The two pursuers were waiting in the lounge attached to the first floor of the inn, wearing perfectly ordinary expressions.
But Gaark's face was terrifying, and the old lady who burned everything had an aura of her own that was equally intimidating.
The atmosphere exuded by a great merchant or noble was different from that of an elite hunter. The empty space that had naturally formed around the two of them was probably due to this.
The moment they spotted me, Gaark's already terrible expression turned into something you'd expect from a criminal.
The old firebug's expression didn't change as drastically, but I knew this old woman was an arsonist who set things ablaze on a whim.
She had this air about her that as long as no one died, anything went—and even if you killed someone, it was fine as long as no evidence remained.
During my vacation, she'd gotten into a brawl with the Arcane Society and wrecked the town, yet here she was strolling around in broad daylight. That made her far more dangerous than any ordinary criminal organization.
A buffer zone had formed around them that no one would normally dare enter, but since Lucia was pulling me by the hand, I had no choice.
My stomach, my head, and my heart all hurt. My body felt heavy. I was going to throw up.
Citry pulled out a chair for me, so I sat down. Then I couldn't help but let out a deep sigh and spoke.
"Gaark... Could it be that you're free?"
"Huh!? That's your opening line!?"
"I'm not free, you know..."
"Leader, please take this seriously."
Lucia chided me as I gave up completely. Did I have no allies? I looked toward Citry standing nearby, but she just gave me a sweet smile.
No—that wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want a smile.
Normally, this would be a scene that drew strange looks, but everyone was skilled enough at avoiding trouble that no one was looking our way.
Several groups of patrons quietly slipped away.
The woman known as "The Abyssal Extinguisher" tilted her teacup with an elegant motion and spoke in her hoarse voice.
"We've no intention of causing trouble at the Martial Emperor Festival, either. It's a thrilling celebration—I used to throw myself into the competitions back in my day."
"I'm well aware, Rosemary. As I recall... you set fire to the spectator seats and got banned from competing."
This old woman had no limiter at all... Seriously, our Liliz and Luke were still better behaved.
Citry delivered that barb with a beaming smile, and the old woman shot her a glare—but quickly composed herself and turned to look at me.
Even though she was just looking at me, I felt like I was being glared at. Her eyes were terrifying.
"Thousand Transformations, it's your fault for walking out before we finished the detailed briefing. But... well, fine... whether you intended it or not, I was planning to come to Creet regardless."
Forgiving me was fine, but why did their briefings leave me no right to refuse? The "famous person tax"... was too steep.
I glanced at Citry on one side and a listless-looking Lucia on the other.
I managed to calm down a little.
Let me think about this calmly. This time was better than last time.
Unlike last time, when I'd been dragged off to Magic Staff's Clan House against my will, this time I had Citry and Lucia with me.
Citry was the party's brain, and Lucia was my barrier—a fortress shield that could even cover stray projectiles. Above all, the old Abyssal Extinguisher went a little easy when dealing with a fellow mage.
They'd chase me down if I ran anyway. While the two of them were here, why not settle this right now?
I spoke in a hard-boiled manner.
"So, what was it again? Something about a fox?"
"Don't be an idiot—don't say names in a place like this. Who knows where ears are listening. For now, let's change locations. I've reserved a conference room at the Explorer's Guild branch."
How troublesome... What was this fox thing, anyway?
At this point, I still didn't really understand the important parts. I'd meant to ask, but since it was about something unpleasant, I kept putting it off.
I knew they were a dangerous enough organization to attempt assassinating the Emperor, but secret societies were basically beyond my ability to handle, so I couldn't really grasp how dangerous they were.
Actually, wait—between the fellowship and the Treasure Hall, had "the fox" become trendy lately? How many organizations were there? Could they make this any clearer?
Why not just find them and burn them down? What did they expect me to do?
Oh, I know—you're going to say "even if you refuse, we need your help," right?
