercing damage outside of town this morning? Nothing

you can do to a player in the safe haven will damage HP. But an

object's durability will drop…just like the sandwich earlier. Of

course, armor durability doesn't cause it to just vanish in the

middle of town like food does, but that's only if it's not damaged.

Remember, there was a spear piercing Kains's armor. What the

spear was damaging was not Kains's HP but his armor durability."

At this point, Asuna went from a look of bafflement to sudden

surprise.

"Th-then…what we saw disintegrating and flying off wasn't

Kains's body…"

"Right. It was just the armor he was wearing. I always thought

that was weird; why would you wear a huge set of armor if you're

just going out to eat dinner? It must have been to ensure the visual effect of the explosion was as attention grabbing as possible.

And so Kains waited for the exact moment the armor would shatter, then…"

"Used a teleport crystal," Asuna muttered, closing her eyes to

replay the scene in her mind. "And the result of that was the blue

light, a shattering spray of polygons, and the disappearance of the

player…Something extremely close to the death effect but totally

different."

"Yes. I'm guessing that what Kains actually did was stab himself through the chest with the spear, armor and all, outside of

town. Then he used a corridor crystal to teleport to that upstairs

room in the church, placed a rope around his neck, then jumped

out of the window right before his armor broke. At the exact moment it was about to break, he used a teleport crystal to zip

away…Thus completing the effect."

"…I see…"

Asuna nodded, eyes still closed. She let out a long breath. "In

that case…Yolko's disappearance tonight must have worked the

same way. So…she's still alive…"

I could see her silently mouth the words, Thank goodness,

then clamp her lips shut. "B-but, while she did seem to be wearing a lot, when did she hit herself with the throwing dagger? The

Code would have stopped her. She shouldn't be able to even

touch it to her body."

"It was in there from the very start," I said flatly. "Think back.

From the moment that you, Schmitt, and I walked into the room,

she was very careful not to show us her back. When she got the

message that we were on our way, she must have run out of town,

stuck in the dagger, put on a cloak or robe, then returned to her

room. With how thick her hair is, it would be easy to hide the hilt

of that tiny dagger as long as she sat tight to the sofa. She kept us

talking while her clothes ran low on durability, then she timed it

to walk backward to the window, then kicked the wall behind or

something to make the right sound before turning around. To us,

it just looked like the dagger hit her through the window at that

very moment."

"And then she fell out of the window…to make sure we didn't

hear her giving the teleport command. Which means…the person

in the black robe you were chasing…"

"I'm almost positive it wasn't Grimlock. It was Kains," I stated.

Asuna looked out into space and sighed. "So he wasn't the culprit but the victim. Oh…but wait." She sat up, looking puzzled.

"Remember how we went down to Blackiron Palace last night to

check the Monument of Life? Kains's name was crossed out. It

was right at the correct time, and even caused by piercing damage."

"Do you remember how the name was spelled?"

"I think it was…K-a-i-n-s."

"That's right. That was what Yolko told us, so we believed it, of

course. But look at this."

I showed Asuna the piece of parchment that had started me on

the path toward this understanding. It was the list of Golden

Apple members that Schmitt had written down for us a few hours

earlier.

Asuna reached out and took it, examined the names, then exclaimed in disbelief.

"Caynz?! Is that the real spelling for Kains's name?!"

"One letter off could just be a typo or misremembering, but

Schmitt wouldn't get three letters wrong on accident. In other

words, Yolko intentionally fed us the wrong spelling of his name.

She wanted us to see the K-Kains's death report and believe that

it was for the C-Kains."

"Th…then…" Asuna said, lowering her voice and looking tense.

"At the very moment when we were witnessing Caynz's faked

death at the church, the other Kains was dying of piercing damage somewhere in Aincrad? That can't be…a coincidence, can it?

No way…"

"No, no, no." I grinned, waving a hand. "Yolko and her conspirators didn't time it out to kill Kains at the same time. Remember how the death listings on the Monument of Life went? It said

'22nd of the Month of Cherry Blossoms, 6:27 PM.' That's April in

the Aincrad calendar—and yesterday was the second April 22nd

we've had in the game."

"Ah…"

Asuna gasped, paused for a moment, then returned that exhausted, powerless grin.

"…Oh my God. I never even considered that. It was last year.

On the same day, at the same time, Kains died in a way that was

totally unrelated to any of this…"

"Yes. I think that was the starting point for their entire plan."

I took a deep breath and put all of the pieces together once

more in my mind.

"At a very early stage, Yolko and Caynz must have noticed that

someone named Kains, pronounced the exact same way as Caynz,

had died last April. Maybe it just started off as a note of interest

between them. But at some point, one of them came up with the

idea to take advantage of that to fake Caynz's death. And not just

through normal monster-related death…but with the menace of a

faked safe-haven PK."

"…Well, they certainly fooled me and you at first. The death of

an unrelated player with the same name, destruction of equipment through piercing damage over time, and a simultaneous

teleport crystal…These three elements combined to make what

looked to all the world like a PK within the safe haven of town…

And it was meant…" Asuna lowered her voice to a whisper. "To

draw out the culprit of the ring incident. Yolko and Caynz used

the fact that they would be suspected of the act to their advantage, faking their own murders and creating an illusory killer

meting out vengeance. A horrific god of death that could pull off a

PK in the safe haven of town, regardless of the Anti-Criminal

Code…And the one who gave in to fear and took action was…"

"Schmitt," I said, rubbing my chin with a finger. "He probably

must have been the first one they suspected…Schmitt left the,

dare I say, mediocre Golden Apple guild and went straight to the

Divine Dragon Alliance, the biggest guild on the front line. That's

basically unprecedented without some kind of extremely fastpaced leveling or a sudden influx of much better equipment…"

"Yes, the DDA has very strict recruitment requirements. But

does that mean he was the one responsible for the incident with

the ring? Did he kill Griselda and steal the ring…?"

Asuna had met Schmitt several times, given her role in organizing strategy meetings. She stared at me, her eyes tense.

But with the image of the lancer in the back of my mind, I

couldn't exactly give a straight answer.

"…I don't know. There's room to suspect him…but if you asked

me whether or not he struck me as red…"

Murderers in SAO, otherwise known as "red players," tended

to be unhinged in one way or another. That made sense, in a way.

Killing other players here solved nothing but making beating the

game more difficult. All red players, in some way, were essentially

saying they didn't care if they ever got out of SAO. Some of them

probably wished that the death game would continue forever.

Such dark desires always made their way to action at some

point. But I didn't sense that red madness from Schmitt. Not with

the way he quaked in fear of the black-robed reaper and even

asked us to escort him back to his guild building.

"…I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain that we can say he had

something to do with it," I muttered. Asuna nodded in agreement. She leaned back against the chair pointed toward the window, all thought of watching the pub gone. Her gaze traveled over

the town to the sky.

"…In either case, Schmitt's at the end of his wits now. He believes there's someone out to get vengeance on him, and he finds

no safety in town…even in his own guild room, I suspect. I wonder how he'll react."

"If he had an accomplice, he'll probably be making contact.

Yolko and Caynz will be attempting the same thing. But if Schmitt

doesn't know where to find his old accomplice, then…Hmm. If it

were me…"

What would I do? If I had given in to temporary greed and

killed a player, then regretted it later, what could I do?

