Chapter 17

Sleep had come and gone.

Instead of dozing off beside Carisia, I decided to sit in the chair and organize my thoughts.

Her faint breathing was delicate, almost like white noise—pleasant enough that it could serve as background work music.

“The board members.”

Until now, there hadn’t been much reason to overthink the actions of the board members. After all, the Kreton project that made Hydra Corp a target for our group had already been taken care of in advance.

But with the establishment of this unheard-of “Divine Investigation Office” and my appointment as its sole member and director, I needed to reconsider things.

“How can I minimize my workload?”

Ideally, the board members would mobilize their respective organizations to gather divine-related items, and I’d simply compile their reports without ever stepping foot outside the office—a perfect setup for quietly stealing my paycheck.

“But do they even have the capability to investigate such items?”

Among the personnel Hydra Corp could deploy, Caike is likely the closest to having expertise in divine matters.

His experience exploring ascension across two of the Ten Towers would be invaluable. However, he’s a key player in the three-way drama unfolding in Etna City, so I can’t risk pulling him out.

Geryon is also out for similar reasons. What about Carisia?

If I asked the Chairman to “go on a business trip,” I’d probably get a laugh in response: “Hahaha, this kid has lost it.” It’s better if I handle it myself.

“Just me and Carisia?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea…”

Going on a business trip with your boss? Manageable enough.

Going on a business trip alone with your boss? Awkward, but work is work.

But what if that boss is the Chairman?

‘That wouldn’t work.’

I crossed out Caike and Geryon, and now Carisia too. Bertrand isn’t suitable for external missions.

Arabel’s body isn’t suited for rough fieldwork either; she’d struggle to recharge in harsh conditions. She’s more like a desktop computer that needs proper cooling systems rather than a portable laptop.

In the end, only the less reliable candidates remain.

Mecoonion, the drug dealer, or Taros, the mutant often treated like a monster—both are difficult to send out into the open. That leaves three board members.

Divius, the illegal human modification specialist, has managed to evade capture despite being wanted in various places. He occasionally handles post-care for his “clients,” showing some skill in survival and information gathering. Let’s put him on hold for now.

The hunter Neuro and beastmaster Demedes might seem similar at first glance, but there’s a significant difference between them.

Demedes raises beasts by feeding them humans, specializing in hunting people from the Bacchus Cult. On the other hand, Neuro specializes in what most people think of when they hear “hunting”—eliminating harmful creatures. While he sometimes hunts humans with bounties on their heads, most of his targets are monstrous beings mutated by extraplanar magic, just like the majority of hunters in Etna City’s Guild.

A man who commands beasts that hunt humans versus a human who hunts beasts—their relationship naturally leans toward rivalry.

Considering social skills, Neuro seems the most suitable for external activities, but since most of those who possess relics are likely human, Demedes also becomes an attractive option.

‘Perhaps I should start by getting some leads from Mecoonion.’

According to Mecoonion herself, among her trading partners, there were those who mentioned the vanished gods.

The question is whether these individuals are genuine followers of old doctrines who might actually possess relics or merely drug addicts using the name of a god as a cover.

In the end, I’ll have to go out and verify this myself. Requesting direct cooperation from the board members would just waste time and resources.

Since today’s a holiday, Mecoonion should still be in her lair.

I’ll need to visit her directly. The morning after sunrise should be a good time.

Unlike Carisia, I have a sense of time.

After neatly folding the scribbled-on paper, I found myself with nothing else to do. There were still about three hours until sunrise.

I might as well pass the time watching Carisia.

***

Mecoonion took pride in her lair, filled with colorful mists.

As a half-alraune, her abilities allowed plants to bloom out of season and produce unnatural hybrids.

Opium-laden poppies mingling with coca leaves created bizarre hybrid plants. Not only did they contain narcotics, but they were infused with magical properties, making them rare and potent herbs.

When properly refined and subtly burned, their vapors painted the air in vivid hues, offering blissful hallucinations to the denizens of her cavern.

This was a natural paradise steeped in happiness, far superior to instant pleasures delivered by illusion spells or electronic drugs via neural interfaces.

Lazily lounging in her haven was one unwelcome visitor.

“You enjoy the scent, I see.”

“Wanna light up?”

A flower hanging from Mecoonion’s green hair withered and transformed into a perfect cigarette. Its sweet yet dizzying aroma filled the air.

This Alraunepin, crafted from her own body’s flowers, was among the finest products she handled. For someone without tolerance, inhaling its fragrance alone could induce ecstatic unconsciousness.

