32. Darkly and Secretly
32. Darkly and Secretly
"Right. Transformation it is."
I gathered holy power into my hand and pressed it to my stomach.
"Transform!"
Flash!
When the light faded, Allen Price was nowhere to be seen, and John Armstrong stood in his place.
Overwriting an avatar wasn't originally a holy magic exclusive to priests.
It was just that actors who hadn't majored in magic had no choice but to receive a priest's help.
Until a few months ago, even I could only transform with Archbishop Alex's help.
But as the saying went, even a dog at a village school could recite poetry after three years. After about three years of using the John avatar, I could finally transform on my own.
However, there was one thing that was a little disappointing.
'I want to make the transformation cooler.'
Especially something like a belt that plays a voice when transforming.
Unfortunately, I was a martial arts type, so that kind of delicate magic structure modification wasn't possible for me.
I was studying hard now, but it still looked like it would take quite some time before the transformation I wanted would come about.
Anyway, I stood in front of the mirror and inspected my body in its John form.
Sensory calibration complete. Voice setting complete. Personality setting complete.
Okay.
John Price... Dammit.
Again.
John Armstrong, on the scene.
*
In this world, an outstanding actor was synonymous with an outstanding combat operative.
And the state did not leave powerful, uncontrolled individuals alone.
Therefore, the state either imposes controls on them, or chooses to neutralize them—one of the two.
Even if that person was a friend of the ruler's child, there were no exceptions.
So the Emperor made John Armstrong a Hero affiliated with the Empire.
The other nations knew that too, since I'd been publicly appointed an imperial priest and awarded a medal.
But there was a problem in this process.
Publicly, 'Allen Price' was a normal(?) student.
Although I kept causing major incidents everywhere, I was still fundamentally a civilian.
Therefore, Allen, who had not yet graduated from the academy, could not officially act as a soldier.
The Emperor's solution was for me to live as Allen normally and transform into John whenever a mission required it.
As a result, I was living as Allen in the light, and as John in the shadows.
'So this was what they called a magical young man.'
Or was it?
Since I transformed into a middle-aged man, did that make me a magical middle-aged man?
While the internal debate over whether a youth transforming into a middle-aged man made him a magic youth or a magic middle-aged continued in my head, my legs automatically headed for the rendezvous point.
It would be best to head straight for the rendezvous point, but to create Allen's alibi, I needed to take a slight detour.
Only after slipping away unseen and putting some distance between myself and my apartment did I step out onto the street.
Ta-da. A world star appears.
".."
People paid surprisingly little attention to me.
Naturally, it had to be that way.
The intelligence department wasn't full of idiots—why wouldn't they give me a perception-inhibiting mask?
"Huh? That person..."
"Nah, can't be."
Even at Hetairo Academy, where every kind of genius gathered, a few people saw through the perception interference and grew suspicious of me. Once physical makeup was added as well, however, they stopped at puzzled looks.
I confidently entered the blacksmith's shop that was the rendezvous point.
After I arrived and gave the code phrase, the dwarf owner guided me to the weapon-testing room in the back.
Inside, Instructor Charles, who had arrived first, was there.
'The last place I saw Charles was a fan meeting, a fan meeting, a fan meeting....'
But since the character of John was originally so taciturn, I wasn't too worried about slipping up.
"It's been a while, Charles."
Speaking informally to the adjunct professor I'd met at the interview made the Confucian dragon inside me squirm, but I barely held it in and offered Charles a handshake.
"Do you remember me?"
"I have to remember the face of a target I saw less than five minutes ago. There's no way I'd forget the face of my fan."
"Ohhh... John looked at me...!"
Uh... why was this guy trying to kneel?
Seeing those eyes glistening with madness, I figured if left alone he would shout 'Remember me!' and run out with a bomb strapped to his body, so I stopped him.
Come to think of it, I'd been far too careless.
Being the fan club president meant he had proven his devotion among that enormous crowd of fans.
Whether physically, or through devotion.
At least he was a fanatic you could reason with. Somewhat.
I wondered if I'd be able to keep a firm hold on his leash during this mission, but fortunately, that concern proved unfounded: he cleared his throat and regained his composure.
"Ahem. I made a disgraceful spectacle of myself. You already know me, but allow me to introduce myself properly. Charles McTyler, First Brigade, Shadow Knights of the Leven Kingdom. I’ll be supporting you in this operation."
"You were an agent?"
"Knights of the Leven Kingdom serve as both agents and soldiers."
"You have your work cut out for you."
Even their agents were knights. Then again, it was the Knight Kingdom.
"What about the other nations?"
"They said they would not dispatch knights until we had solid intelligence."
"I see."
We were the ones who needed help.
Protect the treasure.
At a glance, it looked like a simple order to protect the treasures that were the academy students from the cultists.
