"Oh? No matter how you look at it, Will o' Wisp is one of the most established communities in the North District, isn't it?" Ren said lightly. "Even the Floor Master would give you face.
And yet now you're asking Ghost Travel—a community that hasn't even been around that long—for help?"
Compared to Ghost Travel, Will o' Wisp was undeniably a veteran organization. Even if most of its mbers were children with little combat ability, its history and foundation were anything but shallow.
Pumpkin Jack let out his theatrical laugh again.
"Hohohohoho! Mr. Ren, you underestimate yourself. It's true Ghost Travel hasn't existed for long.
But in every Gift Ga you've participated in, you've achieved results that defy imagination. Even if you're currently listed as a lower-tier, six-digit community, if not for your status as a Demon King–affiliated group, you would have risen to the middle or even upper tiers by now. That's only a matter of ti."
He lifted his lantern slightly, the jagged grin carved into his pumpkin head flickering with faint flas.
"And the reason we stopped you today truly is an important matter. In fact, it was only because we heard Ghost Travel intended to travel to the South District that this idea occurred to us.
"The issue concerns our leader—Vera. If possible, we hope Mr. Ren would allow her to travel together with your group."
Jack's tone was unusually serious. No exaggerated gestures. No playful theatrics. It sounded less like a request and more like entrusting sothing precious.
Ren blinked.
"Wait. You're telling the leader of Will o' Wisp wants to travel with us?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're not trying to split the Gate fees, are you?"
Even Jack, who thrived on jokes, looked montarily speechless.
Before Ren could continue down that line of suspicion, Jack shot Aisha a aningful glance. She imdiately stepped forward and produced a heavy pouch filled with Double-Goddess gold coins.
"We'll cover the entire Gate cost for Ghost Travel this ti," she said firmly.
The pouch was placed in front of Ren.
Judging by its weight alone, it contained a staggering sum—possibly more than Ghost Travel could produce at this mont.
Ren didn't reach for it.
If anything, the size of the offer made him more cautious.
Vera wasn't weak.
Far from it.
Cute? Yes. Airheaded? Maybe.
But if she fought seriously, Ren was confident that within Ghost Travel, only he and Alger could match her. The rest would struggle.
If soone of her caliber needed help—
Then whatever problem they were dealing with was no minor nuisance.
"Mr. Ren," Jack continued, voice steady, "I believe you've already encountered a certain four-digit Demon King… a man nad Maxwell?"
The mont that na was spoken, Ren's mind flashed back.
The man who had blocked a fatal strike for one of the Princes.
The one who simply would not die, no matter how many tis he was cut down.
And at the exact mont Jack said "Maxwell," the expressionless mask Vera had maintained until now cracked.
Her face twisted in visible disgust.
Her body trembled.
"As you can see," Jack said quietly, "our leader harbors deep fear and revulsion toward that Demon King.
"The reason is simple. Maxwell has been obsessed with Vera for a very, very long ti.
"Even after she fled to Little Garden, he endured centuries in the outside world before eventually tracking her here."
Ren's brow twitched.
Centuries?
Jack continued grimly.
"Our leader has rejected him countless tis. Clearly. Directly. With open disgust.
"Yet Maxwell insists on interpreting it as shyness… or playful resistance."
Aisha's face darkened.
"And you've fought him before," she added. "You know how troubleso his abilities are. We've considered eliminating him entirely. But even Vera-onee-sama's Azure Flas—flas that exist on the boundary between life and death—cannot kill him."
Jack nodded.
"Besides his immortality, Maxwell possesses extrely troubleso spatial transfer abilities. No matter how far we flee, he tracks Vera like a hunting hound and appears instantly to resu his… relentless courtship."
"Yeah! He's completely unhinged!" Aisha burst out. "There was even a ti when he suddenly appeared while Vera-onee-sama was in the bathroom—or bathing!"
Ren choked.
"…What?"
"I was in the bath with her that ti!" Aisha continued angrily. "He just appeared out of nowhere! He scared Vera-onee-sama half to death—and he saw everything!"
Before she could elaborate further—
Thwack.
Vera's hand descended in a sharp chop on Aisha's head.
The silver-blue twin tails swayed slightly as she resud her blank expression, as if nothing had happened.
Despite Maxwell's constant harassnt, however, there was one twisted detail—
He had never actually hard Vera.
Not once.
In his delusional mind, Vera loved him too.
She was simply "being stubborn."
After hearing the full explanation, Ren finally understood.
Maxwell wasn't just persistent.
He was the ultimate obsessive.
The kind of love that crossed into pathology.
Chasing her across worlds.
Chasing her across centuries.
Chasing her into Little Garden itself.
And suddenly, another piece fell into place.
During the Fire Dragon Birth Festival, despite the chaos that shook the entire North District, the so-called "strongest of the North," Vera, had never appeared.
Now Ren understood why.
She hadn't been absent out of indifference.
She had been hiding.
From Maxwell.
Jack's voice grew solemn.
"Mr. Ren is, to our knowledge, the first person to truly make Maxwell suffer a setback.
"This ti, as we travel to the South District, I wish to entrust Vera to your community.
"Aisha and I must attend the Harvest Festival. Our original plan was to leave Vera in the North District. With Ghost Travel stationed there, Maxwell might have exercised caution.
"But since you are also heading south… we hope you will allow Vera to remain by your side during this ti.
"As for the gold, consider it compensation.
"And if Mr. Ren can permanently resolve the Maxwell problem for Will o' Wisp… our community will repay you generously."
Ren exhaled slowly.
So that was it.
They wanted bodyguards.
Or more precisely—
They wanted Maxwell to finally understand reality.
Ren scratched the back of his head.
Bodyguard duty? That was one thing.
But killing Maxwell?
Ren could only think one thing.
That would not be simple.
Not even close.
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