Suspiciously Suspicious... (7)
Whoooosh—
From the far side of the endless, sprawling prairie, the wind came racing in a pack, playfully tugging at the Marquis’s collar before vanishing into the distance beyond.
The neatly trimmed grasses bowed and rose in time with the breeze, their motion looking for all the world like a pack of wolves racing through the undergrowth.
“This place…”
The sun and moon hung together in the sky—siblings facing one another, with stars scattered thickly between them like grains of sand.
A land where day and night coexisted. A place that transcended the rules of the mortal world. A realm ruled by a single absolute law.
The Holy Land.
The Marquis stared blankly in every direction. He could scarcely believe he was standing on the soil of a place that had existed only in rumors until now.
According to the first pilgrims who had returned from the Holy Land, it was an endless expanse of grassland—and that description had been perfectly true.
Not a single tree, not a single flower. Only the vast carpet of grass and the wind that filled it.
“Is this truly the Holy Land?”
Unable to sense divine power, the Marquis muttered in puzzlement. Had he possessed even a speck of sacred energy, he would have felt the dense divinity saturating every corner of the land. But for a man more familiar with paperwork than scripture, such power simply did not exist.
As he continued gazing blankly at the sky, another gust of wind swept through, tousling his carefully arranged hair as if to snap him out of it.
Only then did the Marquis come to his senses. He picked up the staff that had been rolling on the ground.
Using it to tap the earth with each step—tap, tap—he began walking at random.
This was the land of a god, so he must already be under that gaze. If the god had summoned him, then somehow, some way, he would encounter the divine will, would he not?
I really should have read the scriptures more often.
When Emperor Caesar had invited him to study the holy texts together, he ought to have at least pretended to open a page.
Pushing aside the belated regret, the Marquis walked endlessly across the prairie. Far off on the horizon, the Milky Way began to gather like a bank of clouds. Strangely, it did not blanket the entire sky—only a single portion of it.
Thud—!
“Ugh…?!”
Staring at the galaxy in a daze, the Marquis heard something heavy settle into place. Nothing had actually fallen, yet that was how it sounded to his ears.
Ah.
He could feel it.
Beyond that river of stars, He was watching.
He knew the gaze had turned and fixed squarely upon him.
“Haa…”
With trembling hands the Marquis set his staff down and slowly sank to his knees in the grass. Then, with utmost reverence, he greeted his god.
O most radiant and magnificent One who shines even brighter amid the countless glittering stars.
For what purpose have You called me?
“…I called him because I was told to, but now what am I supposed to do?”
On the other side of the screen, the Marquis was still kneeling in the grass. Kenelm was no longer even popping up message windows… Did that mean she was leaving everything to me now?
Should I give him a weapon or something?
I pressed firmly on the Marquis to open his detailed information. Name, age, gender, occupation—his full personal data scrolled out in a list.
Occupation: Noble, huh?
This was only the second resident whose job wasn’t combat-related. The first had been Caesar, whose occupation had simply read “Emperor.” He’d received that enormous scepter and gone on to shine as a buffer.
Judging by that experience, this Marquis was also likely destined for a buffer or support role. It would be strange for a refined noble to pick up a weapon and charge onto the battlefield himself, after all.
Or maybe not?
I had no idea. Since I’d already brought him here, I ought to give him at least a little souvenir.
Rustle—scritch—
I rummaged through the inventory looking for something suitable to hand over.
Candy… no, that’s for Hans. Lovebird Duck… that’s a toy, so no. Smooth and Sticky Cream? What even is this for?
If only a Suspicious Picture had been left over, I could have given him that—but of course there was none when I actually needed one. As if exasperated by my dithering, a message window appeared.
Some residents also grant special events! Try receiving a special event from the Marquis!
“Ah, a resident request.”
It had been so long I’d completely forgotten. Come to think of it, among the residents who arrived through the Dimensional Gate, a few had placed special orders. Only three of them, though.
The Marquis was still kneeling blankly and showed no sign of offering an event first. Conditional, maybe?
If he’s a Marquis who goes crazy for nekomimi, the condition is obvious.
It had to be a Suspicious Picture, no question.
I quickly switched screens and headed for the Mystery Shop. By pure luck, it was selling a “Suspiciously Suspicious Picture” right now.
