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Prologue

“She’s not that different from R|aidou in age or looks.”

This was Zara, the head of the Merchant Guild in the Academy City of Rotsgard. The day’s most significant guest had just departed, and his voice barely broke the silence that lingered after the heavy door clicked shut.

On the polished surface of his desk lay stacks of documents printed on the finest paper, each one meticulously prepared. For a few moments, Zara stared at the door, lost in thought, before refocusing on the papers. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, not from exhaustion but from a concern that had settled deep and was refusing to leave.

“She understands the nuances of commerce far better than he does. And she doesn’t just see things as a hero but as a policymaker. I used to think Gritonia had the upper hand in statecraft, what with Princess Lily at the helm, but I may need to reconsider.”

The guest who left Zara so troubled had arrived under the recommendation of none other than a prince of Limia, one of the wealthiest hyuman nations in the world. Specifically, it was the second prince, Joshua, who had recently been making a name for himself as a capable political aide to the king.

“I’ll be passing through,” he had said casually, “so let’s meet for lunch.”

Zara, recognizing the opportunity, readily accepted.

That lunch meeting introduced him to Hibiki Otonashi, a woman whose name had already begun to echo across the world, for she was the hero of the Kingdom of Limia.

Hibiki Otonashi

Once, in another world, she’d been a senior at the very same high school as Raidou, whose true name was Makoto Misumi. Zara couldn’t have known, of course. There was no way he could have.

Both as guildmaster and as a merchant, Zara knew that connecting with a hero wasn’t just advantageous; it was invaluable. He’d assumed Joshua was tossing him a diplomatic sweetener, a carefully calculated favor.

“And at a time like this, she has the nerve to say, ‘invest in Limia’s reconstruction’? Unbelievable. We’re barely recovering from the mutant attack ourselves.”

Zara mentally corrected himself almost immediately. No, not unbelievable. Calculated.

A slight grimace crossed his face, like he was a gambler realizing his hand had been read and outplayed. He was no stranger to the shifting tides of negotiation, but this particular move had stung.

It was true, Rotsgard had been absolutely ravaged during the recent incident, and rebuilding was still in full swing. But if someone asked whether the city or its merchants were completely stretched thin, well, the truth was more complicated.

Rotsgard’s recovery had been unexpectedly swift, bolstered by two powerful forces. First, the academy’s lecturers, always entangled in factional politics, had thrown themselves into the effort with renewed zeal, eager to curry favor and secure advantage. Second, and much less expected, was the presence of a particular exceptional trading company. Their contribution had been nothing short of a miracle.

Then there was the matter of the old guard: wealthy merchants who had perished during the attack. Many of their assets, especially those acquired through questionable means, had ended up in a legal gray area. Some had been claimed through illicit transfers; others floated, unclaimed, with no heirs in sight.

Thanks to a swift and frankly cunning intervention by Zara and his longtime ally Patrick, a significant portion of those untethered fortunes now rested under the stewardship of the Merchant Guild.

So, no, Rotsgard was far from destitute. Outwardly, it wore the guise of a city still licking its wounds, its body and soul in tatters. But within its walls, Zara was orchestrating a delicate operation: alongside the reconstruction, there was a restructuring of the guild’s power dynamics.

That was precisely why Limia’s request had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“They played it well,” he muttered. “One wrong move, maybe two, and instead of selling them a favor, we’d be the ones getting swallowed whole. Damn.”

A memory from their lunch meeting resurfaced in his mind.

Long, lustrous black hair. Eyes that brimmed with sincerity—open, inviting, devoid of malice—and yet carried a quiet, unshakable resolve. A smile that could disarm without effort and command without arrogance.

Hmph.

Zara couldn’t help but be impressed. The person he met matched the glowing rumors surrounding her with uncanny precision. That rarely happened in his experience. In most cases, fame exaggerated the truth, twisting it into something unrecognizable.

The most extreme case of this phenomenon was Raidou. But Hibiki? Hibiki Otonashi was a near-perfect reflection of her reputation.

“You’re asking for cooperation and investment in reconstruction now, of all times?” Zara asked. “I’ve heard the reports. What happened in Limia’s capital was nothing short of tragic, and we do sympathize. But Rotsgard was also struck by disaster without warning. As you can imagine.”

“Of course. I understand full well how unreasonable such a request must seem.” Hibiki’s tone was composed and courteous, never faltering for a moment. “But as His Highness Prince Joshua informed me, Rotsgard, the proud city of sages and scholars, has made extraordinary progress. It’s humbling, truly. In Limia, I’m ashamed to admit we’ve yet to achieve anything comparable. You must have had invaluable expertise, and of course, the aid of your brilliant mages working selflessly to heal the city.”

“Hah. To hear praise like that from a representative of the Kingdom of Limia—it’s quite the honor.” Zara let out a dry chuckle, but he kept his expression neutral. “When calamity strikes, the academy and the merchants come together. We want the same thing, after all: To get things back to normal as soon as possible. And yet, even if the buildings can be made to look exactly as they once did, some things can never be restored. Some losses are permanent. No, I couldn’t possibly claim we’re fully recovered.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Hibiki said gently. “It was a tragedy. Many nobles and merchants lost their lives in Rotsgard. Some of them originally came from Limia, if I’m not mistaken. The incident here wasn’t just your crisis. We share responsibility, especially since we failed to offer aid when it was most needed. His Majesty has expressed deep regret for that. At the very least, we intend to offer full support in dealing with the aftermath. The lives lost here carried the hopes of countless futures; priceless, irreplaceable lives drawn from across the world. Every nation should be contributing its strength to this cause.”

The conversation had started with soft jabs, gentle prodding to test the waters. But before long, they were swimming in the deep end.

Zara, though no stranger to diplomatic maneuvering, felt a magnetic pull coming from Hibiki. Her voice never lost its warmth, yet each word subtly shifted the tone, until what had begun as a friendly lunch had unmistakably become a negotiation table.

“So, you mentioned aftermath management?” he asked, his fingers loosely clasped over the tablecloth.

“Yes.” Hibiki nodded. “We’ll need information: surviving kin of Limian citizens in the kingdom, financial records of merchant groups with no members left, anything that might prove essential. We’ll act on it promptly. And if necessary, we’ll bring the matter to other nations under Limia’s banner as well. This is a time for rapid coordination.”

“That would be most helpful. We’ll be counting on your cooperation.”

“Please, leave it to us. Now, to circle back to our earlier topic.” Hibiki’s voice remained calm, but the gravity in her words deepened. “Frankly speaking, Limia no longer has any surplus to spare. And yet, there’s no guarantee that the demons will show mercy or pause their assault. Which means we must prepare, no matter the cost.”

“Of course,” Zara replied with a nod, his expression steady.

But inside his head, a warning bell had started to ring louder and louder.

Information about the assets of the bereaved?

She’s not asking for that just to appeal to our sense of sympathy, is she?

And now she brings up the demon attacks. Clever. If we’re caught slacking in our support, they’ll have grounds to shift the blame onto us. She’s not just some sweet-faced girl playing diplomat; she’s playing the long game.

In his mind’s eye, he could almost see her words transforming into their true meaning.

“That wealth you’re sitting on? The money you scooped up amid all the chaos? Part of it came from us, didn’t it? So, wouldn’t it be fair if some of it went toward our recovery, too?”

“Or would you rather we start poking around? We can reach out to other countries, trace every coin, and investigate every asset transfer after the fact. Clarify just who that money belongs to.

“And while you’re tangled in all that, what happens if the demons invade again? How much longer do you think the world will see Rotsgard as the poor victim?”

Zara saw it all, playing behind that polite, disarming smile.

She’s good. Scary good.

It couldn’t have been more different from his first meeting with Raidou. That boy had been blunt, detached, and almost uninterested in political maneuvering. But this? This was the exact opposite.

“And so,” Hibiki went on, “I’ve come to make this rather shameless request of every major city and nation I can reach.”

“No, no,” Zara said, forcing a laugh. “Thanks to the unwavering stand taken by Limia and Gritonia, we’ve had this brief window of peace. Without your efforts on the front lines, things could be far worse. There’s no shame in what you’re asking for.”

He had to say that.

Because the truth was plain: It was Limia and Gritonia who had taken on the bloodiest burden. They’d fought the demon army directly, lost soldiers, sacrificed their own. And no one knew that better than the woman sitting across from him.

Zara decided to slip in a carefully veiled barb, just enough to sting without provoking.

“If you’re looking for assistance, I’d imagine Gritonia, your close ally in this joint effort, would be better positioned. What’s the situation there, I wonder?”

He knew perfectly well Hibiki wouldn’t risk indebting herself to Gritonia. Not if she could help it.

“I’m glad to hear you understand,” Hibiki said with a soft smile. “However, I should mention that Gritonia has also suffered heavily in the recent attacks. Both our nations are doing everything we can to recover, rallying our people to rebuild.”

She paused, eyes lowering for just a moment before meeting Zara’s again with genuine gravity.

“But Gritonia is endowed with a far colder climate. With winter approaching, their situation is considerably harsher than ours. I believe they’re pushing for recovery even harder—because they must.”

No loans from Gritonia, huh? Of course not. That’d be a fool’s move. And she’s even got her excuse wrapped up in a tidy little bow. Tch.

Everyone knew it: Limia and Gritonia might be allies against the demons, but that alliance was a tightrope walk over knives. Behind their forced cooperation, the two powers were locked in a quiet, bloody competition for influence.

When they shook hands, they did so with their other hands hidden behind their backs. Of course, neither side wanted to owe the other a thing.

“Now, as for Limia’s specific request to Rotsgard,” Hibiki said, smoothly transitioning without waiting for Zara’s reply, “you’ll find the details outlined here.”

She slid a folder across the table, then pointed to a spot on a neatly drawn map of the capital.

“We’re asking for assistance in reconstructing this bridge in the southeastern district and the surrounding area, if possible. Of course, if Rotsgard is willing to support recovery in other parts of the city as well, we would be deeply grateful.”

The way she presented it was elegant, deferential, but unmistakably firm. Negotiations had officially begun.

“Oh?” Zara leaned over the map, eyes focusing in on the portion she indicated.

He knew that district. Everyone in the trade circuit did. It was one of the city’s busiest commercial zones, where public markets were frequently held, and merchants vied for prime positions. It was a valuable artery for both traffic and commerce.

His brow twitched, just slightly, but it was enough.

She saw it and smiled, sharp and pointed.

“I understand what we’re asking,” Hibiki said, her gaze holding his with new weight. “But I hope you’ll think of this as a loan to Limia. We will repay your costs in full. And once the area is restored, we’ll make sure everyone knows it was thanks to Rotsgard’s support that the bridge was rebuilt and the market reopened ahead of schedule.”

“That’s quite the comprehensive arrangement you’ve brought us, Hibiki-sama. However, well, there is the matter of the restoration costs. This is not a trivial issue. An immediate decision would be premature.”

He tapped the document laid before him, his fingertip pausing at a particularly galling line.

“I see here that you’re proposing Rotsgard bear the full financial burden of the repairs. And labor is to be sourced almost entirely from Limian citizens. While I see some exceptions for specialized roles, the initial outlay still leans heavily in Limia’s favor.”

It wasn’t a complaint—it was a challenge, delivered with calm precision. And rightly so; Hibiki’s terms were steep. For Rotsgard to cover all initial costs and hand most of the job opportunities to local workers, this wasn’t just a request for help. It was a calculated money grab under highly restrictive conditions. No merchant worth their salt would let that slide.

“Yes,” Hibiki said without hesitation. “I fully understand how unreasonable those terms appear. I know that, under normal circumstances, reimbursement from the national treasury would be expected, and it’s the only proper way to do business. I don’t deny the weight of the conditions we’ve placed.”

“Given the nature of the request, don’t you think the restrictions are a little excessive?”

“Absolutely, and we recognize that. We have prepared more information on the proposal, though I must admit it may not yield immediate returns. Still, I’d be grateful if you’d take a look.”

She flipped through the document, and when she found the page she was looking for, her fingertip hovered just above a block of text.

Zara’s eyes widened as he scanned the lines.

He saw it instantly.

To the untrained eye, these terms would look vague. But this wasn’t an oversight; it was a lever. A pivot point. A message that spoke between the lines.

“You’re saying this isn’t a request to Rotsgard,” he said, his voice low and slow. “It’s a request to the Rotsgard Merchant Guild?”

“Yes.”

“You’re asking the guild to assist the kingdom. Not the city itself.”

It was a subtle distinction, but one with massive implications.

If the Merchant Guild answered Limia’s call rather than the city as a whole, the academy would be left out of the equation. And in Rotsgard, where the academy and the Merchant Guild were the two dominant forces, such a shift would undeniably ripple through the city’s political structure.

But from the guild’s perspective?

It was a golden opportunity.

A chance to extend influence abroad and score a powerful, lucrative debt from a great kingdom, independent of the academy’s authority.

“For the duration of the recovery,” Hibiki said, “establishment rights in the area will be limited to merchant companies of a certain size. Five, to be exact. Those five will retain permanent operating rights after restoration.”

“In other words…”

“Yes. The Merchant Guild may select five firms of appropriate standing. The Kingdom of Limia will officially recognize them, first as provisional vendors, then as permanent market holders. We will support the transition fully.”

“Five total, is that to be interpreted as five slots?”

“Yes. As you see fit.”

Plenty of merchant guilds across the country harbored ambitions of expanding into Limia. But opening a branch in the royal capital, the very heart of the kingdom, where nobility and royalty mingled, went beyond ambition. For a merchant, if leveraged properly, it could be a game-changing power play.

Given the circumstances, this opportunity could be uniquely advantageous for Zara. And if the offer gave him five slots rather than five specific firms, that opened the door for future replacements. A revolving opportunity. In a word: leverage.

Now that the broad strokes were laid out, Zara continued to verify the fine details of Limia’s proposal with Hibiki.

There were moments where she subtly pressed him, hints of caution laced into her words, but even those came wrapped in a package no merchant could ignore.

The proposed upfront costs to assist with Limia’s reconstruction weren’t trivial. In fact, they bordered on unreasonable. That didn’t change the fact that the proposal carried real value.

Still, the actual weight behind the request, the unspoken threat of what might happen should he refuse, was something Zara could feel in every turn of the negotiation.

He couldn’t help but admire Hibiki for it.

She answered every one of his questions with her own words, never once deferring to others, never once floundering.

When she did fall silent, it was never from a lapse in understanding, but from a calculated pause, loaded with implication. She had a complete grasp of the situation; of the proposal in its entirety, of the strengths and weaknesses on both sides, and of her own standing within this delicate exchange.

She even predicted where the funding for this operation was originally coming from, Zara realized. She laid out incentives so compelling that I, not to mention the guild and every prospective merchant, couldn’t help but be tempted. It’s a tough deal in the short term, no doubt about it. But looking ahead, this might be worth it.

Still, this girl. If she’s already this sharp now, what will she become in ten years?

To think, the first person I ever wanted as a successor turned out to be a hero. What a twisted joke.

Hibiki gave a warm, formal smile.

“We of Limia hope to maintain a lasting and prosperous relationship with Rotsgard. Of course, healthy competition between the Royal Academy and Rotsgard Academy will surely continue—as it should. A worthy rival is a blessing in any endeavor, after all.”

“I understand,” Zara replied. “I can’t give you an answer today, given the stakes, but I know my decision. I’ll raise it at the next guild assembly, and I do believe we’ll be able to give you a favorable answer.”

“I’m so glad. Truly. I won’t forget the burden I’ve placed on you today. Zara-sama, although I’m still young and inexperienced, I can say with certainty that you’re someone who will stand with us in war and walk beside us in peace. Thank you!”

“The gratitude is mine. What I intended as a simple greeting has become a negotiation beyond my expectations, and a meeting with a remarkable ally. We merchants are often more skilled in the art of hoarding wealth than in building peace with it. Please, don’t hesitate to bring us your proposals again in the future.”

“Not at all! The quiet support that merchants offer, though often unseen, I feel with me every single day. When merchants are free to do their work, it breathes life into a nation. It’s no exaggeration to say you are the very pulse of the kingdom. I look forward to our continued partnership. And please, do come and visit the royal capital sometime. I would be honored to welcome you personally.”

As Hibiki turned to leave, she glanced over her shoulder with a smile. Then she made a promise that wasn’t written in the materials: Regardless of the five available slots, if Zara wished to expand his own business into Limia, she would personally see it through.

With that, she departed, her presence as crisp and clean as an autumn breeze.

Left alone in the quiet of the reception room, Zara finally gave voice to a thought that had lingered unspoken until now, the sharp contrast between Hibiki and Raidou.

Both had left a powerful impression on him in recent days, but the nature of those impressions couldn’t have been more different.

“If you lined the two of them up,” he murmured, rubbing his chin, “anyone with eyes would pick Hibiki. So why did Pat choose Raidou? Hibiki and her team stayed in Tsige for a while. There’s no way he missed the chance to evaluate the hero firsthand. He’s not the type to be blinded by timing or first impressions. So, Raidou, huh?”

Zara leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed, thoughts tangled.

He definitely stands out. He sticks in your mind, but even so, hmm.

What surfaced next was the face of his old friend, an irreplaceable rival, and at times, a thoroughly bad influence.

Patrick Rembrandt was a man with an uncanny gambler’s instinct. There were plenty of times Zara doubted his judgment as a merchant, but in all the years they’d known each other, Patrick had never lost a big bet.

When he went all in, it didn’t matter how unbelievable the odds looked—somehow, he always came out ahead. At least that’s how it had always been.

Zara himself had never been one for betting. Instead, he ran the house. He was always the one holding the pot, skimming profits off the risks others took.

He let out a low hum as he ran his fingers across the papers Hibiki had handed him. They were remarkably smooth—high-grade, expensive stock.

Until now, he hadn’t even known such advanced papermaking techniques existed in Limia.

Perhaps Limia could begin exporting this paper as a luxury commodity.

Zara could already see the profit potential, even from this single sheet. Depending on the price point, it could be anything from a significant windfall to an industrial revolution.

Hibiki knew that. Of course she did. He took it as an unofficial parting gift, a discreet token of goodwill.

She even slips in high-grade sample paper like it’s nothing, he mused.

Then there’s Raidou, a fledgling merchant who can’t even properly navigate internal politics in a single city’s guild.

And yet, despite all that, both Hibiki and Raidou left the same weighty impression on him. Equal in some strange, undefinable way.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose.

“I don’t get it. Haaah Well, first things first. Let’s calculate how much this absurdly massive relief and investment package is going to cost. Because frankly, I already know the return will be more than worth it.”

He gathered the documents, stacked them neatly, and locked them away in a drawer.

Moments later, Zara stepped out to summon his people. It was time to begin the real work.

Chapter 1

Winter had settled like a heavy white blanket over the Academy City of Rotsgard.

Meanwhile, several months had passed since the incident during the festival—the mutant outbreak. The devastation had been brutal: countless citizens killed or wounded, large swaths of the city left in ruins. And yet, somehow, Rotsgard had already moved past mere recovery.

The city was beginning to breathe again.

Sure, there were still some patches of land left barren. But even those had the feel of a planned redevelopment zone rather than the aftermath of a disaster. The city clearly wasn’t just rebuilding, it was moving forward.

Of course, cities here were fundamentally different from those back in Japan on Earth. They played by different rules when it came to construction and infrastructure. But if I had to name the biggest reason for Rotsgard’s revival, there was no question about it—it was magic.

Transporting debris, recycling materials, reconstructing buildings, and laying down roads. Magic accelerated it all at a pace that would put modern Earth tech to shame. Watching the academy dispatch battalions of mages to work tirelessly on the reconstruction was truly jaw-dropping.

Even the way entire cities sprang up at breakneck speed in the Demiplane no longer felt surprising to me. In fact, I finally understood what the eldwars meant when they said, “We’re going slow because we’re doing it right.” They weren’t being modest; it was just the truth.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” came a soft voice, interrupting my thoughts. “Here’s your large lunch set.”

“Thanks.”

I, Misumi Makoto, glanced down at the tray that had appeared in front of me. So that’s large? I thought, not for the first time, that they needed to work on their portion names around here.

Still, I didn’t touch the food right away.

Instead, I sat there staring out the window.

This restaurant was only about a five-minute walk from the newly rebuilt Kuzunoha Company store. When I’d first thought about reopening the business, I’d seriously considered relocating entirely, maybe building a larger place out near the edge of town. More space, less hassle.

But then, while we were running the business out of a temporary location, something unexpected happened. A few shops near our original spot closed down or moved elsewhere. And just like that, a sizable chunk of land was on the market.

When it came to matters like this, there was no one more dependable than Shiki. After talking it through together, we went ahead and bought up the land all at once. In fact, the sellers were downright enthusiastic about it, and the whole deal wrapped up smoothly. Even if we decided to move the company to another city entirely, the first step would be to secure a base for the business.

In the end, though, our “relocation” turned out to be more of a minor shift, just a little closer to the academy than before.

The new store itself was definitely more spacious. We’d also hired a few part-time workers, and so far, business at the new location was going well. On days when I wasn’t busy teaching at the academy, I could even sneak out for a relaxed lunch nearby, like today.

By now, I’d pretty much worked my way through most of the restaurants along the new main street.

As for Shiki, he was still as obsessed as ever with hot pot. He went back to Ironclad so often that I was starting to wonder what kind of addictive substance they were putting in his food.

“This place feels more like a café than a restaurant,” I muttered under my breath. “Good for chatting with friends, maybe, but not so great if you’re here just to eat. Small portions, fancy décor. All right, so style over substance. Got it.”

Someone like Mio, the pickiest of my followers when it came to food, would’ve been thoroughly unimpressed.

She had zero interest in places that leaned more on atmosphere than flavor.

Looking around, I noted that the customer base here skewed young. Lots of students, mostly.

Now that I think about it, our shop gets quite a few of these types, too.

Maybe it was because we dealt in rare fruit? That was probably part of it.

Also, with the high rate of injury among Rotsgard students during training and practicums, it made sense that healing salves and medicinal supplies would be in demand. We stocked those, so that was another draw.

Oh, and I couldn’t ignore the fans of Jin and Abelia, students of mine and now part-time employees at the store. A fair number of customers came to see them.

Apparently, they’d already been relatively well known, but after showcasing their abilities during the festival and playing a part in that whole incident afterward, their popularity had skyrocketed.

“In any case, the shop’s doing just fine without me.”

I exhaled, half pride, half melancholy.

That was always the plan, though.

Even Aqua and Eris, forest ogres, were starting to grow into their roles. The shop could run just fine on a typical day, even if I never set foot in the building. That was good, because ever since the academy festival, I’d been getting invitations from all over the place. Most days, I was lucky if I got to spend more than a couple of hours in one place.

But if I wasn’t needed at the store, I might finally be able to start addressing some of the more pressing matters, like the visits I’d been putting off to Limia and Gritonia or that long-delayed meeting with the Demon King.

Come to think of it, Luto mentioned wanting a favor if I ever planned to travel far again. Something about handling a few errands along the way.

“Haaah No luck. I couldn’t get my hands on the Kuzunoha fruit set today either.”

“It’s a lottery before the shop even opens. You either get lucky, or you don’t.”

Two guys around my age were talking about the Kuzunoha Company out on the terrace, just a few tables away.

I turned my gaze toward them, careful not to draw attention. Probably students—but it was hard to tell without the academy uniforms.

“Man, I wish I knew someone with an inside connection,” the other man mused.

“From what I’ve heard, not even the part-time staff can pull strings. If you’re not a full-timer working the shop, your chances are basically zero. And they’re not hiring right now. Unless you’re personally acquainted with someone important, like that Shiki guy or the owner, Raidou, it’s hopeless. Jin and Abelia really lucked out.”

“No connections for me,” said the first guy. “Besides, it’s not even for me; it’s for my girlfriend. I swear, if she wants it so bad, she should line up herself. I could understand if she said, ‘Come with me to get it, it’s a limited edition,’ you know? That’d at least be kind of cute. But just telling me, ‘It’s limited, so go buy it for me,’ and that’s it? Seriously?” He sighed in exasperation.

Jin and Abelia again, huh? So these two are academy students.

“Wait. Are you saying you’ve never tried any?” His friend stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Not once. It’s fruit, man. Who cares? Honestly, I’m more interested in the weapons they sometimes sell. If I had to choose.”

“I mean, I get the weapon thing, but come on. That fruit? It’s insane. I’m telling you, even one taste is worth it.”

So even the fruit, huh.

Apparently, our limited-edition cut fruit sets were still considered rare treasures.

Maybe I should ask later just how bad the odds are for getting one.

“What, you’ve had some before? I’ve heard people say it’s not worth the price.”

“Yeah, and you know who says that? Either people who’ve never actually eaten it or those who don’t care about food in the first place. Me? If I could have that stuff once a week, I wouldn’t need dessert the rest of the time. Especially that yellow ring-shaped one—man, that’s the best.”

“Coming from the guy who eats parfaits at cafés every other day. Yellow ring? Is it like a cookie or something?”

Pineapple, huh?

I’d helped out a few times prepping those, cutting out the centers was weirdly satisfying. The pineapples from the Demiplane were easy to eat too. Even after you had a lot, they didn’t leave that harsh sting on your tongue like some of the ones on Earth.

We’d talked about canning them in syrup, but somehow, the dwarves had taken a liking to soaking them in what I could only describe as a potent, brandy-like alcohol. That was a recent twist. I could still remember Eris running around yelling, “This is a divine spritzer!”

“Whether it’s the medicine, the food, or even the weapons, Kuzunoha’s stuff just feels… different, you know? Like the level or quality is on another plane.”

“I totally agree. But more than anything…”

“The staff’s what makes it great.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

In perfect unison, the two of them nodded at each other, like kindred spirits bonding over their shared taste.

Getting compliments on our customer service. It made me unexpectedly happier. Felt personal, even.

When Jin and Abelia begged me to let them work at the store, I’d made sure to drill proper etiquette into them. It looked like they were putting that training to good use.

Even the forest ogres and the dwarves knew how to treat customers respectfully. Though once someone became a regular or got too friendly, things could get a bit dicey, especially with Eris. She had a, casual approach to boundaries.

“You get it, right?” one of the young men said. “I mean, when you talk about Kuzunoha’s poster girl, there’s only one person who fits the bill.”

“Totally. She caught me off guard at first, but now? Yeah. I’d take her as my mistress.”

Your mistress? That’s as far as your dreams go, huh? I almost choked on my thoughts. Don’t go saying disrespectful things about my employees, damn it.

If they were talking about a girl, it had to be Abelia.

“She’s reliable, does everything thoroughly and carefully. You can tell she’s got her act together.”

“She’s cute, gentle, and kind. Honestly, other girls could learn a thing or two from her.”

Wait, really? That girl?

I always thought she only had eyes for Shiki, but apparently, she made quite the impression on customers, too.

Still, reliable and meticulous? On top of being cute, gentle, and kind?

I mean, she’s a good girl, sure, no doubt about that. But are we talking about the same person? That’s a whole lot of praise. And it’s not like our shop even has uniforms or anything. No “uniform magic” to inflate anyone’s appeal.

“She’s like a princess.”

“A total princess.”

At the same time, they announced: “Aqua-san is the best,” and “Eris-san is the best.”

“Pffft!!! Gahk!!!” A blast of acidic fruit juice went straight down the wrong pipe, and I started coughing.

Gaaah!

Holy crap, that burns! That hit was so out of nowhere I couldn’t even brace for it.

As I hacked and wheezed, customers from other tables turned to look at me, some with sympathy, others with that “Oh no, a weirdo” expression.

I-I brought this on myself. No excuses. No defense.

Still, are those two out of their minds?! Aqua and Eris?!

“Huh?” one said, as the other remarked, “Wait, what?”

Apparently, they weren’t reacting to my choking but to one another, confused that the other had named a different “best” girl.

I wanted to tear into both of them, but I needed to get my breathing under control before I could even think of forming a sentence.

Aqua. Sure, she’s efficient. I’ll give her that. She takes her work seriously and does it well. But when it comes to customers, there’s this clinical, almost mechanical air about her.

And Eris? She’s tiny, so maybe that tricks people into thinking she’s cute. But gentle and kind?

Yeah, nah. Not even close.

Or so I thought.

Wait, seriously? Those guys are hyuman, and they’re talking about wanting demi-humans as mistresses? That’s pretty rare.

Maybe the Kuzunoha Company had finally sunk its roots deep enough into this city and its student population. Or maybe younger people were becoming more open-minded. Then again, could it be that Aqua or Eris rescued them during the mutant outbreak, and they got brainwashed or something?

“C’mon, man. The poster girl’s obviously Aqua. Nothing against Eris, but it’s Aqua’s presence that brings the charm.”

“Are you insane? Eris is the one who reads the room and senses what customers need before they even say it. That kind of attentiveness is the true mark of a poster girl. Aqua by herself comes off too stiff!”

Here it comes—the JKs.

No, not joshi kousei, high school girls, but jokyo-kurabe: the eternal, pointless battle of “which one’s better.”

These two were getting more fired up about this than they were when they were talking about actual store products.

Oh no. They’d stood up. Don’t tell me they’re about to start a brawl over this nonsense?!

Should I stop them?

No, my stepping in probably wouldn’t resolve anything. Honestly, I didn’t want to get involved in that debate in the first place. Best to leave it alone. That’s the adult thing to do. Yeah.

“Excuse me, you two!” A sharp voice rang out, slicing through the growing tension in the café like a blade.

It seemed a group of heroines had risen to intervene. I quietly cheered for them in my heart. You go, girls.

“Wh-What?” The two guys flinched under the piercing glares of a group of women seated at a nearby table.

“Kuzunoha’s real poster girl is obviously Shiki-san!”

That declaration was met with a fierce counterattack from another woman: “Excuse you! It’s clearly Lime-san!”

“Huh?! We’re talking about a poster girl!” one of the men objected. “Who said anything about guys?!”

“Gender doesn’t matter! The point is that the male staff at that store are super handsome, kind, and chill! That’s what makes them the best!”

Just like that, the whole café descended into chaos.

Seriously. What the hell is going on at the terrace tables?

I quietly paid my bill and made my way to the exit, leaving half a glass of juice on the table. This place had just made it onto my “never again” list.

I had zero interest in the impassioned debate erupting among what appeared to be our most die-hard fans. In fact, I was starting to regret ever listening in at all.

Even the café’s previously dispassionate staff seemed to have reached their limit. I caught sight of one of them approaching the terrace with an awkward, apologetic smile, clearly bracing to intervene.

This kind of attention might actually be a problem.

Ideally, people should be coming for the products. When they start coming for the staff, they hang around longer but don’t really buy much. That would be more of a distraction than a customer base.

The sun was bright and clear as I stepped out of the shop, its rays gleaming warmly against the stone road; it was a perfect afternoon.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice called from behind.

Hm? Me?

I turned to see a young woman standing on the road, looking hesitant but determined.

“Sorry to bother you,” she began politely. “I heard there’s a shop called the Kuzunoha Company around here.”

“Well, yes, just head down this street and…” I turned to give directions and froze.

“You’re lying,” she murmured.

It was quiet. It was almost like she was talking to herself, but the words hit me like a punch to the chest.

No, that’s my line.

There was no mistaking it. My mind reeled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Tch.”

Hibiki Otonashi -senpai.

I had run simulations in my head. Prepared a few casual reactions in case this ever happened. But this wasn’t any of them. We weren’t supposed to meet like this.

Is this fate? Or am I just cursed?

She studied me carefully, then gave a small, familiar smile.

“Misumi-kun, that was your name, wasn’t it?”

Wait, she remembers me?

We’d barely spoken before. Not even enough to call her an acquaintance. But, for someone like her, maybe that was all it took. Even back in our home world, she’d been impossibly perfect. No flaws, inside or out. It made you wonder if she was even real.

Why? Why did someone like her end up in this world, too?

“Otonashi-senpai,” I managed to say.

The words came out like a sigh, a whisper that I could barely push past my lips.

She shouldn’t be here.

Last I’d heard, Limia’s hero party had left for the Lorel Federation. They were supposed to be traveling fast, using teleportation to avoid detours. Rotsgard wasn’t even on their route.

Still, here she was. Standing in front of me and asking for directions to my shop.

She looked even sharper now than when she’d been student council president. A subtle edge in her gaze. Not unfriendly, but changed. Hardened.

I’ve always known where she is. She’s famous. It’s hard not to know. But I never expected to run into her by chance. I didn’t even consider it.

Maybe I should be thankful Shiki’s in the Demiplane today and not here. If someone in Limia recognized him from our visit to the capital, that could’ve turned into a serious problem.

Hibiki, though, she was here in Rotsgard. And not only that; she’d come looking for the Kuzunoha Company.

Does that mean she knows the shop belongs to someone named Raidou?

Probably.

But then, she called me Misumi Makoto. Not Raidou.

So, maybe she doesn’t know the connection yet?

Which raised the critical question: Should I introduce myself as Raidou? Or try to hide it?

If I gave her the name, she’d piece it all together: that I was the one running the shop, that the face of Kuzunoha and the summoned high school student were one and the same. But even if I didn’t tell her, if she came here looking for us, she'd find out eventually.

Wait. Would it even be a problem if she knew I was Raidou?

When I went to the capital of Limia, I was reasonably sure I never gave my shop name. So it wasn’t like there was a trail leading back.

But if the truth’s going to come out soon anyway…

Maybe being honest from the start was the smarter play.

I can just tell her I’m using an alias because there’s someone I really don’t want tracking my movements. Like, say, the Goddess.

Besides, if I start fumbling my words or acting sketchy, Senpai will see right through me. She’s sharp.

Yeah. I’ll go with Raidou.

It’s simpler. Cleaner. Better in the long run. Just imagining having to keep up the act forever makes my brain ache.

My thoughts were still a mess, but I’d finally managed to settle on a conclusion.

“Misumi-kun?”

Hibiki tilted her head with concern, and I realized I must’ve gone quiet for quite some time.

“Ah, right… Senpai, actually…”

I glanced away awkwardly, then met her eyes again.

Trying my best to keep my voice calm, I told her the truth: that I’d been going by the name Raidou.

Her reaction was far more intense than I expected.

Her eyes went wide. “Wait, you’re Raidou? That’s the same name as the one who runs Kuzunoha, right?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m the one managing Kuzunoha. Though honestly, I’m just getting by thanks to all the help around me.”

“Misumi-kun is… Raidou… W-Wait a second! That is important, but there’s something way more critical here!”

“Huh?”

“You, are you a hero? The Goddess told us there were only two heroes in this world. But if you’re here, does that mean you’re the third?”

“Ah, no, that’s… My circumstances are a little different from yours. What the Goddess said is true. There are only two heroes in this world. I’m not one of them.”

“But you were summoned by her, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes, technically.” I scratched my cheek. “But, ah, sorry. This probably isn’t the best place for a long conversation. Why don’t I take you to the shop first?”

“To Kuzunoha?” Hibiki paused, then nodded with a faint smile. “All right. I’ll take you up on that offer. Lead the way. But just so you know, I don’t have much time.”

“Of course. Do you have something urgent after this?”

Hibiki’s trip to the Lorel Federation wouldn’t be for sightseeing. Her party would be on a strict schedule.

May as well ask a bit while we walk.

It’d probably turn into an exchange of questions on both sides, but I didn’t mind. In fact, part of me was actually looking forward to it.

It was strange that she was alone. And even stranger, she was carrying her sword, bundled in cloth, slung across her back.

That stood out.

In Rotsgard, you rarely saw people walking around openly armed, especially not in the academy zone. Given her status, Hibiki would most likely be staying at a luxury inn with solid security. If so, why not leave the weapon behind? It would’ve made walking around the city far easier.

If she were heading somewhere dangerous, sure, keeping a weapon close would make sense, but then where were her companions? Traveling alone in such circumstances seemed risky, even for a hero.

My head spun as I tried to puzzle it out.

I also kept trying, unsuccessfully, to purge the memory of our last reunion in the royal capital. The moment I was tossed back into this world by the Goddess, and there she was in that borderline scandalous outfit. A high-level fantasy bikini that left nothing to the imagination. Meanwhile, I was standing there in that ridiculous white armor, which was something between a sentai cosplay and a budget sci-fi suit.

Nope. Not thinking about that. That entire memory is banned.

Thanks to all that mental noise, I ended up guiding her mostly in silence. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it was definitely quiet.

Senpai didn’t say much either. Whether she was lost in her own thoughts or just reading the mood, she followed behind me wordlessly.

※※※

“There’s a rumor,” Hibiki began, settling gracefully onto the sofa, “that the Kuzunoha Company has some extremely skilled dwarves on staff.”

She threw a glance at the bundle she’d placed carefully on the low table in front of her.

“So, you came here for maintenance?” I asked, eyeing the cloth-wrapped sword. “If that’s the case, Senpai, I should warn you, our craftsmen are good, but even for them, finishing something like that by the end of today might be impossible.”

We were seated in Kuzunoha’s reception room. By now, she’d explained what brought her to Rotsgard on such short notice.

She briefly mentioned a skirmish that took place in Limia’s capital, but thankfully, she hadn’t come because of Shiki, or by tracing the name Larva back to us.

Thank god.

Given her route between Limia and the Lorel Federation, stopping in at Rotsgard wasn’t entirely out of the question, but I hadn’t expected her reason to be this. Apparently, she’d come all this way to seek out our smiths. Either Limia had done some pretty thorough homework on us, or maybe this was her way of approaching us about some kind of official cooperation.

Then again, Hibiki had always possessed a magnetic aura that naturally drew people in.

That hadn’t changed one bit.

