Return (5)
My field training had officially ground to a halt.
Well, with two squad members pulling out, there wasn't much of an alternative. Besides, even if he didn't voice it out loud, Dietrich was clearly beside himself with worry over Helena, so I figured sending him back alongside her was for the best.
Counting Yuna, that made four departures in total.
Only two of us remained.
And so, Lobelia and I ended up returning to the Cradle ahead of everyone else.
As for Yuna... well, she'd manage on her own, wouldn't she? Honestly, for all I knew, she might have beaten us back already.
Which was precisely how I found myself perched alone on the edge of my dormitory bed, immersed in a stretch of deep, solitary contemplation.
“Hmm.”
Truth be told, Helena collapsing was an event that had always been set in stone. The real problem was that the timeline had leaped forward by a horrifying margin compared to what I knew.
I had been measuring the countdown to Helena's breakdown purely in terms of elapsed time, but the truth was that it might have been tied directly to the state of her relationship with Cult. After all, Helena had been arranged as an ordeal specifically meant to forge Cult from the very start. Failing to account for that and running my reckless mouth made me nothing short of an absolute, brain-dead moron.
The Oracle hadn't suddenly materialized just to chew me out for fun.
“Haaah...”
How was I supposed to clean up this mess? It was entirely my fault. A harvest of seeds I had sown myself.
With just a handful of careless words, I had effectively shaved off what little remained of Helena's lifespan. Damn this runaway mouth of mine. I had spent the past year living like a dead man holding his breath precisely to avoid a disaster like this, and now, just because life felt marginally bearable, I went and got cocky?
“Cult and Helena, huh...”
What should I do?
If I intervened carelessly, things could spiral into an even worse catastrophe. Frankly, the situation was already at rock bottom, to the point where I ought to treat this as a bitter lesson and back off entirely. But was I really supposed to just sit back with my hands in my pockets and watch an innocent, clueless child die? Especially when it was practically my own careless remarks that had driven her to that point?
I was terrified enough to feel a tremor in my bones. Yet turning a blind eye and pretending not to see left an intolerable, sickening taste in my mouth. One thought chased another in a vicious cycle, pinning me in place, paralyzed.
Yet the moment I remembered Helena calling me 'Teacher' and pleading for me to help Cult...
Before I even realized it, the trembling had ceased.
“Tsk...”
To borrow Cult's terminology, I was pretty much an infidel. While I might acknowledge that a god existed, I certainly had no faith in the divinity itself. Even so, there was one thing I could say with absolute certainty.
“If this is part of your grand design too, you really are one massive son of a bitch.”
If my decision right now was just another arrangement authored by God, then that guy upstairs possessed a thoroughly rotten personality. Whether I could actually save Helena Hereticus, I had no clue. Nor did I know if I could ever talk sense into Cult Hereticus.
Let's just do whatever I can manage.
That seemed like the best way to keep my own conscience intact.
Even though I had made up my mind, acting rashly was out of the question.
Cult's specialty was reading human psychology and seizing total control over it. Trying to persuade him with half-baked logic would only backfire. In any case, there was still some time left before Helena fully awakened as a Holy Relic. With the schedule pulled forward, there was no telling what new variables might crop up, but things shouldn't be so desperate that we were down to the wire just yet.
We had only done up the first button.
The final button was still a long way off.
So, one careful step at a time.
“Yohan? You're back already?”
The instant I made that resolution, the door swung open and a familiar face popped in. Pink hair, a face overflowing with mischief—it was Yuna.
Wait, why did this punk treat my dorm room like her own personal quarters? I was positive I had locked it, hadn't I?
No, never mind the small details.
“Good timing. You're just who I wanted to see.”
“Blegh. Seeing you actually welcome me means you're about to dump some annoying chore on my head, aren't you?”
“Come on, between friends like us, what's a little favor?”
“What 'us'? Are we having an illicit affair or something?”
“Let's stick with friends.”
“Fine, friends. For now.”
Dropping that loaded remark, Yuna casually plopped down on the edge of my bed. Looking at her now, weren't her actions getting a little too brazenly familiar? As my suspicions deepened, every single thing she did began to look questionable.
“Mmm, but I actually have something important to talk about on my end too, you know?”