I hadn't directly taken the life of another player before. But I'd

known friends who had died because of me. I still bitterly regretted the loss of my old guildmates, who were all wiped out due to

my stupid, ugly desire to stand out. I chose to make a small tree

in the backyard of the inn we called our "home" into their grave

marker. I went there from time to time to leave drinks and flowers, knowing it was no solace to them. So Schmitt, too, probably…

"…If Griselda has a grave, he'll probably go there to beg forgiveness."

Sensing the change in my tone of voice, Asuna turned to look

straight at me and smiled gently. "Yes. That's what I would do,

too. At the KoB headquarters, we have a grave for all of those who

were lost in boss fights…In fact, I'm certain that both Yolko and

Caynz are there, too…At Griselda's grave. Waiting for Schmitt to

arrive…"

She fell silent, her expression darkening.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I just thought of something. What if Griselda's

grave is outside of town? If Schmitt goes there to apologize…

would Yolko and Caynz just forgive him? I don't want to imagine

it, but what if that's where they want to have their revenge…?"

This chilling thought took me by surprise, crawling up my

backbone.

I couldn't rule it out. Yolko and Caynz hated whomever orchestrated the ring incident enough to put on this complex, ingenious safe-haven "murder." They had already used two teleport

crystals and possibly a corridor crystal. That was a huge expense,

given their level. After all the trouble they'd gone to, would they

be satisfied with a simple apology…?

"Uh…but…I see…"

But then something occurred to me, and I shook my head from

side to side.

"No, they wouldn't. They're not going to kill Schmitt."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're still registered friends with Yolko, right? And you

haven't seen any notice that she's dissolved the friendship?"

"Oh…now that you mention it, that's right. I just assumed that

it'd automatically been undone after she died, but if she's alive,

we should still be registered."

Asuna waved her left hand to bring up the menu, then hit a

few buttons.

"Yes, we're still registered friends. If I'd realized this sooner,

we could have gotten to the bottom of the trick sooner…But that

makes me wonder, why did Yolko accept a friend request from

me in the first place? Didn't she realize it could have ruined her

whole plan?"

"I'm guessing…" I started, closing my eyes and imagining the

woman with the dark blue hair, "it was a gesture of apology for

lying to us, and also because she trusted us. She trusted that if we

noticed the friend registration was still active, we might figure out

their true plan, and wouldn't get in their way with Schmitt. Try to

check on her location right now, Asuna," I said, opening my eyes.

Asuna nodded and hit a few more buttons. "She's out in the

field on the nineteenth floor right now. On a small hill near the

main town. So this must be…"

"The grave of Griselda, leader of Golden Apple. And Schmitt

and Caynz must be there, too. If Schmitt dies there, then we'll

know that they killed him. So I doubt they'd do that."

"So…what about the reverse? What if Schmitt decides to kill

them, to prevent them from telling anyone they know he was involved with the ring incident? Can we be sure that won't happen?"

I gave Asuna's troubled questions some thought, then shook

my head again. "No. We'd find out about that, and he wouldn't be

able to stand losing face among the front-liners for being an orange or red player. So I don't think there's any concern about either one killing the other. Let's just let them handle it. Our role in

this case is over now. Sure, we played the patsy for Yolko and

Caynz, just as they hoped…but it doesn't really bother me."

Asuna considered this for a moment, then smiled.

But at the time, neither of us was seeing even half of the truth

of the matter.

The case was still ongoing.

11

Again, a story I heard afterward.

Schmitt stared back and forth at the faces of the two players

who emerged from the black robes, forgetting to breathe in his

shock.

The reapers he'd assumed were Griselda and Grimlock turned

out to be Yolko and Caynz. But that didn't change the fact that his

two assailants were dead. He had only heard the story of Caynz's

death, but he'd just seen Yolko perish before his eyes only hours

earlier. She was pierced by a black dagger flying through the window, then fell down into the street and burst into pieces.

For an instant, he was about to faint in the presence of a ghost,

but it was what she had said before revealing herself that saved

Schmitt's consciousness from fleeing him altogether.

"R…recor…ded…?" he rasped from a dry throat. Yolko pulled

her hands out of the robe and showed them to him. She was holding an octagonal crystal, glowing light green—a sound-recording

crystal.

A ghost would not use an item to record a conversation.

Meaning that Caynz's and Yolko's deaths were faked. He

couldn't begin to guess how, but they had produced their own

deaths in order to create a fictional agent of vengeance to terrify a

third party who was deserving of that vengeance. Now they had a

recording of that third man, admitting his crime and begging for

mercy. All in order to reveal the truth of a murder that had taken

place in the distant past.

"…Oh…I see…" Schmitt muttered in a voiceless sigh, finally

understanding the truth. He flopped forward helplessly. He'd

been totally fooled, and there was even proof of that, but he was

not angry. He was simply numb at Yolko's and Caynz's tenacity—

and their reverence for Griselda.

"You…you did all of this…for the leader…?" he mumbled.

Caynz quietly nodded. "Didn't you, too?"

"Huh…?"

"You didn't do it because you hated her, did you? You were fixated on the ring, but you never bore her any ill will. Isn't that

true?"

"Of…of course. It's true, please believe me," Schmitt said, bowing his head repeatedly, face twisted with desperation.

He was probably stronger than the two of them combined. But

the thought of drawing his weapon and using it to silence them

forever never even occurred to him. As a red player, he couldn't

remain in the guild or the front-line group as a whole, but even

more importantly, if he killed Yolko and Caynz, he knew he would

never regain his sanity.

So even knowing that the recording crystal was still active,

Schmitt repented for his past crime.

"All I did…was sneak into the leader's inn room and save a

portal exit there. Of course…the money I got from doing that

helped me get the gear to pass the DDA's entrance standards…"

"Is it true that you don't know who gave you the note?" Yolko

demanded. He nodded vigorously.

"I-I still don't know. Out of the eight members of the guild, it's

probably one of the three left over after me, you two, the leader,

and Grimlock…But I haven't contacted anyone since then. Have

you got any ideas?" Schmitt asked. Yolko shook her head.

"All three of them joined other mid-level guilds like Golden

Apple afterward, and they have normal lives now. No one's

bought fancy gear or a player home. You're the only one who

leaped up in a big way, Schmitt."

"…I see…" he mumbled, looking down.

After Griselda's death, the sack of col delivered to his room

was a fortune beyond anything he could imagine at the time. It

was enough that he could go to the auction house and buy up all

of the ultrapowerful gear at the top of the list at once, where he

could only dream of owning such things before.

It would take steely self-control to toss that money into storage without using it. But more importantly…

Schmitt looked up, forgetting his plight momentarily, and

asked something that popped into his head.

"B-but it doesn't make sense…If they weren't going to use it,

why would they go to the trouble of killing the leader to steal the

ring…?"

Yolko and Caynz pulled back a bit, stunned. There was virtually no benefit to leaving money stored up in one's inventory. The

value of a col was maintained at all times by the Cardinal System's drop rate fine-tuning, so there was no inflation or deflation

in the currency. An expensive sword or set of armor, if treated

properly, could one day be sold for essentially the same price.