She was exactly as I remembered her: distant, dazzling, untouchable—the kind of person you could only admire from afar.

“I don’t expect the job to be done in a day,” she said. “I’ll be passing back through here in about a week. As long as it’s finished by then, that’ll be fine. If Beren-san were here, this would be much faster. Is he available?”

Wait. Beren? Why’s his name coming up now?

“Beren? He’s working at our other location, in Tsige,” I explained carefully. “You know him?”

“He made that sword for me. It’s changed a bit since then, but yes, it’s his work.”

Beren made a weapon for Senpai?

I was floored. When the hell did that happen?

She must’ve met him when she was staying in Tsige. She was there for about a month, if I remembered right.

Of all the shops in that city, she’d ended up at ours. I was grateful, of course, but if she and her party had been training in the Wasteland too, it was amazing we hadn’t bumped into each other.

Is that good luck, or terrible luck?

What really caught me off guard was that Beren hadn’t just handed her something pre-made; he’d personally crafted a blade for her. And clearly, he remembered her well enough for her to assume name recognition.

Back then, I must’ve brushed off some crucial details. Time to correct that.

“Would you wait for me just a moment?” I asked, standing. “I’ll call in the craftsman we have on-site today.”

Since Beren made the weapon, there was no problem with us handling it. I’d show it to him in the Demiplane tonight. He’d probably be able to get it back into shape within a week, no issue.

“Did you call for me, Young Master?” came a deep, polite voice from the door.

Hibiki chuckled softly as the elder dwarf craftsman entered the room. Ever since we arrived at the shop and the staff gave me a rousing “Welcome back, Young Master!”, she had been in awe of the formal way the staff treated me.

Every time someone addressed me with “Young Master,” she’d giggle, or her face would break into a tiny smile.

I took the sword from her hands and passed it to the elder dwarf.

She really is as beautiful as ever, I found myself thinking again.

Even in a world filled with beautiful people, Hibiki stood out effortlessly.

If Gritonia’s hero is on par with her, he’s probably a real looker too. Ugh. Kinda looking forward to meeting him, kinda dreading it.

I cleared my throat and addressed the dwarf with my best professional demeanor.

“This sword needs maintenance. I’d like your assessment.”

It was important to maintain appearances as the head of the company, especially in front of outsiders.

I’d been advised, more than once, against getting too friendly with employees. Especially with demi-human staff, even if only for show, it was better to keep clear boundaries.

Since that advice came from both Rembrandt and Zara, I figured there was some truth to it. I’d been doing my best to follow it, but…

Not gonna lie, it still feels weird.

“Of course. I will examine it immediately,” the craftsman replied, giving a small bow.

“Thanks.”

As he began unwrapping the sword, Hibiki rose to her feet and bowed deeply, more formally than she had to me.

Okay, that was way more respectful. But I get it. She’s Japanese, after all. Respecting the artisan—that’s in our culture.

The dwarf ran a practiced eye over the blade, inspecting every inch with delicate precision.

“There is some damage,” he said, his tone calm but focused. “And signs it’s been used under extreme conditions. I take it this weapon has seen quite a few battles.”

“Yes,” Senpai confirmed with a nod. “It’s saved my life more than once.”

His hands moved carefully, gauging the balance and examining the edge. Watching closely, I sent him a quick mental message.

“That’s one of Beren’s. Since we can show it to him in the Demiplane tonight, can I leave it with you?”

“Beren-dono’s work?” the elder dwarf replied. “Hah. I’m ashamed I didn’t recognize it right away. I still have much to learn.”

“Thanks, I’m counting on you.”

“Don’t worry.”

The dwarf gave me a slight bow, then turned to face Hibiki again. “You said your name was Otonashi-sama?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “What do you think? Can it be restored well enough to wield again?”

“There will be no issue,” he said with a calm certainty. “Upon closer inspection, I recognize this as the work of one of our own. If you give me three days, I can perform a job worthy of the blade.”

“Really?!” Hibiki’s expression lit up with relief and gratitude. “Then, could I ask you to take care of it?”

“That decision,” the dwarf answered carefully, “is not mine to make. I can assess the work, yes, but I cannot accept the commission on behalf of the company.”

He cast a sidelong glance in my direction.

Oh, come on. Not now. We don’t need the dramatic pause.

“No need to be so formal. Of course, we’ll take the job,” I said, smiling. “It’s Senpai’s request, after all. And, well, we’re fellow Japanese people from another world.”

“Thank you, Misumi-kun,” she said.

“Not at all. You’re dismissed. Just make sure it’s treated with the utmost care.”

“Leave it to me. Otonashi-sama, I’ll take great care in restoring your weapon.”

The dwarf gave a deep bow, then quietly exited the room with the sword.

I watched him go, then let out a breath and sank back into the sofa.

“You really were forcing yourself into that role, huh?” Senpai said with a small laugh, relaxing into her seat as well.

“I had a mentor who told me it was important for the head of a company to know how to act the part,” I explained. “Especially in front of others. But, yeah. You could tell, huh?”

“Of course. You were never the type who could keep that kind of distance. Even back in the club.”

Come on, I wasn’t exactly the standout type in our school.

“Wow, you remember that?”

“Big-picture-wise, you were just a regular guy, sure. But in the kyudo club?” She grinned. “You stood out plenty. Anyone who managed to survive in that club and make it all the way to vice-captain, of course, I’d take notice.”

Then her lips twitched into a bigger, more mischievous smile. “Come to think of it, weren’t some people calling you a ‘hero’ back in middle school and high school?”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Just because I wasn’t some pretty boy, what’s wrong with staying in the kyudo club because I actually liked archery?”

It still stung a little.

Somehow, despite definitely not being one of the beautiful people, I’d lasted over a year in a club infamous for being a gathering place of the absurdly good-looking. That earned me a nickname I’d have gladly thrown off a cliff if I could have.

Naturally, we had more than our fair share of first-years joining purely to get close to those eye-candy senpai. As a result, everyone went through a serious initiation.

They called it “training,” but it was more like a purge.

Sure enough, once the novelty wore off, the ones who weren’t actually into archery, pretty faces included, tended to drop like flies. By fall, the remaining members were sorted, and training would ease up, at least a little. We were still one of the top teams in the prefecture, so “easing up” was relative.

Still, by some weird miracle, the club held on to its population of beautiful people. But for a regular guy like me to stick around past the one-year mark? That was enough to earn the title of “hero.”

And not in the flattering sense.

It had been a while since I thought about club life or high school at all.

Senpai simply gave a quiet laugh and dipped her head in apology.

“You’re right, that was uncalled for. My bad. Honestly, I’d like to hear about your reason for being here. What’s happened to you since then?”

“But?” I pressed.

There are a lot of things I can’t exactly share.

Hibiki glanced to the side, and when she spoke again, her tone had softened.

“I don’t know. I just got hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s not like I can talk about this stuff with just anyone, you know? So, how about we take a break from all the serious talk and chat about Japan for a bit? It’ll be old memories by now, but what do you think, Misumi-kun?”

“E-Eh?!”

Was this really okay?

From my perspective, this was a hundred times better than getting grilled about how I got here. So in that sense, I was very grateful.

Still, this was Hibiki Otonashi we were talking about.

Even here, her reputation came with glowing praise—strong, wise, capable, noble.

She’s not the kind of person who brings up old school memories just to reminisce.

“You know,” Senpai began, “this was a little before I got summoned to this world, but do you remember that time when both the club captain and that first-year girl, you know, the one everyone was saying was super cute, suddenly got really moody?”

Ugh.

Oh, I remembered. I remembered very well.

Out of everything, she had to pick one of the few topics I absolutely cannot talk about?!

“As the vice-captain, you must’ve known something about it, right?” she asked. “I mean, I get that maybe you couldn’t say anything back then, but we’re here now. In another world. Feels like that makes it physically past the statute of limitations, right?”

Physically what?! That’s not how statutes work!

“W-Well…” I stalled, breaking eye contact.

“I’m clearing my schedule, by the way, today’s done. Honestly, aside from the sword, everything I planned for Rotsgard was personal, anyway. That’s why I split from the others. Now that it’s all taken care of, I thought it’d be nice for us to reminisce a little. Nothing wrong with remembering Japan now and then, right?”

There it is, still as beautiful as ever.

That smile carried the same unspoken weight it had back then. The same quiet pressure that came from knowing, deep down, that she was the one with the social gravity in any room.

I felt myself nod, powerless to resist.

There’s something about the senpai-kohai relationship, especially when you’ve been in a sports club. It’s like it imprints that dynamic on your soul.

That said, if we were talking about Japan—no Goddess, no Larva, none of that—then there was nothing to be on edge about.

As long as I stayed alert around the more sensitive topics, there was no reason I couldn’t just relax and enjoy the company of someone from my world. Someone who remembered the same streets, the same smells, the same seasons.

As it turned out, Hibiki wasn’t just a good talker; she was an even better listener.

Our conversation flowed more smoothly than I’d anticipated, full of laughter and old memories. One story led to another, and before we knew it, we’d been chatting in the reception room for hours, letting nostalgia carry us away.

Chapter 2

A pleasant scent drifted in the air.

At some point during our conversation, Senpai had moved to sit beside me. A subtle fragrance emanated from her hair. It was gentle, clean, and oddly comforting.

We talked about Japan, about the Wasteland, about Tsige. No matter the topic, Hibiki listened with sincere interest, always nodding along with a smile. In return, she shared bits and pieces about her own party.

She spoke fondly of a male knight in her group, how dependable he’d become, though he still made the occasional reckless move.

There was a young girl acting as a shrine maiden, someone still so small and yet already shouldering heavy responsibilities. Senpai admired her deeply.

Then she laughed as she described a married mage in their team, a man who, despite his power, had clearly learned that some people are destined to live under their spouse’s thumb. A commonality, no matter the world.

Surrounded by such colorful companions, it seemed like things were going well for her in Limia. No surprise there.

She did, however, share a few frustrations, gripes about the elitist undercurrent in her country’s political scene. The ancient conviction that nobles stood above others, just because of their birth.

Apparently, she was working with a group of like-minded individuals to slowly reform things from within.

So, she’s even involved in politics now.

That stunned me. Being summoned as a hero had made her a major figure from the start, but even so, taking part in reform efforts?

Hearing all this made me curious about the other hero, the one from Gritonia. Was he also deeply involved in shaping his nation’s future?

I’d hoped Hibiki might tell me more about him, but she kept things vague. Said I’d understand best once I met him in person. “You’re both guys, after all,” she’d added with a little shrug.

Still, there had been a moment, just a flicker, when her expression changed.

It was when we touched on Gritonia’s hero and his charm magic.

Senpai’s face shifted subtly. Like she was surprised, and then somehow accepting. A strange mix.

The moment passed as quickly as a breath, her smile returned, and she changed the subject with expert finesse. I didn’t think too hard about it at the time.

Maybe she hadn’t known?

Or maybe she hadn’t noticed the difference, since their powers didn’t quite feel the same?

Senpai’s presence had always radiated something more like charisma. Natural, magnetic. Not some magical compulsion, just her.

Oh, right.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t asked how Senpai and Beren first met; the guy hardly came up, as our conversation about Tsige had mostly focused on Rembrandt. It might be interesting to hear the story from her perspective.

“Hey, Hibiki-senpai,” I began, “when you came to Tsige, how did you meet our Beren, anyway? I mean, how’d you two end up getting to know…”

Bang!

The door burst open, slamming against the wall like a clap of thunder.

I uttered the most undignified sound imaginable. Something like “Aeuh?”

Standing in the doorway was Mio, tray in hand.

Why is Mio bringing drinks herself? That sort of errand was something she usually left to someone else.

Peeking out from behind her, smiling as if watching a pleasant play unfold, was Tomoe, my other follower and a former Greater Dragon. She looked utterly amused. But Mio… Mio looked furious. Her eyes were flat, deadly calm in a very bad way.

She’s mad. She’s definitely mad.

Lately, she’d mellowed a bit when she saw me talking to other women. I’d dared to hope we were past this stage.

Was this another relapse?

I spoke first, if only to avoid any awkwardness on Senpai’s end.

“Hey, both of you. We have a guest,” I said. “What’s with the dramatic entrance?”

“My apologies, Young Master,” Tomoe replied cheerfully, still wearing her usual amused smile. “I told her we should at least wait until thigh-to-thigh contact. But it seems she couldn’t even tolerate shoulder-to-shoulder contact.”

Thigh?

Shoulder?

Wait, what?!

I snapped my head toward Hibiki.

She was sitting way closer than I remembered.

We’d started out with a comfortable distance between us, but now, our shoulders were touching.

Seriously?!

I’d been so focused on the conversation, I hadn’t even noticed how close she’d gotten.

This is bad. I didn’t even notice something that obvious. That’s kind of a social faux pas, if not something worse.

Immediately, I shifted a full body width away.

Mio’s reaction had already been intense, and if she’d walked in on that, even by accident.

We weren’t in that kind of relationship. There was nothing romantic in the conversation. But even so, from the outside…

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I got too into the conversation and didn’t really notice. Senpai, sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

There was no reply.

Hibiki wasn’t looking at me; she was staring straight at Mio.

What’s going on?

Mio stared right back for several long, taut seconds. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but edged with steel.

“Hibiki. It’s been a while.”

What?!

Mio knows Hibiki-senpai?!

No. No way. There’s no connection between them. How could there be?

“It has,” Senpai said calmly. “When I found out that the Raidou everyone was talking about was really Misumi-kun, I thought for a moment that it must’ve been a mistake. But then I heard someone call him ‘Young Master,’ and I realized.”

She turned to give me a wry smile, then looked back at Mio.

“So that was you, after all. I should’ve known.”

“I don’t need to ask what you’re doing here anymore,” Mio said coldly. “But I didn’t expect you to be the kind of girl who’d repay kindness with betrayal. Tell me, Hibiki, since you paid back that life debt with that dish, do I get to pick which arm I take? Left or right?”

Her arms?!

“Mio! This was my mistake, okay?! Calm down!” I said hastily, raising both hands in front of me. “She’s my senpai, from our home country! That’s all! We just got caught up in reminiscing; that’s it!!!”

Why would you say something so violent out loud?!

This wasn’t Mio’s usual jealous huffing. Her anger was sharp this time, dangerous. And clearly, she and Senpai knew each other somehow. But how?

Wait, what was that about a food debt?

Cooking.

Now that I thought about it, didn’t Mio mention learning a vaguely Japanese recipe from an adventurer in Tsige? Something about a nostalgic dish?

Senpai never brought it up at all.

Hmm?

“Now, now, Mio probably doesn’t really mean… What the?!” Tomoe began, trying to defuse the tension, only to trail off in surprise as Mio silently shoved the tray into her hands.

The contrast between their energies couldn’t have been starker; Tomoe calm and joking, Mio radiating silent fury.

“If you won’t answer, then I’ll just rip off both arms.”

She made her way forward, one deliberate step at a time.

“Mio, stop!”

I didn’t even need to move, I was already standing between the two of them. I spun around to face her fully.

Seriously, why does it always have to become a bloodbath?!

I live more modestly than half the guys in this world. Can I please not be crucified for one casual chat?!

“Young Master.”

At last, Mio came to a halt. But I wasn’t letting my guard down. We were all still in the same room; Senpai was well within her attack range.

Quietly, I expanded a concealed mana body around Hibiki, just in case I needed to shield her at a moment’s notice.

Behind me, I heard her stand up as well.

As I turned ever so slightly to gauge her reaction, I caught the soft orange glow of the setting sun pouring in through the windows.

We’ve been talking for a long time, haven’t we? It was just past noon when we got here.

“I don’t have any intentions of trying to take him from you, Mio-san,” Senpai said, her voice low but steady. “I am a hero, after all. I don’t have time to date, not right now.”

Exactly!

Flirting while juggling war and diplomacy? Who even has the bandwidth for that?!

If Hibiki and I were in the same party, maybe I could understand the suspicion. But me and Senpai? That’d be long-distance from day one.

Not that she’d ever see me that way to begin with.

“I don’t care if you’re a hero,” Mio said flatly. “That means nothing to me. And you say you’re not interested in him? That’s not the impression I got. You were giving off a very flirtatious scent.”

Excuse me, what?!

She’d just brushed off Hibiki’s “I’m a hero” line like it was trivial.

Also, flirtatious scent? What is she, a wild animal tracking pheromones?!

“It was just nice seeing a familiar face,” Hibiki replied, maintaining her composure. “I came here to get the sword you gave me looked at. I didn’t expect to run into him.”

“Exactly!” I chimed in, trying to steer the crashing ship back on course. “It was all a coincidence! She happened to know Beren and showed up at the shop, completely by chance, and then happened to run into me! That’s all! Total coincidence! You got that?!”

I was doing my best to keep things light, but Mio’s reply landed like a ton of ice.

“And then you spent more than three hours alone together?”

“U-Uh. W-We just got caught up in the conversation, that’s all.”

“Funny. Young Master can’t stay awake through a three-hour meeting, and yet somehow, this was so exciting and engaging he lost track of time?”

Oof. Low blow.

Okay, yes, I may have nodded off once or twice during exceptionally long meetings, but only when I was juggling too much at once!

Mio was being ruthless today.

I’m sorry, okay?! I’ll be more careful!

Emotional damage incoming. This guilt is going to stay with me for days.

“I really am sorry,” I said, bowing my head. “The time got away from me. That’s all this was, just a senpai and a kouhai catching up. It’s been so long since I had a normal conversation with someone from back home. I’m not saying it excuses anything. I just… Mio, I’m sorry.”

“I feel the same,” Senpai said, lowering her gaze with sincerity. “We did attend the same school, but we barely knew each other. I held a bit of status back then and let it get to my head. I wasn’t thinking about how this would make Mio-san feel. I’m truly sorry,” she added with a bow of her own.

Huh?

Senpai’s apologizing?

I didn’t fully understand the dynamic between them, but somehow, it felt like Senpai was the one on the back foot here.

Could it be that they really did meet in Tsige? Was Senpai one of the adventurers Mio used to babysit in the Wasteland?

I’m not going to get anything out of this unless I ask later. No way to piece it together now.

Especially since my Telepathy was being blocked, Mio had put up a wall.

Fantastic.

This is going to be one of those long damage-control nights, isn’t it?

Just thinking about it made my stomach tighten.

Mio simply stood there, her expression unreadable.

“Come on now,” Tomoe said, poking Mio lightly on the shoulder. “You’re his follower. You’ve got Young Master bowing his head like that, and even the hero. Let it go already.”

Thank you, Tomoe.

Even if you’re blocking my mental transmissions too for some reason, at least you’re not sulking. I’ll take that as a win.

“Young Master,” Tomoe added. “Ema is calling for you. Also, there are several dishes that require your approval for tasting. Let’s get back to the estate. Immediately.”

“R-Right. Got it.” I turned to Hibiki and gave a bow. “Senpai, safe travels back to Lorel.”

There was a bit of lingering reluctance as I said goodbye, but the urgency in Tomoe’s “immediately” made it clear: I didn’t have time to dawdle. This was the real deal.

“Of course. Joshua-sama’s been trying to contact you,” Hibiki said. “Would you mind reaching out sometime soon?”

“Ah, sure. Within the next few days.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she said with a gentle nod.

“Young Master!” Mio’s sharp voice rang from down the hallway.

She didn’t even look back as she called to me, but the thorny edge in her tone was unmistakable.

I really should hurry.

“Let’s go,” Mio said as I neared the door, shooting me another impatient look. “Never should’ve given her that sword in the first place…” She trailed off, muttering to herself.

What’s she mumbling now?

Wait, “that sword”? Was Mio involved in that, too?

“Don’t worry about the hero, Young Master,” said Tomoe. “I’ll escort her out.”

“Tomoe? I don’t think Senpai’s someone we need to worry about that much.”

“Oh, I quite agree. But she’s still a guest of Kuzunoha. We should treat her properly. Lime is otherwise occupied, and as luck would have it, I happen to be free.”

“No touching her arms. Right or left.”

“Please don’t lump me in with her,” Tomoe said dryly, casting a glance at Mio. “I’m only planning on talking to her. You have my word, no harm will come to her.”

“All right. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Thanks.”

Tomoe didn’t seem angry, thankfully, but still…

A sudden thought occurred to me.

Wait, is she going to try reading Senpai’s memories?!

She would be the type to carry knowledge I don’t have. It’s totally possible.

Should I stop her?

No. As long as Tomoe doesn’t go poking around the deeper archives of the Demiplane’s records later, it probably won’t be exposed.

Still…

Maybe it was because I’d already had my own memories rifled through so many times, but I’d gotten disturbingly used to the idea. That’s not good. I really needed to reconsider my stance on that whole privacy thing.

With that heavy thought lingering in the back of my mind, I followed Mio out of the room, leaving the reception behind as we headed for the Demiplane.

There was still some time left in the day.

If we wrapped things up quickly, I might be back at the store before dinner. I could handle inventory and closing procedures then.

Tomoe

Oh-ho.

Seems she’s busy trying to piece everything together.

After Young Master went back to the Demiplane with Mio, just like I told him I would, I took a leisurely stroll down the street with Limia’s hero, Hibiki Otonashi.

That girl had been practically glued to Young Master in the reception room. Her expression didn’t show any hidden motives, true, but I still wanted to know precisely what she did manage to gain from that encounter. This curiosity was one of the reasons I chose to accompany her.

Of course, I’ve already peeked into her memories a bit on the sly. Judging from her conversation with Young Master, she managed to gather a fair amount of information about him as “Raidou” of the Kuzunoha Company.

“I’m fine on my own, Tomoe-san,” Hibiki said. “You really don’t have to escort me.”

“You may not know this, Hero-dono,” I replied, “but this city recently suffered severe damage at the hands of creatures known as mutants. It would be unacceptable for a guest of the Young Master to be harmed while under our watch. I hope you understand.”

“I see. Um, Tomoe-san, are you one of Makoto-kun’s subordinates as well?”

“Of course. And, Hero-dono, I imagine Young Master has already explained the matter of his alias, ‘Raidou,’ to you. When addressing him, please stick to either Misumi or Raidou. Using his real name could cause unnecessary confusion.”

“I know. He told me that, too. Still, I’ve heard his company started out in the Wasteland, but I didn’t expect so many demi-humans to be working there.”

Hmm.

I sifted through her recent memories, focusing first on the conversation they’d had.

Young Master really said quite a lot. Although it’s probably more accurate to say he was made to talk.

He managed to obscure his relationship with the Goddess but still ended up sharing quite a bit—about the Wasteland, Tsige, even Rotsgard. At least he’d kept quiet about Shiki and the Demiplane.

He did let slip about being an instructor at the academy and gave her the lowdown on the whole mutant incident.

Hmm? Ilumgand?

Ah, yes, that was the student who triggered that whole mess.

The truth was, not even Young Master knew the full story behind what happened there. Hibiki tried to dig deeper herself, but ultimately gave up.

Frankly, we still didn’t know all the details of how Ilumgand got involved. Once he transformed into a mutant, the students did 80 percent of the work. Mio was the one who finished him off in the end, but that was Mio’s and my secret. As far as Young Master knew, it was the students who defeated him.

Might be worth nudging that subject a little. I feel like if I don’t address it now, it could fester into a problem later.

In any case, it was a relief to know that her visit here wasn’t tied to Young Master and Shiki’s recent rampage in the Limia capital.

For some reason, Hibiki had concluded that the person in the white suit was a hyuman.

I’d have to take a closer look later to figure out why she’d reached that conclusion, but for now, one thing was clear: Since Hibiki believed Young Master to be a human, she assumed the two were entirely different people.

Though that part was still rather suspicious.

After all, Young Master had said just enough for her to guess that his parents were hyuman. If she followed that thread, she might eventually connect the dots.

“Young Master judges people by ability, not race. That’s one reason his company employs so many demi-humans,” I said, glancing at Hibiki sidelong. “Since you two originally come from the same place, could it be that you think the same way, deep down?”

“I did, at first,” Hibiki replied quietly. “But since I’ve learned about the customs and traditions here in this world, I realized my way of thinking is in the minority. Now I understand that the relationship between hyumans and demi-humans is deeply rooted in conflict, fundamentally tied to war. But right now, the war that’s already started needs resolving first. I don’t condone the way hyumans treat demi-humans, but I don’t outright reject it either.”

“So, a silent endorsement.”

A safe answer. Cautious, indeed.

She and Young Master might have both lived in Japan, but it seemed their views diverged quite a bit.

“My old sense of morality still gets in the way,” Hibiki admitted, folding her arms. “To people like us, demi-humans are just people with animal ears and tails, different physical traits from us. But to the hyumans here, demi-humans are servants, at best, and to be blunt, they’re usually seen more as livestock. Most hyumans don’t consider them people at all.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s about the size of it.”

“Even the most sympathetic hyumans rarely go so far as to advocate for demi-human rights. And recently I’ve realized, someone like Misumi-kun, who openly accepts demi-humans and respects them, is viewed as, well, an eccentric pet lover. As a hero, there’s basically no way I could act like he does.”

“A calculating stance from someone known for her charisma.”

“You’re right. I am calculating, people say I’m cunning and pragmatic,” she said with a frankness that carried no shame. “I need to reform the Limian nobility’s obsession with bloodlines and suppress Gritonia through diplomacy. Only then can I begin trying to improve conditions for demi-humans. But of course, all that depends on winning the war first.”

“Quite the ambitious hero we’ve got here. Doesn’t match your image at all. Still, I can’t say I dislike it. Makes sense now, why so many in this city are fervent supporters of yours.”

Well then, time to begin.

“Supporters? Of me? That’s surprising,” Hibiki said, blinking in confusion. “To think there were people like that out here in the academy city, so far from the capital. I’m flattered.”

“Oh yes.” I nodded enthusiastically. “One such supporter is not with us anymore, but he was a student at the academy. The second son of House Hopleys, from your own Limia, his name was Ilumgand. Bit of a troublesome personality, but he held you in the highest esteem, Hero-dono.”

Her expression changed.

“Though,” I continued, “he grew increasingly unstable in the days leading up to the academy festival. In the end, during the group competition, he transformed into a monster and had to be slain by his fellow students. If I recall, even His Majesty, the king of your nation, saw it happen.”

Hooh, so Hibiki did know Ilumgand.

Hmph. Back then, the boy had stars in his eyes, preaching his ideals like a purehearted fool. I suppose they met as part of her efforts to rekindle the nobility’s sense of duty to the kingdom.

The Ilumgand I’d glimpsed briefly had already lost his mind, but in Hibiki’s memories, he was the very image of a fine young man. He was bright-eyed, ambitious, and driven by ideals. He threw himself into his studies, determined to graduate and lend strength to the hero he so deeply admired.

There was no lie in those words he’d spoken, face flushed with admiration.

Apparently, he’d endured a long slump before meeting Hibiki, suffering in silence, unsure of his future. But their encounter had cleared away his doubts, helping him find a path worth walking. If you’d seen that transformation firsthand, only to later hear he’d gone mad, turned into a monster, and been killed, of course, it would linger in your heart.

“So it’s true?” Hibiki asked at last. “Ilum-kun—Ilumgand, did all those things? Lost control, became a monster, had to be… killed?”

“It’s true,” I said solemnly. “Young Master witnessed it himself. Whatever the cause may have been, it was his own actions that led to it. A lot of people were saying his behavior leading up to the incident was erratic; many of the students, even some of the staff at Kuzunoha…”

“Even the Kuzunoha people?”

“Indeed. For some reason, it seemed like he had a personal grudge against Young Master. Went out of his way to antagonize him, applying pressure through the Guild, interfering with local merchants tied to Limia, and even causing trouble for his students during the academy festival. The ones caught in the crossfire were truly unfortunate.”

A deep, unsettled confusion clouded Hibiki’s face.

“He was someone who understood me,” she said quietly. “One of the few nobles who genuinely cared about the people. That’s why his death was mourned so deeply in the Hopleys domain. It’s hard to believe he’d do any of that.”

“People’s reputations shift depending on where you’re standing,” I replied. “What we saw of Ilumgand was, pardon my bluntness, Hero-dono, nothing but a rotten, debased noble. It’s difficult to imagine him any other way. But, if what you say is true, then his death really is a sorrowful one.”

“I just can’t bring myself to believe he actually became like that.”

“Both the academy and the Kingdom of Limia are investigating the matter. The truth will come out eventually.”

“I know there’s something behind it. There has to be.”

No proof. Just instinct. But the certainty in her voice, it’s real.

Intuition, perhaps? Anyway, she’s not wrong. Though whether she’ll ever learn about the demons’ involvement is another matter entirely.

Fufufu, I found something good.

This girl, she’s studied both kendo and kenjutsu?

Excellent.

She might offer me a chance to observe genuine swordsmanship, something beyond the ritualized kata of sport fencing. Something real.

As that thought took hold, I couldn’t suppress the grin that pulled at my lips.

“Hero-dono,” I said with sudden enthusiasm, “you’re planning on using the academy’s teleportation circle, yes?”

“Huh? Y-Yes, that’s right,” Hibiki replied, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “I came here alone, after all.”

Don’t worry, girl. You’re not the only one surprised.

After all, how could you and Young Master have both studied under the same sword master, and yet neither of you realize it?

Even more shocking, I’d now seen more of that instructor’s swordsmanship through her memories than through Young Master’s.

Fortune truly smiles upon me today.

“Since you entrusted your sword to us,” I began, wondering if Hibiki caught the glint of interest in my eye, “may I assume you’re trained in its use, Hero-dono?”

“Yes,” Hibiki confirmed. “I don’t have my weapon with me at the moment, but I left a spare at the academy. I find bastard swords the easiest to handle.”

Hmph. No interest in those hulking slabs of metal.

“If you’re originally from the same nation as Young Master, might you know how to wield a katana?”

“A katana?” Hibiki murmured the word as her gaze dropped to the weapon at my waist.

Ah. She noticed.

Don’t even think about turning me down now. I did shield you from Mio earlier, if only verbally.

“I trained in Japanese swordsmanship back home,” she said after a pause. “Now that you mention it, Tomoe-san, you kind of remind me of a samurai. Do you have samurai or katanas in this world, too?”

“No, no. This is all my personal fancy,” I admitted. “Ever since Young Master introduced me to them, I’ve been completely enthralled.”

“A hobby? I see,” she said, cocking her head, probably unsure what to make of that.

“That’s why I must ask. Would you please let me have a match?!”

“Eh? Me? But if you’re as strong as Mio-san, then I…”

“This isn’t about strength,” I cut in. “A match as swordswomen. That’s all, and I’ll provide the katana. The academy has more than enough space, and it won’t take long!”

Japanese swordsmanship.

Even if I can examine the forms from her memories, nothing compares to seeing it in motion. Live and in person.

“But I was hoping to meet up with the others as soon as possible.”

Her tone wavered, confusion plainly written across her face, but I just slung a friendly arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the academy.

“Then I’ll escort you to them right after our bout! It’s settled! Let’s go, Hero-dono!”

Hmph!

And what’s this she’s thinking now: “She’s just like Mio-san. Must be because they’re colleagues.”

How rude!

I’ll have you know, unlike that gluttonous spider, my whims come with at least a modicum of consideration! I always ensure my selfishness has something in it for the other party!

※※※

“Huh? Onee-chan? What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night.”

Chiya, a young shrine maiden of Lorel, blinked up at Hibiki with wide, curious eyes. Caught off guard, Hibiki could only offer a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, that was the plan. But I guess I caught up faster than expected.”

“Everything go okay in Rotsgard?”

“It is.” Hibiki gave a nod. “Originally, I was going to rejoin the group just before we crossed into Lorel, but this works out. Maybe now I’ll even get to enjoy the scenery along the Golden Road a little.”

“I’m glad you’re here! Traveling with you always makes me happy!”

“Me too. Ah, sorry, Chiya-chan. It’s been a long day. I’m going to turn in early tonight.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. Good night!”

Seeing the paleness of Hibiki’s face, Chiya simply assumed she was tired and let her go without further questions.

Her unplanned return meant Hibiki had to secure an extra room for herself, and it wasn’t with the rest of the party. She stepped inside, let the door shut softly behind her, and collapsed onto the bed.

A deep sigh escaped her lips.

My head’s a mess.

I finished all the work in Rotsgard—the academy, the Merchant Guild, coordinating the reconstruction—but the final stop just drained me; the Kuzunoha Company.

Who would’ve thought there was another Japanese person besides the one from Gritonia?

And worse, it’s someone I actually know.

Given how things went, I might be able to make something of it. I mean, if I lean into the whole senpai-kohai dynamic we had back in Japan, I think I could open some useful doors with Misumi-kun himself.

But with Raidou, that’s going to be a pain.

He happens to be the face of a mysterious and immensely powerful company. Even His Majesty and Joshua-sama are interested in recruiting him as an ally.

Who wouldn’t be, once they’d seen his strength?

Hibiki’s thoughts raced as she tried to consolidate what she already knew about Kuzunoha with what she’d learned during her conversation with Raidou, Makoto.

He didn’t outright say it, but I think I get why he’s using a false name. He doesn’t want the Goddess to find him. He didn’t show even a shred of respect when he spoke of her. And while we were summoned into the castle, he was tossed out to the Edge of the World.

He said it so casually, but if that’s true, then she basically handed him a death sentence. That’s like indirect attempted murder.

Those two must have a terrible relationship, probably hostile. So now the question is, should we really be bringing someone like that into our inner circle?

As for the company itself, there’s no denying the quality. The equipment and Mio-san are both exceptional. But still…

What should I do?

He’s not as unpredictable as Tomoki, but if I think ahead to what the world after the war might look like, then someone like Misumi-kun—his presence could reshape everything.

Her brow furrowed as she worked through the possibilities.

When the hyuman-demon war eventually came to an end, any figure who might destabilize Limia’s position would be, at best, unwelcome.

To Hibiki, who believed the Goddess’s world order should continue even after the war, Makoto Misumi was undeniably a powerful asset. Yet at the same time, he felt like the seed of a future catastrophe.

There’s no doubt Tomoki plans to unify the world once the demons are defeated. He doesn’t even try to hide his ambition. If that were a bluff, I’d almost be impressed, but it’s not.

If I asked for Misumi-kun’s help, and it turned out he was hostile to the Goddess, which, let’s be honest, seems likely, then in any future conflict between, say, us and Gritonia, simply having him around could give them a perfect excuse to declare war.

We can’t let that happen, absolutely not.

The war with the demons is still uncertain, but I can’t afford to focus only on what’s right in front of me.

The safest play might be to treat Kuzunoha strictly as a merchant partner for now. We’ll gradually ask them for assistance, without making it look like it’s coming directly from Limia or me. That way, we won’t expose our hand.

Hibiki had seen the Kuzunoha Company's strength firsthand.

Speaking purely from a strategic standpoint, the ideal scenario would be for Kuzunoha to drive the demon race to the brink of annihilation, then collapse.

Even better, if they clashed with the demon generals and Gritonia, and crushed both, then disappeared, the rest would be simple. With the proper groundwork, all the glory could be reframed as Limia’s own achievement.

It might seem cruel, especially toward a fellow Japanese person like Misumi, but Hibiki pushed the sentiment aside.

He was still an enigma. Neither clearly hyuman nor demon. In their conversation, that sense of eerie neutrality never left her.

So she forced herself to think like a hero, objective and unsentimental.

It’s not enough that I know him. That we went to the same school. That I recognize his face. My decisions carry too much weight for that kind of personal bias.

Besides, she thought grimly, we still don’t know anything about Larva or the white one.

My gut tells me that white figure, the one who wiped out Stella, must’ve been one of the demon generals. I was hoping coming to the academy would lead me to some clues, but there’s no way I’d find something in just a day.

Still, something about Lorel feels promising. There’s a chance I’ll uncover more there.

As for Misumi-kun, I’ll have another shot on the way back. And Joshua-sama’s planning to summon him to Limia, so I’ll see him again soon at court. I’ll use that opportunity to feel out where he really stands. But for now, I’d better not dig any deeper.

Tomoe-san already warned me not to overstep.

With that thought, her mind drifted back to the reason she was able to reunite with her party ahead of schedule.

The blue-haired woman.

Hibiki couldn’t shake her confusion about Tomoe.

She’s probably around the same level as Mio in terms of raw power, and yet, I couldn’t get a clear read on her at all. She knows the basics of handling a katana, sure, but it’s like she has almost no real experience in actual duels. Her movement was clumsy and kind of amateur. And yet, her stance was solid. Really solid. Wait…

That’s it. It felt like a stage performance, like she was doing choreographed swordplay. Like something out of a samurai drama. How does someone end up with that kind of swordsmanship?

I don’t think Misumi-kun had any proper training in kenjutsu or kendo back in Japan. Could you really develop that level of foundation just by hearing stories secondhand? That company really is full of secrets.

After Tomoe practically begged her, Hibiki had agreed to a short sparring session in the academy training grounds, just over an hour. Both of them used real katanas, but restricted their magic to only enhancement and healing, making it, in practice, a pure test of sword technique.

Out of the ten matches, Hibiki won nine.

Tomoe managed to land the first hit, catching her off guard with a wild, raw-power strike, but after that, Hibiki quickly adapted and took the rest. Her long years of training in both kendo and kenjutsu easily overwhelmed Tomoe’s unpolished style.

To Hibiki, Tomoe was nothing more than a physically gifted amateur in terms of swordsmanship.

But…

She healed instantly.

Even when I landed a clean hit, deep enough that I thought I might’ve killed her, she stood back up like it was nothing.

Tomoe had claimed she’d “preloaded” the healing spell beforehand, but even so, the magic was so smooth, so flawless, that Hibiki found herself captivated.

