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Just after slicing the last of the giant Monoeye Bats in half, the wiry, middle-aged man dressed in ceremonial robes meant for high-ranking clergy loosened his grip on the three-pronged swords fitted over his hands—an unusual weapon known as a jamadhar.

At that moment, the blades that had been spread open in a T-shape snapped together with a sharp click, merging into a single blade.

“Hm…?”

The man drove the weapon’s tip into the ground within arm’s reach and lightly shook his now-free hands. As he surveyed the scattered corpses of stray dogs, feral cats, and wild rats lying around his feet, he took out a cigar from his pocket, lit it using life magic, and twisted his lips into a faint smirk.

“…So it got away. Failing to take it down with the first strike was a costly mistake.”

He had seen that unguarded back just as predicted, but his bloodlust must have leaked out from being unable to fully restrain himself.

Following standard procedure, he had planned to conceal himself under the cover of night and fog, then strike with a precise thrust to the heart from behind, followed by a diagonal slash to finish it cleanly. But because of his own misstep, his prey managed to dodge the fatal blow by a hair’s breadth, and to make things worse, unnecessary interference disrupted the entire operation.

“To top it off, I got bogged down by those damn small animals attacking me one after another.”

When the purple smoke he exhaled swirled around the surrounding corpses, they were instantly engulfed in blue flames and reduced to ash.

“It’s probably a limited Tamer-type skill… but something’s off.”

He glanced around the now pristine street, devoid of any signs of battle, and finally turned his attention toward the direction where his prey had fled, tilting his head in confusion.

“It definitely used some kind of Evil Eye-type superpower¹, and it is impossible to use two different powers at the same time.”

In fact, of all the protective charms sewn into the lining of his ceremonial robes, the only ones that reacted were those meant to counter Magic Eyes and Evil Eyes. Most likely, it was the limited skill known as the Hypnos mentioned in previous reports.

“So, was it the ability of that brat who barged in halfway through? But if that’s the case, why didn’t it devour his ability?”

The man exhaled another twisting trail of purple smoke and muttered to himself, his expression twisted with dissatisfaction.

Either way, this was a failure. To think that an amateur’s interference would prevent him from fulfilling his mission.

Although the boy had been traveling with his target, his movements and presence were entirely those of an amateur. Most likely, he was just an ordinary person unaware of the situation—part of the target’s camouflage to blend into society. Judging him as harmless, the man had made his move, but he never expected the boy to throw himself in harm’s way to protect the target.

Though he had held back at the last moment, it was only barely. Even if the boy didn’t die instantly, judging by the amount of blood lost, he was probably no longer alive by now.

From the desperate behavior the boy displayed at the end, it was hard to believe he was truly allied with his target. So, he must have been a well-meaning bystander. In that case, the whole situation left a particularly bad aftertaste in more ways than one.

“A textbook case of ‘Haste makes waste,’ I suppose… Ugh, have I grown rusty from too much desk work?”

With a sigh of self-reproach, he spat out the cigar onto the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his military-grade boot.

“There’s no doubt I made contact with the target… but it’s hard to call that a fatal blow. And that makes things complicated. If I remember correctly, Experiment No. 8 was also given limited transformation abilities. By now, it’s probably changed its face and is already making its escape.”

He scratched his unkempt hair furiously.

“There likely won’t be another attack, but I should at least head over to the Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters and check on the shrine maidens under their protection…”

“I wanted to stay in the shadows if I could…” he grumbled as he grabbed the jamadhar embedded in the ground, unceremoniously shoving it into the leather sheath strapped to his lower back before starting to walk away.

“If I show up at this hour, that boy Lawrence is going to yap my ears off. Well, I doubt he’d be bold enough to use his ‘Judgment’ ability against me, but having him sniff around for nothing would be a real pain.”

Muttering complaints under his breath, the man—Cardinal Callisto—disappeared into the fog.

For a brief moment, the fog cleared, and he caught sight of the hazy moon hanging just above the eaves of a red-roofed house nearby.

At the same time, the church bells tolled throughout the city, signaling bedtime. And there, with the moon at its back, a single cat rose up on the rooftop, spreading the wings on its back as it let out a soft, “—Meow.”

♢♦♢♦♢

The moment Jill took one look at the boy’s condition—cleanly slashed from his left side to his right shoulder²—her gentle gaze turned into one of urgent seriousness.

