Chapter 394

The mage who had introduced himself as a member of the local vigilante committee frantically shook his head.

“We only responded to a report! Someone said there were mages carrying dangerous items in their luggage…!”

“Really?”

I asked with wide eyes. The vigilante nodded immediately. I stared at him for a moment, then barked, “If that’s the report you got, then you wouldn’t have blown up the luggage. Do you seriously expect me to believe that excuse—”

I narrowed my eyes, ready to tear into him, when Mecklenburg grabbed my ear and whispered, “Hey…! We already know they’re hiding something, so don’t push them too hard. If you back them into a corner, they might turn this around on you. Besides, our guess could be wrong!”

Our guess, huh. His thoughts and mine were probably the same. At this point, guessing who these people really were wasn’t exactly difficult, so there wasn’t much to be surprised about.

“How very wise of you. I guess I’ll have to ask a simpler question.”

I rolled my eyes toward the sky again, half mocking him. Then I let out a long sigh and looked down at the mage pinned beneath my foot.

“Well then, let’s start with an easier question. My luggage’s in pieces, and my clothes are caked in mud. How are you planning to compensate me?”

“W-We…”

“You could’ve talked to us like civilized people. You hear one tip-off, and a bunch of people who aren’t even real police decide to judge foreign mages on the spot? Honestly, I’ve had plenty of nonsense to deal with this year, but this might be the most ridiculous. And on top of that, what kind of country has mages this strong serving as vigilantes—”

Smack—

Mecklenburg smacked my forearm. I knew what he meant. If I kept pressing them, they’d only become defensive and start twisting the blame back onto us. But honestly, it was absurd that I couldn’t even ask the obvious questions. I took a deep breath, nodded once, and the mage beneath my foot spoke with obvious difficulty.

“It’s common practice here in Russia—especially out in the countryside—for vigilantes to use force against mages. The authorities can’t protect places like this. I know we acted violently and rudely. For that, I apologize.”

“…….”

We were speaking in French. It was finally time to make good use of Europe’s cultural lingua franca. The monks at the monastery were another story—Greek was far more reliable with them—but if these people were well-off nobles and mages, they’d have learned cultured French, and from the sound of it, they spoke it fluently. Then again, not every noble was good with foreign languages. So someone born into a noble family wealthy enough to provide that kind of education had become a vigilante because public order had broken down?

‘How righteous.’

It was such a wonderfully righteous story. Every word of it had something I could pick apart. I had to bite my tongue.

‘Sloppy.’

I bit the inside of my lip.

‘Sloppy. So sloppy…’

It was disappointing. Extremely disappointing. Though I understood why.

For one thing, we’d proven to be far more capable than they had expected, and they couldn’t have ignored that. Albert Mecklenburg would one day become the representative of the 98th Unit of the Imperial Mage Association. And I belonged to the Association as well.

But from their perspective, we were just two foreign tourists. They wouldn’t have imagined we had anything to do with the Imperial Mage Association. At best, they’d have assumed we were ordinary mages—New Humans by birth, but hardly better than non-mages.

I’d grown so used to students from the Imperial Second Academy that I’d forgotten what “average” looked like. Most New Humans couldn’t use magic anywhere near as freely as we could.

With superior numbers and fairly skilled fighters on their side, they probably never imagined the two of us could win. More importantly, beating us outright had never been the goal. They wanted to scare us into leaving Russia—or stop us from renewing our warp permits, leaving us as little better than illegal overstayers. Once our permits expired, we’d have no choice but to flee the country as quickly as possible.

But to someone like me, who considered every possibility, they still looked sloppy. They hadn’t even prepared a convincing story in case they lost. Ironically, that sloppiness gave me something else to work with.

Seeing the look on my face, the vigilante answered in a shrinking voice.

“No mage has come to this village in over a year. Maybe the villagers panicked and made a false report…”

“You already destroyed our luggage, so you should know better than anyone. We weren’t carrying anything dangerous, nor did we intend to. So what happens to us now?”

