What Festival Is This? (1)

Eric spat out his words in a frantic rush.

According to him, the butler had been the one to bring up the drug trade first, claiming there was big money in it, and Eric had simply followed along. But even though the promised delivery date had long since passed, the goods never arrived. When he vented his anger at the butler, the man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made vague promises about securing a new contract, then abruptly cut off all contact and vanished into thin air.

He insisted that he, too, had been nothing but disposable bait, used and discarded.

"It's a common tactic, honestly. Dumping everything onto an accomplice who hasn't been caught yet."

"Th-that's not what it is!"

He clearly knew nothing about actual distribution, either. Judging by his behavior back at the restaurant, he wasn't acting — this was the real him.

A puffed-up fool of exactly that age, running his mouth about having drugs or whatever, until some nasty upperclassmen decided to sink their hooks into him. That was precisely the caliber of person he turned out to be.

'And then, desperate to escape that torment, he launched a confession offensive at that girl.'

He had no drugs in hand, but the pressure from the upperclassmen kept coming. So as a last resort, he'd apparently planned to seduce the top student of the Academy and use her as a shield.

Something about how that girl had earned the most extraordinary grades in the history of Eretz Academy — famous enough that every student on campus knew her name.

"Just bear with it. If he gets his way with her, she won't survive it."

'Hmm, so that's the level of it?'

FWOOSH—!

"HYAAAH?!"

I flicked the 'failed experiment' I'd been toying with on my fingertip high into the air.

"It's about time we put the children to sleep."

"I... suppose so."

Looking outside the cathedral, I saw the sun was beginning to set. Better to send them home before it got too dark.

I walked over to Eric and untied his ropes.

"Can you make it back on your own?"

"...Uh, wha? Yesh?"

The Academy grounds were visible just down the hill. I hardly needed to escort him — he'd find his way well enough on his own.

"Good. Thanks for your cooperation. Oh, and about today—"

I raised a finger to my lips.

"Well, I trust I don't need to spell it out."

Leaving Eric standing there in a daze, I headed off toward the orphanage with Zakina.

Only after the two figures had completely disappeared did Siwoo carefully climb over the cathedral window frame.

"Are you alright, student?"

Confusion flickered in the eyes of Eric, who sat slumped blankly in a cathedral pew.

"...Who are you?"

"A member of the Academy staff. I witnessed you being dragged here and followed you. Tell me — were you hit by a charm spell?"

"Ah, that, yes, exactly.... S-something... s-something like that."

Eric gave a deliberately vague answer.

'No way I can mention anything about drugs in front of a staff member.'

And in fairness, from Eric's perspective, what had happened to him was practically indistinguishable from a charm spell. That was the story he'd settled on for himself.

At Eric's answer, Siwoo's expression turned grave.

'She shouldn't even be capable of casting magic, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how? Was it a ritual... no, then her being alive until now makes no sense.' 'How exactly has the original story fallen apart?'

Muttering rapidly to himself, Siwoo brought his hand to rest just in front of Eric's head.

"Pardon me for a moment."

"...Huh?"

"Status Window."

The protagonist of Grmesa possessed a unique magic — 'the Eye that Sees Mana' — which manifested for Siwoo as a status window visible only to himself. A blue screen woven from mana unfolded before Siwoo's eyes.

"Thankfully, it seems the charm has worn off."

"Oh... has it?"

At Siwoo's words, Eric paused to recall Alpinia, and his face promptly flushed crimson — but Siwoo was far too busy scanning their surroundings to notice.

'This is the Chapter 2 boss stage room, though.'

The Chapter 2 boss — Father Brown's cathedral. Father Brown kidnapped the women who came to his confessional and locked them away in his underground torture chamber. Rescuing the captured victims alongside the protagonist's companions was the main story quest of Chapter 2.

And yet, in the cathedral right now, an entirely different boss occupied Father Brown's place.

'There's no way Father Brown and Zakina would ever work together.'

Father Brown, who projected his twisted desires onto women, and Zakina, who held an absolute loathing for male sex criminals, could never coexist. If the two of them were ever to meet—

'Zakina would swallow him whole.'

Physically.

In the original story, the two never crossed paths. Father Brown kept to his own domain near the cathedral, and Zakina never once set foot outside the back alleys of Carpen.

'Nothing ordinary could ever catch Zakina's attention.'

So what on earth had drawn the so-called Avatar of Lust out here?

'And that's exactly what I intend to confirm for myself, starting now.'

Siwoo slipped his hand behind the crucifix, and before long, a secret passage swung open with a click.

"Big sis, look, look! Aren't I amazing at cutting?"

"Check out my dagger-throwing form, big sis!"

I'd been told that if you laid them down, they'd fall asleep on their own. They are not lying down at all, these kids.

They were tugging at both my arms. For some reason, I got the feeling that the more my life force drained away, the more energetic they became. Or was that just my imagination?

While I was being tormented by the children in full swing, Zakina — who had gone off to put the kids in the other rooms to bed — returned to the children's dormitory.

"You were waiting for me?"

"The Deputy Director contacted us personally on an emergency line."

"Mm."

