The Taste of Trust

We were in luck.

If all four of us had been saddled with the Chaser role, we would have burned a ton of precious time scouring the grounds for a Fugitive, no matter how brilliant our strategy was. Fortunately, only a single member of our party had ended up as 'It.'

"Are you truly all right with this?"

"I'm fine. It's not like I had any points to lose anyway."

Yep, that lucky soul was me.

"Listen to the little runt. How is a kid this good-natured? I thought all the brats these days were slick little weasels. You've gotta look out for yourself sometimes to survive in this world, kiddo."

"Like how you looked out for that 'baby flower deer'?"

"......"

Hmph. Tease him all you want, he totally brought it on himself. Who was the one tormenting me with piggyback rides earlier?

"Still, our plan was for all four of us to gather as many points as possible before escaping," Isabelle said. "We need to help Orknodi find a Fugitive as soon as we can."

"Hah. And just how do you propose we do that? Nobody's even willing to make eye contact right now, let alone physical contact. How're we supposed to tell who's a Fugitive?"

Perhaps spooked by the Tag sub-quest, the examinees—who had already been eyeing each other with fierce suspicion over points—had completely vanished into thin air. You couldn't catch a glimpse of a single soul.

I strode right up to the bush.

The bush-camouflaged examinee flinched violently.

"Hmm-hmm~ Mm-hmm-hmm~"

"Lady Orknodi. What are you doing over there?"

"Just seeing if there are any berries!"

So, are you a Fugitive or 'It'?

To test the waters, I casually swung the arm bearing my ticket-watch and rummaged through the foliage directly adjacent to her.

Thump. Thump.

I could practically hear her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

A look of grim determination settled across the eyes of the disguised examinee.

"Hah!"

"Oops, dodged it!"

"Gasp! Lady Orknodi!"

"Uh... should we step in and stop this?"

"Let us observe for now."

The ambusher had cleverly snipped leafy branches and wedged them into the seams of her leather armor to blend seamlessly into the undergrowth.

It was a clever idea.

The execution wasn't half-bad either.

She had probably used her camouflage to stay out of sight whenever someone dangerous walked by, waiting to pounce the moment an easy mark crossed her path.

Unfortunately for her, parlor tricks of that caliber were never going to work on someone with sharp gamer senses like mine.

"You knew from the very beginning, didn't you?"

"The way you swayed in the breeze was completely different from the rest of the shrubbery."

"Khhh, dammit! How humiliating! To think that I, an apprentice forest keeper, would have my camouflage busted by a mere child!"

"Your camouflage wasn't bad. I'm just better."

"This is a first. No one has ever ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seen through my disguise so flawlessly. How about it... care to shake hands?"

Bush Girl flashed a sly grin and extended her open hand.

The moment our fingers clasped, she cheered in wild triumph.

"Heh-heh! You total idiot! I saw you guys go in to take the third sub-quest earlier! A handshake counts as physical contact! You're 'It' now!"

"Pfft. Miss, are you dumb? What did you think would happen when 'It' tags 'It'?"

"Whaaaat?!"

A Chaser steals points from a Fugitive.

Here, the true identity of the <Fugitives> was the <Black-Hat Instructors>.

When an examinee touches another examinee, it's merely a Chaser making contact with another Chaser.

It was an unwritten, hidden rule.

And the underlying mechanics operated under the exact same logic.

Even when 'It' tags 'It,' points are transferred.

The catch was, if the points you were siphoning away were already negative, your negative balance would simply plunge into a deeper abyss.

"Aaaagh! What the heck is this?!"

"Pfft, haha~ What a total dummy!"

"This is a scam! If you're 'It,' how can you just casually stroll around with other examinees without tagging them?!"

"Because we're comrades?"

"Comrades?! You're not even part of a Noble Coalition or a Mercenary Alliance bound by ironclad contracts and collateral! How can you trust each other not to stab you in the back?!"

"Do comrades need a reason to trust each other?"

These folks are all gullible pushovers, that's why.