“I’ll report to the captain that there was a misunderstanding. And I promise you won’t be attacked again.”

Keeping my magic in place, I helped them to their feet.

“Very well. Then let me ask you one thing. If you’re all this capable, why are you working as vigilantes?”

The vigilante met my gaze without wavering.

“Because I love this region. This place is no different from a home to me.”

“…….”

“Especially in times like these, we have to do our part. The newspapers are filled with unsettling news every day as it is. If law and order break down even once, there’s no putting things back the way they were.”

“Hm.”

“Surely it’s the same for you Germans. If you love your homeland, then you should understand why we do this.”

His voice trembled slightly, the way it naturally does when someone speaks from the heart. I watched him in silence for a moment before replying calmly.

“I understand. I understand all too well—which is the problem. In that case, is there anything we can do to help?”

Screech—

“You’re finally out.”

The moment I opened the door, I found Leo leaning against the wall. I looked around before narrowing my eyes at him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing there for three hours.”

“Would that be a problem?”

“You have your own things to do.”

“This is my thing.”

Leo replied with his usual blank expression, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

This guy seriously has nothing better to do… I swallowed the remark and headed into the living room. Leo followed behind me and asked quietly, “So? I’m curious what you found.”

“Promise me you won’t ask where, what, who, or how I got this information.”

“That’s a little late to ask, isn’t it? Would you even tell me if I did?”

“…….”

Seriously, what’s with everyone? Mecklenburg said the exact same thing.

Either Mecklenburg was surprisingly good at reading people, or he was quick-witted. We’d barely spent any time together, yet he’d come to the same conclusion as Leo.

“I’ll tell you when the time comes. You, at least, I’ll definitely tell.”

“Hmm. Glad to hear it.”

“…Anyway. Ismailov made a pact with Pleroma when he was a child. His circumstances pushed him into it.”

“His circumstances? What happened?”

“Before joining Pleroma, Ismailov grew up in a monastery. He was an orphan.”

“…Ah. I think I already see where this is going.”

Of course he did. Everyone knew Pleroma had always preyed on orphans. They made good blood materials, and if one happened to have the right aptitude, it was easy enough to raise them in one of their dioceses.

“Around 1888 to 1891, the monastery started falling apart. Pleroma approached Ismailov and offered him money—or rather, an enormous amount of mana. He couldn’t bear to watch the monastery that had raised him collapse, so he joined hands with Pleroma. Well… ‘joined hands’ isn’t really the right way to put it.”

“More like they got their hands on him. No matter how much he thought it was his own decision, a child pretending to be an adult’s equal was never going to see through people like that.”

“Right. Those Pleroma members disguised themselves as vigilantes in Russia. Either they infiltrated an existing vigilante committee or they were posing as one themselves. I’m leaning toward the latter.”

Leo listened without interrupting, then gave a slow nod.

“Alright. So you’re saying there were people who recognized Ismailov’s potential long before this. It’s obvious they didn’t only discover him this year just because they approached him this year. But if they already knew what he was capable of, I don’t see why they’d leave him tucked away in a Russian monastery all this time.”

“Who knows. Maybe there was some prophecy about the timing. That’s why I’m not ready to conclude that they knew about his potential from the beginning.”

Leo let out a breath and sank back into his chair.

“Fine, I get it. More importantly… you’re really starting from the very beginning.”

It might look like I’m taking the long way around, but if I don’t dig up the root of the problem, it’ll just keep happening. This time it was Heike. Next time, it could be someone else. I don’t even know what form it’ll take. I still don’t know how to save Heike. All I have are guesses about what’s causing this—about who’s behind it. So the only choice is to go back to the beginning and uncover everything.

“When you can’t see the answer, the most straightforward approach is usually the fastest.”

I answered simply. When I didn’t say anything else, Leo asked, “So what now?”

