Chapter 79

“Alright.”

Muttering that he should simply stop talking, Commander Dezeb Avganis turned his gaze away.

“You were having quite an interesting conversation. That is something you should be discussing with me, not with him, isn’t it?”

His tone was perfectly even.

He picked up the teapot from the table and poured himself a cup as though it already belonged to him. In the unnaturally silent sitting room, the sound of tea splashing into porcelain rang sharply. Somehow, even the simple sound of tea being poured felt ominous.

“I even left a buyer waiting. Answer me quickly.”

The priest said nothing.

“Why are you discussing with him something you should be discussing with me?”

The priest shuffled backward.

Then, from beyond the door, came a grotesque sound—a faint creak, followed by a crack.

Splintering. Crunching. Something breaking apart. A noise chewing through itself with a wet, grinding rasp...

The retreating priest began to tremble.

“L-Lady... Lady Vermilion, we did not summon you with the intention of harming you...”

But the horrible chewing beyond the door settled into a steady rhythm.

Clack. Crunch.

The priest’s voice died away.

“If that had been your intention, I wouldn’t be standing here pouring tea.”

He did not look remotely like a man who was merely pouring tea, yet Commander Dezeb spoke without the slightest shame.

“Sanctuary has the right to summon active-duty soldiers. We followed lawful procedure in requesting an audience.”

“Sanctuary soldiers, yes. Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion holds a license issued by the Spirit Realm. You have no authority to summon her.”

The fact that he was arguing jurisdiction meant he apparently still intended to behave like a human being.

In a world where insubordination could erupt into violence at any moment, jurisdiction mattered greatly—at least to humans.

Dezeb Avganis, however, had never lived under anyone’s jurisdiction.

If he had, he would never have become the head of the most notorious criminal syndicate in the universe.

“It... it must have been a misunderstanding...”

A heavy pounding shook the closed door.

Creak, creak...

The pounding stopped.

Then the chewing began again.

Clack. Crunch.

“This will not happen again...”

“It had better not.”

Dezeb answered coolly.

“Do not summon a member of the Marquis house without cause. He has the right to refuse. We are on the verge of an engagement, which means that, for all practical purposes, she is already a member of the Marquis house.”

It was a stretch, but he continued to keep the conversation within the bounds of reason.

Apparently, he was content to leave the unreasonable part waiting outside in the hall.

“No more surprise summons. Do not call her out again. I am busy.”

He took a sip of tea before adding,

“I hope Sanctuary remains intact. The cycle requires it.”

“...Does that mean...?”

“The tea is acceptable.”

Ignoring the unfinished question, he set down his cup and called to her.

“Erabelle.”

“Yes, yes.”

Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion immediately snapped to attention.

He reached out and smoothed back a few strands of her slightly disheveled hair.

“It looks like I’ll be returning earlier than planned. Probably this evening.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing serious. I sent the proposal, and apparently the Count intends to come in person. It seems he left this morning. Since he is coming anyway, both families will gather at the Marquis house.”

“...What?”

“Be ready.”

Before she could ask even one follow-up question, something wrapped around her.

Her vision went black.

***

Erabelle slowly opened her eyes and stared up at the familiar ceiling of the living room.

...

The muted sounds of a video game came from the TV.

She stared blankly at the ceiling for several seconds, then slipped a hand into her pocket and felt around.

Her fingers closed around paper.

A bill, neatly folded into quarters.

From the feel of it, definitely 10cp.

A dream is supposed to stay a dream. Why is it following me into reality? That’s terrifying...

Apparently, there was no need to book herself into a hospital after all.

Erabelle slid bonelessly off the couch and collapsed onto the floor.

“Ah, crap! You scared me.”

Sanche, who had turned off the movie to play a game, jumped and spun around.

“What are you, a corpse? Why would you just flop over like that in the middle of a nap?”

You little...

So that was why he had packed his bags without a single complaint.

When you clicked your tongue and said I still didn’t get it... this is what you meant, you little...

“Hey, did you have a nightmare or something? Hello? You gonna answer me?”

“...Get lost.”

“Oh, come on!”

