May 10th, Monday.
“What’s the big deal?”
In front of him, Siloque was about to put a piece of jelly from his strawberry tart shaved ice into his mouth, but he paused upon hearing Cass’s words.
“You think… it’s fine, Siloque?”
Cass tilted his head slightly, his elegant hairstyle swaying with the movement, his eyes filled with astonishment.
His fingernails were trimmed neatly, his ring was polished to a shine, and the casual clothes he wore were somewhat magnificent—a brown and black color scheme with elegant tones.
It was enough to show how much importance Cass placed on this meeting.
Earlier that afternoon, Cass and Siloque had officially begun hunting monsters on the Second Floor under Siloque’s guidance, using those unconventional locations.
Now it was 6:00 PM, and the two were at a somewhat stylish Idli Restaurant.
Compared to the formal-looking Cass, Siloque was dressed very simply in jeans, a GAP jacket, and cheap sneakers.
However, Cass didn’t mind.
He was just happy that Siloque had come at all.
“What I’m saying is, that Henson told my maid, ‘As expected of you, no wonder you could insta-kill Cliff in a duel.’ The person there at the time wasn’t me… Why would he mistake my maid for me?”
Although Siloque had confirmed it once before, Cass couldn’t help but ask:
“Does this mean that… my identity has been exposed to the Evil Demon Society? If they could find out that quickly, they might have already infiltrated the National Explorers Academy.”
“Ah-huh.”
Siloque popped the jelly into his mouth and swallowed.
“You’re right about one thing. They definitely have infiltrated the school.”
“I see, so that’s how he knew—wait, what?!”
In his excitement, Cass almost stood up.
His voice was a bit too loud, forcing him to give a bitter, apologetic smile to the few customers around them.
“Isn’t that terrible? Everyone at school is in danger!”
“Calm down.”
Unlike the agitated Cass, Siloque continued his meal as if nothing were wrong:
“My next goal is to wipe out the Evil Demon Society cultists within the school.”
…Eh?
Really?
Hearing this, Cass placed a hand over his chest.
As expected, Siloque wouldn’t just sit idly by.
“There’s no benefit to leaving them be… though it’s just something I’m doing on the way. It’s just that starting next week, I might have to take a long leave of absence.”
“A long leave?”
Siloque then told Cass about his general plans for the future.
“A Dungeon Task… We won’t have a chance to meet for a long time.”
Cass felt very dejected.
According to Siloque, it would be two weeks or even longer before they could see each other again.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried.
But for now, there was another problem weighing on Cass’s mind.
No matter what…
Does the Evil Demon Society already know I’m pretending to be my brother?
If the news reached his mother, Vitoris, a notice of expulsion would be issued shortly after.
Cass opened his Ring Chart to glance at the news—
Henson had been arrested and already executed.
The person who knew his internal affairs was dead, but there was no guarantee his real identity hadn’t spread through the Evil Demon Society.
“What’s wrong? You look terrible. Stomach ache?”
“No, it’s… the air conditioning is a bit cold…”
Cass knew his lie was pathetic; his face was deathly pale.
In fact, the speed at which Siloque’s spoon scooped up the strawberry tart slowed down, and he looked at Cass suspiciously.
If that’s the case, the only way to ensure the news doesn’t reach Vitoris is to kill them all.
I absolutely cannot be expelled.
My relationship with Siloque has only just begun; the bond we’ve finally managed to close would just fade away again…
As dark thoughts rose in his heart, pondering how to find the Evil Demon Society members one by one to let Hertanid eat them, Siloque spoke.
“Cass, back to your question earlier. What Henson said was, ‘As expected of you, no wonder you could insta-kill Cliff in a duel,’ right?”
“Uh? Ah, right, right.”
Siloque finally put on a serious, thinking expression, though he continued to shovel large mouthfuls of the yet-unmelted shaved ice into his mouth.
Didn’t he feel the cold in his teeth?
“He probably didn’t know your identity. He just mistook you for someone else.”
“Ah—?!! How could he… mistake me?”
Cass quickly covered his mouth.
Siloque unhurriedly began to eat the strawberries he had saved for last:
“Members of the Evil Demon Society help each other, yet they don’t interfere with one another. The highest code of conduct they follow is the ‘Pastoral Service.’ Everyone’s Pastoral Service is different. Unless the Pastoral Service has specific requirements or the targets are the same, members usually don’t exchange information.”
“The Pastoral Service is issued directly by Izabilis. Henson was a member of the lower levels of the subordinate organization. The Pastoral Service he received was likely something like ‘Give power to the blue-haired person at the amusement park platform.’ He wouldn’t think about whether the info could be more accurate; he’d just think about how to interpret it himself. Hah, a bunch of psychos.”