It had been beautiful.

The sheer precision of it, the timing, the control. It was one of the most advanced healing spells Hibiki had ever seen. She’d immediately added it to her list of techniques to master.

Tomoe hadn’t hesitated to explain the spell’s workings either, openly sharing the structure and logic behind it. In return, Hibiki offered to teach Tomoe some of the fundamentals behind iaijutsu, the Japanese art of drawing and cutting in a single motion.

She’s got insane physical abilities, no question. But as a swordswoman? She’s not that impressive. I’m almost certain she’s meant to fight using magic. That would explain why she didn’t seem the least bit upset about losing so many times. It just didn’t matter to her.

No, what she cared about was something else entirely.

Her mind wandered, back to Tomoe, to Mio, to Misumi. Then, to Larva, the mysterious man she might learn more about in Lorel. To the state of the royal capital’s reconstruction. To Gritonia’s shifting position. And finally, to the war with the demons.

Even though her body cried out for rest, Hibiki passed the night sleepless, lost in the whirlpool of problems and possibilities that refused to let her go.

※※※

Apparently, “We can’t make progress because it’s winter” was just an excuse.

Seriously?

I mean, that sounded like a perfectly valid reason to me. It was the agricultural off-season, after all. If anything, winter seemed like the best time to catch up on paperwork and side jobs.

But there she was—Ema, the highland orcs’ super-administrator—unusually irritated as she brought me the report. When I asked what had her so annoyed, it turned out the farmland expansion in Kaleneon hadn’t met projected targets, and that apparently did not sit well with her.

Kaleneon was way up north, tucked deep into inland mountain country. Anyone with common sense would tell you that trying to expand farmland in winter up there was asking for trouble. The snowfall alone had entirely buried the soil, putting the brown earth out of sight until spring.

Farmland? Now? Really?

Ema, however, had a different view: “That’s what magic is for.”

Sigh.

I noticed it during the Rotsgard reconstruction too, but using magic for everything just didn’t seem realistic. Sure, in rare cases or under special circumstances, maybe. And yeah, some of the demi-humans doing temporary work in Kaleneon could probably use it to get around winter limitations.

We’d even been quietly relocating adventurers, both hyumans and demi-humans who met certain criteria, to Kaleneon, with Luto’s help. But even then, most of them were expecting to focus on indoor work and crafting during the winter months.

Before making any drastic decisions, I figured I’d check in with the Aensland sisters in Kaleneon. If Ema was saying one thing and they were saying something else, I would need to figure out how to balance the two perspectives.

But first, a more pressing issue.

“Tomoe. Explain. What’s with your shredded clothes?”

Tomoe had ostensibly just gone to escort Senpai back, but she’d returned looking like she’d just walked out of a battlefield.

Yet, for some reason, she wore a deeply satisfied expression.

“Ah! I was hoping you’d ask!” She beamed. “I had the great honor of watching Hero Hibiki demonstrate authentic Japanese swordsmanship! We even had a light sparring session, you see. These are honorable experiences, Young Master!”

“The hell is so honorable about a sparring match that was just you indulging your sword fetish?”

“Let’s not get bogged down in the small details, Young Master!” Tomoe declared. “It was amazing! Truly! The way the blade whooshed through the air, then snapped back in a blink! I believe the secret lies in the movement of the wrists and hips! I was in awe!”

“You’re lucky it was just your clothes that got cut.”

“Oh, no, I bled quite a few times!” she replied. “But I had healing magic preloaded, so it was never a problem. Sadly, I can’t repair clothing, so…”

She touched the jagged tears in her kimono with delight, as if they were cherished battle scars.

She used real swords. She actually had a real blade-to-blade fight with Senpai.

“You absolute… Weren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t harm her?!”

“Of course! I barely used any magic, and with swords alone, someone like me could never land a solid blow on her.”

“That doesn’t make it better! And you getting sliced up isn’t something to shrug off just because you can heal! Did you honestly think I’d enjoy seeing you come home bleeding and slashed to ribbons?!”

Of course, I don’t think it’s funny.

It’s terrifying, okay?! You matter to me!

“I see. That was careless of me,” Tomoe muttered, her posture wilting. She actually looked remorseful now, head bowed like a student getting scolded.

“Good. Now, what about Senpai? What did she want?”

“Right. From what I gathered, she mainly came to arrange for the academy’s cooperation in rebuilding the royal capital and to secure aid from certain merchant groups she’s partnered with. Also, she mentioned the mutant incident and her interest in the boy who confronted you at the time, Ilmga…”

A sharp voice interrupted her. “Tomoe-san!”

I turned just in time to see Mio storm into the room.

“That outfit! You told me to stay calm, and then you went off and disciplined Hibiki! That’s not fair at all!”

Dangling from Mio’s hand was a bright red octopus.

Not on a tray. Not on a plate. Just straight up in her hand.

Boiled, maybe? A new recipe? I couldn’t really tell. Whatever it was, the whole thing looked bold.

And yet, octopus, huh? That’s actually a solid pick. Tons of cooking potential.

“This was just from falling over! Hibiki had nothing to do with it!!!” Tomoe shouted.

“Oh? And where, exactly, does one fall to end up with a kimono sliced to ribbons?” Mio snapped. “If you’re going to lie, at least come up with a better one! I held back from having a little chat with Hibiki myself, but if you’re going to pull this kind of thing, Tomoe-san, then I’ll do as I please too!”

Hey, hey, hey! Can we not throw around dangerous declarations like that?!

Also, your “little chat” with Hibiki would be anything but innocent, and we both know it!

“Too bad for you,” Tomoe said with a shrug. “Hibiki’s no longer in Rotsgard. I personally saw her off and returned her safely to her party.”

“Young Master!” Mio whined. “Tomoe-san is being mean! Look what she did!”

“Yeah, yeah, I already gave her a proper lecture,” I said with a sigh. “By the way, that octopus looks pretty good. You boiled it?”

“Hm? Ah, yes,” she said after a startled pause. “I’m still adjusting the salting, but it turned out quite well, so I thought Young Master should be the first to try it.”

Just like that, her whole mood flipped; she was explaining texture and preparation methods with a glint in her eye.

“Young Master, you truly have a masterful grasp of how to handle Mio,” Tomoe remarked. “Quite dependable.”

“You go get changed,” I told her flatly. “And yeah, I’ve noticed you and Shiki’ve been bringing back a lot of seafood lately. Let’s eat together, all right? We can talk more after.”

Lately, the two of them had been making regular trips to the coastal towns, picking up all kinds of new maritime ingredients. I even helped in the kitchen from time to time.

Mio was dead set on expanding her seafood repertoire, while Shiki was apparently working with Ironclad on some kind of winter hot pot seafood project.

Today, Shiki had holed himself up in the Demiplane’s kitchen, laser-focused on crab hot pot. He was deep in trial-and-error mode, testing combinations of soup bases and vegetables to pair with the crab.

Apparently, Ironclad supplied him with several different types of broth, and Shiki was eagerly blending them, more like an alchemist than a cook, but I was actually kind of excited to see how it turned out.

“Ah, so Shiki’s doing hot pot today,” Tomoe mused. “We can expect better results from him than we can from Mio. All she does is boil things. I’m quite looking forward to it.”

Bad move.

Mio’s eyebrow twitched.

“All she does is boil things?”

Here we go.

With a sigh, I stepped in before she could unsheathe something sharp. I picked up one of the octopus legs Mio had brought and sliced off a clean piece.

“Tomoe.”

“Hm? Mmph?!”

I pried her mouth open and stuffed the octopus slice right in.

“Well? Still think it’s just boiled?”

“Thith ith…” She swallowed. “This is delicious,” she admitted. “Hmph. Indeed.”

“And?”

“Mio, my apologies. I spoke carelessly. This is very good. I was wrong to say you just boil things.” Tomoe bowed her head, not a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

Mio nodded graciously.

“As long as you understand. I’ve prepared a few other dishes too, so I hope you’re saving room.”

More octopus, huh? All right, let’s go.

“Hey, Mio. What kind of dishes did you make?” I asked.

“Well…”

I listened carefully as she started listing off the recipes she had in mind.

Yeah, none of those are within my skill range. Also, tako-jaga? Like nikujaga but with octopus? Never even heard of that.

Well then, let’s pad the menu a bit. There’s still time before the meal.

“In that case, I’ll make something too,” I announced.

“Oh!” Tomoe cried, clapping her hands. “It’s been a while!”

“I can’t wait,” Mio added. “What will you be making?”

“One hot pot and one grilled dish: tako-shabu and takoyaki!”

Shiki should enjoy the hot pot too. I’ve never shown him shabu-shabu before, so it’d be something fresh.

Mio was always curious about new dishes, and Tomoe got excited every time I cooked.

Besides, this was personal.

I remembered all too well the time I had that takoyaki griddle custom-forged by a dwarf. I was all set until I realized I didn’t have any octopus.

Not a single piece. Couldn’t find any in the markets anywhere. I just about cried.

In the end, I stuffed bits of chicken in the batter and made toriyaki instead. I still remember the crushing sense of defeat. I didn’t let anyone see it, I just sat alone and ate every last one by myself.

It was a bitter memory.

But not today.

Today, I finally had everything I needed.

It was time to settle the score.

Let’s head to the kitchen.

Chapter 3

“Welcome to the Lorel Federation. We’re honored to receive you, Hero Hibiki-sama.”

A woman in ceremonial robes bowed with practiced grace, her smile radiating warmth.

At least mostly. Hibiki sensed the faintest chill prickling at the edges of the woman’s composed face. It lasted only a heartbeat, vanishing completely by the time she continued speaking.

Hibiki returned the greeting, deciding to set that twinge of discomfort aside for now. She already understood that being a hero didn’t guarantee unconditional acceptance wherever she went.

“Welcome home, Chiya-sama,” the woman went on. “Everyone has been eagerly awaiting the return of our shrine maiden.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Sai,” Chiya apologized. “I can only stay a little while, but I wanted to come back with my sister. You see, Sai, Hibiki-oneechan is…”

“Chiya-sama, please. Let’s save that story for later. You must be weary from such a long journey. First, allow us to escort you and your companions to your chambers.”

Greeting the Limian party was Sairitsu, one of the most important names in the Lorel Federation.

Here, the role of the shrine maiden was well known and beloved by the people. As the Chugu, Sairitsu wielded considerable power. It followed naturally that she be entrusted with the duty of welcoming and hosting foreign dignitaries.

To the otherworlder Makoto Misumi, she might have seemed merely a pillar of state, but within Lorel, her influence reached much further. Whether in domestic governance or foreign policy, there was no sphere she could not touch if she so wished.

After issuing instructions with a flick of her eyes and dispatching aides to lead the guests and confirm the next steps in the schedule, Sairitsu watched as the figures of the shrine maiden, the hero, and their companions receded into the distance.

“Sairitsu-sama? Is something the matter?” asked one of her subordinates.

“I was just thinking,” Sairitsu replied thoughtfully. “After all our persistent demands that Limia return the shrine maiden to us, here she is at last.”

“It’s thanks to your tireless diplomacy, Sairitsu-sama, that such a result has been achieved. A truly splendid accomplishment.”

“If only it were truly that simple,” Sairitsu murmured.

“Now that Chiya-sama is back, you don’t need to trouble yourself so much, Sairitsu-sama. Just like Limia once held her to themselves, we too should now ensure the shrine maiden remains here in…”

“Enough.” Sairitsu’s voice cut through the air, her gaze suddenly steel. “Mark this well: To repay what was done to us in kind, without regard for time or circumstance, is to invite disaster. At the very least, it cannot be done now. Had Chiya-sama been forced onto the battlefield against her will, I could press the matter in any number of ways. But that is not the case.”

Her subordinate flinched under the weight of that gaze. “F-Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

“I do not condemn you for harboring ill feelings toward Limia. After all that has happened, such sentiment is only natural. However, the shrine maiden does, beyond doubt, lend her true support to the hero. She is back with us for a short time, by her own choice alone. What troubles me is something else entirely.”

The fact that our dragoons were granted an extended stay in Rotsgard to aid in reconstruction, and in return, Raidou hinted at Chiya-sama being there too. “You may see the shrine maiden soon.” That was how he put it. We don’t think of ourselves as equal to Limia; we’re not that arrogant, but Lorel’s still counted among the Four Great Nations. Even with every diplomatic effort exhausted, we couldn’t accomplish what Raidou achieved so easily.

I would very much like Chiya-sama to judge the Kuzunoha—no, Raidou himself with her own eyes. Maybe on our way back, we should arrange a stop in Rotsgard. Given how readily she put her trust in Hibiki and recognized her as a sage, she might also glean something of worth from Raidou. Haa, if only I could dismiss his words as nothing but empty pleasantry, how much lighter my heart would be.

“Sairitsu-sama?” asked another subordinate.

“It’s nothing.” Sairitsu shook her head. “We will be quite busy from here on. I’ll be relying on you.”

“Of course! For Chiya-sama’s sake, I shall give my all!”

“Good. Let us proceed, then.”

As she walked, Sairitsu’s mind returned once more to the figure she’d met in Rotsgard not long before. A man who had spoken of assisting the dragoons’ recovery and, almost carelessly, offered a phrase that lingered like a hook in her thoughts.

No merchant company should possess the power to move heroes, shrine maidens, and great nations alike. That’s just common sense, right?

And yet, Chiya had returned, bringing the hero with her. Even if she wouldn’t be staying, this was still a momentous occasion. That alone should have commanded Sairitsu’s entire focus.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking of the name Kuzunoha Company, nor the quiet, unsettling presence of Raidou.

※※※

There “I” was.

“So you really weren’t hyuman after all.”

“Monster.”

“Coming from the guy with a hole in his gut, that’s rich.”

“I can’t, I won’t let you meet Hibiki-sama. Here and now, I’ll stop you!”

“I” stood before a man clad in black armor. He was on one knee, clutching his stomach, where, just as “I” had said, a massive wound gaped open.

Judging by his words, it must have been “me” who put that hole there.

Was this guy a friend of Senpai’s?

“Black Knight, huh. A fitting name, I suppose. Loyalty worthy of a knight.”

The Black Knight.

I didn’t know him. But “I” did.

It was the strangest sensation, as if I were watching from two places at once. One version of me was acting onstage, and the other was seated in the audience.

The so-called Black Knight’s helmet had been smashed to pieces, revealing a face far from hyuman. Not even demi-human, really. More like something that had failed halfway in becoming a person—a wrinkled, featureless mask that barely deserved the word “face.”

“Raidou! I will stop you here, no matter what it takes!”

The Black Knight raised a colossal sword, built less for slashing than for crushing, and brought it down with all his strength.

“I” caught it with one bare hand.

No magical construct, no reinforcement—just flesh and bone. Not a drop of blood spilled.

No way. That was impossible. The swing was fast enough to kill anyone.

“Tell me, do you know what a microwave is?”

“Micro wave?” The Black Knight faltered, his ruined features twisting in confusion.

“Ahaha, never mind. Forget it. Anyway, at least tell me your name, would you? The Black Knight can’t be what they actually call you.”

“My” voice was utterly casual, not a trace of tension in it.

Two of me. One acting, one observing.

The strangeness of it pressed down, and suddenly I realized: I hadn’t even looked around the battlefield.

It was chaos—noise roaring, flames and smoke rising in scattered bursts, rubble strewn across the ground. Where exactly was I? That I couldn’t tell.

“You want to know my name? Hah, ku-ku-ku-ku! Don’t you recognize me? You’ve seen countless like this—this twisted, wretched form!” The Black Knight was spitting out the words with disgust. “You slaughtered every last one of them!”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. So, what, you’ve got a grudge against me?”

“Academy city! Rotsgard! The academy festival! You dare say you’ve forgotten, Raidou?!”

“Oh, a mutant. Yeah, the resemblance makes sense. So you’re one of the survivors, huh? But you know, the people who transformed back then? Most of that was their own damn fault. Pinning the blame on me is a little unfair, don’t you think?”

“I-I am…”

“Hm? What?”

“I am Ilumgand Hopleys!”

Ilumgand?!

Wait, but didn’t Abelia kill him during the festival?

“Ilumgand, huh? Honestly, the whole mutant incident feels like ages ago. I don’t remember individual names. But Ilumgand Hopleys. Got it.”

The “me” standing there facing Ilumgand was utterly unmoved by the declaration. No recognition, no emotion.

That’s strange. Why doesn’t it feel right?

“How far will you go in mocking people?!” Ilumgand shouted.

“Surprisingly tough for someone with a hole in his stomach, but it doesn’t look like that wound of yours is closing anytime soon. Guess this is the end of the line. Don’t worry, I’ll finish this properly. Senpai’s party only has that shrine maiden left now. Even for someone as clumsy as me, it’s finally checkmate.”

“Checkmate”? “Senpai’s party”?

What is going on here?

But the “me” in that place didn’t bother with questions. He simply thrust his left hand toward the Black Knight.

“Who would stand still when death is announced?!”

Ilumgand kicked off the ground, trying to dodge the aimed palm. But it was as though he’d slammed into an invisible wall. His body recoiled, stumbling in place.

Realm?

My Realm didn’t spread outward from “me.” Instead, it enclosed Ilumgand entirely, wrapping around him like a prison.

Wait, that’s not fair! If the Realm can be centered on someone else, then it isn’t just a shield, it’s a brutal weapon!

“Back to what I was saying. A microwave. It’s a tool for heating food.”

“Why, why does someone like you wield such power?! You hold no conviction, no purpose!”

Ilumgand’s voice quaked with rage, but “I” just kept speaking in that same out-of-place, casual tone as though this weren’t a battlefield at all.

“At first, I thought it just made the inside of the box hot, you know? But that wasn’t it. Turns out it uses waves, vibrating the molecules inside to generate heat. Pretty impressive technology, actually.”

Ah. Yes, I have heard that before. It’s water molecules, right? A mundane household appliance, yet remarkable in its own way. Even if only vaguely, I remembered being impressed when I’d seen it explained on TV. But in another world, explaining it to an enemy in the middle of combat? What the hell is this “me” thinking?

As I pondered this, “I” voiced something chilling: “So, what do you think would happen if you used it on a person?”

“What nonsense are you… You mean, to burn someone alive?”

“Exactly. Or maybe more like boil them from the inside. That’s what you’d expect, right? But that’s not it. Maybe because I’ve forced the concept into something like magic, the result is different. There’s no need to dispose of a corpse.”

Magic. He’d described his Realm that way.

Wait. Hold on. Putting a person in a microwave? That’s monstrous! Who would even think of that?!

I’d never imagined it. Couldn’t even picture what would happen. But… “no need to dispose of a corpse”?

Ilumgand’s warped, featureless face twisted in fury. “Remember this. You will be judged. Hibiki-sama, the Goddess herself will punish you. This world will never accept you!”

“That sounds great. Saves me the trouble if they come to me. Anyway, bye-bye.”

“Ilum-kun!!!” A woman’s voice, crying his name.

As if the sound had triggered it, something impossible happened.

“Ah, Senpai.”

“I” spoke her name as casually as if I’d seen her walking home from school.

But before her eyes…

The body of a man swelled grotesquely, then burst. Armor and flesh ballooned in an instant, exploding like an overinflated balloon.

The Realm encasing Ilumgand, that invisible hemisphere, was now painted red-black with his blood.

Ugh.

A microwave?

No. No way.

What did “I” do? I’d never imagined a person could die like that.

The red hemisphere vanished at once, leaving only a few dark stains soaking into the ground. It didn’t look like a place where someone had just died. No corpse. Not even scraps of flesh.

“Misumi-kun, you!”

“How could you do that to Ilum-san?!”

Hibiki and the shrine maiden, who had arrived with impeccable timing just to witness that scene, turned on “me,” their eyes gleaming with pure hatred.

It’s normal to react strongly if someone you know is killed right in front of you. But Ilumgand, the Black Knight, was their friend? Ally?

The way that hatred fixed on “me” was as if finding its natural target. There was no shock, no confusion—only fury, as if a long-formed judgment had simply reached its final verdict.

Wait. No. Don’t tell me.

When “I” tilted my head down, a smile ghosted over “my” lips. Panic seized me.

You’re kidding. Why would ‘I’ smile now?!

Tomoe, Mio, Shiki, what are you doing?!

With no emotion in “my” eyes, only the faintest curl at the corner of “my” mouth, “I” lifted “my” face and leveled “my” left hand at Hibiki and the shrine maiden.

Stop.

Don’t.

“You’re late. After Senpai, it’s the Goddess, so I’ll wrap this up quickly. It shouldn’t hurt.”

Stop!

“I completely misjudged you,” Hibiki said, voice flat. “Realizing it now, when it’s far too late, that’s what’s truly pathetic.”

“Well, that’s life,” “I” replied lightly. “Ah, Senpai.”

There wasn’t a shred of killing intent—just the tone of small talk. And yet I knew what “I” was about to do.

Don’t you dare. Not Senpai. Not by my hand!

“The way a microwave works is…”

“Stop!!!”

It took a few seconds before I recognized the ragged, gasping, tearing through the air as my own breathing.

When I touched my forehead, my fingers came away slick with cold sweat.

I forced myself to pause my rapid breathing, drawing in a deep lungful of air, then slowly, slowly exhaling until my chest felt hollow.

“A dream?”

I was back in the Demiplane, in my own room. No battlefield. No Senpai.

“It was a dream, right?”

The memory clung to me; disjointed, absurd, and yet unnervingly vivid.

Ilumgand was supposed to be dead. The “Black Knight” had never appeared around Limia’s hero, nor near the Hopleys family. If Senpai had a knightly protector, I remembered someone else in her party, one of the kingdom’s official knights.

I couldn’t just roll over and sleep again. The dream had burned itself too sharply into me.

Damn it. We had such a good dinner too. Takoyaki, tako-shabu… Everyone loved it.

Shiki, especially, he’d clasped his hands reverently, half-drunk, muttering, “Truly, the depths of a hot pot are beyond mortal comprehension.” It had been hilarious.

“Ha.”

The memory tugged a small laugh out of me, lightening the heaviness in my chest. In the end, it was only a dream. Worrying wouldn’t change anything.

Right.

“Well, it’s late, but maybe some archery will settle me down.”

I rose, got dressed, and retrieved my bow.

Leaving my room, I walked toward the archery hall I’d had built on the estate grounds.

There, beneath the slow paling of the sky, I loosed arrow after arrow, my mind steady and free of thought, until the sun began to rise.

Chapter 4

The weight pressed firmly into my palms, firm and undeniable.

“It’s heavy,” I muttered.

Across the table, the silver-haired youth leaned forward with a pout. “Is that all you have to say?”

I shifted in my chair, glancing around the private room of the Rotsgard Adventurer’s Guild.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say? That it’s smaller than I expected?”

“You do realize that the number of hyumans who’ve laid eyes on one of those can be counted on one hand? That’s the egg of a Greater Dragon. Scholars of draconic lore would kill their own parents for the chance to study it.”

I studied the rugby-ball-sized egg again, rolling it back and forth in my hands. “Now that you mention it…”

“Do you not feel the mystique of it?”

“Honestly? I feel like if I show it to Mio, she’ll want a taste test. Better keep it hidden before she gets ideas.”

The man in front of me, an androgynous beauty with silver hair and an aura that felt just slightly off, was Fals, the master of the Adventurer’s Guild.

At least, that was the name he wore for public convenience. In truth, he was Luto the Myriad Colors, the supreme pinnacle of the Greater Dragons. A legendary being who treated running the Adventurer’s Guild as a hobby, who swapped genders as casually as others changed clothes, who wore his centuries of practice in deception like a second skin.

He was also a person I very much preferred to keep at arm’s length.

Right now, though, even Luto’s famously unshakable poker face was cracking. His lips twitched, caught between exasperation and a smile of disbelief.

“Well,” I said, “putting that aside, my job is just to deliver this to Gront-san in the White Desert, inside imperial territory, right?”

“Yes. If possible, I’d like you to see the society of dragons for yourself. Let’s begin with this one, Lancer. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I’ll make sure the reward is more than sufficient. That includes assistance regarding Kaleneon.”

So that was the real reason behind this request.

It all started with the rampage of Sofia Bulga, the adventurer once branded as the Dragon Slayer. Luto had offhandedly introduced her as “one who carries my blood,” but beyond that, he hadn’t offered many details. Only three Greater Dragons were currently alive. The rest had been reduced to eggs, entrusted to vassals and devotees scattered across the world, awaiting the day they would hatch once more. He told me where to find them, and that was about it.

Supposedly, he would explain the rest “when the time came.” Whether that time would ever arrive was another question entirely.

My role was simple: deliver this egg to one of them.

As for the reward, it wasn’t some tangible artifact as I’d expected. Instead, it was the promise of knowledge known only to him, as well as aid directed toward Kaleneon, a nation situated within demon territory. Considering the rarity of a Greater Dragon’s egg, the offer was outrageous for what amounted to a courier’s errand.

“Then I’ll be counting on that reward,” I said. “Either way, I was planning to head toward Gritonia, so I can do it along the way.”

“Fufufu… Princess Lily of Gritonia, hm?” Luto lifted his silver brows, mischief in his voice. “I doubt the invitation came from her alone. The hero’s will is behind it as well. They’re not people you should trust easily, Makoto-kun, but neither will they devour you the moment you arrive. Keep your guard up, but treat it like a modest sightseeing trip to Gritonia. Ahhh, if only I could go with you.”

“Sightseeing in Gritonia. Right, since I’ll also be heading to Limia afterward, I can’t exactly think of it as a vacation. Still, I’ll try to enjoy it.”

After Senpai asked me to contact Prince Joshua, I did it immediately.

He, or should I say “she”? Ugh, that’s a headache I don’t want to deal with.

Joshua asked that all correspondence go through official channels. And so, in the process of speaking with Limia’s bureaucrats, it was decided: I would be heading to Limia in the near future.

On the other side, Princess Lily of the Gritonia Empire had also been sending inquiries one after another, and it was becoming impossible to avoid a trip to Gritonia. She hadn’t threatened me, hadn’t forced me, but still, there was this unpleasant sense of being unable to refuse.

“The Kingdom of Limia, hm? Prince Joshua and Hero Hibiki are there.” Luto chuckled as though all this were someone else’s problem. “You’ve become quite the popular figure.”

“I’m not sure what you find funny about that.”

“Well, it is funny. But if you ever need my help, just say the word. Simply being relied upon by you would make me happy.”

“All right, I’ll ask if I need help.”

“I’ll be waiting. But setting aside Limia and Gritonia, should you ever find yourself traveling further north…”

Further north? That could only mean demon territory.

“What about it?” I asked.

“Stop by the guild first. There’s an egg that needs delivering.”

“Ahh, right, right,” I said with a wave of my hand. I’d nearly forgotten there was also an egg destined for demon lands.

Running errands with a Greater Dragon’s egg in hand, paying visits to powers waging war across the world. From the outside, our group would look incredibly suspicious. Best to keep a low profile.

At least as low as possible.

“Tomoe and Shiki will be accompanying you, yes?” Luto’s tone had taken on a slightly sharper edge. “Be wary of Tomoki, the hero of Gritonia. He’s… quite fixated on Tomoe.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said drily.

“Were it anyone else in your position, I would also caution them about Tomoki’s Valkyries. But in your case, I doubt it’s necessary.”

“Valkyries?” This term was new to me.

“Tomoki’s devotees. Girls completely infatuated with him. But as for my concern, well, even I couldn’t sway you, so the idea of you falling for cheap seduction is laughable.”

“You? Sway me?”

This guy’s a Greater Dragon, and both sexes. Accepting all that with open arms would take a level of experience I don’t want to imagine.

“Why, the secretary waiting outside for me is already quite…”

“Egg received. Right then. Later, you perverted dragon,” I said, standing up before he could say any more.

“I feel like I was just called something terribly rude. But no matter. Until next time, Makoto-kun.”

It was the morning of our departure for Gritonia.

It should have been a serious moment, receiving a commission from a Greater Dragon, but instead, I felt oddly drained.

Gritonia. My first time in that country. What kind of place would it be?

If I were being honest, I found Princess Lily somewhat difficult to deal with. I hoped her country would be more pleasant.

※※※

“Wh–Whoa, that’s some serious snow. The latitude here is similar to Limia’s, isn’t it? So how the hell is it so cold here?”

The words slipped out of me before I could stop them.

Limia, I’d heard, was endowed with ample greenery and fertile fields. The Gritonia Empire, by contrast, was known to be harsh and frigid; that much I’d picked up from books and talking to travelers. But standing here, seeing it for myself, was enough to make me gape.

On a map, the two nations sat neatly side by side, one east and the other west. And yet the difference was like summer and winter.

“Gritonia is a land of tall mountains,” Tomoe said, a white plume of breath escaping her lips as she eyed the jagged peaks looming in the distance. “In some regions, that snowpack will be ten or fifteen feet deep come winter.”

At the head of our little group, Shiki came to a halt and turned back toward us. “Even so, experiencing another nation’s climate firsthand is part of the joy of travel, is it not?”

I let my gaze drift down the Golden Road beneath our feet. Funny. From Tsige, the highway had always looked like the same endless stretch of dirt disappearing into the distance. But here, blanketed in snow, it was like a completely different road.

“I can’t even imagine what the demon country must be like,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s supposed to be even farther north than this and even more mountainous.”

“Hmph.” Tomoe folded her arms. “The land where demons dwell could be called nothing less than an icefield. More snow than here, winds and cold of an entirely different magnitude.”

Shiki nodded. “For hyumans, no, for any living creature, even demons, the climate there is brutal.”

So, they’d both seen it. The demon lands.

Part of me wanted to see it, and part of me wanted to just curl up in a warm room and forget about it.

The snow began to fall not long after we crossed into Imperial territory. Within an hour, it was thick and heavy beneath our boots.

So, all this cold-weather gear isn’t overkill after all, I thought gratefully. Even the oversized earmuffs, the kind that, until the day before, I’d only ever seen on TV specials about the snowier parts of Earth, were proving invaluable.

Our first destination was the city of Robin. From there, we’d be granted access to a teleportation array leading to the imperial capital. That was a relief beyond words; in this weather, slogging through the drifts on foot would be torture.

“If we weren’t sticking to the Golden Road, I’m sure we’d be lost already,” I muttered.

Tomoe gave me a long look. “I’m not sure why this is, but when the word ‘lost’ comes from your lips, Young Master, it inspires no sense of danger at all.”

“I must apologize, but I feel the same,” Shiki added.

To think my own followers would betray me like this.

Not that they were wrong. Going without food for a few days wouldn’t kill me, and while the snow was annoying to walk through, the cold itself didn’t bite too deep. If we lost our bearings, I could always retreat into the Demiplane. The word “lost” really did lose all its tragic weight when applied to me.

“B-But hey, Tomoe!” I said. “You’ve met Gritonia’s hero before, haven’t you? Didn’t you say you weren’t exactly fond of him? Honestly, I could’ve just left things to Shiki or sent Lime in your place.”

“At first, that was my intent,” Tomoe admitted. “But Lime is in Lorel at present. And Hibiki’s memories, though not as vivid as yours, Young Master, were most intriguing. I wondered if Gritonia’s… specimen might prove just as entertaining. Destroying the memory I had copied earlier was perhaps a touch hasty.”

“Hm. Well, Tomoki-kun is Japanese too. So maybe he knows something I don’t. If you don’t want to deal with him directly, just let Shiki. Really, don’t force yourself.”

The moment the words left my mouth, it hit me.

Wait a second, that doesn’t sit right.

“Young Master,” Shiki pointed out with a strained smile. “Forgive my nitpicking, but wasn’t it supposed to be me who told Tomoe-dono to ‘feel free to ask’?”

His tone was bemused, but that wasn’t the part that snagged in my head.

Ah!

“Hold on, Tomoe.”

She tilted her head, looking completely unbothered. “Yes?”

“You just said Lime is in Lorel?! What do you mean?”

Thank god I caught it before it slipped by.

“Mm. Hibiki seemed rather interested in us,” Tomoe replied calmly. “I gave her a proper warning, of course. But just in case, I asked Lime to keep an eye on her. That’s all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Nothing for me to worry about?! What kind of warning are we talking about here?”

“Just something like ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ I told her she’s free to pry as she pleases, but whatever comes of it is her own responsibility. It was less a threat and more a common courtesy, really. After all, it would be troublesome if she poked around while we were busy with Gritonia, Limia, Kaleneon, and the demon lands.”

When I see Senpai again, I’d better apologize. Something like, “Sorry for the scare.”

Still, it struck me: Tomoe was more wary of Hibiki than I’d realized. Not for her own sake but for the sake of Kuzunoha Company. For my sake.

Maybe it’s me who’s too careless with her.

Still, she was Japanese. From the same high school. A good person through and through.

Do I really need to keep my guard up against someone like that?

If I was being honest, though, when we met up, something about her felt off. I couldn’t put it into words, couldn’t pinpoint where, but she wasn’t exactly the Senpai I remembered. And suspicion left a sour taste.

Fine. I’ll think about it when I figure out what it is and why. There’s no rush. My connection with the hero has only just begun, and there’s no need to overreact.

※※※

Gritonia betrayed me.

I’ll admit it: I’d been looking forward to seeing the imperial capital, Ruinas. I had a certain picture in my head, a fantasy-world metropolis in the snow. It was going to be breathtaking, otherworldly.

Maybe a steampunk city of iron and gears, where steam hissed from every crevice, a sprawling fortress of machinery and smoke.

Or perhaps a city sculpted from unmelting ice, its crystalline towers sparkling in the sun, a true frozen jewel.

It wasn’t like either of those.

What stood before me was impressive, yes, but it was just a fortress city. Strong, practical, and incredibly ordinary.

I actually thought that the first large town we passed through, Robin, carried far more of that snow-country charm.

We were halfway up a mountain, inside the teleportation facility, with a sweeping view of the capital. We had one last transfer to reach Ruinas, but the guide who’d accompanied us from Robin insisted we take a moment to admire the sight.

From this vantage, the landscape was painted pure white in every direction, except for the capital itself. Within its walls, not a speck of snow clung to the streets. Like in Rotsgard, it looked almost mundane. They must have woven magic into the city’s design, melting away the snow before it could pile up.

Nothing like I’d expected. Nothing at all, unfortunately.

Ruinas sprawled in a warped circular shape, three layers of walls dividing its districts, from the outer rim to the inner core. At the very center, plain to see even from here, rose a castle. That had to be where the emperor resided.

I’d read that Gritonia ranked its citizens by class. If that was true, then those concentric walls likely mirrored the very structure of their society.

A stratified society, huh?

Of course, even in Rotsgard, hyumans and demi-humans were divided by rank. So I shouldn’t have been surprised that the same divisions existed among hyumans themselves.

Maybe I should see this as a rare opportunity to feel that hierarchy directly.

“How does the imperial capital strike you, Young Master?” Tomoe asked.

“I was expecting, I don’t know. More snow. More ice.” I shook my head.

Tomoe’s lips curved faintly. “As was I. Somehow, the city lacks charm.”

“Yeah. Not what I imagined,” I admitted. “We’ll only be here for two days. Not enough time to explore, so I’m glad we get this view. But for the details, the feel of the streets, I’ll leave that to Shiki.”

Shiki bowed his head. “Of course. I’ll observe in whatever spare time we have. The fact that this city remains snow-free despite its conditions and location is proof of remarkable resources. Still, I must agree with you both, it does lack character.”

“Thanks. As for me, I’ve got a delivery to make.” I glanced at the large cloth sack strapped across my back. Inside was an egg, Lancer, apparently.

My task was to place it in the care of Gront, one of the Greater Dragons. Luto had already spoken with Princess Lily on my behalf to arrange the meeting.

That perverted dragon really was a mystery. For all his quirks, his foresight and consideration in matters like this were undeniably helpful.

“Well. We shouldn’t keep the guide waiting any longer. Ready to go?”

“Yes, Young Master,” Tomoe replied.

“Agreed,” said Shiki.

I nodded and waved to the guide watching us from across the platform.

One more teleportation remained, followed by a handful of security checks inside the capital before we would be ushered into the presence of the princess.

And waiting there would be Gritonia’s hero, Iwahashi Tomoki.

Two years my junior, yet already celebrated for his exploits on the battlefield.

I let my gaze drift across the landscape, and there, not far from the capital, a crater marred the land. Could that be his handiwork?

A cocktail of anticipation and unease welled in my chest.

With Tomoe and Shiki standing calmly at my side, their composure a reassuring weight, I stepped into the teleportation circle.

※※※

“Raidou-sama, I’ll ask you to wait here. These two will accompany us further inside.”

“All right. Tomoe, Shiki, see you later.”

Apparently, it was standard practice for only the representative to greet the princess, so my followers were escorted deeper into the castle, leaving me behind.

Not that this was a negotiation or anything. Even if they were trying to isolate me for political maneuvering, my answer would be the same: “If you want to discuss that, let me bring it back with me.” That was the whole point of bringing Tomoe and Shiki along.

If anyone were going to be separated from the rest of the group, I would’ve thought it would be Tomoe. That they chose me instead was a little surprising.

As I waited for Princess Lily, I let my eyes wander around the room.

As expected of a great empire’s capital, no, the very castle of its emperor, the reception chamber was even more lavish than the ones I’d seen in Zara’s or Rembrandt’s mansions. And that was saying something.

Not gaudy or sparkling but refined. Subdued. The kind of wealth that whispered rather than shouted, where each piece of furniture and each ornament radiated dignity and luxury.

In other words, the kind of place that made me uncomfortable.

I sank into the plush sofa, feeling it swallow me whole, and accepted the tea I’d been served. The cushions were too soft, and my posture refused to settle.

