Three female servants of the Church entered the chapel, their steps rhythmic and silent as they prepared pastries and drinks for the small assembly. They moved with practiced grace, offering each person a steaming cup of tea. However, only Justin humbly declined the offer, remaining a silent, watchful sentinel exactly one foot behind his master.
To any other man, these girls were beauties capable of captivating the heart. But through the observant eyes of the young Don—still feeling the slight dampness on his neck from the Priestess's earlier doting greeting—they were beasts ready to kill him from behind. If he let his guard down for even a second, he would meet his maker in no time.
The progress of this world was unreadable and unpredictable. The people here, especially the girls, were all cynical. To fight it, he had to remain on guard at all times. Girls were the primary dominating gender in Euroasia; in this world, they held the right to build their own reversed harems if they so desired. They could secretly conduct affairs within and outside their domains, and the government would tolerate it even if they were caught.
They treated their male lovers as mere collectibles or pets. Fortunately, not all of them were like that—one out of ten in this generation remained loyal to one man, much like Hermes's mother had stayed loyal to his father. Still, the women in this world were generally disappointing. He wished he could correct his mistakes, but it was too late. They were no longer a program he could manipulate with CSS codes; he had to study them, read the mood, and mind his manners during every conversation.
Unfair? Indeed. But that was the law here—a dream world for the feminists of his former life that had ruined everything they touched. He had no time for playing around while he was already standing in the mud of danger. To pluck every death flag, he had to understand his surroundings and keep his eyes peeled. It was better to be cynical than to be found dead in a canal.
Consequently, he would do everything in his power to prevent his death at the hands of the twelve female playable characters in this reversed otome game. That was the main objective. He had already encountered scenarios that weren't even part of the original events, so he had to adapt and remain calm everywhere he went.
His plan to exile himself to Amerigo was still in positive progress. The first objective was to remove his name from the village blacklist so he could depart without enemies. By doing so, he would avoid the female protagonists and their upcoming "troublemaker" lovers who were the catalyst for the Holy War.
Thankfully, his trust rating with his client, Chief Zamor, had increased, and the people didn't suspect anything dubious about the man they knew only as Mr. Aljen. Gaining the trust of such an important figure was a top priority. Once he gathered enough information, he would maintain this relationship until his plan for the village was fully developed.
His true motive was to convert this village into a town, allowing him to sell the titular lordship to the rival Verdugo clan at a high price. Since it was originally their domain before the Archnemesis occupied it, it was like fixing a broken toy just to sell it for a massive profit.
His lips lifted slightly behind his mask as he contemplated the fate he was crafting. What a great plan! he thought. He rested his arms on the armrest, waiting for Chief Zamor to speak.
Reading the mood of his "contractor," the Chief finally spoke.
"Mr. Aljen, I'm happy to see you again. It's really been an honor to see you present in person today. I know you have already met these two beautiful young ladies in person—given the lively greeting in the hall—so let's skip the introductions, shall we? Today, I am here as a bridge between you and our benefactor. She is the one who wants to use your skills for this job."
Aljen tilted his head in confusion and crossed his arms over his chest. He spoke with a sharp, sarcastic edge.
"Oh, a new benefactor? Well, I'm not sure why I should take the job, though. Hey, Chief. Let me remind you that I only took the previous job to save her life because I knew you wouldn't betray my expectations. My service isn't free, you know that. I want to clarify that I won't take any favors without a high price to extract from that person."
Chief Zamor's face turned a sickly blue, cold sweat beading on his forehead after catching a glimpse of the terrifying gaze behind Aljen's mask. He coughed nervously and lowered his head in apology.
"Mr. Aljen, I knew you were going to say that. But this person has personally wanted to hire you for this job. To be honest... she's right here with us," he jested.
The young Don felt his face turn pale, a dead sensation creeping through his chest. Cold sweat broke out across his brow as his eyes shifted slowly toward the person the Chief was pointing at.
"For real?" he spouted, the words slipping out unintentionally.
The Priestess of Neue Fiona, Venus Aphrodite, nodded with pure glee. Her eyes sparkled with an affection that made Hermes's skin crawl beneath his merchant's attire.
