Suspiciously Suspicious... (1)

I'd joked about freezing the whole world solid, but I never actually believed this cute little thing could pull it off. If she really did freeze everything, that would be a problem.

Still, I am a god, supposedly.

I hadn't done much for anyone yet, but from here on out I figured I ought to start acting the part. First things first, though — domestic affairs.

Tap. Tap.

I poked the entrance of the mine the dwarves were coming and going through, checking how many floors were open. Currently unlocked: Floor 7, the source of Shimmering Platinum. I spent some of my stockpiled gold and opened Floor 8.

After a short wait, the dwarves came waddling out, grunting under the weight of a new metal.

Platinum, then obsidian? The logic behind metal-grade progression was a mystery I still couldn't crack.

I didn't have enough gold to unlock any new weapons, so I just browsed the list — and there they were, the two bows I'd unlocked ages ago and still couldn't craft. The B-grade Greatbow of the Golden Tree and the D-grade Creaking Bow.

I'd meant them for building ranged dealers, since I already had more than enough melee DPS… but I hadn't even managed to craft the weapons, let alone train any archers.

Just looking at them pisses me off all over again. You make every other weapon just fine — so why not these?

I grabbed some poor dwarf and shook him around in the sky for a bit before letting him go. These little guys were genuinely alive, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so I should go easy on them… go easy, my ass. You lot need to work harder.

In the spirit of eat well and work like oxen, I spent the leftover gold on a building for the dwarves.

"Wooooooah!! The brewery! It's a brewery!!"

"Farewell to that godawful honey beer!! Long live the Great One! Long live the brewery!!"

They loved booze that much, apparently — the dwarves clustered together and started dancing. Short legs flying through a surprisingly sharp tap routine. Not bad at all.

Even after building the brewery I still had a little gold left, so I casually upgraded a few more structures.

"Oh, right. The runes."

Upgrading the library had triggered a message about unlockable runes. I'd given Hans the Rune of Courage as an experiment and then completely forgotten about the whole system.

Now that new ones were available, I tapped the library to check.

Hmm… these eat a lot of gold.

There weren't that many unlockable runes, but the gold cost per unlock was steep. At these prices I could unlock one or two weapons without breaking a sweat.

Better to use what I already had first.

A footnote I'd never seen before caught my eye. Probably something Kenelm had slapped on in a hurry. Reading it carefully, the content was a little shocking. Runes could interact with each other and create synergy effects?

"If I'd known that, I never would have given Hans the Rune of Courage first!"

That meant the rest of the runes had to go to Hans, no question. I couldn't throw away the synergy, so the answer was already decided. The Rune of Speed and the Rune of Strength both belonged on Hans. All I could do was hope that Hans, loaded up with every rune I had, would live up to the investment.

No — this might actually be a good thing. Hans soloed a demon last time. Put the gold in, get the returns out.

The second rune should be the Rune of Speed. Hans was a melee fighter, after all — once he closed the gap, he fought pretty well.

I switched straight to World Exploration Mode and scrolled through my favorites list until I found Adam. The local who'd done solid work as a temporary laborer last time.

— Clang! Kang! Kaaang!

— "Does this look like thread to your eyes?! You call this thick, irregular lump thread?!"

— "No, sir! I'm sorry!!"

True to his blacksmith profession, Adam was in a noisy forge, screaming his head off at some young man. I had no idea what had set him off, but the place was way too loud — better to set the rune engraving and get out.

Unlike before, the titles attached to their names had gotten ridiculously cool. Hans was Demon Slayer, Iscal was Guardian, Friga was Dragon Hunter… the whole list was dripping with flair.

Iscal earned that Guardian title, no question.

The image of him charging alone with his shield against a countless army was still one of the coolest things I'd ever seen.

Even while my mind wandered, my finger diligently selected Hans for the Rune of Speed engraving. It would take about six hours, so I could check after dinner.

Now what?

With nothing better to do, I idly scrolled through my favorites list — and found something completely out of place.

Suspiciously Suspicious Painting.

