Gelda Asman silently stared into the eyes of the person holding his hand.
Help, he says.
Does he even know what he's saying?
He just casually uttered words that could get him killed without a trace, yet there wasn't a hint of hesitation on his face.
"I don't understand what you mean."
"No, I think you do."
"This is your last chance."
"Is that so?"
Asman looked into his pale blue eyes. The other met his gaze calmly, without a flicker of doubt. Asman looked away from him and sank into thought.
'It's almost embarrassing to read.'
He was trying his best to act unhurried, but the emotions readable through his ability were anything but relaxed. The more he read, the more that feigned tranquility seemed laughable, making him want to one day shatter that composure and force the true feelings to the surface.
'Since there's no doubt about the emotions... I should calm down first and think.'
Felix Baichel had uttered words only a Pleroma would know. Considering the emotions and the situation, he was clearly a fellow Pleroma believer. But if he was a first-generation Pleroma, things became tricky, even if his emotions acted as a safety net. Judging by the time he became a Pleroma, he was highly likely to be in a superior position to Asman.
"Have you received the baptism?"
"I'm still attending doctrine classes."
Asman almost let out an unconscious sigh of relief. If he was still attending doctrine classes, he was obviously a lay believer. An ordinary person with no abilities. Just one among hundreds of thousands who drew a lottery ticket hoping to receive the Pleroma's blessing once.
Asman relaxed his shoulders, leaned back in his chair, and asked, "Where did you hear about me?"
"I didn't hear it. I just kept thinking about what you said before about wanting to use magic."
"Tell me in detail."
"If you become a Pleroma, you can use magic, right? As long as you don't mind, Mr. Asman, I wanted to grant your wish, even if it meant borrowing the Pleroma's power."
He tilted his head and continued.
"But... to bring up baptism first, Mr. Asman, you always exceed my expectations."
"..."
I suppose so. It was tantamount to admitting he was a Pleroma himself.
Having thought that far, Asman forced a smile to mask his expression.
'...Somehow, I feel like I've been led on by Baichel.'
However, nothing particularly strange was detected in the readable emotions. As Asman replayed their conversation, wondering if there had been anything odd, he suddenly voiced a question.
"This topic came up while talking about what we did during the day, right? If your offer to help means helping me become a Pleroma, doesn't that contradict things? I firmly believed you were offering to help with what I did during the day."
"Actually, since you said you couldn't tell me about today's work, I wondered if perhaps Mr. Asman was walking the same path as me. Of course, I'm willing to help with any field if it's your request."
"..."
Asman realized for sure that he had been led on. Whatever the true intent, the other was merely probing. If Asman hadn't shown signs of panic, it was a point that could have been passed over naturally.
Asman curled the corner of his mouth in response to Baichel, who was smiling as if asking why, and sank back into thought.
'...This is good.'
It's actually beneficial that we're in the same group.
Promotion within the cult and the power of life and death depend on the first generation.
Baichel, far from being any threat, had essentially handed over his lifeline.
So...
'There shouldn't be any problem if I get a little friendly with him.'
The fact that the first person here to whom he'd warmed up was in the same situation but in a lower position pleased Asman immensely.
'Finally, let me test him with one question.'
Asman looked into Baichel's eyes again and asked, "You said you'd help."
"Yes."
"Can you give me your blood?"
"..."
Baichel, who had been smiling leisurely the whole time, looked at Asman with his mouth slightly agape.
'Of course.'
Second generations don't drink blood, so his surprise was natural.
The reason for asking anyway was to inform him that Asman himself was first generation and to test his loyalty.
Even putting the test aside, if he didn't reveal he was first generation, Baichel would feel betrayed later upon learning the truth, just as Asman had felt uneasy earlier.
'Let's see how he reacts.'
Lay believers who've just set foot in aren't accustomed to matters of blood. Thinking Baichel might be horrified made Asman feel pointlessly bitter.
'...If he reacts that way, I'll have to tamper with his mind and erase my existence.'
If that's not enough, I'd have to eliminate him.
But if asked now whether he had the confidence to do that, Asman himself knew he had none at all.
Fortunately, Baichel soon regained his composure and smiled.
"Not yet."
* * *
"Can you give me your blood?"
Look at him coming on strong.
The question is a bit out of the blue, so it feels like a test. He wants to see how far I'll go.
If I answer wrong here, any plans go out the window.
But the truth is, I can't give it.
Since blood flows with mana, he'd realize I've been lying all along.
Let me answer appropriately.
"Not yet."
"Does that mean you can later?"
"Of course. Once I'm mentally prepared, that is."
Gelda burst out laughing.
It was a laugh as if to say, who needs mental preparation for something like that?
'He's already thrown common sense out the window.'
Common sense says, who would say "help yourself" when someone asks to drink their blood? He should know that half-permission is already miraculous.
'The conversation is about over, let's check.'
Gelda Asman
Favorability +7.5
*'...Favorability went up...'
Is it because he realizes I'm in an unassailable position? His guard seems to have definitely lowered a layer.
