The atmosphere in Count Seiryuu's manor was heavy despite the stillness of the morning. Roswal Seiryuu, a middle-aged man with an unkempt goatee, was reclining in his chair, one hand on his chin and the other absently running along the rim of a goblet he hadn't sipped from. Though his position as the city's lord commanded respect, his demeanor was far more relaxed than one might expect from a noble of his rank.
"The Yamato Stone marked him as level fifteen," he finally said without lifting his gaze. "It's absurd."
"Completely," replied Ortes, his consul—a man in a plain, formal suit with a thin face—standing by the window. "No one at that level could face a high-class demon, much less defeat one."
"Has anything else been found out about him?" Roswal asked, finally pulling his eyes from the cup. "Anything concrete?"
"Nothing," Ortes replied with a slight shake of his head. "No records, no rumors. No merchant, guide, or adventurer seems to know him. And so far, none of our contacts in Shiiga have reported recognizing him. It's as if he appeared out of nowhere."
Roswal sighed, settling more comfortably into his chair.
"And what about what he said? The warning he gave after the fight?"
"According to the report, it was he who suggested we examine the site. Our mages are already investigating it. It's a magical matrix, spanning a wide area of the affected terrain. It doesn't seem to pose an immediate danger, but the priests confirmed its origin is demonic."
Roswal let out a sharp breath. He picked up the goblet but still didn't drink.
"A low-class demon manages to infiltrate without being detected, then summons another of high-class—and instead of destroying the city… they're eliminated by a man of unknown origin."
Ortes stayed silent, unmoving.
Then a calm, feminine voice broke the tension.
"His origin doesn't matter," said a young woman as she entered the room with measured steps. "In the temple, that does not determine a man's worth."
The young woman, named Ohna, wore a crimson robe with clean lines, its design reminiscent of western nuns. Her blonde hair was tied back, and her pale eyes gave her a serene, almost ghostly air. Her presence was subtle yet firm.
She was also the Count's daughter.
Roswal turned his head, his expression softening.
"Look who's here. I was starting to think I wouldn't see you today."
"And I thought I'd find you less tense," she replied with a faint smile. "But I see the city still won't give you rest."
"I woke to the news that my city was nearly brought to ruin by a demon… and perhaps still is," Roswal said, setting the goblet down on the table. "I can't think of a better way to start the day."
Ohna walked until she stood beside Ortes, her posture straight, as a priestess should maintain.
"An enemy of demons should not be treated as our enemy. Whether he's a hero or not is still unclear. But the temple does not fear those who fight against evil."
"He didn't carry a holy sword," Roswal noted.
"A sword doesn't make the hero. Strength is also required. And the will to face threats beyond human capability," Ohna replied.
"So you do believe he is one."
"The temple has received no such oracle," she said, without hesitation.
Roswal closed his eyes for a moment, and this time he did drink.
"I don't plan to turn him into our enemy. Hero or not, someone capable of destroying a high-class demon could just as easily reduce this city to ashes. I'm not foolish enough to provoke that. Besides, being a hero doesn't make one a trustworthy ally— even the Great King Yamato had trouble with the kingdom that summoned him."
The room fell silent. The sound of a curtain swaying in the breeze was the only thing bold enough to fill the air.
Several seconds passed before Ohna, in a measured tone, broke the silence.
"Father… how do you plan to approach him? The temple has also shown interest in contacting him."
Roswal turned his gaze toward Ortes before answering.
"In a few days. First, we must confirm that he has left that demon behind; if not, we'll ask him directly. Besides, I understand there will soon be an open-air play, with a lively atmosphere and food stalls. We could take advantage of the occasion."
"You plan to invite him?" Ohna asked, raising a brow.
"Not personally," Roswal replied. "According to the captain, he was very clear about wanting to keep his identity secret so as not to alert more demons—of which, frankly, I hope there are none left in our city. And if there are… may Pairon cross his path before anyone else's."