“That’s actually why I came out. I need about ten more hours to dig up information.”

Leo, who had looked calm the whole time, narrowed his eyes.

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I’m the one who should be asking that. Why can’t I?”

“I waited three hours, and now you’re telling me to wait another ten?”

“…….”

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded, then let out a long sigh and waved him off.

“…Do you seriously have no friends besides me? Go hang out with Elias or something.”

“Who knows what you’ll do the second I look away.”

“I’m not doing anything dangerous. I promised.”

At least my real body wouldn’t be put in danger. There wasn’t a better place than this to gather information. I smiled at Leo, who still looked unconvinced.

“I’ll come out every hour and have tea with you. Happy now?”

“Mr. Abel!”

The monk slapped my cheek and shook me. Beside him, Mecklenburg was looking down at me with an exasperated expression. The yellow lamp hanging over the monastery entrance washed everything in my vision in a pale haze. When I opened my eyes, the monk let out a relieved breath. Then, noticing the blood on my clothes and on Mecklenburg’s shirt collar, his face turned pale.

“There’s blood on your clothes. What happened?”

“…What was I doing?”

“You collapsed the moment you arrived.”

I looked at the worried monk in confusion and rubbed my head.

‘Good.’

Just as planned. I had deliberately come all the way to the monastery before stepping out of the Extra Chapter. If anything went wrong, I needed witnesses who could testify that we’d been attacked by the vigilantes. When I stayed silent, Mecklenburg explained in my place.

“…We went to extend our warp permits and ran into the vigilantes. It seems a false rumor spread because foreign mages had come to town, and they attacked us. We settled things in the end, but I think he is still recovering from the attack.”

“The vigilantes? They attacked you over nothing but a rumor?”

The monk tilted his head in disbelief.

“They are usually reasonable people. Whenever there is trouble at the tavern down in the village, they rush over to mediate before things get out of hand. But they don’t just patrol this village—they are responsible for all of Kaluga… It is strange. News that foreign mages visited the monastery shouldn’t have spread this quickly.”

“…….”

“I have talked long enough. Come inside. We will treat your injuries.”

I shook my head and got to my feet.

“We will just drop off our luggage and come right back. Now that the misunderstanding has been cleared up, I’d like to have a word with them.”

Earlier, I’d asked if there was anything we could do to help them.

Help them? As if. I had no intention of helping them.

But I did need to keep them talking and squeeze some information out of them. Apparently our interests happened to align, because instead they asked if we’d give them a chance to apologize. So we’d agreed to meet again in the village square.

Of course, I had no illusions that their intentions were genuine. I was already preparing for the worst. The monk seemed worried as well, shaking his head.

“Are you sure? It would be better if you rested here.”

“We will be staying here for a while. There is no point in letting bad blood linger between us.”

Ignoring the monk’s attempt to stop me, I headed down to the village square with Mecklenburg.

One of the vigilantes spotted us, immediately turned on his heel, and led us into a narrow alley. Mecklenburg looked genuinely conflicted about whether we should follow, but it wasn’t a decision worth agonizing over. We followed the vigilante down a clay-brick staircase until we reached a shabby tavern. Most of the patrons were drunk, roaring with laughter. Even the sober ones did nothing but stare at us.

“Mr. Emil Abel. Mr. Clemens Schmidt.”

A voice with a German accent cut through the room. Mecklenburg and I turned at the same time. A neatly dressed New Human rose from his seat to greet us.

“I heard you are from Germany. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Helga Brandt.”

“So you’re German as well.”

“That’s right. My father was German. Though I was born and raised here in Russia, so I consider myself Russian.”

Helga Brandt offered a polite smile, met our eyes, and bowed his head slightly.

“Our vigilantes accepted false information without verifying it and treated you with great disrespect. As captain of the Kaluga district, I’d like to offer my sincere apologies.”

“So you’re the captain. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

Twenty-six? That’s awfully young to be a captain.

