The Six Apostles of the Evil God

"Alright. I'll be heading out now."

I carefully settled Yuria — who had cried herself to sleep — into Ian's arms.

"Hrm... What's the hurry, now?"

"A busy honey has no time to grieve."

"Hmm...? Don't you mean a honeybee?"

Same difference.

"Oh, right. Give this to Yuria when she wakes up."

"This is... candy, isn't it?"

"I've still got plenty left. Use the rest of this to treat everyone in the slums to a proper meal."

I handed Ian the entire sack of money, minus a single gold coin.

"Now hold on — the money, at least, I cannot—"

"Pay me back if you want. Anyway, I'm really leaving."

The rush, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at any rate, was genuine.

I had stopped Yuria from becoming a villainess. But because of that, the timeline of events had lurched forward.

The apostles who'd infiltrated the Academy making contact was originally supposed to happen in Act Two.

...If that information is true.

Rania, having skipped straight over Act One, would be forced to face Act Two without having grown at all.

So what I need to do right now is...

Push the novel's protagonist — Rania Vulcanus — to grow faster than she had in the original.

...Can I even pull that off?

I had a method in mind. Whether I could actually execute it was a different question entirely.

But I have to.

To stay alive.

And—

"Nnh... Grandpa..."

"Yes. Grandpa's right here. You've suffered so much because of this worthless old man, Yuria..."

So that even the people who were supposed to bear an undeserved misery could find happiness in the end.

For a true happy ending.

This was not the time to hesitate, wondering whether I could do it.

"Old man. Once you've wrapped things up here, send someone over to Cheolsu."

"It's Charles."

"Cheolsu. Let's go."

"I said, it's Charles."

It was time to make it happen, one way or another.

...So, as planned, the next objective is:

Saving Rania's sleeping father.

And so, immediately after leaving the underworld—

"I'm headed that way."

"I'll come with you."

"No. Could you maybe... not?"

I stopped walking, trying to peel Charles off me.

"Where are you planning to go?"

"The opposite direction from you, Professor."

Charles chuckled at that.

"It's fine. No need to feel burdened by something like this. I'll see you to your destination."

"Ugh, I'm already feeling burdened."

This was exactly like—

Of course, from Charles's point of view, he was just worried about me and wanted to walk me home. But still.

"I'm an introvert, okay?"

"Hmm?"

"I need some time to myself."

My head was already a mess. The last thing I wanted was to have Charles hovering at my shoulder on top of everything else.

"...I see."

Charles eventually nodded.

"I understand how you feel. Then just answer me this one thing, and I'll head back."

"What is it?"

"...Eugene. You."

The next moment, Charles hesitated, put on a serious expression, and finally managed to open his mouth.

"Just what are you hiding?"

Thinking about it, it was a perfectly reasonable question.

Out of nowhere I'd smashed the scarecrow, survived Vivian, claimed I'd lost all my power — and then single-handedly crushed a hundred villains.

Someone who knew the future. Someone with an EX-rank Unique Trait. Someone who had transmigrated for a happy ending.

Plenty of answers came to mind. None of them were things I could say out loud right now.

So I went with this.

"Ah, so you caught that."

I held out one of the two honey candies I'd kept back, and added,

"For now... this is all I've got."

A roundabout way of saying I was hiding a great deal, and that none of it was anything I could talk about yet.

"...Is that so."

Whether he understood or not, Charles took the candy without a word and slipped it into his mouth.

"Think it over, Eugene. If all you ever do is hide things, they're bound to go bad on you someday."

It was the most Charles-like he'd sounded yet — earnest, blunt, and warm.

"...I understand."

I found myself nodding without meaning to.

Clack.

Charles shifted the candy in his mouth and ruffled my hair.

"Well. It's still sweet for now, so I suppose it's fine."

That was the end of it.

"Looks like you've still got the dagger, so..."

He fashioned a few calling orbs, tucked them into a small pouch, and pressed it into my hands.

"I'll head back first today."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if you're the only one."

And just like that, he vanished from my side.

Finally alone, I muttered at Charles's retreating back.

"Even the manager's advice is worth listening to. Sometimes."

After parting ways with him, I was about to stop by the dorms to catch a little sleep when—

"Hey! Number Two!"

A bone-chilling voice rang out.

A dark-crimson robe. A bright, playful voice, like neighborhood kids calling out to each other.

And yet, for some reason—

"You said you don't do the whole 'friends' thing! You're gonna make me really sad, you know?"

—a terrible dread seeped through my shoulder where a woman's hand had landed.

