The man’s bravado crumbled in an instant.
"H-heh. That was a joke, you know that, right?"
"Your jokes aren’t funny."
"Ahaha, I’ll make sure to practice for next ti."
"What makes you think there will be a next ti?"
Cruello lightly dragged his dagger across the desk, playing along with the threatening atmosphere.
The man’s pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck his very soul.
"W-wait, why wouldn’t there be a next ti? Co on, let’s not do this. I know a lot of things, okay? So, how about putting that knife away first—"
Finally, he was acting like a proper hostage.
He seed to be of a higher rank, aning he could be useful in various ways, but for now, I had more imdiate concerns.
"Take to where my comrade is."
The underground prison where the secret investigator was being held was located below the main compound.
Dylan—the cultist’s na—made loud noises as we walked, probably hoping other cult mbers would co to his aid. But Cruello’s magic twisted any signal for help into nothing more than self-indulgent noise.
It probably also helped that I had my dagger pressed against his back.
Finally realizing his position, Dylan shut his mouth and beca noticeably more cooperative.
After descending the long flight of stairs, we reached the bottom, where a single person was chained to the wall.
His arms were spread wide by the iron shackles, and his body hung limp.
There were no signs of torture, but judging by his injuries, he had been hurt in a fight.
"At least he’s still breathing."
I gave Cruello a quick glance, and he wordlessly knocked Dylan unconscious, stuffing him into a corner.
We used the keys we had taken from the office to unlock the cell and stepped inside.
Just as I was about to check the investigator’s condition—
Sothing fell from his tattered clothes.
A pale-colored coin pouch.
Gold coins spilled out in a bright cascade.
I stared at the scene as if hypnotized.
"……."
Ah.
When I snapped out of it, I found myself locking eyes with Cruello.
His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was… odd.
I instinctively tried to explain myself.
"Ah, I was just looking!"
"Hmm."
"I an, obviously, I wasn’t staring because I wanted it or anything—"
"Ughh…"
Right at that mont, the secret investigator groaned.
Of all the tis to wake up.
Annoying, but I couldn’t exactly scold him for it.
I let out a slow breath and looked at him.
"Where… am I…?"
The man blinked a few tis before taking in his surroundings.
Then, gritting his teeth hard enough to make a noise, he glared at us.
"Kill , cult scum. Even if you keep alive, you won’t get anything from !"
Hmm.
Dylan had said sothing similar earlier, but the difference in tone was stark.
"You say that, but I could take your money."
Just so we’re clear, I didn’t say that—Cruello did.
"Money…?"
"Alright, let’s clear this up first. We’re not your enemies."
"Bullshit! You think I’d believe that when you’re wearing those filthy robes?"
"You’re wearing the sa filthy robes."
He was also dressed in black priestly robes—clearly a disguise, just like ours.
Yet he was acting as if we weren’t in the sa situation.
His glare sharpened.
Then, suddenly, he spat at my face.
It missed.
I had already stepped back, and Cruello blocked it with his sleeve.
"Ugh, my ears are rotting just hearing this. No matter how you try to deceive , it won’t work. Just kill ."
He enunciated each syllable with venom before shutting his eyes.
Huh.
First ti I’ve almost been spit on.
That was slightly irritating.
Now that I was looking at him again, his open pockets suddenly seed worth searching.
I hadn’t even gone through them properly yet.
Well, if he was ready to die, he wouldn’t mind, right?
"W-what are you doing?!"
"You told to kill you. I’m just collecting your belongings first."
"Ha!"
I emptied his pockets.
Not much inside.
The sa coin pouch from earlier, a cult insignia…
And a smaller token—made of white jade, engraved with a sun symbol.
"This must be proof that he’s with the secret investigation unit."
The investigator snapped his eyes open and glared fiercely.
The sound of his teeth grinding was chilling.
Man, those are permanent, you know? What a waste.
"That alone won’t tell you anything."
"There’s a note in his inner pocket."
"Oh, I almost missed that. Hm? There’s nothing written on it."
"The secret investigation unit uses lemon juice to encode their ssages."
Cruello conjured a small fla in midair.
I held the paper up to the heat, and slowly, words began to appear.
Now I could read it.
But…
"Winter. The lowest place. Aristata."
What the hell is this nonsense?
Did they really have to encrypt it twice?
"Pfft, did you actually think you’d figure sothing out?"
The investigator, despite his weakened state, managed to mock between heavy breaths.
Well.
At this point, we’d done everything expected of a villain, so it was about ti to switch roles.
I casually checked my disguise, making sure nothing was out of place, then clapped my hands to get his attention.
At the sa ti, I focused my energy into my fingertips.
Guess what this is.