“「The Great Healing Hand shall kindle your flame of life.」”

Before anyone could react, Jill stepped forward, and a dazzling sphere of light emerged between her hands.

“「Regenerate」”

The supreme-level healing art, which only a few shrine maidens were capable of performing, was unleashed without hesitation, enveloping the boy’s entire body.

The sheer intensity of the power was palpable that even a swordsman unfamiliar with sacred or magical arts could feel it. Even adventurers like Kaisa and Daniella and the two templar knights, who were presumably accustomed to witnessing miracles performed by priests and shrine maidens alike, trembled with awe and emotion.

“This is incredible. If we were to request such healing from the Church through our household, just how much would the cost be…”

The one who spoke with a strangely practical perspective was Simon’s servant, Emil.

“Well, at the very least, it’d start at five large gold coins or Eunice Lira³ in similar value,” Cestlavie remarked with a casual shrug.

Incidentally, unlike the Graviol Empire, there were no iron coins, half-silver coins, or half-gold coins in the Eunice Theocracy. Their economy was based on copper coins, large copper coins, silver coins, gold coins, large gold coins, and paper currency issued by the Church known as “Eunice Lira.”

One copper coin is roughly equivalent to five imperial iron coins (about fifty yen). A hundred copper coins make up one large copper coin (about five thousand yen). Ten large copper coins make up one silver coin (about fifty thousand yen). Ten silver coins make up one gold coin (about five hundred thousand yen). Ten gold coins make up one large gold coin (about five million yen). From five large gold coins and above, it becomes Eunice Lira.

In other words, the cost of this healing alone would blow away about five to ten years’ worth of a citizen’s annual income. Depending on how you look at it, it’s blatant extortion, but there are plenty of wealthy folks who think it’s a cheap price to pay if money can buy them their lives.

“Will the kid be alright? Sure, his life was saved, but if they hit him with the bill later, he might end up hanging himself,” Kaisa said with a shiver.

In response, the two templar knights flashed cheerful smiles at her.

“Please rest assured. Our Church, in its boundless mercy, also accepts charitable contributions through convenient installments.”
“Of course, after a formal Geas is established, his body and social status will temporarily belong to the Church.”
“And the interest rate is only five percent. —Per month, of course.”

In other words, if the total were five large gold coins, the interest would be two gold coins and five silver coins per month. In thirteen months, that would amount to an additional three large gold coins, two gold coins, and five silver coins.

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“…There’s no way that’s true. If I had such an ability, I think my life would’ve been a little easier.”

If I had such a convenient power, I wouldn’t say I’d have a harem, but at least I’d have had a boyfriend or two, enjoying a sweet, embarrassing student life where we could walk home holding each other’s pinkies—yet the fantasy known as a ‘lover’ never once materialized.

Honestly… All those lovey-dovey couples can just explode already!

“…What do you all think?”
“Probably just a case of not realizing it.”
“Indeed. If she wanted to, destroying one or two countries would be child’s play.”
“In fact, one such person is here with us, despite his current standing.”
“Hahahahaha! Are you talking about me?”
“No, but I don’t think this is a special ability. It’s just what she naturally is.”
“…Which is infuriating, in its own way.”

With an invisible sign reading “Under Deliberation” practically hanging in the air, Deputy Guild Master Tarki, Marina, Emil, Sir Simon, Kaisa, and Eliza are all huddled together, deep in discussion.

Maybe he was getting tired of all the fruitless speculations flying about. Father Lawrence pulled out a black leather-bound Saintess Church scripture from his pocket, placed his right hand over it, and addressed me and Eliza in a solemn tone.

“I would like to confirm this once again. Shrine Maiden Barbara and the Shrine Maiden Princess… No, Shrine Maiden Clara. Can you both swear that your previous statements contain no falsehoods? If you speak the truth, place your right hand on this scripture and speak the words of the vow.”

I couldn’t help but exchange a bewildered glance with Eliza. But since I had nothing to feel guilty about, I decided to put an end to this farce quickly and placed my right hand on the scripture.

Eliza, a half-breath behind me, hastily extended her right hand as well.

““We swear.””

