You Had Planned Everything
The mastermind.
To track down the Death God Cult, what he needed most were money and manpower.
Until now, his father had covered the expenses, so finances had never been a real concern. That was no longer the case.
He had no justification.
So, Father… in about two years the Undead King will resurrect and the apocalypse will begin. To stop it I need money and people. Think you could spare some?
As if he could ever say something like that.
Self-sufficiency.
He would have to acquire it himself.
In that sense, this would help.
Clink—
At last he found the key in the opposite pocket.
It looked like an ordinary key, yet he could feel the magic lingering on it.
A key with an added magical lock.
It was identical to the reward Laward could obtain in the game after killing Karma.
If one chose [Open the safe with the key], the safe yielded the gold bars Karma had amassed over a lifetime, along with the organization’s ledgers and membership roster.
Find that safe and money would cease to be a problem.
The real issue was how to get inside the hideout.
There was always the method Laward had used in the game—walk through the front door and slaughter everyone.
But if he wiped out every guild member, he would lose usable manpower.
They specialized in infiltration and assassination; that was why they had taken the contract in the first place.
There were no better pawns for hunting the Death God Cult’s trail.
And if things went south, they were perfect for cutting loose or discarding without regret.
It would be a waste not to make use of them.
“Hmm.”
Or he could simply use Lucia.
Lucia could enter the hideout without raising the slightest suspicion.
He could even order her to fetch everything from the safe.
Yet even though he was her sponsor, they had met only once.
Her favorability was probably close to zero.
Whether she would obey him without question was—
“Wooooah!”
A sudden roar of cheers made him flinch and turn. Ester stood surrounded by soldiers.
“Eh… e-eh…?”
She glanced around at them with the terrified face of a rabbit that had been cornered.
“You saved us! Academy student!”
One soldier seized both of Ester’s hands and squeezed them tightly.
“If you hadn’t come, we all would have died! Thank you…! Hrk… sob…”
“N-no… I only did as my sponsor instructed…”
Ester shot Daywin a desperate look for help.
But as her head turned toward him, the soldiers’ gazes followed.
“Young Master… forgive us for doubting you.”
One of them bowed deeply at the waist; as if on cue the rest offered the same respectful salute.
“Young Master…! The student you brought saved our lives…!”
“We are truly in your debt!”
Their attitude had flipped so completely that it was hard to believe these were the same men who had sneered at him earlier.
Just as the urge to mock them right back rose in his chest—
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Hoofbeats thundered. Heads turned instinctively toward the sound.
Squinting to focus, Daywin saw riders galloping under the Hasgard family banner.
“Father! Over here! We heard an explosion in this area!”
The eldest Hasgard called out to their father.
“Romons… Daywin… they must be safe…”
“Do not worry, Father. N-nothing serious will have happened! They simply lost their way, that’s all.”
The first son deliberately raised his voice, trying to reassure their father—despite the rigid tension on his own face.
They rode hard, soldiers in tow.
To the left of the eldest Hasgard rode their father; to the right, their mother.
Unlike the two worried men, the Countess wore a look of pure fury.
“Ugh.”
He had not expected Mother to come as well.
A chilling presence washed over his entire body.
Countess Hasgard had a massive battle-axe strapped to her back and was clad in full plate.
Most people pictured a countess as a delicate woman a decade younger than her husband, but possessing the body of the Hasgard family’s youngest son had shattered that prejudice for good.
His mother stood nearly 180 centimeters tall, with a frame of pure steel.
She looked every inch the warrior.
He still could not understand his father’s taste.
Or perhaps it was the opposite—perhaps Father had been the one who matched Mother’s taste, and that was how the marriage happened.
Or maybe he had simply been caught.
“Diar.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Countess Hasgard kept her eyes fixed ahead as she addressed her eldest.
“Do not show unease. There are many watching.”
“…I apologize.”
“This is not a battlefield; it is the Subjugation Festival. Nothing will go wrong.”
