BATTER 42

“That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”

It wasn’t exactly an atmosphere for clapping, but everyone was nodding quietly. That poem he just read… Shakespeare, was it? A classic choice. Baron reached into the back of his mind, searching for the author of the sonnet the kid had just recited. Standing among faces that looked more than just polite—they looked reverent—Baron waited silently for whatever came next.

For someone addressed with such high honorifics, Bijou was kept quite busy. Once the recitation ended, Peter brought over a long-necked kettle and handed it to him. Taking the kettle, Bijou began to make his rounds, pouring a cup of warm water for everyone. People cradled their cups dearly with both hands, bowing their heads each time Bijou poured.

A light so bright it was almost painful to look at slanted across the transparent glass ceiling, its chilled rays settling like a blessing upon the beautiful machine’s hair. The sunlight reaching down into this crack—neither fully underground nor truly on the surface—was quite literally the color of radiant hope.

The way they sat before him, heads bowed humbly with hands outstretched, was no different from a believer’s prayer for mercy. Whether they were sick, weak, old, or young—unfortunate fugitives driven here by unavoidable circumstances—they all willingly bowed before the blue-eyed machine.

The android’s kettle filled every single cup of those bowed heads, and the backlight washed over every skin tone until they all looked the same. Only the faint outlines of their existence remained visible. Inside this glass greenhouse on the cliff, you couldn’t categorize types of lack, loss, or defect. There was only the one receiving the water and the one pouring it.

In this greenhouse filled with humid warmth and plants, Baron felt the illusion of rose windows and stained glass. This series of actions taking place in a greenhouse at the bottom of a deep pit was clearly mimicking a religious rite. The story of the wounded, lonely, and sad—those craving love—fleeing underground perfectly mirrored certain believers who once hid in catacombs to escape persecution.

Baron’s cheeks twitched with a secret, suppressed smirk. Tin angel, tin angel, he’d called him, but to think it was actually true.

He recalled the words of a certain communist. Religion is the opium of the masses, right? This artificial intelligence, whose specialty was infinite learning, had chosen a new faith as the means to handle humanity’s infinite pain and solitude. Baron tightened his grip on the cup in his hand.

A face resembling a cemetery angel statue approached with a faint smile. A helpless, kind, beautiful statue that possessed massive, elegant wings like a swan’s, yet did nothing but sob over the coffins of dead mortals. A painkiller angel that could never be a cure.

Baron watched as Bijou approached and poured water into the cup of the person right next to him. Looking closely, the contents were just ordinary warm water. Clear, colorless, warm water with steam rising from it. Maybe he’d mixed in some powder like salt or sugar.

Now Bijou stood in front of Baron. He tilted the kettle and whispered happily.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you joined us.”

Baron didn’t expect a guy like this to mix in anything inedible. However, one had to check the surroundings before taking a leap. Baron pulled the corners of his mouth into a grin.

“It’s an honor.”

As he held out his teacup, he struck the neck of the kettle, making it look like an accident. Perhaps Bijou hadn’t been holding it very firmly, because his hand slipped and the kettle tumbled to the floor. The metal kettle flipped, splashing water across Baron’s thighs and knees. It wasn’t hot enough to cause a burn.

“Are you burned? Is it too hot?”

Bijou’s eyes went wide as he asked in a worried tone. He looked back and forth between Baron’s face and his legs, trying to brush off the wet pants. The people sitting nearby also chimed in, kindly worrying about burns. Amidst the buzzing of the small commotion, Baron caught a familiar scent rising from the spreading puddle.

Wafting from the warm, colorless water… was the scent of mint.

Mint. Faint but unmistakable—that sharp, cool, herbal scent. The corner of Baron’s mouth twitched almost like a convulsion. He rubbed the back of his hand where the veins were popping, hiding the tremor. Mint was a common, well-loved fragrance. He considered the remaining possibility of coincidence. The pulse that had been thumping like a separate living thing began to settle.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. No need to make a fuss over this.”

Even though he acted with his usual nonchalance, Bijou didn’t drop that signature worried expression. He’d walked around just fine after being sniped by a gun; lukewarm water was hardly a concern. Baron quickly scanned the residents who were sitting patiently, waiting for their turn.

“I ruined things by being clumsy. Isn’t this an important event?”

“Nothing is more important than a person’s pain.”

This guy, who was usually as soft and flimsy as thin silk, was remarkably firm when it came to that subject. Baron laughed as he stood up, patting his wet clothes.

“I’m really okay. It’s not like I can just strip my pants off here.”

It was meant to be a joke, but no one seemed to be in a laughing mood. It was a tragedy that even their dry sense of humor resembled Bijou’s. Baron let out a solitary chuckle and picked up the fallen kettle.

“There are still other people left, so you’ll need to prep some more. Since it was my mistake, I’ll help you.”

“There is someone else who usually helps with that,” Peter answered instead of Bijou. He was still kind, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the situation. However, what Baron wanted was Bijou’s answer. And in this place, Bijou’s word was law. Baron turned back to Bijou, smiling with his eyes as innocently as a two-faced animal. The blond spoke with a truly harmless face.

“That person is currently away, so we need a volunteer today. I can’t turn down such a willing offer to help.”

It was exactly what Baron wanted and expected. Since Bijou said so, Peter couldn’t protest any further. Thanks to that, Baron was able to enter the small room attached to the end of the greenhouse. Following Bijou, he found a white metal door that was only revealed once some particularly lush Monstera leaves were pushed aside.

There wasn’t much of a lock, which made sense given that the room was filled with nothing but heating equipment for boiling water, a water purifier, and a large sterilizer for storing cups. The blue light reflecting from inside the sterilizer gave off a clean, chilly vibe. As Baron quickly scanned the interior, Bijou spoke up.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Scalding from hot water is the leading cause of all burn injuries.”

The sharp gaze of an investigator shifted naturally. Baron grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“If you really want to see, I’ll take my pants off. Seems like a fine place for it.”

“Would you?”

“Just a joke. It’s been a while since someone’s been this eager to get me out of my pants.”

Only then did Bijou let out a small laugh, though looking at the angle of his dejected eyebrows, he still seemed to be eyeing the belt buckle. Well, he’d be grateful if the pants came off, but there was a different issue he really needed to focus on.

“Alright, so what should I do?”

“Um, first, please fill the kettle with water. Two-thirds full is enough.”

“Simple enough.”

He filled the kettle as instructed. It was an unremarkable process. Simply taking water and boiling it. It was such a simple task that the word “helping” felt like an overstatement. Baron watched Bijou out of the corner of his eye while waiting for the water to boil.

“I noticed a mint scent in the water earlier.”

“Yes, that’s right. You have a good sense of smell. Do you like mint?”

“It’s alright. But I don’t see any tea bags or anything around here.”

“No, because it’s not actually mint tea.”

The kid answered with an unusual amount of honesty. Because he answered so naively, it actually made the one asking hesitate. After a brief silence, Baron asked back.

“Then what did you put in it?”

“Synthetic fragrance. It doesn’t have the same effects as the actual plant, but the strong, cool scent is identical.”