Gaark and the old lady probably didn't have enough support personnel. I'd lend them Anthem. Just give him back soon.
Since I absolutely couldn't say any of that out loud, I conducted the debate silently in my head—when Citry chimed in.
"Ah, about that. Gaark, that matter has already been taken care of."
Wh—what!?
"Oh? You told Citry?"
"......We didn't talk about it. I just read between the lines."
I leaned hard toward Citry.
The reliable brain of my party looked at me with sparkling eyes.
I didn't know exactly what had happened, but somehow Citry had already made all the preparations. As expected of Citry—thank you, as always!
...But was it really okay?
Citry flashed a confident grin.
"True professionals finish before they even begin."
"Heh heh... Not bad, little girl."
Despite my anxiety, Citry provoked the old woman with an adorable expression.
Well, when it came to things ending before they even started, there was probably no one who could match me—in a bad way, that is.
Gaze met gaze. Lucia stood silently, watching.
That's right. When you didn't know anything, staying quiet was the way to go.
Gaark forced a strained smile and spoke in a low voice.
"What did you do, Klye? Explain in detail."
"I didn't do anything. Right?"
It was Citry who'd done it. But when had she made these preparations? How had she sensed something I hadn't even mentioned? He tipped his hat to her insight.
Had she been busy since arriving in this city because of the preparations? Even though she'd been busy preparing fried tofu the whole time, Citry was truly amazing.
Citry was incredible. Citry was truly amazing.
"Everything is already in the palm of Klye's hand."
...I was the type to flip my palm over and over, but was it really okay?
She wasn't just saying things at random, was she? It'd be bad if she later said "just kidding."
Those worries flashed through my mind for an instant, but I trusted Citry.
"Yeah, yeah. Right."
"And then, Klye is going to gift me the organization!"
Gaark and the old woman looked at me simultaneously.
Somehow, Citry was in an even more dangerous mood than usual. She was intelligent but also loved jokes, so it was impossible to tell where the joke ended and reality began.
Had I said that? I had absolutely no memory of it, and I couldn't even imagine how I'd go about gifting them some organization.
I averted my eyes from the excited Citry and chickened out.
"...Well, jokes aside... we've already done everything we can on our end—well, Citry has. There's nothing more I can do, so you two do whatever you want on your side."
Citry's power was my power.
As I tried to smooth things over with my usual half-hearted approach, chest puffed out, Gaark furrowed his brow and leaned forward.
"Klye. So what you're saying is... you also fully understand what those people have obtained and what they're planning to do in this city?"
Seriously, how persistent... There was nothing more I could say.
"Yeah, yeah. Right... ...Huh?"
I felt like I'd just heard something I shouldn't have ignored...
By the time I blinked, Gaark had clicked his tongue loudly and settled back.
"Damn it, Klye—where the hell are you getting your information from? We've been trying for years and couldn't get anything, and only recently got a few scraps, and yet—"
"Wha!? ...Eva...?"
Sorry, Eva... the words just came out on their own. But being pressed on this would be trouble. I was truly sorry.
"Oh yeah? No matter how good your organization's intelligence network is, there's no way the information we spent years to finally get would just be handed over so easily—"
Just as Gaark got that far, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He hurriedly pulled it out to check.
He'd gotten used to handling this Treasure Weapon by now. Lucia, who made sure he charged it every day without fail, looked annoyed.
Gaark watched me fiddle with my phone mid-conversation with a strained expression.
But the rule was to check immediately when there was a call. Under the gazes of the old woman and Gaark, I read the message aloud.
"Um... 'Fried tofu now??'"
What did "now" even mean...?
The attached photo showed a familiar kitchen and an empty plate.
No matter how many times I rubbed my eyes, it was clearly the room Citry had prepared.
...Wait—could it be... she came here?
She'd been sending photos from time to time, but given the distance from the desert, how had she— Wait wait wait—this was bad! That little fox sister was technically a Phantom. If this kept up, Sora might end up being turned into fried tofu as a joke.