There was no value to col that wasn't spent. Which meant…

"The person…who sent the note…" Schmitt started, his mind

working feverishly.

But because he was concentrating so hard, he failed to notice

what was happening.

"Sch…!"

By the time he heard Yolko's hoarse rasp, the little knife had

stretched around toward his neck from behind and stuck into the

spot between his breastplate and gorget. It was a sneak attack

making use of the small-piercing-weapon skill, Armor Pierce, and

the nonmetal armor skill, Sneaking.

After a moment of shock, the reflexes honed by life on the

front line kicked in, and Schmitt tried to leap backward. Even

being slashed across the throat was not instant death here. The

damage would be significant, given that it was a critical area, but

even that was miniscule in comparison to Schmitt's considerable

HP total.

However.

Before he could spin around, his legs lost feeling, and Schmitt

rolled helplessly to the ground. There was a blinking green border

around his HP bar—the paralysis effect. As a tank, he naturally

had a high anti-poison skill, but this poison was so high level it

was not affected by it. Whose could it be?

"One down," said a childishly excited voice. Schmitt craned his

neck, trying to look upward.

The first thing he saw was a pair of black leather boots with

sharp studs on them. Then a thin black pair of pants. Tight-fitting

leather armor, also black. In the right hand, a narrow knife

gleaming green, and the left hand stuck inside a pocket.

A black mask that looked like a sack covered the player's head.

Round eyeholes were cut out to see through, and just as he noticed the nasty gaze of the player, a player cursor appeared in

Schmitt's view. It was not the usual green but a brilliant shade of

orange.

"Ah…!"

He heard a gasp from behind him, and Schmitt glanced the

other way to see that Yolko and Caynz were being threatened together by another player. This smaller one was dressed in black

as well, but rather than leather, it was a cloth-scrap-like material

that hung from all over. There was a skull-shaped mask on the

figure's face, with small red eyes that gleamed in its dark depths.

In his right hand was another estoc like the barbed one Yolko

had, but the way the metal gleamed bright red spoke to the overwhelming power of its stats. This player's cursor was also orange.

The man in the skull mask reached out with his left hand and

crudely yanked Yolko's estoc away. He glanced over the weapon,

then spoke in a voice like scraping friction.

"The design's, not bad. I'll add it, to my, collection."

Schmitt knew these two. But he'd never seen them in person.

He recognized them from the sketches of dangerous players displayed on the guild's bulletin board.

They were red players, the front line's most dire foes—even

more than bosses. And these men were senior officers of the

worst and deadliest guild of them all. The one with the poisoned

dagger that had paralyzed Schmitt was Johnny Black, while the

man with the estoc threatening Yolko and Caynz was Red-Eyed

Xaxa.

Did that mean…he was here?

It couldn't be. Please no. It had to be a joke.

But Schmitt's silent pleas fell on deaf ears as he heard the approach of new, scraping shoes. He turned in terror to catch sight

of the very image of the greatest danger in Aincrad.

A black matte poncho that hung to just above his knees. A

deep, concealing hood. In his dangling right hand, a large, thick

dagger as rectangular as a cleaver and as red as blood.

"…PoH…"

Schmitt's lips trembled with fear and despair.

It was Laughing Coffin, the murderer's guild.

The guild had formed a year after the start of SAO. Until then,

the orange players had stuck to ganging up on solos or small

teams and stealing their col and items. But then a number of

them grew more extreme and idealized in their actions.

Their philosophy: It's a game of death, so killing is allowed

and expected.

There was no method of legal murder in modern Japan, but it

was possible in Aincrad. All the players' bodies were in a full dive

in the real world—simply comatose, unable to move a finger on

command. Under the purview of Japanese law, any player who

was "killed" by losing all HP was the victim of Akihiko Kayaba,

the creator of the NerveGear, and not the player who eliminated

the HP.

So let's kill people. Let's enjoy the game. This is an equal right

of every player.

And the one responsible for the poisonous agitation that seduced

some of the many orange players, brainwashing them and driving

them to fanatical PK activity, was the man with the black poncho

and the cleaver, PoH.

In contrast to his humorous name, the tall man exuded an icy

cruelty as he strode purposefully toward Schmitt.

"Flip him over," he ordered.

Johnny Black wedged his boot tip under Schmitt's downcast

stomach. Once Schmitt was rolled over to face upward, the man

in the poncho stared down at him from above.

"Wow…this is a big haul. A leader of the DDA, in the flesh."

His strong, silky voice was beautiful, but something alien

lurked in the intonation of the words. His face was hidden within

the hood of the poncho, but there was a lock of rich, wavy black

hair hanging in sight, swaying in the breeze.

Despite knowing that he was trapped in a very deadly situation, half of Schmitt's mind was occupied with questions: why,

what, how?

Why would they show up here and now? The top three members of Laughing Coffin were both the symbol of fear in the game

and its most wanted criminals. They would not be hanging

around in the overworld map of a lower floor like this without

good reason.

That would mean they knew they'd find Schmitt here, and attacked.

But that didn't add up. He didn't tell anyone at the DDA where

he was going, and Yolko and Caynz wouldn't have let that intel

slip, either. Besides, both of them were pale with fear at the threat

of Red-Eyed Xaxa's estoc. Even if they'd been hanging out by coincidence and saw Schmitt walk through the town alone, it was all

too sudden for them to have informed PoH.

Was it simply some act of massive misfortune that all three of

these players had happened across them on this random floor for

a totally different reason? Was this sheer coincidence the

vengeance of the late Griselda…?

PoH looked down indecisively at the prone, loglike Schmitt,

who was trapped in a tangle of his own confused thoughts.

"Well…Normally this is the time for my 'It's Showtime' slogan…but first, how to play with them?"

"Let's do that one thing, Boss," came Johnny Black's cheery,

high-pitched voice. "The game where they kill one another, so

only the winner gets to survive. Of course, with these three, we'll

need to set a handicap."

"Yeah, but remember how last time, we killed the winner after

all?"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna ruin the game if you tell them that

before it starts, Boss!"

Xaxa hissed with laughter at the lazy and horrifying chat, still

holding up his estoc.

At this point, the honest danger and despair of the situation

settled in, crawling up Schmitt's back. He instinctually shut his

eyes. Without the ability to move, the heavy metal armor that

covered him was nothing but a weight holding him down. Very

soon, they would finish their pre-meal appetizer and bare their

bloody, greedy fangs. PoH's large dagger, Mate-Chopper, was a

rare monster drop that had greater stats than the highest quality

items a player-blacksmith could create at present. It was an evil

thing that would easily pierce through his full plate armor.

Griselda, Grimlock. If this is your vengeance, then I suppose I

deserve to die here. But why would you involve Yolko and

Caynz? They put all of this tremendous ef ort into revealing the

true culprit of your murder. Why would you do this?

As Schmitt's despairing thoughts popped from his mind like

short-lived bubbles, he sensed faint vibrations through the

ground pressing against his back.

The rhythmic beat approached, da-da-dum, da-da-dum,

growing louder and more insistent. Eventually, the dry, deep

sounds hit his ears as well.

PoH sucked in a sharp breath and warned his two followers.

Johnny jumped back, holding up his poisoned dagger, while Xaxa

jabbed his estoc even closer toward Yolko's and Caynz's throats.

