Inside the church's private meeting room, the air was still and heavy. Chief Zamor and Justin sat on opposite sides of a long, polished table. The silence between them was thick, a measured weight that neither seemed hurried to lift. Justin had arrived well ahead of the scheduled time, a move Zamor had anticipated; it was the mark of a man who left nothing to chance.
Zamor Camelia wore a sturdy brown leather suit over a black long-sleeved shirt, the attire of a man who spent as much time in the field as he did in an office. He watched the butler across from him, noting the stillness in Justin's posture. Realizing Justin had no intention of breaking the silence first, Zamor took the initiative.
"I know it's already late for me to greet you properly, sir. Please, forgive the delay," Zamor said, his voice smooth as he offered a small, polite smile. "Anyway, how is your boss?"
Justin's expression didn't shift, but his eyes narrowed. "Oi, Zamor. You're taking advantage of my master's kindness, aren't you? I don't know what you're hiding, but I won't be forgiving if anything happens to him."
The Chief shook his head slowly. "Of course not."
Without a word, Justin lifted a folder from his forearm and slid it across the table. The paper moved with a crisp, singular sound. Zamor broke the seal and pulled out the document within.
"Is this the contract?" Zamor asked, his nose wrinkling slightly as he scanned the technical language of the paragraphs.
"Yes," Justin replied. "That is the contract. It ensures the favor you requested is now officially recognized as a legal request from the village head. All that remains is for you to sign it."
Zamor blinked, his composed mask briefly faltering as he realized the depth of the commitment being demanded. He caught Justin looking at him—not with anger, but with a sharp, calculating focus. The Chief couldn't help but let out a short, dry laugh.
"Stop the posturing and the laughter," Justin said, his hand coming down firmly on the armrest. The sudden sound echoed, causing Zamor to tighten his jaw. "We both know exactly what this is."
Zamor simpered. "I'm impressed. To think you'd draft a formal contract so quickly, ensuring that anything happening to your master makes me, the Chief, personally responsible for any incident. Tell me, why do you think I would mean your boss any harm?"
Justin folded his arms and crossed his legs, the picture of frozen patience. "I don't want to make this long. I want to end this meeting as quickly as possible."
Zamor's eyes sharpened. He clasped his hands over his knee. "I'm sorry for delaying your duties, but you haven't answered my question."
Justin leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "Enough of the games. Tell me: who is after your life?"
The question hit like a physical weight. Zamor leaned back into his headrest, his eyes wide. "I'm afraid there's a misunderstanding. No one is attempting to hurt me."
The denial was immediate, but Justin didn't blink. "The boss accepted your request because he knew you were in a desperate position. Do you think Master Aljen would risk his safety just for a simple favor? No, you're wrong."
Zamor tilted his head. "Then why do you think he accepted it?"
Justin looked at him with a gaze that suggested the answer was obvious. "It's simple. He's a man of his word. You already knew that. But as far as I can tell, you view someone like him as a convenient scapegoat for your crime."
Zamor chuckled at the word. "Crime? I think that's a bit of an exaggeration for a request like mine."
"Yes, a crime," Justin countered bluntly. "I don't know what you've done in this village yet, but I will find out."
Zamor's hands tightened together. He took a slow, deep breath. "Mr. Justin, take it easy. You don't know what might happen if you stick your nose too far into these matters."
"So, I'm right?"
Zamor sighed, the sound weary. "Let's pretend we didn't talk about that. Let's skip it, please. I'm begging you."
Justin watched him, his mind moving through the possibilities. 'I see... he's under some kind of contract or magical binding as well,' he thought. He saw the fear behind the Chief's eyes—not a fear of Justin, but a fear of the truth getting out.
"Why are you afraid? Actually, don't answer that," Justin said. "I will accept the current arrangement on one condition."
Zamor's expression turned somber. "I guess you finally noticed. I'll give you a hint: no one other than a high-ranker can make me talk about the specifics. That's all I can give. Now, what is your condition?"
Justin understood. There was a threshold of power involved. He slid a second folder across the table.
"I want you to tell everything to my boss. I understand there are things you cannot reveal to just anyone—that it's for the sake of your family," Justin said, his voice low and steady.