Mecklenburg must have thought the same, judging by the uncertain smile on his face. Helga seemed used to that reaction. A bitter smile flickered across his lips before he composed himself.

“I’ll compensate you for all the damaged property. I’ll also cover your medical expenses. Come to think of it, I should’ve asked this first, but everything happened so suddenly… Were you badly hurt?”

“More or less.”

“I see… I’m truly sorry. I have no excuse.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d be more careful next time. If you’re willing to believe even malicious rumors for the sake of public safety, isn’t that a double-edged sword for the people who live here?”

“Indeed. We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. Thank you for being so understanding. And… I should’ve come to the monastery to apologize in person, but since you’re visiting Russia, I’d at least like to treat you to some local food and drink. Please, have a seat.”

I smiled and lightly tapped Mecklenburg in the stomach with the back of my hand just as he started pulling out a chair.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink for religious reasons. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a shame. Then how about a smoke?”

Helga Brandt held out a cigarette. Narrowing my eyes, I gently pushed his hand away.

“No. I don’t smoke either. I’m a theology student, and I’d like to keep a clear head at all times.”

“Ah… I see. Though smoking does clear your head.”

“Haha. You could always just take a deep breath instead.”

“…Hmm!”

His reaction made me narrow my eyes slightly before curling my lips into a faint smile as I looked him straight in the eye. Helga snapped his fingers.

“That’s a good idea.”

There was no need to wonder what he meant by that. Helga Brandt and the members of the vigilance committee had been doing everything they could to get on our good side. Some of those attempts, however, only ended up rubbing us the wrong way.

For example.

When he noticed we were only drinking water, Helga set his own drink aside and quietly asked, “I heard you spent the day looking around town. Did anyone here catch your eye?”

“Excuse me?”

That was an incredibly Old Human kind of question. It had been the sort of thing I couldn’t stand even when I was an Old Human—back then it had even been a problem because of my job—so I simply played dumb and blinked at him. Seeing my expression, Helga Brandt grinned.

“Shame you’re a New Human.”

So if I’d been an Old Human, they would’ve tried to pair me up with one of the locals? Mecklenburg got the same question and answered “No” without hesitation. That was the first question that got on our nerves. The second came on the third day after we met. Helga showed up at the café terrace where Mecklenburg and I were sitting and asked out of nowhere, “Want to go to the bathhouse?”

“Are you going to keep saying ridiculous things like that?”

By then, I’d already attained a state of spiritual detachment, which probably says enough on its own. But whether he was just naturally sociable or not, he kept trying to get closer to us every time we met.

“Huh…? We’re New Humans anyway…”

“I value my personal space, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Aw, come on.”

“I’m serious. I’m a theology student. I don’t go to public bathhouses.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that theology students can’t go to bathhouses…”

“Then you can consider today your first.”

I flipped another page and kept rambling whatever came to mind. Resting his arms on the terrace railing, Helga tilted his head.

“You came all the way to Russia, but you don’t drink vodka, you don’t smoke papirosy. The only things you’ve put in your mouth are borscht and kasha.”

“I drink coffee too.”

“Even for a New Human, don’t you think you live a little too boringly?”

“I’m perfectly happy with it.”

I shut my book with a sharp clap and smiled. That’s your cue to leave.

One would think I could’ve used that chance to ask about the vigilantes.

As if I hadn’t already tried. He never said anything of substance, and I spent our conversations squeezing every clue I could out of his meaningless chatter. It had turned into an endless back-and-forth. I’d gathered enough side information for now. It was time to get to the important part, but at least that day, I wasn’t in the mood.

I opened my book again. Helga Brandt tipped his teal vigilante cap and came out with the cheesiest line imaginable.

“Your hair looks like the sun.”

“…….”

“Pff— Cough.”

Sitting beside me, Mecklenburg nearly spat out his coffee and had to clap a hand over his mouth. Even I had never delivered a line that corny when I was acting. Truly, this was the nineteenth century. That was how the third day ended.

