At exactly four in the morning, the heavy silence of the Archnemesis mansion was broken. Hermes rose from his bed and began packing his gear for the escort mission. He moved with a quiet efficiency, checking his equipment. Beneath his outer layers, the Mask of Destruction sat securely—appearing as nothing more than a simple traveler's accessory, yet vibrating with a hidden, dormant power.
As he descended the grand staircase, he spotted a shadow lingering in the foyer. Justin was on the telephone, his voice a low, hurried murmur. The moment the butler caught sight of Hermes in the distance, he hung up with a sharp, audible click.
The reaction was far too sudden. Hermes felt a spike of suspicion. "Who were you talkin' to earlier?" he asked, his voice grave and echoing in the hall.
Justin turned, his expression instantly smoothing into a mask of perfect service. "It was our associate from the organization, my Don."
Hermes rubbed his jaw, his gaze sharpening. "Hmm? From our organization, or from the other company?"
"From the other company," the butler replied without a second's hesitation.
Hermes turned away, though his gut remained unsettled. "Never mind. I thought it was something serious."
Justin let out a soft, rehearsed chuckle. "Oh, yes. There's nothing to worry about, my Don. They are friendly, of course."
The young Don paused. He noticed a slight twitch in Justin's brow—a minute sign of nervousness that was entirely out of character for the usually unflappable Consigliere.
"Is something wrong, Justin?"
"I'm okay, boss," the butler asserted quickly.
"You look so intense. Relax, Justin. To be frank, you've been acting pretty weird lately. Is there anything I can help you with?" Hermes queried incredulously.
Justin's face flushed slightly. "Oh, please. You're making me blush. This Justin here is very pleased. Honestly, there's nothing wrong, my Don. I'm truly fine. Everything is alright."
Despite Hermes's attempt to dig for information, Justin remained stubbornly evasive. Hermes's survival instincts—a lingering trait from the game's mechanics—began to flare. His ability to sense mistrust in his surroundings was ticking upward. He couldn't decide whether to trust his butler's word or begin doubting the very man who managed his life.
Realizing the young Don was thinking too deeply, Justin sought an exit. "I will prepare the car now, sir. We'll be late if we don't make haste," he said, excusing himself to flee the conversation.
Suspicious, Hermes thought, watching him go.
….
Hermes stepped out into the morning mist. He wore a crisp white shirt under a sturdy, silky-green leather jacket, topped with a tophat favored by colonial explorers. With gray trousers and black boots, his outfit was perfectly suited for hunting and trekking through the undergrowth.
"Everything is ready, my Don," Justin said, lowering his head as he held the car door open.
The young Don nodded and slid into the backseat. Their destination was the Camella house. It was a secondary side quest—a simple way to improve his standing with a local household and secure his foundation in the village.
"Keep your eyes peeled, Justin," Hermes reminded him as they pulled away. "We don't know when or where the people from the Visigoth cult might attack."
Justin glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice a steady baritone. "There's nothing to worry about, my Don. The cultists won't do any harm as long as I am here."
Hermes clicked his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Focus on the road, moron."
A slight, knowing smile touched Justin's lips at the sarcastic remark. "My Don, what did you bring for the mission?"
"A .38 caliber pistol, four boxes of ammunition, a pack of sandwiches I made personally, food, water, and a map of the Dark Scily Forest," Hermes listed.
"Is that all?"
"Oh, and I have some candies, too."
The atmosphere inside the car froze. Justin's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Let me guess... for the commoners?"
Hermes clicked his tongue again. "Oi, oi. They aren't just simple commoners. They are the children of our client. Show some respect, will ya?"
Justin heaved a long, dramatic sigh, shifting gears with more force than necessary. "But sir, let me remind you. That man—Chief Zamor—is a terrible person. He's not a simple man. My gut keeps telling me to be wary of that dimwit. As far as I know, he's not even worthy of our honor."
Hermes folded his arms and crossed his legs. "Ah, shut it. You don't know anything about him."
"Oh, no, no, no, my Don. I know everything about that person, and I have plenty of evidence to support my case," the butler countered sharply.
"On what basis?"
"He's a son of a bitch. He is planning a coup against us," Justin disputed, his face fuming with a pragmatic yet intense rage.
