"It's finally out." As Ambassador Bakerland's blood, mixed with faint red light, formed a dark red sphere with brain-like grooves, Snow raised his eyebrows and allowed a slight smile to cross his face.
"That thing looks like it's polluted." Trissy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, glanced at the sphere that seemed to radiate a constant curse, her voice tinged with fear.
The God's Profanity Snow had used earlier hadn't been directed at her, but the verbal-type spell itself had been empowered by the True Creator. Even simply hearing it would cause a significant impact.
Snow shook his head at her words. "It's not an issue worth worrying about. I'm not the one who's going to use it anyway. Though it's from the Hunter pathway, it's only a Sequence 6 characteristic, so you can't use it yet. By the way, this puppet is a mystical item corresponding to the Sequence 5 of the Seer pathway. I'll keep it for a few days, and if nothing goes wrong, I'll give it to you later."
"Who said I wanted that thing! Just pay me the reward you promised. More importantly, how are we getting out of here?" Trissy watched as Snow brought out an iron cigarette case and used a wall of spirituality to create a separate compartment, ensuring it wouldn't mingle with the Baron of Corruption characteristic. She then stood up and moved toward the window, ready to jump and escape at a moment's notice.
"Don't worry. We'll just walk out normally. But first, wait a moment." Countless tentacles extended from Snow's shadow, lifting Bakerland's corpse and pinning it to the wall in an inverted cross, head downward. He then used the blood to evenly paint the wall behind the body, creating a scene evocative of a religious ritual.
"You want to shift the blame onto the Aurora Order?" Trissy looked at Snow with suspicion, only to find herself in a state of shock as Snow pushed the door open directly.
"Are you insane?!" she hissed, instinctively activating her invisibility. Snow rolled his eyes at her.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. There's a Sequence 5 military attache in this embassy. If it's a Reaper from the Hunter pathway, you might be fine, but if it happens to be a Marionettist, your invisibility will only expose your existence."
"But..." Trissy wanted to argue, but Snow had already stepped out of the room.
"The wall of spirituality is about to break. If you don't leave now, you can stay here with the corpse. I don't want the scent of blood to spread ahead of time."
"I... I understand!" Watching Snow saunter out of the room with an air of careless confidence, Trissy ultimately chose not to say anything more. Despite her confusion regarding Snow's intentions, he wouldn't sacrifice a Sequence 6 tool like her just to kill another Sequence 6, would he?
She wasn't devaluing herself; it was simply a matter of logical value.
The door closed again, and Snow led Trissy downstairs with practiced ease. To Trissy's utter amazement, the process was as smooth as taking a stroll in one's own home. Not a single Beyonder noticed them.
However...
"Can we really hide it like this?" Trissy draped her arm over Snow's shoulder, slowly moving their feet to the rhythm of the music.
Snow's lips quirked upward as he danced with her. "Relax. Although we seem to have blended into the crowd, not a single person here will remember our faces."
"Then why don't we leave now?" Trissy asked, seemingly accidentally stepping on Snow's foot. Snow's expression became increasingly strange.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. Your behavior is becoming more and more feminine!"
"Damn it!"
...
While Snow and Trissy were dancing in the ballroom, Lanevus sat in Mr. A's residence. He laid down his pen and walked to the window. The music in the room had been looping for a full hour, and the once-agitated consciousness of the True Creator had calmed down slightly.
"It's about time." Lanevus took a deep breath. Soon after, a gentle melody began to emanate from his nose--a quiet, slightly melancholic tune.
Accompanied by his humming, the True Creator's consciousness in his chest began to sing along in a language that didn't belong to any known linguistic family.
"Неслышны в саду даже шорохи, Всё здесь замерло до утра..."
The voice was soft and gentle, unlike anything one would expect from the True Creator. Yet, it was undeniably happening.
Lanevus had been hiding one thing--he was no longer a "Swindler." After completing the Tingen fraud case, he had completely digested the potion and advanced to become a "Cryptologist" shortly after arriving in Backlund.
This secrecy, which seemed useless at first, had become his final trump card for escape. Using the enhanced observation, association, and deduction abilities of a Cryptologist, he had discovered that the essence of Snow's "compositions" was actually through listening to the True Creator's ravings, selecting melodies, and combining them.
During this process, he had also noticed that not every melody Snow played would make the True Creator impassioned. A tiny fraction of them worked like a lullaby, causing His will to settle down.
Though it wasn't easy to pick out a calming melody from that constant, noisy stream of shifting tunes, a Cryptologist specialized in exactly that kind of intricate work.
Lanevus had spent over half a month enduring the True Creator's erosion and the constant stimulation of the music, finally filtering out a single song from the vast array of melodies. But he had never sung it--until today.
Lanevus didn't know what the song he was humming meant to the True Creator, nor did he know its name. He only knew that it was a tune that could make the True Creator's aggressive spirituality retract, allowing Him to drift into a sweet, baby-like sleep.
"Mmhmm, mmhmm... Mmhmm, mmhmm..."
As the humming continued, the noisy "Katyusha" melody in the room seemed to vanish. Control over Lanevus's body returned entirely to his own hands. He leaped from the bed, used the True Creator's power to leave a shadow clone behind, and placed his hand on the locked window.
Click.
With a light sound, the window swung open. Lanevus glanced back at the letter on the desk, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking arc, and leaped out of the room.
The letter was written in a flamboyant, unrestrained hand, showcasing a simple musical score along with Lanevus's derisive message.
'My thanks to you, Great Musician Mr. Snow! Thanks to your compositions, I have mastered a method to put the True Creator to sleep. I leave this song for you and look forward to our next meeting! Your faithful listener, Lanevus.'
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]