Re:Zero - Archbishop of Vainglory : Chapter 31-35

Chapter 31: Deal Sealed, A Deadly Courtship

“——Two hundred Holy Gold Coins?!”

The instant Carlos named the price, Felt’s eyes turned into shining coins. She didn’t know what “middle class” meant, but that didn’t matter. Her pupils glittered, her mouth stretched as wide as it could go, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Then she swallowed hard. Forced herself to calm down. Her gaze sharpened as she stared at him with open suspicion.

“You’ve only got five Holy Gold Coins on you, right? Where are you getting that kind of money? And how am I supposed to trust you’ll actually pay me? Also… what do you even want me to do for that much? I’m not selling myself!”

“…What kind of stupid nonsense is that? Just because I didn’t bring money doesn’t mean I don’t have any. Besides,” he added, glancing at her crossed arms and then pointedly lower, “with that barren figure of yours, you wouldn’t be worth much anyway.”

Felt bristled, hugging her chest tighter as if guarding her principles. Carlos’ gaze flicked over what could generously be called an airfield. She looked no more developed than a twelve or thirteen-year-old. The fact that she’d jumped straight to selling herself struck him as ridiculous.

“What’s that supposed to mean?! I’m a beautiful girl, you know!”

“Your face is decent, sure. But with a body like that, you’d only attract people with… very specific tastes.”

“That’s just potential! …Though only attracting weirdos is definitely not a compliment.”

“Then let’s end this topic here and talk business.”

Ignoring her obvious displeasure, he dragged the conversation back on track. He was just about to continue when his eyes drifted to the bald giant still sprawled on the floor.

“…Is he dead?”

“Of course not! How rude!” Felt snapped. “That half-elf sister healed him a bit. Old Man Rom’s just unconscious, not dead!”

“Good. By the way, where’d that oddly dressed kid go?”

“He didn’t have anywhere else to be. The Sword Saint who showed up earlier invited him home as a guest. Lucky bastard,” she muttered, then looked back at Carlos. “So? Is this a theft job? What kind of thing is worth two hundred Holy Gold Coins? Let’s hear it first.”

She loved money, but once the initial shock faded, common sense kicked back in. She wasn’t about to be blinded by a number that big.

“Stealing, more or less,” Carlos said. “Just not in the usual way.”

He sat down on the filthy bar counter, eyes roaming over the room cluttered with stolen junk, and laid out his plan.

Simply put, there were supposed to be five Royal Candidates, but one was still missing. The knights were still searching. If Felt used her identity as the Dragon’s chosen, she could become a Royal Candidate and obtain a Dragon Insignia. After that, she’d just lend it to him for a few days. Deal done.

Proving it was easy. All he had to do was talk to Emilia and tell her he’d discovered that Felt could make the Dragon Insignia glow. With someone as kindhearted as Emilia, she’d definitely be willing to help a kid from the Slums prove her worth and change her fate.

Felt stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Hey, buddy. Do you really think messing with me is funny? You done yet? I haven’t made a single coin today. I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“I’m being serious,” Carlos said calmly. “I can even pay five Holy Gold Coins up front as a deposit. And honestly… if you really become a Royal Candidate, you won’t care about two hundred anymore. We’ll sign a contract. Without my help, you’ll never be able to prove your qualifications.”

A kid from the Slums claiming to be a Royal Candidate and asking to test a Dragon Insignia would just be laughed out of the room.

No one would hand over a national treasure for a casual test. An orphan from the Slums asking for it was even more absurd. In this deal, Carlos held all the leverage.

And despite not carrying much cash on him, money wasn’t actually a problem.

Using knowledge from his previous world, startup funds borrowed from Pandora, and cultists as unpaid labor, he’d produced simple tools and goods this world didn’t have yet. He’d set up a merchant association and made a tidy profit.

Seeing how confident he was, Felt wavered. His words still sounded like a fairy tale, but doubt crept in.