“What is it? Something urgent?”
“Pretty urgent, yeah. Yohan, do you have time? Can you come with me for a bit? Showing you directly would be way faster than explaining it with words.”
“Sure, I guess...”
My situation wasn't something that could be solved this second anyway. It was a problem that required steady patience; keeping a cool head was far better than rushing into a panic. If Yuna herself called it urgent, I'd better handle her matter first.
“Follow me, then.”
Yuna hopped off the bed and took the lead, and I trailed behind her. Out of the room, down the dormitory corridors, and straight out beyond the Cradle's grounds.
Around this point, my internal alarms began to buzz. Still, trusting that nothing catastrophic would go down as long as Yuna was at my side, I followed her all the way to the end.
The destination she guided me to turned out to be a rather familiar spot. Following the underground sewer tunnels eventually led straight to the subterranean dungeon where Stan had once kidnapped me.
The moment I recognized our surroundings, a faint, dreadful realization dawned on me regarding what her 'urgent business' actually entailed.
“Yuna... you know I have a weak stomach for gruesome stuff, right?”
“Don't worry about it.”
Was this really something I didn't need to worry about? Placing my trust in the moral threshold of a ruthless serial killer like Yuna felt like a monumental gamble. My footsteps dragged to a crawl—a pathetic, futile struggle to delay the approaching future.
“Aw, hurry up!”
Even that feeble resistance was rendered entirely moot when Yuna grabbed my arm and yanked hard. Half-dragged by her grip, I finally stumbled into the dungeon cell.
And what met my eyes was a heap of rags sprawled across the cold stone floor... wait, no. It was a human-shaped lump.
“Is that a corpse?”
“Nope! Totally alive. Besides, I barely even interrogated her.”
“How much is 'barely'?”
“I only ripped off two fingernails.”
“...”
“I originally planned on pulling them all out, but after the second one, I got a gut feeling. She's not the type to spill anything no matter how many you tear off.”
“I see.”
In that precise instant, the emotional distance between my soul and Yuna widened by a solid league. Was it genuinely safe to keep a creature like this around as a friend? A deeply philosophical doubt took root in my mind.
“So why did you go out of your way to show me this?”
“Talk to her yourself and you'll find out!”
With utter nonchalance, Yuna sauntered over to the collapsed figure, seized a fistful of hair, and hauled her head upright. That unhesitating ruthlessness. The emotional distance expanded another step.
“Ugh...”
“Hey there! It's been two hours, hasn't it? Did you get plenty of rest?”
“Mm... yeah. Usually when I'm working, I only ever catch thirty-minute catnaps, so thanks to you, I feel like I've finally had a good night's sleep.”
Between tangled strands of dull black hair, a pair of golden eyes gleamed. Despite her thoroughly battered state, the razor sharpness in her gaze bordered on spine-chilling. The moment I registered her face, a dormant memory broke the surface.
One of the mid-bosses.
Head of the Andvaranaut Merchant Guild.
Cattleya Tales.
How on earth did Yuna manage to kidnap people like this? Out of everyone in the world, she had bagged the single most pivotal figure available. Plucking the guild master herself out of the endless sea of merchant syndicate personnel was truly a talent in its own right.
“So, is that your boss?”
“Yep!”
“I believe the two of you are under a massive misunderstanding.”
“Isn't it a bit early to cut your losses and disown her? Yohan Damus. In fact, this feels like the perfect time to open negotiations.”
“Wait...”
The moment Cattleya dropped my name, I slowly turned my head toward Yuna. Wondering if this lunatic had leaked my identity, I shot her a questioning glare, but Yuna merely shrugged and shook her head. Which meant Cattleya had known who I was from the start.
“How do you know my name...?”
Feigning sheer terror like a frightened child, I shrank back and asked Cattleya with visible dismay.
“Quite the little actor, aren't you?”
“Actually, there's a decent chance that's not an act.”
“Yuna, you're supposed to take my side! What are you doing?”
“I am taking your side!”
“No, I'm asking why you're suddenly bonding with her!”
Why were the two of them finding common ground right in front of me?! If you dragged me down to a shady dungeon like this, shouldn't you be comforting me instead?!
“Well, it doesn't matter either way. What counts is that we've managed to meet like this.”
