A Rather Large Rat
"Damn it, hurry up and haul it already. If my pay gets docked again this time, I'll be sucking my thumbs till doomsday—"
Milo urged me on in a fretful voice. Apparently even a mad dog feared a pay cut.
"Right, let's move it fast."
At my nod, Milo followed along, his face brightening.
We left the underground warehouse and headed for the Auditorium. It was still bustling with preparations for the entrance ceremony, dozens of guards scurrying about like ants. I calmly swept my gaze over the crowd gathered there.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you carrying anything?"
Milo blurted out. At some point he'd already loaded himself down with a full stack of materials on his back. He really was terrified of that pay cut.
"Tch. It'd take forever to move all this."
"If you're told to do it, you do it—"
"That's how it goes. Dumb head, sore body."
"Why are you picking a fight all of a sudden?"
I clicked my tongue and turned my eyes away. That was when I spotted them near the Auditorium's rear entrance.
"Oh, there they are."
"Found what? Just grab a load and move, will you."
"There's a faster, easier way. Follow me."
"A faster, easier way? What in the—"
I headed straight for the rear entrance. The men slipped naturally in among the guards and filed out. The moment we left the Auditorium, their pace quickened, and the materials on Milo's back clattered noisily with every step.
"Our targets are Bedrick and his Inspectorate pet. Slack off even a little and they'll be on us like dogs on a bone."
"We just need to earn merit, then."
"Merit? This is hauling cargo. What merit is there to earn?"
When Milo asked back in sheer disbelief, I pointed at the men moving off in the distance.
"Catching the Republicans who snuck into the entrance ceremony."
"Republicans?"
Milo looked that way, then stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
Just then, the men stopped at an open lot where several carriages were parked. Guards who seemed to manage the carriages stood around, and the men blended in among them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"...They're actual Republic agents?"
"Yeah. A bunch of guys huddled in a secluded corner? Doesn't that scream suspicious?"
"That's all you've got? If they really are Republicans, we should call for backup and—"
"Hey there, Republic comrades!!"
I raised a hand in a casual wave. Every guard's head swiveled toward me, and none of the looks I got were friendly.
One of the guards stepped forward.
"You there. Who are you? State your affiliation."
I declared my affiliation and name with perfect confidence.
"Milo of Unit 42."
"Wait, why are you using my name—"
Milo grimaced and grumbled under his breath.
"What business does Unit 42 have here?"
"A couple of rats came scurrying this way, see."
"Rats? Haven't seen any."
"That's strange. They definitely headed this way—"
Then I added, nodding at the two men standing at the edge of the group:
"Republic rats, that is."
The moment the Republic came up, the guards' faces hardened in an instant. Hands closed around weapon grips, and the air grew so thick it felt like it would blow at any second.
"Ah, there they are."
At my pointed finger, one of the men stiffened almost imperceptibly — then quickly rearranged his face into an expression of utter bafflement.
"The Republic? What kind of lunatic nonsense is that? We've served in the guard for over three years."
"What would a green recruit know? Then again, I suppose that's why he got stuck in Unit 42."
"Your acting is quite natural. The Republic really is something else."
"This guy's completely off his rocker. You got any evidence?"
The men demanded in menacing voices. Milo too shot me a desperate look.
"There's evidence, right? Tell them there's evidence. Please say it."
His eyes were genuinely pleading.
Evidence, huh.
Unlike a black mage branded across the heart by a demon's pact, or a savage marked with strange tattoos, Republic agents bore no outward distinguishing features whatsoever. Their work was always thorough. Even if you seized those two and dug through their parents and their parents' parents, nothing would surface. Physical evidence was all but impossible to find.
"Don't have any."
"...What?"
"No evidence. Republic agents are a sneaky, gloomy lot — physical proof is practically impossible to come by."
"Y-you pulled this whole stunt without any evidence? This guy really is insane—"
Milo's face drained bone-white.
"But I've got something surer than evidence."
"Surer than evidence?"
"Yep. You two, over there."
I called out to the two men hiding in the very corner of the guard group. They stared back at me with looks of pure incredulity, and in the gap between us, a faint tension flickered.
The Republic's agents carried no mark on their bodies — but their minds bore a brand of a different kind: conviction. To them, the Chancellor was father and emperor and god all at once. They held him in awe beyond all reckoning.
Which meant—
"Say it: Chancellor you bastard."
The two men's pupils wavered, just barely. But they smoothed it over, folding their furrowed brows into natural irritation.
"What kind of ignorant garbage is that?"
"Say it: Chancellor you bastard. What, you can't?"
"Why the hell should I take orders from you, you rookie shit?"
They countered by the book, hiding behind logic. That was when Milo strode forward.
"Chancellor you bastard. Low-life scum. Parricidal bastard who killed his own parents. You bloated, arrogant sack of—"
Milo spewed profanity so raw and vivid it made even my eyes squint. No Republican could possibly endure it. The agent's brow knotted tighter and tighter.
"You traitorous dog! How dare you speak of the Chancellor, great as heaven itself—!"
Unable to hold back any longer, the Republicans drew their swords. It was, truly, a masterful provocation. The problem was—
"Th-they were ALL Republicans?"
Not just the two of them. Every single one of them was a Republican agent.
Six auras turned toward us.
Republic knights had a notorious reputation. Trained from childhood in brutally punishing knightly regimens, they were so vicious that even black mages clicked their tongues at the thought of them.