Then, I caught it. The presence of people.

Two of them. And trailing behind there were three more.

That’s a lot of people. Especially considering there were already two guards stationed outside the door and a maid standing silently within the room.

Better to meet them on my feet.

I rose, causing the maid to glance up. But before she could say anything, the door opened, and she retreated to her original position.

Just as I’d sensed, five figures entered the room.

“Thank you for coming, Raidou-dono. In Rotsgard, you were of great help to us. Allow me to once again express my gratitude.”

The first to speak was Princess Lily, the only one of the group that I recognized.

“I’m honored you invited me here, Princess Lily,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady. “To see such prosperity here, in a city thriving even amid this deep snow—it makes me feel, truth be told, that I hardly belong in such a place. Yet seeing someone I met in Rotsgard again like this puts me at ease.”

Halting, perhaps, but I managed a proper greeting, more or less what I’d rehearsed.

“I’m glad you think so highly of our capital,” Lily said with a gracious smile. “I know your stay will be brief, but I hope to ensure you enjoy every moment. Or at least, that was my intention. But seeing you again, I can’t help but want more.”

Her gaze sharpened ever so slightly.

“By the time you return home, I would be delighted if you could say you wished to open a branch of your company here in our empire. I really do hope you’ll consider it.”

Softer than she was in Rotsgard, I thought. Well, she was on her home turf. And yet, the edges of negotiation were clear in her every word. Her mouth smiled; her eyes did not.

Yep, still difficult to deal with.

Beside her, there he was, the hero. That had to be him. Japanese, supposedly. But the man before me had mismatched eyes, heterochromia, I believe it’s called, and hair of natural silver. Altered appearance, maybe? Or does he have a mixed background?

Two years younger than me, yet easily over six feet tall. He would have no problem fitting in among the hyumans of this world, but he had a strikingly handsome figure, just like Hibiki.

This is the Goddess’s taste.

Sensing my attention, Princess Lily turned her smile toward her companion.

“Ah, I mustn’t neglect introductions. Raidou-dono, this is the hero who has given so much for our empire. I present to you Tomoki-sama.”

“So you’re the hero, then,” I said, inclining my head. “An honor to meet you. I’m Raidou, representative of the Kuzunoha Company.”

“Iwahashi Tomoki,” he answered curtly, then fixed me with a sharp, searching stare.

“What?” I asked.

“‘What,’ my ass. You’re Japanese, aren’t you? You don’t have the face of a hyuman from this world, and you’re not a demi-human either. And calling yourself Raidou? That’s such an obvious alias.”

Well. That was one hit, straight to the core.

Sigh, yeah, I’ve got a plain face.

And Raidou? It’s vaguely Japanese, but not the kind of name you’d hear in these parts. Anyone sharp enough would piece it together eventually. But that fast?

I forced a laugh, scratching the back of my head. “Ahaha. Well, circumstances prevent me from saying. Let’s just say I’m doing business under that name for now.”

“What’s your real name?” he pressed, brushing aside my deflection like it didn’t exist. Straightforward, or maybe just blunt to the point of rudeness.

“Tomoki-sama?” Princess Lily’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to him, her voice touched with unease. “What do you mean by that?”

“This guy, calling himself Raidou,” Tomoki answered flatly, jerking a thumb at me. “He’s the same as me, from another world. One look at his face and it’s obvious he’s Japanese. In other words, he’s from my country.”

“What? Then, Tomoki-sama, are you saying he’s another hero?!”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Tomoki shrugged. “I’ve never heard of the Goddess summoning a third one. And anyway, this guy’s using a fake name to run a business. So, what’s your name? Tell me.”

“Misumi Makoto,” I said at last. “I was in my second year of high school when I came here. So, that makes me your senior by two years.”

Tomoki’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you know how old I am?”

“Hibiki-senpai told me. She came to Rotsgard before this, and we caught up.”

What’s with this guy? I told him I’m older, so why is he still talking down to me?

“Senpai?” Tomoki leaned forward. “So you went to the same school as Hibiki. Nakatsuhara High, right?”

Hibiki?! He just called her Hibiki—without honorifics?!

Incredible. Truly incomprehensible. This had to be the first person I’d met whose sheer existence gave me culture shock.

I was dying to call him out on his manners, but with the princess present, and three people who looked like his companions standing silently behind him, it didn’t seem like the best idea.

“Yeah. That’s right,” I said instead.

Tomoki exhaled through his nose. “Hmph. Not very interesting, then.”

Hah?! Not very interesting? What kind of response is that?! Even if that’s what you think, that’s not something you just say out loud!

“Tomoki-sama,” Princess Lily interjected smoothly, “this is only a formal greeting. Perhaps you should introduce your companions and leave the rest of your discussion for later.”

This Tomoki kid, I thought with wonder. Back in school, he was probably the type who thought he stood on equal footing with everyone—teachers, upperclassmen, whoever.

Or maybe it’s me who’s outdated. Clinging to the idea that age alone deserves respect. To me, even one year above meant automatic honorifics. That’s how it was drilled into us at the kyudo club, and I guess it stuck deeper than I realized.

“No, Lily,” Tomoki said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If he’s Japanese, then let me speak to him directly. It’ll be faster that way.”

“But that would be…” Lily’s eyes flicked toward me. “This man is my invited guest, and I have other matters to discuss with him as…”

“Later,” Tomoki cut her off. “He’s got two attendants with him, doesn’t he? Whatever you need, you can pass the message through them.”

Hold on, since when do you get to decide that?! What is this, the Church of Me, Myself, and I?

And Lily’s “other matters”; that would include arranging the teleportation and my audience with Gront, wouldn’t it? That directly involved me!

God, this guy. Should I just give him a lecture right here and now?

“Raidou-dono.”

“Hm!”

Lily’s voice pulled me back. She addressed me as Raidou—careful, deliberate. Not Makoto or Misumi.

“Regarding the matter entrusted to me by Fals-dono,” she said, “may I ask, will it be you personally who handles it? Or one of your two companions? If it is the latter, I can convey the details on your behalf.”

Wait. Really? You’re folding now?

The three young women standing behind the princess, along with the maid, were useless, caught in Tomoki’s Charm, their expressions glazed with that pink haze of infatuation. The only one who seemed untouched had been Princess Lily.

And this Charm of his… It was worse than I’d imagined. Like being trapped in an elevator jammed full of people drenched in overpowering perfume.

“Ah, about that,” I said at last. “I was planning on going myself. So, the explanation should be given to me.”

“Raidou-dono, personally?” Princess Lily tilted her head. “Forgive me, but Gront’s domain is hardly forgiving. Then again, if you truly are from another world, as Tomoki-sama is, then perhaps it is not unthinkable. Very well, we shall leave you two for a time.”

She rose gracefully and signaled to the three women behind her. But Tomoki stopped her. “Lily, just you,” he said. “I want the other girls here.”

“As you wish. I will excuse myself, then. I must also speak with his companions, so I will attend to them.”

“Yeah,” Tomoki said simply.

“Ah, yes,” I murmured awkwardly.

And just like that, the princess slipped out.

Seriously? She really left, didn’t she? Does this guy have that much authority here? Is Gritonia’s hero such an absolute existence?

“Now then.”

Tomoki dropped heavily into the sofa opposite me, sprawling back in a show of ease.

True to his wishes, the maid remained, as did the three other women in their ornate gowns. Their eyes were hazy, their smiles languid, as they stood behind him like living ornaments. Attractive, yes, but the sickly-sweet tang of Charm clung to them, turning the scene grotesque.

“Never thought I’d run into another Japanese guy here,” Tomoki said with a grin. “Have a seat.”

Reluctantly, I lowered myself back into the sofa.

Was this how he spoke to everyone? Or just me?

“All right,” he began. “Let’s talk straight. For now, I’ve only got one demand of you. Just one thing I absolutely want. Mind if I lay it out first?”

“Before that,” I cut in, “I am two years older than you, you know. Don’t you think you should use polite language with your senpai?”

Tomoki blinked at me, then snorted. “Hah? Why would I? You’re just some guy I’ve met for the first time. Being born earlier doesn’t mean jack. Honestly, I think it’s ruder to change your attitude depending on who you’re talking to. You and I just met, so we’re equals. And besides, in the real world, it’s not age that counts, it’s strength or rank, if you want to put it bluntly.”

Strength. Rank. Right. For me, just being born earlier or being a senpai is enough reason to show respect. That’s how it’s always been. Kyudo club, too, senior means senior, end of story.

Hibiki-senpai, if he’s like this, you should’ve told me before.

“I see.”

“Besides, if we’re playing that game, shouldn’t you be showing me respect? I’m the hero. You’re just a merchant. You’re scolding me about honorifics when you’re the one who dropped them with me just because I’m younger. That’s inconsistent, isn’t it? Position matters more than senpai-kohai nonsense.”

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

No wonder Tomoe disliked him. No wonder Hibiki avoided saying much. Whatever he said, it was all twisted for his own convenience. Forget double standards, this was triple, quadruple, whatever number it took.

Sure, between merchant and hero, I’d admit the “hero” should stand higher. But Senpai never once threw her title in people’s faces.

“Anyway,” Tomoki went on, “let’s not get hung up on it. Let’s just talk straight. Now, about what I want from you.”

Wait, what? How did this conversation flip so much that it sounds like I’m the one being impolite? And nobody else is reacting; not the maid, not those three charmed women behind him. Like the air itself bends around him.

“Fine,” I forced out. “Let’s hear it.”

Tomoki grinned. “Give me Tomoe.”

What?

Huh? This idiot. What is he saying?

My mind went white. Everything he’d said before, every smug justification, every back-and-forth—it all evaporated. I needed several heartbeats just to process the sound of the words.

“Ha?”

The single syllable slipped out of me at last, echoing in the heavy silence of the chamber.

Chapter 5

“Of course, I’m not asking for her for free.”

Tomoe. He just said: “Give me Tomoe.”

So that’s what this was. His Charm had always resolved things for him, until now, but his mystic eyes hadn’t worked on Tomoe. And that made him want her all the more. Enough to demand I hand her over.

Like a spoiled brat stomping his feet for a toy.

At his signal, the trio nodded and moved. One slid up to my right, another to my left, the third behind me, framing me in their little triangle.

“They used to be noble daughters of Gritonia,” Tomoki went on casually. “But they had a knack for combat, so I trained them myself.”

Ridiculous as his demand had been, my head stayed cool. I kept my silence, waiting for him to finish.

“All three are over Level 400,” he said. “You can see their faces and bodies for yourself. Plenty there to like, right? In this world, they’ll turn heads anywhere. Hell, in Japan they’d be stunners. Though honestly, compared to Japan, everyone here’s a model, huh? Hahaha.”

He rattled on, describing them like merchandise.

I glanced sideways. Two of the girls flanked me, and both were about my age, one with a refined, graceful air, the other exuding more of a sweet, cute charm.

Behind, the third leaned down over me as I sat, her fingers brushing under my chin. She looked older, her smile languid and practiced.

Had Lily told him my type? Or was this just Tomoki’s personal taste, trotted out as bait? Hard to say.

The girl on my left lifted my hand from my lap and pressed it against her chest—a blunt, unsubtle provocation.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

“I heard Tomoe’s level from Lily,” Tomoki was saying. “Even if you add these three together, they don’t quite match her. So I’ll sweeten the deal. Later, I’ll show you my harem. Take your pick, whoever you like.”

Unbelievable. This idiot. No matter the circumstances, these women here chose to follow him, didn’t they? And yet he’s flaunting them like trinkets, like a collection to barter with. And Tomoe, Tomoe is my family. We have a precious, irreplaceable bond. To treat her like merchandise in some trade? Never.

“What, cat got your tongue? Ohhh, nervous, huh?” Tomoki’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, I get it. I guess you’re inexperienced. That’s fine. These girls are well trained. I broke them in myself. At the start, just leave it to them. They’ll guide you. Like I said, I just have to command them, and they’ll obey. They’ll go wherever I tell them, serve whomever I want. They fight well, too. I’ll hand them over, tell them to devote themselves to you.”

So, these are the Valkyries that Luto mentioned. Or maybe every woman in his harem gets branded with that name. Either way, he’s too practiced. Too comfortable. He treats people like tools. And this boy, who came here in middle school, has the gall to do it without flinching. Has he erased Japan from his memory? Forgotten where he came from?

Here I am still clinging to the past, am I the strange one here?

“Come on, say something!” Tomoki suddenly snapped. “What’s your price? How many women do you want? Or maybe it’s gold. Land. Trade rights. Name it. Why the hell are you just sitting there?”

I drew in a slow, deep breath. My decision was already made.

“I refuse.”

“What?”

I hadn’t whispered, but he still blinked and leaned forward as if he’d misheard.

He’d heard me but pretended otherwise.

Intimidation, that was his aim. But compared to the gale of Zara’s pressure, Tomoki’s posturing was a light breeze. Strange. Zara might have only been the head of the Merchant Guild, not a hero, but his words weighed down my chest.

“I said no.” My voice was stern. “Tomoe isn’t replaceable, not for me, nor for the company. Give it up.”

“You’re seriously saying that?”

“I am. Tomoe is not yours to take, that’s my answer.”

His aura spiked, sharp and aggressive, trying to smother me into silence. I met it head-on, firm as steel.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he growled. “The Goddess barely gave you any strength, didn’t she? You’re nothing special. Tomoe and that other guy with you, they’re strong. But they’re not here. Lily took them somewhere else.”

“So?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea what you can do. You can’t beat me. Do I need to spell it out in force before you get it through your skull? This room’s soundproof. No one will hear a thing.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t have bothered telling you my real name. What’s the point if you can’t even use it properly? Explain this to me, how does someone I’ve just met figure out my abilities? Is bluffing one of a hero’s gifts? All swagger, no substance. You don’t even look like you’ve ever been in a real fight.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he says, huh?

No. He’d used something, some tool to probe me, to measure my strength. It was enough to give him false confidence and fuel his arrogance. Even Hibiki, who’d fought beside me, hadn’t truly grasped what I was capable of. And yet this brat thought he could?

Even if that crater outside really was his handiwork, it meant nothing to me. A scar in the earth was hardly cause for concern.

“Are you an idiot?” he spat. “You don’t understand the situation you’re in, do you?”

In the next instant, cold steel kissed my skin. There was a blade pressed against my throat. Another against my chest, right above my heart. A third hovered near my wrist.

Of course, the blades belonged to the same women who’d been pressed close to me just moments ago.

The blades didn’t draw a drop of blood; my construct stopped them cold. Thin though it was, the weapons didn’t have the power to cut through. There was no danger here.

Nonetheless, Tomoki’s lips twisted into a self-satisfied grin, as if he’d already won.

“Still think you can talk big, Raidou-dono?” He sneered.

Gods, what an infuriating man. More suffocating than most hyumans I’ve met.

“I can see power,” Tomoki continued. “Don’t ask me how; that’s my secret. But I know this much, you can’t beat any one of these three. And yet you keep someone like Tomoe at your side. It’s obvious why.”

“You’ve got a powerful taming ability. You can bind monsters, even dragons, to your will. That’s the only explanation.”

Not even close. Where he dragged that conclusion from, I had no idea. But the urge to correct him didn’t even stir.

If he really did have some ability to gauge strength, he wouldn’t be running his mouth like that. No one that reckless survives long.

Still, there was one thing he’d given me. By ordering blades drawn, he’d made the first hostile move. And that made my life easier.

Fine. We’ll find Gront, hand over the egg, and get out of this wretched place. The sooner, the better. Preferably never to return.

“Well, well,” I said. “To think you’d see through me so cleanly. I suppose a hero is not to be underestimated.”

While I spoke, I layered my own spell work atop the room’s existing wards. Strengthening the soundproofing and hardening the walls and locking the doors.

Done. A sealed room.

Tomoki leaned forward, his grin widening. “Exactly, so if you hand Tomoe over, she’ll have no choice but to serve me. That’s how it works!”

“I see. I see,” I said softly.

I pushed against the sofa, rising to my feet.

“Hey, you!”

A quick cry cut Tomoki off.

One of the woman’s weapons slipped from her trembling grasp and clattered against the table between us, ringing shrill and hollow.

I stood tall, gazing down at Tomoki still sprawled on his seat.

“You thought stacking up a handful of girls like this was enough to equal Tomoe?” My voice was low, steady. “You’ve insulted my follower, cheapened her worth. And I don’t take that lightly.”

“We’re in the heart of Gritonia,” Tomoki shot back, lounging against the backrest, trying to meet my gaze with forced bravado. “Do you even understand what a fight here means? How much it tilts the scales against you?”

“Oh, I understand.”

“What was that?”

“It means someone’s going to have to work very hard to cover this up.”

“Haha, drop the bluff. All you have to do is hand over one subordinate. In exchange, the might of Gritonia shields you. You gain manpower, too. Think about it, merchant. You run a mid-level company, don’t you? You don’t negotiate by losing your cool. Hell, agree to my terms, and you’ll never need to play merchant again. You can live in luxury, while these girls earn for you as adventurers or mercenaries.”

“Unfortunately, I’m a figurehead, more decoration than leader. The title sits heavier on me than it’s worth. But if you’re expecting me to play it cool, you’ve got your calculations wrong. My company’s different. If I don’t knock you down now, Tomoe will be furious later. Not that I’d let this slide anyway.”

The shift in my aura must have reached him; Tomoki’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked his chin to signal the three women.

“You three! Take…”

Too late.

“Sleep.”

I extended a spectral hand of mana, clamping down on the women before they could move. Then I drove sleep straight into their minds. To an onlooker, it would look as though they simply collapsed in response to my word, melting into the carpet.

I even put the maid under who was standing further away. No witnesses.

With the chamber silenced, I kicked the table aside, clearing my path.

In a single surge, I closed the distance, seizing Tomoki’s temple in my palm.

“Ghh!”

His resistance was pitiful, laughably so. For a supposed hero, he struggled like a common street punk pinned against the wall. Maybe he needed conditions to awaken his true strength. But that was his flaw, not mine.

In a fight, you don’t get to demand the perfect setup.

I slammed his head into the carpet. The floor muffled the impact, but the force rattled through his body. Then I swung a leg high and drove my heel into his skull, sending him sprawling.

He crashed against the wall with a satisfying thud.

The room echoed violently with the impact, but outside remained silent. My layered wards held firm.

I advanced slowly. No hurry.

“Nngh!”

I paused. He’d released something from his hand.

Not a spell. A tool. A weapon.

Three knives whistled toward me. Not ordinary steel either, but I didn’t care.

Mana hands rose to meet them.

At impact, each blade flared brilliantly, detonating in loud bursts of light and sound.

So, they were bombs.

And?

I walked forward through the smoke and force as if strolling along a garden path.

Tomoki’s eyes blazed with desperation, and he cast another spell—a spark of light, fast, sharp.

Yet weak.

The blows pattered against my mana armor like raindrops on glass.

If he wanted to shake me, he needed firepower on Sofia’s level at least. This wasn’t even close.

I didn’t bother dodging. I let every strike wash over me, then extended another mana hand. It wrapped around his body and lifted him clean off the ground.

He glared at me, eyes seething with hatred, gnashing his teeth as he faced the inevitable.

Hmph.

So, you treated Tomoe like an object. That means you were prepared for the consequences, right?

I pinned Tomoki against the wall and drove my fists into him repeatedly.

Careful. Measured. Hard enough to hurt. Not enough to kill.

All the while, I felt it, a strange, heated emotion, one I’d perhaps only brushed against before, directed at the Goddess herself. Now, for the first time, it roared at someone else.

I ignored his words and pitiful counterattacks, I thought that would be more effective.

Whenever he tried to speak, I aimed for his face. Before long, his voice broke into silence.

I thought the violence might be cathartic, that pounding punches into him would bring release. But it didn’t. After the first blow, the satisfaction evaporated. What remained was cold, methodical repetition.

The only thought I held on to was this: Make sure he never thinks about Tomoe again.

Eventually, when words no longer left his lips, I dropped him.

“Lucky for you I’m weak,” I said flatly. “That’s why this is all you get.”

He didn’t respond. Just curled up on the floor, arms shielding his head. The image stirred an unwelcome thought.

“What’s wrong, Tomoki? Cat got your tongue?” I leaned closer. “You’re a hero, aren’t you? When you’re beaten, shouldn’t you at least take it with some dignity? Right now, you look like the weak one, and I, the strong. But that’s not right, is it?”

The word “weak” made him flinch, a tremor running through his body.

But digging deeper into that reaction would hold no value.

I grabbed his collar and hauled him upright. My mana hands shrank away, replaced with a gentle, restorative weave of Realm. Wounds closed, bruises faded, blood withdrew beneath skin.

As my concealment slipped, traces of mana light seeped from me into the air, glowing faintly around my body.

Maybe, I thought idly, if he’d seen me like this from the start, he wouldn’t have dared to provoke me at all. He didn’t strike me as the type who picked fights with those he knew were stronger.

Hibiki. Tomoki. For all their titles, neither one truly had the strength for battle.

But for me, if I said it plainly, war was no threat to me. Nor to Kuzunoha. Nor to the Demiplane.

War was nothing but a nuisance to us, an annoyance.

That was why Tomoe and Shiki never scolded me too harshly for indifference.

By then, Tomoki’s injuries had all but vanished. I dragged his taller frame across the carpet and dumped him onto the sofa, forcing him upright in the seat.

I shifted the Realm back to concealment, set the table upright again, restoring the room to its original order.

Then I slapped Tomoki across the cheek. Not hard, just enough to drag him back from his stupor.

“Nngh!”

At last, his eyes regained focus. But the bravado was gone. What remained was a muddle of pride, arrogance, and something new: weakness and fear.

“I healed you properly,” I said with a smirk. “So you should have no trouble fighting the demons.”

I held his gaze, let the smile linger.

“Now, I’ll be going. I’ve got other errands in Gritonia, you see. Nothing compared to the duties of a hero, of course, but I’ll be busy enough.”

As I spoke, I gathered the three women and the maid, arranging them neatly on the sofa where I’d sat before. They slumped there, breathing evenly in enchanted sleep.

Then I turned for the door. My hand brushed the handle as I unraveled the magic locks and let the hardened walls breathe again.

“Oh, one more thing.”

I glanced back at him; his tall frame bent forward on the sofa.

“Don’t ever reach for Tomoe again. No, for anything or anyone at Kuzunoha. Not by accident, not on purpose. Next time, I won’t let it slide. Use your Charm however you like, it’s no concern of mine. But not on us. Not ever. Remember that.”

Yes. That much has to be made plain.

If you put your hand on what’s mine, there will be no forgiveness. Not for you. Not for the princess. Not for anyone.

Because I hadn’t said it clearly sooner, it came to something this ridiculous.

From now on, the lines had to be carved in stone. I had to let the friction come—it was the cost of clarity.

Better that than letting this idiocy repeat.

There was still the unknown matter of the Demiplane’s divine “souvenirs.” Still Luto’s errand. Still Limia. Still the demons.

In the end, what Tomoki had shown me might count as a net gain, a reason to have come to Gritonia, if for nothing else.

Out in the corridor, I told the knight standing guard that my talk was finished and that I wanted to rejoin my companions.

I hope Tomoe and Shiki aren’t causing trouble. No, those two are fine.

I’d expected the knight to fetch someone else. Instead, he offered to guide me himself.

I sighed, flexing my hands open and closed as I followed him down the hall. It wasn’t regret. Just the weight of it.

Violence doesn’t suit me.

Chapter 6

The land stretched out in a sea of white sand.

It was, astonishing. There was no other word for it.

White earth below, blue sky above. My vision was filled with nothing but two colors, painted together into a single vast canvas.

A long sigh escaped my lips.

“Raidou-dono. Have you had your fill?” A woman’s voice came from behind, reminding me—ah, right. I wasn’t here alone. For a moment, the sight had swallowed me whole.

“It’s a beautiful view. Truly, I can only feel wonder standing here.”

“A beautiful view, I see. That does sound like a merchant’s perspective.”

“A merchant’s, hm? What do you mean by that?”

“Forgive me. Perhaps not a merchant’s. Just not the words of a warrior. This desert hides dangerous monsters and lots of them. It’s not simply a place of beauty.”

The White Desert.

From Gritonia’s capital, Ruinas, this was just one transfer by teleportation circle. Only one mountain ridge away, to the east of the city.

And yet, Gritonia kept this place tightly sealed, thoroughly controlled, and virtually untouched by hyuman hands. The woman standing with me had called it a “secret land.” Entry was strictly authorized personnel only.

“The White Desert,” I repeated softly. “I’m glad I got to see it. I suppose I even owe that pervert a word of thanks.”

“If it pleases you, then I’m relieved. Even within Gritonia, few of us ever set foot here. For you to behold it, ordinarily, such a thing would never have been granted. Please understand, then. This was made possible only through the consideration of Lily-sama and Tomoki-sama.”

Luckily, it seemed my “pervert” comment slid by without notice.

Tomoki-sama, eh?

Yesterday, after giving the imperial hero a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget, I regrouped with Tomoe and Shiki and finished the obligatory talks with Princess Lily.

Finally, here we were at the delivery point. The place where Luto’s request would be fulfilled, where the Greater Dragon Gront was said to live. Given that we were already traveling through Gritonia, it was convenient, almost too convenient, really.

As I said, entry into the desert required imperial approval. But that was because Gront kept ties with Gritonia. Luto had assured me he would smooth things over, but I hadn’t realized Lily herself was the hinge.

Thankfully, my little heart-to-heart with Tomoki hadn’t reached her in any clear form. Whether he was too proud to admit it or simply unwilling to explain, the permissions came easily.

Not that everything fell perfectly into place. The White Desert, as it turned out, was considered one of Gritonia’s most important territories. That meant no free wandering. We couldn’t go anywhere unless accompanied by official, Princess-Lily-approved guides.

For one nerve-wracking moment, I thought Tomoki himself might appear as our “escort.” My face must’ve twitched in horror before I found out we’d been assigned to Guinevere, a young member of the Royal Guard, one of the highest knightly classes, and sworn bodyguard to the princess. The “royal” in her title was no figure of speech. She was the real thing, by blood and by blade.

Impressive. Very impressive. This world doesn’t go around handing out knightly classes for nothing; even among academy students, plenty stumble trying to reach them.

Guinevere carried a different burden. She was also a member of Tomoki’s party, steeped in the sickly influence of his Charm.

Lily’s choice, then, was deliberate. My guide doubled as her protector and as one of Tomoki’s enthralled companions. A pair of eyes, a leash dressed in armor. A silent message, wrapped in silk: We’re looking after you, and we’re watching you. Royal Guard, yes. But not merely that. Another qualifier clung to her title.

Royal Guard… of Gront.

The title meant she’d received the blessing of the Greater Dragon himself, elevating her to the pinnacle of knights. Strictly speaking, it was a class recognized by the Adventurer’s Guild, but when a name thundered across the world like that, the difference between class and honorific hardly mattered.

Tomoe had put it bluntly: If she focused solely on defense, Guinevere ranked among the very best in the world. Give her favorable terrain, and she could stop an army of thousands.

That was impressive, especially coming from Tomoe.

Of course, Tomoe had then added, “Still, if I pressed with brute force, it might take me three minutes. A pleasant bit of exercise before supper.” That part I tried to forget. Better to focus on the fact that this young woman had climbed to such heights in her twenties—a feat deserving of genuine respect.

I tended to carry a twisted view of anything tied to the Adventurer’s Guild, thanks to my own peculiar circumstances. That’s something I should work on. Just because my level is frozen at one doesn’t mean I need to sneer at everyone else’s achievements.

What mattered now was this: Guinevere had become Lily’s knight first, then endured Gront’s trial, and earned his blessing. She had walked across this desert alone and reached the dragon’s dwelling.

No matter where I went, Lily believed Guinevere could follow. That was her calculation.

“Greater Dragon Gront,” I murmured. “Her title, the Sand Wave, must come from this place.”

“Raidou-dono,” Guinevere said sharply. “Forgive me, but I must ask that such remarks…”

“Of course, Guinevere-dono. Her Highness and Tomoki-sama as well, I’m deeply grateful to them both.”

“If you understand, then that’s enough. What I said just now was my own thought. I would ask you to keep it between us.”

“I will. You can count on my discretion. But tell me, Guinevere…” I turned to her, scooping a handful of sand into my palm. Incredible texture. One touch and I knew, this would destroy a camera lens in seconds. Too fine. “… you overcame Gront’s trial to meet her. Can you tell me, then, which direction I should go to reach her?”

Her gaze hardened, and she shook her head slightly.

“I wandered for days before a miracle finally came. I was desperate. But there are words passed to all who seek her blessing, words carved at the gate itself. They simply say, ‘Go straight, just keep going.’ That was the path I followed.”

I could imagine that once you stepped forward here, all you would see is white sand in every direction. Landmarks would vanish. It would be easy to lose track of where “straight” even was.

So much for “just keep going.” Simple words, impossible execution.

And I didn’t have days to spare. We were due back tomorrow.

So I’d walk straight a while, shake Guinevere off, then let my boundaries search for a dragon’s presence. That seemed the faster route.

“Straight ahead, then. Thank you,” I said.

“Raidou-dono?” Guinevere’s tone sharpened. “Understand this, the sands ahead hold no promise of safety. Monsters lurk, and…” Her eyes flicked toward the bag slung over my shoulder. “… with so little equipment, entering is nothing short of suicide. If you intend to go further, I’m begging you, let’s go back, prepare properly, and try it another day.”

“I’ll be out of here before the day is out. Can you wait for me at the teleport hut? I really appreciate your guidance.”

I adjusted the cloth sack on my back. The egg inside was heavier for the memory it carried.

That morning, Tomoe and Shiki had scribbled all over the shell. A prank, they said, like a cast covered in signatures.

Really?

Well, as long as the contents were fine, a bit of doodling shouldn’t matter. The egg was Lancer, after all—a long story. Tomoe hadn’t had the chance to strike him down herself, so this was her way of settling something.

A petty defacement, maybe. But born of loyalty to me. And when I thought of it like that, I couldn’t bring myself to object.

“All right, then. Time to go.”

“Wait! Raidou-dono!” Guinevere’s composure cracked. “The White Desert is riddled with Gront’s interference; sand traps, flames, worse! You must not! Return at once!”

I tuned her out. With a thought, my coat shimmered crimson—speed mode.

Acceleration systems engaged.

Okay. Errand time.

Anyway.

“Now then, where are you hiding?”

I bent my knees and launched skyward.

Air whipped past as my body surged forward, the ground shrinking beneath me. Behind, the place I’d pushed off exploded in a cloud of sand, a white plume obscuring everything, including Guinevere.

“H-How?! What kind of legs do you have?!”

Her voice was faint now, swallowed by distance. I guess shaking her off will be easier than I thought.

As I landed, I spread my boundaries outward, probing. The White Desert stretched endlessly.

“Whoa.”

Without warning, the ground collapsed under me. My legs sank as sand rushed downward, funneling toward the center of a giant pit.

Classic.

An antlion’s nest? Or maybe a hidden-crypt-under-the-dunes situation? I was still weighing tropes when two massive horns, pincers, really, burst from the sides, snapping toward me.

“Guess it’s the antlion after all.”

Blades like guillotine jaws lunged at me.

“Raidou-dono!” Guinevere’s shout carried across the desert, ragged with panic. “That’s a nest! The monster drags prey under the sand; there’s no escaping! Wha-whaaaat?!”

Apologies, Guinevere. Your concern is noted.

“Up we go!”

I caught the pincers in both hands, heaved sideways, and lifted the creature bodily from the pit. Its hindquarters writhed, thrashing in the air. It was ugly, grotesque.

“Sorry. Wrong prey. Try again somewhere else.”

With a grunt, I flung the thing across the dunes, sending it tumbling far from my path and well out of Guinevere’s line of sight.

Next time, I’d just jump clear before it surfaced.

Again, I leaped. Bound, land, leap again, scanning with my boundaries as I went.

It didn’t take long. After less than twenty minutes of searching, a presence swelled against my senses, impossible to mistake.

“There you are.”

Straight ahead, exactly where the instructions promised. The dragon hadn’t lied.

The desert rose against me; splitting dunes, white sand-tornadoes, rivers of flame that burned ghostly pale. Traps upon traps.

I tore through them all. Mana armor and crimson coat turned speed into a battering ram, scattering the obstacles like mist.

Guinevere’s presence faded away somewhere behind me.

And then, at last, I saw it, the mark my senses had chased.

“A cone?”

From a distance, it looked like an enormous white cone rising from the desert. As I got closer, however, I realized it wasn’t solid. The whole thing spun, a cyclone of sand whirling at impossible speed.

Guinevere crossed this in her trial? Impressive. Even after wandering lost, she’d made it through alive.

“Well, my stomach’s starting to complain. Best get this egg delivered.”

I approached the whirling sand, wind shrieking, grains of white tearing the air like razors.

“Fast doesn’t begin to cover it,” I mused aloud. “Not just a reversed tornado, more like a meat grinder. White, no end in sight. Step in unprotected and you’re paste.”

I sighed, flexed my shoulders.

“Excuse me.”

Mana arms braced, tearing into the spiral, rending both the sand and the magic that bound it together. With sheer force, I pushed my way inside.

Gront

“What-what is this?”

I was experiencing something utterly foreign. Not once in the countless millennia of my existence had I ever felt this way.

Here, in the endless White Desert, they call me Sazanami, the Sand Wave, or the Dragon of Trial. But my true name is Gront, and I belong to the ranks of the Greater Dragons. Earth and fire dwell within me, yet it has been ages since I last needed to wield that power against an enemy.

Instead, I have spent long centuries watching over the world’s natural order, lending my strength to the spirits, and bestowing blessings upon the rare mortals who manage to cross this desert.

Strictly speaking, that duty should belong to Luto, our elder. But he chose to walk among hyumans, founding their Adventurer’s Guild and weaving himself into their society. What was supposed to be a temporary position had become my calling.

None of that mattered now.

Someone had crossed the sands with terrifying speed.

Two figures passed through the gate: the knight I had once blessed and another beside her. But even with the knight’s guidance, for them to arrive here in less than an hour was incomprehensible.

The other person slipped past the desert’s beasts with ease, and, astonishingly, without killing a single one. Even my traps failed to slow this newcomer down. They blundered into every last one, yes, but simply tore through as though they were nothing. Rare enough to fall into so many, but rarer still to emerge unscathed.

Their pace never faltered. That meant they hadn’t even been hurt.

Two mortals in the same generation receiving my blessing was miracle enough, but even that was overshadowed by this feat.

Until today, the record for the shortest crossing was three days. Seventy-two hours. I always knew records were meant to be broken, but this? Less than an hour?

From the gate to my dwelling was roughly forty-five miles in a straight line. Forty-five miles per hour, through a desert without landmarks, riddled with monsters and traps, and this newcomer was making it look effortless?

My head is spinning. This is madness.

No. I can’t simply meet such a reckless creature right away. That would be an insult to every challenger who struggled, bled, and endured to reach me.

Very well, then.

I summoned my strength, raising the sands in a towering storm, lacing them with a searing will of white fire. The whirlwind twisted into a spiraling cone, shrieking as it carved its path across the desert.

No defense, no matter how mighty, could withstand this barrier. In an instant, it would carve, melt, and reduce all who touched it to dust.

A little mischief like this is allowed.

Well, perhaps I shouldn’t make it too cruel. This was, after all, still a trial. I had left a path to unravel it for those clever enough to reverse-engineer the spell.

This should remind them just how grueling a trial can be.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a hyuman or a demi-human, power gained too easily is always misused too lightly. Both had convinced themselves that such power was their due.

I’d thought Luto was being reckless when he created that “level system” for the Adventurer’s Guild. I still did. Power should be earned through training and trial so that its wielder knows its worth.

This challenger needs to learn that lesson just like everyone else.

“Well, not that I deny that I’m curious to see this one’s face.”

That muttered confession was the last scrap of leisure I had.

Something struck my barrier.

“Impossible! An arm? No, this is… a mass of pure mana?! Do they mean to tear through my barrier with brute force?!”

A torrent of magic, on a scale beyond reason.

The instant it touched the barrier, its true form was revealed: a hyuman.

Yet around that hyuman swirled… a thing of unfathomable magnitude. A concentration of mana so dense, it was as if all the world’s magic had been gathered into one point.

From that mass sprouted two arms, which were now driving themselves into my barrier.

My understanding of the world was crumbling.

Even among the shrine maidens of Lorel, few ever wielded power that could rival a dragon. But this, this was far beyond even that. To say a single mortal could command such mana was blasphemy against the order of the world itself. A being like this was no mere challenger, they could be called the natural enemy of all life.

No. To let my barrier be broken this way would disgrace my name as a Greater Dragon.

I poured more strength into maintaining it.

The figure advanced, then paused. Even within this maelstrom of white fire that made fire spirits cower, even within the storm where earth spirits abandoned their dialogue with the sands, my opponent stood unflinching.

“Oh.”

A young man’s voice.

I could hear him clearly, but he had yet to pinpoint my presence. Perhaps he only noticed the barrier growing denser. With that much external mana stabilized around him, such perception was natural.

But…

Even though I’m reinforcing it, the torn section isn’t repairing itself.

His power is still rising?! What am I, what am I looking at?!

“The last trap, huh? Annoying to leave it standing when I’ll need to come back this way. Guess I’ll just rip it apart,” he said so simply.

Then, wearing a coat the color of flame, the man thrust his mana-forged arms outward, widening the rift with brutal ease.

I alone could feel it, the structure of my spell snapping apart, unraveling beneath his grip.