The name alone was as shady as it got, but the actual item was just a picture of a person with cat or dog ears and a tail stuck on. I'd bought a few from the mystery shop now and then, dumped them in alleyways, and registered them to favorites. Every so often, when I checked, the paintings had changed owners.

All the paintings are clustered in one place?

That many paintings, all gathered together.

It reeked of a very suspicious event.

Shuffle, shuffle.

People passed by chattering noisily, walking with carefree faces. Looking at them, everyone seemed happy.

Everyone except me…

Iscal trudged along with his shoulders slumped. Once again, he hadn't managed to find Princess Friga. He'd searched until his feet were sweating, and still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠come up empty.

Something about that letter business had left her thoroughly misunderstanding him. Friga — normally so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blunt and easygoing — had been furious. "Don't you ever come looking for me again!" she'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠snapped, and then vanished. He still hadn't seen her since.

But Sancho said I absolutely have to find her first and talk to her.

The bouquet in his hand looked pitiful. According to Sancho — his squire and longtime friend — a bouquet and a heartfelt apology ought to earn him at least one chance.

"My lord! If a woman says 'Don't you ever come looking for me!' and you actually don't look for her, what are you thinking?! Aigoo, our dense young master!"

"Listen carefully, my lord. Women are complicated and delicate — but sometimes they're also extremely simple. So when she says 'Don't come looking for me!', what she really means is 'You come apologize first!'"

"A meaningless 'I was wrong, I'm sorry' won't cut it. Explain the letter properly — it was this kind of letter, for these reasons — and then give her a good hug. No woman can resist that. Ah! And bring a little gift. Flowers or a pretty jewel would be perfect."

Sancho… is this really right?

Sancho had looked after Iscal since the day he was born — a solid, fatherly presence — but the advice of a lifelong bachelor was hard to trust.

He let out a long sigh and started walking again. Ever since he'd completed the trial in the Colosseum, a surprising number of people recognized his face.

"Mom, look! It's Guardian Iscal!"

"Sir Iscal, here — please take this. It's just a little something from me."

"Hahaha! Oh, come on, you didn't have to."

"Guardian! An autograph! Please give me an autograph!!"

The crowd that gathered around Iscal was like a flock of clouds. His slumped shoulders rose again as if they'd never drooped, feeding greedily on other people's attention.

He shook every hand, signed every scrap of paper, and by the time he was done the sun that had hung high in the sky was dipping past the horizon, painting everything in a deep red dusk.

Another day wasted.

…Where on earth is the princess?

She was definitely somewhere inside the Holy City, but he couldn't track her down no matter what he tried. Having struck out again, Iscal trudged down an alley with a heavy heart.

Maybe he should just show up at her lodgings at dawn. But that wasn't easy either — the princess's quarters were a strictly men-forbidden zone. Get caught, and he'd be in for a thorough thrashing.

If a thrashing was all I got, I'd count myself lucky.

Demonic was already in a foul mood these days, stuck with the nickname Paladin of the Rose. If Iscal ran into him…

A chill ran down his spine.

I'd rather take the trial all over again.

Iscal shook his head hard, banishing the ominous thought. In the end, the best plan was still to wear out his shoes looking for the princess.

Ask every face he met where she was, keep searching, and eventually he'd find her. Right?

Tap-tap-tap!

"Hm?"

Down a moonlit alley, a shadow slipped quickly through the dark. The light footfalls that came with it were more than enough to make Iscal's ears prick up.

Tap!

With the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times, the figure vaulted a wall as lightly as a cat, melted into the shadows, and darted toward a secluded stretch of alley.

Something smelled off.

Very, very off.

…Suspicious?

Surely there wouldn't be crime or human trafficking in the Holy City under the direct watch of the god — but curiosity got the better of Iscal, and he quieted his steps and followed.

"Hm?"

A glint.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked up. The sky was packed with countless stars. And among them, one constellation stood out.

An eye made of seven stars, quietly fixed on Iscal.

"…Is the god watching?"

Iscal murmured, staring at the constellation. Then he moved forward again in silence.

Toward the suspicious shadow ahead.

Toward the scent of a suspicious incident.