“…You’re really not kidding?”

“Truer than pure gold. If it fails, you keep the deposit.”

“——Deal!”

Between the massive reward and the nonrefundable five Holy Gold Coins, there was no way to lose. She snatched the coins, checked them, and broke into a brilliant grin.

Her invisible tail might as well have been wagging. Her excitement was written all over her face, and Carlos couldn’t help but chuckle.

They went over the details and agreed to meet here again tomorrow. He’d bring Emilia with him.

………………

With the plan set and a magic contract signed, Carlos left the Slums in high spirits, fully intending to get some proper sleep.

But the moment he climbed back through the window into his room, he froze.

A tall, voluptuous black-haired beauty stood silently by his desk.

She was holding the coat he’d tossed there earlier, her face buried in the fabric. She inhaled deeply, again and again.

“…Elsa, right?” he said slowly. “What are you doing?”

The bizarre scene left him dumbfounded.

Thanks to the Divine Essence, he was extremely sensitive to negative emotions. Yet he felt no hostility. No killing intent. Not even malice.

That alone stopped him from attacking, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to look straight at her. She clearly should have noticed him by now, yet she remained utterly absorbed in his coat.

Rubbing his forehead, he sighed.

“Breaking into someone’s room to act like a pervert. Is this your idea of revenge? If so, I have to admit, it’s effective.”

“…Revenge?” Elsa murmured. “No, not at all~”

She finally lifted her head. Her breath came out hot and unsteady, her eyes damp and brimming with a strange, feverish affection.

One look told him something was deeply wrong.

Carlos let out a long sigh.

"You came here just to hand your life over to me?"

"Is that your way of confessing love?"

"How is that a love confession? It's lethal. Bloody. What country courts like this and hasn't gone extinct?"

"Wanting someone's life means wanting all of them, doesn't it? My life included."

"...Are you serious right now? I'm genuinely curious how your brain works."

The completely mismatched answers made his stomach ache.

He liked to think he understood lunatics pretty well after dealing with them for so long.

But even now, he still couldn’t fully grasp how their minds worked.

Right now included.

Chapter 32: Do You Remember How Many Pieces of Bread You’ve Eaten?

“You know,” Elsa said lightly, “maybe it’s a racial thing. Ever since I was little, I’ve been very good at telling people apart by scent. I can even tell what someone’s feeling just from how they smell.”

Maybe they really were incapable of understanding each other. Ignoring Carlos’ mounting irritation, she continued talking to herself, then blinked and appeared right in front of him, close enough that their noses nearly brushed.

She stared straight into his eyes. Her straight nose twitched as she inhaled deeply, again and again. A look of pure intoxication crept across her face.

“Your scent… it’s been so long. But if I get close and really smell it, I can still tell, you know?”

“Reading emotions through scent?” Carlos replied flatly. “That’s not ‘talent’ anymore. What are you, a dog?”

Used to dealing with all kinds of lunatics, he didn’t dodge. He simply looked at the black-haired beauty who’d suddenly closed the distance, her expression blissful and self-absorbed. Outwardly calm, inwardly he just wondered if something was seriously wrong with her.

Different emotions did cause subtle hormonal changes in scent, sure. But distinguishing those was beyond human ability. That was the domain of animals with absurdly sharp noses.

Yet she looked just like an Oni before transformation—completely normal. There was no way to tell from appearance alone whether she was human or demi-human.

“So what race are you?” he asked. “And what do you actually want? Did you really come here just to play the pervert?”

“Let’s skip that for now.” Elsa smiled. “Do you remember? The girl you flirted with eight years ago?”

“Heh. That’s how you put it?” Carlos scoffed instinctively, memories of his questionable youth surfacing. “Do you remember how many pieces of bread you’ve eaten in your life?”

“Oh my~ how rude.” She tilted her head, thought for a moment, then narrowed her eyes with a soft, amused laugh. “Now that you mention it, back then there probably wasn’t a single girl in the whole city you hadn’t flirted with.”