Zamor looked at the folder, then back at Justin. "What? He's an ordinary man. Unless... he's more than just a merchant from a small country."
Justin simply nodded, confirming the Chief's growing suspicion without uttering a word.
"Good grief. You're a cunning man, Sir Justin. No wonder your master has never replaced you," Zamor said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I have no other choice. I, Zamor Camelia, head of the Camelia household, swear this: I will tell everything to Aljen the merchant once my children return home safely. I swear to Gaia, goddess of Neue Fiona, that I am liable and claim full responsibility for any accident occurring during his quest."
Justin allowed a small, cold smile. "That settles it, then. Now, let's rephrase the question. Who is after the children's lives?"
Zamor shook his head, his eyes clouding. "I don't know yet."
"You don't know? Pathetic," Justin remarked.
Zamor hung his head. "I'm sorry."
"What a shame. Why did you ask my master instead of your own associates?" Justin queried.
"Very simple. I lost my trust," Zamor answered honestly. "I don't know who I should trust anymore."
"We are strangers. Why us?"
Zamor scratched his cheek. "Because you guys are new. I know that strangers will do their own thing and stay out of the local politics behind the scenes."
"Fair enough. But I remember you have a henchman named Uber," Justin said, his tone bordering on sarcastic. "Where is your friend?"
"He's in the village hall right now."
"And why do you think he's untrustworthy for this task?"
Zamor looked away. "I don't know. It's complicated. To me, he's always been friendly and approachable—we've known each other since childhood. But for the past few years, his actions have become dubious. I don't want to mark him as a suspect yet, but I simply couldn't put my children under his protection."
Justin simpered, his tone sharpening with a touch of sarcasm. "Indeed. The Second Root is a dangerous organization, and there is no doubt they have operatives working within your ranks. Sometimes the person closest to you is the one who will stab you in the back. It is the most agonizing part of maintaining a territory—or a family."
The Chief nodded solemnly. "Indeed."
"Is your secretary trustworthy?" The butler's hands tightened as he asked. He was referring to Ilona, the sharp-eyed receptionist and secretary of the village hall.
Zamor took a long moment to respond, his gaze drifting toward the window. Finally, he offered a single, non-committal word: "Maybe."
"Maybe? You need to take this seriously, Zamor," Justin scolded, his patience wearing thin. "We don't know who the enemies are, and it's becoming clear that your administration has been riddled with holes from the start."
Instead of taking offense, the Chief simply laughed it off. "I'm sorry. I can't help it," he explained, his tone remaining quiet.
A vein throbbed in Justin's forehead. He felt the urge to snap at the man's nonchalance, but he remembered his master's order to cooperate. He pressed a hand to his forehead and exhaled a heavy, disappointed sigh. "Whatever. Forget it. I have to go now; it's almost time."
As Justin turned to leave, the Chief called out, "Wait. Are you sure we should stop here?"
"Yes." Justin nodded firmly. "My master has plenty of enemies, and I must be at his side. Not to mention, a potential candidate for my master's heart requires my... logistical support."
Zamor giggled. "And who might that be?"
"The Priestess," Justin answered flatly.
Zamor's jaw dropped, and he let out a startled chuckle. "Wait, what?"
"It's complicated," Justin continued, checking his pocket watch. "Right now, they are navigating the forest together."
The Chief blinked, stunned by the revelation. Justin explained that the Priestess had eavesdropped on the conversation at the chapel and decided to join the "escort mission" without official approval. The Chief found himself impressed by her aggression; had he known she was so determined to pursue her crush, he would have gladly assisted her love life himself.
Justin offered a final, stiff bow and exited, leaving Zamor alone with his thoughts.
….
"Hello, Ylla," a familiar voice called out.
Ylla, the regent of the church, turned her gaze toward the newcomer and offered a polite smile. "Hi, sis. Good morning."
The woman she addressed was Daliah, the representative of the Third District and the popular waitress from the Emorial Inn. Her blue eyes were partially hidden by brown bangs, framing a face that was strikingly beautiful. She wore a white Victorian guild waitress uniform, featuring the goddess's logo on the left side. Her skin was smooth and silky, and despite her delicate appearance, she was a third-grade wind mage, more than capable of handling herself.