Siloque annoyedly mashed the pastry with his spoon and muttered: “If the Evil Demon Society didn’t exist, this game would just be a slice-of-life daily story, and opponents would be easy to deal with.”
“Based on what you’re saying,” Cass followed up, “Henson’s goal was to ‘find a blue-haired person,’ so it’s possible he mistook another blue-haired person for me?”
“Correct.”
“And the last thing he said to me was something he heard from a colleague lurking in the school? Just because of the blue hair, he… mistook the maid for me?”
Siloque nodded: “Information transmission between their personnel is very messy. Especially for someone like Henson, who is at the lowest level and only receives information one-way, the distortion is even worse. Having heard keywords like ‘Cass’ and ‘blue-haired,’ he mistook the maid for you, even though the genders were completely different.”
Though in your case, it’s more like a chain reaction of side characters around the protagonist, Siloque added quietly.
Cass touched his own hair with a complex expression.
In other words, last night Henson took me for Cass simply because my appearance at the time happened to fit the criteria?
If he had run into any other blue-haired person, he would have said the same thing.
The bad luck was that he was the one who ran into him.
The good luck was that it was him, so no ordinary people without power were harmed.
What a strange organization.
Using something that sounds as nice as “Pastoral Service” to randomly cause harm or even death to people.
Fortunately, after this discussion, he could at least be certain that the other party might not have discovered his real identity.
Henson simply made a mistake.
For now, it was better to think of it that way.
“Phew…”
Thinking this, Cass felt much more relaxed.
But the thought of such people lurking in the city—and even in the school—made him feel uncomfortable again.
It was like a seemingly clean and tidy room with countless cockroaches hiding in the invisible corners.
Just thinking about it made Cass’s face darken with disgust.
“The Tuners can’t dig up much information… Low-level employees like Henson only know how to execute orders, right?”
“Low-level employees? Close enough.”
Siloque smiled, approving of the analogy.
“These D-rank Personnel only receive info on ‘what to do.’ ‘Why they are doing it’ is not within their consideration. Who told your maid to look so much like you, Cass? You even let her use a weapon of the same color as yours.”
“I couldn’t help it! She insisted on imitating me.”
“Why did your voice get so high… That maid looks so much like you, I almost thought it was your sister Cassia, but that’s impossible. She’s currently lying in a hospital bed in stasis.”
“……………”
Cass could only remain silent, breaking out in a cold sweat.
Siloque kept calling her “the maid.”
Could it be that Hill hadn’t told Siloque his name?
Or was Siloque simply uninterested in the “me” who was stalking him?
Cass furrowed his thin brows slightly and bit his lower lip, feeling somewhat dissatisfied.
“But what Henson said to the maid at the end, considering the personality of those people, was genuine praise and admiration. Though the fact that he got the person wrong is pretty hilarious.”
“Haha… I see.”
“Since we’re talking about D-rank Personnel, I’ll tell you about their organization’s structure. It’s that generic kind of organization structure anyway…”
Siloque paused, his emerald eyes looking at Cass.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I was thinking that if you don’t want to hear it, I could just send you a file. Since we’re out having fun, you probably don’t want to listen to this stuff.”
“Not at all! I’m super happy just chatting with you, Siloque!”
Cass even placed his hand over his heart with such sincerity that someone who didn’t know better would think he was offering his very soul.
This honest declaration successfully earned a regretful “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything” look from Siloque.
“Fine… First, the lowest rank.”
He rested his left cheek on his hand and used a fork in his right hand to scrape the remnants of the strawberry tart shaved ice toward the center of the plate.
“The bottom-tier personnel, like Cliff and Henson. To use kitchen grades as an analogy, they are the scullions responsible for clearing trash and washing dishes.”
Siloque piled up the shredded coconut used for decoration.
Each piece was tiny, but the total amount was quite a lot.
“Next are the executives, from low to high. Green-clad Executive, junior chef. Genolo, who helped Cliff, was at this level. Starting from here, these are members who possess a Refined Tree Nest.”
He placed the remaining crust of the tart on top.
“Purple-clad Executive, intermediate chef. Myut.”
He scooped up the remaining melted ice.
Siloque paused for a moment.
Seeing Cass listening intently, he continued to scrape the scattered, rich chocolate sauce onto the pile.
“…Black-clad Executive, senior chef. I haven’t run into one yet. And finally…”
On Siloque’s plate, the various leftovers were piled into a trapezoid, highlighting the white, shiny parts of the plate that had been scraped clean.
Finally, he placed a single strawberry on top.
A small pyramid built from food scraps was complete.
“The head chef. The one who calls himself God’s Vicar—the Cult Leader.”