“You don’t look like you’re here for revenge,” he said. “So what, were you one of those street thugs from back then?”

“Street thug?” Elsa raised a brow in surprise. “Wasn’t the thug you?”

“…Not necessarily,” Carlos replied, gaze drifting into the distance. “Plenty of hunters disguise themselves as prey.”

The melancholy look on his face might have made an uninformed observer think he was recalling the greatest tragedy of his life.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Anyway,” Elsa said cheerfully, “let’s leave the past alone and talk about now, shall we?”

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s talk business.”

Her voice pulled him back from his thoughts. Carlos studied the alluring woman in front of him, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So what’s your deal? You don’t have hostile intent, so you’re not here for revenge. You want cooperation?”

“Cooperation? No~ That’s not it.”

She sat down right beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Smiling, she crossed her left leg over her right and brushed the hair by her ear back with an elegant motion.

Such a simple action, yet it radiated an inexplicable allure. Every movement carried a sensual weight that dried the throat.

Her words, however, left Carlos utterly lost.

If she wasn’t here for revenge, and not for cooperation either, then what?

She didn’t explain.

Instead, she took his hand and placed it squarely against her chest.

“…?”

The development was so far beyond anything he’d imagined that his brain stalled. He could only stare blankly at his own hand.

A moment later, he came back to himself. Calmly, he pulled his hand away, glanced at his right hand like it had just woken from a dream, and sighed.

“I’ll admit, the feel is excellent. But if you think you can seduce me with your body, sorry. I’m not naïve enough to lose my head from grabbing a chest.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Wanted? Sure, any normal man would. But I don’t like being passive.”

His eyes flicked, unbidden, to her chest, memories of the sensation resurfacing. He shook his head and forced them away.

That complete lack of recognition finally drew a hint of displeasure from Elsa. Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she asked,

“My black hair isn’t exactly common. I’ve given you so many hints. You still remember nothing?”

“…Uncommon things are everywhere,” Carlos replied. “Without something impactful, hair color alone won’t do it. Just say it plainly.”

“Then do you remember the winter eight years ago?” she asked softly. “The coldest day?”

“Eight years ago?” He frowned. “I don’t remember which winter exactly, but if you’re asking about the coldest winter of my life…”

His words trailed off.

A memory surfaced. A brutal winter in the northern Holy Kingdom. A black-haired girl he’d helped. Nearly freezing to death afterward.

He stood abruptly and stared at the woman beside him. She was already smiling, brilliant and bewitching, clearly aware that he’d remembered.

“…You were that kid back then?” he said slowly. “No. That’s impossible. That girl was thin as firewood. You don’t go from that to this just by blowing air into a balloon.”

His memory of her was vague, but her frailty had left a strong impression.

A skeletal, malnourished girl and a voluptuous, seductive beauty. The gap was so vast he’d never even considered they could be the same person.

Even with proper nutrition later, this is absurd, he thought.

As if reading his mind, Elsa licked her full lips and smiled with composed elegance.

“Humans might suffer from early malnutrition forever,” she said. “But I’m not human. Think of it as a racial trait. As long as the nutrition is there, the body grows into what it should be.”

She leaned closer, voice playful.

“Back then, you said you’d touch me for gold coins. Now I’m offering for free, and you don’t want it? What, you like them flat and not big?”

“Big is better than small. Of course small has its own appeal,” Carlos replied reflexively. “But that’s not the point. I prefer to take the initiative.”

“The initiative?” She tapped her lips thoughtfully, then spread her arms with a sultry smile. “That’s fine. Go on~”

Her posture was like an invitation to sin, her chest proudly on display.

“I’m saying,” Carlos sighed, “why are you this fixated on me after being saved once? And why did you turn out this strange? If you acted a bit more normal, I might’ve taken the bait. But this…”

Boom!!