"Yes, my lov—Mr. Aljen. For real," she said. "I asked our Chief to be the bridge between us. I'm too shy to ask you in person, so I had to use some connections to initiate it. I sent you a lot of letters to ask you personally, but I didn't receive any replies, which led me to do this. I'm sorry. Well, I do understand your current position as a merchant from another country. But, to be honest, I'm so worried that you're a hardworking man and you're too busy nowadays. I know you're having a hard time scheduling yourself, but please don't overdo it and take a good rest, okay?"
"What?" Hermes's mouth trembled.
To be honest, he had been too scared to reply when the letters started arriving. He had wished he could tell her to stop, but a sea of envelopes had flooded his office over the past four days before he could even think of a response. It was like she was using a messenger with a high-speed internet connection.
"I'm so sorry, Ms. Aphrodite. I wished to reply to your heartful request, but I had business to take care of, so I failed to send one. Please forgive me for that," he said, lowering his head.
Fuckin' moron. I need to be polite in front of everyone, he thought bitterly. I want to scold her for disturbing my quiet life. Shit, I have to act nice so I won't increase her affection rate.
Her cheeks blushed in glee at his humble response. "Oh, my. You don't have to do that. Uh, eh, umm, let us now return to our topic, sir," she said, quickly regaining her polite composure.
Hermes raised his face and replied, "Of course. Now, where were we again?"
"Ah, the mission. Please, sir. I really want your help this time. I was so thankful that you saved me back then, so I knew you're the only one I could trust for this request. Please do me a favor. I will make sure to pay you for your service." She simpered, appearing incredibly convincing in the eyes of the others.
Hermes gulped when he saw her smile. It was an expression designed to be effective on the weak and the simps, but not on him. He was already used to this kind of situation; it reminded him of how he had been deceived by a junior in his past life when she asked him for a favor. He knew that behind such a mask, there was often a hidden side that only experience could reveal.
One of the servants approached and handed the young Don a sealed document. On the surface, it looked harmless, but a heart icon drawn in the middle with his name written inside gave him a fresh wave of cold sweat.
He didn't open it himself; he let Justin, his calm and observant attendant, remove the seal and read the content first. Only after receiving a silent nod of approval from his Consigliere did the young Don begin to read. He went through the pages one by one, taking thirty-four minutes to contemplate the full summary of the reports.
"Second Root?" Hermes asked, his gaze sharpening into a glare. He handed the documents back to Justin to hold for him.
"Yes, the Second Root," the Priestess explained briefly. "There are many reports about kidnapping incidents happening right now. After the fall of the Handdog gang, we found that another illegal organization is residing inside our village. We don't know exactly where the base of the criminals is yet, but I can guarantee they are here. Since they are hiding and blending with the public, we can't trace them easily. However, these documents found inside the abandoned Handdog base show a confidential link to this hideous organization."
Hermes hung his head to contemplate the situation further. The Second Root, hmm.
This organization wasn't part of the original program of this world as he knew it. He couldn't hide his frustration; something fishy was going on that threatened to derail his plans. Those people are ruining the plot of my game. I won't let them do as they please. But to think, a new opportunity arrived without delay. I'm going to make them regret it until the end of their days.
"Hmm, also," Venus continued, "ever since that night, I began to investigate every citizen that emigrates to our island."
According to the specific reports, a female orphan had disappeared the previous night. By the next morning, she had been found in the river—a corpse. She had been brutally murdered, her heart pierced with a dagger.
A servant handed him a paper showing the results of this investigation.
"By looking at this paper, there's a possibility that they couldn't recognize it as a report, but a survey instead, right?" he presumed.
"Well, we can refer to my investigation as a 'survey' to cover up the true nature of this operation," the High Priestess explained, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "I don't want the public to realize that every immigrant is being scrutinized because of these gruesome crimes. But think about it, Mr. Aljen—have you ever wondered why this place has suddenly become a trend for travelers? The Neue Fiona village isn't particularly wealthy, nor is it the safest environment to inhabit. Why have these people decided to flock to a place like this?"
Venus looked at him with a piercing, serious gaze that contrasted sharply with her earlier doting behavior.