The Count raised his cup slightly before setting it back down on the table.
"We'll send an emissary—someone who can speak with him directly without drawing too much attention. We just need answers, so let's prioritize someone who can maintain a neutral stance."
Ohna nodded slowly, understanding the approach. She then joined them at the table, and the conversation continued. They spoke on until nightfall completely wrapped the manor in shadow.
***
Some time had passed since the dolls were given.
Satoru appeared in his room with a faint magical shimmer. The morning was fresh and quiet. He had just returned from Dragon Valley after another day of training—one more in the routine he had established.
Upon leaving, he descended the stairs to the inn's first floor, just as the landlady usually finished preparing breakfast. At the last step, Martha's voice stopped him.
"Good morning, sir!" she said with a bright smile. "A friend came to visit you."
Satoru raised a brow, puzzled. But before he could answer, a familiar voice spoke from one of the tables.
"Forgive me, young girl," said the man, raising a hand gently. "We only met a few days ago. I wouldn't dare call myself his friend… though I wouldn't object if he did."
The man smiled politely. His demeanor was calm and relaxed. He wore simple yet good-quality clothing, and there was an air of serenity about him.
"Good morning. Last time I couldn't introduce myself properly," he added, inclining his head respectfully. "My name is Nebinen."
Satoru narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You… the priest from then," he said, recognizing the face.
It was the same young man from the faith of Garleon who had verbally confronted the priest of Zaicuon and had also been present during the demon incident.
Nebinen nodded.
"That's right. I'm glad you remember."
The priest noticed Martha was still there, lingering. He glanced toward the stairs.
"And the demi-humans?" he asked kindly. "I was told they were lodging with you. In fact, I brought something for them. It's not much, but I thought it might be useful."
"They should still be asleep."
Satoru shifted his gaze to Martha, who caught the signal instantly.
"I'll go get them right now," she said, not waiting for an answer, and walked away briskly, as if she sensed she should give them space for the conversation.
Satoru observed the priest for a few seconds before taking a seat across from him.
"I didn't expect you to come," he said in a neutral tone.
"It wasn't as soon as I would've liked," Nebinen admitted, lowering his voice slightly. "I wanted to thank you in person for what you did… with that matter. I apologize for not coming earlier. The temple's duties multiplied after the incident, and only now have I found a break."
Satoru didn't answer right away. Internally, he knew it was true. For days now, Hans had already reported movement in the city: patrols more frequent than usual, and groups stationed near the site of the incident.
He had also detected people watching the inn—or rather, watching both him and the demi-humans. Not hostile, but persistent.
They were clearly trying to gather information about him, to gauge his attitude and understand his presence.
"I understand," he finally said calmly.
Nebinen nodded, accepting his answer without pressing.
Martha returned a few minutes later, followed by the three demi-humans. Tama and Pochi walked in still sleepy, rubbing their eyes, while Liza kept her usual serene expression, though she was clearly just as freshly woken.
When he saw them, Nebinen rose from his seat and took a couple of steps toward them, smiling warmly.
"It's good to see you," he said.
But as soon as he approached, Tama and Pochi reacted on instinct, hiding behind Liza as if seeking shelter. Their heads peeked out timidly to watch the stranger who had drawn near. Liza didn't move; she stood firm, shifting her gaze between the girls and Nebinen.
Nebinen stopped, surprised by their reaction. Then, realizing his mistake, he took a step back and crouched down, palms open before them, showing he meant no harm.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I only wanted to give you this."
Satoru, who had been watching silently, gave a single nod. It was enough for Liza to gently pat the girls' heads and whisper something barely audible. Slowly, Tama and Pochi emerged from their hiding place.
Nebinen, still crouched, took a light-colored cloth bundle he had set aside.
"It's nothing extravagant," he said. "I wasn't sure what to buy, so I went for a safe choice. There are a few outfits, one for each of you," he added, giving Liza a brief glance. "I also included some cloaks for the cold. I thought they might be useful."