Schmitt made use of what little neck mobility he had to catch

sight of a white light approaching from the direction of the town.

The light bobbed up and down and, several seconds later, was

revealed to be cold flame licking at the hooves of a black horse so

dark, it melted into the night. On the steed's back was a rider,

also in black. This person, who appeared like some undead knight

from Hell, was bearing down on them and blazing a trail of white

flame behind him. The sound of the hooves turned into a rumbling roar, soon joined by the whinnying of the horse.

The steed reached the foot of a little hill and bounded to the

top in a few leaps, then reared up on its hind legs, spraying a

white cloud of steam from its nostrils. Johnny took a few nervous

steps back, and the rider pulled back hard on the reins—and

promptly toppled backward off the horse.

The figure fell onto its butt and hissed a sharp "Ouch!" in a

voice that Schmitt recognized. The man got up, rubbing his backside, and, still holding the reins to the massive black steed, turned

to look at Schmitt, Yolko, and Caynz. In an easy, carefree tone, he

said, "Looks like I made it just in time. You'll have the DDA expense the taxi fare, I hope."

There were no itemized mounts in Aincrad. But certain towns

and villages had NPC-run stables where players could rent riding

horses or cattle for transporting massive belongings that didn't fit

into an inventory. But because they required considerable technique to master and cost an arm and a leg to rent, very few players bothered with them. There were only so many people in this

deadly game with the time and wherewithal to bother practicing

horseback riding.

Schmitt let out the breath he'd been holding in and looked up

at the new arrival: Kirito the Black Swordsman, solo player.

Kirito tugged on the reins to turn the horse around and patted

its rump. The rental service was disengaged, and the black beast

began to run off, accompanied by Kirito's relaxed voice.

"Hey, PoH. Been a while. Still sticking with that ugly fashion

sense, huh?"

"…Bold words, coming from you," went PoH's reply, his voice

sharp with unmistakable lethality.

On its heels, Johnny Black darted forward a step and shrieked

hysterically, "You freak! Quit actin' like you got this under control! You know what's happening here?!"

PoH silenced his follower's poison knife with a gesture, then

tapped his shoulder with the butt of his own cleaver.

"He's got a point, Kirito. Flashy entrances are all well and

good, but surely you don't think that even you can handle three of

us at once."

Schmitt clenched his left hand, the only part of him that was

capable of moving. PoH was right: Even Kirito, with his attack

power near the top of the front-line gang, couldn't possibly defeat

three officers of Laughing Coffin at once. Why hadn't he at least

brought the Flash along?

"Yeah, I guess not," Kirito said calmly, his left hand on his

waist. "But I've taken a poison-resistance potion, I've got a bundle of healing crystals, and I can hold out for a good ten minutes.

That's enough time for the cavalry to arrive. Surely you don't

think that even you three can handle thirty front-line vets," he

teased, throwing PoH's challenge right back into his face.

The leader clicked his tongue in irritation, while Johnny and

Xaxa looked around at the darkness nervously.

"…Shit," PoH swore, and drew back his right foot. He snapped

his fingers, and his followers retreated several yards backward.

Freed from the red estoc, Yolko and Caynz both fell unsteadily to

their knees.

PoH held up his cleaver, pointed it straight at Kirito, and

growled, "Black Swordsman. I swear that I will make you taste

dirt. One day you will roll in an ocean of your precious friends'

blood, and then you will regret this."

And with that, he spun the heavy cleaver nimbly in his fingertips and returned it to the holster at his side. The black leather

poncho whirled around and he descended the hill, his two lackeys

scrambling after him.

Johnny Black was especially quick in his pursuit, worried

about the imminent approach of the front-line guilds, but RedEyed Xaxa, he of the ragged attire and estoc, turned back after a

few steps, his skull mask's eyes gleaming at Kirito.

"You think, you're so cool. Next time, it'll be me, chasing you,

on a horse."

"…You'd better practice, then. It's not as easy as it looks," Kirito replied.

Xaxa let out a hiss of breath, then vanished in pursuit of his

companions.

12

Even after the three shadows descended the hill and melted into

the darkness, their orange cursors remained, thanks to the Search

skill.

I'd encountered and exchanged words with PoH, leader of

Laughing Coffin, on a previous occasion, but his two confidants

were new to me: the poison knife–wielder with the childish attitude and appearance and the eerie estoc fencer with the ragged

clothes. Naturally, their names hadn't appeared on their cursors,

so I considered checking with Schmitt about them, then decided

against it. The next time I faced them, it would turn into a fight

for real. And I didn't want to know the names of the people I'd

cross blades with in a battle to the death.

Instead, I just watched the cursors as they began to blink at

the limit of my Search range. As a flat rule, criminal players were

not allowed to enter towns and settlements protected by the AntiCriminal Code, the "safe havens" of Aincrad. The instant they did,

powerful NPC guardians would appear and attack en masse. And

the teleport gates were all located in the Code's zones, so for the

trio to move to other floors, they'd either have to designate tiny

villages outside of the Code with their teleport crystals, use expensive corridor crystals, or climb and descend the labyrinth towers that had already been cleaned out—the long way.

It was probably the first of the three, but using six crystals for

the round trip had to be a ridiculous expense for them. Despite

my cocky parting statements, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of

relief when the three cursors were gone from sight.

It was a much more dangerous group than I had been expecting. Somehow, the trio had known that Schmitt—front team

leader for the Divine Dragon Alliance and the man with the highest defense and HP of any front-line player—would be at these coordinates.

The source of that info would be clear very soon.

I tore my gaze away from the dark landscape to look at my

window and type up a quick message to Klein, who was approaching with his dozen-or-so friends, that "Laughing Coffin ran

off, so wait in town."

Next, I took an antidote potion from my waist pouch and put it

in Schmitt's left hand, watched to make sure the large man awkwardly drank it down, then looked at the other two people present.

When I spoke out to the would-be grim reapers in their black

robes, I couldn't keep the note of irony out of my voice.

"It's nice to see you again, Yolko. And I guess…this is a 'nice to

meet you,' Caynz."

The woman who had vanished before my eyes into a cloud of

polygons a few hours earlier looked up at me and put on a tiny

smile.

"I was planning to give you a proper apology when all was said

and done…but I don't suppose you'd believe me now."

"Whether I believe you or not depends on how good the meal

you buy me tastes. And no fishy-looking ramen or unidentified

fried food will do."

Next to the stunned Yolko, the simpleminded-looking Caynz,

original "victim" of the safe-haven murders, pulled off his robe

and bowed his head.

"It's actually not our first meeting, Kirito. Our eyes met for just

an instant, if you recall," he said in a deep, relaxed voice. Then it

hit me.

"You know, that's right. It was right as you died—er, as you

teleported and your armor broke, wasn't it?"

"Yes. When I saw you, I had a momentary feeling that you

might see through our faked-death trick."

"You thought too much of me. I was completely fooled."

It was my turn to frown. With the atmosphere a bit looser

now, Schmitt sat up, his armor clanking loudly. He turned on me,

his voice still tense.

"Kirito…I must thank you for saving me…but how did you

know that those men would attack us here?"

I looked back into his desperate, searching eyes and chose my

words carefully.