The storm of whirling sand and searing white fire amounted to nothing before him. Even worse, the flames, which would incinerate even my kin without hesitation, now recoiled. They were afraid.

No, this is wrong.

This isn’t the strength of a challenger who came seeking trial. No challenger like this has ever existed. Could it be? Has one come to subjugate me?

Since the rise of the Gritonia Empire, none had dared such a thing. But in ages past, there had been those who tried.

Guinevere… Was she threatened into guiding him here? It was possible. Not even she could have stopped a creature like this.

No, even if the entire empire threw its full might against him, could they halt such a being?

I fixed my eyes on the last tatters of my dissolving barrier and waited, grim and unblinking, within the vast shrine that was my resting place.

There was nothing left but to face him head-on. That too was the pride of a Greater Dragon.

He appeared almost immediately.

Lightly dressed, unbelievably so. The only burden on his back was a simple cloth sack. His right hand alone was free, and he carried no weapon worth naming. His red coat might have been armor of a kind, but there was no sign he had prepared for a desert crossing.

Hyuman. His presence was unmistakably that of a hyuman, and yet, utterly unlike any I had known. Everything about him was different.

“Ah, are you the Greater Dragon Gront?”

His voice was careless, relaxed, utterly devoid of the tension the moment deserved.

“Yes. That is correct. Do you seek my blessing?”

“Blessing? Oh, no. I’m just here on an errand. You’re Luto’s aunt, right, Gront-san?”

“Luto?! Aunt?!”

Luto! He knows Luto?

No, wait, that isn’t the issue!

Did he just call me Luto’s aunt?!

The word consumed my thoughts, far more than the shock of Luto’s name. Of all the insolence!

“Anyway,” he went on with an easy shrug, “I have something Luto asked me to deliver. He said it would be safest to entrust it to his aunt, so, please take good care of it.”

“You said it twice, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

Oh yes. There was no doubt.

This boy, he’d said it twice.

“If you know Luto, then surely you understand he and I are not family. Why would you even think a Greater Dragon would form family ties with another? It makes no sense, not with how we were brought into being! With that much strength, with such astonishing mastery of mana, you can’t possibly claim ignorance of such a basic truth. And yet, you said it twice, didn’t you?”

Even Luto only dares say it once. And then she apologizes, insists it was a joke.

“Eh? Eh?” He blinked back at me, face blank.

“So. You’ve no intention of apologizing?” I asked.

“Ah, sorry! It’s just, I don’t really know much about dragon etiquette. Luto just told me to deliver this to you. If I said something offensive…”

If he said something offensive? Exactly. He doesn’t even realize what counts as offensive.

Guilty.

This isn’t a matter of whether I could match him in battle or not.

I’ll teach him. I’ll show this boy the proper manners owed to an older woman!

And Luto too. Guilty. Sending such a clueless hyuman to me! If he kills me, Luto can drown himself in paperwork as punishment!

Besides, I had been thinking it was time for me to rejuvenate anyway. In the past, I always left the details to whichever mortal I had blessed, but perhaps it would be more efficient to cut out the middle step altogether.

Enough. I’ve had it. I’m furious. Absolutely furious!

“Then let me teach you dragon etiquette!” I shouted. “Step outside.”

“Outside? Huh? Wh-Whoa!”

He had no idea what was happening, and I didn’t bother to explain. My roar crashed into him, unstoppable. Now, most hyumans would have collapsed instantly. But, as I expected, it didn’t work on him.

No matter.

I drove the sands and flames into a frenzy, hurling them against him without mercy as I strode forward.

Pressed by my advance, he ran ahead, forced toward the shrine’s exit.

The breath of thirst that stripped away water.

The breath of fire that scorched to the bone.

The scales, hardest among dragonkind, that would batter and crush.

I’ll carve this lesson into his body. This is what it means to fight me—Gront, who has mastered sand and flame in the White Desert.

This would be his trial. My full strength, his welcome.

Beneath the merciless glare of the sun, we faced one another.

※※※

“Tell me, Tomoe-dono—was it really wise to let Young Master go off alone?”

“You mean to Gront? There’s no reason to worry. Sazanami is gentle by dragon standards, hardly one to seek out conflict. And for all his quirks, our Young Master can be polite enough when meeting someone for the first time. He would never say those forbidden words.”

Tomoe and Shiki walked side by side through the imperial capital of Ruinas. Shiki’s brows knitted with concern, while Tomoe laughed breezily, utterly unconcerned.

“If you’re certain, then I suppose it’s fine,” Shiki said carefully.

“Fine or not, it hardly matters,” Tomoe replied. “Young Master will be back by this evening in any case. Our task is to complete the investigation swiftly, Shiki.”

Shiki’s eyes narrowed with curiosity at her obvious cheer. “You seem to be in a rather good mood today, Tomoe-dono.”

“Heh. So you noticed!” Tomoe grinned. “Young Master did something for me yesterday. Something that made me very happy.”

“Oh? Was it when he spoke with the hero?”

“Aye, that it was.”

“Gritonia’s hero, Iwahashi Tomoki. Judging from the Charm that blankets this whole city, his personality is… questionable. Whatever his actual ability may be.”

“That’s where Young Master put him in his place with a single word.”

“I see. Though he never shared the details with us.”

“He didn’t have to. I could guess well enough. Hah, it warms my heart even now.”

“I see, very well then, Tomoe-dono. From here…”

“Yes. Young Master said to focus on the atmosphere of the capital. But you understand what that really means, don’t you?”

Tomoe’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Of course. How much progress they’ve made on developing firearms, the true extent of the hero’s battle record. We’ll gather every scrap of information the time allows.”

A sharp grin made its way onto Shiki’s lips.

“Then let’s split up and lose our tails first. Don’t mix up the rendezvous time or place.”

Tomoe nodded. “I may sample a little of Gritonia’s cuisine while I’m at it. Don’t worry, I won’t be late.”

“I doubt their food could compare to what we craft in the Demiplane.”

“Perhaps not, but inspiration can come from anywhere.”

“Suit yourself. Until later, then.”

“See you.”

In the space of a single blink, the two of them vanished from the watchful eyes that had been tracking their movements.

※※※

An ornament.

The instant she laid eyes on the emperor, Tomoe reached her conclusion.

The hero, Tomoki, and Princess Lily effectively governed Gritonia. But Tomoe had already guessed as much.

That evening’s banquet gathered Gritonia’s leading nobles, the imperial family, and the hero’s companions. But Tomoki himself was absent, said to be away on an urgent mission. At least, that was the reason given to the Kuzunoha Company.

The meal ended without yielding anything of real substance between Gritonia and the company. Kuzunoha maintained their stance: They had no intention of aggressively opening shops in Gritonia or participating in its trade networks. Their presence here was merely in answer to the princess’s invitation during the academy festival. Nothing more.

Even so, they gave no offense. With Shiki and Makoto taking the lead, they navigated the hall with measured grace, exchanging pleasantries with Gritonia’s lords.

Meanwhile, Tomoe quietly gathered information from the emperor and his kin, as well as other guests, on both Gritonia itself and the hero as an individual.

When the banquet drew to a close, Princess Lily’s fleeting expression of frustration told Tomoe everything she needed. The outcome of the evening was clear.

“Tomoe-dono.”

“Shiki, where’s Young Master?”

“He’s resting. He has no intention of venturing out into the capital at night.”

“No nighttime exploration, huh? A pity. This city seems to offer no shortage of… diversions.”

“True. But he did face down a Greater Dragon today. And yet he came back unscathed, sat for dinner as though nothing unusual had happened, and retired without a single scratch on him. Even Gritonia had no choice but to proceed with the banquet as planned.”

Shiki shook his head, letting out a dry laugh.

“It’s hardly something they can admit, is it?” Tomoe pointed out. “Assigning the knight who overcame Gront’s trial to watch over Young Master, only to have him slip her so easily. Even if the boy announced, ‘I met with Gront and spoke with her,’ they couldn’t make it public. That knight’s reputation would be in tatters.”

“Indeed. She’s the only knight in Gritonia to have survived Gront’s trial. Hah.”

“And how about the firearms development? Were you able to uncover anything useful while Young Master was away?”

“That front is secure,” Shiki replied calmly. “Their progress is far behind what we anticipated. As for rifling, they haven’t even approached a basic understanding. At this rate, even with further investments from the princess, their work will drag on for decades.”

“So they’re still stumbling well before rifling the barrel, are they? Hah. Then we’ll have something favorable to report to Young Master.”

“But…”

“Oh?”

“The princess seems to understand that stagnation. I suspect she’s beginning to steer her resources in another direction.”

“You mean, away from firearms?”

“Yes. More specifically, toward exploring the uses and potential of gunpowder itself.”

“Gunpowder?” Tomoe arched a brow. “That unstable nuisance of a substance?”

Shiki nodded gravely.

It was an unsettling possibility, one that Makoto had warned of repeatedly.

“Bombs, then.”

“We can’t be one hundred percent sure, but that is what it sounds like. Not ordinary gunpowder bombs either. They seem to be experimenting with weaving in traces of mana, enhancing both destructive power and effective range.”

“A simple satchel of powder could be blocked by the most basic mana barrier. Against any trained fighter or protected target, it’s worthless. But to infuse it with mana?”

“If they succeed in amplifying its power, even high-ranking figures could become viable targets for Gritonia’s ‘operations.’ Of course, they still lack stability and reliable detonation methods. It won’t bear fruit overnight, but the intent is clear.”

“Hmph. Shiki, you’ve grown soft, haven’t you?” Tomoe’s eyes narrowed. “Playing at being a lecturer at the academy has dulled your edge.”

“Soft? What do you mean, Tomoe-dono?”

“What’s Gritonia’s hero’s signature weapon?”

“There’s no need to ask. His Charm, of course, blanketing the entire capital as we speak. An aberrant magic eye, beyond reason.”

“And that,” Tomoe said, her voice low, “is the trigger. The worst kind of detonator.”

Shiki blinked, then stiffened as realization dawned. “I see. Of course, you’re right. I was thinking too simply. I’ll keep my guard up.”

Even if gunpowder bombs required someone to light the fuse by hand, Tomoki had an endless supply of willing volunteers. His Charm guaranteed it.

That was what Tomoe was truly warning him of. Her words also carried a sharper edge: a caution directed at Shiki himself, who lately had shown more of a hyuman softness than she liked.

“See that you do. You’ll be going with Young Master to the demon capital soon enough. Mio is… different. She might notice things but choose to let them pass. You, however, you’re the one who must hold to common sense.”

“Yes.” Shiki bowed his head in ready assent.

“Now then. Lily, Guinevere, Yukinatsu, and was it Mora as well? I’ve gathered what I could about the hero, not only from him but from those around him. Tomoki, that boy, is a very human hero indeed, though in a different sense from Hibiki.”

Her tone made it clear: This was not praise.

“Human?”

“Yes. I don’t know what the Goddess altered between humans and hyumans, beyond their outward appearance. But both are greedy at their core. Desire is perhaps the very source of what makes a person.”

“Being around Young Master every day, it’s easy to forget that. But yes, I think you’re right.”

Shiki gave a faint, wry smile, as if the words stung somewhere deep.

“Young Master has desires, too. They just aren’t the obvious ones, greed or lust, that most fall prey to.”

“But even that alone is enough to change how one is perceived,” Shiki murmured.

“Iwahashi Tomoki,” Tomoe said, her voice like steel, “was a man who craved strength. Yet he refused to work for it. He shirked even the effort required to function in the small society he belonged to. Misfortune added to his indolence, and he twisted. Became what he is.”

She continued, “From my perspective, having spent so little of my life as a hyuman, he deserves no sympathy. The law of the world is survival of the fittest. The strong devour the weak. That is the root of all order. He became what he became by nature: a failure, a creature meant to fall behind.”

“Then this world must have delighted him,” Shiki replied, his voice utterly flat. “To become special. To gain power.”

“Aye. And, above all, to be needed.” Tomoe’s lips curled in disdain.

“And the result?” said Shiki. “A charm that dominates all hyuman ties, a battle style not much better than slaughter. Quite a contrast to Hibiki, wouldn’t you say?”

“The habits forged in their old world clearly shaped them. Our Young Master aside, of course, his heart finds the highest fulfillment when he practices his kyudo, no matter the world.”

“So that much hasn’t changed?”

“No. Not at all.”

For a brief moment, warmth bloomed between them, an oddly gentle air, out of place amid their grim talk. It lingered, then dispersed like a breath.

“Utterly unchanged,” Tomoe said with a small huff. “Strangely so. Hibiki builds on her successes from that other world, steadily striving here too, layer by layer, reshaping her reality into the form she desires. She falters, she suffers loss, yet still she presses forward. Tomoki, on the other hand…”

Her words trailed into a heavy sigh, carrying all her contempt, the deep certainty of one who found him irredeemably foolish.

“Tomoe-dono?” Shiki interjected softly.

“He’s never properly recovered from his first failure. He should have been grateful, grateful from the depths of his soul, to have been brought to this world. Yet this time, he’s seeking to live a life without a single failure, a single mistake. To realize every desire, fulfill every wish, shape a perfect life for himself.”

The words spilled from Tomoe’s mouth like venom, spat more than spoken.

“That is laughably foolish,” Shiki said with disgust.

“Indeed. Impossible from the start. To seize everything, to hold everything he desires, to save the world and claim it as his own. To crush resistance with strength and charm alike, sacrificing anything and anyone as he pleases. That is the creed he walks by.”

“I see. Hence, the reckless modifications to his body. Hence his shamelessness. It all falls into place now.”

“And Lily as well, she lost her mother and descended into madness. She hides not only hatred for the demons but also rebellion against the Goddess herself. Between her and Tomoki is the worst match conceivable. Or perhaps, in a sense, the most perfect. A miraculous meeting, one might even call it.”

“A spiral of accelerating madness. That path can only end in ruin.”

“Kuku. Spoken by you, those words carry extra weight.”

“Of course. I’ve already been reduced to bones once, after all.”

Shiki gave a bow in the style of a fool, playing the clown for a heartbeat.

Their laughter overlapped softly, surprisingly warm against the dark of night. And with that, the deep hours of their report came to a close.

“A pity, but this makes it plain. Of the two heroes summoned to this world, neither has any true compatibility with our Young Master. Quite the opposite, in fact, the rift is fatal.”

“Tomoki, that much is obvious. But Hibiki as well?”

“Tomoki and Young Master could never coexist except by carving out separate spheres of influence. There’s no room for compromise. And we have no reason to yield. I, for one, have no intention of ever serving anyone but Young Master. My life already belongs to him.”

“As for Hibiki, she would only seek to use him, draw him into her war, then cast him aside. At best, she would try to isolate him from the world. At worst, drive him to destruction.”

“At the very least, I once thought, ‘if even one of them could become a good friend to Young Master’…”

“I share that wish,” Tomoe admitted. “I always hoped he might someday have a peer. Someone his own age that he could bare his heart to, share his worries with. In this world, he has yet to find such a friend. In that sense, the heroes were promising candidates. But no longer.”

Her words were tinged with sorrow and disappointment. There were no theatrics in them, only raw, genuine feelings.

“Fortunately,” Shiki said, “neither poses a true threat to Young Master or to us.”

“Aye. And I’m grateful for that. But should they ever trespass upon our domain or dare to wring Young Master dry for their own ends…”

“Then they shall learn,” Shiki finished quietly, “that there are forbidden realms in this world no one is permitted to touch.”

Tomoe’s eyes glinted with approval. “Good. Hold to that spirit, Shiki. Young Master depends on you.”

“Of course.”

The lamps flickered out.

And thus, the clandestine meeting of Kuzunoha’s two leaders ended in silence.

※※※

“I look forward to hearing your thoughts on opening a shop here next time,” Princess Lily said warmly.

“I’ll give it some thought. Kuzunoha considers you an important guest, Lily-sama. Though Hero-sama is not present, we’ll take our leave here. Thank you for the invitation.”

“I’ll take you at your word.”

I returned her parting smile and stepped into the teleportation circle, leaving her behind.

If I were being honest, I had no intention of opening a shop in Gritonia, but there was no need to say that out loud.

After handing over Lancer’s egg to a thoroughly enraged Gront, I’d gotten back to the capital a little past dusk. A bit behind schedule, yes, but Tomoe and Shiki were waiting for me. Together, we wrapped up our remaining errands without incident, and now, at last, we were on the road home.

Even so…

Who could’ve guessed a Greater Dragon would blow up over being called aunt?

She’d lived for hundreds, maybe thousands of years; reborn time and again, essentially immortal. I figured age wouldn’t even register as a concept anymore.

And yet, at the mere slip of a word, she unleashed everything—breath, roar, tail attacks, and even desert-shaping spells that nearly tore the land apart. She really let loose.

I managed to dodge and endure the whole storm, subdue her, and only then did she calm down enough to listen. I apologized, sincerely, and finally got to the real reason I’d come: to speak with her.

And once we talked, I realized Gront was surprisingly youthful, almost like a woman in her prime.

Maybe when you live long enough, your heart freezes somewhere along the way.

As long as you avoided words like “old,” “aunt,” or “grandma,” she was actually very kind.

As for Luto’s “dragon society field trip”? According to Gront, showing me the White Desert itself was meant to serve that purpose. To the eye, it was a dreamlike sea of pale sand, but beneath that beauty it was soaked in blood, the battlefield of hyumans and dragons alike. Gront told me stories of her trial, of Gritonia’s dawn, and of how the sands had borne witness to it all.

The other Greater Dragons had retainers or caretakers, but Gront seemed intent on showing me the history between hyumans and dragons directly. Still, the fact that we’d ended up fighting had Luto’s brand of mischief written all over it.

And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Gront herself had promised she’d be giving Luto a piece of her mind later.

In the end, it was a relief that things hadn’t turned into a disaster.

Tomoe, Shiki, and I bowed to the group who had come to see us off, Princess Lily at their head.

All right then. Time to go home.

“If you ever have need of us, please reach out to us in Rotsgard. If it’s within our means, we’ll be glad to provide whatever you require,” I said, lifting my head with a merchant’s smile for that final flourish of courtesy.

“Then I’ll be sure to contact you,” Lily answered with a gentle smile. “Please take care on your journey.”

Her face revealed nothing of her true intentions. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d arranged all of this with some hidden motive, perhaps hoping to bring the hero and me face-to-face.

Still, Tomoki hadn’t been here at all.

Gritonia’s movements are impossible to read. This isn’t just about winning their war against the demons; there’s something more complicated at play.

Well, whatever their true purpose, time would eventually bring it to light. At the very least, I now understood what Gritonia thought of us, and that was enough to know the stance I needed to take in return. For that alone, this visit had been worth it.

The light of teleportation wrapped around us, and the world shifted.

Let’s move fast and get out of Robin. Once we do, it’ll be easy to slip back into the Demiplane.

First thing on the list back in Rotsgard was a meeting with the Demon King. Near Kaleneon, we were scheduled to meet one of his generals, Rona.

Tomoe had arranged the location herself.

Kaleneon will no doubt come up in the talks. She probably intends to settle that matter as well. Honestly, that suits me just fine.

Still, depending on circumstances, it might be delayed a little.

Either way, this trip to Gritonia had been exhausting.

I just want to get home and sleep like a rock.

※※※

“So then, you don’t know what Raidou was doing in the White Desert?”

“My apologies, Princess. He moved through the sands with such impossible speed, it was as if he were cutting the desert itself apart. I couldn’t follow.”

“I doubt Gront would take any action against him, but Fals’s connections really are unfathomable. To think he counts Greater Dragons among his acquaintances. Raidou only said he had business in the White Desert and asked to be left alone, but I never imagined he’d do something like this. We missed it entirely. He insisted on going by himself, with none of his retainers, but for him to press into the heart of the desert on his own…”

By the time the Kuzunoha delegation was a few teleportation circles closer to home, Lily had returned to her chambers and summoned Guinevere for a full report.

The report was little more than a repetition of what Guinevere had already given upon returning to the capital, with some clarifications added. The core was unchanged: She had lost Raidou in the desert, unable to discern his purpose. A great sound had echoed across the sands, then subsided, and he was back within hours. Efforts were underway to confirm Gront’s safety.

That was all Guinevere could say.

“Tomoe and Shiki vanished into the city streets as well. Honestly, for all that they’re not from Limia or the demons but merely a merchant company, they still manage to play us for fools.”

“Princess Lily, what do you truly make of them?”

“The Kuzunoha Company? Hmm, enigmatic. Neither enemy nor ally, uncomfortably undefined. As for Raidou himself, Tomoki claims he’s Japanese. In other words, an otherworlder.”

“An otherworlder?! Then, is he a hero, the same as Tomoki-sama?!”

“Not necessarily. Both Tomoki and Hibiki of Limia appeared at the Goddess’s oracle. But not all otherworlders arrive that way. Several have come here in the past without divine summons.”

“I had no idea people like that existed.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Lorel guards that secret well. Still, it’s said that those people did manage to integrate into Lorel’s society. You’ve heard of the Sages, haven’t you?”

“The Sages, Lorel’s privileged class. I’ve heard some people possess unique knowledge or abilities.”

“That’s how it’s described abroad. In truth, Lorel’s been protecting otherworlders, granting them that status. That’s what the Sages really are. There are none alive now, but their descendants are around. That legacy of specialized knowledge has made Lorel a land others think twice before meddling with.”

“In any case, thank you, Guinevere. You’ve done enough for today. Go, rest.”

“Yes, Princess. Forgive me, I’ll take my…”

“Oh, and one more thing. You are not to visit Tomoki-sama tonight. Leave him to himself a while longer.”

“Y-Yes, I understand.”

As soon as Guinevere was safely out the door, Lily let the smile fall from her face.

She had succeeded in bringing Raidou and the core of the Kuzunoha Company into Gritonia, but beyond that, almost none of her objectives had been achieved.

This was an unsatisfying result.

Lily wasn’t naive; she’d never expected that a single meeting would be enough to draw Kuzunoha into her hand. Even so, she’d hoped to extract more information, and, if fortune favored her, lure them into opening just one shop within the capital.

If they planted roots here, she could analyze their goods and interfere with them more easily.

As it stood, she would have to travel all the way to Rotsgard whenever she required their services. And if, by some chance, Raidou decided to close his shop there, any future dealings would force her to reach out to that wretched backwater called Tsige.

Communications could perhaps be arranged without the need to travel, but such a change would certainly be inconvenient.

In the end, the only thing I managed to accomplish was arranging contact between Tomoki and Raidou. At least that yielded results close to what I wanted. And to discover in the process that Raidou’s an otherworlder, that was a nice little bonus. And I didn’t even have to rely on Tomoki’s baseless accusation; Raidou came right out and said it himself.

Still, otherworlder or not, I didn’t sense even a trace of the Goddess’s power or blessing on him. Maybe that’s just because he isn’t a hero. But an otherworlder who shows no sign of the Goddess’s touch, hmm. Unnatural features for a hyuman, and yet he’s clearly not a demi-human. That’s probably why Tomoki guessed it. But, ah, yes. If even his retainers showed no alarm, then perhaps that so-called confession was a lie. There’s little advantage in revealing such a truth at this stage.

Those two, Tomoe and Shiki, struck me as sharp. Raidou seemed to lean on them heavily, even back in Rotsgard. But then, what could he gain by pretending to be Japanese? If my suspicions are correct about his stance toward Tomoki, then it’s reasonable to assume he has no intent to cozy up to him.

Lily exhaled slowly, a wan sigh escaping her lips.

Leaving her chambers, she made her way slowly and thoughtfully toward Tomoki’s private quarters.

Since his encounter with Raidou, Tomoki had locked himself away, refusing food, shutting out everyone, even his own party. It was his own demand, and Lily honored it by forbidding anyone from entering.

First, I need to see to Tomoki. From his state, I can judge what Raidou did, and perhaps glimpse the true depths of his power.

Knock, knock.

After a courteous rap on the door and hearing no response, Lily called softly, “Tomoki-sama, it’s Lily. The Kuzunoha Company has departed. Please, tell me what happened.”

“Not now, Lily. I can’t, not yet. Please, just let me be alone a while longer.”

The voice that came back was frail, nothing like the confident young man Lily knew.

Her face didn’t so much as twitch. She had expected this.

“What could have happened?” she asked. “They were my guests; if Raidou did something to you, then the fault is also mine. Tomoki-sama, I’m begging you, let me come in.”

Even with no answer, she pressed on, weaving her words with precision.

She praised him, comforted him, lowering herself while raising him higher, playing every note of reassurance. No one understood how to handle Tomoki better than she did.

When at last the door opened, slowly, hesitantly, that was proof enough.

“Come in, Lily.”

Tomoki sat slouched on his bed, unable to meet her eyes.

“Tomoki-sama! Whatever has happened to weigh you down so terribly?!”

The instant his face was revealed, a different side of Lily appeared. Gone was the masklike serenity that had infused her voice on the other side of the door; instead, her features twisted as though she herself might break into tears, her being radiating concern and tenderness.

She sat at his side on the bed, listening intently as he recounted the events with Raidou—nodding at each point, her sympathy flawless.

Tomoki recounted how he had been caught off guard, fought back valiantly, but been overwhelmed by Raidou’s brutal threats. He had failed to claim Tomoe for himself.

If this is how Tomoki is telling it, Lily thought, then the truth is probably much harsher. The Valkyries must have been swatted aside without even scratching Raidou, and Tomoki himself got completely shut down. That attack of his that drove Sofia back once was useless indoors. And he was barely armed, carrying minimal gear. Plausible enough.

Yet Raidou himself wasn’t carrying anything resembling a weapon. So, a mage or a warrior who’s trained in martial arts? Judging from Tomoki’s account, maybe both. A mage with a fighter’s reflexes. That’s troublesome. More so because even in an incomplete state, he still overwhelmed Tomoki. A far more formidable enemy than I’d expected.

Lily stripped Tomoki’s tale of its exaggerations, dissecting it piece by piece while sitting at his side, eyes glistening with tears, her hand wrapped tenderly around his.

Then there are his retainers, Tomoe, Shiki, and Mio. Each one a first-rate powerhouse in their own right. If only they shared our goal of exterminating the demons, I’d cast all this aside and trade without hesitation. Perhaps it’s my bad luck.

No. Even if Hibiki had been chosen as Gritonia’s hero, she’d never have moved at my command. And as for Raidou, his dealings with demi-humans leave little hope. No, for the purpose of war, the one sitting before me is actually the greatest prize. He kills without hesitation. Slaughters without remorse.

The thought flickered, then was banished. Imagining Hibiki or Raidou in Tomoki’s place was pointless. Both, in their own ways, would have obstructed her ambitions.

“Tomoki-sama, Raidou is a terrifyingly powerful man,” Lily said. “What shall we do? Should we seek to draw him into our fold? If that’s your wish, I could…”

“Make Raidou my ally?”

Anger and hatred bled at the edges of Tomoki’s broken voice.

“Yes. With your strength beside mine, we could succeed. If we honored him properly, gave him rank, gave him all he desired, then perhaps he could be persuaded.”

“You mean you want me to bow to him?”

“This is all for you, Tomoki-sama. If he became our enemy, he could ruin everything, burn it all to ash. To prevent that, it is but a small sacrifice for myself, for Guinevere, Yukinatsu, or Mora, for all of us to endure a little discomfort.”

Whether Raidou desired women or not, Lily had no way of knowing. No, if Tomoki had thought clearly, he would have realized the chance was almost nonexistent. He, of all people, had spoken to Raidou face-to-face.

“Lily”

“And if we could bring the Kuzunoha Company into our fold, that would make them part of our faction as well. It would align perfectly with your goals, Tomoki-sama.”

“Our factio… Wait, what?!”

“Yes. Then I shall dispatch envoys at once.”

“No!!!” Tomoki shouted, rising from the bed in sudden fury.

“Tomoki-sama?”

Of course. There’s no way you could endure such humiliation. To stand as a “hero” beneath Raidou in truth? Impossible. If it were Hibiki, she would gladly abase herself if it meant winning what she needed, but not you.

Lily laughed silently in her heart. Tomoki could never stomach bowing to anyone. He would never allow Raidou to be placed above him, never allow himself to invite Kuzunoha in submission.

So then, what would he choose instead?

That was the path Lily had been guiding him toward all along. To drive Tomoki back to the decision he had once balked at.

To him, it would gleam now like the spider’s thread dangling into hell itself, thin, fragile, and yet the only lifeline within reach.

And, indeed, her calculations were perfect.

“I don’t need him,” Tomoki declared. “I am the hero. I’ll slay the demons, defeat the Demon King, and rule the world. I don’t care if he’s Japanese too; there’s no way I’d rely on him.”

The role of hero, as ordained by the Goddess, was only ever to repel the demons. All this about ruling the world, that had been planted in Tomoki’s mind by Lily herself, patiently, over time. All that remained was to guide him the rest of the way. Calmly, steadily, Lily pressed on.

“But he is strong. If left unchecked, he could become a grave obstacle.”

“Then I only need to become stronger. That’s it. There’s nothing to agonize over,” Tomoki said firmly.

“Stronger? But Tomoki-sama, you already wield power that consumes your very life in battle against the demons. What greater strength could you possibly seek?”

The new ability Tomoki had gained, Lily knew it well. A spell of blazing fire, cast with absolute power across a vast range without the slightest loss of force. Even if one survived its flames, a unique poison would cling to their body, ensuring death soon followed.

It was a weapon of pure devastation, unmatched in war.

Tomoki had admitted that it came at a steep cost, one that forbade reckless use: This spell would cost him his life. And yet Lily was certain, in that decisive moment, he would unleash it without hesitation.

Knowing Tomoki possessed such might filled Lily with elation. But Tomoki…

In Tomoki, it had sown a seed of fear—fear of reaching for more power, when new power might pose an even greater risk to his life.

“Lily. Before we left for Rotsgard, you mentioned something. It’s still prepared, isn’t it?” Tomoki asked.

“Tomoki-sama. That procedure is poison to the body. Imperial experiments in hyuman modification were meant only to forge weapons against the demons. For you, who already command such glorious power, they are unnecessary.”

“No. My Charm didn’t work on Tomoe. If I lack strength, then I’ll add more, but that woman is a dragon, so give me a dragon’s bloodline! Like Mora, transfer the trait of a dragon tamer to me, and even Raidou won’t be able to resist my charm! And not just that, any trait, any aptitude, whatever increases my attack power; swordsmanship, sorcery, anything! Give them all to me!”

“Tomoki-sama, no! Even should you defeat the demons, what meaning would remain if you lacked the life to rule after? Please, you must value your own life.”

“I will win. The war, everything, victory is the only meaning! I’ll never live lying to myself again. I’ll live as I want, without regrets! I’ll crush Raidou and the demons both. Tomoe will be mine. I refuse to give up! Lily, if you won’t help me, I’ll do it alone. I’ll reach that power, no matter what!”

A dangerous light burned in Tomoki’s eyes.

“To think, you’ve been driven so far,” Lily whispered, turning her face aside, shoulders trembling with emotion.

“Please. I know it’s shameless, asking after I rejected it once before. But lend me your strength. I want power! For the first time in my life, I’ve struggled, I’ve tried, and I don’t want to give up!!!” He clung to her words like a drowning man, pleading, almost begging.

“Lily!”

“Very well. For tonight, please rest. I will make the arrangements.”

“Thank you! Thank you, Lily!”

“If you feel even the smallest ill effect, you must report it to me. Promise me that.”

“Yes. I’ll bring victory to Gritonia, without fail!”

“I look forward to that day with all my heart. Now, rest well, Tomoki-sama.”

She left, bowing deeply, her face a mask of sorrow and resolve.

Through the corridors she walked, her expression grim, so much so that word of the princess’s heavy-hearted state quickly spread throughout the castle.

And then…

Back in her chambers, after locking down the security wards for the night, she threw herself onto her canopy bed, lying flat on her back. One arm draped over her eyes, while her lips curled into a smile.

“Ku, fufufu, ahahaha! Oh, how easy a boy you are. Even if you should win the war, Tomoki, there will be no peace, no pleasures left for you to enjoy. And yet, thanks to Raidou, your last hesitation is gone. Thank you, Raidou. By using you as the spur, I’ve ensured Tomoki will chase power without end. At the very least, you’ve done your part. Ufufu.”

The princess’s laughter carried across the room, threaded through with her muttered soliloquy.

More power for Tomoki.

More suffering for the demons.

More flames to spread across the world.

It was no longer Tomoki she seemed enchanted by, but war itself. And yet she laughed on, even as another feeling smoldered at the depths of her chest: a treacherous warmth for Tomoki.

His Charm…

The affection it planted was overwhelming, irresistible. Strongest of all when directed at those he himself favored.

Even Lily, despite every layer of wards, defenses, and disciplines she had woven around herself, could not completely withstand it. His power seeped into her heart drip by drip, inexorably.

She had not drowned in it yet, but perhaps one day she would. Perhaps she would collapse into it entirely.

By then, it will be too late. If my own madness reaches that point first, the Charm won’t make a difference.

And so, she laughed, on and on.

“Truly, the ideal hero. We were meant to meet, weren’t we, Tomoki? Not Raidou, not Hibiki, but you. You’re the one who can grant my wish. Isn’t that right, Goddess?” she added, directing her gaze to the sky above.

Just once, her laughter stopped. She stared coldly into the distance, her eyes unfocused, her voice hollow as she whispered.

Then the laughter returned, pealing louder, broken by faint sobs, until at last it softened into steady breathing. The princess had fallen asleep, still smiling.

※※※

Uh, right.

The desert.

Yeah, I really did go there, didn’t I?

Back in the Demiplane, I’d received reports from Tomoe and Shiki about Gritonia’s hyuman experiments, their combat techniques, the Valkyries, and even their research into firearms.

I’d only asked them to gauge the mood of the capital, but it seemed they had dug up far deeper intel than I expected.

What stuck with me most was the news of the gun.

Apparently, Princess Lily had been eager to reproduce the concept after hearing about it from Tomoki. But she hadn’t been able to overcome the problems of misfires and size.

The “guns” they’d managed to produce, based on Tomoki’s knowledge of handguns and rifles, were nothing more than prototypes. They demanded enormous magical power and, at best, could launch a metal bullet once in a while.

On the other hand, that meant a sufficiently skilled mage could use one as a self-defense tool.

According to Tomoe, the production costs made no sense, the reliability and maintenance were abysmal, and no real combat proof could be expected.

Yet, Princess Lily was not the type to waste even failure. Seizing on the destructive accidents, she shifted her research to focus on gunpowder’s potential—specifically, bombs.

With magical enhancement, their power could be amplified. And unlike firearms, they could be used effectively, even by ordinary soldiers or civilians. A grimly practical idea, and, honestly, a testament to her persistence.

Bombs and hyumans. Not exactly a good combination.

Which was worse, guns or bombs? I wasn’t sure I could answer that.

Anyway, that was my takeaway from Gritonia’s report.

Now, here I was, staring at the desert.

Not the White Desert, because I’d gone to sleep in the Demiplane, after all.

…

Ah. So this must be a dream.

This time, I was watching from above. A bird’s-eye view—or maybe, in gaming terms, something like a quarter view. Pretty elaborate for a dream.

“The moon above the desert, I’ve always considered it one of the most beautiful sights in this world. Tell me, what do you think?” The voice was low and hoarse.

It belonged to a man in his prime.

“Hah. You dare say that here, of all places, Makoto?”

Makoto? Wait, he means me? Ehhh?!

I searched for the speaker. In the night-bound desert, two figures stood beneath the moonlight.

“I’ve never actually been to a desert on Earth,” one of them said. “So the only comparison I can make is the White Desert. Maybe you’re right, maybe it isn’t my place to say.”

He looked exactly as his voice suggested: a middle-aged man with a thick beard, clad in unfamiliar armor, a sword in hand. I had turned into another “me,” grown a beard, and was standing right there. Which version of Raidou is this supposed to be?

“You idiot,” the other snapped. “You’re boasting about the desert you created yourself.”

“Created or not, desert is desert, isn’t it, Tomoki?”

Tomoki.

There was no mistaking him. Silver hair, sharp features—he fit the image exactly.

“You’ve mocked me again and again, calling me insane. But you’re the real madman. Who turns an entire nation into a desert with a single spell?” he asked.

“And you, Tomoki, don’t you mimic nuclear fire in your own spells? That’s every bit as inhumane. Even insane,” “I” replied.

“Don’t lump me in with you. My spell shaves away my life. It’s meant to terrify, to force surrender. If one blast convinces them to yield, then thousands of pointless deaths can be avoided.”

“That’s just how you spin it. But in truth, your power only drove Lily deeper into her madness. That was the point of no return.”

Nuclear fire? Turning nations into deserts? What kind of nightmare conversation is this?

First, it was Senpai showing up in that other dream, and now this. Why is it all so absurdly violent?

Do I secretly have dangerous thoughts buried somewhere? Or am I just too exhausted to notice what’s leaking out in my dreams?

“‘The point of no return’? Hyumans had to destroy the demons. And with Hibiki dying so early, the burden all fell on Gritonia. If you want to curse the escalation of war, blame that useless Hibiki,” Tomoki spat.

“That’s Senpai to you. If you and I had gone to save her, she might have lived. Io wouldn’t have slaughtered her like that.”

Io killed Senpai?

And if Tomoki had gone to help? Then, in their world, Senpai must have died during the recent attack on the royal capital.

“Don’t give me what-ifs!” Tomoki shot back. “At the time, we had to defend our own borders. That was Lily’s call, too. And if you want to play hypotheticals, if I hadn’t dragged your half-dead body back from the Edge of the World, you wouldn’t even be standing here right now.”