The cloaks could conceal their demi-human traits, making it easier for them to go out without drawing excessive attention.
Tama was the first to step forward and, with an expression still unsure, took the bundle along with Pochi. Upon opening it, both their eyes lit up. They didn't yet know exactly how the clothes looked, but just receiving something clearly excited them. Previously, they might have tried to refuse—but in recent days, they had learned to accept whatever their master, or an acquaintance in this case, offered them.
"Can we put them on now?" Tama asked with a shy smile.
Satoru turned his gaze toward Martha. She understood immediately, letting out a resigned sigh.
"Come on, I'll take you upstairs," she said. Her voice was kind, but her expression was that of someone unhappy to miss whatever might be said in her absence.
The three of them went upstairs together. Only after they disappeared from sight did Nebinen speak again, more relaxed.
"It wasn't much, but I'm glad they liked it."
"It was enough," Satoru replied.
Nebinen sat down again, and for a moment there was brief silence. He was the one to break it.
"Do you have plans for today, Mr. Satoru?"
Satoru looked at him calmly.
"I want to see the play they're putting on today. I'm interested in how they'll interpret it."
"Nothing else?" the priest asked, without malice.
"No. After that, I'll be available for your questions."
Nebinen opened his mouth as if to object, but in the end he simply sighed and gave a resigned smile.
"Thank you for being direct. I suppose it was obvious I didn't come here just out of gratitude."
"There's no merit in pretending with unnecessary courtesies," Satoru replied.
"Then, would you mind if I joined you? Let's call it part of my way of thanking you. I'll cover the expenses."
"Do as you wish," Satoru said without opposition. Normally, refusing at first would have been the better move. But Satoru was already aware that Nebinen's aim was to get something out of him. Refusing what was offered would only have led to back-and-forth insistence.
Besides, Nebinen wasn't offering anything excessively expensive or something that could create a sense of debt. This was just an exchange—a thanks for past help and a down payment for future assistance.
Rejecting it would have branded Satoru as someone willing to help blindly, without seeking any return or merit. That was an image of an exploitable "hero" he wanted to avoid.
Of course, if he had been offered something overly expensive or flashy, Satoru would have refused immediately.
Looking at Nebinen, and seeing that he didn't seem offended by his direct acceptance, Satoru considered he had chosen well. In the end, it was all about balance.
They remained in silence for a few seconds, until the sound of footsteps came down the stairs again.
"Here we are!" Martha announced from the staircase, in her usual lively tone, just as the footsteps approached the main room.
Tama and Pochi appeared first. They wore the new dresses—sky blue and pink—with the hoods up but slightly askew from rushing. Tama beamed proudly, twirling a little so her skirt would swish. Pochi, more timid, walked with her hands clasped in front, but couldn't hide her wide smile. Both looked happy, though their cheeks were still a little flushed with shyness.
"Liza, it's your turn," Martha called, glancing up the stairs.
"…I don't think this is for me," Liza's voice answered from above, doubtful and slightly embarrassed.
"Huh? What are you talking about? Of course it is! Come on, come down." Martha looked at Satoru with a mischievous smile, seeking backup.
Satoru studied her for a second, then raised his chin slightly.
"Come down."
His voice wasn't harsh, but it carried enough firmness that it didn't sound like a suggestion. A moment later, Liza began to descend with steady but measured steps. She wore the outfit Nebinen had chosen for her: a skirt-pants combination in pastel colors, with a cape draped over her shoulders. The attire was practical yet retained a decorative, feminine air.
It was clear they had made an effort to find something that looked nice but wasn't overly girly—likely deduced from her observed behavior.
Liza kept her gaze forward, but her tail twitched faintly. She wasn't uncomfortable because of the fit of the clothes, but because of what they represented.
"I really… don't think it suits me," she said upon reaching the bottom, looking to the side.
"What do you think?" Martha asked lightly, though with obvious intent. "Do they look cute or not?"
