"Matyos. Someone's tailing us."
Shu, who had been perched on my shoulder, slid down into my field of vision.
Her small body hovered in the air, but her expression was far more serious than usual.
"Be careful. It's not a civilian."
I tilted my head toward her and whispered.
"Then what?"
"I can feel Demonic Energy. It's the Covenant Cult."
"Covenant Cult… Ah, the Black Covenant."
The Covenant Cult.
A fanatical sect from thousands of years ago that had worshipped the Demon King.
At one point their power had grown vast enough to shake the world, but history changed as countless heroes rose to meet them.
The Demon King was sealed beneath the depths of the Abyssal Pit, and with him, the Covenant Cult crumbled as well.
But they hadn't vanished entirely.
The Black Covenant.
The remnants of the Covenant Cult, continuing under a new name.
The ones lurking in the shadows, working to unseal the Demon King imprisoned in the Abyssal Pit.
"How many?"
I asked, barely moving my lips.
"One. Been following us for a while now."
I lowered my head slightly and thought.
Their target was obvious.
Huana.
The bloodline magic of the Hispanya royal family.
The 'Eternal Flame.'
A flame that could never be extinguished.
Few powers were as effective against demons as that.
"What should we do? Catch them?"
"We don't have to. Even if we did, they'd just be some low-ranking grunt with no real information. We'd only put them on guard for nothing."
Their target was Huana.
There was no need to grab the tail and start asking why they were following us, who they were.
For now, it was just surveillance.
"Hey, what's wrong with you? Does your neck hurt?"
Just then, Huana pushed her face close to mine.
Those blue eyes were peering at me from right in front of my nose.
"Uh… no?"
"What is it, then."
Huana tilted her head, then suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled.
"Anyway, come on. We have a lot to do today!"
Her red hair swayed as she moved.
We wandered all over the streets.
We ate snacks from street stalls, browsed a toy shop, and stopped for a while in front of some busking musicians.
Eventually we stepped into a restaurant.
I slid a plate across to her.
"This is called fried rice. Never seen it before, right? It's like a commoner's dish from the East. The way you eat it is… like this. You scoop it up with chopsticks."
Porca, with its thriving trade, overflowed with food from all manner of cultures.
Eastern dishes were among them.
Fried rice, noodles, stew-like dishes.
"…Are you sure you eat that with chopsticks?"
"Y-yes, of course? People from the East all use chopsticks."
And she tried to pick up some fried rice.
Scritch.
The grains slipped right through the chopsticks.
She tried again.
Slip.
They fell out again.
Huana's chopstick technique was decidedly clumsy.
Third attempt.
This time she barely managed to pinch a single grain.
But before it reached her mouth—
Plop.
It fell.
"…"
Huana's face went stiff.
"Originally."
She said.
"People from the East eat slowly."
This, from someone who had tried the chopsticks more than ten times and still hadn't gotten a single proper bite.
I quietly picked up a wooden spoon.
Scooped up a spoonful of fried rice.
And held it out to her.
"This is wha—" *mph.*
"Fried rice is eaten with a spoon. Noodles are what you use chopsticks for."
"Wh-what would you know…"
I handed her the spoon.
Huana reluctantly took it and ate the fried rice.
She'd probably already sensed herself that chopsticks weren't the right call.
We finished the meal and wandered the streets again.
As the night deepened, the street vendors began packing up one by one.
The lanterns went out, and the crowds thinned.
We stopped in front of the academy.
"This is where we part for tonight."
Huana said.
"Next time I'll take you somewhere even more fun."
"I'll look forward to it."
Huana glanced at me for a moment, then snapped her head away.
"W-well then, go!"
Her red hair swayed as she walked away into the distance.
"Shu."
I watched her retreating figure for a moment before speaking.
"Has that person disappeared yet?"
"No, they're behind you."
"Me?"
That was strange.
They were following me, not Huana?
'I should catch them, then.'
I deliberately turned down a dim alley.
I spread my mana outward, widening my detection range.
A single presence at my back followed along.
'Shu.'
'Yeah.'
I exchanged a signal with Shu.
I spun around and ran.
The figure that had been creeping along the wall in the shadows lurched and tried to bolt.
Whoosh!
A heavy gust of wind swept through.