The fact that favorability rose knowing that gives off a whiff of kinship for some reason, but I decided to just ignore it.
The Pleroma probably don't use purely innocent and simple people as pawns anyway, so it's not that surprising.
"Alright."
While I was looking at the favorability window, Gelda, as if having made a decision, spoke up.
"You probably know by now, but I'm a first-generation Pleroma."
"I see."
"As you said, by becoming a Pleroma, I gained the qualification to use magic. But as you'd know if you're also on our side, nothing comes without a price."
'Gained the qualification'?
Normally, one would say 'became able to use.' It's a subtly roundabout way of putting it.
Has he not yet been granted the ability to use Vitriol?
Thinking this and that, I asked, "A price?"
"The price for obtaining immortality and magic. The mission bestowed upon me is to make new lives join in His will. The thing I couldn't tell you about today is exactly this."
Even though false emotions were filling my reason, I could immediately tell the other was talking nonsense.
I ignored my growing headache and continued the act.
"A mission... Impressive. How was it bestowed?"
"You receive a revelation the moment you are reborn. You know without anyone teaching you."
Gelda smiled with a genuinely proud face.
So... it's not like an organizational quota was presented, like 'bring 10 people within a month.'
Since he said it was a revelation, it wasn't delivered as a document either.
Meaning, there are no documents to seize from him. To obtain evidence as a document, I'd have to go higher up.
Good info, thanks. Need to revise the strategy once.
Then, Gelda narrowed his eyes as if pondering briefly and asked me, "By the way, I have one schedule set for tomorrow. Would you like to come along?"
* * *
I shook my rain-dampened hair, drank the antidote, and sat down. Today, none of my friends could meet my eyes.
"What."
At the sharply spat question, Elias finally failed to manage his expression, leaning back as he laughed.
"Hahahaha! Hey, you really were cooped up at home for ten years, right? I thought you'd be a bit shaky... but you talk more coherently than I expected?"
"..."
Due to the situation, I couldn't carry a recorder as the risk of detection was higher than with Strauch. Instead, I used sensory transfer magic again. Probably because of what I said today.
Since it's 'sensory' transfer, it can't be stored or re-recorded, but it was a decision made to try using Narke's ability a little.
Narke was snickering with her hand over her mouth, so no need to look further.
I looked at Leo, who was averting his eyes, and called him.
"Leo."
"..."
He heard it too.
Perhaps thinking I might be embarrassed, he was pretending to be serious alone, but it ended with him unable to meet my eyes.
People hiding something either make excessive eye contact or act conspicuously like this guy. Now that I look, he seems to have a hint of a smile too.
"I only relayed it to Narke. How do you two know?"
"We need to hear what Gelda Asman says too. Hearing it directly is more certain," Elias answered.
From my perspective, it seems they just listened because it sounded interesting.
Anyway, it's a story they need to hear regardless, so no problem. Saves me from having to explain again.
"You heard, so you know?"
"Yeah, I checked just in case..." Leo cleared his throat, loosened his neck, pulled a newspaper from his bag, and pushed it toward me.
The back page of the Imperial Newspaper, in a small corner column, there was a missing persons article.
[Looking for Missing Child]
Name: Anna Bauer (7 years old)
Date Missing: December 4th, 3 PM
Missing Area: Heirigen City Public Park
Physical & Clothing Description: 117cm, 19.5kg, City Orphanage bag and name tag
Circumstances: Missing during Heirigen Orphanage afternoon walk free time (15:00~15:10)
"It's already happened. The plainclothes police stationed for 24 hours said they didn't sense anything unusual the whole time."
* * *
Right, that was the speed.
In the novel, they also abducted people without hesitation. That's why it caught Elias's eye too.
December 4th is the day of the crime, which happened before I drew out the fact that he was a Pleroma, on my third meeting with Asman.
Timing-wise, it was a crime I couldn't have intervened in.
Still, I couldn't help feeling heavy-hearted.
"We're here."
I took Gelda's hand and helped him down from the carriage.
Heirigen City Orphanage.
While Gelda pressed the doorbell, I read the plaque by the entrance. Soon, the thick iron door slid open.
Normally, we might have exchanged small talk, but today, even with the drug's effect, I didn't feel like it.
As I remained silent, Gelda Asman looked around and muttered, "The atmosphere is dark."
"Naturally."
Since you're the one who caught and handed over the person.
We completed procedures for identification and safety and headed to the activity room. Given the timing, outsiders were subjects of suspicion, so we could enter on the condition of being in the same space as the teacher here.
Upon entering the activity room, we could see the teacher watching the playground with a dark expression. No lively atmosphere could be felt from the children playing outside either.
"Teacher."
"Ah, you're here."
The teacher smiled faintly and looked at us.
Gelda sat opposite him and spoke with concerned eyes.
"I heard everything. You must be very distressed."
"..."
The teacher didn't answer, turned his head to look out the window, and replied belatedly.
"...To disappear in 10 minutes..."
Gelda Asman held his hand, patted it, and said in a calm voice, "It must be very hard. Even I, who haven't known these children long, feel heartache, so you must be suffering terribly. Let's believe they can return."