We spoke the vow almost simultaneously—

In that instant, something like an unspoken breeze or a spark of static electricity surged from my right hand through my entire body, passing through me with a wordless sense of discomfort.

“—!?!”

Eliza seemed to feel the same thing, furrowing her brows at the exact same moment.

“Innocent. By the name of the Holy Maiden, your words have been confirmed to hold no falsehood.”

Without changing his expression, Lawrence solemnly nodded and returned the scripture to his pocket. Eliza and I exchanged bewildered looks, as if we’d just been tricked by a fox.

What was that shock just now…?

I was about to ask when a loud, frantic banging sounded from the door.

“It’s terrible! A couple outside the Guild Headquarters was attacked by the ‘Red Ram’! They’re being brought into the hall with injuries. Also, one of them is that newspaper brat we captured earlier today!”

The instant the breathless report was delivered, the tension in the room skyrocketed.

“They’ve shown up at last!”

The templar knights, who had been waiting in anticipation, immediately shifted to combat readiness, turning to Father Lawrence for orders.

“Hmm… The situation is still unclear. Remain on standby for now.” Still seated, Lawrence narrowed his eyes slightly.

“And, uh… About the brat. His injuries seem to be rather severe, so if possible, we’d like to request healing…”

The guild staff’s voice trembled slightly with unease. At his request, Father Lawrence raised one eyebrow silently, while Eliza snapped at Deputy Guild Master Tarki, angrily demanding, “This is the Guild Headquarters, isn’t it? Don’t you even have a doctor!?”

“—I knew you’d do it.”
“Ideally, I’d like you to stay somewhere safe, Princess.”

As I silently rose to my feet, Cestlavie and Kaisa immediately moved to flank me, one in front and one behind.

“W-Wait! Adelheid, are you out of your mind!?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not?”

I shrugged as I replied to the flustered Eliza.

“I suppose we can’t object to the Shrine Maiden’s judgment. Carmine, Dominic, protect Shrine Maiden Clara.”
“ “Understood! Even at the cost of our lives.” ”

Following Father Lawrence’s command, the two templar knights moved to stand on my right side.

“Daniella, indoor combat is your specialty. Stick close to the Princess!”
“Got it, Boss!”

The martial artist of the Twinfang of the Snowy Peak, Daniella, cracked her knuckles as she took position on my left side.

…But cracking your knuckles like that will only make your joints swell, you know.

“Emil, make sure nothing happens to Lady Clara.”
“Your word is my order…”

Finally, Emil lined up behind Daniella, forming a small group around me.

“This is turning into quite the entourage, isn’t it…”

We’re only heading from the third floor to the first floor of the same building, yet somehow, it’s become this grand procession.

“You should try understanding your position better. For a Shrine Maiden of the Holy City, this isn’t nearly enough protection.”

Cestlavie, who was practically glued to me like a shadow, muttered that with the tone of someone lecturing a stubborn child.

“What a hassle… Also, don’t you think you’re standing a little too close?”

Having not bathed for nearly an entire day, I was starting to worry about my body odor, so I couldn’t help but complain.

“Endure it. This kid here’s prepared to become a human shield without hesitation if you’re hit by a surprise attack from behind.” Kaisa glanced back and flashed a wide, toothy grin.

“—It’s nothing. Just a cheap precaution.”

I reflexively turned around, speechless, while Cestlavie responded curtly.

“Ah, youth is a beautiful thing.” Kaisa’s grin twisted into a teasing smirk.

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“So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at it and said:

‘Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back from the forest with her.’

The little kids cried: ‘First show us your paws that we may know you are our dear little mother.’

Then he put his paws in through the window and when the kids saw they were white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door.

But who should come in but the wolf!”
　—Grimms’ Fairy Tales (“The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats”) First Edition (1812)

♢♦♢♦♢

Now then, if I take a look around at everyone gathered here in the “luxurious hotel suite on the outside, fortress command center on the inside” AKA the Thera Maryth Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters’ VIP room, we have—

Deputy Guild Master of the Thera Maryth Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters, Tarki. Guild staff member, Marina. Three armed male guards, supposedly equivalent of B-Rank adventurers (all possessing combat skills).

The five members of the female adventurer group, “Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks.”

Lawrence, a Monastic Priest of the Saintess’ Church, belonging to the Sant’Angelo Sanctorium, along with his six templar knights.