Hermes rubbed his neck, seeing the heat in his butler's eyes. He leaned forward and tapped Justin's shoulder. "You really hate him, don't you? I know he's a commoner, but isn't that an exaggeration?" he chuckled.
"Oh, no, no, no. Let me correct you, sir. I don't hate him that much. Please, this isn't a laughing matter. This is very serious. I dislike him because he is a troublemaker who plans to rebel against you, boss!"
So, what's the difference, moron? It's the same thing, Hermes thought. He clapped his hands once and cleared his throat. "Alright, I won't trust him blindly. He's a guy with a hidden agenda, just like me. However, keep your distrust contained. I don't want to ruin my reputation or my relationship with the people backing him up."
They were now only two kilometers from the village outskirts.
"It is good that you have such confidence," Justin said, secretly recalling the call he had made to Mambo. "I just hope you won't forget that face in front of anyone else."
"Of course. Who do you think I am? I'm Hermes Archnemesis. Anyway, what do you mean by that? Never mind. Focus on the road, Justin. Make haste."
"Roger, boss," Justin saluted.
As the car sped forward, Hermes propped his chin on his hand. "Okay. There's something I want to know. I just remembered—how was the prisoner last night?"
Justin let out a dark, amused chuckle. "Well, he's fine... for now."
'For now?' Hermes's eyebrow shot up.
The young Don adjusted his gear, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his butler. "Did you get any more information from the guy in the dungeon?"
Justin's brow furrowed, a flicker of genuine frustration crossing his face. "Negative. I'm afraid to say I didn't get anything further from that man last night, my Don."
Hermes clicked his tongue, his eyes crinkling with irritation. "How disappointing," he muttered.
"Forgive me, boss," Justin apologized, his head bowing slightly.
"Nah, forget about it," Hermes clarified, waving a hand dismissively. "We'll squeeze him dry later. Nobody can endure that kind of treatment forever. Anyway, just make sure to tag along with the Chief for now, okay?"
Justin nodded firmly. "Copy that. I will make sure to play along with his stupidity and absurdity."
"That's not exactly what I wanted to hear, but whatever," Hermes sighed.
The car passed through the entrance gate of the Camella estate with ease. Once the village militia recognized their faces, they were greeted with respectful salutes and waved through without a formal identification check.
"Boss, are you really planning to go alone on this mission?" Justin asked, his voice laced with renewed worry. "I'm afraid it's going to be dangerous."
"Hmm, well, yeah," the young Don confirmed.
"But you'll be put in a difficult position! How could I possibly guard you when I'm not even with you?" Justin frowned.
Hermes gave a thumbs-up. "Don't bother. No matter what happened, I can protect myself."
'That's because I have the slime power,' he affirmed internally.
The slime pulsed within him, its voice echoing in his mind: "Master is right."
"Shut it, slime," the young Don demanded silently, though his irritation leaked out into a mumble.
Justin blinked, looking at him in surprise. "What? What did you say, boss? Me... a slime? Calling me a slime now, huh? Man, you're getting even more sadistic by the day," he fretted, clearly misinterpreting the outburst.
Hermes pointed an index finger at his butler's face. "Forget about it. Shut your mouth and forget what I just said."
"Copy, sir," Justin replied, though he looked deeply wounded.
As they drew closer to the Camella residence, a shiver ran down Hermes's spine. His suspicions flared again when he noticed a strange, triumphant glow on Justin's face. The butler looked far too happy for a man who was supposedly worried about leaving his master alone.
"Justin, are you hiding something from me?" Hermes asked for the second time.
Justin chuckled, though a bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple. "No, no! You're wrong, my Don. I'm not hiding anything."
"Bullshit. I've never seen your face look like that."
The butler shook his head vigorously in defense. "Hmm? How? Am I really that suspicious? To be honest, I'm telling the truth, boss. I ain't hiding a thing. Please, trust me."
Hermes kicked the back of the driver's seat. "Keep your poker face out of my sight. You're definitely hiding something, aren't you?" He reached into his bag, pulled out his .38 caliber pistol, and pressed the cold barrel against Justin's cheek.
"Oh, no, my Don! This Justin here would never lie!" the butler squeaked, his eyes darting to the road. "I honestly told you the truth! Oh, look—we're here!"
Hermes clicked his tongue and holstered the gun. "Your face is telling the opposite. But whatever." He hoisted his pack onto his shoulders. "I'm ready. Drop me closer to the house."