Nebinen chuckled softly.
"I think they all look very good. Each has her own charm."
Satoru didn't respond immediately. He noticed that not only Martha and Nebinen were watching him, but also the demi-humans. Even Liza, though trying to hide it, glanced sideways at him, waiting to hear something.
Internally, Satoru sighed. He didn't like feeling pressured, but he understood that something more than a polite answer was at stake. He looked at Pochi, then Tama, and finally at Liza a bit more closely. He realized he had never thought about buying them nice clothes. Everything he had given them so far had been practical—training clothes, travel gear, useful items… but nothing like this.
"You look good," he finally said, his voice calm.
Martha raised an eyebrow, a bit disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm. Nebinen simply smiled.
The girls, however, looked more than happy. Even Liza had a smile on her face.
In the midst of the light atmosphere, Satoru murmured without thinking, as if the thought had slipped out.
"Perhaps I should buy them more clothes…"
Martha and Nebinen exchanged a quick glance before smiling almost at the same time.
***
The streets of the commercial district were more crowded than usual. The bustle of vendors, the smell of spices and freshly cooked food, and the constant flow of people created a lively, constant atmosphere. Among the crowd, Satoru and his group moved forward, with Nebinen guiding them toward the entrance to the area where tickets for the play would be sold.
"We should get the tickets before the seats fill up," Nebinen commented, looking at the line that was already starting to form. "I can go, if you give me a moment."
"I can do it," Liza said naturally. "It's part of my job."
Tama and Pochi, upon hearing her, perked up immediately.
"Pochi wants to go too!"
"Tama will go, yes!"
Nebinen hesitated for a moment, then turned to Satoru for his opinion. He shrugged, showing little interest.
"If they want to go, let them."
With a slight nod, Nebinen handed them the necessary coins.
"Make sure to bring back the change," he added, though his tone was more cordial than strict.
The demi-humans set off toward the line with determined steps, talking excitedly among themselves. Satoru and Nebinen, on the other hand, stayed put. For a few seconds, silence settled between them, until Nebinen decided to break it.
"You seem to care for them quite a bit," he said with a light smile.
The look Satoru gave him made him straighten immediately.
"Don't misunderstand me. What I mean is… not everyone would give them that kind of freedom."
Satoru held his gaze for a moment before replying.
"There's no special reason. Circumstances brought us together, and my responsibility is to cover their basic needs."
Nebinen nodded, but smiled again.
"I've seen people take care of their slaves, but you've been particularly generous. It shows in how they've changed since the last time I saw them. Better posture, more confidence… even their movements are different. I may not be an expert, but your training has benefited them a lot."
"They've worked hard," Satoru replied simply.
Nebinen let out a short laugh, and Satoru couldn't help but think that something in his response had been misunderstood. Internally, he admitted that they truly had been working hard. They had faced monsters as strong or stronger than themselves, whether alone or as a team. In just a few days, they had reached level fifteen. It didn't sound like much, but with the focus on improving their combat skills rather than the level itself, their progress was clear.
Compared to common bandits or soldiers, they could already be considered elite. Though they were still far from true experts—like Nebinen himself, whose level and training put him above many—Satoru recognized the difference.
The sound of the girls returning with the tickets in hand broke the moment, bringing their attention back to the activity of the district.
After that, the walk continued through the commercial district, with the constant hum of vendors announcing their goods and customers haggling. Satoru and his group moved at an unhurried pace, without a fixed destination, stopping now and then to observe the merchandise at street stalls.
Among the aromas of spices, sweets, and freshly made food, a quieter corner caught Satoru's attention.
On a cloth spread over the ground, a young man of about twenty displayed a series of illustrated cards. He had no formal stall or counter—just the cards neatly arranged in careful rows. When Satoru approached, Pochi tilted her head curiously, followed by Tama, who stepped forward.
Satoru crouched slightly to examine one of them. The cards showed a drawing on one side and, when flipped over, a word written in the Shiga language. A full set consisted of one hundred cards.