Sir Simon, apparently a young nobleman from another country, and his attendant, Mr. Emil.

Eliza (Barbara), the Shrine Maiden of the Saintess’ Church of the Second District, and her female apprentice shrine maiden attendants.

And finally, myself, who is supposedly the Shrine Maiden of the Third District, along with Cestlavie, who is currently trying to keep as much distance from the Church as possible and working as a common adventurer. A total of twenty-three people.

Since the VIP room is practically one entire floor, it doesn’t feel cramped even with this many people, but the sheer intensity of the gathered individuals is overwhelming.

The guild guards, for instance, may be B-Rank adventurers with the strength equivalent to that of a company commander in the national army, but they’ve completely turned into Villager A, B, and C, their restlessness evident as they fidget by the walls, overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

As for me, someone who’s been nicknamed the “Ragweed Princess,” a former weed with the heart of a commoner, I’d prefer to blend into the background like a wallflower. But for some reason, that’s not an option today.

“—So, the crucial question is, what exactly is the ‘Red Ram’ after? Also, do the Shrine Maiden Princesses actually have any unique abilities?”

In a casual tone that sounded like mere chit-chat, Kaisa scratched her wavy reddish-brown hair roughly and looked back and forth between me and Eliza with an appraising gaze.

…Why is she trying to drag me into this conversation? And also, please don’t casually throw around titles like “Shrine Maiden Princess.” It’s my unofficial name in the Holy City, and Eliza and her group are clicking their tongues in utter displeasure.

Still, arguing here would be a waste of time. Without saying anything unnecessary, I slowly shook my head to deny it.

“At the very least, I don’t possess anything like that. All I can use are ‘Healing Arts’ and ‘Purification Arts,’ witchcraft—I mean, Theocraft Arts and such. I can’t use any sort of unique ability.”

“Hmph, I hail from a venerable lineage of Shrine Maidens of the Church. Naturally, I can use some Theocraft Art supported by proper bloodlines and faith in the Saintess, but the mere thought of using underhanded arts resembling dark sorcery or, heaven forbid, supernatural abilities like a certain someone makes my skin crawl.”

In response to my and Eliza’s answers, everyone present, including Kaisa, who had asked the question, wore troubled expressions, fists under their chins as they collectively murmured, “Hmmm…”

“…Then, what exactly is the ‘Red Ram’ trying to steal?”

Sir Simon’s innocent question prompted Father Lawrence to glance back and forth between us as if trying to gauge something.

The notice itself was vague from the beginning. If it said, ‘I shall appear at such-and-such date and time to steal such-and-such item,’ it would be stylish. But this one only said, ‘I will steal something valuable on such-and-such date,’ giving off a shallow intent that suggests, ‘If I get what I’m after, great, but if not, I’ll just grab whatever I can… Money, money! Ah, profit, profit!’ Hardly what you’d call a noble thief.

“Adelheid, are you really sure you’re not hiding some kind of trump card or secret ability?”

Faced with Eliza’s openly suspicious gaze, I quickly shook my head from side to side.

“I truly have no memory of having any unique ability.”

Although, if you’re talking about other hidden skills, secret techniques, ultimate moves, or special arts, I do have them by the dozen.

“Really…?”

And yet, suspicious gazes from all around continue to pierce me. Why am I the only one caught in the center of all this doubt!? Eliza should be in the same position as me as a suspect, yet everyone’s eyes are fixed squarely on me.

Even Cestlavie is giving me a squinty, accusatory stare. What’s that about!? Are you mistaking me for some kind of jack-in-the-box!?

“When it comes to unique abilities, there are cases where the person themselves is unaware of their influence on those around them. And honestly, that’s even scarier than visible effects like breathing fire or summoning lightning.”

Marina speaks up, recalling the threat.

“For example, ‘Jake the Slaughterer’ possessed the ability called ‘Apoptosis,’ which spread death around him simply by existing. Then there’s ‘Isabelle the Immortal,’ whose ability, ‘Catalyst,’ allowed her to steal the youth of others. And famously, there’s ‘Titania the Wicked,’ who, five hundred years ago, plunged the northern nations of the continent into a cauldron of chaos with her beauty, ‘Femme… Fatale’……”

For some reason, Marina’s words trail off with a horrified expression of “Ah—aaaaaah!” And at the same time, everyone else nods in unison as if they’ve all just figured something out.