“That was long ago. And yes, I do give you some measure of thanks. I’d wandered the Wasteland at least a week, resigned to death when you and your people found me. Still, looking back, perhaps it would have been better if I had died there.”

“Tch. Funny thing to say, considering all you’ve done since. What the hell is this mess supposed to be? Is this how you treat the man who saved you?”

“I never disobeyed your orders, did I? It was Lily’s dying wish. That’s why I’ve gone along with everything until now. Even the commands that would have put me at risk, I obeyed.”

“I told you to seize Lorel for me.”

“And I did. I followed that insane command, and I delivered. This”, “I” gestured around at the endless sands, “is Lorel. Do as you like. Its people, its history, its knowledge, all turned to dust… well, to sand. But without question, this land was once the Lorel Federation.”

“And the Valkyries who were with you?”

“Regrettably, they were lost.”

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

“Harsh words. They died in the operation, nothing more. It’s the sort of thing you do all the time.”

Unbelievable.

From what they’re saying, this entire desert used to be the Lorel Federation? And “I” did this with some kind of spell?

The last dream I’d had… That “me” had used the Realm in a way utterly different from how I would. So, it wasn’t strange if this older version of me wielded some kind of unique power.

Though honestly, even now, I can’t shake the feeling that what I saw back then wasn’t really me at all.

“What about Yukinatsu, the one who infiltrated ahead of us?” Tomoki asked.

“No idea. If she escaped, then she’s hiding somewhere. If not, then she’s dead. That’s war, people die, friend and foe alike.”

“Even so, there’s no such thing as a just war where you shoot your own allies in the back.”

“Well, well, bold words from the man who slaughtered the emperor and his loyalists wholesale, then proclaimed himself the next emperor.”

“They were nothing but a tiny faction, a pathetic minority!”

“And only because you had enthralled nearly everyone else. Those few who resisted your Charm were the last of the emperor’s true loyalists. Your bewitchment doesn’t justify what you did.”

“The people, the officials, the army, they all wanted me as their emperor.”

“That too was nothing more than your Charm. What I cannot understand is why you cling to it so desperately, why you obsess over strengthening that ability.”

“What did you just say?”

Ah. What “I” just said, actually, I’ve wondered the same thing myself.

Why does Tomoki cling to Charm so much? Even when I met him in Gritonia, he relied on it obsessively, using it at every turn. It’s abnormal.

“You force belief and dependence onto others!” “I” snapped. “You overwrite their thoughts until they accept you without question. In the end, what you’re really doing is mass-producing versions of yourself. You call it loyalty, but all it is compulsion. Perhaps your self-love blinds you to it, but to me, it’s nothing more than self-indulgence, masturbation in the guise of power.”

“You-You bastard!”

“Hibiki-senpai’s charisma wasn’t ‘right,’ and your Charm wasn’t ‘wrong.’ As a way to start relationships, they’re not so different. But you’ve grown utterly dependent on it. And the result? Gritonia became nothing but you and your puppets. A kingdom of zombies.”

Tomoki’s face twisted with rage. “Shut up. If I hadn’t, idiots like you and Hibiki would’ve started popping up, mouthing off to me!”

“Heh. I see. So that’s it. You wanted to eliminate anyone who could defy you. No dissent, no will of their own. That’s the answer. At last, my long-held question is resolved.”

“Don’t get cocky. What about you, then? Always going on about Lily, Lily. She was the first woman I enthralled, the first I bent to my will. And you, you turned a whole nation into sand for her sake. What does that make you? Come on, say it!”

W-wait. Me? In love with Princess Lily?

No, this version of me was, anyway. What kind of wild, fantasy development is this?

“Lily was never under your Charm, Tomoki. Not once, not to the very end,” “I” revealed.

“Wait, what did you just say?” Tomoki asked, confused.

“She used you. Lily lost her mother while the Goddess fell silent. She never managed to digest that grief, and so she threw herself into politics. With a heart that warped, what do you think a so-called ‘hero’ looked like to her? A toy to be used and granted by the same Goddess who ignored her mother’s pleas. That was you, Tomoki. She meant to use you until you broke, to slaughter the demons, and then turn on the Gritonia that let her mother die. And in the end, she succeeded.”

“Lily used me? You’re out of your mind, Makoto. What the hell are you?”

“If only I had met her first. If only I had spoken with her before you did, perhaps I could have spared her. I could have guided her grief and madness to some better end. But I hesitated. My weakness cost me Lily. That failure… I can never forgive myself.”

“So now you’re taking it out on me, huh? Always whining about the past while ignoring the future! Look at the power you’re flaunting now; you could have ended the war easily. And Lily? If you wanted my castoff that badly, you should’ve just begged on your knees. I’d have given her to you.”

“I couldn’t help it. I only realized my power when I killed the Demon King.”

What?

Wait! Killed the Demon King?!

H-Hold on, time out.

First of all, I don’t have the slightest bit of romantic feelings for the princess. If anything, she’s the kind of person I’m not great at dealing with. Sure, she’s a beautiful older woman, and okay, maybe my type looks-wise, but that’s it!

As for the Demon King? I can say with absolute certainty: I have zero desire to kill him. Not now, not ever! I’ve never once thought about that!

“I” went on, “It was the first time I truly thirsted for power, while you lay there, sprawled in the dirt. My so-called awakening was laughably late and hardly convenient. By then, everything was already beyond saving. So you were right about one thing: All that’s left for me is to lash out at you like this. And maybe pick a fight with that useless, silent Goddess while I’m at it.”

“The Demon King, it was I who killed him,” Tomoki began. “With my spell, I…”

“All you did was provoke him. While you were off sleeping like a baby, I ended it. The Demon King, the demons—all of them. And now, I’ll kill you too.”

“What are you saying?”

“When I do, the Goddess will have to show her face. And if she doesn’t, I’ll just form another desert or two. Expand the edges of the world until she can’t ignore it. Let’s see how long she can keep silent.”

This “me” spoke without the slightest hint of emotion, voice flat, detached.

Tomoki, astonished, responded, “The war’s over! This world finally ended its fighting. Shouldn’t the natural course be to build peace now? You-You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Whoever said the end of one war means peace? The end of one war just makes way for the next. That’s how it is.”

“I should’ve left you to die back then. Fine. I’ll be the one to end you here. And know this, your spells won’t work on me. This’ll be one-sided, but you’d better not complain.”

“Only works at night, doesn’t it? That immortality of yours, that too came from the Goddess. No matter. I’ll kill you repeatedly until dawn. By sunrise, you’ll finally stay dead.”

Oh, come on.

Is this really going to turn into a fight?

And yet, a part of me actually wants to see it. This “me” is the kind of man who can turn a whole country into a desert with a single strike. What does a battle like that even look like?

That sword he carries, what’s with that? I’ve never had a shred of training with a blade. But this version of me? He clearly has. What kind of swordsmanship would he use?

I want to see it. I want to witness it.

Last time I dreamed like this, I barely kept my sanity. But this time…

What the…

My vision blurred. The two figures locked in confrontation began to fade into the distance. The world tilted upward, as though I were being lifted into the sky.

The desert stretched wider and wider beneath me, its vastness revealed all at once. And then…

“Damn it. Of course, it was just a dream. Not the sort I ever get in Gritonia or Rotsgard, though.”

Flat on my back, I opened my eyes.

“But seriously, I made one hell of a grim-looking old man in that dream, scowling like some hardened veteran. And, as usual, Tomoe and the others were nowhere in sight.”

And that detail… Wandering the Wasteland for over a week.

If I’d really staggered around that long, I’d have been dead for sure. Maybe it was showing me a road not taken. A version of events that could have happened, depending on which step I took.

The thought sent a chill down my spine.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten into the habit of practicing archery in the Demiplane? The timing’s too neat. I know it wasn’t some kind of prophetic dream, but still, the aftertaste is awful.”

I considered getting up to shoot a few arrows anyway, just to clear my head. But in the end, I stayed where I was.

Pulling the blanket over myself, I shut my eyes, forcing sleep to come.

Chapter 7

“Then, take care on your journey, Young Master.”

“Safe travels, Raidou-sens, no, Raidou-dono.”

It was a winter morning, heavy with mist.

On the great bridge spanning the cliffs at the border of Kaleneon, a small procession bowed deeply as three figures crossed into the haze. Already their backs were fading, silhouettes swallowed by the rolling fog.

The season’s cold was harsh enough on its own, but today the mist made the air’s bite even sharper. And yet those left behind stood without so much as a shiver, lined up in perfect order.

There was something unusual about that lineup. Among them were many who were clearly not hyuman—shapes that belonged to other races entirely.

“Well then, we’ll need to have another report compiled by the time they get back,” said one of the two at the head of the group.

The voice, distinctly feminine, came from a short, plump figure. But her appearance was far from hyuman. In simple terms, she was a bipedal boar of the race known as the highland orcs.

“To think he’s truly going to parley with the demons. Raidou-sama never ceases to defy expectations,” murmured the other.

This second woman had long hair and glasses, her air intellectual and composed. She was, without question, a hyuman.

“Eva, we’re heading back,” the orc woman, Ema, said with urgency. “All right? We’ll start with the claims he made so proudly the other day: about crops that could be planted and harvested even in winter. That’s where we press him.”

“Ema-san, I did offer a few suggestions, but more than anything, we don’t have enough arable land for those kinds of trials. Before that, we should focus on the progress of the reclamation efforts.”

“Already on it. You’re slow. Frankly, painfully slow. From now on, I’ll hear no excuses about ‘because it’s winter.’ None. And another thing, we’ll be reviewing your tax rates.”

“U-Uh, about that. We started with practically nothing in the treasury, so I thought it best to save as much as possible for now. Of course, I kept the people’s welfare in mind above all else. I may have set it at the same level as the great nations, but I thought it was still within reason.”

Despite the similarity of their names, Eva’s and Ema’s positions couldn’t have been more different.

What stood out even more was the reversal of expectation: In a conversation between a hyuman and a non-hyuman, it was the hyuman who spoke apologetically. Such a thing was almost unheard of.

“And how exactly is a seventy-thirty split ‘within reason’? The citizens Young Master entrusted to us, no matter their race, will never permit them to starve or freeze to death,” Ema lectured.

“S-Seventy?” Eva asked, confused.

“Fifty-fifty at most. Honestly, do you have any idea what it means to govern a nation? To show such a careless attitude is nothing short of idiocy. In this land, where hyumans and demi-humans must live side by side, you can’t just expect the old hyuman standards of statecraft to apply unchanged.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The rebuke was blunt, even bordering on unreasonable, but Eva showed no resistance. By now, she understood Ema’s abilities and temperament well enough not to argue.

Eva didn’t even know what “seventy-thirty” or “fifty-fifty” referred to. But if Ema said her plan had been wrong, then it must have been.

I always thought orcs were simple creatures, she mused—different names, different appearances, but nothing more than musclebound dullards following instinct. But highland orcs, wherever they come from, have knowledge on par with scholars. I might have been a librarian at the academy once, but even I can’t keep up with them. Raidou-sens—Raidou-dono’s acquaintances, there isn’t a single ordinary person among them.

Makoto had introduced Eva to Ema within minutes of her arrival in Kaleneon.

“She’s kind, and someone you can rely on,” he had told her before that first meeting.

Her resolve to cast aside her old assumptions, to never again call something “impossible,” no matter how bizarre, was shattered in an instant. Who could blame her? She had never even imagined she would one day hold a conversation with an orc, let alone study under one. That was the moment Eva carved it into her broken heart: Nothing that would happen from that point on could be considered strange.

Born in a nation that was destroyed, stripped of her lands, and condemned by her own kin for the crime of having survived, Eva’s heart had been half-consumed by madness.

And yet, all of that had been blown away the moment she encountered Raidou, Makoto, in Rotsgard.

By one absurdity after another.

Whether that marked her return to sanity or simply a replacement of her old madness with a new one remained uncertain.

“How are all the different races coming along?” Ema asked, turning toward the group behind her.

There stood a towering orc far larger than her, a lizardfolk with azure scales, a winged folk with snowy wings, and a stocky dwarf about the same height as Ema but built like a stone wall.

“At the moment, there’s no new land fit for development,” the lizardfolk replied first. “Fields, yes, we have more than enough land for farming. But expanding into open ground without a way to deal with monsters is pointless.”

“Deal with them?” Ema’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying those paltry beasts are a problem? Among the people who fled here to Kaleneon, weren’t there adventurers and other people with combat training?”

“Most of them still aren’t used to the harsh environment here,” the lizardfolk answered steadily. “And in truth, many of the others simply lack the strength. Ever since the demon invasion, few hyumans have been used to working in snowy climates. If more of the locals had survived, things might be different.”

“And? None are left?”

“Only a handful. Not one of them has real combat experience. I believe Ema-dono has already received their testimony. But frankly, these are people who survived on nothing but the Goddess’s blessing. How practical their knowledge will prove is questionable.”

At these words, Ema exhaled a long, weary sigh, her disappointment plain.

“So even if we focus on farming, we’ll still need a proper guard force. But you’re saying few here are capable of holding the line against monsters?”

“That’s the problem,” the lizardfolk confirmed. “There are perhaps a handful of adventurers who can be relied upon. Hiring from outside or assigning our own warriors to escort duty would be the most practical course of action. Based on the survey so far, most of the beasts that live in this country are especially active in winter. Eva’s proposal to delay formal training until spring is not without merit.”

“I understand,” Ema affirmed. “I’ll make the case for outside support, for bringing in adventurers. We can’t do everything on their behalf; there would be no point.”

“So long as training and patrols continue in the meantime, I have no objection.”

“Of course. See to it.”

Throughout the exchange, Eva said almost nothing. Yet her silence held no trace of resentment, nor was it forced.

Ever since Raidou had introduced her to the monsters and demi-humans who now worked beside her, Eva had resolved to learn their way of thinking, to adapt to their standards of normality.

The expectations they set were outrageous, but then again, so was the very premise of their existence: A single merchant company seizing a nation in the heart of demon-controlled lands. That Raidou and the Kuzunoha Company had accomplished it at all was already abnormal beyond words.

It was she, Eva, who’d chosen to rely on them. In rebuilding Kaleneon from ruin, there was no one else she could turn to.

She had to learn to move by their standards. That was her decision.

Ema and the others never treated her with contempt, never dismissed her. They addressed her only as the representative of a nation, to be hardened, not coddled.

It was terrifyingly strict. They would not let her break, even if she wanted to. Such was Eva’s place now.

When the lizardfolk stepped back, Ema turned her gaze to the towering orc beside him. He only shook his head slowly.

“Nothing new to report. We’re still gathering information on the beasts as we work on securing food. Hunting is primarily in the hands of adventurers, which makes for steady, if unspectacular, progress. By your measure, Ema, we’re hitting around eighty percent efficiency.”

“So we’re falling short by about twenty percent. Can the number of personnel be increased?”

“No issue there,” the orc rumbled after a pause. “But if you really want to avoid unnecessary deaths, I recommend keeping the group small. Numbers aren’t always an advantage, either for those under our protection or for the hunters themselves.”

“I understand. Then I’ll assign three more to the task, and I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“Very well.”

When the two orcs stepped back, the next to come forward was the winged folk. Of those assembled, they looked the most hyuman, save the pair of wings unfurled from their back, and the alien qualities woven into their very nature.

When Eva first learned that the winged folk were considered outsiders even among the demi-humans, she was very surprised.

“Borders are secure,” the winged folk reported. “On occasion, demons approach, but no incursions have been permitted. We have engaged those who ignored our warnings, but all were repelled without loss on our side.”

“You’ve done well,” Ema remarked. “Then it’s best to keep the current division between border patrol and other duties?”

“Not exactly. Those assigned to the border have begun to find themselves with their hands free. With expanding patrol routes as we adapt, and thanks to Tomoe-sama’s lectures on reconnaissance techniques, we can afford to reassign several of them to other work without weakening security.”

“That’s good news. Then I’d like you to submit a list of candidates later.”

“Will do.”

Kaleneon’s cliffs served as its natural walls. Its border defense, entrusted to the winged folk, was absolute; no outsider entered without the Kuzunoha Company’s approval.

The last to step forward was the dwarf. His face was troubled before he even spoke.

“Now, where to begin?”

“The distribution of tools?” Ema guessed. “Still delayed?”

“Aye.” The dwarf’s shoulders sagged. “For all the smiths and craftsmen we have, it’s nowhere near enough. If more of the people here had an affinity for earth magic, the burden would be lighter, but as it stands, the shortage of skilled hands is crippling. And we can’t spare any more of our own. As I’ve said before, why not allow other dwarves to be welcomed as citizens? Kaleneon has several volcanoes; it’s the kind of land where our folk thrive. It wouldn’t be a bad place for them.”

“That matter is still pending Young Master’s judgment. He seems hesitant; it may amount to poaching from the Lorel Federation, and he’s weighing that carefully.”

“Aye, troubling the lad with such dilemmas makes me feel guilty. Still, truth be told, few dwarves have much loyalty left to Lorel. We’re craftsmen above all else. Save for those who’ve gone chasing spirits, most would agree to move, so long as they’re asked directly. Put that to him, will you?”

“I’ll raise it with him. But, you know what he’s like. He’ll be thinking about the risk of weakening Lorel as a nation and whether our gain justifies their loss.”

“Hmph. Ever the one to worry over grand designs. Well, whatever comes of it, right now we lack hands. Hyuman, demi-human, it doesn’t matter. Anyone with an interest in smithing should be diverted here as soon as possible. Weapons, tools, buildings, stonework, the list is only growing longer.”

“I apologize for the strain. I’ll draw up possible assignments today and see who can be shifted over.”

“Much obliged. I’ll also get some notes ready on dwarven communities I know of within Lorel: character, specialties, resources. Young Master may find them useful.”

“That would help. Thank you. Now then, Eva, let’s be on our way. And you know the schedule: bedtime as always.”

Eva, who had been listening earnestly until then, twitched at the sudden declaration. The others were already heading back toward the city.

“B–Bedtime as always?” Eva asked. “Um, forgive me, but I don’t think I’ve slept properly in three days. Could it be that this is what you consider a normal night’s rest?”

“Of course. You’ve been given a full hour each night. And you have been taking the supplements, haven’t you? Those are to keep your body from failing.”

“I’ve been taking them! Which is why my body feels absurdly energetic while my mind is collapsing into dust! How long am I supposed to live like this?!”

Eva had assumed this was only temporary, a few days of frantic work until the worst had passed. But to be told this brutal regimen was the norm… Her resolve finally cracked, and the protest burst out of her.

“For how long?!”

“Until you’ve grown enough that our help is no longer necessary, of course. You’re like a fully grown adult who can’t even crawl. So you’d better start putting in some serious effort.”

“You’re calling this crawling?! There’s no way we can just go along with such a reckless training regimen! And Raidou-sensei doesn’t even seem that knowledgeable about politics or management, you know?!”

“What a pointless argument. What does Young Master have to do with anything? Tell me, Eva, can your crawling crack the earth beneath you? Ridiculous,” Ema said. “Now, straighten your back and walk with dignity.”

She spared Eva only a single scornful glance, then strode ahead without waiting.

Trailing behind her, Eva walked with stiff legs, forcing herself to stretch out a spine that threatened to curl inward from sheer anxiety.

Just as she caught up, the lizardfolk and the orc began to speak.

“Eva, becoming the representative of an entire nation is no simple feat. Knowledge, wisdom, and strength are the bare minimum, even now, while our country is still untouched by foreign affairs. Once diplomacy begins in earnest, it will be far more demanding. Unless you grow faster than the pace Ema-sama’s pushing for, the future of Kaleneon will be bleak.”

“Indeed. You don’t possess the kind of overwhelming charisma needed to unite the hearts of the people. Remember, these citizens weren’t born here; they chose to gather in this land. Unifying them won’t be easy, but it must be done. For that, you need knowledge, wisdom, and strength. Of those three, knowledge is the easiest to attain. So study. Hard.”

The winged folk and the dwarf added their own unflinching counsel.

“Nobility, royalty… All these ideas about ruling based solely on bloodline, that’s where your pampered thinking comes from. If you plan to govern and lead others, you’d better start showing you’re actually worthy of that role.”

“Perhaps your wish was half-mad to begin with, but it came true. And now, you must bear the consequences. Don’t you dare try to run away.”

A twitching, crooked smile froze on Eva’s face.

Maybe, maybe it’d be easier to just go mad, like back in Rotsgard, she thought, and her face must have betrayed exactly what she was thinking.

“Madness, huh? That might not be such a bad idea,” the misty lizardfolk said with a disturbingly serious expression. “If it gives you the resolve and strength you currently lack, then so be it. Being sane isn’t a requirement for leadership. In fact, it might be the better option.”

Not even the highland orc offered a word of comfort.

“If failure means disappointing Young Master, then lose your mind if you must, but succeed no matter what.”

“Whatever you do, the path ahead won’t change. But if you face it with sanity, you might at least gain more joy from the outcome,” the winged folk added with a shrug.

“And you’d better not coddle her,” the dwarf snapped. “That girl bears the weight of Kaleneon now. She made a pact with Young Master himself. Thinking she can escape by going insane? That’s unforgivable.”

Ema didn’t even need to finish her sentence. The others’ eyes said the rest. Every gaze bore down on Eva like silent judgment.

Her shoulders slumped. Her head drooped.

The restoration of a fallen kingdom.

A miracle.

And yet, it happened.

So whatever the price would be, no matter how steep the cost, she had no choice but to pay it.

This is absurd, Eva thought as she stared forward, forcing her feet to keep moving.

If she could go back and meet her past self, she’d grab herself by the collar and scream: Get your head out of the clouds!

That feeling of regret nestled quietly in her chest as she marched on.

※※※

A thick fog blanketed the surroundings.

She knew it wasn’t an unusual phenomenon in this area, but today of all days, she would’ve preferred clear skies. Fog was the last thing she needed.

Arms crossed, Rona stood silently, waiting for their guest.

Beside her loomed a giant with four muscular arms. He stood just as still, eyes closed, his towering presence radiating tension. Behind them, several rows of fully armed demon soldiers stood at attention, ready to act.

The giant opened his eyes. A faint twitch. Then, his gaze fixed forward.

“They’re here?” he asked.

“Seems so. Three of them,” Rona replied.

“I really wish we had better visibility today.”

“I agree. Meeting that one in this kind of fog is frankly unnerving.”

“Our guest, huh.”

“It would be rude to call him the Wicked One. He clearly dislikes the term. ‘Raidou’ would be more appropriate.”

“Thought so.” Rona turned her head slightly. “Io, don’t start anything before we reach the capital, okay?”

“Shouldn’t you be telling yourself that, Rona? After what he did, so effortlessly, I’d be hard-pressed to feel hostility, even if I tried. I’m not angry, just terrified.”

“It’s not every day the ace of the demon generals admits fear, and yet, we’re meeting him in the heart of our own territory.”

Rona let out a quiet sigh.

Even she, who prided herself on intelligence gathering, couldn’t fully grasp this “guest.” Her discomfort showed, a rare vulnerability she only allowed herself when he wasn’t around to see it.

“We’re about six miles from Kaleneon, the place where Left went missing temporarily,” she continued. “He still doesn’t remember what happened there, and our reconnaissance missions…”

“Turned up nothing. All we found was a cliff that hadn’t existed before. No idea whether there’s a bridge or not.”

“You lost men, didn’t you?”

“Any unit that went too deep vanished entirely. Not even a trace. I doubt those people are involved, but the timing is just too suspicious.”

“Then we wait for Left’s memories to come back. Kaleneon holds no real value for us. If there’s no greater threat, there’s no need to throw more lives away.”

“As frustrating as it is, that’s the only option right now.”

Though I’ll allow a bit of unofficial interference from outside the military, Rona thought to herself.

“However,” Io murmured, “if the abnormality in Kaleneon truly is connected to them as you fear, and on top of that, they chose this exact location to meet us.”

Rona fell silent, her focus intensifying.

“Then the Kuzunoha Company and Raidou are not to be taken lightly. Though the man himself doesn’t strike me as the scheming type.” Io’s expression darkened. “But perhaps that’s the point, they have no need for tricks.”

“Yes,” Rona replied softly. “It seems they’ve arrived.”

The quiet conversation came to a halt. Both Io and Rona straightened their postures, their expressions shifting to formal composure.

Through the fog, three shadows emerged—first vague outlines, then distinct forms as the mist parted.

“Have we kept you waiting?”

The man in the center offered the question with a hint of apology, his tone mild as he addressed the two waiting demon generals.

“Not at all. You’re a little early, in fact,” Io replied respectfully. “Welcome, Raidou-dono, and to your companions as well. We appreciate your understanding regarding the travel restrictions. Due to security concerns, teleportation isn’t permitted within our territory. The capital is still quite a distance away, but we will escort you personally. I am Io, a demon general in service to His Majesty.”

“And you remember me, right?” Rona added with a warm smile, her tone casual in contrast to Io’s stiff formality. “Rona. Also, one of the demon generals. It’s been a while, Raidou. His Majesty has been looking forward to meeting you. Thank you for accepting such an unreasonable invitation.”

While Io’s greeting was strictly by the book, Rona’s was far more personable. The contrast was plain, stern professionalism beside graceful charm.

“I’m Raidou, representative of the Kuzunoha Company,” he replied with a polite nod. “It’s a pleasure. These are my followers, Mio and Shiki, as I think I’ve mentioned.”

“Mio. A pleasure,” said the woman to his right. She was dressed in a black kimono, her black hair cascading past sharp, indifferent eyes.

“Shiki, at your service,” added the man on the left, robed in white with dusky red hair and a calm, genial smile.

Even their introductions reflected their personalities, Mio’s cool detachment and Shiki’s relaxed politeness.

“Very well. It’ll be a journey of several days. Let us begin,” Io declared.

At his signal, the demon soldiers moved in precise synchronization, forming a protective circle around the group.

This was a land where, for more than a decade, no hyumans had dared set foot. And ahead of them lay a place untouched by hyumans entirely—an unexplored, forbidden domain.

Raidou, representative of the Kuzunoha Company, stepped forward.

Chapter 8

The White Desert left quite the impression, but it’s becoming clear this world is still full of strange and wondrous places.

Fantasy, indeed.

After being welcomed by Io and Rona, we began our journey together—a trek that would span several days.

The first day brought a snowstorm, which wasn’t too surprising for the north. Still, the daily cycle was normal, and the snowfall eventually gave way to calmer skies.

Monsters occasionally ambushed us, but the demon soldiers handled each one with efficiency and grace. Some of the creatures resembled the ones that showed up near Kaleneon, so I took the chance to observe their tactics, hoping to learn something.

The real surprise came on day two.

Around midday, the light began to fade. Not gradually, but suddenly.

Within an hour, the sky turned pitch-black, as if night had fallen all at once. The ground beneath our feet was frozen solid in places, forcing us to press down with each step just to stay upright. And the snowfall, it didn’t fall so much as pummel the earth with violent force. It didn’t feel like a place hyumans were ever meant to traverse.

Yet the demons moved forward without pause. They showed no signs of confusion or concern, calmly deploying thermal barrier spells and pressing on. Apparently, for them, this was business as usual.

Life in the far north is something else.

From midday onward, we traveled through a frozen wasteland under what felt like eternal night, an eerie, unforgettable experience.

Then came the third day, if you could call it that.

Morning never arrived.

Since sometime yesterday afternoon, the sun had slipped away completely. A place without daylight, no wonder it’s so cold.

That brings us to today, where, for the first time on this trip, a ripple of unease ran through the demon soldiers.

Another monster attack. Not unusual in itself, it had already happened several times, but this time, something was different.

The creature that appeared was massive: a huge, muscular lion covered in pure white fur. It exuded a powerful presence, far beyond the monsters we’d encountered so far.

I hadn’t heard of anything like this showing up near Kaleneon. Several male lions rushed in from the shadows.

The moment they leaped at us, I finally understood just how enormous they were compared to the demon soldier who stepped forward to intercept. I’d estimate each beast was about the size of a full-size van. And they were fast.

One of the demon soldiers tried to reposition, scrambling to reorganize the formation, but he was crushed between one of the creatures’ jaws before he could scream.

Some managed to hold their ground, but the man who stepped in front of me wasn’t so lucky. I’d only spoken to him in passing during the journey, a word or two exchanged over meals or during camp, but his death sank straight into my chest like a dull weight.

I don’t know if this counts as honoring him, but at the very least, I should take this thing down.

I stepped forward, ready to fight, but Shiki raised a hand, stopping me.

Glancing over at him, I saw him quietly shaking his head.

What’s that supposed to mean? I wondered. But I obeyed and held my position, deciding to observe for now.

In the end, both Io and Rona joined the front line. With their power added to the mix, the white lions were brought down.

That wasn’t the only incident. A string of unpredictable attacks followed. Monsters far stronger than anything we’d seen earlier began appearing, and the escort unit started taking noticeable losses.

Our pace remained steady, and the barrier keeping out the cold held firm, but the soldiers were clearly wearing down. Their armor was scuffed, their expressions tense. Signs of strain were everywhere. Looking back on it, the whole situation felt… off. Not just dangerous but unnatural.

Finally, we stopped to take a break, resting inside a tent Shiki had prepared.

Rona had generously offered tents for us as well, but we declined.

I had already mentioned that we’d bring our own, but apparently, she still brought spares, just in case ours weren’t equipped to handle the brutal cold.

“Did you really know it would be this cold?” I asked Shiki once we were inside. “This thing’s seriously heavy duty.”

“Yes,” Shiki replied. “Most of the demon realm experiences polar night during winter. I had this tent crafted to deploy instantly and withstand the majority of known extreme environments.”

Polar night… If I remember correctly, that means the sun doesn’t rise at all, even during the day.

It made sense. Even if their territory had expanded through conquest, the original demon lands really were that harsh. Kaleneon’s winters were brutal, too, but next to this? They probably seemed downright mild.

“Thanks. Really. But do you think it was okay to refuse the demons’ offer? They did go out of their way to have stuff ready for us.”

“Exactly,” Mio said. “Since we retreat to the Demiplane at night anyway, it might’ve been more courteous to accept their hospitality.”

Ah, Mio agrees too. That probably means there’s something deeper going on here.

Could it be, that if we’d accepted the demons’ tents, they might have used it to gather information on us?

“All they did was prepare for the possibility that we’d be underequipped,” Shiki said coolly. “And frankly, I have no desire to rely on anything prepared by Rona.”

Yep. Just as I thought.

“Well, that bit about Rona was a joke,” he added dryly. “Given our respective positions, she wouldn’t do anything like that during this journey.”

Good thing I didn’t say, “I knew it,” out loud.

I really wanted to ask more, but something about the mood made me hesitate.

Thankfully, Mio didn’t. Her question came sharp and to the point: “And why exactly not?”

Shiki nodded, as if he’d been waiting for that.

“Because we’re invited guests,” he explained. “And Rona is acting on behalf of the Demon King, guiding us here under his direct orders. Like it or not, she’s loyal to her monarch. She wouldn’t risk dishonoring her mission, not even for an edge over us. Even if we had used her tent, she couldn’t have tried anything.”

“But couldn’t she just be subtle about it?” Mio asked, her tone bored. “Do it without getting caught?”

“I’m here,” Shiki replied simply. “She knows the risk of me noticing. She’s also seen Young Master’s power firsthand, anything careless would backfire. Badly. She knows that too.”

Shiki really understands her.

It’s not quite familiarity, though. More like a cat and a dog, constantly at odds.

“Haaah… what a hassle,” Mio muttered, sighing under her breath.

She’d been grumbling more lately, probably because the meals during the trip weren’t nearly up to her standards.

“By the way, Young Master,” Shiki said suddenly, lowering his head with an unusually solemn expression. “I apologize for overstepping earlier.”

“Huh? No, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.” I tilted my head slightly. “But why? I was just trying to help, that’s all.”

“Exactly that, Young Master. That whole encounter, it was Rona’s doing.”

“Huh?”

“Perhaps she didn’t plan the exact number, but it’s clear she intentionally allowed powerful monsters to attack us. Her goal was to draw out an offer of assistance from you, specifically.”

Wait, wait. That’s way too paranoid. Even their own soldiers took serious damage.

I started, “Come on, that can’t be right.”

“Can’t it?” Shiki’s gaze sharpened. “Think back. Even without our help, they managed to handle everything on their own. Every single time.”

The white lion, the Yukijishi, and that icy-scaled dragon, the Frost Dragon. It’s true, the demon soldiers, even battered, managed to defeat them without us lifting a finger.

But, is that really proof?

“I have a bit more evidence,” Shiki continued. “Despite the brutal weather and the chaos of battle, they never let their cold-resistant barrier falter. Even when they lost manpower, they instantly reformed their formation. You could chalk it up to impressive discipline, but to me, it looked more like they prepared for exactly this.”

“Now that you mention it…” Mio’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her voice went low. “During the fights, a few of their soldiers kept glancing in our direction. Rona barely looked, but she was still subtly watching.”

I hadn’t picked up on any of that.

Too dark. Too cold. Too much snow. I wasn’t even watching properly, was I?

Yeah. This one’s on me.

“Indeed.” Shiki nodded. “They can’t ask us for help directly. But if we volunteer, they have every reason to accept. It gives them a chance to observe our strength, and more importantly, shared combat builds camaraderie. And trust.”

“So, Rona was willing to let her own men die just for that?”

“She calculated the risk. If they made it through, great. And the ones being treated now, those are the lucky few who survived. That was likely within her margin of acceptable loss.”

“They’d go that far just to test us, or win us over?” I asked, frowning.

“It would seem so. Sacrificing soldiers to gain even scraps of information, offering the kind of reception reserved for honored state guests. She’s very interested in us.”

For what, though? It just feels excessive.

“I mean, I’m just the representative of a small trading company,” I pointed out. “Doesn’t this all seem a little too much? They sent two demon generals.”

“Exactly. And did you notice the way Io introduced himself, and how Rona greeted you?”

I had.

Well, sort of. There was something odd about it, something just slightly off, but it hadn’t registered until now.

I nodded. “Yeah, something did feel off. Io acted like we were meeting for the first time, while Rona was way more casual, like back before the mutant incident.”

“Exactly,” Shiki said. “Io likely wants to erase the capital incident from the record, if possible. Meanwhile, Rona’s demeanor is her subtle way of saying, ‘This is the real me, before things got complicated.’”

“That’s a little too convenient, don’t you think?”

Still, if that’s what they were aiming for, then I was right not to blurt out, “Wait, we’ve met before! In the capital.” That would’ve thrown Io’s whole plan under the carriage.

“The Demon King will probably say something to that effect later, but I believe that’s the gist of it,” Shiki said. Then he paused, narrowing his eyes.

“In other words, they want to wash away the awkward history and build a fresh, friendly relationship. It seems the demon race is seriously interested in both you and the Kuzunoha Company. At this rate, they might even throw a parade when we arrive in the capital. Kufufu.”

Don’t you “kufufu” me!

Shiki’s turning into Tomoe Lite, and I’m not okay with that. She was supposed to be the dramatic one, not him. If Shiki goes full shamisen and monologue, I’ll lose my last emotional support.

“A parade, huh. A party would at least have some value,” Mio said bluntly, her tone making it very clear what kind of value she meant.

Yeah. Food. It’s always food.

“Mio-dono,” Shiki replied, amused, “a parade without a banquet is unthinkable. Feasts are a fundamental part of hospitality.”

“Then it’s acceptable,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I permit the parade.”

You don’t get to permit anything, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

“From what I know of demon cuisine, they serve things like raw meat shaved thin from frozen cuts and a lot of dishes that use flavored ice as the base. When I last visited, that was all I tried, but in a place with such extreme conditions, I imagine there are more specialties we haven’t seen yet.”

“Are we getting to the capital today?” Mio asked.

“No, I was told we’ll be stopping in a nearby settlement tonight. We’ll reach the capital tomorrow,” Shiki replied.

“Then I look forward to it, Young Master,” Mio said with a satisfied nod.

“Ah, yeah. Me too. Looking forward to… uh… ice cuisine.”

But cold food in winter? Really?

Sure, eating ice cream under a kotatsu is a classic combo, but still, this wasn’t cozy. It was a frozen death-scape.

I reached over and cracked the tent flap open just a little, peeking outside.

An endless field of ice stretched before us, visibility completely gone in the swirling snow. The sky was starless, ink-black, and filled with howling winds that tore through the night.

The only sound that filled the land was the roar of the wind.

Yeah, with a view like this, frozen meat and ice dishes just don’t sound appetizing at all.

※※※

A click echoed as the door shut behind her.

“Luto! Seriously, you…”

The woman burst into the room like a storm, her voice rising into a furious barrage of half-coherent accusations.

“What were you thinking?! Dropping a Lancer egg out of nowhere, throwing the entire desert into chaos, and calling me an aunt?!”

She was older, yes, but that didn’t quite explain her sudden transformation. Just moments ago, she’d carried herself with elegant composure. Now, she was practically tearing off her hood in a frantic rush to get in Luto’s face.

She fumbled with the buttons on her coat, yanked off her hooded robe, and tossed it carelessly onto the nearby sofa.

“Tsk. That’s quite the greeting, Sazanami. After so long, you barge in here yelling like this?” Luto raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Ah!” Sazanami gasped, immediately realizing her mistake. She turned toward the person who had just stood up from the couch, and went pale.

She had thought Luto was alone.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone else was here, I just… Wait.” Her apology trailed off into a stunned silence.