And there were six of them—
"Lucky me."
The corners of my mouth curled up high.
"Eager to die, are we, you dog?"
"Wait."
I raised a hand lazily. The Republicans' faces curdled into smirks.
"Begging for time? Too late, you dog."
"Now, I'll count to three. Drop your swords before I finish. One."
"Huh? This guy's actually got a hole in his head."
Hahahaha! The men burst out laughing.
"Three."
I pressed my thumb hard against the right side of my chest.
"A CURSE—!"
The men slammed their feet into the ground in a panic. Too late. Far too late.
Damn it, actual Republic agents, of all things—
Milo ground his lips as he watched the enemies close in. True to their reputation as Republic knights, their momentum was anything but ordinary — each one of them sharp as a freshly honed blade.
We're screwed.
Muttering curses under his breath, Milo lowered his stance and raised his fists. That was when a chill brushed against him from behind.
A curse?
He turned his head — and saw black blood surging up like a wave.
Once, Milo had been dragged to a black magic professor's lecture as a demonstration of curses. The curse that professor had unleashed back then would have looked like a child's prank next to this one — this was a curse of such depth it defied comparison.
Before he knew it, the curse had blanketed everything around them. Where it touched, the knights' muscles turned to mush, strength draining from their limbs. Those fearsome Republic knights froze in place like statues. Drool and blood streamed from their eyes, noses, and mouths, and terror bloomed across their faces.
Who the hell could cast a curse this vicious—
Then, from within the curse itself, someone walked out with unhurried dignity.
It was Grave. Grave strolled across the curse-soaked ground as lightly as if taking a walk in the park.
H-he was a black mage? Didn't he use divine power before?
Just then, Grave swung his sword.
Thock. Like an overripe fruit dropping from its stem, a Republic knight's head tumbled across the ground.
"Urk!"
The veins stood out on the remaining knights' hands as they strained with all their might, but their swords did not move so much as an inch. Grave walked among them, his blade flicking almost lazily.
Thock. Thock. Heads rolled across the floor like ripe fruit falling in an orchard.
This was not a battle.
It was a one-sided sentencing.
Just then, Grave's eyes met his. The man had just killed six people, yet his gaze was utterly dry — as if none of this meant anything at all.
Wh-what the hell did this guy used to do?
Without meaning to, Milo swallowed a dry gulp.
"Grab one of them. A decent-looking one."
Grave gestured briefly at the scattered heads.
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
Milo bobbed his head at once — then a question occurred to him.
"Just the one, sir?"
Catching Republic knights disguised as academy guards was a colossal merit. He'd caught six of them, no less — hauling in the whole set would make for a handsome reward.
Just one?
"If you take too much, you get promoted."
To Milo, it was a joke beyond all comprehension.
"Not a single thing moved."
Bedrick glared at the untouched stacks of materials and ground his teeth. It had been far too much for two men to begin with — he'd issued a deliberately excessive order, planning to pin the blame on them when they failed. And they hadn't moved so much as one piece.
Got you now.
Bedrick shot a sidelong glance at the woman beside him. Seira, of the Inspectorate. The kind of people even squad leaders tiptoed around. And with the entrance ceremony tomorrow, they'd been caught red-handed slacking off. No matter how much of a lunatic Unit 42 was, there would be no escaping this one.
"At this rate, the ceremony itself might be compromised."
Bedrick angled the remark toward the Inspectorate, testing the waters. Seira inspected the materials with a blank expression, then wrote something in the documents she'd been carrying all along and checked a box.
It's over.
Just as Bedrick grinned, a calm voice came from behind him.
"Ah, perfect timing."
He turned to find Grave and Milo standing there. Milo, sensing the gravity of the situation, had gone ghost-white as if he'd seen a demon — a most satisfying reaction.
But Grave was another story. The man looked fresh and rested, as if he'd just woken up from a nap.
Bedrick curled one corner of his mouth.
"I distinctly remember assigning you an important task. You abandoned your post without permission. The entrance ceremony is tomorrow, and you left the materials piled up like this."
"If you're in such a hurry, clear it yourself. You don't look busy."
"Wh—"
Bedrick's face twisted violently. He forced his fury down and spoke through it.
"I gave you that order, if I recall."
"Ah, something urgent came up."
"Something more urgent than the entrance ceremony preparations?"
Bedrick asked, sneaking another glance at Seira.
And Seira answered in her flat, dry voice.
"Unauthorized absence from one's duty post is a serious offense. With the entrance ceremony tomorrow, it qualifies for aggravated penalties. You will require a legitimate reason."
As if there's a reason more pressing than the entrance ceremony.
Bedrick sneered inwardly as he looked at the man. But Grave remained composed from start to finish.
"Caught some rats. Rather large ones."
"You abandoned your duty post... over rats?"
Seira, expressionless the entire time, narrowed her eyes slightly. Grave nodded, calm as still water.
"Yep."
"That does not qualify as sufficient reason."
"More than sufficient. These were big rats."
"...Big rats, you say?"
"Milo."
Grave gestured to Milo. With a stiff face, Milo untied the bundle slung over his shoulder and held it open.
Thud.
What rolled out of the bundle was a human head, mottled with dried crimson blood.
"Insufficient?"
Grave asked in a toneless voice. To Bedrick, the question sounded like an offer to fetch more if one wasn't enough.
"S-sufficient."
Bedrick, pale as a corpse, shook his head frantically.