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“Hey, if you have nowhere to go, why don’t you come to my place?”
“…Wh-Why are you being so kind to someone like me?”
“Hmm… Maybe because I’m interested in you, Colin. Also, I was picked up by daddy on a rainy day like this, too, you see?”
“Wha…!?”

The unexpected turn of events and the heaviness of her story left Colin speechless. But Maria Lou didn’t seem to mind and started walking, still holding Colin’s hand.

“We can talk about it later. More importantly, can you read and write, Colin?”
“Y-Yeah. Sort of.”

When Colin had come to the Holy City looking for work, he had learned basic reading, writing, and arithmetic back in his hometown. It turned out he had a knack for it, and he especially enjoyed reading books.

“That’s perfect! My adoptive father is the editor-in-chief of a newspaper, but he’s been complaining about not having enough helpers. If you want, Colin, would you like to give it a try?”

It was all so sudden, and Colin had never even considered working as a newspaper assistant. He was completely at a loss for how to respond.

“It’s decided then! Nice to work with you, Colin.”

Turning around with a cheerful smile as if she had made up her mind from the very beginning, Maria Lou left Colin’s heart pounding.

“Y-Yeah, nice to work with you.”

And so, the two of them walked with light, almost dancing steps, along the main street of the Holy City, which was filled with the scent of fresh rain and blooming hydrangeas.

♢♦♢♦♢

Maria Lou looked up at the glass windows of the Adventurers’ Guild headquarters, where bright lights poured out. Seeing the silhouettes of fully armed adventurers patrolling back and forth, a hint of provocation mixed with disdain flashed in her eyes.

“Heh… They say a flock of sheep led by a lion can drive away a pride of lions led by a sheep. But I wonder, do they even have a proper leader for this mob of fools? And can they spot the lion hiding among the flock in sheep’s clothing? Let’s see what they’re made of.”

Her murmured words carried a dark undertone.

“Maria Lou…?” Feeling a sudden unease, Colin called out to her.

“What is it?” Maria Lou smiled back with her usual carefree expression—like a hydrangea glistening with raindrops.

“N-Nothing. But really, a girl shouldn’t be wandering around at this hour. The editor-in-chief will be mad if he finds out.”
“It’s fine. I stopped by the office to drop off a late-night snack for daddy and told him I’d chase after you on my way back. He gave me the okay.”

As she spoke, Maria Lou took out a golden pocket watch from her pocket—was it called a chronograph? It looked complex, with multiple hands—and opened its lid to check the dial.

“Does that mean he really trusts you…? The editor-in-chief spoils you in strange ways.”

He was usually such a doting parent, bragging about his daughter so much it was easy to forget they weren’t actually related by blood.

“Anyway, this isn’t a safe place to be right now. Let’s hurry back.”

If he were alone, even getting caught up in trouble would just make him cheerfully say, “I got myself a good scoop!” But things were different when the girl he owed his life to, the one he cherished most, was by his side.

Waving the lantern in his hand, Colin took the lead, urging Maria Lou to head back to the boarding house—an apartment where Maria Lou and her adoptive father lived and had kindly allowed Colin to stay.

…The truth was, he wanted to reverse their roles from the day they first met, to grab her hand and pull her along. But that was just too embarrassing.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Maria Lou replied half-heartedly, sounding annoyed, and gave Colin’s back a slap as her usual greeting.

“Ouch. Can’t you go a bit easier on me—”

Colin grumbled, turning his head to complain, but something suddenly came to mind.

“…Now that I think about it, you greeted me the same way around here earlier today, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right. I was on my way to bring lunch to daddy when I saw your defenseless back, so I couldn’t help myself.”

Maria Lou narrowed her eyes mischievously.

“Was there some kind of paper stuck to my back?”

Why hadn’t he thought of it until now? It was probably because it felt like just another ordinary day, nothing unusual enough to catch his attention. But now he was curious, so he asked.

“There wasn’t anything. Not until I touched your back.”

Maria Lou shrugged, and Colin nodded without a trace of suspicion.

“I see.” He turned back around, satisfied with the answer.

Watching his back, “…Sorry.” Maria Lou’s smile faded. A helpless emotion spread across her face, like paint dripping into water.