And naturally, since Hetairo Academy had not only the Parma Empire's treasures but also the treasures of other nations, under normal circumstances the other nations should not have begrudged their support.
But not all treasures are equal in value.
Some treasures would merely hurt to lose, while others were valuable enough that you had to protect them even at the cost of everything.
The only country forced to stake everything on this operation was the Empire.
'Leon, Pia Parma.'
Because, of all things, two members of the imperial family had enrolled.
The staff officers of the other nations would have started tapping away at their calculators the moment they received the joint operation proposal.
And they would have come to this conclusion.
The Empire was the desperate one, so we'd sit this out.
That result led to the Empire being stuck holding the bag alone.
"In that case, why did the Leven Kingdom dispatch you?"
"I... volunteered."
Aha.
This wasn't a fan meeting.
I glared at him with cold, narrowed eyes.
He rolled his eyeballs around, avoiding my gaze.
'Sigh.'
Well, if I think about it positively, I guess thanks to this, the operation could go a bit more smoothly.
One more advantage was that, with only Charles and me involved, I didn't have to worry about information leaking midway through the operation.
"Let's head out first."
"Where do we start investigating?"
"It's obvious where the cockroaches would gather."
*
Hetairo Island had shadows too.
Though entry to the island was strictly controlled, once you got in, security was comparatively lax.
They couldn't repeatedly stop and search students already on edge from studying.
In the end, as in any medieval world with lax public order, demand gave rise to a black market.
Naturally, both the student council and the board knew that the black market existed.
But if they carelessly dismantled the black market, it would inevitably scatter into a cellular organization and hide deeper, so they judged it was more stable to leave it within arm's reach and keep monitoring it.
And so the black market existed under the silent tolerance of Hetairo Academy.
Only as long as they didn't cross the line.
But human greed knows no end, so among them there were always bastards who wanted to see what crossing the line was like.
Those kinds were located even deeper within the black market, preparing today as well to cross the line without getting caught.
.
.
.
A normal(?) bar in the black market.
In a place established in the black market to slightly evade liquor taxes or brew their own special moonshine, a record was spinning.
At each table, people were exchanging secret conversations, which flowed into the bartender's ears.
At most black-market bars, the main business would have been smuggling tax-evaded goods that Hetairo Academy tolerated, but the words exchanged here were far too serious to overlook.
Drugs, sacrifices, murder
If the bartender was an upright citizen, he should report this to the academy right away.
But he didn't.
Because this bar existed precisely for that purpose.
Because it was a place frequently used as a gateway when those who wanted to cross the line transitioned from the gray zone to the deeper shadows.
And this was the result of trust built over several years, as the customers' conversations had never been divulged to the outside by the bartender.
So today as well, the bartender intended to overlook their conversations.
He justified it by telling himself that the island would have grown a little darker from these crimes even if he hadn't provided the venue.
"Lord, forgive me again today."
He offered a prayer toward the emblem of the Cult of Rictus hanging at the entrance.
However, this wasn't because he was particularly devout.
That was because atonement was easier with Rictus than with the other gods.
While the bartender prayed, as always, to be a slightly less unrighteous accomplice, the bell over the entrance rang.
Jingle.
'Ah, it's a walk-in.'
The bar ran on a strict reservation system: it took bookings during the day and conducted business only during fixed evening hours.
With every reservation already filled, whoever had opened the door was either a walk-in criminal who didn't know the bar's rules or a student who'd wandered in by accident.
As expected, the two men who entered were men he didn't know.
One was a middle-aged man whose eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of a fedora, with a scruffy beard and long hair.
The other was a somewhat younger-looking, friendly-faced young man.
The bartender addressed the two men in a low, intimidating voice.
"Rookies. There's no glass for you two tonight. If you want a drink, read the rules at the entrance first before coming in."
But the two men didn't even pay the bartender any attention.
The moment they came in, they only looked around restlessly.
While doing so, the middle-aged man looked down at the young man and spoke.
"Me? You?"
"I'll do it."
At the young man's answer, the middle-aged man nodded and leaned against the entrance.
And click.
He locked the entrance.
As the atmosphere turned unusual and everyone in the bar half-perched on their chairs ready to get up at any moment, the middle-aged man took off his fedora and murmured.
"Manners, Maketh, Man."
"Fuck! It's John!"
"Why is the Empire here!"
The mere appearance of John sent most of the criminals into a panic.
But despite their words, no one ran away.
That was because this bar had no back door. (This was to prevent people from scamming and running away during a deal.)
Reluctantly, they raised their respective weapons and glared toward the entrance.
At that moment
Crunch.
The heads of those closest to the entrance burst first, then the darts embedded into the wall later.
I turned and saw Charles holding a pistol-style magic crossbow.
"I'm looking for cultists hiding in the academy. Does anyone know anything?"
Predictably, no answer came to Charles's question.
As if he knew it would be so, Charles leaped right into the middle of the criminal group.