"I must."
He forced another smile but finally began to shed tears. I heard he was the teacher who took out the children aged 7 to 10 that day.
After calming down somewhat, the teacher said he would gather the children, opened the glass door, and went out.
Gelda watched the teacher crossing toward the playground and spoke to me.
"You don't feel guilty, do you?"
"...How could I?"
You can't feel it?
I ignored the churning in my gut and smiled.
Gelda nodded and looked at the children.
"They should consider it an honor. Does the chance to offer oneself to Him come to just anyone?"
"..."
Hand them over and then tell them to consider it an honor.
Over the past few days, spending daily life together, Gelda Asman seemed so human that I had forgotten.
Asman's brain is already manipulated by the Pleroma and cannot think normally.
He's a hopeless human scum beyond redemption. No, can such words fully express this ugliness? If possible, I'd want to find a more fitting expression.
'...Who am I and what am I doing in front of whom?'
That sense of disgust I felt when first encountering the resurrected Asman comes alive again. Even though it's a fake emotion created by drugs, since it's what I feel, a completely different, nauseating self-loathing rises, unlike when uttering embarrassing words.
Then, Asman turned his head toward me and asked with a worried face, "What's wrong?"
"..."
I changed my mind.
How to proceed to obtain explicit evidence a little faster?
I stared intently at Asman's face and opened my mouth.
"...I'm feeling a bit unwell. Actually, I got caught in the rain on the way back yesterday."
"Ah, it did rain. Can you stay here?"
"We have plans for today. We must do them."
"I can do it alone. If you're really unwell, go in and rest."
Would I leave him to abduct someone alone?
I shook my head, clasping the hand reaching toward my cheek.
Of course, abduction doesn't happen on the same day the target is chosen. I found out through long conversation yesterday.
He said he chooses other days to commit the crime because if a disappearance occurs on a day he visited, he could become a suspect.
So, today is for selecting the target.
Anyway, there's a gap of several days before he executes the abduction.
Meaning there's time to lay the groundwork and gradually put my plan into action.
"No, I can hold on enough for today. Let's proceed."
* * *
Too sick to go.
That was the content of the letter I sent Asman the next day.
The abduction execution date was set for three days later, and I feigned having caught the flu in the meantime.
Holding the letter from Gelda Asman that had warped to the aerial mailbox, I walked into the school.
Warping from the dormitory to the student council building basement again, Elias, who was reading the letter I'd given him, waved his hand and read aloud.
"I didn't know they placed target curse spells on food. I'll have to be careful if I meet other Pleroma in the future. Of course, for Mr. Asman... Hwahak!"
"Pfft..."
Narke, who was reading my letter with Elias, urgently covered her mouth with her hand and burst out laughing.
"Don't read it."
Suppressing the urge to immediately tear up the letter I wrote, I took out the newspaper filter.
I'd seen Elias use it with the newspaper once before.
A thin paper that regenerates the mana of magic paper or ink, often used to listen to sounds recorded in articles.
'Of course, that function isn't important.'
It's just a cover to prevent the letter from getting wet; plain paper would work too.
But I chose it because among the papers I knew, it was the toughest while still showing the contents clearly—it was originally made to be put over newspapers for reading.
I put the letter in the filter and placed it between heated irons.
While searing the filter with heat to adhere it to the letter, Elias continued reading the letter written by Gelda Asman.
"Thanks for the reply. I'll send it using the magic ink you sent along. It disappears after an hour, I didn't even know such a thing existed. It's perfect for us... Wow, thorough~?"
Elias winked at me.
I didn't lie.
It's ink that truly disappears without a trace the moment one hour passes from activation.
It's commonly used nowadays, but it's a magical item that wasn't invented 40 years ago when Asman was alive, so it's unfamiliar.
To put him at ease so I could include detailed plans in the letter, time-limited magic ink was an essential tool.
'Of course, the problem is even if he's put at ease, if the letters really fly away, it becomes useless...'
Fortunately, there's one point I can utilize here.
To put it elaborately, if you render mana unusable, naturally the magic formed by gathered mana can't function properly either.
So, I destroyed the mana contained in the ink by searing it with heat.
Magic did significantly break the existing scientific system, but it's still a field that interacts with our ecosystem.
When I received materials from Leo to change poison into an enhancer, I also succeeded in conversion by adjusting heat and concentration. Ultimately, from experience so far, it's clear mana is also affected by heat.
I could have borrowed a camera from the Bavarian Kingdom newspaper to take a photo, but it wouldn't be the original anymore, and since the materials were simple anyway, I coated it myself.
Leo, who was helping put the letter in the filter, curled the corner of his mouth and muttered.
"Your petty cunning is still working well."
"Petty cunning?"
The expression isn't great, but since even Leo looks satisfied this time, it's fine.
I smiled, looking at the handwriting and the postal cancellation mark on the envelope, now perfectly fixed and never to disappear.
He said there were no documented materials.
Then, all I had to do was induce him to create them himself.
—-----------
T/N:
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