Why did something like this have happen to me?

"Face to wall!"

'Feisu' was face... 'wo-ru' therefore had to mean wall... ah ah, that "tu-", what was it again? But these guys didn't really seem to care whether I understood English or not. Why did I say that?... Before their warning (or at least I thought it was), my head was already pushed up against the stone wall.

This all began with a lucky draw on a commercial street in Japan.

"Cooongrattulations---! The grand prize, a 5-day, 3-night trip to New Yo--------rk!"

As he shouted in a voice piercing enough to sever blood vessels, the bell at the side started ringing garan garan.

Garan garan garan garan garan...

With the clamor of the bell still sounding in my ear, I was on the streets of New York.

Actually, all I really wanted was the second prize.

I threaded through the forest of skyscrapers in the direction of Manhattan Bridge. I wanted to have some Chinese food in China Town. If I couldn't decide on what to eat then I'd just have ramen. This was common sense that applied anywhere in the world.

Even though they called it a grand prize, naturally they gave only the barest minimum of travel funds. As such, this trip was not as luxurious as I'd imagined. It was a trip for two, so I sold the spare ticket at an exchange shop and was able to scrape together some spending money.

That New York had Japan's beef chain stores touched my heart (in terms of money). But the shop name was in romaji, so somehow it still didn't seem quite right. I hadn't been in New York for more than a day and I already felt like I hadn't seen kanji for a very long time.

I mused over this thought as I ambled around aimlessly, when the sound of some commotion caught my ear.

Five or six youngsters had gathered in a small alleyway, stirring up a racket. They seemed to be surrounding something, so I edged closer for a little look. Then, the youngest-looking of the lot grabbed my arm, laughing 'luk-ku, luk-ku.'

What was it?

My curiosity piqued, I turned my gaze to the center of the crowd.

--- What, there was nothing there?

Just as I was about to say so, I was given a shock. With a loud cry, those youngsters charged at me.

What came after that was, obviously, the opening of this chapter.

I had thought that, if I ever became involved in such trouble, I could deal with it by just relying on my own judgment... but the reality was that I didn't even have time to react.

I had no clue what happened to me after that. When I regained consciousness, I was already lying on the sun-baked asphalt road. Needless to say, by the time I got back to my feet, those youngsters had long escaped around the corner of the alley.

Great, I wasn't killed. This thankful thought crossed my mind, then I realized all my belongings were stolen... so everything wasn't alright after all. In theory one should be thankful for keeping one's life, but this was quickly forgotten with humans' short-memory spans. Now that I thought about it, there was plenty of opportunity for retaliation. Of course, this was all in hindsight, but I still couldn't let go of that thought.

As an animal photographer, I purposely brought along a high-end camera set on this vacation. In the end, everything was stolen.

Daaamn, how many tens of thousands did that camera cost? I couldn't help but feel furious.

<=>

With nowhere to go, I suppressed my anger and contacted the police through the hotel. In the typical movie or TV drama fashion, I was forced to play the role of the "stereotypical Japanese victim", which was in a way more depressing than the actual robbery itself.

And the police's reaction was outside of my expectations.

They only handed me the minimal documents necessary for applying for insurance. The accompanying hotel attendant who spoke a little Japanese informed me that the police wouldn't bother with these kinds of cases. Of course, if I was heavily injured or threatened with a gun, then this would be a completely different matter.

But that camera, the expensive camera I had scrimped and saved to buy- there was no way I was going to give that up so easily! Moreover, I didn't even have the money to afford the insurance.

Given how pissed off I was, there was no guarantee I wouldn't end up splitting the skull of the shopkeeper who sold this kind of trip as a product once I returned to Japan.

Even as I imagined executing the ' with my knee, I begged around desperately. Although the police were sympathetic, there was a feeling in the air that heinous crimes like murder took precedence over my case.

... And, the elderly police officer, who was flipping through the report again, surveyed the scene of the robbery and muttered something.

The translation of what he said went something along the lines of, (!)