Justin wiped the sweat from his face and exhaled a massive sigh of relief as the car came to a halt. As Hermes stepped out, Justin leaned through the window and handed him a single, perfectly bloomed red rose.
The young Don tilted his head, his face a mask of confusion. "What's this for?"
Justin simply lowered his head, a dark, knowing smirk playing on his lips, and hopped back into the driver's seat. "Don Hermes, I will leave you now. Have fun," he saluted and hit the gas.
"W-W-Wait! Justin! What am I supposed to do with this thing?" Hermes tried to chase the car, but the butler was already speeding away.
A heavy sense of dread washed over Hermes. His body trembled, and for a moment, he could almost hear terrifying boss-encounter music playing in his mind.
"Oh, my God! He's here!" a familiar, high-pitched voice screamed.
Hermes's eyes flew wide. His pupils trembled and his face turned a pale shade of blue. His legs nearly gave out as he slowly turned around to face the person who had called his name.
"W-Why the hell are you here?" he managed to choke out.
Standing there was the High Priestess, her radiant smile blinding him. "Hello, Sir Aljen!"
Her summer outfit shone like a diamond. It was crafted from enchanted silk and white pebbles, possessing the power to deflect hostile magical assaults. On her head sat a wide-brimmed summer hat, perfect for jungle exploration, covering her long, platinum hair. As a stray wind blew, her hair flowed like water; she quickly pressed a hand to her hat to keep it in place, giggling at the breeze.
Her reddish cheeks and glowing skin made her look like a beautiful angel descended from heaven. Any other man would have been reduced to a fanatical simp by her flashing gaze, but Hermes felt only the cold grip of a death flag. His past experiences with women who used their authority to dominate others had given him a high resistance to her charms. He quickly adjusted his "traveler's mask" before she could see his true expression, shifting his attention to the children.
"Brother Aljen!" the twins cried out, waving their hands. Both carried large wicker baskets on their backs.
They ran to him, hitting his stomach with their faces in a gentle, clumsy embrace of childhood affection. Despite his internal panic, the young Don couldn't help but hug them back; he had a soft spot for their genuine greetings.
The Priestess actually teared up, watching the "heartwarming" scene through her own distorted romantic lens.
Hermes knelt on one knee, petting their heads. "Hey, how are you guys doing?"
On his right was July Camella, who had short, lime-colored hair and pale skin. She wore a blue collector's outfit with a short hiking skirt. On his left, Troy Camella, with his curved, greenish hair, wore a light brown peasant suit that made him look like a miniature adventurer from a guild.
"Brother, brother! We're all so happy to see you again!" July chirped with glee.
He poked her cheek gently. "Oh, come on, July. This Aljen here is very pleased to see your happy face, too."
"Me too! What about me, brother?" Troy insisted, tugging at Hermes's sleeve.
Hermes gave the boy a gentle fist-bump. "You little lad are very brave. You're growing into a fine man, Troy."
The boy beamed. "Hehe! Thank you!"
Hermes stood up and petted their heads one last time. "Alright. Are you guys all packed?" The twins snapped a sharp salute in unison. "Yes!"
Hermes's gaze hardened as he looked past the glowing Priestess toward the dark treeline of the forest. "Alright then. Let's ignore the nuisance and head to our destination without worries. Let's go."
The High Priestess waved her hands in frantic disbelief, her romantic world-building momentarily shattered by Hermes's dismissal. "Eh? A nuisance?"
The twins tilted their heads in unison, completely clueless as to why the "Goddess Lady" looked like her puppy had just been kicked. However, Hermes's path was suddenly blocked by a towering, familiar silhouette. Mambo stepped out from the shade of a nearby oak, his expression a mix of professional duty and "please-don't-kill-me" desperation.
"What the fuck are you doing here too, Mambo?" Hermes asked, his tone dripping with annoyance.
"Umm... uh, Sir Aljen," Mambo stammered, awkwardly pointing a thumb back at his master. "What about the Priestess?"
"Oh, what about her? Good grief, I almost forgot. That is a tough question," Hermes muttered, covering his face with one hand. The shiver of the "bad omen" was now a full-blown migraine.
Mambo leaned in, whispering urgently while gesturing toward Venus. "She's sulking, sir."
"Ah, shit. She's sulking now? Give me a break," Hermes groaned. "I thought I'd seen an illusion earlier. Jeez, for crying out loud... what are you people really doing here, Mambo?"
