“Huh...??”
Hwaru flinched in surprise—because the payment was way better than most assassination contracts.
“Managing the Empire’s distribution of the Pink Pill...? Us?”
“Head Professor Wilhelm’s side already laid out all the guidelines and framework. All you have to do is sit and stamp a few documents.”
“Ah...”
Forte also blinked slowly. It was bigger than expected. The explosive impact of the Pink Pill was even greater than when the complete erectile dysfunction cure debuted fifty years ago. Hiaka’s pharmaceutical companies were skyrocketing in power—there was no ceiling in sight.
They were doubling in size almost every week!
“As I said.”
“Hm?”
“Leave it to us.”
It was Dominic who accepted the task, adjusting his glasses with a solemn gleam.
To be fair, the three of them had just failed yet again—held back from graduation because they hadn’t achieved any notable results during their last Empire-side mission.
Lately, they’d been wondering whether they were even cut out for assassination anymore...
This felt like a golden opportunity.
“W-We’ll do our best...!”
“We’ll give it everything we’ve got.”
And so, the Three Idiots got roped into another journey to the Empire under Dante’s command.
While living there... each of them would come face to face with startling truths.
***
[What Forte Discovered]
'This place...'
Forte thought hard.
'Is this... heaven?'
He decided then and there—he wanted to manage distribution networks for the rest of his life and retire peacefully.
......
He woke up at 11 a.m.
Already a win.
Assassins usually had to wake up at midnight or before dawn.
He’d eat a nice meal at a nearby brunch spot. (Meal stipend included.)
This was also fantastic, especially compared to the flavorless ration packs assassins were normally given.
As for the job itself? At most, it meant driving around to a few factories or logistics centers, pretending to listen in on meetings, and stamping some paperwork.
All the responsibility fell to Head Professor Wilhelm, so his workday ended around 3 p.m.
'This is amazing.'
Way better than living out of a cramped van for days or even months just to kill a target.
Of course, not everyone welcomed him warmly at first.
“Young brat thinks he can manage anything...”
“Isn’t he Hiakan? What’s someone like that doing in charge here?”
Young. A foreigner. Hiakan. For those reasons and more, Forte was occasionally looked down on.
Until one day, he overheard this conversation:
“Hey, that manager guy...”
“Yeah?”
“They say he’s a direct disciple of Professor Dante... Doesn’t that make him some kind of elite assassin?”
'Huh?'
“Don’t even get me started. Professor Dante’s only ever publicly acknowledged one disciple. She’s currently ranked fifth in the capital league. At age twenty-two.”
“Who?”
“Elize.”
“Wha—!! That Elize is Professor Dante’s student?? Then this manager guy must be...”
“Right. Probably a total monster underneath.”
And just like that, the rumors began to spread!
'But I’m a flunked cadet...'
In fact, he’d repeated two years at the academy...!
Still, things got a lot easier after that.
One time, when Forte thought he was alone, he glanced at a “Safety First” sign that resembled a bullseye. Feeling nostalgic, he pointed at it with his finger and said, “Bang.”
At that moment, a worker—who had been hiding nearby—saw him and dramatically collapsed, screaming “Aaack!” in fake terror.
“......”
'The taste of fear-based power...!!'
During this blissful life, Forte’s faith in Professor Dante began to swell.
'Just... what kind of man is Professor Dante...'
With more free time, Forte couldn’t shake his assassin instincts. He began quietly sweeping the city, from the rooftops down to the sewers—like a sewer rat.
That’s when he found something strange.
'What is this?'
Every night, countless citizens were seen moving underground.
At first, it seemed random—they got in cars and dispersed throughout the city.
But after acquiring a 3D map of the area and tracking the patterns for several days, Forte confirmed it: they were all heading underground.
He even witnessed several people entering dry sewer systems and vanishing below.
'Where the hell are they all going?'
It wasn’t just a few.
Confirmed: over several hundred. Nearly a thousand citizens acting suspiciously, en masse.
He stayed curious for days.
Then one night, Forte disguised himself and slipped into their ranks.
Wearing a pitch-black hood pulled low over his head.
“Let’s go. It’s time.”
“We live under grace again today. Let’s.”
People began descending deeper—deeper—into the earth. Forte followed silently, weaving through water channels toward the end of the sewer.
What could they be doing so far underground?
And in such numbers?
“I’ll check now.”
“Yes.”
But progress wasn’t easy. A hulking man in a hood started inspecting everyone’s wrists.
Only after checking did he let people through.
When Forte’s turn came, he quickly activated [Stealth] and vanished, crawling across the ceiling past the distracted guard.
'What the hell is this? Why such tight security?'
The atmosphere grew more and more suspicious.
Finally, he emerged into a massive, brilliantly lit underground plaza.
Far larger than he expected.
'This place...'
And there, just as Forte feared, nearly a thousand people were gathered—heads bowed toward a wall.
It had the eerie aura of a religious gathering.
Forte turned his head and looked.
After spotting the giant scroll hanging on the wall... he froze.
'Ah!'
❆
[What Hwaru Discovered]
At around the same time, stationed in a different branch, Hwaru was enjoying a life not too different from Forte’s.
'Hmmm... Can I really be getting paid to relax like this...?'
Shouldn’t I be living a little more intensely?
'But this is still a commission, right?'