If anyone was going to pull a betrayal around here, it'd be me first! Giselle, Son Ocheon, or Isabelle turning on me?

Not a snowflake's chance in hell!

Hearing my brazen, confident declaration, Dorothy wore an expression of genuine awe and deep envy.

"Haah... It's my complete loss. To trust people to that degree... I'm honestly jealous. If only my companions had been as good-natured as yours."

"Did you have companions too, Dorothy?"

"I was betrayed. The guy who became 'It' told me he had no use for a worthless forest keeper, tagged me, and ran off with the rest of the squad. He even sneered that I should be grateful he didn't tear my ticket-watch to shreds."

Oof, that is pretty rough.

"I trusted him because he was a childhood friend from my hometown, and this is what I get."

"That sucks."

"So you watch your back too. Looking at your group, you all seem to come from completely different backgrounds. In a world where even childhood friends sell you out, there's no guarantee strangers won't do the exact same thing."

I didn't have to worry about that with these three, but I graciously accepted her advice nonetheless. There was no reason to harbor ill will toward someone speaking out of genuine concern.

"Where did those traitors go?"

"That way. A guy and a girl—pure, rotten scoundrels. If you're going to hunt them down, please catch the guy rather than the girl."

"Why?"

"He's the friend from my village. The girl is the daughter of a merchant lord who comes to our forest to buy pelts. She was a sweet kid who helped fund our journey. I'm sure that idiot is just dragging her along against her will."

"...A merchant firm?"

A particular recurring character tied to merchant firms immediately sprang to mind.

Well, I'd find out soon enough once I laid eyes on them!

"I'll keep that in mind. As a thank-you, here's a little bonus tip for you."

I leaned in close and whispered into Dorothy's ear.

"Retrace your steps back toward the entrance and look for the black-hat instructors."

"!"

"If you don't give up and luck stays on your side, you might just find a way to pass."

"...How do I know that's the truth?"

"I'm merely providing the information. How you choose to use it is entirely up to you."

There was no real strategic reason to show this much kindness. Dorothy was practically already eliminated, and saving her wasn't going to grant me any tangible perks.

Yet Dorothy's plight had struck a chord.

I never dislike hard workers.

The 'cheese' and shortcuts veteran gamers used to bypass events were all byproducts of tireless research, grit, and endless trial and error. Dorothy had suffered the devastating shock of being betrayed and abandoned by a childhood friend, yet she hadn't given up on the exam.

I was simply rewarding that fighting spirit.

Dorothy bowed her head respectfully and darted off toward the entrance.

Giselle watched her depart, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Is there truly an instructor stationed near the entrance?"

"Yep."

"Your intelligence gathering is formidable."

"This much is basic!"

"Heh. It seems I will have to redouble my efforts if I wish to remain useful to Lady Orknodi."

Isabelle chimed in with a warm smile. "Good girl."

"Then give me a snack!"

"Shall I teach you about a snack that seasoned adventurers love to eat?"

"I wanna know!"

"When it's hard to forage for rations in a forest like this, you can pick up and eat black ants."

Ugh. Ants?!

"They carry an acidic fluid called formic acid that tastes pleasantly sour, and the acid produced by small ones is actually quite palatable."

"Liar!"

"It's true. Just don't ever eat any that are larger than your index finger. Their acid becomes far too concentrated, which makes it dangerous. If you're going to eat one, this size is perfect."

Isabelle gently pressed her fingertip against an ant crawling along the bark and held it out to me.

"Isn't that a bit too barbaric?" Giselle grimaced.

"Bwahaha! Has our dear employer been coddled in silk his whole life? In the wild, you eat whatever won't kill you!"

"Uncle Ocheon, have you eaten ants too?"

"Only until I was three. After that, I grew too massive, and no matter how many handfuls I shoved down my gullet, they never filled my belly."

"Hehh. So everyone eats them."

I squeezed my eyes shut and popped Isabelle's finger into my mouth.