This was no time to worry about secret organizations.
"Sorry, something urgent came up. I need to leave right away."
That said, I wasn't planning to just blow them off.
This time around, I felt it would be better to actually listen to what they had to say.
I'd heard some ominous words, and including whatever Citry had set up, I wanted to properly align our understanding.
But right now, people's lives came first.
I'd set aside time later to discuss everything properly with Citry and all—wait. Was I... being surprisingly leader-like?
While I was thinking that, Gaark clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Shit—fine, whatever. Do what you want. Every damn time, you do whatever the hell you want without saying a word—but as long as you get results, I won't complain. We'll handle our side."
Wha!? No—I wanted to properly discuss things and coordinate our actions...
Trying not to show my panic on my face, I heard a sharp sizzling sound—something evaporating right in front of me.
The Abyssal Extinguisher was pointing her skeletal finger at me.
Her fingertip flickered several times. The flashes she fired evaporated just centimeters from my eyes in rapid succession. Since the Barrier Ring hadn't reacted, it must have been Lucia who'd blocked them.
The Abyssal Extinguisher blew on her smoking fingertip and said: "Alright, fine. I owe you one. I'm not without a sense of propriety—I'll let you take the credit this time, Thousand Transformations. Besides, thinking things through was never really my forte..."
Before I could process anything in my confusion, the old woman stood up.
Her back was ramrod straight—unbelievable for someone her age. She was even a little taller than me, and I'd heard that in her youth, she was often mistaken for a Spiritfolk.
I didn't recall ever owing her a debt, but I wished she'd stop greeting me with an attack. Lucia was shooting annoyed glances, but the old woman was completely unrepentant.
Her voice was hoarse, but the heat lurking within couldn't be concealed. Her eyes blazed with the same fire as Liliz's.
This woman was supposed to be well past retirement age—when would she ever actually retire?
The Abyssal Extinguisher showed a grin that looked like something out of a monster movie. Her voice carried an authority that brooked no argument.
"But this—it's a festival. When the time comes, give me the signal, Thousand Transformations. I dragged these old bones all the way out here, you know. I have scores to settle with Terum. Got it?"
"Ah, yes."
"Tch. Hey, Klye. Make sure you don't slack off on the Martial Emperor Festival either. If someone from our branch wins, I'll be the one bragging."
The old woman strode off, and Gaark clicked his tongue before following after her.
She was like a storm. Utterly domineering—Gaark had been completely cowed. Apparently, the old woman had been an experienced hunter even back when Gaark had just started out, so that dynamic probably played a role.
Did hunters normally talk about "revenge"? As for me, I could only pray that Lucia wouldn't turn out like that.
Gaark had been pretty bad himself about saying whatever he wanted.
...But I hadn't even gotten to hear what they had to say.
A new photo arrived on my phone. It showed Sora, confused but continuing to make fried tofu.
No good—I needed to solve this starting from the simpler parts first.
Why did everything always turn into a mess right after coming to see the Martial Emperor Festival?
§ § § The White Fox Lord was a terrifying person. That was what she had always been taught.
In lessons, in daily prayers, in the lullabies she'd been sung as a child.
Power, wisdom, luck, charisma, caution—and a cruelty that rivaled the gods.
The Nine-Tailed Shadow Fox was a secret organization. Priests like Sora were granted special authority, but it was not a religious organization.
Originating as the intelligence agency of a now-defunct nation, it had grown over the generations through the extraordinary skill of its Boss.
It absorbed many brilliant criminals and talented people dissatisfied with their nations, honed its techniques, took root in various countries, and grew—quietly, but certainly.
The thoroughness was staggering: not a single person in the outside world had ever perceived the fox's existence until it had accumulated power great enough to matter.
The fox mask was merely a symbol. Only a tiny fraction of the organization's members truly believed in the Fox God.