"Good morning," Daliah replied. "I just saw the Chief meeting with Mr. Aljen's butler. Do you have any idea what that was about?" She tilted her head curiously.
Ylla scratched her cheek. "Eh... they might be talking about business or something of that nature."
"Oh, now that I think about it," Daliah clasped her hands together. "Mr. Aljen asked me to oversee the dismantling of the facilities formerly held by the Handdog gang. I hope the meeting was related to that."
"What facilities?" Ylla asked, her interest piqued.
"The former hideouts of the gang we recently defeated," Daliah explained. "Since the remnants of the gang have vanished, he must be planning to establish an office in my district. Still, I'm wary of their lingering presence, and I'm not sure if that man should be fully trusted. Well, never mind. I'm likely being silly."
"So," Ylla shifted the topic, "what business brings you here today, Sis Daliah?"
Daliah's smile remained, though her tone became a bit more serious. "I've come to pick up the children who were caught in the act of thieving."
"Oh, those thieves?" Ylla's eyes crinkled with distaste.
"Ylla, that is a very unkind statement for a regent," Daliah scolded gently. "Consider that they likely committed those crimes due to a lack of education and awareness. We should be the ones to help them and teach them how to live normally. Be considerate, little Ylla."
Ylla pouted. "The Church helps those in need, not those who dare to steal from the Goddess. Such misdeeds shouldn't be tolerated, regardless of age."
Daliah sighed, looking torn. "Well, I don't know if I should agree or—"
"Hmph. You don't have to worry about it," Ylla interrupted. Her eyes suddenly filled with disgust as she spotted a familiar face entering the church. What the heck is this guy doing here?
A large man approached the two ladies. This was Rafel Uno, a third-grade fire mage. His hair and eyes were a vibrant, flaming red, and his intimidating, muscular build was accentuated by his red merchant's attire, held together by golden cords.
He let out a boisterous chuckle as he overheard Daliah's comments. "For real? You really are an embodiment of sin, aren't you?"
Ylla stepped forward, eyes flashing. "Huh?"
"Huh?" Rafel countered, his expression matching her disdain.
Daliah, sensing the rising heat, quickly stepped between them, pushing them apart. "G-g-guys! Calm down!"
Ylla clicked her tongue. "I don't know why you're here, Rafel, but shut your mouth."
Veins popped on Rafel's forehead, but he forced a laugh. "Read my lips, woman. I'm not here for your jokes. I'm here for a reason."
"Calm down, people! We are in the church!" Daliah pleaded.
The two aggressors halted, clicking their tongues in unison. They both looked disappointed at the reminder of their location.
'You're lucky we're on holy ground, woman,' Rafel thought, his eyes smoldering. 'You'd be toasted otherwise.'
Ylla matched his gaze with equal ferocity. 'Imbecile. Be grateful I'm the regent here, or I'd have you busted out of this place in seconds.'
Static tension sparked between them as they continued to exchange glares.
"Right, Sis Daliah is right. You need to leave now," Ylla said, her lips curling into a fake, sugary smile. She waved her hands dismissively. "Shoo, shoo! Out you go."
Rafel held his temper in check, matching her with an equally forced grin. "Like I said, woman—I'm here for a reason."
"Oh, really?" Ylla tilted her head to the side. "And what reason would that be?"
"I've come to speak with the Chief."
"The Chief is busy. So, zip it."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rafel snapped, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "This is a critical case that needs his immediate attention. This isn't some dumbass joke; this is a serious problem."
Ylla paused, noting the genuine urgency in his eyes. "Okay, relax. Geez. He's on the second floor of the west wing. If you're so determined to make me feel guilty, then fine—I'll guide you personally."
"Good grief. Lead the way."
As they began to walk, Daliah spoke up. "Ylla, about the topic I wanted to ask..."
"Ah, right. Sis, the children are in the eastern wing, in the usual spot," Ylla replied, her tone softening. "As you know, we've lost quite a few of them over the past few years. I don't want to repeat the same mistake."
"Of course. I'll ask the village militia to escort us for safety," Daliah said.
Rafel frowned, his heavy boots echoing in the hall. "What's going on? Are you telling me orphans from this church have gone missing?"
"Zip it, Rafel. It's not a big deal," Ylla lied smoothly. "Children nowadays are stubborn. They think they can handle the world like adults."