A curious sensation fizzed across my tongue, popping with a sharp, tangy zip like sour candy.

"Tastes a little salty too?"

"That's just the sweat on my finger." Isabelle pulled her hand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Ah! It's sour! Wait, I know this taste."

"I thought you said you'd never eaten ants before?"

"It tastes just like that light-blue candy!"

"...Right..."

"Do you guys want one? It's pretty fun rolling it around in your mouth."

"I'll... pass."

Son Ocheon and Giselle, who had both been poking at the soil with their fingers a moment ago thinking of taking a nostalgic bite, abruptly rose to their feet with somber, heavy expressions.

"Let us get moving."

"Yeah. Ants don't fill the stomach anyway."

"Ehhh? Can't we eat a few more before leaving?"

I didn't think the Food Compendium had registered it as an entry yet. If I collected a ton of formic acid and processed it all at once, wouldn't that count as a 'dish'?

"Let's hurry to a place with real ingredients."

"Indeed, and we must also consider Lady Orknodi's score."

I shelved my experimental cravings for now. If they were rushing ahead for my sake, I could hardly complain.

The tracks were so massive and conspicuous that no advanced observation skills were required to follow them.

Footprints belonging to the proctor and the vanguard group, who had bypassed the third sub-quest entirely, stood out like a freshly paved road. The direction Dorothy had pointed toward was tangled up in that mess, but with so many overlapping prints, picking out the specific trail of her former comrades was virtually impossible.

A shame.

Instead, I spotted another intriguing set of markers.

A fork in the trail opened before us.

The path leading toward the swamp was the route to the fourth sub-quest.

The flat, even dirt trail continued directly along the proctor's primary advance.

While many had attempted the third sub-quest earlier, this time almost the entire remainder of the vanguard had veered straight into the marshland. These were examinees who, unable to withstand the mounting pressure of their point deficits, had belatedly been forced into action.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Another sub-quest, huh? Want to give it a shot, runt?"

"No way!"

"Even if your penalty was reset, wouldn't having more points be better?"

As I'd said time and time again, points weren't the real problem in this forest.

The true threat was entirely different.

"There are too many mosquitoes in the swamp."

"Just how much do you despise mosquitoes?"

"Ah. I actually think that's a wise decision," Isabelle agreed, nodding firmly.

"You seem awfully arrogant just because of your thick hide," she told Son Ocheon, "but if it weren't for Orknodi, you'd be in for a miserable awakening."

"The great me? Over a bunch of measly mosquitoes?"

"In the humid swamps of a deep forest, mosquitoes swarm by the hundreds, even thousands. Your home forest didn't have wetlands like this, did it?"

"Gives me the creeps just thinking about it. Is that place hell or something?"

"Pretty close. On top of that, mosquitoes that feed on decaying swamp gases can mutate into plague mosquitoes. If one bites you, you'll be riddled with fatal diseases or rotting toxins."

Giselle suddenly glanced back at me, his eyes widening in grim realization.

"Resistance conditioning..."

At those words, a flicker of profound horror and sorrow washed over the faces of both Son Ocheon and Isabelle.

"Allow me to carry you on my back this time. Quickly now, Lady Orknodi, climb aboard."

"Whoa, really?"

"I'll take the lead as our scout," Isabelle said, drawing her weapon.

"O-Oho! Then I'll handle any heavy lifting!"

For some bizarre reason, our party's teamwork suddenly skyrocketed through the roof.

"Examinees who took on the Tag quest will likely want to identify our destination while trailing the proctor and catch their breath, rather than increase their risks with another task," Giselle reasoned smoothly as he adjusted my weight on his shoulders.

"Ah, that sounds like a great idea! Giselle, you're pretty sharp for an older student, aren't you?"

"...Consider yourself fortunate that I am currently carrying you, Lady Orknodi. I am letting you off this once solely because my hands aren't free to flick your forehead."

Watching our travel speed surge as we sprinted away from the swamp, I felt so securely protected that I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠almost felt a tiny twinge of guilt toward Dorothy.