A violent gust of wind blew the door apart mid-sentence. Wood splinters and debris exploded inward, carried by the howling gale.

The bed wasn’t facing the doorway, so Carlos remained seated, utterly unmoved. From the entrance alone, he already knew who it was.

And his head started to ache.

Elsa, on the other hand, sprang to her feet. She drew her curved blade from beneath her clothes and stepped in front of him, eyes narrowed with brutal killing intent as she stared toward the ruined doorway.

"…Having fun, are we?" a voice said, cold as arctic wind. "Care for a Fura?"

The dust was swept away in an instant, scattered by a cutting wind. Standing there, expressionless, was a girl framed by the shattered door.

Ram.

Chapter 33: A Love Triangle? No, Not Even Close

“What a rude child,” Elsa said lazily, eyeing Ram after her dramatic entrance. She tilted her head, as if genuinely baffled by the interruption, then casually swung the curved blade in her hand, the lethal weapon wildly at odds with her voluptuous beauty. The smile she wore was the same as before, gentle on the surface, murderous underneath.

“I’m not the kind of woman who clings too tightly. There’s such a thing as first come, first served. Someone with such intense possessiveness is bound to be disliked, you know?”

“Heh. Competing with Ram for seniority?” Ram sneered. “You’re all fat and no brains.”

“Even if it’s just fat,” Elsa replied smoothly, “it’s still better than having none.”

She licked her lips and cast a disdainful glance at Ram’s chest, straightening ever so slightly, a deliberate, provocative contrast that left no doubt about the overwhelming difference between them.

“Bold words…!”

“Oh, and by the way,” Elsa added lightly, “we’ve known each other for eight years.”

“Eight years?” Ram, who had been seething and ready to lash out, suddenly broke into a sharp, mocking grin. “Ram was only asked to keep an eye on this restless one for my sister and chase off any shameless strays, but since you’re so pitiful, I’ll tell you this. We met him on the day he was born. There’s no one in this world who’s known him longer than us.”

“Please don’t talk as if you’ve accomplished something you clearly haven’t,” Elsa replied, eyes narrowing as she gently swayed her blade. “Arriving a little earlier doesn’t mean much. And one more thing…”

She smiled, delighted.

“Stop pretending. I can see it clearly. That anger and dissatisfaction of yours is nothing more than personal resentment.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?!” Ram snapped, fists clenching.

“I’m only stating facts~ Interfering with someone else’s date deserves a bit of punishment. But…”

Elsa’s gaze shifted mid-sentence to Carlos, who was watching the whole exchange with obvious interest, like a spectator at a lively show. She leaned down and breathed softly into his ear.

“So, what’s her deal? I’ve heard the oni live isolated, close-knit lives. Is she one too? Some kind of relative?”

“She’s my—”

“—Older sister and fiancée!”

Ram cut him off instantly. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, the corner of her mouth twitching as she spat the words out like a curse.

“……”

“……”

The mismatch between her tone and the words themselves left both Elsa and Carlos staring at her, then at each other.

After a moment, Carlos leaned in and muttered, “Don’t mind her. She’s been like this since she was little. And technically, she’s half a day younger than me.”

“That part doesn’t bother me,” Elsa said sweetly. “But the engagement… could you explain that to me in detail? Slowly~”

Her smile was sharper than a rose’s thorns. She spoke in a voice as gentle as a mother soothing an infant, lips almost brushing his ear.

She hadn’t actually done anything inappropriate. She was simply too close. Yet the sultry atmosphere was so thick it made his skin prickle with heat.

Ram stared at him without expression. Her gaze was cold enough to drop him into an ice abyss.

She didn’t call him a bug, trash, pervert, or scum. Considering her usual vocabulary, that restraint alone deserved praise.

Caught between a seductive beauty and a beautiful girl, experiencing ice and fire at once, Carlos felt more tired than flustered.