The investigator’s eyes widened to the point of tearing.
"T-that’s—!"
Right.
There was no better identification in a cult of necromancers than holy power.
His tone shifted imdiately.
"You… you’re from the temple?"
"Close enough."
"But how did the temple find out…?"
"We got a report. We also received these robes and the insignia."
"I see… So the temple received a report as well. We were also acting based on an anonymous tip."
So Nigellia had planted seeds on that side too.
She must have really wanted to dismantle this cult.
Once the investigator confird that we were allies, his eyes softened quickly.
At the sa ti, a firm resolve flickered within them.
"I apologize for the misunderstanding. But I must ask a favor of you both."
"You want healing?"
"No. Using holy power here is too dangerous. No matter how careful you are, soone will notice."
Unless I started throwing around high-tier spells, it should be fine…
"I don’t care if I die. But please, deliver my robe to my direct superior."
Why?
I stared at him curiously, and Cruello—without hesitation—removed the man’s outer garnt.
It almost felt like having a personal aide, which was unexpectedly pleasant.
"I wrote down information about the cult inside. It’s written in a special solution, so it won’t be visible right now."
"Lemon juice?"
"No, that’s only used for eting locations."
Ooh, this was getting interesting.
If he was this desperate to deliver it, it had to contain important information about the cult.
If I helped him, I might get to hear it too.
"Who is this superior?"
"I don’t know. The identities of unit mbers are highly classified, only the commander knows."
"So how do I deliver it if you don’t know who they are?"
"The eting is in ten days. If you go to the location on the note, my superior will be there. The place is…"
And right at the most crucial mont, his voice cut off.
His body slumped forward.
He didn’t hit the floor since he was still chained, but still…
"Uh, hello?"
"……."
"Excuse ? I didn’t get the location yet? Hey? Wake up? This isn’t my problem, so why am I the one upset?"
I shook him, but he didn’t wake up.
What the hell? Why does this feel like I’m the one losing out? Should I just hit him?
I clenched my fist.
Just as I was about to swing, Cruello spoke.
"He’s under a prohibition spell."
"Huh?"
"It’s a magic spell placed on secret investigators. He must have forgotten about it, and when he tried to reveal the eting location, it activated and knocked him out."
Wait, so we were never ant to hear that?
Then what the hell was I supposed to do?
A date and an unreadable note weren’t enough to find the eting spot.
And if Cruello was right, even if the investigator woke up, he wouldn’t be able to tell us.
"Keeping him alive is our only option. That way, we can at least eavesdrop when he goes to the eting. Can we take him out of here?"
"If we rip the chains out of the prison wall, yes."
"Oh!"
"But doing that will trigger an explosion."
"…Can I use my ring?"
"Yes. If you rip out the chains."
"……."
The classic chicken or the egg dilemma.
Everything was tangled up in the worst way.
I sighed.
"That ans we can’t deal with this right now. We’ll have to improvise."
"Do you have a plan?"
"Yeah. That thing crawling over there."
I pointed toward a rustling noise.
It was Dylan—dragging himself across the floor in an attempt to escape.
When did he wake up? He was still tightly bound, yet he was managing to inch away.
"I-I wasn’t trying to run! I swear—AHH!"
Cruello flicked his fingers, and Dylan was yanked off the ground, flying straight toward us before slamming down at our feet.
Magic was amazing.
At this point, I was seriously considering converting to magicism… Ah, just kidding.
You heard that, right, Pebula?
"I-I heard nothing! I swear, I know nothing about temples or robes or anything!"
"You’re going to be responsible for watching over him."
"W-wait, what?"
"Will that be alright?" Cruello asked.
"He seems to be a high-ranking mber. Besides…"
I trailed off, glancing around.
The prison looked sturdy, but sothing was missing.
"There are no guards. No one’s watching this place. They didn’t even bother confiscating his belongings. That ans they never intended to interrogate him properly. Right?"
Dylan’s eyes darted around nervously.
"W-well… This isn’t the first investigator to show up. We’ve had so many crawl in here that we just starve them to death and clean up the corpses later."
"Then keeping him alive shouldn’t be that hard."
Dylan’s eyes rolled in their sockets.
"Can we trust this rat? Wouldn’t it be better to kill him and just leave so food here instead?"
"P-please trust ! I won’t disappoint you!"
"It’s fine. Trust is sothing you create."
Cruello tilted his head curiously, but I didn’t bother explaining further.
Instead, I crouched in front of Dylan, who was still squirming on the ground like a worm.
I focused my power.
—Fifth Spell. Pledge.
A circle of pure white chains rose around .
Dylan shrank back, trembling.
"Repeat after ."
"R-repeat after ."
"…Not that part."
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