"It wasn't that I knew. I just thought it might be possible. If I'd

known it was PoH from the start, I might have freaked out and

run for safety."

There was a reason I was playing this a bit aloof. What I was

about to say was bound to deliver a huge shock to these three—

particularly Yolko and Caynz. They had written their own scenario, engineered and starred in it to seeming perfection—but

they didn't realize that there was a hidden producer lurking in the

shadows of the entire incident. I took a deep breath and tried to

speak as quietly and calmly as I could.

"…I only noticed that something was wrong about thirty min-

utes ago…"

The incident was over. The rest was up to Yolko, Caynz, and

Schmitt now—or so I told Asuna, leaning back in my chair on the

second floor of the inn overlooking the little pub on the twentieth

floor.

They wouldn't kill one another. Let the players of the ring incident that had started this all take care of the business themselves,

I said. Asuna nodded and agreed.

But in the silence that followed, I couldn't help but feel a tiny

little thorn in my chest that would not come out cleanly.

There was something I needed to consider. I knew it was

there, but I didn't know what it was or how to remember it.

The root of this sensation lay in something that Asuna said

while we were in this room, staking out the pub. Before I realized

it, I was calling out to her.

"…What is it?" the vice commander of the KoB said, looking at

me. About 80 percent of my mind was fixated on the sensation of

wrongness, so the thoughtlessness of the question that followed

could be blamed on that.

"Asuna, have you ever been married?"

Her answer was an icy, murderous glare, a clenched fist, and a

preparatory attack stance.

"No, I mean, not that, forget it!!" I cried before she could slug

me. I shook my hands and head in defensive panic, quickly

adding, "No, what I mean is…you were saying something about

marriage before, right?"

"I did. What about it?" she asked, fixing me with a steely gaze.

I trembled even harder, desperately running my mouth. "Um,

w-well…gosh, what was it—something about how it was romantic,

or plastic, or something-tic…"

"Nobody said anything remotely resembling that!"

She kicked me in the shin just soft enough not to set off the

Code, then filled in the blanks for me. "I said it was romantic and

pragmatic! And in case you've never opened a dictionary, pragmatic means practical and sensible!"

"Practical…? Marriage in SAO?"

"Yes. I mean, it doesn't get much more brutally faithful than

shared inventory, right?"

"Shared…inventory…"

That was it.

That was the source of the thorn that was still stuck in my

chest.

Married players completely shared all of their items. The carrying limit expanded to the total of both players' strength combined, so while it was extremely convenient, it also came with the

danger of marriage fraud, where a spouse stole all the best items

and disappeared.

What was it about this system that stuck out to me?

Unable to reach the root of this overwhelming frustration, I

asked, "Th-then…what happens to the items when you get divorced?"

"Huh…?"

Asuna looked at me in surprise, her eyes round. She inclined

her head in wonderment, bringing her punching fist up to stroke

her slender chin.

"Let's see…I believe there are a few options. There's automatic

distribution, taking turns choosing an item at a time, and a few

other methods that I don't remember…"

"I want to know more. How do we find out? Oh hey, what if we

—"

That I didn't finish that question was either a brilliant decision

or a stroke of good luck.

The Flash grinned at me, her left hand on the scabbard of her

Lambent Light, several times the previous hint of murder in the

air.

"What if we what?"

"…Wh-what if…weeee…write a question to Heathcliff right

now?"

A minute later, he wrote back with a concise and accurate description of what happens to inventory space upon a divorce. The

man was a walking game manual.

Asuna had already mentioned the automatic and by-turn

methods of dividing items. It was also possible to set up an automated system that worked on designated percentages, rather

than down the middle. That meant that alimony payments were

essentially possible as well. Yes, very pragmatic.

As Asuna read off the message, my mind worked rapidly.

These options had to be decided upon by both parties at the moment of divorce, of course. In other words, you could not legally

divorce unless you both agreed to an asset-splitting scheme. But

in reality, an amicable agreement couldn't be reached in every

case. So what would happen if you wanted to get divorced but

couldn't see eye to eye with your partner? There was no domestic

affairs court in Aincrad.

The answer to that question was in the very last sentence of

Heathcliff's reply to Asuna.

"'…Incidentally, an unconditional divorce is only possible if

one sets their own item allotment to zero percent, with the partner receiving one hundred percent of the shared inventory. In

that case, any items the partner cannot carry at the point of redistribution will be dropped at his or her feet. If Kirito is afraid of

the imminent possibility of divorce, I would recommend staying

in a private room at an inn'…he says." Asuna finished reading,

closing the window with an unpleasant expression.

As I idly gazed at her face, I repeated one phrase from the

message over and over.

Zero for you, hundred for partner. Zero for you…hundred for

partner…

"Ah…"

The thorn of suspicion that remained firmly jammed into my

chest suddenly twinged sharply. It was a small thing, but it

started to grow and grow, from hesitation to doubt, to conviction

and then shock, then all the way to fear.

"Ah…aaaah!!"

I stood up with a bolt, my chair rattling, and grabbed Asuna's

shoulders. The Flash pulled away in startled disbelief and gaped,

"Wha…what are you…You're not really expecting to…"

But I wasn't taking in any information. I husked, "Hundred

for you, zero for your partner. There's only one way to ensure

that happens."

"…Huh…? What are you talking about…?"

I kept a firm grip on her shoulders, drawing her petite face

closer to mine, and whispered, "Death. The moment your spouse

dies, your inventory returns to its original size, and the items you

can't hold drop at your feet. Meaning…meaning…"

My throat convulsed and swallowed.

"Meaning…that in the instant of the murder of Griselda, leader

of Golden Apple, that ultra-rare and powerful ring, which was

kept in her item storage, went not to the killer…but into the inventory of her husband, Grimlock, or materialized and dropped

at his feet."

The hazel-brown eyes, just inches away, blinked once, then

twice. The disbelief in her eyes suddenly turned into stark horror.

So the ring…wasn't stolen…? she mouthed silently. But I

couldn't answer right away. I let go of her shoulders, straightened

up, and leaned back heavily against the window frame.

"No…that's not true. It was stolen. Grimlock stole a ring that

was already in his inventory. He's not the one responsible for this

fake safe-haven murder case. He's the mastermind of the ring incident from half a year ago."

The rapier sheath fell out of Asuna's hand and thudded heavily

on the floor.

"…I only noticed that something was wrong about thirty minutes ago…Caynz, Yolko, how did you get these two weapons? The

barbed short spear and dagger," I asked.

Yolko and her partner shared a glance, then she said, "In order

to pull off a fake safe-haven PK, we needed a piercing weapon

that would cause damage over time. We looked through all the

weapon shops we could find, but there were no specially designed

weapons with that feature…And if we had a blacksmith make one

for us, his name would stay on the weapon. Then anyone could

ask him and he'd reveal that it was paid for by the victims of the

case, and the mystery would be over."

"So without a better option, we reached out to contact the

leader's husband, Grimlock, for the first time since the guild disbanded. We explained our plan so that he would make us the

piercing weapons we needed. We didn't know where to find him,

but we were still registered as friends," Caynz continued for

Yolko. At the mention of that name, all of my nerves honed in on

my ears to listen.