When Satoru asked about the product, the young man explained that he had designed them to teach the alphabet to children in his homeland. The idea, simple yet clever, seemed to spark the girls' interest: Tama smiled while flipping a card showing an animal; Pochi studied it with the focus of someone trying to memorize something new.
That, or they were just thinking about the meat of the animal.
"What's the price?" Satoru asked.
"Four silver coins for the complete set," the young man replied without hesitation.
Nebinen, standing nearby, frowned instinctively and muttered under his breath:
"That price sounds more like cost of materials than a selling price…"
He didn't seem to realize he'd spoken louder than he thought until the young man looked up at him. Feeling slightly awkward, he gave a brief apologetic gesture.
"Don't worry," the young man said with a smile. "I presented the idea to the Merchants' Guild, but we couldn't agree on production and sale prices. So I decided to make them myself and sell directly."
Nebinen nodded, acknowledging the effort. He smiled slightly and said:
"The concept is good, useful for both children and adults who want to learn to read."
While they spoke, Satoru remained silent, watching the girls interact with the young man. He explained how some cards could be grouped to form simple words, and they reacted with small laughs and curious looks.
The scene reminded him, faintly, that in the original story he knew how this vendor's fate played out: he would receive advice that helped him commercialize his product.
However, he had no intention of intervening.
In this world, he thought, innovations didn't spread easily. Introducing changes could generate consequences he had no interest in facing. The future of that young man and his own didn't need to intersect beyond this moment.
Finally, after a brief exchange of looks with Nebinen, Satoru decided to buy a set of cards. The young man thanked him with a bow, and the group continued on their way, leaving the small stall behind as the market's bustle once again surrounded them.
Continuing on their way, Satoru stopped in front of a small improvised stall, where the sweet aroma mixed with that of freshly lit firewood. On a wooden tray, the vendor displayed golden spheres covered by a fine, shiny layer, stacked in small towers.
Noticing his interest, Nebinen placed an order.
Pochi was the first to take a bite, and her eyes widened. "It's sweet and crunchy!" she exclaimed, wagging her tail enthusiastically.
Tama nodded without saying a word, simply enjoying the taste while her human ears twitched slightly from excitement.
Liza, on the other hand, took a moment before trying hers. When she did, her expression softened and a flicker of curiosity crossed her eyes.
"I think they used honey… and a bit of butter," she said in a thoughtful tone, as if mentally breaking down the recipe.
Satoru glanced at her from the corner of his eye, saying nothing, as the group continued walking through the market.
The path between the stalls eventually led them to an area where the air felt heavier, charged with the audience's anticipation. The voices, though numerous, lacked the bargaining tone of the market and instead carried the subdued murmur of those awaiting a performance. In front of them, an improvised stage stood out over the cobblestones, its fabric curtain separating the actors from the audience.
This was the place of the play.
Satoru and his group took seats in one of the side rows. Nebinen, arms crossed, seemed focused on what was about to begin. Hans, invisible to all but Satoru, remained somewhere within his shadow, watching in silence.
The performance began with a narrator describing how Zen, a young and talented mage, met Lilutiena, a princess. The opening scenes showed their growing affection—furtive meetings and stolen glances—while her family remained unaware. String music accompanied the romantic atmosphere, though the narrator's tone hinted that happiness would not last.
Then came the twist: Lilutiena, betrothed to Marquis Muno, begged Zen to help her escape. With the aid of a loyal maid, they fled the castle, traveling under the moonlight.
In the next scene, Marquis Muno appeared with his personal guard, intercepting the fugitives. With a haughty tone, he accused Zen of kidnapping his fiancée. The actors revealed a cloth that supposedly covered the bodies of the mage's family and friends. The audience reacted instantly—murmurs, gasps, even insults aimed at the marquis. Satoru noticed a faint click of Hans's tongue.