Erabelle grabbed the remote.

Click.

“Romantic 4” appeared on the screen again.

“Hey!”

Sanche, who had been in the middle of a boss fight, yelped.

For one delighted second, Erabelle grinned.

Then the smile vanished from her face.

A breaking-news alert cut across the screen the moment the TV came on.

...

There had been a temporary disruption to the Sanctuary network.

A shock wave had been detected.

Verification was still underway, and the reason for the disruption remained unknown.

Footage showed a section of Sanctuary shearing away and falling into the physical plane.

He said he hoped it would remain intact.

His definition of “intact” is definitely different from everyone else’s.

Still, judging by the footage, at least he didn’t destroy the whole thing.

“W-what? What the hell is that all of a sudden?”

“Why are you freaking out? Your contract is with our duchy’s planetary god anyway.”

“Sure, but this is Sanctuary!”

Right.

Sanctuary.

Across both the Federation and the Empire, roughly eighty percent of the population was probably about to experience problems with their primary signum licenses.

Letting Sanche’s squawking wash past her, Erabelle murmured,

“James... life is like a bag of potato chips.”

Cute James smiled beneath scarlet breaking-news banners flashing like warning lights.

“You think you’ve crushed everything into crumbs, but somehow there’s always more left to break.”

Still rattled by the report, Sanche turned toward her.

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

“Shut up and get lost.”

“...Fine.”

He stood up, switched off the TV, snatched the remote, and bolted.

“Hey!”

Erabelle sprang off the couch and tore after him.

Of course, she failed to catch him.

And the gulf between the siblings widened a little further.

***

“See? This is why I told you to call him.”

It was tragic.

She had been going to call him.

In, say, five hundred years.

Seriously.

“I warned you.”

It was so tragic that she wanted to punch Sanche in the solar plexus while the Count stared down at her in silence from the enormous screen.

Erabelle offered him her most pitiful smile.

[...We will speak in person.]

We could just talk now...

She put on the most mournful expression she could manage.

The Count snorted and terminated the transmission.

Trying to coax him into giving up on the visit had only made things worse.

He had been sulking before.

Now he was angry.

Aboard the Avganis family ship.

As promised, Commander Dezeb returned near evening, and they set course for the marquisate.

The ship belonged to the Marquis house, but its corridors were packed with members of the 41st Division.

Seeing Sanche in this den of iniquity, Erabelle felt strangely calm.

Ten straight days of living under the same roof had apparently numbed her to his presence.

Life...

Erabelle quietly pulled out her pad, connected to the Count’s location tracker, then collapsed face-first onto the bed.

She was exhausted.

Her coworkers, who had seen her face every day for years, now treated her like some distinguished guest, bowing as they escorted her to quarters suited to the future Marquis.

It felt less like a cabin aboard a ship and more like a guest suite in some grand estate.

Dezeb, meanwhile, had apparently accumulated a mountain of work after returning early.

He stopped by briefly, then disappeared again.

...

Alone, Erabelle tapped her heels against the mattress and stared up at a pendant light that probably cost more than her entire life.

She hummed an old song under her breath.

...A sudden family summit, seriously?

She could not remember the lyrics, so she simply repeated the same line over and over.

Eventually, she lowered her hands and stared into space.

...

The script that had run across her vision like chains.

Those letters...

That dark, blood-soaked red...

“...It really was the same color.”

Exactly the same as the pills she was taking now.

The same deep red as his blood.

With a groan, Erabelle curled into herself and closed her eyes.

She dozed like that for a while before slipping into a deep sleep.

When she woke, she felt completely refreshed.

Morning.

...I slept?

I actually slept in a situation like this?

And I slept well.

Unbelievable...

Grumbling, she dragged her pad closer to check the Count’s route.

Then she shot upright.

***

A rift had opened directly along the Count’s flight path.

The kind of monster rift that normally appeared only in active conflict zones.

Why one had appeared outside a conflict zone was not the most urgent question.

The problem was that fewer than three percent of civilians caught near rifts of that class survived.

And that three percent included people left beyond recovery in intensive care, as well as those who suffered severe, permanent psychological collapse.