“Right on the mark,” Luto said. “Well, almost. I knew if it was Makoto-kun, he’d pull it off! I knew it. I just wish I could’ve seen the scene for myself, damn shame the desert’s off-limits to me too.”

Luto stepped forward, beaming from ear to ear, utterly unfazed by the outburst.

Sazanami, however, was frozen. Her eyes locked on the unfamiliar-yet-familiar woman who’d risen from the sofa. Her mouth opened. Closed.

Then: “You’re, Shin? But something’s different.”

“Aye. I was Shin,” the woman replied with a faint, nostalgic smile. “But that was before. I’ve entered a Contract of Domination with a certain hyuman. So now, I serve him. Loyal and absolutely obedient.”

“A Contract? Of Domination?” Sazanami’s voice cracked in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said the other woman, unfazed. “That’s why I go by Tomoe now. I even accompanied my master to the imperial capital recently.”

“Oh, really? If you’d stopped by, I’d have at least offered you some tea,” Sazanami replied with a little smile. “So secretive. Still, I suppose I can’t blame you. Things were… complicated on my end, too. I’m sorry for not making time for you, especially after you finally left the Wasteland to visit.”

For a moment, her stern expression softened.

This was Gront, a Greater Dragon, one of the oldest beings in the world, also known as Sazanami. She hadn’t expected to run into an old companion like this, and therefore hadn’t quite caught up to the situation yet.

Luto chuckled, lounging on the opposite couch from Tomoe. Then, turning his attention to the still-standing Gront, he asked casually, “So, Gront? You didn’t just come here for a trip down memory lane, did you?”

“Right, Luto!!!” she snapped back, as if finally remembering why she’d stormed in. “That hyuman! What is he?! You gave him a Lancer egg! A Greater Dragon egg! To a hyuman, of all things!”

“Yeah, but he’s strong, isn’t he?”

“Th-That goes without saying!”

“Stronger than me?”

“I certainly felt more hopeless than I did back when you and I fought,” Gront muttered, reluctantly.

“Haah, thought so.” Luto let out an exaggerated sigh and flopped back against the couch. “That hurts, you know. To hear that from a fellow Greater Dragon? Makes me wonder what kind of monster Makoto-kun’s turning into.”

Even as he said this, he looked amused and proud.

“Makoto? No, he introduced himself as Raidou,” Gront corrected, tilting her head.

“Either works. Kind of like how I’m Luto, the Myriad Colors, just two names for the same guy. You can think of him as Raidou, if it helps. No need to overthink it.”

“I see. Then… No, wait!” Gront snapped, catching herself before she got swept into Luto’s rhythm. “That doesn’t explain anything! I expect a full explanation. Who’s that hyuman who moves like a walking lethal weapon?! Why has Lancer become an egg?! And more importantly, why do I have to look after the damn thing?!”

Gront dropped heavily into the seat beside Tomoe, squarely across from Luto, her entire posture radiating tension. Her eyes blazed.

Luto? He just smiled, unfazed, and turned leisurely toward Tomoe instead.

“You know, Tomoe,” he said with a casual tilt of his head, “this is actually amazing. Right now, we’ve got a bunch of Greater Dragons all gathered in a room at an adventurer’s guild. Feels like a summit or something, doesn’t it? Like a ‘D Five’?”

“It’s more like a ‘Three,’ in practice,” Tomoe replied dryly.

“Aw, close. If Gront had brought Lancer along, we’d be at a full ‘D Six.’”

“As if adding more dragons who can’t even speak would mean anything.”

“But it is a rare turnout, you know? Attendance has been pretty terrible the last few centuries.”

“Luto!!!” Gront’s voice cracked, her fury wasn’t cooling in the slightest. “Stop with the nonsense! You’re not talking your way out of this! I’m not letting it go!”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You want answers about Lancer. I’m getting to that. Here.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Luto reached somewhere and pulled out two dragon eggs, placing them gently on the table with a hollow thunk.

Gront blinked, her jaw slack.

She recognized them immediately.

“This one’s Yomatoi, the Night Clad,” Luto said, pointing. “And this one’s Bakufu, the Waterfall. Aaand, sorry! Looks like all the Greater Dragons who aren’t sitting here right now have already been hunted down!”

“Eh? Wait, what?”

“First it was Mitsu, well, Lancer, technically. Then Bakufu, then Yomatoi, and finally, Akari, the Crimson Lapis. One by one, they all got taken out.”

Gront stared in disbelief, “I-I haven’t heard anything about this!”

“Well, yeah.” Luto shrugged. “Someone was targeting Greater Dragons. So, you know, we had to be careful with how news got out.”

“Wait, don’t tell me…” Her eyes widened in horror. “You’re saying that hyuman, Raidou did it?!”

“Huh? Oh, nah, not quite,” Luto said, waving his hand dismissively. “He wasn’t the culprit. He’s the one who stopped it. Cleaned the whole thing up. When the dust settled, all that was left were the eggs. Lancer didn’t even have anyone left to guard him, so I figured I’d ask you to look after it. And since Makoto-kun happened to be headed that way, I asked him to deliver it.”

“The culprit, who was it?”

“Well…” Luto let out a sheepish chuckle. “Embarrassing as it is, it was a half-blood—part hyuman, part dragon. Someone who inherited my blood a bit too strongly. They’d absorbed the power of the dragons they defeated and, well, went completely off the rails. Even Gritonia’s hero kid nearly died. Really, I feel terrible about it.”

“Gritonia’s hero? Oh, you mean the charmer.” Gront sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to her forehead, wincing as if nursing a sudden migraine. “I was actually planning to leave Gritonia for a while and rejuvenate myself because of that one.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Luto said with a shrug. “Given the current state of things, maybe hold off on that. Once it all settles down, I don’t see a problem. Especially you, since you can reincarnate with your memories intact. That technique of yours, by the way, I’d love for you to teach it to me someday.”

“You don’t need it,” she snapped. “You already live without aging through other absurd means. Anyway…”

“Anyway, what?”

“That hyuman. The one who went up against a monster that had absorbed the power of four Greater Dragons. How did he beat it? You helped, didn’t you?”

Luto leaned back, grinning. “Nah, he took it head-on. Straight up brute force. I didn’t help much, just swooped in at the end to finish it off after he’d done the hard part. And because of that, I’ve been roped into helping him out with personnel and other support. But honestly, he’s such a fun kid to watch; I don’t really mind.”

Gront’s eyes went wide again. Her jaw slackened, hanging open like a broken hinge.

Next to her, Tomoe sat quietly, hand over her mouth, visibly struggling to contain her laughter.

“Luto,” Gront said slowly. “Is this another one of your jokes? I don’t even know where to start taking you seriously.”

“Hey, come on. Give me some credit. The only mischievous part was the message I passed to Makoto-kun.”

“Message?”

“Yeah. I told him: ‘My aunt Gront lives in Gritonia. Drop off the Lancer egg to her and ask her to take care of it.’”

“So it was you! Aaaaaarghh!!!”

Gront slammed one foot up onto the table, grabbed Luto by the front of his robe, and began shaking him violently back and forth.

Her movement was so fast and precise, it could’ve been mistaken for teleportation. Easily her finest motion of the day.

“Gront. Wait. Calm. Agh. Down!!!”

“How can you expect me to calm down?!” Gront howled. “That was the first time in my life I felt genuine despair, you know?! My breath couldn’t even rustle his clothes! My spells hit, but didn’t reach! Some of them were canceled before they even activated! I slashed him with claws, bit him, smashed him with my tail over and over, and all he did was scratch his head, looking apologetic! Like he felt bad for me!”

“Aaah, so his mana construct is that durable now, huh?” Luto winced. “And it’s stabilizing too. Scary stuff.”

“‘Scary’ doesn’t begin to describe it!” Gront screeched. “When I finally went in for a full-force sweep with my claws, he just caught them with one hand, and they shattered! You have no idea how much that hurt! Look!”

Still dangling Luto in the air, she shoved her right hand in front of his face.

Her fingers were long and elegant, but just as she said, the nail on her forefinger was cracked and splintered. It was a painful sight, enough to make anyone grimace in sympathy.

“He didn’t offer to heal you?” Tomoe asked casually, sipping her tea.

“Oh, he did! All apologetic like. ‘Would you like me to heal it?’ But how the hell was I supposed to say yes to that?! I’m sitting there exhausted, beat up, humiliated, and then he casually throws me aside like it was nothing, only to ask if I want healing? The only thing I could manage was to puff myself up and say, ‘Don’t patronize me. What do you want?’ That was it! That was all I had left!!!”

Tomoe chuckled. “I see. With a dragon that crushed, Young Master likely didn’t press any further.”

“I do have some pride as a Greater Dragon, you know!” Gront snapped back, then paused.

“Young Master?” Her brow twitched. For the first time, she turned to actually face Tomoe.

“I did mention that I visited Gritonia, did I not? I went there as part of my master’s retinue.”

“Right, you said…”

“My master,” Tomoe added with a faint smile, “is a man named Raidou.”

The air dropped to freezing in an instant.

Well, to be more precise, the one who froze was Gront. The rest of the room had been loud and chaotic only because she had been. Now, it was dead silent.

“What did you say?”

“I said it earlier, did I not?” Tomoe replied calmly. “I entered into a Contract of Domination with a hyuman. That hyuman is Raidou, or Makoto-sama. He is my master.”

Gront’s face went blank. She blinked several times.

Then, like a delayed explosion, “A Domination Contract? With a hyuman?!”

“How big a delay was that reaction? What, are you trying to become a late-blooming comedy act in your old age?” Luto laughed.

“Wait, but, you, you’re telling me, you, a Greater Dragon, are serving a hyuman? Under a Domination Contract? That boy, Raidou?”

“Aye, that’s exactly what I said,” Tomoe replied. Then she gave Gront a side glance. “Oh, and don’t drop Luto, now. Keep holding him like that.”

Gront blinked, realizing her grip had slackened in shock.

“H-Hey, Tomoe,” Luto said, voice a bit nervous. “Weren’t we talking about having a nice little Greater Dragon drinking session tonight? You even mentioned you had some of your famous brew, didn’t you?”

He smiled awkwardly, hoping to redirect the conversation and escape his impending doom.

“Of course I did. That wasn’t a lie,” Tomoe replied. “But, you see…”

Her gaze shifted. Gone was the calm glint in her eye; in its place burned a sharp, menacing gleam as she looked past Gront and directly at Luto.

“Before our banquet, I have a few questions I want answered. Then again, you’ve already confessed, haven’t you? Guiding Young Master into dropping Gront’s personal taboo? And in such a way that he’d keep repeating it by accident? That was well played.”

“I-I mean… Listen!” Luto stammered. “It’s not like I thought Makoto-kun would actually kill Gront! And obviously, Gront can’t kill him either! I knew it’d be fine! Think about it, if you really want to understand someone like him, isn’t combat the most honest way?”

“And thanks to that, I now bear deep wounds in both body and pride. Not to mention hearing that taboo name over and over again.”

Gront’s knuckles trembled with fury as she tightened her grip around Luto.

“Gr-Gr-Gront. Please, let’s talk this out. Greater Dragons don’t gang up on each other, right? Right?!”

“Don’t worry,” Tomoe said with a wicked smile, exchanging a silent glance with Gront. “Tonight’s sake will be rich enough to heal even those wounds. So for now… You understand, don’t you?”

“I do,” Gront replied with a calm smile that did not reach her eyes. “Tomoe, right? We’ll be having a nice little chat with this tasteless idiot. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course. And naturally,” Tomoe raised a clenched hand, “with our fists.”

“Fists, yes,” Gront echoed, matching her tone. “And once I’m done, then I’ll let him heal my claw. I need to release my pain and rage all at once.”

“You were planning this from the start, weren’t you, Tomoe?!” Luto accused.

“You overstepped this time, Luto. But worry not, there’s still plenty of night ahead. Why not take a little break now?” Tomoe asked.

“Yes, I’ll make sure you understand exactly how terrifying that fight was!” Gront added.

“Wait, no, I’m seriously behind on paperwork, I don’t have time, Aghaaaaaaa!!!”

That night, the sake Tomoe brought did indeed soothe the throats of two dragon ladies.

As for the third participant…

Well, it seemed that sake did nothing to dull his pain.

Chapter 9

The parade. It really happened.

Not in a convertible car, but in an open carriage so gaudily decorated it could’ve rivaled a festival mikoshi back in Japan. From the city gates all the way to the castle, we were dragged along in a grand procession. By far, this was the most humiliating ordeal I’d faced since arriving in this world.

Never in my life had I so desperately wished I’d brought a mask.

At the very front, Io rode slowly on a towering black warhorse, perfectly matched to his stature. Flanking our exposed little spectacle was Rona, poised and composed as though the entire thing were routine. For them, this was home. Nobility and pageantry like this were probably second nature.

But me? Back in Japan, I was just another civilian, and here, I was no more than a merchant. Expecting me to handle an event like this was absurd. My face twitched with embarrassment until I forced it back into something resembling neutrality. All I could do was empty my mind and endure.

What surprised me most, though, were Mio and Shiki.

Mio carried herself with detachment, her expression as smooth and dignified as if nothing at all were happening. Shiki went even further, meeting the cheers directed his way with a warm smile, even raising a hand in a gentle wave as if he belonged on a stage.

Honestly, these two are amazing.

And then there was the crowd. The people of the demon kingdom were a revelation. Their values, their way of looking at others—it felt different, fresh.

As soon as the parade began, both sides of the broad street swelled with a sea of blue-skinned onlookers, every eye fixed on us. Among the three of us, the one whose power usually showed most clearly was Shiki.

My own magical body was concealed, my mana suppressed to the point of being nearly undetectable. That was why, despite my placement making me look like the star attraction, the crowd’s gaze on me was puzzled, even skeptical. Their eyes on Mio were curious, probing. But when they looked at Shiki, it was with pure awe, their breath escaping in collective sighs of admiration.

Before long, even Mio began drawing stares of admiration and respect, her calm poise impossible to ignore. And then, caught between those two remarkable figures, I too ended up the recipient of shining, expectant eyes, most likely because I looked like the one commanding them.

It took less than ten minutes before cheers were raining down on me as well.

Even though this was just my unmasked, ordinary face.

It finally clicked for me: Among the demonfolk, appearance was secondary. What truly defined a person’s worth was the power they held.

They were so different from hyumans. With their blue skin and the horns crowning their heads, demons looked intimidating at first glance. Yet, as expected from beings crafted by the Goddess, they all bore strikingly refined features.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Just how exactly were we being introduced to this crowd? Being welcomed with cheers as if we were some radiant troupe of beautiful elites was, well, more uncomfortable than flattering.

We were eventually led into a castle that loomed above the city like a mountain, then shown into a spacious chamber.

“Fufufu, they really went all out with that parade, didn’t they?” Shiki remarked. “The reception in that village last night was extravagant enough, but I never imagined they would take things this far.”

Shiki, this isn’t funny.

My nerves were frayed to the point where I couldn’t stop sighing. If I let my guard down, a heavy breath would slip out from deep in my chest without me even noticing. Sure, Mio had assured us that this room was free of eavesdroppers and prying eyes, but still, I really needed to keep myself from sighing like a worn-out fool.

Pathetic.

“There were a few shops that looked like they had delicious food,” Mio piped up. “I’ll try to check them out later.”

Oh yeah, that kebab-looking thing smelled amazing. But wait, no! Priorities! The first thing we should figure out is whether we’re even allowed outside in the first place, Mio.

“Outside, huh. I’ll ask later if it’s possible,” she said. Then her gaze shifted. “Anyway, Shiki, about the reception in that village last night. Was that part of their plan, too?”

That village, standing resilient against the blizzard, had welcomed us with open arms. At the time, I assumed it was simply because the Demon King’s retainers, generals, no less, had arrived. But now I wondered. Was there something more behind it?

To me, the whole thing had seemed simple enough: Ah, so even the outlying villages support the Demon King. That was as far as I’d thought it through.

“Of course,” Shiki replied smoothly. “Even beyond the capital, the demons stand united. The Demon King is a benevolent ruler, and this parade is meant to showcase his people’s unity. A display that says, ‘If the Demon King has welcomed these guests, then naturally, we’ll celebrate them too.’ More than that, it demonstrates the people’s faith in their ruler.”

“So wait, if they’re making such a show of it, does that mean the reality is different? That he’s actually a tyrant?” I asked.

“No,” Shiki said, shaking his head. “The Demon King truly does govern justly, not only for the demons but for all demi-humans. You noticed, didn’t you? Though demons are most numerous here, there were plenty of demi-humans as well. Did you see how naturally they mingled among the crowds welcoming the parade?”

“Yeah, you’re right. In that case, they wouldn’t even need to make a point of it. You can see it at a glance.”

“Perhaps,” Shiki said. “But consider this: Even during a short stay, they want Young Master to gain some understanding of the demonfolk. If they were the sort to show only their best side and hide the rest, that would be a different matter. But in this case, their openness may be to our advantage.”

“That sounds like trouble brewing,” I muttered.

Shiki smiled faintly. “Not at all. If anything, it seems the demons want you to judge them properly for yourself, Young Master. That suggests they won’t waste time on divisive schemes. Still, I’ll stay vigilant and support you fully.”

“Indeed. Do your best, Shiki. I’ll leave that side to you,” Mio said with calm finality.

Wait a second, Mio. If you’re leaving it all to him, then what exactly are you planning to do?

Shiki, however, took it in stride. “I’ll rely on Mio-dono to handle Young Master’s protection, and to rein him in, should he grow reckless. As long as I refrain from displaying the full strength of Larva, they may even be willing to probe us more carefully instead of assuming we’re hiding something.”

“All right then. I’m counting on both of you,” I said.

With that, the tension inside me eased, if only a little. At least Mio seemed committed to playing her part, so I could breathe easier.

Even so, nerves gnawed at me.

When I’d met high-ranking figures in Rotsgard, it had been during an emergency, and I barely had time to feel nervous at all. But this, being formally invited and paraded through the streets as if baptized into the capital’s gaze, was another matter entirely.

Back in Gritonia, events had spiraled so quickly that I never had the luxury of nerves. Besides, Tomoki had, well, distracted me thoroughly enough that there hadn’t been room for tension in the first place.

A sudden knock interrupted my thoughts.

Whoa. Here it comes.

“Pardon the intrusion. The Kuzunoha Company’s representative, Raidou Misumi-sama, the audience hall is ready.”

The voice was crisp and resolute; the words delivered with military precision. My chest tightened under the weight of that formality. Deep breath. In, out. Calm down.

“Ah, yes! I’ll be right there!” I answered hastily.

Shiki opened the door for me, and we stepped into the corridor. Waiting outside were four figures: two armed soldiers and two well-dressed demons who clearly weren’t soldiers.

Four people just to escort me? Or maybe those two in the nice clothes are officials?

My gaze lingered on them, and when they noticed, both inclined their heads in a polite bow but offered no words.

The contrast between the two was striking, like Aqua and Eris standing side by side.

The taller one was a man with neatly cropped indigo hair, a pair of impressive horns that curved like those of a goat, and an air of quiet dignity. He looked older than me, but not by much, maybe in his mid-twenties. His smile was gentle, his presence calm.

Beside him stood someone younger, smaller. A girl. A long curtain of straight blonde hair framed her face, and from it peeked a single, not-yet-fully-grown horn. Her lips curved in a smile, but her eyes were sharp and watchful, studying me, measuring me.

Well, at least she doesn’t radiate that scheming, up-to-something vibe Eris had. That’s a relief, I guess.

I couldn’t quite pin down who they were, but maybe this was just part of demon etiquette. Explanations would come later. For now, standing around making small talk with my escort would only be rude. And since Shiki had assured me these people weren’t the type to spring an ambush, I resolved to follow their lead.

“This way, please,” said one of the armored soldiers, speaking formally.

“Of course,” I replied.

And so we started down the corridor, lit so brightly by lamps that it looked like broad daylight.

Eternal night, City of Unending Darkness, kind of has a cool ring to it, doesn’t it? Or City of the Polar Night works too.

As we walked, every person coming down the opposite side of the hall, regardless of rank or dress, stepped respectfully aside, bowing their heads as we passed.

The attention made my skin crawl.

The discomfort didn’t last long. Soon, we reached a massive, gate-like door, flanked by imposing figures radiating authority. Soldiers? No. Knights, more likely. Their very presence screamed rank and power.

The two finely dressed demons who had been trailing quietly behind us stepped forward, joining the lead soldiers in a hushed exchange near the great door. So, they were the higher-ranking ones, after all.

Before I could think further, the immense doors opened soundlessly, as though enchanted. A faint glow shimmered over their surface.

Beyond, a red carpet stretched deep into the chamber.

Oh wow, this is definitely the audience hall.

Led forward, I was about to cross the threshold when a sudden realization struck me.

“Um, excuse me,” I said quietly, edging closer to the man with the gentle smile. “If there are any basic rules of etiquette I should know, I’d appreciate it if you told me.”

“Ah, there’s no need to concern yourself,” he answered warmly. “It’s only natural you’re unfamiliar with demon customs. If you show respect to our king in whatever manner you deem fitting, Raidou-sama, that will suffice.”

“I-I see. Thank you.”

So basically, even if I mess up, they won’t hold it against me. Good enough, time to go.

I straightened my back, took a breath of courage, and stepped forward.

The man who’d spoken to me and the watchful girl beside him veered off along the carpet’s edge, continuing deeper into the hall. Were they to attend the audience as well? If so, having their reassurance gave me at least a sliver of confidence.

Head held high, I walked firmly down the scarlet runner.

Mio and Shiki followed a few paces behind, silent shadows at my back.

Ahead, the carpet ascended into a broad flight of steps. At the top sat a grand jade throne—ornate, commanding, and on it…

Okay, so that’s the Demon King. He’s sitting there, looking all imposing and…

Wait.

He wasn’t sitting.

He was standing.

No, more than that.

He’s coming down the stairs?!

Eh?! The Demon King actually does something like this?

No, calm down. Don’t get flustered. This could be part of his strategy.

I nearly quickened my pace in panic, but forced myself to keep walking at the same steady rhythm as before. Surely, when I reached the proper place, someone would signal me to stop; one of the attendants lined up neatly in front of the stairs. Inside, my mind was in chaos, but outwardly, I moved with measured composure.

The figure I assumed to be the Demon King continued descending, unhurried, closing the distance with every step.

This is all wrong! Not what I saw coming!

Fine, panic later. For now, just don’t trip over your words—that much, at least.

The space between us shrank rapidly. Come on, someone stop me already! If a merchant meeting a king for the first time ends up face-to-face at this distance, isn’t that way too improper?!

My silent plea went unanswered.

My own feet finally stilled, because they could go no farther.

There he was, standing directly before me. A grand mantle swept across his chest, catching my eye before anything else at my level.

Looking up, I met his gaze.

He was younger than I’d imagined. Perhaps not yet forty, the age at which I’d always thought a man reached his peak, where maturity and vitality overlapped.

Short golden hair, brushed back neatly from his forehead—from above his ears, curved, thick, ram-like horns.

Our eyes locked, and in that instant, I understood.

The force of his presence was undeniable. This was a king.

If we fought, I could probably win.

Yet, in every other way, I felt utterly unable to measure up.

His eyes weren’t sharp like blades meant to pierce but wide and steady, encompassing, as though to embrace all they saw.

Then his face broke into a smile. Far from softening him, it only made him seem greater still. The sheer weight of it pressed down on me, and I had to consciously stop myself from retreating a step.

That was when I noticed it.

His hand was extended toward me.

A handshake. Reflexively, I raised my right hand, meeting his grip. His clasp was firm, reassuring, brimming with strength.

“Welcome to the city of the demonfolk,” he said warmly. “Well met, Raidou-dono. I am the lord of demons, though the world calls me Demon King. My name is long and troublesome, so for your sake, simply remember me as Zef.”

The Demon King’s voice carried through the hall as clear as a bell.

“Zef-sama. My name is Raidou Misumi. I trade under the banner of the Kuzunoha Company, nothing more than a humble merchant.”

That was fine, right? I didn’t say anything strange, did I?

“Mm. I regret that you were forced to endure such a grueling journey to reach us,” Zef said, his tone solemn yet warm. “But with the war still raging, it couldn’t be helped. For that reason, while you remain in this city, I swear you shall lack for nothing. Even the offense committed by my subordinate in the past shall be repaid in full.”

“Your gracious words are more than enough,” I replied quickly. “As for the incident with your general, I regard it as nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding born of war. Please don’t trouble yourself with thoughts of restitution.”

“‘Born of war’… To hear you frame it so is a kindness, indeed. Still, hospitality toward guests is our natural duty. I would have you enjoy yourself here to the fullest. And tell me, these two with you are they members of your company? Subordinates of yours, Raidou-dono?”

“Ah, forgive me! I should have introduced them first. This is Shiki, and this is Mio; both are my companions, ever lending strength to one so inexperienced as myself.”

At my words, Mio and Shiki each bowed formally before the Demon King.

“I am Shiki, a member of the Kuzunoha Company, here in service to my master,” Shiki said with composed dignity.

“And I am Mio,” she added simply.

“Oh, splendid,” Zef murmured, eyes narrowing with interest. “You both radiate great strength. Truly enviable. No, enviable is too small a word. Of course, it is only natural that a man of Raidou-dono’s caliber would command such retainers.” His lips quirked as he caught himself. “A slip of the tongue, forgive me.”

“I assure you, it’s nothing of the sort,” I said quickly. “I rely on them constantly. Without their aid, I would accomplish little.”

“Even so,” Zef replied, “it is vexing that I cannot gauge the depth of your own strength. If you conceal it, then I must assume it surpasses even my ability to discern. That alone proves your power. It seems the invitation I extended to the Kuzunoha Company has become a true stroke of fortune for the demonfolk. I am deeply grateful.”

“Your words honor me beyond measure.”

A low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Hahaha, enough of this stiff ritual. Audiences like these only wear you down, Raidou-dono. Let’s move to a more comfortable place, where we may talk freely.”

Ehh?! It’s not over yet?!

“Yes, of course,” I said, forcing a nod. Then, hesitating for a beat, I added, “If I may, would it be acceptable for my followers to stay with me?”

“Of course, your companions may join us,” Zef replied smoothly, then added with a thoughtful nod, “In fact, I shall summon some of my own family, several of my children. It is rare to hear directly from a hyuman merchant. That perspective will be of great value. Do you mind?”

“Your children? Not at all. I have no objection,” I answered.

So, princes and princesses, then. Come to think of it, between Princess Lily of Gritonia and Prince Joshua of Limia, I’d already gotten oddly used to dealing with royalty. Now, I could add the Demon King’s sons and daughters to the list.

Kuzunoha really is getting famous, isn’t it? Or at least, I am.

“Then let us go,” Zef said, then turned and strode off, his cape flowing behind him.

“Z-Zef-sama is leading the way personally?!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them.

“It’s not far,” he replied casually. “Ah, and you must not have eaten since your arrival in the capital. I’ll have some light fare prepared.”

His eyes flicked toward Mio.

I glanced at her too; she didn’t look disgruntled or hungry, but at the mention of food, her expression softened, becoming almost pleased.

With a sweep of his mantle, Zef moved toward the doors through which we had entered.

Whoa, whoa, being left behind by the Demon King himself? That would be a disaster.

I quickened my stride just enough to keep pace, resisting the urge to outright sprint as I hurried after him.

※※※

“So then, the Kuzunoha Company. Interesting people. What do you all make of them?”

The meeting chamber carried the scent of food and wine. A broad table was laid with plates of finger foods. The dishes before the Demon King and his staff remained largely untouched. But the plates at the three now empty seats, Raidou, Mio, and Shiki’s, had been picked clean.

The guests had been escorted out, and the conversation concluded.

“A beast that eats meat, no matter how tame, can never offer a guarantee that it will not turn on man. That’s the impression Kuzunoha left with me.”

The first reply came from one of the two demons who had gone to fetch Raidou earlier, the tall man.

“Then tell me, Roche: How would you deal with Raidou and with his company?”

“He said it himself: True cooperation is impossible. But there’s no need to wake up a sleeping giant. We should engage with them only when necessity demands it and otherwise avoid standing directly in their way. Fortunately, they seemed to show no inclination toward exerting themselves on behalf of the hyumans.”

“So, cooperation is impossible. Yes, that much is plain.” Zef gave a low chuckle. “What did he say, something like, ‘We will not take the side of any force in this war. Even if our actions seem to favor one side, it is only because those actions benefit us. We have no intention of lending strength to any opposing power.’”

Roche dipped his head in assent.

“I found Raidou’s words especially dangerous,” said another voice, calm and steady. It belonged to a woman whose composed presence commanded attention. Unlike the others, she wore light armor, the steel glinting faintly under the lamplight. Her eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the Demon King.

“Lucia,” Zef said. “Do you believe Kuzunoha will rise as a third power?”

“Not yet, Your Majesty. I would not claim so far. But their presence is unsettling. As though a sword were hanging above us, point angled down.”

“You mean Raidou’s warning of ‘If attacked, we will retaliate’? That troubles you.”

“Yes. He said it plainly: He would not forgive anyone who laid hands on his own.”

Zef exhaled softly, thoughtful. “I think his words lacked a certain preface. Likely what he meant was: We will not take the initiative to oppose anyone, but… And from there came his promise of retaliation.”

“However!” Lucia pressed, her voice sharp. “As Your Majesty yourself noted, Raidou spoke of the possibility that they might one day act against us. And more than that, he implied we should overlook it if it happened.”

“Hmm.” Zef folded his arms, gaze distant. “I wouldn’t say his words carried the selfish intent you suggest, Lucia, but I will grant there were certain phrases that raised doubts, especially when compared to the intelligence we thought we possessed on him.”

“I maintain,” Lucia said firmly, “that unless Raidou and the Kuzunoha Company make their stance clear, black or white, I oppose forming any close relationship with them.”

Zef gave a slow nod at her final words, then turned to a third advisor, who had thus far remained silent.

“I see. Well said. Sem, what’s your view?”

The demon called Sem adjusted the spectacles perched on his nose. Locks of silver hair were bound neatly behind him.

Raidou had felt a secret flicker of kinship when first seeing those glasses, a “fellow wearer.” Not that it mattered now, since his own pair had long since been stashed away during his trek across the Wasteland.

Sem’s narrow eyes opened just enough to meet the Demon King’s, and he finally spoke.

“My opinion bears some resemblance to Roche’s, but I would go further. I believe we should, in fact, strive to build a deeper relationship with them.”

“Oh? That’s a stance quite opposite Lucia’s,” Zef noted.

Sem turned his gaze briefly toward her, yet the armored woman showed no irritation, no scorn, only closed her eyes, maintaining a quiet, steady composure as though prepared for any difference in judgment.

“Our positions differ by nature,” Sem continued. “Were I in Lucia’s role, charged with defense of the realm, I suspect I would share her caution. But as my duty lies in diplomacy, my perspective compels a different conclusion.”

“Very well. Let us hear it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Though it was regrettable that Raidou-dono himself didn’t answer many of my questions, I consider Shiki’s replies representative of the Kuzunoha Company’s stance. Reviewing that exchange, I’m now convinced: Their capacity for material transport far surpasses our own. Possibly by an extraordinary margin.”

“What’s your basis for that conclusion?”

“They endured the journey here, through some of the harshest regions of demon territory. This is a land where even seasoned travelers struggle, and yet…”

“Sem,” Zef cut in, his brow lowering. “That does not answer the question.”

“Ah, forgive me. I let my words run long again. A poor habit of mine,” Sem offered with a rueful dip of the head. “To be concise: Despite the arduous journey they must have endured to reach us, when I asked Shiki-dono whether certain goods could be procured and delivered here, he answered with just a nod almost every time. His quoted prices were perfectly reasonable, nothing more than cost plus a fair margin.”

“Go on.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Those prices failed to account for the extraordinary costs of transporting goods to a place like this. Hazard pay, losses, and the risk inherent in such a journey should have driven the numbers far higher. And yet they did not. What’s more, both he and Raidou spoke as though even perishable items, fresh produce or meat, posed no obstacle to their supply lines.”

“So, you believe Kuzunoha possesses a means of transporting goods swiftly, safely, and without difficulty,” Zef summarized.

“Precisely. If they can truly move supplies across vast distances without loss, their value as a trade partner is immeasurable. They could become the ideal counterpart for commerce. The only question is whether our markets hold enough appeal for them, but even there, I see little problem. To a hyuman like Raidou-dono, the specialties of demon territory must seem exotic and valuable. Of course, anything touching on military secrets would remain off-limits, but otherwise…”

“Then your opinion,” Zef asserted, leaning forward slightly, “is that we should build ties with him, treat him as one who could enrich the demonfolk.”

“Yes,” Sem affirmed. “Our people, and the demi-humans who chose to live alongside us, have laid the foundations for a prosperous nation. Yet our logistics are insufficient for the breadth of our lands. With the Kuzunoha Company as an ally in trade, our supply lines could reach even the farthest corners of our territory. They would become like veins carrying blood to every part of the body.”

“So the demonfolk have yet to circulate their lifeblood to every extremity.” Zef’s tone darkened faintly with self-reproach.

“Rapid growth always creates distortions somewhere, Your Majesty. The fault lies in the limits of my own ability. Ideally, we wouldn’t depend on any outsiders, but I believe this case is different. If Kuzunoha’s prices hold true, if they can flood every corner of our domain with resources, then enduring a war of attrition against the hyumans would no longer be impossible.”

To a ruler carrying burdens too numerous to count, the Kuzunoha Company might have seemed like a lifeline, a hand extended in salvation.

“I see. I will take your words into account,” Zef said after a moment. Then his eyes shifted to the final figure who had yet to speak. “That leaves you, Sari. I had thought you would speak first, considering you were the one who requested to attend.”

The young girl who had escorted Raidou remained silent, lips pressed into a firm line.

“Tell me,” Zef prompted gently. “Having seen them with your own eyes and spoken with them, what did you feel?”

“Well…”

Her expression was pensive; she was lost in thought so deep it seemed to weigh on her whole being. At last, she moved her hand away from her lips, lifted her face, and said, “Those people, no, more precisely, Raidou himself, are extraordinarily dangerous.”

“Hmm.”

The opinion aligned with Lucia’s. Zef found it unexpectedly conventional for someone who had shown such curiosity. But Sari had more to say.

“My expertise lies in the analysis of information. Yet this time, after meeting them, I will speak not only from reason but from instinct as well.”

“That’s fine. Speak what’s on your mind. What did you sense?”

“They are power without rails. A force unchecked. Overwhelming yet unbound.”

At her words, every eye in the room narrowed.

“Abstract. That’s unlike you, Sari,” Zef observed.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. But in the end, that’s the only conclusion I could reach. As beings of power, the Kuzunoha Company cannot be ignored. On that point, I stand with my brothers and sister.”

Roche, Sem, and Lucia each inclined their heads in agreement.

“As Rona’s earlier reports suggested, they are deeply compelling, too compelling, perhaps. They are powerful, undeniably so. But that very allure makes them dangerous. They could inspire, yet they could also threaten the demonfolk.” Her voice wavered for just a moment before regaining steadiness. “In short, I find it difficult to phrase this precisely. But I felt that for all the strength they possess, they are far too unstable.”

“Unstable,” Zef repeated softly.

“If I am forced to put my impressions into words, then yes, unstable. Dangerously unstable and utterly beyond control. Raidou declared that he would lend no aid to either side in this war, take no part in choosing allies. As Sister Lucia said, that’s no different from living beneath a suspended blade. And yet, as Brother Sem pointed out, his strength is also a perfect cure for several ailments that plague us.”

“Then does your conclusion not match Roche’s?” Zef asked. “Monitor the risk but engage when necessity demands it.”

“I fear something beyond that,” Sari answered quietly.

“Beyond?”

“I compared Raidou to a power that cannot be controlled. Imagine, then, if that power were to suddenly turn against us. If one day, without warning, Kuzunoha stood on the hyumans’ side.”

“Would it not be enough to ensure things never reached that point?”

“We cannot predict the movements of the uncontrollable,” Sari said firmly. “Should we, in the midst of war with the hyumans, stumble unknowingly upon the line he guards so fiercely, Raidou would bare his fangs at the demonfolk without a moment’s hesitation. So I ask you, Majesty, can we defeat the Kuzunoha Company?”

Her words skirted the edge of insolence, chilling the chamber.

Zef didn’t bristle; he didn’t even raise his voice. He simply met her gaze with unshaken calm.

“I do not know. But most likely…”

“Most likely?”

“Most likely, no. At best, we could strive not to lose. Remember, this is the man who faced both Io and Rona, the pride of our demon generals, without flinching. He brushed Io aside with half his attention while still keeping the battlefield in his grasp. Neither his aide nor his subordinate can be called ordinary by any measure.”

The three siblings—Roche, Lucia, and Sem—stared wide-eyed at their king.

Only Sari accepted his words in silence, lips pressed tight.

“So, you see him as a force beyond control,” Zef murmured. “Perhaps that is indeed the most fitting description. My own view is that he is a sleeping dragon. Yet if we merely tiptoe to avoid waking him, that may itself prove a poor strategy.”

“He needs a collar,” Sari said at last. Her voice was steady, certain. “Not just any collar, either. One that serves as insurance, not only for us, but for the entire demon race.”

“A collar for what can’t be controlled?” Zef asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Sari replied without hesitation. “Fortunately, he has no one guiding his will as of yet. At least, he is not a man who could ever be handed over to the hyumans. For us, this timing is a rare stroke of fortune. It is worth the attempt.”

“To make Raidou into the demonfolk’s watchdog, then. A very different stance from the others,” Zef mused.