And today marked the seventh.

It was also the fifth time I’d had tea with Leo. The idiot never got tired of it—he genuinely expected me to come have tea with him every single hour. And then…

Knock, knock.

“Your letters came!”

It was eight in the morning. I opened the door, and Yuri shoved two letters into my hands.

Both were from Helga Brandt. He’d been sending me letters every day for a week now. I sat at the dining table with a conflicted look and took a drink of water. Mecklenburg, freshly washed, spotted the letters in my hand and let out a dry laugh.

“I’ve been thinking… I think that guy likes you.”

“Pfft—!”

“Gross!”

“You’re one to talk. Anyway, what makes you think that?”

“Are you blind? Anyone can tell he’s interested in you.”

“I’m not interested in New Humans.”

“You’re a New Human too. Don’t tell me you’re into Old Humans instead?”

There was both mischief and genuine curiosity in his eyes. I glanced at him and smiled.

“No. I’m not interested in anyone. I’m here to study. Getting distracted by things like that isn’t what a student should be doing.”

“…….”

“Aren’t you the same?”

Mecklenburg blinked, then snapped back.

“…O-Of course I’m not interested either! I’d rather spend that time reading.”

“Boring.”

“What do you want me to say, then?!”

“What do you think? Why are you always trying to earn my approval?”

Seriously, get some self-esteem, you idiot. Deciding not to needle him any further, I turned my attention back to my plate. Mecklenburg looked like he wanted to fire back, but apparently too tired to bother. He shook his head and steered the conversation back to its original topic.

“Come to think of it, that guy’s the strange one. Why is a New Human acting like an Old Human? It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it. That’s why I think he just wants to be friends, and you’re reading too much into it.”

“Maybe. I’ve never wanted to be friends with anyone, so I wouldn’t know. People always approached me first.”

“Well, aren’t you something… Anyway, that’s what I’m saying. Try looking at it from a different angle.”

Sharp little bastard. I said that, but I wasn’t exactly clueless myself. It wasn’t the kind of interest Mecklenburg was imagining, but Helga definitely had a reason for approaching us. And I already knew what it was. After spending this much time here and gathering this much information, it’d be stranger if I didn’t.

I opened one of the letters Helga had sent. It was full of the usual nonsense, so I set it aside and opened the other one.

“Hmm. Right. He’s inviting us to dinner with the vigilantes again today.”

“You going? You skipped yesterday and the day before.”

“I did.”

I glanced at the meeting place written at the bottom of the letter, then handed it to him.

“But I’m going today. He’s asking us to meet at the vigilante headquarters.”

“…This guy lives in the headquarters building? What’s that about?”

As soon as we stepped inside the vigilante headquarters, Mecklenburg widened his eyes and whispered to me.

Indeed. Helga Brandt lived in the headquarters. More accurately, he’d turned his own estate into the headquarters. Thinking back, inviting us to dinner here instead of somewhere else had been a little odd from the start.

I cast a soundproofing spell and answered simply.

“There are all kinds of people. If anything, it works out better for us.”

“…Better?”

Thus, we had a light dinner before moving into the banquet hall they’d prepared. I picked up a drink from a passing tray, finished a couple of glasses, casually looked over the layout of the building, then walked over to Helga Brandt, the host of the party. He raised an eyebrow and waved.

“Oh. Settling in all right?”

“The party’s great. Thanks for inviting us.”

Helga grinned and snapped his fingers.

“Glad to hear it. I’m the one who’s grateful you came. But…”

“Yes?”

“That’s alcohol you’re drinking. Kvass.”

“…!”

I covered my mouth and frowned. Helga burst out laughing and slapped me on the back.

“Hahaha! You picked the one that barely tastes like alcohol, didn’t you? It pretty much tastes like a soft drink. Sweet water, really.”