“But…”
“A Hasgard man dies on the battlefield. I have never raised a son so weak he would perish in a place like this.”
“…Yes, Mother.”
A moment later their father drew near, dismounted, and called out.
“You there!”
In his agitation he had apparently mistaken Daywin for one of the Holy Knights.
“Have you seen a crest like this in the vicinity…?”
He pointed to the twin-spear emblem engraved on his rounded armor, then realized he no longer needed to ask.
“…Daywin?”
At last he recognized him.
And seized Daywin’s shoulders in a crushing grip that hurt.
Seeing the man’s pupils tremble, the eldest Hasgard and Mother also swung down from their mounts.
“Daywin! You’re unharmed!”
Diar clanked toward them in his heavy armor, somehow managing a run.
“Daywin, are you injured? And what is this white armor…?”
Father and eldest brother patted him down, checking every inch of his body as thoroughly as an airport security search.
While shaking off their probing hands, Daywin’s eyes met Mother’s.
“……”
She said nothing and simply looked away.
Surely she, too, had a mountain of questions.
After a pause she asked only one.
“Where is Romons?”
“Brother is…”
“I’m fine!”
As if on cue, Romons strode over with one arm raised high.
“Romons! Th-there’s blood on your chest…!”
Just as they had done with Daywin, Father and the eldest brother began pawing over the middle son to check his condition.
“I’m perfectly all right. The student the youngest brought along healed me completely! Hahaha!”
Romons recounted everything that had happened after they separated—the appearance of the assassins, Daywin’s timely arrival—detail by detail, as though telling a heroic tale.
Just as the story was winding down—
“Romons. Daywin.”
Mother’s cold voice dropped low.
“We need to talk.”
Both of them flinched and froze solid.
We need to talk.
Sit down for a moment.
Those were the magical phrases that made every son raised by a strict mother tense up on instinct.
The middle Hasgard, who had been laughing so brightly only seconds earlier, now wore a shadowed expression.
Looking as defeated as a routed soldier, he trudged over.
“Y-you called for us, Mother.”
Romons snapped to attention.
Daywin stood equally rigid beside him.
“Romons.”
“Yes!”
“I hear the goblins were behaving strangely.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Why did you not retreat at once?”
“That is…”
“I have told you repeatedly that retreat is every bit as important as advance.”
“I… I did think of retreating. However…”
“Pathetic. You ‘thought’ of it? I would have listened if you had a real reason for staying. Instead all I hear is excuses.”
One of Mother’s eyebrows arched sharply.
“If you had been alone, fine—engage or fall back as the situation demanded. But the soldiers following you? Your father entrusted them to you. Yet your arrogance and indecision nearly led them all to their deaths.”
“…I have no excuse.”
At some point Romons’s gaze had fixed permanently on the tips of his own boots.
“Worst of all, that careless judgment nearly cost you your own life. Had your younger brother not arrived, you would already be a cold corpse.”
That final sentence was the heart of it.
The true reason for Mother’s fury was neither Romons’s arrogance nor his indecision.
She simply refused to express it the way Father or the eldest brother would.
Only Daywin, living his second life, understood her real feelings.
In his previous life—now so utterly changed—Mother had fallen ill after Romons’s death and never recovered.
“Daywin.”
Then it was his turn.
“U-uh… yes.”
He could not help imagining what arrow would strike him.
He swallowed dryly.
Whap—!
Mother’s hand cracked across his back in a full swing.
“Guhk!”
The hand came before the words.
“Do not do anything reckless.”
Even though he wore armor that could stop a high-speed dagger, somehow Mother’s palm still stung fiercely.
Karma… lost.
Lucia, who had tailed Karma all the way to the Subjugation Festival, had watched every development from the shadows.
How the guild members had herded the goblin horde into Romons’s forces.
How Daywin had intervened midway and reduced the forest to ashes.
The duel between Karma and Daywin.
She had watched it all with her heart in her throat.