"At first, Grimlock didn't seem very enthusiastic about it. His

first response said to just let her memory sleep in peace. But we

kept pleading with him, and he finally relented and made us two

—no, three weapons. And we got them just three days before the

moment of Kains's 'death.'"

This, at least, made it clear that Yolko and Caynz believed that

Grimlock was the first and foremost victim in the murder of his

wife. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to utter the words that I

was certain would bring them much shock and pain.

"…I'm sorry to say that Grimlock wasn't against your plan for

Griselda's sake. He was afraid that if you went to the trouble of an

eye-catching PK inside the safe haven, someone was going to notice. Notice what happens to the items in a shared inventory

when a marriage is dissolved because of death, rather than divorce."

"Huh…?"

Yolko stared at me, totally baffled.

I couldn't blame her. Even very close couples in Aincrad seldom made it to the stage of marriage, but divorces were even

more rare, and couples split apart by death even more so. Both

Asuna and I had totally believed that when Griselda died, the ring

had dropped as loot for the one who killed her.

"Listen…everything in Griselda's possession simultaneously

belonged to Grimlock. You couldn't steal that ring even by killing

her. It would automatically teleport to Grimlock the instant she

died. You got a reward of money for taking part in the scheme,

right, Schmitt?" I asked. The big man sitting cross-legged on the

ground shook his head in disbelief.

I continued. "It would have taken the sale of the ring to put together a fortune of that size in the first place. Only Grimlock

could have done that once he got the ring, and he knew that

Schmitt was an accomplice in the plan. Meaning…"

"Grimlock did this…? You're saying he was the one who sent

the note…and actually took Griselda out of the town to kill her?"

Schmitt mumbled, his voice cracking. I considered this possibility.

"No, he wouldn't have dirtied his hands directly. She might

wake from her sleep while being portal-ed out of her bedchamber. If she saw his face, he'd never be able to cover it up. He probably paid some red players to do the dirty work of the killing.

That doesn't decrease his crime in the slightest, of course…"

"…"

Schmitt simply gazed into empty space and said no more.

Yolko and Caynz also looked as though their souls had temporarily left their bodies. A few seconds later, she shook her head, dark

blue hair swaying, the motion growing fiercer over time.

"No…it's not true. It can't be! They were always together…

Grimlock was always smiling happily at her side and…Besides! Rright?—If he was the true culprit, then why did he help us in our

plan?! We couldn't have done a thing if he hadn't crafted those

weapons for us, and the ring incident would never have been dug

up again. Isn't that right?"

"You explained the entirety of your idea to him, didn't you?" I

asked abruptly. She shut her mouth for a moment, then nodded.

"Meaning that he knew what would happen in the end if your

plan was successful. Wracked by guilt, Schmitt would visit

Griselda's grave, to be accosted by you and Caynz, dressed as the

dead. That would make it possible to permanently bury the ring

incident forever. He could eliminate his accomplice, Schmitt, and

you two searching for resolution, all at once."

"…I see. So…that's why they were here…" Schmitt mumbled. I

looked in his direction and nodded, feeling gloomy.

"That's right. The top three members of Laughing Coffin

showed up here because Grimlock fed them information. That a

major officer of the DDA would be here without a security detail…

He probably had connections to them ever since he paid them to

kill off Griselda…"

"…I can't believe it…"

Caynz had to hold out his hand to keep Yolko from falling

straight to the ground. But his face, too, was obviously pale, even

in the dim light of the moon.

As she clung to Caynz's shoulder for support, Yolko whispered

dully, "Grimlock was…trying to kill us? But…why…? And…why

would he kill his own wife just to steal a ring…?"

"I can't possibly conjecture about a motive. But I'm guessing

that while he stayed in the guild base the night of the murder for

the sake of an alibi, he couldn't have helped coming to keep tabs

on this one. Especially knowing that getting rid of you three

would make the end of two criminal incidents. So…let's ask him

for the real scoop."

At the end of my sentence, two sets of footsteps could be heard

climbing the west face of the hill.

The first thing to come into sight was a knight's uniform of

brilliant white and red, clearly visible through the night. This was,

obviously, Asuna the Flash. In her right hand hung a rapier with a

crystal-pure platinum blade. It was the most graceful and beautiful sword that I knew in Aincrad and also one of the fiercest and

most efficient at breaking through defenses.

Its fierce point and owner's sharp gaze were keeping a man

walking ahead of her. He was very tall, with a long-sleeve and

loose-fitting leather jacket and a wide-brim hat. In the shadow

beneath it, something occasionally reflected the moonlight—

glasses, probably. He looked less like a blacksmith than a hit man

from some Hong Kong movie. It was hard for me to avoid that

preconception, for understandable reasons.

Both of their cursors were green. Realizing that if he tried to

escape, Asuna might temporarily become an orange player in

halting him, her green status was a relief to me—though I was

prepared to undergo the annoying quests needed to restore one's

good alignment alongside her, if necessary. As the man approached, however, I steeled myself properly to face him.

Behind his round, silver-framed glasses was a face that looked

gentle and soft, if anything. His face was thin, and his slightly

drooping eyes were kindly. But there was something in his small

black pupils behind the lenses that set off my sense of caution.

The man stopped about ten feet away and looked first at

Schmitt, then Yolko and Caynz, and lastly, at the mossy grave

marker.

"Well…hello again, everyone," he said, cool and calm.

Several seconds later, Yolko responded, "Grimlock…Did…did

you really…"

Kill Griselda and steal the ring? And try to erase three people

here to ensure that the entire matter was covered up permanently?

The words were never spoken aloud, but everyone heard them.

Grimlock the blacksmith, former sub-leader of Golden Apple, did

not answer at once. When Asuna had returned her rapier to its

sheath and moved to stand at my side, he smiled slightly.

"…You have the wrong idea. I was only on the way here under

the belief that I had a responsibility to see this series of events to

its conclusion. The reason I obeyed that scary woman's commands was because I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding."

He's going to deny it? I thought, closing my eyes. Sure, we had

no proof that he'd passed the information to PoH, but when it

came to the ring incident, there was no way for him to weasel out

of the systematic evidence.

"Liar!" snapped Asuna. "You were hiding in the bushes. If I

hadn't been able to reveal you with my Search skill, you'd have

stayed put the whole time!"

"That's not my fault. I'm just a blacksmith. As you can see, I

am unarmed. Can you blame me for not jumping out into the

open with those terrifying orange players out and about?" he

replied pleasantly, spreading his gloved hands.

Schmitt, Caynz, and Yolko listened to Grimlock's words in si-

lence. They were still having trouble believing it. Accepting that

your former sub-leader had paid bloodthirsty killers to knock you

off was a huge leap, and one they didn't consciously want to

make.

Asuna started to retort again, but I stilled her with a hand and

spoke at last.

"Hello there, Grimlock. My name is Kirito and…well, I'm an

outsider in this matter. I'll be honest: I don't have evidence linking your presence here to the attack by Laughing Coffin. They

certainly won't be offering testimony to us."

Of course, if we had Grimlock make his menu window visible

so we could check his friend list or sent messages, we would certainly find the name of whatever player handled the assassination

business for Laughing Coffin. I just didn't know what that name

was.

But while the matter of the attempted murders here might not

be solvable, I knew that the other matter was undeniable.