Daliah stopped in her tracks, looking at Ylla with a stern expression. "What are you saying, Ylla? That is a grave issue. It's unbecoming for a regent of this church to speak so lightly of it."
Ylla looked down, chastened. "I... I'm sorry. I stand corrected."
"Hey, woman," Rafel interjected, his expression darkening. "That's a major revelation. The case I want to discuss with the Chief is actually connected to what you just said."
"What do you mean, Rafel?" Ylla asked.
"The thing is... never mind. It's too dangerous to discuss this in an open area," Rafel muttered, glancing at the shadows in the corridor.
"Alright, I understand. Sis Daliah, please take good care of the girls for me."
"Roger, little Ylla."
"C'mon, I'm not that short!" Ylla pouted, earning a giggle from the waitress as they parted ways.
.....
Deep within the Dark Scily Forest, the atmosphere was far more educational. The twins were teaching Hermes how to identify rare herbs at a single glance.
They pointed out the Red Herb, a potent medicinal plant used to increase mana capacity and improve memory; it was often ground into coffee beans to prevent exhaustion. Then there was the Blue Herb, which stabilized body temperature and slowed the progression of illnesses. Finally, they showed him the Green Herb, the core ingredient for health potions, known for pain relief and boosting the body's natural antibodies.
The children explained that while many varieties remained undiscovered in the deeper parts of the woods, the Camelia family's exploration had been halted for centuries due to the aggressive monsters lurking in the jungle.
"To be honest," Hermes said, his voice quiet as he watched the kids work. "Why are you risking your lives for this? You're young and have bright futures. Why continue a job this dangerous?"
Troy sighed, looking older than his years. "Like we told you, brother. We want to bring honor back to our family."
"Yes," July seconded. "For the family, we must."
Hermes watched them, impressed by their determination. They had the bodies of children, but their minds had clearly been tempered by their lineage's struggle.
"But last time, you almost died," Hermes reminded them. "You were nearly eaten by a Demon Wolf."
The twins fell into a somber silence, sulking at the memory of their helplessness. Venus, who had been listening intently, giggled at the kids' reaction before the weight of his words hit her. She moved closer, her brow furrowing.
"Wait... a Demon Wolf attacked the children?" she asked.
Hermes nodded. "Yes, Venus. They were saved by my butler just in time. If we hadn't been there, they wouldn't be standing here."
Venus tilted her head, a look of genuine confusion crossing her face. "Pardon me, but... that's a bit hard to believe. May I ask exactly where you encountered the beast?"
"Outside the forest," Hermes answered. "What's wrong?"
"Eeeh?" Venus gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "I'm sorry if this upsets you, but a Demon Wolf cannot survive outside the forest. They die almost instantly once they step beyond their life boundary."
Hermes's eyes turned sharp. "What do you mean they won't survive? I watched my butler kill one. It was very much alive until it met its end."
"The Demon Wolf is a guardian monster," Venus explained. "Their souls are tethered to the Great Dark Tree in the center of this forest. They are dangerous, yes, but they aren't powerful enough to break that tether. They are restricted to this specific domain."
Hermes felt a chill. "Are you saying the beast we fought wasn't allowed to step outside?"
"Exactly," Venus confirmed. "They have restrictions. They cannot leave the protected area of the Great Dark Tree. Look around—have you seen a single one lurking here? No. Because they stay where they belong. Your story... it's very confusing."
Hermes's mind began to race. In the game's programming, monsters had specific "aggro" zones and spawn points. They weren't supposed to wander into town or outside their designated maps unless a specific event triggered it.
"Kids," Hermes asked, his voice low. "Did you do something to provoke the beast? Did you take something from the forest?"
The twins shook their heads vigorously. "No, brother. July wouldn't hurt an animal," the girl cried.
"I'm not a fighter, brother. I wouldn't dream of attacking a monster," Troy added, sulking again.
"Then why did it attack you?" Hermes muttered, the "bad omen" from earlier returning with a vengeance. "If it wasn't supposed to be there, and you didn't provoke it... someone must have brought it there."
The twins looked at each other and then back at Hermes, their voices small and unified. "We don't know."