"... Maybe there's a chance of recovering your camera... But it's not something I'd recommend."

<=>

"Iya iya... What a terrible disaster.."

Appearing at the meeting point was a gentleman, still in his early years of his life.

A head of chestnut-colored hair and round glasses. This man looked just like the stereotypical banker. His extremely fluent Japanese had tricked me into thinking he was Japanese at first... but on closer inspection he looked completely different from a Japanese person.

Earlier, the middle-aged police officer rang some place, gave me the directions to the location and just told me 'Ask the man there for help. There'll be a translator'. The complicated expression on his face as he said this left the deepest impression of all.

"You're quite fortunate, aren't you?... That head of the investigative department who introduced us, Paul Noah- we've met quite a few times... If not for him, you'd be ."

To use a colloquial phrase like "crying yourself to sleep"- this man's grasp of Japanese must be quite extraordinary. And his pronunciation wasn't the slightest bit out of place... No, it should be said his speech has a more ancient flavor to it than the modern Japanese.

"I've heard about your problem... I'm afraid your belongings have been taken by Bobby and his crew... Iya, pranksters have been frequenting this area recently."

... This was on the same level as a prank?

In any case, there was something fishy about this man. He was probably some kind of detective, but for some reason I couldn't read him at all and the aura he gave off felt somewhat different from the usual person.

But screw that, even just finding someone I could communicate with was extremely reassuring.

... This thought only lasted an instant.

"How does this sound? Your stolen belongings... in exchange for a tenth of its value, I'll have a little 'negotiation' with them and you'll get back your camera?"

... I see, he was probably the boss of the robbers' group. Not only would he get a tenth of the profit, he avoided unnecessary fuss as well as eliminating the need to exchange the stolen items for money.

Well, still, a cut of a tenth of the value was an extremely good offer. Thinking this, I agreed without letting my guard down in front of that man.

"OK, deal."

The man told me that he would guide me to some place.

Were they planning to take my organs and sell them? Because of this anxiety churning in my stomach, I decided to scream 'herupu' while escaping if the situation took a turn for the worse.

At any rate, killing to sell harvested organs could be described as 'flesh trade'.

Amidst all my musing over these useless matters, I was led to a bar at the corner of a larger street.

A beehive was drawn on the signboard, with a line of English letters written in the cells of the honey comb. Since I didn't know how to read English, I just called it the 'Beehive Store' for convenience's sake.

On entering into the store, I could smell the sweet scent of honey. The interior was larger than it looked from the outside. And though I said it was a bar, it wasn't unreasonable to think of it as a high-class restaurant.

I had no intention of stirring up trouble. Thinking this, I took a closer look at my surroundings. The unreadable man was definitely present, but when I saw there were also old people, children, and even couples, I relaxed.

That man walked into the depths of the store and said something to another man. The other man nodded silently and disappeared at the back of shop without taking anything with him.

"Aah, I told him about the situation... Just now, I was asking him to retrieve the item. Iya, we've seen those youngsters around... so I think we'll find them very soon."

He and the robbers were clearly together on this and yet he kept his façade of innocence. But of course I didn't say it out loud.

"Maa, since we're waiting anyway why don't we chat a little."

Even if he said something like that, I had no clue what we should chat about. Whatever, I'd just ask why his Japanese is so good.

"Aah... one of the top people in the organization is Japanese... He's called Yaguroma-san, but y'know, he taught me many things. Maa, I learnt the modern speech and tone from movies and Japanese comics."

Organization? So it was some Mafia-type organization after all. At this point, it no longer mattered whether they were Mafia or anything, I asked him directly about it.

"No... we're not Mafia. Although generally we're regarded as the same type of organization... we're actually 'Camorra'. Do you know what it is?"

I have never heard of this word before.

"Organizations from Sicily, in Italy, are 'Mafia'... originally they were the armed police forces of rural villages... but you can say they used to be the self-defense troops. But although we 'Camorra' also originate from Italy, we're from Naples. I suppose one could say our organization was formed in prisons, but I'm not very clear on the details myself."

