Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 177. Reality and Unreality (4)

Worried glances fell upon me as I walked with disheveled hair. I tried my best to walk straight.

The aftereffects of seeing magic left my vision still flashing. As my sight kept blacking out like someone repeatedly flipping a light switch, I barely managed to suppress my nausea.

“Miss, over there. Are you alright?”

An elderly lady called out to me.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?”

“I have… low blood sugar…”

“Is that so? Hey, George. Do you have any candy?”

There was a rustling of plastic, and then candy was pushed into my mouth. A strong, bitter-sweet cinnamon taste filled my mouth.

I focused on dissolving the candy until my dizziness subsided. Finally, the magic that had risen to my eyes slowly settled. After the sweetness completely disappeared down my throat, my vision returned to normal.

I need to practice using power more in the future. I made that resolution. Then I slowly spoke.

“This is Hollowedon, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Excuse me, but which way is Minette Avenue?”

Minette Avenue. Number 278. An address I still hadn’t forgotten. If I couldn’t find Bailonz Street anymore, I thought I’d at least look for Minette Avenue that might still exist. The elderly lady looked around before pointing to a branching road.

“Let’s see. This is Mordant, so go straight toward Acton Lane until you see the school, then turn.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful. If any strangers try to talk to you, just run. Understand? I’m worried about you.”

“…Yes, thank you.”

After parting with the elderly couple, I slowly walked toward Minette Avenue. Following the lady’s directions, I turned when I saw Acton Lane, and soon spotted a sign for Minette Avenue. As I checked the addresses while carefully retracing my memories, there it was.

Minette Avenue 278, a mansion stood there proudly. It looked exactly like my memories. The decorative black iron gate and the distant house beyond.

At that moment, I felt such joy.

‘I wasn’t crazy.’

I wasn’t crazy after all. It’s right here, exactly the same.

How else could I know London’s geography and addresses, and imagine a house I’d never seen? No matter how many movies I’d watched, I couldn’t have such detailed imagination or dreams. I’m terrible at that sort of thing.

So, it all must have been real.

I wanted to shout with joy. And simultaneously, a question occurred to me.

Was Plurititas still alive?

Thinking about it, that eccentric old man didn’t seem like he’d die easily. With his monster-like tenacity and stubborn personality, he must still be alive.

With a hopeful heart, I pressed the doorbell.

―Who is it?

An unfamiliar voice came through the intercom. Not a butler, but a young woman’s voice. No way. Did he get married? While having this horrifying thought, I carefully spoke.

“Um, does someone named Plurititas… live here?”

After a moment of silence, the woman answered.

―I’ve never heard that name. Who are you?

I could hear what seemed to be a newlywed couple talking in confusion. They were puzzled about who I was. If it was someone who had lived here before, they would surely know. What’s this, did he move? After hesitating for a while in confusion, I came up with an excuse.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the address wrong. This isn’t the place. Sorry to disturb you so late.”

Fortunately, the couple didn’t mistake me for a burglar but seemed to think I was a lost tourist. They kindly replied.

―It’s alright. These things happen. Take care.

I walked far away and stood on a wide street. Seeing a passing taxi, I slowly raised my hand, and a black taxi stopped in front of me. The driver greeted me with a “good evening.”

‘To Bailonz Street.’

I almost said it out of habit, but managed to say the hotel’s name instead.

On the way back to the hotel, I closed my eyes exhaustedly. I felt like I could sleep deeply tonight.

* * *

The next morning. I was having a light breakfast. A perfect English breakfast. Eggs with bacon, a bit of baked beans, and a well-toasted slice of bread. While I was just sipping tea with little appetite, a hotel staff member handed me a newspaper. I had requested it yesterday.

I turned the pages one by one out of habit. Nothing unusual, no incidents. I had worried about a poor magician falling victim to yesterday’s mist, but fortunately, it seems I was the only one in danger.

Just as I was thinking about doing the crossword while drinking tea, an out-of-place phrase in the advertisements caught my eye.

[Flatmate wanted. Merry Christmas.]

“What?”

It was advertising for a flatmate but had no address or contact information. And what’s with the ‘Merry Christmas’?

I checked my phone screen. It was the 23rd. There was still time until Christmas. Of course, the streets were busy getting into the Christmas spirit, but it was too early for “Merry Christmas.”

Other newspapers were the same.

[Flatmate wanted, Merry Christmas.]

This phrase appeared in the advertisement section of every London newspaper.

Was someone with nothing better to do playing pranks? Though I found it very strange, I didn’t have enough mental space to focus on it.

Ding dong. A message arrived. Checking it, it was from Lily.

[I’m in front of the hotel!]

* * *

Second day in London. I decided not to be impatient.

Finding traces of magicians was something at least. Looking into this company’s origins might yield useful information.

“By the way, what’s the company’s name?”

I asked while examining records from December 1870. Lily, who was shuffling through documents in front of me, blinked. Opening a bottle of eye drops, she answered.

“M&G London. We’re disguised as a management consulting firm.”

“Do you actually do management work too?”

“For appearances. The CEO handles most of it. We don’t really know how the company runs. Just for applying for grants maybe?”

The grants sound nice. I can use magic too. I had the ridiculous thought of maybe working here to earn foreign currency while searching for Liam.

“Who exactly are you looking for?”

After hesitating for a long while, I finally spoke. More than wondering if I should say it, it felt strange because it had been so long since I’d spoken this name to anyone.

“Liam. Liam Moore.”

“Hmm. We don’t have anyone by that name here.”

Moore? Lily muttered, tilting her head again.

“He was thirty years old in 1871.”

“You remember quite specifically.”

“…That’s how it turned out.”

“Well, you said he was your benefactor.”

Here’s what I found from examining the documents. Though they were few leads:

All records related to me had been artificially erased. As if someone had deliberately erased my traces. And they hadn’t really tried to hide the fact of the erasure.

Almost as if they knew I would look for them like this.

‘Was it Liam’s doing?’

Actually, it’s not strange. The body of Jane Osmond that I left would have been very vulnerable to external attacks. If records existed, there would have been a significant chance of Jane Osmond being threatened, so it would have been Liam’s best choice.

Still, it felt odd.

Liam probably didn’t know these world problems would occur when he did it.

“I’ll ask the elders in my family if they know a magician named Liam Moore. We can ask others too. If there are any magical elders who lived through the 20th century, they might know.”

Hearing it would take about a day for answers, I decided to return to the hotel before it got too late. I was also a bit worried about getting caught in the mist like yesterday.

Lily told me she would send me materials, and to come back after Christmas. The company would be closed until then. They seemed to be taking a holiday break.

Nothing to be done about it. Though it meant taking a detour, I still had plenty of time.

Warning Lily to be careful of the mist, I went outside.

It was a hazy day. I wandered the streets like any tourist. All the while observing how London had changed.

I wish Liam Moore could see this.

That’s what I thought.