Mambo reached into his coat and produced a folded piece of parchment. "Sir Aljen, we received the same request from the Village Chief. Here is the official letter of request."
"Oh, fair enough." Hermes reached out, his mind already looking for a loophole. "Let me take a look at that."
Mambo flinched, quickly pulling the letter back and stuffing it into his chest pocket. "I'm afraid that's unnecessary! Please forgive me, but we must keep it... for safety reasons."
Hermes's left eyebrow shot up, his eyes crinkling with deep suspicion. The way Mambo guarded that paper was more than "safe"—it was secretive. 'That geezer Zamor... did he set me up? Or did Justin forge a church document?' he wondered.
Mambo noticed the doubtful gaze and pivoted his strategy. "Y-you don't know, sir?" he asked bluntly, playing the part of the confused subordinate to perfection. Even Venus stopped sulking for a second to play along. "The Chief asked us personally. This is the first time I've seen you so ill-informed. Jokes aside... how about we work together as a team while taking care of the twins?"
'Goddamn it, Justin. Did you use your influence to ruin me? This is a crisis,' Hermes thought. His carefully planned "quiet favor" was now a high-profile circus.
"Ah, shit. Never mind. Do what you want," Hermes gave in, waving a hand. "Let's go, Mambo."
"Sir... what about my master?" Mambo asked sincerely.
"Brother, that girl is very sus," July whispered, hugging Hermes's left arm while pointing a finger at the Priestess. "July is scared. Did something happen between the two of you?"
"No, no, no! You're completely wrong," Hermes denied adamantly, his face turning a shade of frustrated red. He wanted this task finished yesterday, so he made a decision he knew he would regret. "Hey, Priestess."
Venus's eyes shook with excitement, her sulking disappearing instantly. "Hmph?"
'What now? Don't look at me like that,' Hermes pleaded internally. "Priestess."
"Hmph!" She dramatically averted her gaze to the trees.
"High Priestess?"
"Hmph! Hmph!" She shook her head, looking the other way.
Hermes scratched his head, his voice dropping to a reluctant mumble. "Venus?"
"Yes, Sir Aljen!" she chirped, spinning around with a face full of spirit. The sudden shift made Hermes flinch.
"You can come with us. Since you supposedly received the same mission, we'd better work together."
"Yehey!" Venus cheered, pumping her fists in the air.
….
As they began their trek, Hermes stopped the group at the trailhead. "Listen up. We need to stick together. No one goes off alone, and everyone follows the instructions of the party leader. Got it?"
Unanimously, and mostly because Venus pushed for it with fanatical zeal, Hermes was elected leader. "I guess it can't be helped," he sighed. "Now, I want to use a specific protocol. We need a code for each other."
"A code?" the twins asked. Troy raised his hand. "What's a code stand for?"
"Kids, it's a nickname. An alias to keep our identities safe in the woods."
"Cool~!" the twins cheered.
"So," Hermes clapped his hands. "Any ideas for the theme of our aliases?"
Venus's hand shot up like a rocket. "Oh! Me! I have an idea!"
"Go on, Ms. Aphrodite," Hermes said warily.
"How about we use a family category as the basis for our aliases?" she proposed calmly.
Hermes rubbed his jaw. He thought she was referring to the ranker codenames often used in the game, like "The Father" or "The Matriarch."
"Give me an example," he asked.
Venus grinned broadly. "Here's the deal: I will call this little boy my son, and you, little lamb, will be my daughter. In other words, I'll be the mother of the twins at a young age! Kyaaa, I love it!"
The twins' eyes went blank.
"G-g-good suggestion," Hermes stammered, a cold sweat breaking out. "So Mambo will play the part of the father?"
Venus's expression turned icy for a split second. "It would be very suspicious. Mambo isn't my type, and he's already past the age of a breeder."
"Okay, that was surprisingly sarcastic. Sorry, Mambo. You'll just be the servant again."
"I... I don't mind at all," Mambo sniffled, wiping a stray tear.
Venus turned back to Hermes with a determined face. "You, Sir Aljen, will play the part of the father in this fake family. It's a perfect disguise! How about I call you 'Honey' instead of your name?"
"W-w-wait, what the heck? Why 'Honey'?" Hermes gulped.