"But the ring incident last fall that caused the breakup of

Golden Apple…You are absolutely involved with that—you orchestrated it, in fact. Because whoever actually killed Griselda,

the ring would have stayed in your possession, thanks to your

shared inventory. You hid that fact, secretly liquidated the ring,

then gave half of the amount to Schmitt. Only the culprit could

have done this. So your only motive for getting involved in this

safe-haven incident was to silence the people involved with the

past and cover it up. Am I wrong?"

A heavy silence filled the open air on the hill. The pale moonlight falling upon the scene cast Grimlock's face into shadowy

contrast. Eventually his mouth twisted in an odd way and he

spoke again, slightly cooler this time.

"This is a very fascinating line of logic, Detective…But sadly,

you have missed one thing."

"What?" I asked automatically. Grimlock reached up with a

black glove and pulled the brim of his wide hat lower.

"It's true that Griselda and I had a shared inventory. So your

assertion that when she was killed, all of the items within her

storage remained with me is true. However…"

The tall blacksmith's sharp gaze traveled through the moonlight-reflecting glasses to pierce me. In a flat voice, he continued.

"What if the ring wasn't being kept in her inventory? What if it

was materialized as a physical object, equipped on her finger…?"

"Ah…" Asuna gasped.

I was just as taken aback. I had completely failed to take that

possibility into account.

Materialized items always dropped at the spot of a player's

death, if killed by a monster or another player. So if Griselda were

equipping the ring in question, it would fall into the murderer's

hands rather than staying in Grimlock's possession.

Realizing that he now held the advantage, Grimlock's mouth

curled into a grin. But that smile vanished as he put his fingertips

to his forehead and shook his head in a display of mourning.

"…Griselda was a speed-type swordsman. Surely it's not that

surprising that she'd want to just get a little taste of the massive

agility boost from wearing the ring before it got auctioned off,

right? Yes, when she was killed, all of the items that were in our

shared inventory stayed with me. But the ring was not among

them. It's the truth, Detective."

I suddenly realized I was clenching my teeth. I tried searching

for some means of tearing apart his argument, but the only person who could testify as to whether she was wearing the ring in

question at the moment of her death was the killer—most likely, a

member of Laughing Coffin.

As I held my silence, Grimlock lifted up the brim of his hat. He

swung a look over the other four and gave a sanctimonious bow.

"And now, I will be on my way. It's a shame that the ringleader

in Griselda's murder wasn't caught, but I believe that Schmitt's

repentance will surely soothe her soul."

With another tip of his hat, the blacksmith turned around.

Amid the silence, Yolko's voice over his shoulder was full of

something fiery.

"Please wait…No—stop."

He came to an abrupt halt and turned back just a bit. Those

kindly looking eyes behind the glasses glimmered with something

dangerous.

"Is there more? Please don't bother me with your emotional,

unfounded accusations. This is a holy place to me," he said

smoothly and haughtily. Yolko took a step farther. For some reason, she raised her hands in front of her and glanced down at

them for an instant. When her dark eyes faced forward again,

there was a fierce power in them that I hadn't seen in her before.

"Grimlock, you're claiming that the leader was wearing the

ring at the time. So the killer stole it without you having it. But…

that's impossible."

"…Oh? Based on what evidence?" Grimlock asked, turning

smoothly.

Yolko tore into him. "You remember when the guild had that

meeting to decide what to do with the ring? Me, Caynz, and

Schmitt said that we should use it to strengthen the guild, rather

than sell it. Caynz actually wanted to use it himself, but he decided to stick with the leader. He said she was the strongest

fighter in Golden Apple, so she ought to equip it."

Next to Yolko, Caynz looked somewhat guilty. But she merely

gestured and continued. "I still remember every last word of her

response. She smiled and said, 'You can only wear one ring on

each hand in SAO. On my right hand is the guild leader's sigil…

and on the left is my wedding ring. So I can't use this.' Understand? There's no way she would secretly take off either of those

rings to try out that new one's bonus!"

When her harsh shriek died out, everyone present held their

breath.

It was true that there was only one ring slot for each hand on

the equipment mannequin in the menu. If both were already full,

a new ring could not be equipped. But…it was still weak.

No sooner had the thought entered my mind than Grimlock

quietly pounced. "What do you mean? She would never do that?

If you're going to use that logic, I would never kill Griselda—she

was my wife! You are leveling unfounded accusations against me,

nothing more."

"No," Yolko whispered. I held my breath as the petite woman

slowly, firmly shook her head. "No, you're wrong. There is proof…

Whoever actually killed her left behind every item they judged to

be worthless, right out in the open where they did the act. Fortunately, the player who discovered them knew the leader's name

and delivered her leftover articles to the guild home. That's how,

when we chose to make this grave marker her resting place, we

were able to leave her sword here, until it eventually disintegrated. But…that wasn't all. I didn't tell anyone…but there was

another memento of hers that I buried here on my own."

Suddenly, she spun around, knelt behind the little grave

nearby, and began to dig in the dirt with her bare hands as everyone else watched and waited. When Yolko stood up again, she

held out her hand to show what she was holding. Despite being

freshly dug up from the soil, the little box shone silver in the

moonlight.

"Oh…a Permanent Storage Trinket!" Asuna gasped. As she

noted, it was the box of permanence that only master-class craftsmen could fashion. At maximum, they could be about four inches

to a side, so they couldn't hold large items, but a few small accessories could fit inside. Even if left out in the open, no item inside

here would ever suffer the natural degradation of its durability.

Yolko reached out with her left hand and pulled up the lid of

the silver box.

Sitting on the white silk liner were two gleaming rings. She

picked up one, a larger silver ring. On its flat tip was a carving of

an apple.

"This is the Golden Apple sigil, which she always wore on her

right hand. I still have my own, so it will be very easy to compare

and confirm."

She put that ring back and picked up the other one—a narrow

golden band.

"And this is the ring that she never took off the ring finger of

her left hand—your wedding ring, Grimlock! It has your name

carved on the inside! The fact that these rings are here is unshakeable proof that at the moment she was taken through a portal outside of town and murdered, she was wearing them! Am I

wrong?! If I am, then explain it to me!!" she finished in a tearful

scream. She thrust the glittering golden ring right at Grimlock,

large teardrops rolling down her cheeks.

No one spoke for several moments. Caynz, Schmitt, Asuna,

and I held our breath, eyes wide, watching the confrontation.

The tall blacksmith, his lips pursed, stood frozen in place for

over ten seconds. Eventually, one corner of his mouth twitched,

then tensed.

"That ring…You asked me about this on the day of her funeral,

Yolko—if I wanted to keep Griselda's wedding ring. And I told you

to let it fade away, like her sword. If you'd just said you wanted

it…"

Grimlock's head was downcast, his face hidden behind his

wide-brim hat. He fell to his knees, as though the string holding

him upright had snapped.

Yolko put the golden ring back into the box, closed the lid, and

clenched it to her chest. She looked skyward, her damp face

scrunched up, and whispered, in a voice now dull and soft,

"Why…why, Grimlock? Why would you kill the leader…your own

wife, just to turn the ring into money?"