“ -Meow.”

From somewhere near the roof of a nearby house, the meow of a cat echoed, followed by the fluttering sound of wings, like a bird taking flight.

♢♦♢♦♢

The Guildmaster of the Thera Maryth Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters, Karolos Papandreou, belonged to a family of chieftains from the tribe of smallfolk, also known as Hobbits.

Because of that connection, he had been installed as the Guildmaster to counter the Saintess’ Church, which promoted human supremacy. But in reality, after twenty years of this job (and though not as long-lived as elves, he did have a reasonably long lifespan), he couldn’t help but think it was nothing but trouble with very little reward.

And tonight, more than ever, he felt it was a day of utter misfortune, as he followed the annoyingly noisy instructions of the maid’s severed head and tried to piece her body back together.

Then—

“What’s that noise!?”
“Could it be an attack!?”

Perhaps drawn by the commotion in the ‘Hazardous Materials Storage,’ two brawny guild staff members, armed and panicking, burst through the door.

Their eyes immediately landed on the sight of the Guildmaster—reputed for his womanizing habits—frozen in place, holding up the hips of a dismembered maid dressed in a miniskirt.

The guild staff’s eyes and mouths widened to their absolute limits as they took in the scene: the Guildmaster standing there, dazed and gripping the maid’s lower half, with her arms, legs, torso, chest, and orange-haired head scattered on the floor, her decapitated head resting atop the ground like some ghastly trophy.

“Emergency——!!!”
“There’s an emerging pervert——!!!”

Almost identical screams erupted from the throats of the two men.⁴

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In a corner of the city reeking of filth and decay, Colin crouched beneath the last remaining eaves of a dilapidated building. He gazed absently at the fog-shrouded streets of the Holy City, Thera Maryth, where shadow-like figures silently navigated around mud, garbage, and filth as they passed by.

What Colin wore was a tattered set of ragged old clothes, his only decent outfit, paired with mud-caked fabric shoes riddled with holes. His wet hair, uncut for over a year, had clumped together in places from grime and dirt.

“…A year, huh.”

It had been over a year since he came to the Holy City.

At first, the shop he’d been introduced to through a recommendation forced him to work like a slave every day, all for a bowl of salty soup and a piece of moldy black bread. If the shopkeeper or his wife was in a bad mood, even that meager reward would be withheld.

Loneliness and hunger soaked his pillow with tears every night. He thought he had hit rock bottom in life… But it was only after he realized that, at the very least, he’d had a roof over his head and a shred of social status, that he understood how much worse things could get. That realization came the day the shopkeeper’s family fled overnight under the weight of debt.

One morning, Colin rose from his attic room as usual, only to find the shop completely deserted. While he stood there in shock, debt collectors’ thugs burst in, shoulders squared with fury.

The moment they saw the state of the shop, they struck him down without a word. When he came to, he was bound with rope, one step away from being sold off to a slaver—

The only reason he managed to escape was that he was left half-abandoned in the rundown shop, deemed worthless as merchandise, and by sheer luck, an unexpected series of fortunate events had piled up in his favor.

Even so, while he managed to escape with his life, he had nowhere left to return to.

Three full days passed, spent sleepless under a bridge, constantly dreading the shadows of those who might be pursuing him.

He thought he had finally hit the true rock bottom of his life… But as it turned out, he was still standing on artificially raised ground.

By then, the hunger gnawing at him outweighed his fear of danger. Staggering out from his hiding place, he tried to fill his stomach with the last few coins he had left. But before he could do so, he was found by a gang of vagrants who roamed the city’s slums. They beat and kicked him mercilessly, stripping him of his entire wealth of iron and copper coins.

Even the bridge beneath which he had been hiding rejected him, as the vagrants kicked him away.

Half delirious from pain and fever caused by his injuries, he wandered aimlessly for more than half a day. It was then, guided by a small friend, that he stumbled upon this broken-down, abandoned building and made it his new refuge.

It’s been over a month since then.

He tried to earn some money, even if it meant scavenging through garbage or working as a day laborer. But no shopkeeper was kind enough to hire a scrawny, ragged boy with no connections. As for scavenging, the dumpsites were controlled by groups of street kids, and when he unknowingly searched one of their territories, he barely escaped with his life.