"Oh, my bad. 'Honey' is so common nowadays," Venus corrected herself with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "How about 'Darling'?"
Hermes pressed his palm to his forehead. "That's even worse! What are you suggesting? We aren't using that."
"But you agreed we would play as a family!" she argued, tilting her head innocently.
"Venus, that's not the point! That's a completely different category of family!"
"I'm the mother, the twins are the children, and the vacant seat is the father. Forget about Mambo; he isn't important," she declared.
"Gagh! Milady, that hurts!" Mambo cried.
Venus reached out and covered the twins' eyes. "Ignore the servant, kids."
"Umm, why did we even jump to this?" Hermes questioned, feeling his grip on the situation slipping.
"Why not?" Venus countered.
Troy simpered, looking at the adults. "I don't know what's going on, but I think this is fun!"
"Agree!" July seconded, giggling at the "Father's" panicked face.
Hermes stepped forward and, without hesitation, flicked Venus on the forehead. The sharp thwack echoed in the quiet morning air, and she immediately staggered back, covering the spot with her hands and a deeply pouted face.
"Y'know better than anyone that this is an escort mission. Our—I mean, my objective is very simple, High Priestess," Hermes stated, trying to regain some semblance of professional ground.
"Venus," she interjected softly.
"High Priestess."
"Venus," she corrected him a second time, her eyes pleading.
Hermes let out an exhausted breath. "Okay, Ms. Venus," he gave in.
"Just Venus."
"Alright, alright! Fine! Whatever! Okay, Venus... my objective is to escort these children safely through the forest. That is the only priority here."
Venus blinked, her expression shifting from playful to utter confusion. "W-W-Weren't we supposed to go for a picnic? Or something... romantic?" she dumbfoundedly blurted out.
Hermes's eyes turned razor-sharp, flashing with a sudden, dark suspicion. "What?"
"Oh, shit. Milady!" Mambo scrambled toward his master, closing the distance in a panicked blur. He leaned into her ear, whispering urgently, "Milady! We're supposed to be playing the part of the escort too! Stick to the script!"
"Ah! My bad!" Venus gasped, covering her mouth with her palms as the realization of her slip-up hit her. Her eyes widened into saucers when she saw her crush looking at her with a face like a brewing thunderstorm.
"High Priestess Venus... what exactly was that all about?" Hermes asked, his voice low and grave.
"Venus," she insisted again, pouting her cheeks even harder.
The reaction left the young Don agitated. By all rights, he should have been the one in control of the situation, yet she had somehow managed to reverse the cycle of authority with sheer, stubborn cuteness. He felt the phantom weight of the Mask of Destruction in his bag; if only he could put it on and disappear into the trees.
"Pardon. Venus. Fine," he surrendered, raising his hands. "Okay, let's make a deal. I don't know what your true intentions are, but please, take this mission seriously. I hope you won't cause any trouble once we're inside the forest. You and your bodyguard—sorry, Mambo—"
"—It's fine, sir. I'm used to it," Mambo sighed.
Hermes continued, "Mambo will act as a guard since he's clearly more compatible with the job than a simple merchant like me. He'll keep a watch on the children while they perform their tasks. And you..."
Venus leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "Yes?"
"You will come with me. I want you to stick close—I mean, not closer than a lich! Keep your distance, Venus," he ordered, physically putting an arm out to stop her just as she was about to spring forward and cling to his shoulder.
Her face fell instantly into a sulk. "I'm so sorry, Sir Aljen. Am I such a bother?"
'YES!' he shouted internally, but his past life's etiquette prevented the word from reaching his lips.
Hermes had planned to use this mission for private exploration, hoping to scout the forest's layout for his future war against the Visigoth cult. Now, those plans were in tatters. He was stuck with a high-profile Saint and a suspicious bodyguard who clearly had a hidden agenda—most likely orchestrated by that traitorous butler of his.
He looked at the single red rose still in his hand—the one Justin had forced on him. Seeing her genuine distress, and wanting to move the group along before they lost any more time, he thrust the flower toward her.
"Don't worry about it," he said, the gesture making her face light up with instant, radiant delight. "Just keep your head in the game. Let's proceed to our destination before lunch."
Venus took the rose as if it were a holy relic, clutching it to her chest. "Yes, Darling—I mean, Leader!"
Hermes turned toward the dark treeline, muttering under his breath. "This is going to be a long day."