The High Priestess reevaluated the situation, her expression shifting to one of focused logic. "Sir Aljen, this type of monster will only harm those who approach the restricted area; they will never venture beyond the borders of their protected realm of their own volition."
"Then why did the beast attack them outside the forest?" Hermes queried, his mind already racing through the implications.
Venus offered a grim theory. "There is only one way that could happen."
"How? What do you mean?"
"A tamer," she answered simply.
Hermes recoiled slightly in surprise. "A... a tamer?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "A professional capable of binding a creature's will and forcing it across its natural boundaries."
Hermes looked toward the children, his brow furrowed. "Who would want to hurt the children of a Village Chief?"
As he stepped closer to Venus to speak in confidence, her face gradually turned a deep shade of crimson. Mambo, sensing the tension, intervened. "Sir Aljen, the Master doesn't need to spell it out for you. You already know the answer. The Chief has an enemy. Am I right?"
The hypothesis was undeniably convincing. "Maybe," Hermes muttered. "But that is just an assumption for now."
"Do you think it's weird?" Venus asked, finally finding her voice.
"Yes, it's incredibly weird. Is there a reason for an enemy to go this far? Wait... that's right. There is," Hermes said, tapping his palm as the pieces began to click.
Venus tilted her head. "What is it?"
"I don't know if it's the right answer yet, but let's assume the enemy is someone he did business with," Hermes explained. "He made a deal with a friend or an organization and then crashed it. Perhaps he failed to pay a debt, or he broke a promise. There are a dozen plausible answers, though none are confirmed yet."
Venus nodded. "Indeed. Business and blood often mix poorly."
"Kids," Hermes called out, his tone softening. "May we excuse ourselves for a minute? Please continue your tasks; we have something to discuss."
Venus turned to her attendant. "Mambo, watch the children."
"Yes, Master," Mambo nodded.
Before they separated, Hermes grabbed Mambo's shoulder, his gaze turning icy. "Don't let your guard down, Mambo. Bear in mind—I will slice your throat if anything bad happens to those children. Capiche?"
"Y-Y-Yes, Sir Aljen!" Mambo stammered, his eyes wide. He quickly turned to the twins to hide his nerves. "C'mon, kids. Let's find more herbs."
Troy saluted sharply. "Copy!"
"Roger!" July added, flashing a determined "guts" pose.
....
Hermes and Venus moved behind the massive trunk of an ancient tree, away from prying ears. "What do you think?" Venus asked, her voice laced with concern.
"To be honest, I'm thinking the same thing you are," Hermes concluded. "The Chief is facing an enemy he doesn't want discovered. I don't get it—he wanted me to protect the kids without telling me the truth. What's the big deal?"
"He might be trying to limit the number of people he can trust," Venus assumed.
"Limit?" Hermes let out a dry, frustrated sigh. "It feels more like I've been used for his own agenda."
Venus shook her head. "I beg to differ. The Chief isn't that kind of person. In my opinion, he must be desperate."
"Desperate for what?" Hermes raised his eyebrows.
"It's complicated to explain," she said briefly. "But from my perspective, he is desperate to solve a problem he cannot speak of. He wants to open up to others, but he's paralyzed by fear."
"How could you say that?" Hermes moved closer, his gaze searching hers. "You've only known the man for a short time."
"By the guidance of the God of Fate, I put my trust in him," she affirmed confidently. "He helped me understand the depth of his agony."
Hermes heaved a sigh. "I don't fully understand your 'divine guidance,' but that isn't the point of the case."
Venus sighed back, looking at him with soft eyes. "Sir Aljen, human beings are rational, yet flawed. Sometimes, people are secretive because they are overprotective."
"Meaning?"
"He's a father as much as he is a Chief," she pointed out. "The lives of his children are being used as leverage."
"Ah, I see. So, he's being threatened," Hermes presumed.
"Exactly." She concurred, then shifted gears. "Anyway, when did you first meet the twins?"
"A couple of days ago. Last Monday, I think? It's all a bit of a blur," the young Don replied.
"Hmm... this might be connected to my capture," she murmured.
Hermes saw her face turn deadly serious as she contemplated the timeline. He caught the thread of her thought immediately. "What's the connection?"
"I believe there is one," she replied. "But perhaps I'm wrong to try and link them."
