#069
Catherine finished her meal and immediately began preparing to head out upon returning to her room. Yaong, wanting to savor the scents of its homeland after so long, had already flown off to Abyssland. It was the first time she'd seen it so excited, so Catherine let it go without a word.
'Gotta leave before Karl shows up.'
If word got out that she was going to Busperfield, Karl would come storming in with fury. He'd insist on taking her along if she wanted to leave, and if they argued, he'd drag up incidents from ten years ago and lecture her endlessly. She had to depart as quickly as possible.
Fortunately, Demian arrived right on time, and he made no mention of what had happened at the restaurant. The two headed to the Christopher territory's mansion.
"Where's Lord Chezare? Is he coming here?"
Catherine flatly denied Demian's question.
"No. Busperfield's just for us."
Demian rejected her plan just as bluntly.
"No way. Too dangerous."
"That's why I told Grandma. Got this location-etching magic tool out of it, didn't I? Even if it's risky, I can call Chezare, so don't worry."
"How're you gonna call him?"
"That's a secret between me and Chezare."
Demian pretended to gag. Catherine dropped the one line that would ensure his definite company.
"If you're scared, you can stay here."
"I'm not scared."
His expression changed the instant he heard it. Knights were all the same. Mention fear, and they bristled like you'd scarred their honor.
Catherine pulled the admission ticket from her bag and read it.
From Giovanni Busperfield.
Hold the ticket in an open sky and wave it toward the heavens! Busperfield will come rushing to you!
She waved the ticket toward the sky as instructed. It felt ridiculous while doing it, but the response came quickly. Something began flying in from the heavens.
"That's..."
A man who looked like a pilot sat atop a massive eagle-like monster. The beast landed with a small gust of wind, and the approaching pilot greeted them.
"Whoa, welcome! I'm your guide to Busperfield. Just call me Guide-san nice and easy!"
Guide-san? What a name that made her not want to say it. Catherine decided to just go with "hey, you."
"Now, the ticket, if you would..."
The guide's eyes widened upon checking Catherine's ticket.
"Whoa! The Supreme Commander's invitation!"
Unlike his cheerful arrival, he bowed deeply with a formal salute.
"Honored guests! We'll treat you VIP-style!"
VIP or not, it was still riding a monster. The guide pulled a new saddle from his bag—an impossibly large one for such a small leather pouch.
"Ultra-comfy saddle! The cushioning's beyond imagination. Hop on, honored ones. To Busperfield!"
Magic tool, huh. Nephilim were born powerful mages, so they probably developed even more varied tools than Panya. Rumors even said the source of the market's top-grade magic tools was Busperfield.
As Catherine followed the guide to mount the monster...
"Hold up, miss. Promise me something before we go."
Demian grabbed her arm and turned her around, his face dead serious.
"A promise?"
"Don't ditch me somewhere, lock me up, or shake me off to go solo. Got it?"
Anyone hearing that would think she did it daily. Catherine narrowed her eyes and scanned him up and down. Demian continued with a sour look.
"And don't make that 'sharp guy, huh' face either."
When did I ever? Twisted people hear everything twisted, they say.
"Fine, don't worry. Even I wouldn't have the guts to wander alone after having a top-notch gardener."
Seemed like sneaking off without Chezare was making him anxious. Catherine soothed Demian and mounted with him. The massive wings began flapping powerfully.
"Hyah!"
The monster rode the winds up past the white clouds. Even at an altitude where Christopher was a speck below, there was no fear. Was it the security from Chezare and Grandma influencing even this? Their presence felt almost omnipotent.
"Miss."
They'd been flying awhile when Demian, seated ahead, quietly called her name.
"Yeah?"
"Don't you have any thoughts on me being adopted into the Panya family?"
So that's why he'd been unusually quiet—he'd been stewing on it. After some thought, Catherine gave the most fitting reply.
"One thing bugs me."
"What?"
"If you join Panya, you'd be my uncle. Imagining calling you 'uncle' or 'bro' makes me wanna hurl."
She'd picked it to lighten the mood, but Demian's response came after a long pause.
"Super realistic. Hearing that just amplified my doubts."