Zen cursed the marquis furiously, only to hear him reply that he had been "merciful" by granting them a quick death. The staged fight ended with Zen about to strike down his enemy—until the maid stabbed him in the back. The crowd held its breath, some shouting in outrage.
"Tsk."
Satoru froze when he heard the sound, glancing discreetly at his shadow to question whether he had imagined it.
Returning to the stage, the wyvern venom on the dagger sealed the mage's fate, and Lilutiena, unable to bear his loss, took her own life.
Just when it seemed the curtain would fall, Zen's body rose in the shadows, transformed into an undead by the power of his hatred.
From Satoru's shadow, Hans let out a brief "oh" of interest.
One by one, those connected to the marquis fell to his revenge. The maid attempted betrayal again, but her weapon was useless against a dead man.
Tension rose—Marquis Muno was about to perish—when suddenly a paladin appeared. This time, there was no respectful silence: the applause was mixed with boos and open jeers toward the "hero" who interrupted the vengeance.
Hans emitted a low growl of annoyance.
Amid heroic dialogue and exaggerated gestures, the paladin stopped Zen, saving the marquis. Before being destroyed for good, Zen cursed the land. The marquis, in a sudden shift of character, declared his will to sacrifice himself to save his people. The curtain fell with the paladin praising his nobility.
Satoru remained silent, watching as some applauded while others shook their heads. He knew there was no need to bother Nebinen with questions—he was already aware of the changes imposed on the script twenty years ago due to noble pressure.
In the original version, Lilutiena was not a princess, but a commoner who had married Zen, and the marquis had framed him out of lust. Zen, moreover, succeeded in his revenge, with the paladin arriving too late. At least, that was how the original script went.
In reality, there had been no redemption for the marquis, and the land of Muno remained scarred by the undead's curse.
The crowd slowly began to disperse, some discussing the performance enthusiastically, others still complaining about the ending. Among scattered laughter and departing footsteps, Nebinen broke the group's silence with a phrase that sounded more like an attempt to lighten the mood than a true opinion.
"Well… at least the audience was lively," he said with a shrug.
Satoru didn't answer right away. His attention was not on Nebinen, but on the fleeting curiosity Hans had shown during the play. It wasn't the time to question it, but neither would he forget.
Right now, there was something more important to confirm.
"My lord," Hans addressed Satoru, giving him the confirmation he had been waiting for.
Satoru didn't respond, but he did nod slightly. Without adding anything else, he turned to Nebinen.
"Let's go back to the inn. I'll answer your questions there… but first, let's buy something else on the way."
Hearing this, Pochi and Tama turned to him with bright eyes. Liza, though more reserved, also seemed expectant.
"That's fine with me," Nebinen said before looking at the demi-humans. "Do you want the same sweets as before, or would you prefer meat?"
"Meat!" the three replied almost in unison, with enough energy to bring a faint smile to Nebinen's face.
The return trip was accompanied by the smell of meat roasting at street stalls, until the bustle of the commercial district faded behind them. The quiet streets near the inn contrasted sharply with the earlier atmosphere.
When they arrived, Nebinen let out a sigh, as if preparing for the conversation he knew was coming. However, he stopped when he noticed that Satoru wasn't entering. Martha, who had come out to greet them, also seemed puzzled.
"Is something wrong?" Nebinen asked.
Satoru didn't respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the city gate, beyond the street. After a few seconds, he calmly asked:
"How strong is the city's barrier?"
Nebinen frowned, clearly confused.
Before he could answer, Satoru raised a hand and, with a precise gesture, released a wind slash that whistled through the air. The invisible projectile struck something in the distance, and the dull thud of a body hitting the ground echoed faintly.
Nebinen barely caught sight of the dark silhouette of a creature collapsing on the cobblestones, but he had no time to process it. Beyond the gate, on the horizon, something was moving… a multitude of winged shapes advancing directly toward the city.
Satoru kept his gaze fixed on them, without saying a word.
It seemed the routine had come to an end.