So they originated from prisons? Just this fact made this 'Camorra' sound worse than 'Mafia', but I kept these kinds of thoughts to myself.

"My role in our group is the '', the bookkeeper. Maa, a bit like those who control the group's finances... In the Mafia it's the accountants who are in charge."

From my point of view, both sides looked pretty much the same.

"Haha... Maa, nowadays people always call us 'Mafia'. Mafia drug dealers, Chinese Mafia, Russian Mafia, Mafia smugglers... However, the 'Camorra' are powerful in Naples. But we were born in America, so you can say we're 'orphans' with no direct connection to Naples."

Although he had revealed a lot of information about the inner workings of these organizations, I could understand only a small portion of what he was talking about. I never had any dealings with any violent organizations in Japan. In my eyes, these 'Camorra' and 'Mafia'... In any case, these people who live in the dark side of society didn't feel real to me.

"That's only natural. Even amongst people living in New York, those who come into contact with gangs make up less than even 1% of the population. Of course, this includes those who are directly hurt by gangs. I'm quite a nosy person myself, so there are times when I introduce myself to people like you. However, the number of people who are even able to meet me is but a fraction of that 1%."

... Truth was, I wanted to cry about just how bad my luck was.

But I'm already hooked by that man's conversational skills. How should I put it, it was like chatting to a friend I've known for many years, even though in reality we didn't even know each other's names.

"Iya... Actually, the count should be higher. It's just that the people who're aware of the existence of Mafia rarely speak of these matters..."

This was the stuff of movies. It was true the Mafia observed the ', while ordinary citizens probably pretended they didn't see anything for fear of revenge.

But... Having said that, how then did one explain this person, who was telling someone he had just met about these organizations?

"Haha! Maa, I don't know about other organizations, but here we're not so uptight about things. And we don't do such monstrous deeds like revenge. ...Among the Sicilian Mafia, members are forbidden to say anything about being part of their organization. Camorra... once were like the American Mafia... but now, we members will all come out straight and say our own organization's name... and even the Boss himself will accept media interviews."

So you guys like showing off? At my question, there was a moment of silence, then he exploded into peals of laughter.

After laughing for a while, he gazed at me with considerable interest and remarked,

"... You. You actually dared to say that in front of me, a Camorra, huh... Aren't you scared?"

Absolutely not.

"... Or perhaps you doubt I'm a gangster?"

Absolutely not. Even if you were lying, there was no special need to trick me with the Camorra.

"... You're a strange one... When I heard about you from that guy, Paul, I thought you were the stereotypical gullible Japanese."

How kind of you. And given how fluent your Japanese has been so far, you should be aware the proper way of addressing one's elders is '-san'. Like Paul-san, for example. Even if the age hierarchy is less prominent in America, as the younger person, you should at least show some respect, right? ... Although this was what I learned from the guidebook.

With this one sentence, the gears of my life went crazy, like a switch had been flipped. In that instant, it changed beyond my wildest imaginations.

This time the silence dragged on much longer, then he chortled as he said to himself,

"What a coincidence... Hm... Isn't it interesting..."

What was he talking about? While I was confused, he gave an impish grin, like a child finding a new plaything... or as though he was about to pull a prank- that was the kind of smile he directed at me.

And, after showing a somewhat perplexed expression, as though he was struggling with how to phrase something, he whispered to me,

"Paul is... younger than me."

Ah... huh? Wait a minute, what did he just say? That cop just now, no matter how you looked at him, was already past his prime... Did that cop have such an aged face?

"He does, doesn't he... Back to what we were talking about... Over the past 60 years, there've been at most a hundred people to whom I've introduced myself as a Camorra. Of course this excludes the people who already know me and the police... That was how it was originally. Come to think of it, without a fateful meeting like this, I would have never had the opportunity to get to know a proper tourist like you. Haha!"