I wanted to run that instant. Doing so might actually get me killed.

So the move I chose was this:

"Hey. Who're you supposed to be?"

Act like nothing was wrong. Play the part of "Eugene." And squeeze information out of the other party.

"Me? I'm Number Four, obviously?"

Fortunately, the woman had a loose tongue.

"No, not you. Me."

"Ahh~ Weird as ever! Number Two. You're Number Two."

We'd only exchanged a few words, but a considerable amount of information had already stacked up.

Number Two and Number Four.

And then there was what I'd gotten out of Paloma.

The conclusion came together faster than I'd expected.

"Anyway, Number Two!"

The current "me"—

"You lied to me, didn't you?! Lying is bad, you know that?! So let's pray!"

To be precise, the extra named "Eugene"—

"To the Mother of the Apocalypse."

—was a spy for the Salvation Cult.

The Six Apostles of the Evil God.

Six powerhouses, raised from childhood within the Salvation Cult to make up for their lack of military might.

At first, I'd thought it was ridiculous.

They're reinforcing their forces with just six people?

No matter how strong they were, Rania and her companions had looked far stronger.

Then the episode where Rania encountered the 6th Apostle went up.

Holy shit. There are five more of those things?

My thinking flipped completely.

They were the Evil God's mighty blades — the reason a small group like the Salvation Cult could stand against the protagonist Rania, and even against the Empire itself.

And that's supposed to be me?

Not just any apostle — the 2nd Apostle, second only to the 1st Apostle who led the entire cult?

I couldn't wrap my head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around it. But—

"...Aren't you going to pray?"

"Conviction complete. Let's pray."

I decided to just accept it for now.

There were plenty of things that didn't add up. What else was I supposed to do about it?

"Number Two!! You're finally going to pray with me?!"

"Let's do it."

If I didn't want to die on the spot, I had to play along.

"Thank you!! Thank you so much!!"

Number Four bounced up and down, thrilled out of her mind.

Rose-pink hair. Matching snow-white lashes and irises. The occasional leak of a dark-crimson gleam in her eyes. Even her frame was on the small side — if I had a little sister, she might have looked something like this.

If I just play along, she'll probably leave.

Number Four's entire evaluation of Eugene — that is, of Number Two — boiled down to a single word.

Weird as ever!

He was peculiar. As long as I didn't do anything too conspicuous, I probably wouldn't get caught as a transmigrator.

Besides.

"You're finally going to pray with me!!"

Number Four wasn't exactly the type to overthink things, either.

"You're finally going to pray with me!!"

Her face lit up as she bounced around like a child who'd just been handed the toy she'd been dying for.

I asked her,

"So. Are we praying or not?"

The next moment—

Slash.

My field of vision suddenly widened.

More precisely—

"Kyaa. Number Two really is the most handsome."

—the mask I'd been wearing split clean in half.

This is... praying...?

Was prayer in this world that different from prayer back in Korea?

Wondering what the hell had just happened, I looked at Number Four. She was holding a weapon with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a rose-pink blade, her eyes glittering red.

"Come on, big brother. Let's pray."

Whatever this was, it was a combat situation. I quickly checked my list of borrowed skills.

I'd burned through too many of the skills I'd borrowed to save Yuria.

Apostles are at least professor-level. Or higher.

The skill I'd borrowed from Ian didn't fit the current situation, and everything else was still below professor-level.

And that one...

I didn't know exactly what it was. But some instinct buried inside this body was screaming that I must not use it.

That left me with one option.

I carefully raised my hand. Putting on the scariest face I could muster, I said, cold and flat, to Number Four:

"Cancel."

"...Huh?"

"Cancel. Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey. I'm not praying."

"...Eeeeh!?"

Number Four's face crumpled on the spot.

"You can't just do that!!"

"I just did."

"You said you would!!"

"And I also said I cancel, didn't I?"

"Number Two, you idiot!? That's cheating!! That's so mean!!"

"But I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Grrraaah!!!"

She was furious. But Number Four didn't come at me again.

Please just leave...

I needed time — to get my bearings, to rest, to sort through everything, including the next plan of going to find Rania. A little while to sit still and put it all in order.

But the next moment.

"Then, big br—... I mean, Number Two."

Clink.

"If Number Two wins, I'll give you this."

Number Four dangled a familiar brooch between her fingers.

That was definitely—

—the brooch Rania had been wearing.

"Well? Feeling like praying now?"

"Hey."

"...Whoa, what? Your face is actually scary."

"Shut up. Bring that here."

Right now.