The Affairs of Two (2)
The residents of the underworld were sensitive to information.
Most of them made their living through crime, and they knew all too well that even the most trivial scrap of intel could, depending on how it was used, become a fortune — or a catastrophe.
Lately, a piece of news so hard to believe had been circulating among them, whispered from mouth to mouth.
"Hey, did you hear? This time too…"
"That Hex?"
Hex — the fighter who had become a legend of the underworld. The incident in which the champion of the dark arena had been beaten into a bloody pulp by some outsider who appeared out of nowhere was still the talk of the town.
Any information about a man like that was bound to grab everyone's attention. And yet…
"Hex did a good deed…?"
"I heard he even went out on a volunteer mission with that priestess from his party this time."
The content of the rumor was simply too far-fetched to trust.
Hex's infamy had not been built on ruthless violence alone. He had committed acts so outrageous that even the underworld's own residents recoiled, crossing every line a human being was supposed to respect. That was how his reputation had been forged.
So when that piece of garbage had suddenly announced he was joining the Hero's party, everyone had been stunned. Hex was a man who put his own desires above the fate of the world — no one believed for a second that his goal was to save it. The prevailing theory had been that he was only joining so he could make a move on the women in the party. And yet now he was supposedly doing good deeds?
"You don't think he actually reformed, do you?"
It was the kind of thing no one would have said even as a drunkard's joke just a short while ago.
"Come on, even so, that's…"
"How else do you explain him cooperating in the arrest of those Hinge bastards? Those guys were the closest thing to his own type — he could've used them as lackeys if he wanted."
Because Hex had been involved in every kind of filthy work imaginable, the underworld was thrown into confusion. And those rumors eventually reached the organizations that ruled the dark streets.
In a dimly lit room, a woman with long cascading hair wore a seductive smile. The muscular man seated before her swallowed hard at the sight of her.
"Grok, was it?"
"Y-yes! That's right."
"You've done well. Speak to the steward about your payment."
"Thank you!"
Once Grok had left the room, the woman murmured as she looked over the documents before her.
"Hex is not himself… is that so."
Grok's testimony — that Hex had planned to make a move on the Mage Tower's top disciple — carried a fair amount of credibility. But the Hex he had encountered this time seemed to know nothing about it, and apparently still had not put any such plan into motion. On top of that, there were all the recent rumors circulating about him.
The woman turned to the man standing beside her.
"What do you make of it?"
"Not even worth considering. Empty rumors."
At his firm declaration, the woman nodded.
"I thought the same. Trash like that has no capacity for reform."
"Then…"
"But this changed my mind."
As she spoke, she produced a single document — a report from the informants who served as her eyes and ears.
"This happened recently in Agra territory. According to someone who was present at the time, Hex threw himself into harm's way to protect Beyond's daughter."
"That's…"
To an ordinary person, it would have been perfectly understandable — protecting a comrade you fight alongside. But to anyone who knew Hex, it was an utterly incomprehensible act.
"Look at the next page as well."
There, a record of Hex's combat performance during that battle was written out in detail.
"Apparently the way that Hex fought was completely pathetic."
"My lady, please refrain from such undignified language."
She paid his words no mind whatsoever.
"Which is why I've concluded that something is wrong with him."
"Wrong… how?"
"Perhaps the Hero hit him so hard his brain got scrambled. Or maybe he mistreated some prostitutes, got caught by Galatea, and had his soul pulverized… something like that."
The Galatea part had been her idea of a joke, but the man considered it with a deadly serious expression. Amused by the sight, the woman let out a soft chuckle.
"And so I'm giving you a mission."
"Your command."
"Gather intelligence on Hex. More thoroughly than anything you've done so far."
"Yes."
"And if, in your judgment, the man truly is out of his mind…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence. The man briefly touched the eyepatch covering his left eye, then bowed his head and withdrew.
Watching the direction he had gone, the woman leaned back and thought to herself.