It wasn’t as if he’d actually suffered any losses, so he didn’t take the situation too seriously. Watching from the sidelines had even been entertaining.

Unfortunately, the flames had now reached him, and he couldn’t keep spectating. Even so, he felt no panic at standing in the center of it all.

Because to him, this wasn’t a battlefield of love at all. At most, it was an overly forward stranger offering herself and a long-separated younger sister picking a fight.

Fundamentally, there was no real emotional entanglement on his side. One was beautiful, the other cute, but he wasn’t driven by lust. After briefly lamenting how he’d ended up being targeted just for watching the show, he spoke with calm finality.

"The past can wait. There's nothing to discuss right now. And Miss Elsa," he added politely, "I'm sorry. Your looks and figure are exactly my type, but I don't like getting overly familiar with strange people."

Years of dealing with lunatics had dulled any curiosity he might have had, and he had a strong feeling that getting involved with her would lead to endless trouble.

So even when this beauty practically offered him free rein over temptation itself, he refused without hesitation. Walking over to the window, he gestured outward.

“I really should sleep. You should leave the way you came. Though… if you wouldn’t mind telling me why you want the Dragon Insignia before you go, I’d appreciate it.”

“What a heartless man,” Elsa sighed. “But that’s exactly why I like you.”

Despite the clear rejection, she only spread her hands in mild regret. Picking up his coat, she strolled past him and pointed meaningfully at the floor.

“I’m just fulfilling a request. You understand, don’t you?”

“The floor below is the living room, and no one’s there,” Carlos said slowly. “So you mean the owner of this house… Roswaal?”

“Hehe Finding you was enough for now. I’ll definitely come again someday”

Even after hinting at her employer, Elsa upheld the last remnants of professional secrecy and gave no confirmation. She cast one last glance at Ram, who stood with her hands on her hips like a victorious little hen, then leapt away into the darkness outside after declaring she wouldn’t give up.

“She really just… left like that?” Carlos muttered. “And why would Roswaal sabotage the Royal Candidate he supports?”

Her clean exit surprised him. He truly couldn’t understand what went on in her head. Or why she’d taken his coat.

“Who knows,” Ram replied coolly. “Ram doesn’t know what you were talking about, but that clown is capable of anything. No matter how you look at him, he’s mentally unstable.”

“True,” Carlos agreed. “Trying to understand someone like that through normal logic is pointless. Might as well give up.”

He glanced at the hand he’d once placed against Elsa’s chest, his expression complicated.

The return on a good deed from eight years ago was… hard to evaluate.

Chapter 34: Impostor · Variables in the Plan

Carlos had considered the possibility that Elsa was lying to him. The thought had crossed his mind more than once. But he also knew Roswaal’s secret, and he had personally seen the magical tool Pandora possessed, one that was indistinguishable from Roswaal’s weakened version of the Book of Wisdom.

The Book of Wisdom was supposed to be a guide to the correct future, a record of what would inevitably come to pass. On the surface, it sounded absurdly powerful, the kind of thing people would assume existed only once in the entire world.

In reality, it wasn’t that rare.

The Dragon Kingdom had Dragon Calendar Stones, artifacts capable of broadly predicting future events. Other nations possessed similar tools as well. When you traced them back to their roots, the underlying spell structures all followed the same basic principles.

According to prophecy, the Witch of Envy would bring a boy blessed with the power to “correct the world” into this one. The prophecy never named who that person was, yet it explicitly mentioned that he would encounter Emilia.

That vagueness was precisely what made Carlos suspicious.

Roswaal arranging obstacles for Emilia might not have been simple cruelty or manipulation. It could have been a test, a way to manufacture events that forced closeness, allowing him to judge who the true otherworlder was.

And because the prophecy was so frustratingly unclear, Carlos was almost certain of something else.

As long as he didn’t reveal his eyes, and as long as he acted close enough to Emilia, he had a very good chance of making Roswaal believe he was Natsuki Subaru.