“Lucky break.”
When I returned to the Holy Land, the Marquis was still on his knees. Patient fellow. I dragged the Suspicious Picture out of the inventory and dropped it onto him.
— Thud.
— “Th-this…?”
The Marquis’s face twisted in utter shock the moment he saw the picture. A cartoonish KWA-BOOM! effect even exploded behind his head to emphasize how stunned he was. That hadn’t been there before.
— “Why is this picture…? C-could it be… a picture sent by God? All the pictures I collected… were they all from God…? …This is serious. Perhaps God is punishing my inappropriate hobby—no, if that were the case, why summon me all the way to the Holy Land…?”
The Marquis muttered to himself while dialogue scripts raced past at breakneck speed. Conversation windows stacked up faster than I could read them.
Above the flood of text, the event message I had been waiting for finally appeared.
The Marquis is extremely surprised! What will you do?
[Calm Him Down][Scold Him]
“…Why does it always make things weird like this?”
I chose “Calm Him Down,” of course. I had never intended to scold him. His tastes were a little off-putting, sure, but he hadn’t gone full furry yet. He was still fine.
For now.
I watched with chilly eyes as the Marquis clutched the picture to his chest and babbled incoherently.
This was the karma I had created—the abnormal desire I myself had spread.
The Marquis was both the crystallization of my original sin and the key to everything. Judging by the banquet where he had proudly displayed those pictures, he was clearly a man of considerable influence among those who shared the same tastes.
Which meant that if I could control this Marquis, I could stop the slide into full-blown furry territory. How, then, to control him?
…The residents who awakened the Blood of the Forgotten.
Those who had awakened that blood and grown animal ears.
I needed to inform the Marquis of their existence and order him to look after them. Once he was satisfied with real-life nekomimi, he would never descend into the furry abyss.
For that, he needed a justification.
The authority and legitimacy of divine recognition!
“Hmm. I’ll need to give him an item.”
Visible, concrete proof was always best. Since he was a noble, I briefly considered crafting a rapier-type weapon—then immediately changed my mind. A noble would never personally take a sword onto the battlefield.
In that case—
“Oh.”
The staff lying beside the Marquis caught my eye. That was it.
Staff, staff… let’s see, where’s a staff—
Since the important part was simply the symbol that I had made it, a high grade wasn’t necessary.
I found a decent-looking staff around D-Grade in the weapon list and unlocked it on the spot.
Insufficient Gold.
…Not enough gold. I’d blown a fortune upgrading buildings just earlier, and my gold was scraping the bottom.
“Ugh, seriously… Guess I’m buying more gold packs again.”
Payday was coming soon anyway. Until then I could survive on bean sprouts, ketchup, and pork hind legs.
Wooong—!
Card payment of 54,500 won approved as a lump sum.
While I was at it, I bought a generous amount. I’d use it all eventually, so it counted as meaningful spending.
◈ Crafted from Sharp Obsidian
◈ Elegant, refined black luster
I had specially crafted it with the newly unlocked material, Sharp Obsidian. That was why the entire staff carried a luxurious, muted black sheen. Perhaps because the material was high-grade, it looked surprisingly stylish.
— Thud.
I placed the staff into the Marquis’s hands.
“You’re a suppressor.”
A suppressor to stop those who would otherwise sink into the furry abyss.
Friga, Selina, and Iscal.
The teahouse where the three of them sat facing one another was thick with a chilling cold. The other customers, sensing the ominous atmosphere, had already fled; the poor waiter stood pale as a sheet, hands trembling as he took their order.
“U-um, um, um… w-what would you like to o-order…”
“Hey.”
“Eek! I-I’m so sorryyy—!!”
At Friga’s razor-edged word the waiter bolted. She hadn’t called him over to torment an innocent employee.
She had been calling the man sitting across from her—Iscal.
Roll, roll.
Iscal seemed to know it too; his eyes darted left and right, unable to meet Friga’s gaze.
“Hey. You gonna answer or what?”
When Friga’s patience finally snapped and she spoke in a low voice, Iscal snapped to attention at last.
“Y-yes! My lady!”
“Spit it out. This bitch—who is she?”