Ylla followed up, her expression grim. "We have enough physical space for new citizens, but providing a safe life for them is another matter. We have the Dark Scily forest on one side and the pirates from Malta pestering our Eastern Scily borders for years. It makes one wonder why they keep coming."
"That's exactly the point, ladies. Why?" Chief Zamor added, his brow furrowed. "It is a question we haven't been able to answer since I took this position."
"High Priestess, I truly believe we can interpret this as a very strange development," Ylla said, her worry evident.
Venus sighed, momentarily letting her regal mask slip. "Yes, Ylla."
"So, what is the connection between this Second Root organization and the massive immigration of these people?" Hermes asked gravely, his mind already calculating the variables.
The ladies diverted their gaze toward him.
"The Second Root is using the immigrants to send sick people into our midst to spread disease," Ylla answered bluntly.
The High Priestess added, "And we suspect there is an illegal distribution of drugs within the district. However, we have no concrete evidence—we haven't even found a single sample to prove its existence."
"Drugs? A drug for what?" Hermes tilted his head in confusion.
In his original game logic, illegal narcotics of this nature weren't supposed to exist. This was another headache he hadn't programmed for.
"Regarding that, we aren't entirely sure," the High Priestess explained properly. "According to the last report from our spy, there is a drug that can turn a human into a monster. We have no solid evidence yet, but we speculate there is a link to human trafficking behind the shadows. It's possible the Pirates from Malta and the Second Root are involved in this criminal activity together. But we shouldn't jump to conclusions without a valid basis; there is no way we could judge them right away."
Hermes leaned forward, his curiosity turning sharp and dark. "How many are we talking about? The number of people who disappeared versus the number of people who arrived. Tell me."
The High Priestess grabbed her chest tightly, hesitating before she responded. "We can't provide the exact numbers from the past few years. But in short: for every ten people who migrate here, only two ever reach the village hall to register their names."
"And the rest?"
"The rest are... we can only mark them as missing." Her face couldn't hide her profound sadness. Ylla moved closer to the Lady, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder to ease her stress.
"What? It can't be," Hermes whispered, unable to hide his genuine shock.
"Yes. It is incredibly fishy," Zamor noted. The Chief then raised his hand before the young Don could follow up. "Mr. Aljen, our village is undoubtedly developing faster than the others. With your help, we are closing in on our vision—to become the next major town. But our required living space is reaching its limit. Population density, food, and environmental requirements need drastic improvement. Thanks to your investment, we've managed to decrease the deficit we faced from our infrastructure and security budgets."
"And what's the connection between that and her request?" Hermes asked, his voice rising with frustration. "I know you're praising me, but can we set the flattery aside for a moment?"
Justin moved closer, his presence a stabilizing force. Stooping slightly, he whispered into his master's ear.
"My Don," Justin murmured. "Please calm yourself. Do not show any emotion in front of these people. Show some sincerity, even if you don't truly care. Don't be affected by their emotions; stay strong. Zamor is trying to settle you with praise. It might be hasty, I know, but you need to stay focused on your objective. That is the only way to strategize against these enemies."
"I see. Thanks," Hermes whispered back.
"You're welcome, master," Justin replied, stepping back into his disciplined standby position.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Aljen. I didn't intend to ruin the mood," Chief Zamor apologized.
Hermes sighed. "No, it's okay. By the way, I thought this was just one request. This mission is quite difficult, ladies."
"I'm sorry. We didn't intend to involve you at first, sir," the High Priestess begged. "But you're the only one we can rely on. Please don't back down now."
Ylla looked at him nonchalantly. "Yes, Mr. Aljen. I know we've only met twice, but are you really going to leave us behind? Are you turning your back on us?"
"No, ladies. Calm down," Zamor interjected. "I don't think he's going to do that. But... are you?"
Hermes pressed his palm against his forehead.
"Well, can we take a break for the time being? I'm sorry about this. I know you're desperate, but I'm the one who has to do the work—if I accept the mission. Don't look at me like I'm your only hope. I'm just a human like the rest of you."
He stood up from his chair and continued, "Chief, Ladies, please understand my position. Give me a minute to decide."