The thought made him almost giddy.

He could already picture it, slipping the knife in from behind, then leaning close and whispering, Surprised? Didn’t see that coming? He wondered what kind of expression Roswaal would make in that moment. Just imagining it was enough to nearly make him laugh out loud.

That was when the Ram he had completely ignored, lost in his daydreams, silently stepped in front of him.

Arms crossed, she looked down at him with icy eyes. Carlos had already turned back over and lay down on the bed, but Ram still lifted her foot and kicked the bedframe hard.

“...I don’t care what kind of fantasy you’re indulging in,” she said flatly. “But don’t you think you owe Ram a proper explanation about what your relationship with that woman just now actually is?”

“Nothing special. We just met,” Carlos replied, turning his back to her without even looking. “It’s late. You should go back and get some sleep too.”

“—Sleep? Don’t joke with me. If you don’t explain yourself today, you’re not sleeping at all!” Ram snapped. “You were alive this whole time, yet you never once came to find us in eight years. Don’t tell me you were running around with that woman instead?!”

"...I've realized something about you," Carlos muttered. "For someone who claims not to care, you turn green awfully fast."

“Don’t flatter yourself!” Ram shot back, jerking her head aside. “Ram is angry on Rem’s behalf. She deserves better!”

Her response was pure indignation, almost petulant.

Carlos glanced back at her, but only briefly. It was as if he could see straight through her. He didn’t even bother replying, merely waving his hand dismissively.

That utter lack of regard made Ram’s frustration boil over. It piled up in her chest until she nearly snapped, half-tempted to flip the bed outright.

“...You bastard...!”

“It’s rare that we meet again,” Carlos said calmly. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it slowly tomorrow. Good night.”

“...I’ll let you off. For now.”

She really wanted to overturn the bed.

In the end, though, Ram forced herself to endure it.

After eight years, she didn’t know how to deal with the Carlos standing in front of her now, someone who felt familiar and yet undeniably changed. With no idea how to respond, she crushed down the turmoil in her heart, grinding out her final words through clenched teeth before leaving. She needed time alone, time to sort out emotions that hadn’t settled even two hours after their reunion.

...................

The next day unfolded exactly according to plan.

Carlos brought along an Emilia who had been persuaded almost instantly. Together, they went to the Slums to find Felt, then escorted her to the headquarters of the Royal Guard.

There, on the spot, they verified her Dragon Insignia using the dragon jewel embedded within it.

Still dazed, barely able to believe that she truly qualified as a royal candidate, Felt was officially recognized as the fifth candidate.

Up to that point, everything had gone smoothly.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way.

The task of locating the final candidate had belonged to the current Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea. As a result, Reinhard naturally became Felt’s knight, despite her having no prior backing. By extension, the Sword Saint’s family became her greatest support.

Reinhard, seemingly worried that Felt, who had zero interest in the throne, might sell off the insignia, flatly refused her request to take possession of her own Dragon Insignia.

Carlos nearly coughed up blood on the spot.

And Felt, who despised nobles and knights alike, looked just as miserable. She turned to Carlos with a pleading look, silently begging for help.

All she got in response was his helpless shrug.

“...Hey! Didn’t you say all we had to do was verify it?” she hissed, furious at his total lack of assistance. She grabbed him roughly and dragged him into a corner, lowering her voice into an angry growl. “You said it’d be easy! That I could make two hundred Holy Gold Coins without breaking a sweat! I knew that sounded suspicious! Don’t tell me you planned this from the start, teaming up with this damn knight order to sell me out?! Find a candidate, get paid kind of deal? How much did you take?! Split it with me! No, I want seventy percent!”

“...Like hell I did,” Carlos shot back. “I’m already down five Holy Gold Coins, and I haven’t even complained. Calm down a bit, will you? Just get the insignia and find a way to pass it to me later.”

