"What do you mean, Princess Orlea has escaped!"
Marquis de Debussy bellowed.
Unable to contain his anger, he pointed his hand at the fawning servant who had brought him the news.
The man's cheeks flushed with color, and he bowed his head in disgrace.
Marquis de Debussy pursed his lips at the sight, and was about to strike another blow, but barely held back his anger.
"What is the situation?"
"It's......."
"Don't dilly-dally, tell me straight!"
"The plan went according to plan. Except that a fixer got in the way and ruined everything......."
"What? A fixer?"Marquis de Debussy looked like he'd heard something he didn't understand.
At the same time, he asked, just in case.
"Who was that fixer?"
"You may remember, Marquis, the swordsman with the black coat and black hair."
The Marquis' eyes widened.
Even he, a nobleman to the bone, had been intimidated by the man he'd first met.
"And he helped Princess Orlea escape?
Marquis de Debussy wondered if there was some other sort of conspiracy at work here.
Seeing the seriousness in his expression, his subordinate hastily spoke up to reassure him.
"Well, the military will take care of it, so it should be fine, just wait a little longer......."
"The military made a mistake, and you expect me to trust them again? Don't you realize how important this matter is?"
Marquis de Debussy' words silenced his subordinate.
The Marquis was still fuming, and he continued to rant.
"With this incident, we would be able to replenish our arsenal, receive support from neighboring countries, and circulate even more funds! Not just a billion, but trillions, and it's all going to be for naught now, and what, wait?!"
Deciding that now was not the time, Marquis de Debussy moved.
"We're going."
"Yes, yes?"
"The princess has been kidnapped by the Fixer. Of course we must go rescue her."
The quick-thinking subordinate immediately bowed.
"Yes, sir. I'll mobilize the entire escort."
"You'll need to find them faster than anyone else. It's been a while since this happened, but I'm sure word has reached the ears of the mayor of Tirna."
If so, there was a good chance they would send a rescue party for the princess Orlea.
If they make a mistake, the assassination of Princess Orlea will fail.
If she survives, there will be no war.
All the money and time he invested will be gone, along with his family name.
Marquis de Debussy had no intention of letting that happen.
*
Just as the military and Marquis de Debussy were worried, news of the attempted assassination of Princess Orlea reached key people in Tirna, especially in the 33rd district, where the incident took place.
"Hmph. Why does this have to happen to me.......?"
Alberto Lorenzo, the prefect of the 33rd district, fought off a throbbing headache by running his fingers across his brow.
He has long, slicked-back blond hair and a goatee that extends from his sideburns to his chin.
He looked quite sturdy and manly for a politician, but his inner thoughts were quite the opposite.
‘If things go wrong, I'm the one to blame.’
The seat of a district prefect is the highest position in the district but that didn't mean he had all the power.
If something went wrong, he'd be the first to get dirty.
"What do you want to do?"
Alberto sank back in his chair when his assistant asked.
"I don't know what to do. We need to keep this as quiet as possible. Put pressure on the media, tell them to stop reporting now."
"There are too many witnesses, and they're not going to stop just because you tell them to stop."
"I'm not suggesting we cover it up. I'm suggesting we delay it as long as possible. We've got three days, and in the meantime, we need to do something."
"What are you going to do?"
"Hmm. We'll have to think about that."
Alberto snapped his fingers.
He may have the size of a lion, but his demeanor was that of a timid man with anxiety.
However the secretary didn't take him lightly.
He had risen to the rank of prefect at a young age.
He had risen to the top of a district not simply because he was good at political lobbying, but purely on the job.
Even with all the grumbling and lamenting, his mind must be working faster than anyone else's right now.
"As much as I'd like to declare a state of emergency......I probably shouldn't."
"Are you going to call in the old National Guard?"
"Uh, no. The military is involved in this in the first place, and we can't let them dictate the flow of information."
"Then......."
"This is a serious matter that could spill over into war if we get it wrong."
A neighboring country's princess has been assassinated.
The kingdoms of Carleon and Tirna are already on bad terms, and now one of their princesses assassinated the moment they send her on a peace mission?
Wouldn't that irreparably damage Tirna's relationship with the Kingdom of Carleon?
"No. Maybe that's what they were aiming for."
"Targeted means......."
"The military had something to do with it. They were supposed to be in charge of the escort, but then something happened."
"So......they intentionally started the war to strengthen their position."
"Well, it's a common occurrence in Tirna. The important thing is that it happened on my watch, and I have to stop it somehow. What's the situation now?"
"A Fixer has rescued Princess Orlea and is currently on the run."
"A fixer?"
Alberto's eyes widened in surprise for the first time.
He'd heard that Princess Orlea wasn't dead, at least not yet, so he'd assumed her faithful bodyguard had protected her.
But a fixer?
One of them?
"Who is that?"
"I don't know, so I checked right away. He's a new fixer who just recently joined the team."
"......New? Am I hearing something wrong?"
It turns out that being a fixer is a freelance job, but the barrier to entry isn't that high.
More than a hundred new fixers appear in the city every day.
It's not uncommon.
It was hard to believe that such a newcomer could be responsible for the great rescue of Princess Orlea.
"Anyway, I've been looking into his recent behavior, and it seems he's not the usual newcomer."