Kedrick, of all people. Why?

"There's a problem with the drug offenders you apprehended, Lady Alpinia. During interrogation."

"What kind of problem?"

Wait, what could the problem possibly be? They were definitely criminals. There was evidence, too. Caught red-handed at the scene — I could say that with total confidence.

"Brody, the boss of the drug offenders — he's dead."

Oh.

He's dead?

Dead?

He died?

So he's dead.

Did someone kill him?

Someone killed him.

Who?

"Calm down. The 'Fuse' wasn't the cause."

Ah.

"His arms were properly treated. There was no threat to his life whatsoever."

Well, that's a relief, then.

"Apparently there was a sigil engraved on the roof of his mouth. Set to activate the moment he spoke or even thought a specific word."

A sigil engraved inside the mouth — there was one suspect that sprang to mind.

"Blood magic."

"Exactly. Morgue."

'Quiet for a while, and now they pull this again.'

I clicked my tongue briefly.

Serket — the criminal syndicate that had bound a patchwork of rival organizations into a single whole. Morgue was one of Serket's four great factions.

Their goal itself wasn't evil.

The boundless advancement of magic, and the pursuit of the unknown. Scholars, researchers, seekers, pioneers.

Their stated purpose was, in the end, to contribute to the welfare and progress of humanity — to inscribe themselves into the history of humankind. That was the kind of people they were.

Really — in terms of pure ideology, they ranked among the more benign of the lot, compared to the other three factions that were twisted from the very foundation of their beliefs.

The problem was their methods. No hesitation about grinding human beings up as sacrificial material — and then wrapping it all up in the language of noble sacrifice.

For example. One of the atrocities Morgue had committed:

Under the banner of creating a cure for every disease in the world, that man carried out an appalling campaign of terror.

He would scatter loaves of bread, laced with his own experimental drugs, across slum villages. Targeting children who couldn't even scrape together a proper meal, he repeated the practice all across the land.

And sure enough, some of the sick did recover — just as he claimed. The problem was that everyone else, the ones outside that lucky fraction, all turned into monsters.

That was how twisted, deformed creatures began appearing across the entire Empire.

The Emperor himself stepped forward and declared that man the sworn enemy of the continent, to be eradicated. On the other side, people broke their backs trying to hold back the surging tide of monsters. Eventually, even Morgue's own leadership cut him loose, insisting he had no connection to them.

And so, branded the enemy of the world, that man stood before the tribunal and delivered his grand oration.

'They ate the food of their own free will. I never once forced them to eat it.'

'If anything, it was I who graciously forgave them for stealing my food and medicine.'

Right up until that tongue of his burned to ash in the fire, he wailed about his innocence and his wrongful persecution. He was the true seeker devoted to humanity's cause — so why, he demanded, did the world torment him so?

"The other offenders all say the same thing — that the boss 'came back with magic sigils engraved on both arms.' They claim they know nothing beyond that."

"Cutting loose at the very end — that's Morgue to a T."

Scatter bread across the starving streets, then walk away. If you lingered to keep watch, no one would dare touch the bread.

And never checking the details of how things unfold — that was both the reason Morgue's people were so rarely caught, and the single biggest cause of their plans failing.

If they fail, they fail. So be it.

"They'll simply try again. It's what Morgue does."

"I suppose so."

They would only prepare their next scheme in grim silence.

I had no idea what convoluted reasoning had led them to try selling drugs at the Academy in the first place — but these ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were not people who gave up just because their 'supply line and distribution channel' had been dismantled.

"You're instructed to remain in the Magic City for the time being."

"I see."

Someplace out there, the rat that had severed its own tail and fled was surely lying low, cooking up its next move.

Hence the overtime. Having been interrupted twice, the culprit would be that much more careful now — and would be watching me, the presumed source of those failures.

Zakina and I spoke at the same time.

"I'll stay behind and act as the suppressor."

"And I'll be the detonator, ready to set off at a moment's notice."

...Huh?

"......"

"Pfft. Ah, a supp—"

I shot her a silent glare, and she quickly looked away.

"Anyway, that means we'll have to leave the investigation of Duke Denis and everyone around him to our dear Deputy Director."

At my words, Zakina tilted her head in puzzlement.

"Weren't we done with that when you brought him in? The case of a stupid son being used by criminals."

"No, we're not."

I gently laid the children — rubbing their sleepy eyes on either side of me — down into their beds.

"By any measure, that boy didn't feel like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone who could be called 'the Elder.'"

There was no way a mere judge's son could throw his weight around with the investigation division or the Imperial Guard. Especially not that Judge Denis — a man famous for his utter lack of flexibility.

'If it were that old man, the moment his son asked him to look the other way for drug dealers, he'd start with a backhanded slap.'

I rose quietly from my seat and eased the door shut so the children wouldn't wake.

"Oh, right — come to think of it, they say these secret party invitations have been circulating around the Magic City lately."

"Is that so."

"So don't go barging into it with no plan and blowing the whole thing sky-high this time. Slip in quietly and investigate properly... Th-this is a message from the Deputy Director, by the way."

That was slander. I always think things through and act with plenty of caution, thank you very much.