“...Why were you looking for me in the first place?”
“Because I want to strike a deal with you.”
“I have nothing to trade with you. I own nothing.”
“Don't be modest. You have information.”
“I have nothing of the sort.”
“Really? Cult told me otherwise. Isn't that right, Prophet? Oracle.”
“...”
Ah, that bastard.
That guy never failed to give me a massive headache in every conceivable way. So he had run his mouth and fed this woman intel about me, had he?
“Don't look so wronged. Word is, you were the one who sold information first.”
“...Mine was a righteous deposition under duress.”
“Sure, let's pretend it was. So, Oracle? How much will it take for you to sell the intel you've got?”
“Hmm... before that, shouldn't you be considering whether you'll even make it out of here alive?”
“Ah, fair point. My mistake entirely. I should have brought that up first.”
Despite my blatant threat, Cattleya merely smirked in amusement.
“Your family's territory looks like a lovely place to live. I'm awfully glad I sent my people there ahead of time. First-mover advantage pays quite handsomely, you see.”
“Are you threatening me?”
If Cattleya disappeared off the face of the earth right here, the agents she had planted would surely launch an attack on my family's domain. Surprisingly, rather than anger or terror, my first thought was sheer relief that I had found out now. Better than being ambushed completely blind.
More importantly, was their target last time not the Aether Ducal House, but us all along? What heinous sin had I committed in my past life to deserve this brand of unending misery? No matter how hard I racked my brain, I hadn't done anything awful enough in my previous life to warrant this!
“Well? Wouldn't you say that's worth trading for my life?”
“Hmm...”
It was an unmistakable threat. Yet the moment she laid down that extortion, my head actually cooled down. My opponent was a merchant. Show an ounce of weakness, and you get ripped off to high heaven.
“Yuna. If you were in our territory right now, how long do you think it would take to round up this woman's lackeys?”
“Wouldn't a single day be plenty? Outsiders always stick out like sore thumbs, no matter how hard they try to hide.”
“You heard her.”
“Amusing. But can you actually pull that off?”
“Of course.”
Of course I couldn't.
Even if we set off this very second, it would already be too late. There was no way we could outpace a merchant syndicate that had already established its logistics routes. On top of that, even if I dispatched Yuna, the territory was completely unfamiliar ground to her, so hunting them down would take time. And it wasn't like I had the combat prowess to dash over and handle it myself either.
However, I had a weapon of my own.
“Because all I need to do is borrow the hand of the Wandering Mage.”
An overwhelming information advantage. On this front, the playing field belonged entirely to me.
Granted, the Wandering Mage was an Archmage and an eccentric oddball currently playing hide-and-seek with the Emperor himself. I hadn't the foggiest idea where that lunatic was roaming around right now. But Cattleya would find it exceedingly difficult to doubt my claim blindly.
It was inevitable.
“Isn't that the very reason you wanted to trade with me in the first place?”
Because in her mind, I was the Oracle. That false piece of intelligence lent my words far more credibility than they deserved. In a sense, I supposed I had Cult to thank for leaking my identity.
Cattleya had called me the Oracle, but that was mistaken intel. Cult had known from the start that I wasn't the Oracle. That monster had realized long ago that I was a completely separate entity, which meant he had undoubtedly spun a calculated lie to Cattleya. When it came to manipulating human psychology, he was leagues more devious than any merchant. No matter that she presided over a commercial network spanning the entire Empire, slipping free of his clutches was practically impossible.
“Is that so?”
Yet Cattleya merely smiled. If anything, her golden eyes sparkled even brighter than before.
“Well, this isn't going to be easy, is it?”
Even though it wouldn't be strange for her to lose her head this very second, she looked at me as if she had struck gold. Then again, if she were sane in any normal sense, she would never have hatched a plot to seize total control of the imperial purse strings and bring down the Empire single-handedly.
“Then tell me what you want. Surely you have a price? If you claim you don't, you'd be admitting that everything you just said was nothing more than a bluff.”
“...”
“So name your price while I'm still offering fair value.”
Cattleya flashed a sharp, wicked grin. From her tone, she seemed almost convinced that I was bluffing—or perhaps that challenge was a bluff of her own.
Good grief... Not a single one of these bastards was ever an easy mark.