"You were captured four days ago. That feels like a different story," Hermes assured her, trying to keep her from spiraling into unnecessary worry.
Venus looked slightly disappointed. "How boring. I thought I could connect the dots."
"You still want to know who took you, don't you?" Hermes coaxed.
"Yes," she confirmed, "but never mind. I'm sorry, Sir Aljen. I'm just adding complicated 'stuff' to your quest."
"Nah, it's fine," he reassured her.
Her face glimmered with renewed energy, and she leaned in close to his face, a teasing glint in her eyes. "So, what do you think? Did I help you at all?"
Despite her proximity, Hermes remained a stone wall of professional distance. "A little. But thanks. You gave me a starting point."
Venus pouted at his lack of reaction. "I'm glad to hear that," she said with a hint of a huff.
"Anyway, it's almost a quarter to twelve," Hermes noted, checking the light. "Should we take a break?"
"Oh!" Venus clasped her hands together. "We should have a picnic in that clearing over there!"
"Venus, this isn't a picnic," Hermes reminded her sternly.
She pouted again, and her innocent, stubborn beauty made Hermes realize that arguing was a lost cause. He noticed the bandages on four of her fingers—likely from her clumsy attempts at preparing food—and realized it would be cruel to deny her the chance to share what she had made. He didn't want to ruin his reputation with the Church by being a heartless brute, either.
"Whatever," he sighed, defeated. "Where do you want to set it up?"
"There!" she chirped, pointing to a sunny patch of grass. "Go call the kids for me!"
"Now, I wonder who exactly is the leader of this group," Hermes sighed, watching Venus skip toward the clearing. His authority seemed to vanish the moment she set her sights on a "family" activity.
He gathered the children and Mambo, following the light footsteps of the Priestess through the thicket. When they broke through the final line of trees, they were greeted by a sight that felt entirely out of place in the dangerous Dark Scily Forest.
"Welcome!" Venus chirped.
She had laid out a large blue blanket over a flat, grassy patch right next to the gently flowing river. The sunlight danced off the water's surface, and the soft rush of the stream provided a peaceful soundtrack to the afternoon. Venus sat with impeccable poise, her legs tucked to the side in a lady-like manner, smoothing out her skirt as she invited them to join.
"Wow! A picnic!" Troy shouted, his eyes wide.
The twins practically threw their heavy herb baskets off their backs and sprinted toward her. "Yehey!"
"Kids, wait! Did you forget something?" Venus called out, her voice taking on a gentle, motherly sternness. "You must wash your hands before you touch the food."
"Yes, big sis!" they shouted in unison. They pivoted and ran to the riverbank, splashing their hands in the cool water before racing back to the blanket.
"Here are your muffins," she said, handing each of them a golden-brown pastry.
"Thank you!"
"Please, sit down and get comfortable."
"Roger!" Troy exclaimed, plopping down onto the blanket.
Their genuine smiles were enough to make anyone feel a flicker of warmth. Watching them, it was clear that no one could resist the pure, unadulterated joy of children—unless, of course, they had lost every shred of their humanity.
Mambo reached into his chest pocket, pulling out a small, magical leather pouch. "Master, should I prepare the—"
"No! Hold it right there," Venus demanded, her eyes flashing with sudden pride. "Put that back in your pocket. Today, we will only eat the food that I prepared personally."
She beckoned him over and handed him a portion as well. "Sit, Mambo. You've worked hard."
"Yes, Master," Mambo replied, obediently tucking his high-grade rations back into his pocket. "Thank you for the muffin."
Hermes sat down opposite the Priestess, the blue fabric of the blanket between them. For a moment, their glances locked—his, weary and analytical; hers, bright and expectant.
"This is for you," she offered, her bandaged fingers carefully holding out a fresh muffin and a steaming cup of herbal tea.
Hermes took them, feeling the warmth through the ceramic cup. "Thank you," he said, lowering his head slightly. It was a rare moment of genuine appreciation from the young Don.
Venus beamed, her effort finally validated. She spent the next few minutes meticulously arranging the remaining food and cups, ensuring everyone was served. As the children laughed and ate, the looming threat of the tamer and the mystery of the Demon Wolf felt miles away. For a brief window of time, under the canopy of the ancient trees, they were just a family enjoying the afternoon.