Faced with her resentment-filled interrogation, he felt both wronged and exhausted. He planted his palm against her face and shoved her away outright.

That rough treatment of a royal candidate immediately drew hostile glares from the surrounding knights. Instinctively, Carlos slapped Felt on the head as well, then turned to the onlookers and sneered.

“What are you staring at? We’re basically siblings. What’s wrong with roughhousing a little? Just because she’s a royal candidate now, she can’t mess around with family anymore?”

“Hah? Who’s siblings with you?!” Felt snapped. “We met yesterday! Even if we’d met last year, I still wouldn’t call a despicable bastard like you my brother!”

As the knights struggled to rein in their displeasure, Felt showed her so-called employer zero mercy, angrily tearing down his excuse without hesitation.

Carlos, however, remained completely unfazed.

“That’s your opinion,” he said lightly. “But in my heart, you’re already the little sister I picked up off the side of the road.”

“That kind of sister isn’t worth a damn!”

“True.”

“...You asshole. You’re messing with me on purpose!”

Felt ground her teeth, itching to take a swing at him. But she knew better. She wasn’t his match.

In the end, she swallowed it down, glaring at him nonstop as if searching for an opening to ambush him.

Not far from them stood a red-haired young man with a dignified bearing, a knight’s sword at his waist radiating an unusual pressure. He looked every bit the honorable gentleman.

The Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea.

From beginning to end, he merely watched the two of them with a gentle smile, interpreting their behavior as nothing more than friendly banter.

That, more than anything else, left Carlos slightly disappointed.

After all, if it was Reinhard van Astrea, the strongest Sword Saint in the world, then maybe, just maybe, he could have provided more negative emotion than the rest of the knight order combined.

Chapter 35: Preparing a Direct Assault on a Royal Candidate

From start to finish, Reinhard van Astrea showed not the slightest hint of malice toward anyone.

Just like the rumors said, he was honest, gentle, and sincere. Every word and action carried an earnest concern for others. Compared to the role Carlos was playing, Reinhard looked far more like the genuinely harmless good man.

But…

Compared to Reinhard’s warmth, Ram’s gaze never once left Carlos.

Cold and sharp, it stabbed into his back the entire time.

It wasn’t until they had left the Royal Guard headquarters, climbed onto the Dragon Carriage, and confirmed there was no one else around that Ram finally decided appearances no longer mattered. Without warning, she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, forcing him to bend forward.

Her delicate, doll-like face filled his vision.

She said nothing. Just stared at him, unblinking.

Carlos gave a helpless smile.

“What now, Ram?”

“...Please conduct yourself with a bit more restraint.”

“I always do,” he replied casually. “I’m just close with my friends.”

“You met them yesterday. They’re complete strangers!”

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t gotten to know yet.”

“People you don’t know aren’t friends!”

She looked ready to bite him, prompting Carlos to immediately change course.

“That was a joke. I’ll be more careful around you next time.”

“Not just around Ram!”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

“...Remember what you said.”

Noticing Emilia approaching, Ram snorted through her nose before finally releasing him and shoving him away.

Carlos found her unreasonable behavior more amusing than irritating. He didn’t take it to heart. After straightening his collar, he followed along as if nothing had happened.

..............

The plan hadn’t gone smoothly.

But what needed to be done still needed to be done.

Carlos retrieved the custom-made modern trench coat he had ordered from the shop, then put on the sunglasses handcrafted by his own merchant guild. Dressed in an outfit that stood out painfully in this world, he prepared to head to the Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers’ estate along with Emilia and Ram.

Yet just as they were about to leave the Royal Capital, he noticed something else.

On a parallel road, a group dressed in conspicuously non-local attire passed through the city gate ahead of them.

White-robed figures. Cloaks primarily white, accented with orange lines. Every hood was pulled low, hiding the upper half of the face. A closer look revealed two unnatural bulges atop each hood, clearly designed to accommodate beastman ears.