Friga cut straight to the point. Iscal’s throat bobbed as he glanced at her axe. The blade, honed to a pale, murderous edge, seemed to demand an answer.
“W-well, Selina isn’t in the kind of improper relationship Your Highness is thinking of—”
Selina’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, then lit up.
Now that she looked closer, this “Your Highness” was the Apostle who had hunted a dragon. Such an impressive woman seemed to have feelings for Iscal… and Iscal apparently had no idea…
Lick.
Mischief sparkled in Selina’s eyes.
She smelled something fun.
“Hmm~ I thought I’d seen you somewhere. You’re the famous dragon hunter, Princess Friga, aren’t you?”
Selina sliced clean through Iscal’s excuses. The emerald eyes visible between the folds of her robe gleamed seductively. Iscal felt an inescapable sense of foreboding.
What on earth was this woman up to?
“Ha! That’s right. I’m Friga Nix, daughter of the North, of Montegros. And who the hell are you?”
“Mmm~ I am…”
Selina’s eyes curved into sly crescents as she smiled.
“Someone who shares… all sorts of secret things with Iscal. A very intimate relationship?”
Bang!
“W-w-what kind of nonsense is that!! Speak accurately! We aren’t that kind of relationship at all!!”
“…Ha!”
Iscal shot to his feet in protest at Selina’s loaded remark, while Friga merely snorted.
This cheeky little alley cat thought she could provoke her with something so shallow?
Friga was not about to fall for such a cheap taunt.
“And what about you, Your Highness? What’s your relationship with Iscal that you’re acting like this? From what I heard, you two aren’t even lovers…”
Crack.
Friga’s composure shattered. She leaned forward across the table toward Selina.
“Hey, who said that? Who the hell said he and I aren’t dating?”
“Hmm~ Everyone?”
“Wow, this bitch is seriously cheeky. Hey, what are you? So if we’re not dating, what—you gonna date him instead? Marry him?”
“U-um, both of you seem a little too worked up—”
The atmosphere was heating rapidly. Iscal tried desperately to mediate, but there was no stopping Friga once she was boiling.
“Marry Iscal… I might. After all, we’ve shared my most intimate, unspeakable secrets.”
Selina’s meaningfully loaded words!
A vein bulged at Friga’s temple. For her, she had already held back a long time.
I was trying not to hit anyone in front of Iscal!
Clench—
The instant she could no longer restrain herself and balled her fist—!
“Well, Iscal seems to like Your Highness more, though.”
“…What?”
“Eh…?”
At Selina’s words, Friga’s fist went slack. She stared blankly at Selina.
“Hey. Hey, you. S-say that again. Wh-what did you just say?”
“I said Iscal likes Your Highness a whole lot.”
“…Uh, uh?”
Selina was sweating coldly under her robe.
Just now she had felt an extremely thick killing intent. That clenched fist of Friga’s—if she had been even a fraction of a second later, that solid knuckle would have pulverized her face.
Scary…
Friga grumbled with a face flushed bright red.
“Ha, seriously! I-I’m so flabbergasted I can’t even—! Hey, hey! Why’s your face turning red too?!”
“N-no, Your Highness! I mean—uh, um, that is, ahem!”
The air that had been stretched taut enough to snap melted away at once, leaving only a man and woman exchanging idiotic conversation. Selina leaned back in her chair, stretching out a body that had been wound tight with tension even if she hadn’t shown it.
She let out a small sigh.
She had thought she’d finally found an interesting man after a long time—only to discover a terrifying wolf standing guard over him.
Grin.
Still, giving up so easily would be no fun. When Selina wanted something, she always got it.
There’ll be plenty of chances from now on.
Her wicked tongue flicked across her lips.
Once the frozen atmosphere of the teahouse had thawed somewhat, and Friga and Iscal—faces still scarlet from their foolish banter—were silently sipping their tea—
“Someone has come out of the Gate of the Holy Land—!!”
A cry that set the entire Holy City buzzing reached their ears.
Friga and Iscal locked eyes, then both shot to their feet.
“Hey, let’s go!”
“Yes, my lady!”
“Hmm~ And me?”
“You… ah, damn it, just follow us!”
Friga, Iscal, and Selina.
The three of them raced down the main avenue toward the Gate of the Holy Land.