“Oh no… It was alcohol? What am I supposed to do? I’ve already had quite a bit.”

“You’ll be fine~ It’s not like you’re going to get drunk off that.”

“That’s not the problem. I abstain from alcohol for religious reasons…!”

“Come on. You didn’t know it was alcohol, so it doesn’t count. It’s basically not alcohol. There, problem solved.”

“…….”

“Enjoy it. Who knows when you’ll get another chance to try something like this after you go home?”

“…I suddenly have a headache.”

I put on the face of someone utterly devastated and turned away. At the entrance, Mecklenburg watched the whole thing with a quiet snort. I immediately dropped the act, set my glass onto an empty tray, and waited.

Once the party had been going for a while and everyone was at least a little drunk, I tapped Mecklenburg on the shoulder and whispered, “Keep them occupied. Five minutes.”

Mecklenburg nodded. I headed toward the restroom outside the hall, then slipped up the staircase in the adjacent corridor.

‘Like I’d actually mistake that for alcohol. I’ve been here for a week.’

To be fair, it really did taste like a soft drink. If you didn’t know, you’d never guess it contained alcohol.

After making sure the hallway was empty, I stepped into a room and shifted every candlestick.

Creak— Slide.

The scrape of metal, the groan of old floorboards. Nothing else happened. I swept my wand through the air, using magic to jostle every book on the shelves once, then moved into the next room and repeated the process. The third room. The moment I slid the first candlestick above the fireplace to the side, the scenery before my eyes changed.

“…….”

I’m in. The shabby room vanished, replaced by a spotless white office with a marble floor.

‘Hiding spatial magic like this… that’s so Pleroma.’

Well, if it’s Pleroma, I can’t exactly say I’m surprised. I gave the neatly organized room a quick once-over before drawing my wand.

— Seek, and you shall find.

“Yuri Alekseyev.”

The middle shelf of the bookcase beside me lit up. I pulled out the glowing stack of documents and flipped through them.

“…….”

What was written there wasn’t much different from what I’d already told Leo. Just as I’d suspected, Pleroma had approached Yuri Alekseyev. There was one thing worth noting, though.

‘It seems the leadership hasn’t taken a special interest in Yuri yet.’

The only group targeting Yuri Alekseyev was the Kaluga Center under Pleroma’s Russian branch. There were other orphans listed besides Yuri. I committed every name and detail on the pages to memory before flipping through the rest. Then I saw a newly labeled file. My mouth fell open before I even realized it.

“…….”

What on earth is this?

‘Lavrentyev Monastery Assimilation Plan.’

That was what the cover said. Assimilation? Assimilation? I knew exactly what it meant. I flipped the file open, only to find an even more explicit heading.

‘Convert Everyone at Lavrentyev Monastery into Believers.’

[Bestow blessings first. Baptism and any religious rites that deviate from Orthodox doctrine are prohibited.]

“…….”

A chill ran down my spine.

A few days ago, I’d told Leo, “Pleroma approached Ismailov and offered him money—or rather, an enormous amount of mana.”

That was true.

But it was also wrong. They weren’t planning to grant mana to Yuri Alekseyev alone. They intended to make everyone in Lavrentyev capable of using magic. In other words, just as the document described, they meant to turn the entire monastery into Pleroma members.

Feeling the blood drain from my face, I forced myself to turn the page. Inside were a handwritten memo someone had made for their own reference, along with a yellow letter they’d received. I skimmed through both.

[_De l’éducation/1.Mose 4,4]

I shifted my gaze to the side. From the very first line, the letter was hastily scribbled in German.

[You nearly gave me a heart attack. Declinatio? On what grounds? And a German, of all people? Does the branch know about this?]

Declinatio. A Latin word meaning declension. Here, it was probably being used as a code.

‘…De l’éducation. On Education. And 1. Mose…’

Tap—

A cold hand settled on my right shoulder. A voice came from behind me, just to my left.

“What are you doing?”