Chapter 38
“Anyway, if we can’t tell the Crown Prince or the Saint, then we at least need to get stronger ourselves! What was it again—should we just absorb more of those executed criminals’ corpses? Would that make us stronger too?”
Yulia let out a loud Kraaang! into the empty air. Clearly, she hated being on the run all the time.
“Maybe… if my skills improve a bit more, it might be possible?”
After all, that was the whole point of creating familiars. My abilities were still lacking, so at best I could only use them like a bit of grease for stiff joints.
“Hm… perfect timing, actually. I was going to bring this up today.”
At that moment, Edmond rose from his seat. He pulled a recording orb out of his pocket and placed it on the table.
Tok tok—the moment he tapped it, a familiar face appeared inside.
—“Oh my, dear customer! What brings you here at this late hour? Hahaha! Not that you’re disturbing my sleep or anything, no, no~.”
Donald, dressed in his pajamas, was rubbing his hands together as always. Edmond ignored his greeting and got straight to the point.
“That story you mentioned earlier today—I want the full details.”
—“Ah~ you mean about the auction, right?”
“Yes. You said a black magic tome turned up in an underground auction.”
A black magic tome?
I leaned closer to the orb with a startled face, and Donald nodded, grinning sheepishly.
—“Yes, that’s correct. Solid information from the auction house. But… there’s one thing that bothers me.”
“What is it?”
—“As you suggested earlier today, I did some digging for additional details. The problem is… the origin of the item is very unclear.”
Donald scratched his head awkwardly, then continued.
—“Even in underground auctions, there’s a certain code of conduct, you see. To determine whether something’s genuine or fake, knowing the source is critical. But these fellows absolutely refuse to disclose it. That alone means something fishy’s going on.”
“Fishy? Like what?”
—“Well, this is just what I heard from an informant, so it needs cross-checking… but it seems the item might have been dug up from the grave of a Saint.”
Donald quickly added, “A lot of people think it’s bad luck if something comes from grave robbers, you see. That’s probably why they’re keeping it quiet.”
The fact that even a ruthless underground auction would indulge in such superstitions was absurd. But more absurd was what he’d just said.
“But isn’t the Saint’s tomb… in Frostwood? The state restricted access because it’s crawling with monsters.”
—“Oh, please. If restrictions stopped them, they wouldn’t be grave robbers, would they? Frostwood used to have a warden, but he died recently. Because of that, the forest boundaries weakened, and now all sorts—herb gatherers, grave robbers—slip in and out constantly.”
“…”
So the black magicians killing the Prophet’s descendants had come back to affect things again.
The Thirteen Prophets had spread out across the continent after the holy war, and among them, Saint Elissa had chosen to become Frostwood’s guardian herself.
Her descendants had protected the forest for generations ever since.
But with the black magicians killing the current warden, there was no one left to guard Frostwood.
“And so the black magic tome buried with the Saint was dug up and reappeared in the world. Should I call that fortunate for us, then?”
The world truly turned in unpredictable ways.
“…So, it’s certain the tome is genuine?”
—“Oh yes, absolutely. I can guarantee that much!”
“Then I’ll buy it.”
—“…I half-expected that when you first asked me to look into it, but… are you serious?”
“Yes. How much?”
No matter how rare, there was nothing the Walker Ducal House couldn’t buy. Edmond seemed ready to tap even the family’s hidden slush fund if necessary.
Rumor had it that his grandfather, who had a knack for business, had secretly amassed a fortune equal to the empire’s annual budget…
Sure, it was exaggerated, but even so, their resources were formidable.
—“N-no! I can’t!”
Donald threw up both hands in panic.
—“T-touching such blasphemous goods… the Lord would surely punish me! I can’t do it!”
“I could punish you before the Lord does.”
—“No, absolutely not! Even if you threaten me! I am a devout believer!”
He shut his eyes tight, bracing himself with sheer resolve.
“…If you really want to invite disaster—”
“Then let’s do it another way.”
I cut in before Edmond could press further.
“Emily.”
“Just make sure we have a spot reserved at the auction. You can do that much, right?”
I’d rather not step forward, but… I was probably better at handling people like Donald than Edmond was.
