Lucky Dog 1 translations 08 Luchino route 04

Part 3: Daivan

Chapter 8

Curiosity and the Dog

Gian: Th-The fuck is all this?!

I freeze an inch from the entrance to our temporary quarters – and am just as close to spraying spittle onto the carpet. Blood boiling, I start demanding answers from the ass standing next to me.

Gian: What in God’s name is all of this?!

Luchino: Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. They’re just personal belongings—

Gian: There’s “personal belongings,” and then there’s this!!

Laid out before me…

…from room to hallway, spilling out the door like an overturned moving van, are mountains of furniture, wooden chests, and cardboard boxes.

Gian: Aagh, and the moving crew are back with more!! Did you forget I’m using this room, too?!
Luchino: One cannot live without one’s furnishings. Don’t worry. I’m only bringing a few possessions from my house. Pay it no heed.
Gian: The fuck?! You want furnishings, they’re in every single damn room of this hotel! You daft knucklehead!!

Luchino: You’re the daft knucklehead here, boy! I’m not a man cheap enough to be satisfied with stock furniture.

Gian: Not to mention, no one in the God damn world has this much furniture! What, do you normally hole up in a department store or something?!

Luchino ignores my question and instead turns to a mover hauling in a huge chest.

Luchino: Oh, please leave that there. I’ll take it.

Luchino picks up the trunk and lugs it to the wardrobe filled with his clothes. He puts it down next to a stool and undoes the locks.

Gian: Well, that looks pretty important. You have your Teddy in there or something?
Luchino: Bingo. Hah! Take your pick.
Gian: Eh…? What d’you mean?

Luchino rustles through the trunk and extracts a box from it. He places it on the dressing table nearby and reaches in…

…and tosses one dull black lump after another towards me onto the bed. One. Two. Three. And one box. Another box. …Pistols, holsters, and their ammo.

Oh right, I haven’t been carrying this whole time, ever since we’d broken out of the slammer. …I’m not a huge fan of these things…

Gian: Say, were you packing the whole day today?

Luchino: Does a salmon piss in the river? The only dimwits stepping foot outside without a piece in this current situation are fools and people named Gian.

Gian: Eeh, shaddap.

Leaving the rest of the truck alone, Luchino takes out some paper boxes and puts them on the desk. …They don’t feel too important. Don’t think they’ve got jewels or anything valuable inside.

…Oh. But if he went out of his way to have something so mundane brought here, maybe there’s something indescribably embarrassing inside!

Luchino: Sigh… Calling first dibs on the bath.
Gian: Want me to join you?
Luchino: You’re spoiled for choice. Take your pick and off yourself. Moron.

Luchino jabs his finger at the bed before heading to the bathroom.

A moment later, I hear the faint splash of bathwater. The pahpah of the shower is strangely lulling.

Gian: Yaaaaawn … I’m pooped…

With nothing to do, I aimlessly pace like a mutt caged in by the walls of moving crates. Eventually, I end up by the fireplace…

Gian: Wow. Sweet suite.

There’s an electric fridge here. I pull the door open, and inside’s champagne and white wine from yards I’d never heard of before. Mm, and are these cans of caviar and cheese?

Gian: Bless every one of our nickel and dime.

I pull out a bottle of champagne with a glass that’d been chilling with it. I’ll probably leave half of this, but it’s not my problem.

Gian: Happy birthday to sooomeone…

…Who’da thought that popping open a champagne bottle alone would feel so empty.

Gian: …Mm…

There’s less noise from the bathroom now. All I can hear is the occasional swish of hot bath water. Sounds like Luchino’s completely settled himself in.

I sneak over on tiptoes (though nobody’s looking or listening) … and my grubby paws creep towards the paper boxes on the desk that’d attracted my attention earlier.

Gian: Now then. Why don’t you show me what shameful secrets of his you’re hiding?

The first box is jam-packed with paperwork of some kind. Boooring. Next. Next is… Are these receipts? Another miss. Next.

Guy’s makeup. Cologne. Hair styling stuff. Accessories… Yet another box has completely ordinary pens and scissors and combs and knives and notepads.

Gian: The hell? That’s no fun. He just brought his entire desk from home over, didn’t … he…?

Inside the last box, I find another box inside it that’s different from the rest. A box of red felt, tiny as a baby’s palm. It’s a bit too small to be for glasses. Plus, it looks cheap.

I pop open the lid.


Gian: Eh…

It’s … a ring case.

Two slits for two rings. One holds a dull silver ring, fitted with a blunt diamond… The other … holds nothing…

…A ring case for two holding just one…?

Gian: (…Are these wedding rings…? Oh…)

It takes an eon, but it finally hits me. That Luchino’d been a married man. That he’d had a wife and daughter. And…

…the talk that both of them had passed. No, it’s not that I’d forgotten, but … my brain refuse to connect them to the ring I’m holding.

Gian: (The other ring’s…)

For some reason, my fingers tremble like a stricken babe when I pick up the ring. Staring down at it, I find there’s a name engraved along the inside…

Gian: …!

‘You can’t look!’ my gut says. …That’s when…

Gian: Aah?!

…I hear the bathroom door open. My heart leapfrogs thump! to my throat. I hurriedly return the ring and close the box and return it to where I found—

Luchino: Phew. Bath’s free now. Hurry and haul your ass in.
Gian: Y-Yeah. Sure.

…Crap. There’s no way for him to know, but for some reason I can’t keep my heart from beating quick as a rabbit’s. At the sight of Luchino, fresh out of bath, I feel an ugly clamminess as cold sweat pours from my body.

…I’ve betrayed Luchino.

The thought – the impossible thought – drops into my gut like a sinking weight.

Luchino: Have you settled on a piece yet?
Gian: Y-Yeah.
Luchino: What’s wrong? You’re acting str— Ah! You bastard! You popped open one of the champagnes?!
Gian: O-Oh, yeah! Hahaha! Been ages since I had some, so I got all carried away and—
Luchino: Fuck, and the halfwit just left it open, just like that?! Shiiit! It’s gone all flat now… What a God damn waste!
Gian: My bad, my bad. …Then, I’ll be heading in for a shower then.
Luchino: Tsk, all right. I’m gonna drop these papers off to Bernardo. He can be a downright nag if you leave it sitting…

I scramble into the bathroom, practically in a frantic flee.

Gian: Sigh…

The feeling’s so bad that that I – the Number One Bath-Hater – would rather hide out here. …I shouldn’t have done that. And now, what’s done’s done, and all that’s left is this awful feeling and this God-awful circumstance.

It shouldn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter what kind of family he had, what keepsakes he kept…

Gian: He keeps it … so close…

Even if he doesn’t stow it away in a safe, I can tell that the ring is something really important to him. If not, he wouldn’t have brought it here…

Gian: Fuck…


I vent at the wall until I’m left with nothing but a smarting fist… This fucking sucks. My
half-hearted binge only made everything feel even worse.

The things Luchino treasures… The things so important to him… The things he shuts inside himself and never lets out…

It’s like I wanna take all those things and smash ‘em to pieces. The absolute fucking worst feeling.

When I leave the bathroom, the room is empty. Guess he’s still at Bernardo’s talking shop.

Gian: Fucking go to Hell, vaffanculo—!

That night, I slept with the guns overrunning the bed. I think I sense Luchino coming back in the night, but I just turn away and continued paving my way to dreamland in curses…

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