The stalker lost their footing and tumbled to the ground.
I pinned them down and drew my sword.
Shing.
I pressed the blade to the side of their neck and spoke in a low, threatening tone.
"Why are you following me?"
"P-please spare me. I don't know anything!"
What the hell is this guy's deal.
"I-I'm just someone who does what he's told. I swear…!"
Absolutely terrified.
If you're a member of a criminal organization, shouldn't you have at least a little backbone?
He surrendered the moment a blade touched him.
"Why were you following me."
"That's…"
I pressed the sword closer to his neck.
The cold edge grazed his skin.
A bead of blood welled up.
"H-hiiik!"
"Then talk. That's why I'm asking."
"Chechilron!"
The stalker cried out.
"Boss Chechilron told me to! He said to keep an eye on you…"
"Why would he do that."
"…I don't know that part."
"You really don't know?"
"I don't…"
The man was blubbering as he confessed.
Shu spoke up.
"Try stabbing him. He might spill everything then."
"…Stab him?"
"Yeah, anywhere along the spine. Most people can't hold back when the pain hits."
…What a chilling thing to say.
But it was worth trying.
I set the tip of my sword against the middle of the stalker's back.
The sharp point pierced through his clothes and pressed firmly into flesh.
"Ah, ah…!"
"Last chance. Talk."
"I-I really don't know!"
He was on the verge of tears, as if genuinely wronged.
"No, he's lying. Matyos, stab him."
Shu, crouching in front of the man's face, said it plainly.
She lightly flew up, grabbed my blade, and drove it downward.
Thunk…
The tip sank into his spine.
"H-hiiik!"
The man let out a strangled shriek.
"I-I'll talk!"
Oh, this bastard.
Thwack!
I smacked the flat of the blade against the top of his head.
"Gkh!"
"You should've said that from the start. So what is it? Tell me."
"It… it's about your sister."
"My sister?"
A name I never could have anticipated.
Why was she coming up here?
"…Boss Chechilron has an interest in Ofilienne of Moretti."
"Huh."
"So his plan was to dig up information on you — her brother — find some leverage, and then use it to approach her…"
There were plenty of descriptions of Chechilron as a man obsessed with women.
He was the type to throw money away just to get his hands on one girl like Emily.
'But he's setting his sights on my sister too?'
Sister wasn't some ordinary person — she was the scion of a great noble house.
She was hardly someone a mere nouveau riche could presume to reach for.
'That's infuriating.'
The thought of some worthless wretch harboring filthy intentions toward my sister made my blood boil.
I took a deep breath and thought it through.
'…This wasn't in the original story. Is this because of me, too?'
Whatever the reason, the man was repulsive.
'But why does this guy have Demonic Energy on him?'
Chechilron was pure scum, entirely unrelated to the Black Covenant.
I wasn't going to find answers just standing here.
I decided to look into it gradually.
* * *
On the surface, Chechilron appeared to be a man of remarkable business acumen.
That wasn't entirely wrong.
He had deftly managed his trafficking and prostitution operations, building his shadow empire from the ground up.
With a Magistrate as his backer, his business never slowed.
Before long, he had grown into a businessman whose name any self-respecting noble had heard at least once.
Of course, it wasn't as though no one knew about his filthy dealings.
Those with decent intelligence networks knew exactly what Chechilron was.
But that was all.
Since he didn't trouble them directly, they left him alone.
Some nobles even patronized him, occasionally visiting to indulge in the carnal pleasures he provided — so there were those who actively supported him.
"Heh heh, don't worry. I'll never give you to anyone else."
Chechilron stroked Emily's hair with a sly smile.
Emily was a girl who suited his tastes perfectly.
Fresh, delicate features. Freckles that radiated innocence. Pale, smooth skin.
All of it reminded him of his first love from childhood.
"Only I will have you. You'd prefer that, wouldn't you?"
Chechilron had confessed to his first love.
But that love was never returned.
She had left him with cold words and gone off to marry a man more handsome and wealthy than he was.
Laughably, when he had finally acquired wealth and power and gone back to find her, she was no longer the person he had known.
The woman who had scorned and discarded him was now clinging to him, saying he was all she had — no different from a common whore.
"…You're not like her, are you? Emily. You won't abandon me the way she did."
"…Yes."