The mask the Boss had first brought back was a special artifact to Sora and the others who served the Fox God. And the Boss needed a banner—a great cause—under which everyone would gather.
As a result, the organization was born. An unshakeable structure that would not waver no matter how many years passed.
The white fox mask bestowed by God was the mark of the Boss.
The organization's leadership was not hereditary. Within, fierce competition was always underway.
Therefore—the Boss was the strongest in the organization.
No one knew what criteria were used to select the Boss, but at the very least, no weakling had ever risen to the position.
The organization's wealth, power, and technology made the Boss the strongest.
A terrifying existence that even high-level hunters who'd absorbed Mana Materials couldn't handle.
Among the priests, only a handful had ever seen the Boss.
No one knew where the Boss was, and in truth, there was rarely an opportunity to even verify whether the Boss was real.
Sora had never seen the Boss before. She had always longed to behold that figure.
But she hadn't truly believed in that supremacy.
That was why, when she first found the White Fox Lord and felt no power from the figure at all, she hadn't questioned it one bit.
Tragic as it was, it wasn't until she'd been manipulated into revealing the truth herself that she caught on.
She resolved to do everything she could. The White Fox Lord who appeared was an imposter, but the mask was real.
She told herself that serving the imposter was a proper duty for a priest—as long as she never faced the real thing.
The real thing was on another level entirely. Greater than any rumor she'd heard beforehand.
One look, and the disparity in presence was understood from the depths of one's soul.
Sora had been trained to always maintain composure, but the aura from this person shattered her in an instant—it truly felt as though they weren't the same species.
From height and voice, the Boss seemed younger than Sora, but age was irrelevant.
Disguise was impossible. Excuses were impossible.
For even a moment to try to misrepresent the situation—that would have made her a fool.
Before this power, someone as insignificant as Sora could only prostrate herself and await judgment.
The Boss spoke in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Hurry. Next. Make."
"Y-yes... Boss."
But, however, and yet—right now, Sora was being made to frantically produce fried tofu at the Boss's command.
It made no sense. This feeling could no longer be captured by a word like "confusion."
Right now, Sora was in the kitchen the false fox lord had prepared, making fried tofu at the real White Fox Lord's demand—just as she'd been ordered by the imposter.
She moved her hands ceaselessly, dropping tofu into the oil. A cold gaze watched her every movement.
Her heart was pounding as though it might explode. She didn't understand why, but if she stopped—she would be killed.
The false fox lord, in retrospect, had been considerably lenient. She'd ordered Sora around but hadn't forced her, and there'd been no intimidation. But the real one was different.
The finished fried tofu vanished one after another into the White Fox Lord's mouth. The White Fox Lord carefully licked the plate clean, then glared at Sora.
"Like this, you can't take the world. Next."
"!?"
The words were exactly the same as the imposter's. It felt as though she'd been tricked by a fox.
But this time's White Fox Lord was unmistakably real. The power she felt was different.
Timidly, Sora confirmed: "Um... how exactly does one... take the world... with fried tofu..."
"...Inari sushi... bento? Make."
The White Fox Lord checked something on a board similar to what the false White Fox Lord had carried—the false one had called it a smartphone, right?
"!? Ehhh!? Wait—that was actually real!?"
"Hurry. Next. If you don't make it fast, I might turn you into fried tofu... I can't, deny that possibility."
"!???"
Her voice carried an intensity that made it unmistakably clear she meant what she said.
Where did truth end and lies begin?
The false fox lord was an imposter, yet she'd said the same things...? Sora's mind couldn't keep up.
In the end, who was the one at fault?
The White Fox Lord produced a sofa from seemingly nowhere, flopped down on it, and began fiddling with a smartphone—her white legs, still clad in the pure-white robes of a fox spirit, dangling off the edge and bouncing about.
The sofa floated gently into the air, and Sora's eyes widened involuntarily.
There was no sense of magic, but this must be the Boss's power—comparable to a Level 10 Hunter.