"Guess you were warming to it."
He didn't reply. Was even how to respond a dilemma?
"Think it over. I'll support whatever you choose."
"You wouldn't mind? A royal bastard like me being Panya's adopted son."
She'd heard something similar before.
'Sis, you don't hate me and Anne? I'd die of disgust. Guess you're so oblivious that's why we get along.'
Yeah, Magi had said something like that. To be honest now...
Catherine actually liked Anne and Magi. With a busy dad and capable mom, she'd always been lonely, so her late-arriving sisters had been precious. Of course, time had tainted those feelings.
"Technically, I don't share a drop of Panya blood either. Plus, my only maternal relative is Grandma... so one more wouldn't be bad."
Their talk ended there. The monster passed through what looked like long-distance gates two or three times, and after a few more minutes, a massive island emerged beyond the clouds.
The mechanical island floating in the sky, the aerial garden. The world's greatest fortress and Nephilim homeland. The stronghold of the armed group Busperfield. Towering spires pierced endlessly into the heavens atop it.
"Welcome, honored guests? To the Nephilim cradle, Busperfield!"
The monster entered a station-like building at the garden's edge. They dismounted straight into a mana car heading deeper in.
Buildings so tall the sky vanished. Bustling crowds on neatly paved roads. Newspaper stands with dozens of papers, restaurants, flower shops, guards... and colossal spires rising amid it all. This was a metropolis proper.
"Impressive, right? Totally fantastical! Everyone's jaws drop at this sight."
The guide eyed Catherine and Demian, hoping for shock and awe. But Catherine's expressions were always subdued, and Demian had no bandwidth amid his adoption woes. Tsk.
The guide, smacking his lips with disappointment, continued.
"Anyway, a quick intro to our Busperfield! It's a 100-story spire in the aerial garden—the world's most perfect fortress. Floor 1 has..."
Shut up already. Not like I'm living here—why the details? Catherine cut off the lengthening spiel.
"Where's the food? I'm starving."
"Haha! Gotta be hungry! I'll continue en route. Floor 4 leads to 5, which..."
Damn Guide-san yapped nonstop till the mana car stopped. Even after alighting, his Busperfield praise showed no sign of ending, so Catherine was about to call Demian.
"Demi—"
Thwack! A dull thud, and the guide slumped over the wheel. Demian, shaking his hand, grumbled irritably.
"This guide prick's too noisy. Leave him?"
"Exactly."
She'd meant to just scare him, but Demian went the extra mile to knock him out. Catherine gave up scolding and got out.
No point protesting the violence—the reply was obvious. Terrorists only speak violence, he'd say. So as Demian stepped down, he asked,
"Where to now, miss?"
"To the guy who sent the invite."
That smug panther-like man, Giovanni Busperfield.
"Giovanni? He's way too dangerous. Empire papers ranked him No. 2 'Most Dangerous on the Continent'..."
"With No. 1 Chezare watching my back, no issue."
As Catherine knew, the papers' 'dangerous' differed from Demian's. Hearing why they topped 1-2 would vaporize his worry.
"Better than aimlessly investigating. Guy's Supreme Commander of Busperfield—he'll know everything."
Catherine moved to the street's center, teeming with hurrying folk. Demian's trailing gaze felt oddly impure.
"Why stare like that?"
He replied like he'd been waiting.
"You're starting to resemble Lord Chezare more and more."
Compliment or insult? Catherine paused, surveying around. She'd imagined a space of weird mages, but it brimmed with more vitality than expected.
"So, how're you meeting Supreme Commander Giovanni?"
He probably knows I'm here already. Catherine was half-convinced.
"If trouble hits, won't he show?"
"Punch a random Nephilim?"
To Demian, talk equaled violence, apparently. But Catherine lacked punching confidence, so she opted gentlemanly.
"Too violent... let's try something more peaceful."
Bracing for incoming pain, she shouted clearly.
"Queen."
⟨ Crimson Magic Circle ⟩
Demian looked up at the crimson magic circle forming overhead and let out a dry chuckle, like he couldn't stop her.
"Miss, no joke—you really are turning into Lord Chezare."