Emily answered with great difficulty.
She didn't know when she had ended up in this position.
She had simply been living an ordinary life, and somehow it had come to this.
Her parents' sudden accidental deaths.
Chechilron had willingly become her guardian and benefactor.
She attended school on his money, ate on his money.
Back then, she had thought it was all free.
But it wasn't.
'This is the money I've invested in you up to now. You'll have to pay it all back, won't you?'
Chechilron, presenting an outrageous bill.
'Th-that's absurd. There was never any agreement like that!'
'Then don't pay it back. Let's see what happens. Heh heh.'
Chechilron was cunning.
Even full-grown adults couldn't budge when money was involved.
Even knowing it was the road to ruin, humans would crawl into it of their own accord.
He knew exactly how to bind people with money and power.
It was a skill he took pride in.
How many people had he tied down this way over the years?
A girl who had come up from the countryside was even easier.
Just as he had planned, Emily had become entirely his.
"Tonight, wash up and wait for me in my bed."
"…"
He had waited.
He had counted the days, waiting only for her to reach the same age as his first love.
Now it was time to claim the fruit of that long patience.
Chechilron pressed a kiss to Emily's forehead, then left the bedroom.
He put on his formal suit and donned the mask that concealed his face.
It was time to do 'business.'
Just then, a shadow crept up and stood before Chechilron.
"…Hah, you again."
Chechilron looked at the shadow with undisguised weariness.
The shadow paid no mind to his reaction and spoke.
"The plan is proceeding, I trust."
"Yes, it's going smoothly, so stop coming around."
"I'll stop when I can trust you."
"What would it take to earn your trust?"
"Open your eyes to a new world."
Swish.
The shadow drew a black scripture from within its robes.
"Truly, truly — become a lamb of the Holy One."
"I'm fairly certain I told you no last time. Stop this and go find someone else."
"You did. But unfortunately, that person is dead."
It was referring to the basic mana instructor, Harsen.
They had gone to the trouble of granting him power, yet Professor Harsen had accomplished nothing and been killed by Moretti.
"Hearing that only makes me want to refuse even more."
"There are few humans as suited to the scripture as you."
"You mean I'm a lowlife? I know. A thoroughly rotten piece of garbage."
"Which is precisely why you're needed."
"Enough. What I have now is sufficient."
Chechilron walked past him.
The shadow watched Chechilron go, then cast a sidelong glance at Emily sitting blankly on the bed, before dissolving back into shadow.
Clack, clack, clack.
Chechilron walked the long corridor and opened the door.
Flash!
Lights blazed and flooded around Chechilron.
He drew a breath and called out.
"Welcome, everyone! Before anything else, I wish to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you who have graced my establishment tonight!"
Chechilron bowed.
To the 'guests' seated in the viewing gallery.
Every last one of them wore a mask.
"I won't waste your time with lengthy words! We shall open the shop at once. Let us see which dolls catch your eye tonight! Please look carefully and take home what pleases you. Now — begin!"
Snap!
Chechilron snapped his fingers, and the low scrape of iron chains dragging across the floor echoed through the room.
Clank, clank.
A brutish man hauled a woman up onto the stage.
A cold iron collar was fastened around her neck, connected to a thick chain. Under the lights, the chain glinted faintly.
The woman couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes, her head hanging low.
Through the curtain of disheveled hair, a pale face was visible.
Chechilron patted her shoulder lightly, as though presenting a prized object.
"Our first doll! Thirty years of age. Tragically, her husband passed away, leaving her a widow. Can you believe it? With skin like this, with beauty like this — and only thirty! Is there anyone here who would care for this unfortunate doll? We'll start at one thousand!"
A brief silence.
And then—
Tap, tap, tap.
Numbered paddles began rising one by one.
Low laughter seeped out from behind the masks.
"One thousand one hundred! One thousand one hundred."
"One thousand five hundred! One thousand five hundred on the floor. Any advance on one thousand five hundred?"
The air in the auction hall grew hot with excitement.
People leaned back in their chairs and waved their paddles. The eyes behind the masks gleamed with greed.
It was then.
At the back of the viewing gallery.
Quietly, a single paddle rose.
"Two thousand."
A mask concealed the face, but it couldn't hide the build.
A boy who looked remarkably young had his arm raised high.