"Not normal?"
"For one thing, his past is too clean. There's no trace."
"Ha. No trace? So what, did he suddenly appear out of thin air?"
The secretary gave him a cold stare, and Alberto held up his hands.
"Okay, I'll stop joking."
"Your ability to keep your wits about you under these circumstances is admirable, but there's a time and a place for it."
"So, if his past is squeaky clean, what about other things?
"Well, according to eyewitness testimony, he has a very noble air about himself."
"......Hmm. Does he come from a noble family somewhere?"
"Most likely, yes. There are many nobles who are pushed out of their families and end up in Tirna, and because of their bloodline, they tend to have great power."
"Hmm. Whatever it is, it's a good thing for us now, because if he saved princess Orlea, that means he's one of us."
Alberto jerked his jaw.
"But I'm worried. The military must have moved faster than we did. I wonder if he'll be able to hold out until then."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Have you contacted the Tea Party?"
"I already have."
"What do they say?"
"They said they have nothing to do with this, unless it involves witches."
"Shit. Send in the guards. Call them, too. Who's the nearest enforcer?"
"Alensia Hare."
"Alensia, yes, she's worthy of trust. Pass it on, and if the situation warrants it, I'll allow [Akpatsu] to be freed."
"But won't that damage the city......."
"It's war if we don't, and I'd rather blow up a few neighborhoods in moderation."
"......I see."
At that moment, a loud commotion was heard outside the door.
"What the hell, what's going on?"
"Apparently, someone came to visit."
"Who would.......at this hour?"
Just as Alberto was wondering, the door slammed open.
At the same time, the secretary burst through the door and lunged at him.
This is a high-security place. Naturally, there are guards all along the way.
However, the opponent opened the door and entered.
The secretary grabbed the fountain pen wedged between the file iron in his hand and swung it at his opponent's carotid artery.
"Stop."
Before the sharp nib touched flesh, the secretary's movements froze in fear of Alberto's command.
There was no stiffness in the pause, even as he lunged. It was as if it had all been a single motion.
"Whoa. I was wondering who the hell you were, and why you were here."
"Am I in a place I shouldn't be?"
"Not that......."
Alberto started to say more, but then shook his head.
The current visitor was a tricky one to deal with. One that not even he, who held a very high position in the city of Tirna, dared to mess with.
"I have some interesting news."
No clothes, no hair, no skin.
Everything is white. The only thing that wasn't white were his golden eyes.
The beautiful woman, the very embodiment of beauty in human terms, smiled.
"I think I can help you with that, don't you?"
At that smile, Alberto felt like a prey in the presence of his natural enemy.
All he could do was scream inside.
Why the hell is this monster here?
*
"Hmm. It's all over this place."
Osian, who had been moving silently with Princess Orlea, narrowed his eyes at the people milling about near the road.
They were all over the place.
He considered sprinting across the rooftops of the buildings as he had before, but he knew they weren't stupid, and they'd probably have all their main forces on the rooftops.
That doesn't leave much room for disguise.
Clothes are not available, and Osian and Orlea have an aura that cannot be concealed.
‘If escape is impossible, we must stall as long as possible.’
The military has done its work, but it is not the will of all of Tirna.
There would be those who would move to stop the war.
All Osian had to do was keep Princess Orlea safe until that reinforcement arrived.
‘In that case, I'd better get as far off the beaten path as possible.’
As he thought this, an eerie sensation made him turn his head.
"What is it?"
Princess Orlea asked, puzzled by Osian's sudden halt.
"......we’re followed."
"Followed, what do you mean, tracked?"
"Besides, these aren't the usual ones. They're fewer in number, but that makes them dangerous."
How the hell does he know that?
Princess Orlea marveled at Osian's uncannily sharp senses.
None of the palace's guards, wizards, or captain of the guard had ever demonstrated such skill.
Of course, if you asked him, Osian had no answer.
It was a kind of instinct, a hunch.
Osian couldn't quite put his finger on how he knew he'd been followed and found but that wasn't what mattered now.
"It's moving."
"Uh, what?"
Osian grabbed Princess Orlea's hand and pulled her along.
Princess Orlea's face flushed red. Words like how dare he touch a royal's body didn't even cross her mind.
All she could think was how large and warm this man's hand was.
Perhaps it was because he was trying to protect her.
Osian and Orlea moved through the alleyways, turning again and again but their pursuers were far better than they thought.
There was someone waiting for them in a vacant lot in an undeveloped neighborhood.
"What, we found them first?"
It was a green-haired woman with piercing eyes and boyishly short hair.
She was lean and toned, tall and fair. She was about eye level with the taller Osian.
She smiled as if she'd been waiting for him, and her teeth were as sharp as shark's teeth.
Osian glanced back.
A woman had just entered the clearing.
She was the polar opposite of the woman before her, sullen and brooding.
She had blue curly-hair and eyes that looked like the depths of the ocean, filled with dark circles.
"What are you doing?" the woman with the green hair said.
"What are you doing? Eat it."
I was afraid to finish the sentence.
With both hands, the curly-haired woman lifted the hem of the puffy navy blue dress skirt she was wearing.
Before I could ask what she was doing.
Poof!
Countless tentacles poured out like a dam had been opened.