For a moment, I thought I had heard wrongly. 60 years. This youth in front of me...? Although I wasn't sure how to gauge a white person's age by just his features, this youth before my eyes simply couldn't be even halfway to 60 years old!

Seeing my unbelieving expression, he adjusted his glasses while saying the following embarrassedly.

"Iya, I'm an immortal. I can't die."

Hoooo, so this guy liked cracking American jokes?

"Ah, you don't believe me, do you. But it's true, whether I'm cut or burned, I won't die."

Sticking to the story stubbornly was a special characteristic of American jokes.

Hearing me make polite sounds of comprehension, he smiled sweetly and-

-pulled out a small knife from his breast pocket and stabbed his hand.

In that split second, I didn't fully comprehend what had happened. Where the knife protruded from the man's hand, crimson blood started to trickle out. Seeing me in the state of astonishment, he smiled as he said,

"It's all right... See?"

He slowly pulled out the knife. I thought fresh blood would fountain out but the flow of blood stopped completely.

At this point, I saw something that completely blew my mind away.

The man's blood that had spilt onto the table... it started wriggling like a sentient organism. As though wanting to return to its owner's body, it was sucked back into his wound. When all the blood had returned, the man's wound automatically disappeared without a trace. There wasn't the single bloodstain left on the table.

If this had occurred on the screen of a theater, I would have laughed it off as cheesy special effects. But unfortunately, this was happening right before my eyes.

Be it the gravity-defying movement of the fluid or the instantaneous healing, one couldn't help but feel the cliché looked prettier in CG. But this only added to the surreality of the situation.

The supernatural event that had occurred in this store... no, in this world- it couldn't possibly be just me who was aware of them? In this bar with a somewhat classic feel, a man had just performed a feat that warped the law of physics. Yet not a single worker or customer cast a look in this direction.

After thinking for a while, I spoke. Sitting in front of me... what kind of person was this?

Would he kill me?

For a moment, the man looked a bit dazed, then he once again grinned at me.

"This is the first time I've seen this kind of reaction... until now, those who've seen this, if they're not pulling out crosses they're pointing guns at me but... Ah, of course, the latter have all been taken away by the police. Iya iya, I really pity them. Then again, just the sight of me pulling out of my knife has scared away quite a few people."

That's only natural.

"... Why would I kill you?"

Because I think you're a monster. I replied honestly. I felt bad for speaking of him as a monster, but, at the same time, I wanted to warn him against frightening people out of their wits with this real trick ever again.

"... You're a rare one. You're the first to react so calmly."

People said that I only looked calm or that I was insensitive. Regardless of what others said, ever since I was almost eaten by black bear in Hokkaido, my feelings of shock and fear have been somewhat lacking. Someone once suggested that I become a war photographer, but since I knew nothing about surviving on battlefields I would definitely die. And since I had no reason to die, I stuck to being an animal photographer.

Upon hearing my words, that man looked at me, his eyes filled with glee. (!)

"You truly are a very interesting person. I know, since it's a hard opportunity to come by, would you like to listen to a legend of mine? A story about the time I gained this power of immortality, and various other related stories... It's a great way of passing time, don't you think?"

It's a very interesting topic indeed... But is it all right for someone you've met for the first time to hear all this?

"No problem. Besides, even if you told other people no one would believe you."

I pressed to make sure he wasn't related to any religion. How could I still be so calm with an immortal before my eyes? To think of it only now, I must be really slow.

"A-aa, don't worry. I'm really not related in any way to that kind of stuff. I just want to kill some time, that's all. ...Maa, but this story does have a 'demon'."

This man, a self-proclaimed 'conta è oro' of the Camorra, who at the same time seemed to be an immortal. After ordering some food from the waitress, he slowly started the 'legend'.

"... Well then, let's begin... A man who, through drinking the demon's wine, became immortal. This is the lonely, lonely story of this sorry man. The setting is the Prohibition-era New York. The story of the countless fates surrounding the sudden appearance of the '', and the spiral of the people involved........."