"…Money? Money, you say?" Grimlock rasped from his knees,

chuckling. He brought up his left hand to open the menu. With a

few short operations, he produced a large leather bag. He lifted it

up, then hurled it onto the ground. The heavy thud contained the

clear sound of many metal items scraping. Just the sound alone

made it clear to me how much col was contained within.

"This is half of the money I got from liquidating the ring. I

haven't spent a single coin."

"Huh…?" Yolko said, her eyebrows crossed in confusion.

Grimlock looked up at her, then the rest of us, and said in a

dry voice, "It wasn't for money. I…I just had to kill her. While she

was still my wife."

The round glasses turned to the mossy grave for a moment,

then came back. The blacksmith continued his confession.

"Griselda. Grimlock. It's no coincidence that our names sound

similar. We always had the same names, going back to the games

we played before SAO. And if the game featured it, we were always married. After all…after all, she was my wife in the real

world, too."

My mouth fell open in shock. Asuna sucked in a sharp breath,

and the others' faces were portraits of stunned surprise.

"She was the ideal wife for me; I had no complaints. She was

the very picture of the sidekick wife: cute, sweet, obedient. We

never once had a fight. But…once we got stuck in this world…she

changed…"

He shook his head, hidden beneath the hat, and let out a low

breath.

"I was the only one who quaked and shivered in fear at being

trapped in here. Where did she hide all of that talent? In fighting

ability, decision-making, and everything else, Griselda—no,

Yuuko—was greater than me. And more than that, she overrode

my complaints to create the guild, recruit members, and start

training. She was far more alive here than even in real life…and

more fulfilled…Watching her up close, I had to admit that the

Yuuko I loved was gone. Even if we someday beat the game and

got back to reality, the well-behaved, subservient wife I knew

would not return."

The shoulders of his long-sleeve jacket trembled. Whether it

was in self-mocking laughter or sobs of distress, I couldn't tell.

His whispering continued. "Can you understand my fears? If

we got back to the real world…and Yuuko asked for a divorce…I

couldn't bear that disgrace. So…so it was best to act while I was

still her husband. While I was still here, with a legal method of

murder at my disposal. Can anyone blame me…for wishing to

keep my memories of Yuuko pure and pristine?"

After his long and ghastly confession had finished, no one

spoke.

I heard the hoarse voice emerge from my throat, though I

wasn't even aware I was doing it at first.

"Disgrace…disgrace? Your wife wouldn't listen to you…and

that's why you killed her? She was strengthening herself and your

friends to help escape from here…and might have one day stood

among the ranks of those advancing us through the game…And

just for that…?"

I had to use my left hand to hold down my right to keep it

from instinctually drawing the blade on my back.

Grimlock looked up lazily, the lower frame of his glasses glinting, and whispered, "Just for that? It was plenty enough for what

I did. Someday you will understand, Detective, once you have

found love and are about to lose it."

"No, Grimlock. You're wrong about that."

It was not me who bit back at him, but Asuna. Her beautiful

features were cast in an expression I couldn't read as she quietly

stated, "What you felt for Griselda wasn't love. It was possession.

If you still love her, then take off your left glove. But I'm sure that

you've already cast aside the wedding ring that Griselda never removed even to the moment of her murder."

Grimlock's shoulders trembled, and in a mirror image of what

I had done moments before, grabbed his left hand with his right.

But he stopped there. The blacksmith silently held his grip, not

removing the glove. The silence that followed was broken by

Schmitt, who spoke up at last.

"…Kirito. Can you allow us to determine his fate? We will not

execute him ourselves, of course. But he must pay for his crimes."

His calm voice contained none of the terror that had gripped

him until just minutes earlier. I looked up at the tall man in his

clanking armor and nodded.

"Okay. He's all yours."

He nodded back and grabbed Grimlock's right arm, pulling

him to his feet. With the slumping blacksmith firmly under control, he said to me, "I appreciate this," and descended the hill.

Next to leave were Yolko and Caynz, after she had buried the

silver box back where it belonged. They passed by us, bowing

deeply, then shared a look.

Yolko offered, "Asuna, Kirito. I don't know how to apologize to

you…or to thank you. If you hadn't come to our aid, we would

have died tonight…and never succeeded in exposing Grimlock's

crimes."

"No…it's thanks to you for remembering about the two rings at

the end. It was a brilliant closing argument. You should be a

lawyer or a prosecutor if we ever get back to reality."

She chuckled and shrugged. "No…You might not believe me,

but at that very moment, I swear I heard her voice, telling me to

remember the rings."

"…I see…"

They bowed again and descended the hill after Schmitt as

Asuna and I watched. Eventually all four cursors had vanished in

the direction of the town, leaving only the blue moonlight and

gentle breeze on the lonely hilltop.

"…Hey, Kirito," Asuna said abruptly. "If you were married to

someone…and later on, you found out she had a side you never

knew about, what would you think?"

"Uh…"

I hadn't expected this question and didn't have a quick answer. I had only been alive for fifteen and a half years. I had no

way to understand a life like that. But after giving it some good,

desperate thought, I came up with an answer, shallow though it

was.

"I guess I'd think I was lucky."

"Huh?"

"I…I mean, being married means you already love the sides of

her you've already seen, right? So if you find a new side of her

and fall in love with that…it's t-twice as much to love."

It was hardly worthy of being called intelligent, but Asuna

thought it over, tilted her head, and grinned a bit.

"Hmm. That's weird."

"Uh…weird…?"

"Whatever. More importantly…all this activity has got me

starving. Let's get something to eat."

"G-good idea. Then…let's go get that Algade specialty, the one

that looks like a fried pancake, only without the savory sauce it's

supposed to have…"

"Rejected," she stated flatly. I started to trudge along, when

she suddenly grabbed my shoulder from behind.

I turned around with a start and witnessed an inexplicable

sight for the nth time since the safe-haven incident occurred.

In Aincrad, all sensory information was nothing more than

coded digital data. That meant that ghostly phenomena could not

exist.

So what I was seeing was either a bug in the server or an illusion that my biological brain was producing.

On the north face of the hill, a slight distance away, next to the

grave marker that stood solitary next to the foot of the gnarled

tree, stood a female player, translucent and glowing a pale gold.

Her skinny body was wrapped in the minimum of metal

armor. There was a narrow longsword at her waist and a shield

on her back. Her hair was short, and her face was stately and

beautiful, but her eyes were brimming with a strong light that I

recognized from several other players I knew.

They were the eyes of a conqueror, of one with a strong will to

bring this game of death to an end with her own sword. The

woman watched Asuna and me silently with a smile on her lips,

then, as though offering something, stretched out her open right

hand.

I, like Asuna, held out my right hand in return and, when I felt

something warm in the palm of my hand, clenched it tight. The

warmth passed through my body and lit a fire in my chest, only to

leave through my lips in the form of words.

"We will carry on…your will. One day, we'll beat this game and

free everyone."

"Yes, we promise. So please…watch over us, Griselda," Asuna

continued, the whisper reaching the lady warrior on the night

breeze. Her translucent face split in a wide grin.

And in the next moment, there was no one there.

We let our hands drop and stood in place. Eventually Asuna

squeezed my hand and grinned.

"C'mon, let's go. We've got a lot of work tomorrow."

"…That's right. Gotta clear this floor before the week is over."

We turned and walked down the little hill in the direction of

town.