Ortes simply smiled gently and waved his hand.

“No thank you. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I’m here on business.”

“Ah yes. That kind of person.”

Her languid reply came as she reviewed the information she’d purchased from Arabel.

‘Able-bodied but slippery, though his core devotion to Carisia borders on fanaticism…’

Having witnessed countless moths burning themselves in pursuit of pleasure, Mecoonion knew all too well how human belief could be more dangerous than indulgence.

That Alraunepin cigarette was a bait to gauge Ortes.

There were generally three types of people who remained unaffected by Alraunepin.

First, terminal patients whose pleasure thresholds had already been destroyed beyond recovery.

Second, powerful mages with such control over their physical bodies that they resisted the flower’s allure.

Lastly, those so deeply devoted to something else that they regarded pleasure as trivial.

Simply put, these were people with minds impaired in some way.

Ortes clearly wasn’t the first type. Though he seemed like the second category—a mage—he should have shown signs of purging toxins through his breath or preparing purification spells upon entering.

His steady, faint smile since arriving hinted at the third possibility.

Such types were impossible to sway. There was no way to shake their blind loyalty to Carisia.

Should she aim for Carisia instead? Even setting aside whether Carisia could be tempted, the chances of surviving the journey past Ortes were slim.

‘Really. I’m glad I didn’t fight.’

Mecoonion’s lair attracted numerous addicts willing to risk their lives for a taste of her Alraunepin.

Yet, when Ortes and Carisia turned Etna City upside down, she chose to bow low and wait for the storm to pass.

She’d been lucky. Organizations like Kreton’s and Demedes’ beasts that dared challenge Ortes and Carisia met grim fates. The state of the Lernian Tower was proof enough that resistance was folly.

“I don’t wish to disturb your day off further. Can you provide me with information about the followers of the old gods?”

“I was already preparing it after yesterday’s meeting. Here.”

Internally sighing in relief, Mecoonion handed over the data. She’d prepared it just in case, based on Arabel’s warning that Ortes’ management style resembled the Chairman’s.

She hadn’t expected him to actually show up on a holiday to demand information. Perhaps she should consider this brief window of time a mercy.

“Oh, I thought this would take at least a couple of hours. You’re quick.”

His seemingly innocent praise grated.

‘Wait. Is this really just a compliment on fast preparation?’

Typically, such transactions held client confidentiality as sacred. In that context, Ortes’ insistence on straightforward information bordered on coercion.

‘Was this a test of loyalty? A choice between rebellion or compliance against that dictatorial decree?’

The compliment she received now was less about maintaining trust with clients and more about choosing loyalty to Hydra Corp.

Realizing she’d just narrowly escaped a life-threatening situation, Mecoonion feigned nonchalance as she casually waved him off—an action perhaps too brusque for a subordinate addressing the organization’s second-in-command.

Nevertheless, Ortes bowed slightly and quietly left.

Indeed, as long as tasks were completed on time, he seemed indifferent to anything else, true to his reputation.

Seeing him retreat after the deliberate provocation, Mecoonion drank some chilled water to calm her nerves.

“Hmph. Obsessed with the Chairman, aren’t you…”

Though their encounter was brief, the tension had been heavy. She’d need several hours of aromatic meditation to regain her peace of mind.

***

“…So. Was this why you left your room during your holiday?”

It was the first thing said to me upon returning home, impressed by Mecoonion’s efficient handling of the matter.

Carisia’s voice still came from within my quarters.

“Didn’t you yourself tell everyone, including the Chairman, to rest this morning? And yet—.”

Carisia, what’s the problem this time? Your reproachful gaze feels piercing.

“Preparations for the job starting the day after tomorrow. I need to verify things before assigning tasks to the board members.”

With a soft sigh, Carisia leaned closer.

“It seems the one who needs to listen to ‘rest’ isn’t me, but you.”

I shrugged. You know exactly why I can’t rest.

While skimming through the USB data, Carisia pulled a chair behind me.

“So, do you think they’re truly believers in a god?”

“Seems so. Their behavior aligns with Bacchus’ tendencies—smoking drugs and tearing people apart.”

Bacchus, the god of pleasure, revelry, and wine. His suspected followers were a traveling theater troupe that regularly visited Etna City.

Not ordinary circus performers, they specialized in extreme and bizarre shows involving illicit electronic drugs or android disassembly performances.

“We’ll need to confirm whether they’re genuine priests or just amateurs playing with old myths.”

Their visits to Etna City occurred roughly every two months. The next one was…

Coincidentally, next week.