Hex. Even if you've become someone else entirely — you still have to pay for everything you've done.
The Hero's party might be weakened, and the campaign against the Demon King might suffer for it. But that was none of her concern. The fate of the world meant nothing to her.
Via was restless.
The Hero's party would not be staying much longer, and she still had not managed a proper conversation with Layla. So today she had come to Layla's room intending to talk — only to find that Layla had already gone out.
"Layla? She left a while ago. Where to? Hell if I know."
She had run into Hex by chance and learned that Layla had gone somewhere, but not where.
"…"
Standing blankly in front of Layla's door, Via suddenly found herself regretting how sharp their conversations had been.
It wasn't always like this.
She still remembered. When they first met as very young children during an exchange with the Mage Tower, Layla had been a scruffy little thing — no breeding of a proper young lady, wild hair and dirty clothes, clutching a magic tome to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
To Via, who had been raised on the etiquette and composure expected of nobility, it was an unacceptable sight. And since she was also simply glad to meet someone her own age, she had tried — as if it were the most natural thing in the world — to teach Layla how to carry herself with dignity.
But Layla had asked, with pure and total innocence:
"What does any of that have to do with casting magic?"
To Via, those words were unforgivable. Maintaining one's dignity was, to her, a pursuit every bit as valuable as magic itself. So, with the wounded pride of a child determined to hurt someone who had dismissed what she held dear, she challenged Layla to a magic duel — and lost spectacularly.
Even though her house specialized in a particular branch of magic — buffs and magical toolcrafting — they still claimed the title of a great magical lineage, and she had never imagined her general spellcasting would fall short of anyone's. And yet Layla had crushed her completely.
Overwhelmed by a girl whose knowledge was monstrous across every field, Via had been shaken to her core. Tasting defeat for the first time in her life, she had burst into tears.
Their beginning had been far from ideal. But after that, they had gotten along reasonably well — or so Via had believed. When they reunited after so long, however, Layla had shattered that warm feeling to pieces.
You don't need to thank me so much, Via.
Spoken as if looking down on her, followed by:
Helping someone in trouble is simply what we ought to do… wasn't it?
A greeting laced with sarcasm.
We haven't seen each other in ages. Did she really have to say it like that?
At first Via had simply been annoyed. But as a little time passed, a different thought crept in.
Maybe I was a bit arrogant back then?
Talking with Hex and Emily recently had made her start to notice things. Most of the people she spoke with day to day were servants, and she had come to realize that her speech tended toward the commanding. And back then she had been so young she never even thought to question her own tone.
Was that really the problem?
As Via fretted restlessly, she spotted Layla approaching from far down the corridor — not with her usual self-assured air, but wearing an oddly uneasy expression.
Via called out to her.
"That's an uncharacteristically dumb look on your face. Where did the usual you go?"
Ah. She'd done it again. Why couldn't she just say what she actually felt?
Berating herself, Via looked at Layla with a puzzled expression. She had expected a sharp retort — but instead, Layla seemed somehow flustered and restless herself.
Just like back then.
It was the same look Layla used to wear during lessons long ago, in situations that were necessary to learn but terrifying to face.
Then Via's eyes fell on the book clutched against Layla's chest.
"What's that book?"
"This is…"
Somehow, the whole scene felt similar to the first time they had met. As Via thought that, Layla — who had been hesitating and fretting — suddenly brightened. The pure delight on her face was so open and unguarded that Via was caught off guard. And then Layla said:
"Want to read it together!?"
Not a challenge. An invitation to do something side by side. Perhaps that was the very thing Via had been waiting for most of all.
She tried not to show how pleased she was, but she couldn't quite hide the faint flush rising to her cheeks as she answered.
"Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I can't refuse."
And so the two of them headed cheerfully to Layla's room.
A short while later, a scream erupted from inside.
The book Layla had received from Galatea — its title was a romance guidebook.