The Boss looked down at Sora from the floating sofa.
"Hurry. Stop staring. Make."
"Um... Boss, didn't you come here for the operation?"
The information Gaf had given Sora was extremely limited.
There was apparently some major operation in Creet. For that purpose, Gaf and the others had secretly swapped Treasure Weapons and come to this city.
Right now, they were focused on eliminating the organizations drawn to this city, but that wasn't the true mission they'd been given.
Originally, the reason Sora, a priest, was nearby was that there'd been intelligence suggesting the Boss might make a stop here.
For the Boss to come personally, the operation must be enormous. She had no time to be wasting time frying tofu.
As Sora timidly confirmed based on the few hints she had, the true Fox Lord said flatly: "That doesn't matter. Make."
"!? Actually, the false White Fox Lord..."
"...Fried tofu. Now."
It was no good. This person listened even less than the imposter.
She truly was terrifying. How had someone like this grown the organization to such heights?
Why fried tofu, of all things? Why make Sora do it? How many did she need to make?
The ingredients the false fox lord had prepared were still plentiful. There was no time to complain about the oil splashing and the heat.
Could this be punishment?
For being deceived into making fried tofu, the punishment was to make fried tofu forever.
A punishment where she'd be made to do the same thing the false fox lord had forced her to do, just to torment her.
Or was it a joke? Was the Nine-Tailed Shadow Fox the kind of organization that made such jokes?
If they were going to execute her, she wished they'd just get it over with.
Just as her thoughts spiraled into complete bewilderment, the door burst open.
The real Boss looked over from the sofa.
The one who entered was the cause of Sora's predicament—the false fox lord.
She wasn't wearing a mask anymore, so she wasn't even a fox at this point, but Sora couldn't help crying out: "!! N-no, you can't, False Fox Lord! Right now, the real one is—"
What exactly was she warning about? She was, after all, on the organization's side.
She should have assumed her lies had already been exposed. If so, the imposter's arrival was actually convenient.
Her breath caught. Under Sora's watchful, frozen gaze, the real and the false locked eyes.
Even the renowned Thousand Transformations couldn't possibly defeat this Boss. The amount of Mana Material consumed was on a different level entirely.
And then Sora noticed.
Even upon meeting the real thing, the false fox lord's expression showed no trace of shock.
After a brief silence, the false fox lord pointed a finger and shouted: "Hey! What are you doing here, you thieving fox! I'll say it too! When I have something to say, I say it! I'll tell Big Brother Fox! What happened to the desert?! Be worshipped properly! Stop making someone fry tofu! Sora's pitiful, you know!"
"!???"
Wha... wait...? Were they acquainted?!
The false fox lord was a fake, but she had a relationship with the real one? What was going on?
They didn't look like enemies. If they were, they wouldn't be talking. The real White Fox Lord tapped away at her phone, and the false one's phone buzzed and vibrated.
Sora had been wondering what she was doing, but it seemed they were communicating. Eh? Ehh? Huh?
"Fried tofu will? What's 'will'? And if you want to eat them that badly, why don't you fry them yourself!?"
"...!!"
The White Fox Lord clapped her hands together, hopped off the sofa, and pushed Sora aside. She pulled tofu from the ingredient box and began frying it herself.
Looking closely, a supple tail extended from her hindquarters. There had been no sign of it moments ago—when had it appeared? Did the Boss have not just a mask but also a tail?
The tail swished back and forth. A wave of exhaustion washed over Sora.
The false fox lord entered the room, wiped her forehead, and said with a sheepish grin: "Thank goodness. That's one thing settled."
"What... what even are you?"
She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't know what to believe.
What was she supposed to do? What had been resolved? What did this person want?
The real White Fox Lord peered into the frying pan with a serious expression. The false White Fox Lord blinked with a clueless look on her face.
Watching the two of them, Sora felt something inside her cracking and falling apart.