“No. If we can manage merely to keep the leash drawn tight enough that he does not bite us, that alone would be the best result. He cannot, I think, be truly domesticated.”

“Fuh, hahahaha!” Zef’s booming laughter echoed through the chamber. “Even after seeing so much in him, you still speak so bluntly. Well, they will remain in the capital for a time. There is no need to let such gloom dominate your thoughts. Short though it may be, time is still on our side.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Still, all reports until now suggested that Raidou rarely declared his stance or his alliances so strongly. For him to show such firmness now… If something happened to change him so drastically, I cannot help but resent the cause. As he was before, he might have been easier to handle.”

“His unyielding tone was unexpected for me as well,” Zef admitted. “And because he declared it outright at the very start, I doubt it was mere whim. Someone must have meddled, provoked him in some way. Troublesome, indeed. Enough, let us adjourn. Your frank opinions were valuable. You may go.”

The Demon King’s words drew the council to a close. Four demons filed out, leaving Zef alone in the chamber.

“Hm,” he exhaled, the sound almost a chuckle. “It seems they grow more formidable by the day. If not for the Kuzunoha Company, then no matter what befell me, the future of the demonfolk would remain secure. But as it stands, everything hinges on Raidou, on Kuzunoha. That rendezvous near Kaleneon, no, that could not have been a coincidence. There are more surprises yet to come. To think I was able to meet him before the heroes pulled him into their orbit, that is true fortune.”

His muttering faded, and the pleased smile upon his lips vanished. The mask of the king slipped away, leaving only Zef, a lone demon, standing there.

“Raidou, it has been a long time since I last felt cold sweat on my skin. To think you are a being whose strength I cannot even measure. At the very least, beyond the spirits… closer to a god than to any hero.”

A single bead of sweat traveled down his cheek.

Zef’s eyes were wide, his body rigid. For a long while, he did not move at all.

Side Story: The Dawn of Kaleneon ~Adventurer Arc~

The Adventurer’s Guild of Rotsgard.

Rotsgard, being an academy city, enjoyed a relative stability that extended to its surrounding regions. The guild’s primary role here was supporting academy students rather than managing serious threats. In places where no unexplored wilderness remained, and public safety reached a certain standard, demand for adventurers was naturally low.

Thus, only a small number of professionals called the Rotsgard branch their true home. Most requests that reached their counters were the simplest, low-risk tasks unworthy of a seasoned hand.

Yet, for reasons beyond simple logic, this very guild also bore the title of the Guild Headquarters: the heart from which every adventurer’s guild across the world drew authority.

Because of this, if an adventurer was summoned here, whether for good or ill, it signaled an extraordinary turn of fate.

Even to receive a mere message from one’s local guildmaster, “Headquarters requests your presence,” was enough to send shock waves through an adventurer’s life. Most would immediately rearrange every commission they had undertaken, entrusting their clients to replacement parties with full guild support, then hurry to Rotsgard.

That was the reaction to a normal summons.

Now imagine stepping through the doors of your guild, only to have the branch master personally hand you a sealed notice. A letter carrying not only a call to headquarters but the seal of a Special Summons.

A command that overrode every other contract. A notice backed by the guild’s resources, with transfer-circle usage already paid in full. A letter that ordered you to appear immediately, no excuses permitted.

For an adventurer, such a summons left zero room for choice.

Today, that extraordinary measure erupted all across the land. Every guild, in every region, delivered such notices on the same day. It became a commotion impossible to ignore.

Even more shocking was that the recipients weren’t limited to active adventurers. Some had long since retired, yet they, too, received the summons. And that fact alone turned a commotion into a full-blown incident.

The adventurers who received the summons rushed obediently to Rotsgard, reported to the guild in the still-recovering city, and then settled in, wondering what trial awaited them.

I don’t understand. I don’t know a single one of these people. Meeting the Adventurer’s Guild master, Fals, is terrifying enough on its own. What in the world is about to happen?

Thierry Lokaze, a seasoned adventurer whose home branch lay in a provincial city in eastern Gritonia, trembled as he clutched the parchment. The summons bore the unmistakable mark of authenticity, Fals’s own signature. He had been among the first to arrive in Rotsgard, yet panic gnawed at him still.

He was not alone; six others had been called to face the guildmaster alongside him. He knew none of them. Among the group were three demi-humans and at least one hyuman so clearly retired that Thierry wondered why he had been summoned at all. No pattern bound them together.

Everything in Thierry’s life should have been ordinary. Winter always brought an uptick in requests, and this year had been no exception. His contracts were proceeding smoothly, almost enviably so. He had done nothing that might warrant this. No past commission sprang to mind as a possible cause.

“Thank you all for waiting. We appreciate you answering the sudden call.”

A woman had entered the room, and she bowed crisply as she spoke. “This way, please. Guildmaster Fals is ready to speak with you.”

No answer formed on Thierry’s lips. No resolve solidified in his chest. And yet the door opened, and he found himself being ushered through.

Led forward, the seven adventurers entered and came face-to-face with Fals.

A small man, young.

For a fleeting heartbeat, most of them were simply taken aback at his appearance.

This guy? That’s Fals? He’s barely older than a…

Before Thierry could finish the thought, his face froze, muscles locking tight. He was one of the first to sense it.

Because Fals moved, or rather, because Fals let something loose.

An overwhelming aura surged outward, thick with mingled mana and fighting spirit, saturating the chamber in an instant.

Later, every one of them would describe the sensation the same way: like the hot, rough tongue of an ancient dragon scraping across their skin.

By the time Fals’s lips curved into a smile, every trace of disdain had vanished from the adventurers’ faces.

Cold sweat streaked down every one of their brows, without exception.

“Welcome. First, let me thank you for answering the summons,” Fals offered lightly. “I am Fals, guildmaster of the Adventurer’s Guild. Today, I’ve prepared for you a rather interesting choice, one that could change your lives. I ask that you consider it seriously.”

A choice, or a command?

Every single person in the room understood it would be whatever Fals decided it to be.

“Heh, no need to be so tense,” he added with a quiet chuckle. “It’s nothing more than a proposal. Your standing won’t be affected by whether you accept or decline. You’re not the only ones called, after all. Several hundred adventurers across the land received the same summons. For me, if even forty percent of the first wave agrees, that will be more than enough.”

Several hundred. Forty percent acceptance.

The words washed away just enough of the tension to let the seven breathe again. Relief crept in, not because the situation was safe but because at least they weren’t alone. They hadn’t been singled out.

“Of course,” Fals went on, “those who accept will face certain restrictions but also considerable rewards. Since information leaks cannot be tolerated in this matter, each of you will decide today in a separate chamber. All necessary details are prepared there, enough for you to make an informed decision.”

Decide today?!

For Thierry, it was the first moment doubt pierced through the haze of intimidation. Until now, he’d just been trying his best to keep pace with Fals’s words, swallowed whole by the pressure. But being forced into a life-altering decision without time to reflect, that was something he didn’t feel ready for.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure. Although the other six kept silent, their stiff postures and shifting expressions said it all.

If Fals noticed their unease, he gave no indication.

“Tell me, have you heard of the nation called Kaleneon?”

The name dropped into the room like a falling anvil.

Kaleneon.

Once, it had been among the vassal states of Elysion, the great nation that stood as the beating heart of faith in the Goddess. But Kaleneon was supposed to be gone, extinguished alongside its suzerain, Elysion. It had never been a name of great renown to begin with.

The seven adventurers all exchanged puzzled looks, heads tilting.

Thierry’s mind came up blank. Born and raised in Gritonia’s eastern reaches, he had never even set foot in the capital. His life was rooted in a mid-tier city, fifth or sixth in rank, perhaps, and his work rarely carried him farther than neighboring towns. He was what adventurers called a “city-bound” type, tied to a single home base. The opposite of the “wanderers” who drifted from land to land. Both were valid paths, neither greater than the other. But whichever path one walked, neither demanded detailed knowledge of long-fallen border nations.

“Hmm, if I recall correctly…”

The hesitant voice came from the eldest among them, a man who appeared not to have seen much action in his years.

“Oh? The Green Plains Sage himself, Reinbell Flurie. Do you know something of it?” Fals’s eyes gleamed with recognition.

“That you would know the name of one such as I, I am honored. Though I cannot claim certainty, I believe there once was a nation named Kaleneon that perished alongside Elysion. At least, that is what I seem to recall.”

Fals’s smile widened. “As expected of one whose hobby is studying the histories of the Five Great Nations. Correct. Kaleneon once stood far to the north of Stella Fortress.”

Reinbell nodded, relieved to be shown to be correct.

The words that followed from the guildmaster’s lips struck all seven adventurers with the same jolt of disbelief.

“Or rather, it still stands.”

“What?!” several voices burst out in reflex, forgetting entirely that they stood before the guildmaster himself.

Fals only laughed lightly.

“Haha, I understand why you’re surprised. Personally, I’d say the best way to put it is that Kaleneon has risen again. Until recently, it was little more than a resistance movement, after all.”

“M-Master, what exactly do you mean?” Thierry managed to stammer, his mind struggling to catch up.

“In Kaleneon,” Fals explained, “volunteers of every race who loved that land resisted demon rule for years. And now, just recently, they’ve succeeded in driving the demons out. They’ve begun calling themselves Kaleneon once more. Or to use their words, Kaleneon was never a fallen nation to begin with.”

“With respect, Fals-sama…”

The speaker was a lion-faced beastkin. His words were careful and formal despite the strain in his tone.

“If we’re speaking of lands far north of Stella Fortress, that’s territory completely under demon control. You say this nation declared itself anew, resisted in isolation, united across races, and at last reclaimed its land?”

Fals nodded. “Exactly so, Jiona of the beastkin city Ong, the Axe and Blade himself.”

“Even when Limia and Gritonia pool their strength, when even the hero sent by the Goddess must struggle desperately to reclaim a single fortress from the demons, you mean to say they accomplished such a feat?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible. If true, then Kaleneon itself is the hero. The very fact of its existence would be a miracle.”

“I think so too,” Fals said with a faint smile. “That’s why I want to extend a hand. To lend them strength.”

Jiona’s expression twisted, his disbelief plain despite his own words. Yet Fals pressed on, unfazed.

“The battles with the demons cut their numbers drastically. Their warriors, especially, are depleted. At present, it is not the Adventurer’s Guild but a certain trading company that sustains them, giving everything to keep them afloat. And even with such support, their future remains precarious.”

Jiona fell silent. Victory, yes, but one bought with staggering sacrifice. He could easily imagine the toll it had taken. His lionlike features clouded with unease.

“Through that trading company, a request for aid reached me,” Fals said. “Aid for Kaleneon itself, and for new blood, people willing to become residents of that nation.”

“So, then what you’re asking us…” came a halting voice. It belonged to the only woman among the seven, a hyuman wearing red garments. Her words tumbled forward with hesitation. “Is it about emigration to Kaleneon and offering our cooperation?”

“Aah. After urgent deliberation here, you seven were chosen as candidates. I apologize for dragging you into a matter so secretive that it required this summons, but such is the nature of the request. For example, Tia Barrel.” Fals’s gaze landed on the red-clad woman. “Your candidacy comes from a proven track record, the versatility of your abilities, and a progressive outlook toward the demi-human races.”

To put it bluntly, her numbers scream jack-of-all-trades, Thierry thought, but she’s clever with her skills, strangely lucky enough to survive challenging quests without permanent injury. On top of that, she’s a demi-human enthusiast. Those were the fundamental points in her favor.

While offering Tia the polished explanation, Fals was carefully observing the others as well.

None of them had known each other before today. Their specialties were scattered, their records inconsistent. Just as Thierry had thought earlier, they looked like a mismatched assortment.

Appearances were deceiving.

In truth, Fals had set several criteria for the selection, and only those who fit all of them had made it to this room. Hundreds might sound like a lot, but measured against the entire body of active and even retired adventurers, it was a razor-thin slice. Fals’s earlier words about aiming for 40 percent agreement were meant to ease their nerves. The reality was that each and every one of them had been handpicked with unnerving precision.

Experience working in cold climates. Positive attitudes toward demi-humans and their integration with hyumankind. Past cooperation with others in their home districts. Knowledge useful in the northern wilds. Raw combat ability and temperament.

From every angle, Fals had personally selected those best suited for Kaleneon.

This was not a recruitment drive. It was the final interview.

Though he had told them four in ten was his goal, in his heart, Fals knew that fewer than two in ten would actually refuse.

“In that northern land, where even the word cold sounds merciful, the rebirth of Kaleneon has begun, nurtured by unity across race and creed. I won’t let it fade as a phantom of a single winter. That nation did not perish. It endured, it withstood, and at last, it cast out the demons. And someday, when the heroes who fight the demons arrive, Kaleneon will still stand, proud and unbroken, to greet them. Is that not a vision worth striving for?”

They remained silent.

“Though it’s only a small gesture, I have already dispatched my personal unit to Kaleneon,” Fals continued. “But what that nation needs now is not soldiers—it’s people who will stand as its very flesh and blood. Citizens who will help shape a country. People prepared to support nameless heroes, and in doing so, become heroes themselves. As for whether you have that potential, I already know you all do. What remains is your own resolve. Your decision.”

The Guildmaster’s personal unit. To adventurers, the name alone was legend. Rumor held it was composed only of the finest, most battle-proven elites, the kind of figures most could only aspire to. To work alongside them was both an honor and a mark of prestige. Fals knew exactly what he was doing by invoking their mention.

The seven of them listened.

“If you can embrace that resolve, then I ask you to become Kaleneon’s lifeblood. That is my request to you, and more than that, the commission I entrust to you for the rest of your lives.”

He concluded, “That is all I have to say. A private chamber has been prepared for each of you. Decide there. As I said, refusal brings no penalty. You will be bound to silence for the sake of secrecy, but aside from that, nothing in your lives will change. Take your time.”

At his signal, secretaries filed into the room with crisp efficiency, guiding the adventurers out one by one. Each was led away down a different corridor.

Fals’s smile never wavered.

Above all, you each live narrow lives, with little connection to the wider world. Yet, you carry within you that longing for the word “hero,” for its shine. You know you lack the stature to claim the title openly, but still, the thought lingers: Perhaps as one of the nameless, as one part of a greater story. Perhaps then you too could become part of something greater. That is why this offer will be irresistible, won’t it? I’ll enjoy seeing which way you choose.

As he pondered, his eyes turned to the lone secretary still waiting silently by his side.

“You’ve brought their families, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied with a bow. “They’re already waiting in separate rooms. In addition, all the materials you requested and the details regarding compensation are…”

“Good. The fact that they have few to consult makes them ideal candidates as well. And the barriers?”

“The barriers are prepared as well. If any refuse, their memories will be altered the moment they leave. They will believe they came to receive a third-rank commendation from the Guild. However, Fals-sama, may I ask one question?”

“What is it?”

“I was told this operation stems from a personal request, from a trading company with whom you’re close.”

“Yes.”

“Then, am I correct in assuming that this company has a secret capability to establish supply lines into demon-controlled territory? And, if I may speak frankly, your relationship with its representative also seems somewhat…”

“That’s far enough. You know that I dislike prying, don’t you?” Fals’s voice was soft, but the weight behind it brooked no dissent. “You may speculate about which company it is, you may imagine what capabilities they have. That is your prerogative. But speaking of them, involving yourself with them, unless I grant explicit permission, you will not. Do I make myself clear?”

“B-But surely, at the very least, the Kuzuno…”

“You will not say that name a second time.” Fals’s smile did not waver, but the air grew sharp as glass. “You have neither the standing nor the right to know more.”

“Forgive me. I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. So long as you understand.” His voice lightened again, becoming almost playful. “Now then, let’s bring in the next group. With this many people, we don’t have time to dawdle.”

The secretary fell silent. Fals stretched his arms overhead in a show of boyish ease, as though the tension from a moment ago had never existed.

The truth was simpler.

This was a debt. A favor owed to him.

And for that man’s sake, Fals would see this task done with unwavering resolve.

※※※

Snow regions were a world of their own.

At present, few hyumans could claim true experience living in such an environment. Only a portion of Gritonia and a handful of Lorel provinces bred people accustomed to it. Even the Gritonia Empire, famed as a land of snow, had long relied on the blessings of magic to ease its winter burdens.

Among the demi-humans, few races adapted to deep snow could be found in territories linked to hyumankind.

Snow country was no monolith. Wind conditions, temperature, altitude, terrain; change any one of these, and life itself changes with it. Compared to the Edge of the World, this was merciful, but still, survival in such regions demanded a level of adaptation few possessed.

“Come on, this is nuts. I mean, yeah, I’m used to snow, but three times what Gritonia gets? A flat plain where you can expect three feet of snow every single day? How the hell is anyone supposed to live here?”

“Oh? I thought you were from a pretty cold part of Gritonia in the east, Thierry. Is it really that different?”

“The place where I grew up? A foot at most. You’d whittle it down with reduction spells, and even in the rougher districts, shoveling snow every few days was enough. Here? This is like the deepest Gritonian mountains. And nobody lives there anymore.”

“Hah. True enough. Here, miss a day’s shoveling, and you could be buried alive. Perhaps future magical infrastructure will help, but for now… Even combat is wildly different. I hear the Guild’s direct unit is struggling badly in the interior.”

“‘Different’ doesn’t cover it! You can’t move, you can’t track enemies, and the beasts aren’t just strong, they’re damned cunning. Every hunt is a brush with death. Anyone in that unit trekking into the mountains deserves their reputation; they’re insane.”

Kaleneon, central dining hall.

Despite its name, it served drink as freely as food.

The hall was kept warm and welcoming, a sanctuary from the bleakness outside. Great stoves roared with fires so strong they would have been excessive in any smaller space, but here, they wrapped the hall in a cocoon of heat.

Though it was just past noon, the light outside was already fading, snow still falling without end.

At a small round table, Thierry Lokaze, a former adventurer from Gritonia, talked and laughed with a man seated across from him.

That day at Adventurer’s Guild Headquarters…

Fals’s words had fanned embers Thierry barely knew he carried, until they smoldered hot in his chest. He’d been guided to a private chamber. And there, waiting for him, were those dearest to him.

His wife, Anze. His daughter, Myu.

Alongside them lay a record, listing part of the payment Fals had promised, “the commission of a lifetime.” When Thierry’s eyes fell upon it, his answer became clear.

He spoke long with his wife and his daughter in that room. The only two souls he cherished above his own life, the ones he must protect above all else.

And so, here he was, in Kaleneon. Not alone but with them.

He had never joined a party. He had adventured only for their sake, until the years piled upon him and the Guild called him “veteran.” And in the end, he chose this path: to become part of Kaleneon’s lifeblood.

Even when the waiting secretary reminded him that there would be no going back, his resolve did not waver.

When he left that chamber, two others were waiting: Jiona and Tia. Soon after, Reinbell appeared. Then two demi-human youths of similar age, partners judging by their manner, joined them.

No words were exchanged, but their eyes spoke clearly enough. They had chosen as he had.

Only the last, a hyuman youth, turned Fals’s offer aside. Yet whatever the secretary handed him in farewell seemed to touch him deeply; he left with gratitude shining on his face.

Six of the seven who stood in that room that day now call Kaleneon home.

Day after day, they braved mortal danger and grueling labor, pouring everything they had into making tomorrow better.

Thierry’s wife took up small trades and studied magic; his daughter worked her nimble hands with craft. They did everything they could to adapt.

The environment was harsher than ever before. And yet, somehow, both his work and his time with family felt more vivid, more saturated with meaning than in all the years prior.

“We’re short-handed too,” the man across the table grumbled, his words spilling out with the heat of the liquor he’d just downed. “No matter how we try, we can’t gather all the voices of the townsfolk. It’s damn frustrating.”

“Don’t sweat it, the Guild staff are doing their best. We’re all swamped. What matters is making tomorrow better than today. That’s enough for now.”

“Besides, the young Aensland lady is running this dining hall herself. If she says do it, we do it.”

Thierry’s companion tipped his cup and fell quiet, eyes drifting toward the back of the hall where a young woman darted from stove to counter, barking a string of crisp orders even as she ladled stew and rolled dumplings.

Luria Aensland.

She was the younger of the Aensland sisters, the family that had once formed the core of Kaleneon’s resistance. Luria coordinated food inspection, storage, and the entire kitchen staff; still, she stood at the front of the line, sleeves rolled up, cooking for the people. Rumor had it that she scarcely slept, but her smile never left her face. In this place, she’d become everyone’s oasis.

Her sister Eva used a former demon outpost as their office and oversaw settlement and civil development; together, the two had emerged as the de facto leaders of the reborn Kaleneon. Their family name was already carved, along with their faces, into the gratitude of the people.

“Surviving these storms and taking back all that land from the demons, only an extraordinary few could have done it. That’s why everyone’s still giving their all. Hell, I’d better pull my weight if I’m going to match Jiona.”

Thierry blew out a breath warmed by strong liquor. He’d once been called a veteran who’d peaked; since coming to Kaleneon, he’d felt something else entirely, his strength climbing, not declining. The taste of battle and the thrill of usefulness had restored a younger fire in him.

“Jiona’s method of ‘defensive baiting’, that’s what they call it, works wonders. Even the Kuzunoha Company’s orcs and misty lizardfolk praised it.”

“Yeah. It’s brilliant because almost anyone can learn it. You don’t have to find the enemy first; you lure them to you, then take them down with a counter. If one person lacks raw power, the party makes up for it; timing and focus can be trained. Kuzunoha is on a whole different level, but Jiona’s tactic? Practical and teachable.”

In the deep snow, mobility was crippled. For adventurers, every step was a burden, every movement a gamble. For the beasts native to this land, however, it was nothing. Worse still, many of them possessed terrifying skill in mimicry, their hulking forms hidden until they struck. Hunting such monsters through preemptive assault was near impossible.

Somehow, Jiona, the lion-faced beastkin, had pioneered a way forward.

He had trained himself to bait attacks deliberately, then answer with a single decisive counter, an ara-waza. It was a brutal, high-risk technique turned into an art. His exact execution was unique to him, beyond imitation, but the principle could be adapted. By forming hunting parties, deploying barriers, and unleashing concentrated fire, the tactic became replicable. It was a method that adventurers could use, which was valuable.

Especially so when compared with the inhuman examples they’d been forced to witness. The misty lizardfolk swept aside snowdrifts with their breath and scouted faster than reason allowed. The highland orcs barreled through waist-deep snow as though it weren’t there, their monstrous charges combining unstoppable force with skin like armor.

Those battles offered no lessons, only despair and awe.

“Looks that way,” Thierry’s drinking partner muttered, nodding. “But even beyond battle, Kuzunoha’s support is insane. This land’s an isolated island in all but name, yet they flood it with supplies. Prices? So reasonable it’s enough to make you cry. On top of that, they send people to help with hunts, patrols, even land clearing.”

Thierry snorted, raising a shoulder in mock surrender. “On our first hunt, we swore, highland orcs and misty lizardfolk would never be our prey. Not now, not ever.”

“Out of gratitude? Or out of fear?”

“Both, obviously. And Kuzunoha’ll have me as a lifelong patron too.”

A low chuckle, then his companion leaned in, voice quieter. “But honestly, it’s not like any other merchant will ever come here. Kuzunoha’s monopoly is absolute. They even say they’ll help a local trading house sprout up here in Kaleneon. But how much of that’s genuine, and how much is posturing? Sometimes I can’t help but read between the lines, and when I do, it’s terrifying. Maybe that just makes me small-minded, eh.”

“Their commitment might be real. Hard to believe, even for me. But no matter how this plays out, I’m guessing the Kuzunoha Company is about to become the official supplier of Kaleneon. That alone would be more than worth the investment, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. That’s what I keep telling myself. For now, I’m just going to drown the confusion in alcohol.”

Kaleneon didn’t even have proper roads leading to its borders, and most of its land was locked under deep, impenetrable snow. Moving supplies in and out was an ongoing nightmare.

Yet, in this frozen tundra, Kuzunoha sold fruit and vegetables so fresh and vibrant they might as well have been plucked from a local spring orchard. Even more baffling, they sold them cheaply.

To the people living here, Kuzunoha’s presence was a godsend. But to those watching closely, it was less of a blessing and more of a riddle wrapped in mystery. Actually, no, just a straight-up mystery. No one understood how they did it.

Even with strict orders from Guildmaster Fals, some staff couldn’t help but feel unsettled. That tension was just part of being competent, part of having a proper sense of danger. It wasn’t exactly wrong to be wary.

Still, the truth remained: More than even the Adventurer’s Guild, the Kuzunoha Company was Kaleneon’s sole lifeline.

The man sitting across from Thierry gulped down his unease with another swig of liquor, trying to silence the doubts clawing at the back of his mind.

That was when the door burst open with a sudden crash, and a woman’s voice rang out like a trumpet.

“Attentiooon!!! Anyone got a free hand?! I need help testing a new type of frost-resistant brick! We’ve got two kinds: one for roads, one for walls. Who can help?”

A gust of snow swept into the warm room behind her, but the woman, bundled head to toe in cold-weather gear, didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, Tia’s helping the dwarves today. Frost prevention, huh?” Thierry muttered, clearly unfazed by the interruption.

No one else batted an eye either. They were used to this kind of entrance by now.

“Good news, really,” someone nearby remarked. “Thierry-san, are you off to training after this?”

“Nah. I’ve got experience in construction and a few skills that match. I’d be more useful over there. I’ll head out.”

“Take care.”

“Will do. Tia! I’m in!” With that, Thierry drained the rest of his drink in a single gulp and raised his empty mug high, signaling his answer loud and clear.

“Thierry! You’re a lifesaver! This one’s a serious piece of work; they designed it not just to melt snow, but also to help insulate interiors. They’re hoping to go through test runs as quickly as possible.”

“I can help too!”

“Me too; I’ve got a free hand!”

Voices rose from all around the tavern as one after another volunteered. As they chimed in, Thierry double-checked the location just to be sure.

“Leave it to me. The test site’s behind the second workshop, right?”

Tia had fully embraced her role as a liaison, not just between adventurers, but between races as well. She worked behind the scenes to strengthen ties, smooth communication, and bring people closer together, no matter their backgrounds. Just as Fals had predicted, she’d found her place in the web of this rebuilding nation.

Still, she sometimes wondered if she’d been maneuvered a little too perfectly into this role, like a pawn placed just so by a chess master’s hand. But those fleeting doubts never lingered long. The truth was, she was thriving. Her skills, her preferences, her passions—all of them clicked into place here like gears in a finely tuned machine. She loved it.

There was no bitterness toward Fals. No regret over her choices. If she ever met him again, while she was still alive, that is, she’d bow her head low and thank him sincerely for picking her.

“This project’s also pulling double duty as an emergency patch job for the west storage wing of the castle,” Tia continued, her voice clear and commanding. “So, anyone heading out, that’s where you’ll go! If you need to go get ready, meet at the guild in fifteen minutes! If you’re good to go now, head straight to the west wing. Thanks, everyone!”

When she said “the castle,” she was referring to the massive fortress repurposed from a demon stronghold, the largest structure in Kaleneon. It wasn’t technically a castle yet, at least not by official standards, but it served the purpose well enough for now.

“Ah, rallying the troops again, Miss Tia?”

As Tia stood with her thumb raised high, her pose crisp and confident, another figure stepped past her. A man just past middle age stopped at the tavern entrance, sweeping the room with a practiced glance.

“Oh, Reinbell. You too?”

He gave a nod in Tia’s direction, then raised his voice with the casual authority of someone used to leading.

“Apologies, but we’ve got a need for someone good with numbers up at the castle. Just for today. Anyone able to lend a hand?”

“Heh. Looks like you’re getting called in too,” Thierry said, turning to the man he’d been drinking with.

“So it seems. Then allow me to lend my help as well, Reinbell-dono! If you’ll have me!”

“Oh, that’s a huge help!!!”

Reinbell, a seasoned former adventurer with a solid grasp of the history and knowledge of the fallen nation of Elysion, had since taken on administrative work in the town, joining the still-thin ranks of civil officials. His background made him an ideal bridge between adventurers and the bureaucrats, someone who could speak both languages, so to speak.

Add to that his personal life: two daughters, a young second wife, and a household that ran as smoothly as any well-oiled machine. Among certain men in Kaleneon, he was half-jokingly revered as a “master of domestic balance.”

Like the others, his face carried no trace of regret about settling in this land.

A sudden cheer erupted from the dining hall, which had just been half-emptied by Tia’s and Reinbell’s recruiting drives.

The cause? A towering figure had entered through a side door, hauling an enormous magical beast over his shoulder.

“Luria-sama! That beast we discussed, this may only be a cub, but I finally brought one down!”

One of the nearby adventurers, eyes wide with disbelief, turned toward the man.

“Wait, Jiona-san, is that from the Eastern Forest?!”

“Aye! That’s the one, the Great Snow Beast! Though, according to a highland orc warrior who was fighting with me, this one’s still just a youngster. Hard to imagine how massive the adults must be, considering this one already ruled a whole section of the forest!”

The speaker was an imposing figure, at least six feet six, with the fierce lionlike features of a beastkin. In the beastkin capital, his homeland, he was known as Jiona the Axe and Blade, and the title suited him.

“Oh my gosh, Jiona-san! You actually took down the lord of the Eastern Forest?! This is amazing! So this is a Great Snow Beast. I’ve read about how to cook it, but I’ve never seen one in person!”

Luria had paused her kitchen work the moment she heard his voice. Wiping her hands clean, she’d hurried over to admire the massive catch, her eyes gleaming with professional excitement.

“Well, I can’t say when just yet,” Jiona rumbled. “But soon enough, this guy, he thumped his broad chest with pride, will bring back a full-grown one. And when I do, it’ll be food for the whole town. For now, Luria-sama, I leave the storage and preparation in your capable hands!”

“Of course! I’ll make sure you’re here when we begin the prep. Thank you again, Jiona-san!!!”

“Y-Yes, of course!”

Luria offered a radiant smile and a polite bow, but Jiona abruptly turned his head away, then strode out of the dining hall with forced composure.

She didn’t seem to notice. Seasoned cook that she was, her thoughts had already moved on to the practical matter of processing the enormous beast he’d brought in. Whatever flustered awkwardness Jiona was battling with, it barely registered in her mind.

“Okay, the blue blood’s probably toxic, so we’ll need to drain it thoroughly and do the organ removal at the same time. Meat aging can proceed using the standard cold storage method. Then, I’ll have to order those things from Kuzunoha. Ah, sorry! Would someone mind helping carry this to the back?”

“Y-Yes, gladly!”

Several nearby men leaped at the chance, hauling the carcass away with enthusiastic efficiency.

“Thank you so much! Now, where was I?”

Still muttering to herself, Luria followed them into the back room, already lost in her culinary scheming.

Outside the tavern, Jiona stood frozen in place as the cool air bit into his skin. A second later, he clicked his tongue, realizing his mistake.

Damn it. I should’ve helped carry it to the back. That would’ve been the perfect opportunity. I just handed the others a golden chance to score points!

His brow furrowed deeply, frustration clear on his face, but then he caught himself. Drawing a long breath, he smoothed his expression, careful not to alarm the passersby with his beastlike scowl.

This strange flutter in my chest, I’ve never felt anything like it in all my life. It’s not just desire. It’s gentler. Warmer. Luria, one of the famed hero sisters of Kaleneon. Supporting the nation alongside her older sister, doing so with such tireless grace. What a remarkable young woman…

If you stood them side by side, it was almost comical. Beauty and the Beast? No, more like Tiny Maiden and the Monstrous Beast. The height difference alone was absurd. The contrast between their presence, light and delicate versus massive and primal, was so stark it defied logic.

And yet, Jiona had fallen. Hard.

I still remember what Tia told me when I asked her about this. A real gem of a line… “You just happened to fall in love with someone from another race. That’s all.” It’s true. So simple and yet so freeing. She even said that the head of the Kuzunoha Company himself, that enigma of a man, was openly supportive of relationships between beastkin and hyumans.

What was it she called it again? Something about…

To love someone small, gentle, and delicate, and to be accepted for it.

As it turned out, Tia Barrel had once unknowingly struck up a casual conversation in the central dining hall with none other than the representative of the Kuzunoha Company. She hadn’t known who he was at the time, just a quiet man with keen eyes and a curious mind, but they’d spoken at length about all manner of things.

Later, when Jiona heard her recount part of that conversation, a particular phrase had shaken something deep inside him.

“Ah, yes, ‘Goho loli,’ that’s what it was called. This sacred feeling I now carry,” he muttered. “Really, I owe Tia a debt of gratitude. Thanks to her, my world and my mind have opened in ways I never imagined.”

It had started when Tia, a bit tipsy one night, had quietly confessed she might’ve fallen in love at first sight with a black, winged folk she’d seen in passing. Encouraged by the drink and Jiona’s supportive nods, the conversation had rapidly spiraled into a passionate exchange of theories, personal anecdotes, and philosophical musings on cross-species love.

Jiona, now thoroughly pleased with himself, nodded with quiet satisfaction and finally departed the tavern, for real this time.

With the constant flow of patrons, the lively din of the central dining hall never really quieted. That chaos, that hum of overlapping voices and clinking mugs, was the rhythm of daily life here.

At the far counter, two figures sat in serene contrast to the noise. A highland orc and a misty lizardfolk, both nursing their drinks, immersed in calm, unhurried indulgence. Neither seemed at all fazed by the earlier commotion.

The orc sipped from a frothy golden ale, poured into a well-worn tankard. Beside him, the lizardfolk swirled a glass of thick, amber-hued liquor that glowed softly in the dim light. They spoke little, simply savoring the rare peace.

One of the seats beside them was vacant until a new arrival claimed it, his presence drawing subtle glances from those nearby.

He moved with quiet confidence, wings folded at his back.

“Schto. You here for the guard shift change?” the lizardfolk, Agi, asked without looking up.

Schto gave a slight nod, having already placed his drink order. Then he turned to them with a cryptic smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Yes. But I also brought a little news worth sharing.”

“If it pairs well with booze, we’re all ears,” rumbled Leek, the highland orc, lifting his mug in invitation.

“Oh, this’ll pair just fine,” Schto replied, voice low and deliberate. “Word is, Young Master will be arriving soon. Not into the city proper, just near the border.”

The two sat up.

Schto’s smile shifted into the mischievous grin of a child who had just pulled off a successful prank. Agi and Leek had reacted exactly as he’d hoped.

“They say two demon generals’ll escort him,” Schto continued, voice brimming with playful gravity. “Young Master is headed toward the old demon capital.”

“Well now, if that’s the case, the unit commanders might get a chance to meet him directly,” Leek mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Might be worth preparing a report or two. Agi, anything new on your end?”

“My superior’s bound to want an update,” Agi said with a shrug. “We’ll probably join the send-off party, so I’ll find something to pass along. Honestly, nothing too groundbreaking, but I’ll review the patrol logs when I’m back.”

“Our side has a personnel surplus incoming,” Schto added, voice low and amused. “Our supervisor was quite pleased with that. Ema-dono, though, she looked rather displeased.”

“Heh heh heh.” The two men chuckled in perfect sync, clearly picturing her reaction.

Ema, highland orc, top-class mage, and terrifyingly efficient chief secretary. Ever since she’d begun mentoring the Aensland sisters here in Kaleneon, her reputation as a merciless drill sergeant had spread well beyond the highland orcs. Even the ever-curious staff of Kuzunoha knew of her infamous temperament.

Just imagining her grimace of disapproval was enough to draw a smirk.

“Something amusing, gentlemen?” called a voice from behind the counter as the three of them rose. The server looked surprised; these three usually lingered far longer over their drinks.

“Oh, just wrapping up early today. Thanks as always for the great drinks,” Leek replied cheerfully. “Seems our Young Master will be visiting the border tomorrow. We’ve got a few things to get ready.”

“Yeah, he won’t have time to come into the city proper,” Agi added. “But our superiors will probably show their faces, so we need to be on hand.”

“And so, we’ll take our leave for tonight,” Schto finished, placing a few coins on the counter.

“Wait, what?” The server’s eyes went wide. “You mean the representative of the Kuzunoha Company? He’s coming here?! That’s huge! Shouldn’t we do something? Decorations? A welcome feast?”

Agi just gave a calm smile and shook his head.

“He’s not the sort who’d want that. Just the gesture is enough. When the day does come that he visits this tavern, show him your heart. That will be more than enough.”

“Truly,” Leek agreed, nodding solemnly. “That’s what would please Young Master most.”

“Indeed,” Schto added.

“R-Right. Well then! Please pass along our deepest gratitude for everything Kuzunoha has done for us!” the server blurted out, voice rising unintentionally.

The words echoed through the tavern. Other patrons, hearing the commotion, turned to see the three men off, offering their own thanks, blessings, and respectful farewells. A wave of sincere emotion rippled through the room.

Just like that, the rumor took flight.

The representative of the Kuzunoha Company is coming.

That day, wherever a Kuzunoha employee walked in Kaleneon, someone would stop them to offer thanks, or even hand over a gift in gratitude.

It was the day before the promised meeting with the demons.

A fleeting moment from the dawn of Kaleneon’s new era.

Author: Azumi Kei

Was born in Aichi Prefecture. In 2012, Kei began serializing Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dochu (Tsukimichi: Moonlit Fantasy) on the web. It quickly became a popular series and won the Readers’ Choice Award at the 5th Alphapolis Fantasy Novel Awards. In May 2013, following revisions, Kei made their publishing debut with Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dochu.

Illustrations by Mitsuaki Matsumoto

http://transparnaut.web.fc2.com/

This book is a revised and published version of the work originally posted on the website “Shosetsuka ni Naro” (http://syosetu.com/)

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