—So Lucia came as well?
And Daywin had said that.
The instant he saw Karma’s face, he had spoken those words clearly.
He knew everything.
Daywin had known exactly whom Lucia worked for.
He had known her circumstances down to the last detail.
Unbidden, she remembered their first meeting.
—I want you to focus on your studies.
It had been the same then.
Even though they had never met before, his eyes had looked as if they could see straight through her.
—It’s not that you can’t quit, is it?
Those eyes—eyes that seemed to know everything, eyes that might suddenly dig into her life—had repelled her.
A noble born with parents, wealth, and status all handed to him on a silver platter…
—I’ll have to deal with them one by one anyway.
She also recalled the offhand remark he had made.
One by one.
Deal with them one by one.
At the time she had not understood his intent.
And then Karma had died.
Daywin Hasgard had killed him.
So “deal with them” meant…
Had he already planned to kill Karma from the very beginning?
That was what he meant…
The fact that Daywin recognized Karma’s face was far too unnatural to dismiss.
He must have finished his background checks in advance.
Then was their meeting at the Subjugation Festival pure coincidence?
—Somehow this feels ominous. It could be a trap.
Those had been Lucia’s own words.
A trap.
At the time she had said it casually, just to stop Karma, yet on second thought it was not impossible.
In fact, had Daywin not been waiting for Karma all along?
Not the prey, but the hunter.
He planned everything.
Just as he had with Laward.
Just as he had with Ester.
If a young sprout could blossom beautifully, he would become anything necessary—sunlight, water, soil.
Is there even an order to it?
Had that same salvation finally come to her as well?
Was she allowed to hope for a life different from before?
Can I be saved too…
“Shh. Don’t turn around. Just listen.”
A sudden voice yanked her back to reality.
“It’s me, Lucia.”
A masked assassin now stood right behind her.
“I never heard you were coming, but… whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”
The guild assassin raised his bow with practiced ease, aiming at the Hasgard family.
“Lucia… Karma is dead. That monster of a bastard killed him… We can’t just go back like this.”
The nocked arrow pointed at each member of the Hasgard family in turn.
“Those bastards. They think it’s all over—they’re practically throwing a festival. They have no idea we’re still here.”
Gulp.
The assassin swallowed and continued.
“Lucia, get ready. When I loose the arrow, you charge in the opening. They’ll panic for sure. In that chaos you should be able to take at least one more head.”
“…Lucia doesn’t understand.”
“What?”
“What would that change?”
“We have to take revenge!”
The assassin snapped as quietly as he could manage.
“We’re the dogs Karma raised…! Even if the master dies, we keep our loyalty to the very end… to the very end…!”
Those words clawed through Lucia’s mind.
Dogs.
Was there any title that fit them better?
She had been trained since childhood.
How to move when the master spoke, how to hunt, how to obey.
The master provided a place to live; she ate whatever was given.
If ordered to bite, she bit.
If she resisted, she was beaten.
“…Dogs.”
“We’re not targeting the one in the white armor. No point—it won’t work. But if we hit anyone else from this range, it’ll be a fatal wound. Watching family die will hurt worse than any arrow…”
At the word “family,” Lucia automatically thought of her younger siblings.
The only reason she had never complained while living as Karma’s dog was to protect them.
She had lived for the things that mattered.
“I know you’ve always wanted to leave the guild. Going to the Academy of all places… you wanted an ordinary life, right? But… we’re still us. This isn’t the time to hesitate. Our hands are already filthy.”
“I’m not hesitating. Just like you said, I’m a dog. Lucia is loyal to her master.”
“Good. Then I’m shooting.”
The moment the assassin, face tight with tension, drew the bowstring—
Slash!
Lucia’s sword flashed.
A single stroke too fast to follow.
Her blade opened the assassin’s throat.
“Ghk… Lu…cia… why…”
“I told you.”
Dark crimson blood half-covered Lucia’s face.
“Lucia is loyal to her master.”