—“Ohhh! Of course, of course! I’ll see to it that you’re comfortably seated in the VVVIP section! I promise!”
Donald prostrated himself, thanking us over and over—at least twenty-five times before the orb went dark.
When I turned, Edmond was staring at me with a faintly stiff expression.
“Sorry. Did I upset you by interrupting?”
“…You’re not Isaac or Yulia. If you acted that way, you must’ve had a reason. I was just wondering what it was.”
Behind us, Isaac grumbled, “Why are we suddenly dragged into this?” but I ignored him.
“It’s just… everyone has a line they won’t cross. For him, that line is religion.”
“Hm.”
“And besides, isn’t he one of the most respected in that field? That’s why you picked him from your grandfather’s ledgers, right? Better to give way once than sour the whole relationship.”
Edmond only nodded silently, face unreadable. Maybe I’d overstepped.
After all, resisting him so directly was, in a sense, challenging him as Duke.
Nervously bowing my head, I felt Edmond step closer.
Thump.
A large hand rested on my head. Startled, I looked up to find him gently ruffling my hair.
“Well thought, Emily. Sometimes you need to know how to embrace gently.”
When I raised my head, Edmond was smiling faintly.
“You’re better than me.”
“….”
I was caught off guard, and that was when Isaac and Yulia piled on.
“Indeed. What’s a zombie doing as duke? Emily should be Duke Walker.”
“I second that~.”
“You two… haah.”
“What was that sigh for? I feel insulted, you know?!”
“What about us! Why!”
Their squabbling made me laugh before I realized it.
“Pfft, Edmond, why are you joining in with them~!”
They were hopeless. Seeing me laugh, the others finally started chuckling too.
Before I knew it, all my earlier worries had faded away, replaced by meaningless jokes.
And that alone made me happy.
The mask with its gaudy feathers was irritatingly tight, covering half my face and narrowing my vision.
With a robe draped over it, the discomfort doubled.
Everyone wears masks to hide their identities at the auction…
I’d bought one near the venue and left early, which meant I was the first one ready.
I’ve even packed my spatial pouch just in case. If I leave now, I’ll get there right on time.
As I fiddled with the pouch at my waist, the dressing room door swung open.
Shrrrk.
“Oh~ señorita.”
“Huh?”
Isaac appeared, speaking in the Tahil tongue. He wore a fox-shaped mask and had a rose clamped in his teeth.
“To your eyes, my toast…”
“What… what are you doing?”
“Mmm, don’t ask, my dear. Just feel it.”
Before I could retort What the hell are you babbling about, he pressed a finger to my lips and shook his head solemnly.
I was left speechless—then Yulia emerged, wearing a plain black mask. Relief washed over me. At least now I wouldn’t have to handle Isaac’s antics alone.
“Yuli, come here quick! Isaac’s acting up again—”
“Yuli? Who’s that? I am nothing but a cold, unfeeling assassin without a name.”
Wow. To say that line without a flicker of shame—I had to applaud Yulia’s shamelessness.
“Señorita, and your name is?”
“I am but a lone wolf….”
The surreal back-and-forth between Isaac and Yulia doubled my mental fatigue.
What a ridiculous commitment to their roles…
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Yulia let out a theatrical Ho. Ho. Ho. as if savoring my dismay.
My last hope was Edmond.
Shrrrk!
The curtain parted again, and Edmond stepped out.
“Ed—”
I stopped mid-sentence, utterly dumbfounded.
The Edmond I trusted had dressed like a mafia boss from the Kingdom of Siracia: a three-piece suit, fedora, sunglasses, even a cigar.
“…Ahem. You need a disguise if you don’t want your identity exposed.”
He added an awkward excuse, which was so unlike him.
“Does it… not suit me?”
Impossible. It suited him far too well—that was the problem.
“Welcome, boss.”
“We’ve been waiting.”
Isaac and Yulia immediately flanked him, perfectly in character.
The three of them standing together looked exactly like a mafia crew visiting from Siracia.
As disguises went, it was flawless.
…Is the Walker ducal house really going to be okay like this?
For the first time, I was deeply worried about the family’s future.