After all, at the Black Abyss’s elementary academy, they trained us by whipping our backs like belts. This easy lifestyle was starting to feel unsettling...
'Still, I’m an assassin... aren’t I?'
Though she’d been held back because she was too bad at assassination... still.
'I guess nice things... are nice...?'
Unlike the other two, Hwaru had an extra task assigned to her.
The city she was stationed in had a large bandit outpost nearby, so the local Guard was especially strong.
As distribution manager, maintaining cooperation with the Guard was important—so she often had to visit Central HQ.
“I’m here~~”
Carrying two baskets, she cheerfully greeted them.
“Oh! Welcome, Manager! Hey, you brats! The Hiaka Pharma Manager is here!”
“Ooooh! Welcome!!”
And just like that, the guards flooded out to meet her. Hwaru was practically treated like a princess there. In a place full of grim-faced men, her bright, bunny-like expression—and the snacks she always brought—made her the highlight of the day.
Even now, the moment she handed over the baskets, they all grinned ear-to-ear. Hwaru giggled and chatted with them as always.
But today, there was someone among them she hadn’t seen before.
An old man—at least a hundred years old—dressed in a severely worn Guard uniform from a past era, leaning on a cane and trembling as he spoke with the others.
“Hmm? Who’s that?”
“Ah, that’s Grandpa Majayong.”
Grandpa... Majayong?
“He’s about 120 now. Retired from the Guard about sixty years ago. He’s got dementia and still thinks he’s on active duty.”
“Used to be hard sending him home every morning, but eventually we all just decided to pretend he’s still one of us.”
Hwaru nodded, understanding.
And as for why they called him “Majayong”?
The answer was... rather simple.
“You—who are you again?”
“Johnson, sir!”
“Correct! Heehee. And you—what’s your name?”
“Valentino, sir!”
“Correct!! Heeheehee!”
And it wasn’t just people.
“What’s this thing?”
“A gun!”
“More details!”
“Drake & Robbs Bellita 150!”
“Majayong! Haha! You got it right!”
The old man spent his days identifying everything and everyone—and getting delighted when he did.
Huhhh?
Hwaru tilted her head.
Why was he doing that?
A nearby Guard explained.
“Grandpa Majayong used to be an illusion inspector.”
“Ahh?”
“Back then, illusion magic mostly targeted vision. Inspectors had to constantly check whether something was real or not. He did that job for nearly 40 years.”
“Wowww...”
Back in one of Professor Dante’s illusion lectures, he explained:
There are two ways [Illusion] affects a person’s heart.
One: instinctual shock.
Death. The unknown. Violence. Sex. Betrayal of trust. Vastness. Speed. Ascension. These things rattle the soul.
Two: time.
If your mother falls in a weird position while walking, the event itself isn’t traumatic—but because it’s your mother, the heart stirs. Because she’s the one you've spent the longest time with.
'Long time...'
A life spent as an illusion inspector had dug so deep into his subconscious that it still guided him—dementia or not.
“So if you give the wrong answer when he asks ‘who are you?’ he gets super mad.”
“Haha! That’s because, from his inspector’s perspective, things have to be correct, huh?”
“Exactly.”
Hwaru laughed.
“Hey! You there, young lady!”
Suddenly, the old man pointed at her.
Startled!
“Y-Yes!”
“Who are you?”
Me?
Hwaru?
But... would he even know?
She glanced around—and got a hint from a Guard. Say you’re his granddaughter! Aha!
“I’m your granddaughter! Grandpa’s granddaughter!”
The old man broke into a huge, wrinkled grin.
“Correct, correct! Heeheehee! My lovely bunny granddaughter. Just seeing you makes me happy!”
“Ehehe...”
“This world, hmm? Needs to become a place where you can live happily! Heehee!”
“Ehehehe...”
Hwaru beamed, delighted.
“Oops!”
As # Nоvеlight # he turned, the old man lost his balance, his cane slipping. “Sir!” The guards panicked.
With assassin-trained reflexes, Hwaru dropped the management documents and rushed to catch him.
'That was close...'
In the process, the document folder opened.
The first page flipped into view.
“Oof, oof... Sorry! That was my mistake. Still got a long way to go, but I must’ve stepped wrong.”
“No worries, Grandpa.”
As the old man stood up, his eyes landed on the management document.
At the bottom of the first page were the pharmaceutical company’s board members. At the top, the photos of the final decision-makers: one for Primary, one for Secondary.
The Primary’s photo was blank.
But the Secondary’s was shown.
“Who is this! Who is this man!?”
Grandpa Majayong went back into inspector mode, pointing at the photo with his cane.
The face he pointed to was one we all knew very well.
Our professor’s.
Hwaru glanced at the guards nervously.
“He’s your grandson, Grandpa. Your grandson.”
Grandson?
Hwaru chuckled internally.
Guess if they don’t know, just claim family—it tends to work.
But the old man suddenly scowled—and asked her again.
“Who is this man? Who?!”
So this time, Hwaru tilted her head and answered.
“Professor Dante Hiakapo!”
Grandpa Majayong responded:
“That’s not right.”
The smile vanished.
“...Huh?”
“That’s not Dante Hiakapo.”
Hwaru glanced toward the guards in alarm. This time, they were startled too, exchanging glances.
The old man, eyes unfocused, muttered in a sunken voice:
“That’s the Chief of Security.”