The white-robed demi-humans rode Earth Dragon-like mounts, wolf-shaped Ligers. Their formation included numerous Ligers hauling cargo, while the central position was occupied by a steadier Earth Dragon pulling a passenger carriage.

When the curtain of that Dragon Carriage was drawn aside and someone inside spoke, Carlos caught a brief glimpse through the opening.

A purple-haired girl in a white formal dress.

For reasons unknown, she wore a fluffy white hat atop her head, and her clothing was clearly meant for winter. In the sweltering heat of late summer edging into autumn, it looked suffocating just to see.

But her features made it obvious.

They were Iron Fang, the exclusive mercenary group of the Hoshin Company from the Free Trading City of Kararagi.

And the girl seated in the royal carriage they guarded was another royal candidate.

Anastasia Hoshin.

Carlos examined their numbers carefully. Three cat-type beastmen were missing, and the vice-captain of the Royal Guard wasn’t present either. The escort force was noticeably light.

His heart stirred.

Roswaal was a Margrave. His estate lay on the border, remote and inconvenient. Who knew when he’d next run into a royal candidate after that?

Felt’s situation was still uncertain. Emilia, among the candidates, was backed by Roswaal’s hidden schemes yet had no real subordinates of her own. To Carlos personally, she was little more than bait and a shield. More often than not, she couldn’t be treated as usable combat power.

Add in the estate’s isolated location, the difficulty of maneuvering, and the three-month time limit hanging over him…

This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.

He stood up abruptly inside the carriage.

“—I just remembered something I still need to do. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up later with a Dragon Carriage.”

“At a time like this? What could it be?” Ram frowned, following his line of sight without understanding.

Emilia, lacking Ram’s suspicion, spoke instinctively.

“We don’t have anything urgent. We can wait for you—”

“No need. Go ahead. I’ll ride an Earth Dragon and catch up.”

He cut her off mid-sentence, leaped straight off the Dragon Carriage, and sprinted in the opposite direction of Anastasia Hoshin’s convoy.

Watching him rush off in such a hurry, Emilia’s expression filled with worry.

“Uncle Carlos isn’t running into trouble, is he?”

“It’ll be fine... probably.”

Ram’s face remained as blank as ever, but the unease in her voice betrayed her. Emilia noticed immediately and turned back in surprise.

“Ram... didn’t you hate Carlos yesterday?”

“I still hate him.”

“...R-really?”

It didn’t feel convincing, but Ram’s answer was firm. With no choice, Emilia swallowed her doubts, setting them aside for the moment.

Elsewhere.

An abandoned church stood beyond the Royal Capital.

Suppressed by the Divine Dragon Church, the congregation had long since disbanded. Carlos had purchased the church at a low price, turning it into his faction’s exclusive base of operations within the capital.

Flickering candlelight mingled with morning sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting the church in a cold, solemn atmosphere.

Yet what occupied the space were figures clad in loose black robes, their footsteps accompanied by the unmistakable clatter of metal.

When the heavy church doors creaked open, those seated on the pews instinctively reached for their weapons.

Then they saw who it was.

Metal rang out as they dropped to one knee in perfect unison.

“—Master!”

The chorus echoed through the vast hall, magnified by the empty space until it became overwhelming.

From the surrounding shadows, more black-robed figures emerged. Unlike the armored ones, they knelt silently, soundless as ghosts.

“Make your preparations,” Carlos said, waving his hand. “We’re moving.”

The robed figures melted back into the shadows. The armored ones responded with a low “Yes,” rising and immediately beginning their battle preparations.

The operation was simple.

After a royal candidate left the city and became isolated, they would strike. First, attempt negotiation and acquire the Dragon Insignia peacefully.

If that failed, seize it by force.

And regardless of the outcome, they could always frame another candidate for cooperating with the Witch Cult.

Or, better yet, take direct control of Anastasia Hoshin.

That, too, was an excellent option.