He moistened his throat with the misty drizzle of morning and evening, and with the meager coins he gathered from pretending to beg, he managed to eat once every day or two.

He kept up this lifestyle, but malnutrition, constant stress, and the unending drizzle that had started falling that morning left him completely drained of energy. Now, he just sat collapsed in front of the entrance to the abandoned house.

“Am I… going to die?”

People passing by wore proper clothing—hats, cloaks, thick-soled shoes, or boots. Their neat appearance only highlighted his own miserable state, hunched over by the roadside.

It all felt like a blatant symbol of the entire city’s rejection of him. Hugging his knees even tighter, Colin mumbled to himself.

Then, half-consciously, he let out a faint whistle.

“Squee, squee, squee, squee…”

At once, his little friends—rats he had befriended since arriving in this city—emerged from somewhere and swarmed around his feet.

Were they begging for food? But he didn’t even have so much as vegetable scraps… Ah, but if he died, maybe he’d end up as food for the rats and crows.

As his dim consciousness drifted toward such thoughts, Colin was about to let himself sink into a sleep he wasn’t sure he’d wake from.

“—You’ll get wet if you stay there, you know?”

Suddenly, a voice like tinkling bells spoke to him. Moving his gaze slowly upward, he saw a girl around his own age, dressed in clothes that clearly marked her as someone of good upbringing. She was looking at him with genuine concern.

Had his escort to the afterlife finally arrived…?
In his hazy mind, Colin thought so.

The girl stared at the lifeless-looking boy’s face, blinking a few times. But when no reply came, she tilted her head with a troubled expression. Her gaze drifted down to the rats squeaking persistently at the boy’s feet.

“Hey, are these little guys your friends?”

Colin followed her gaze and nodded reflexively, without thinking.

“Wow. They seem really comfortable around you. Are you maybe a mage or something, and these little guys are your familiars?”

She asked with genuine curiosity. But Colin had never learned magic, and he had no idea what a ‘familiar’ even was, so he honestly shook his head.

“…I don’t know.”

At that moment, one of the rats stood up on its hind legs and squeaked, as if protesting.

“But… maybe because we’ve been together so long, I kind of feel like I understand what they’re saying.”

When he added that, the rat nodded in satisfaction. The girl narrowed her eyes gently at the sight.

As they spoke, Colin gradually realized that the girl standing before him wasn’t an angel or a spirit. He started feeling a slight sense of wariness. In this city, no one would approach a stranger without some hidden motive. What could she want…? No—he brushed the thought aside. It hardly mattered; he’d probably end up dead in a gutter soon enough anyway.

Sensing Colin’s despair, the rats began chattering noisily, as if trying to cheer him up. Watching them with a strangely mature expression, the girl’s lips curved into a smile.

“That’s amazing. So, what’s your name?”
“…Colin Thompson.”
“I’m Maria Lou Sheffield. Nice to meet you, Colin.”

She offered her pure white hand to him with innocent sincerity. Colin stared at it, blinking in bewilderment.

“Uh… um… what?”
“A handshake. Let’s be friends.”
“Eh?! B-but I’m dirty and soaked from the rain.”
“It’s fine. See? The rain’s already stopped.”

Colin hesitated a moment longer, but Maria Lou took his hand and pulled him up, practically forcing him to his feet. When he looked up, he saw that at some point, the rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking through the clouds.

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Perhaps fearing it would be disrespectful to question him further, Eliza reluctantly held her tongue.

However, I felt a sense of unease at his words.

“If you’ve analyzed them, does that mean someone from the church has already made contact with the ‘Red Ram’?”
“No, Sister Clara. Our findings come from a thorough investigation of the residual magical waves left at the crime scenes.”

An investigation? In such a short time, were they really able to visit the scene, examine the residual mana waves from the past, and conduct such a detailed analysis? …How suspiciously efficient.

“…I see. So, based on that, it has been determined that the culprit possesses only innate abilities. In that case, does the Red Ram’s skill to steal abilities also count as an innate ability?”
“Yes. That is our conclusion.”

Father Lawrence nodded without the slightest hesitation. I see—

“How intriguing. If I were to name that ability, I suppose I’d call it Talent Eater.”

“What do you mean, ‘I suppose I’d call it Talent Eater’?! Don’t give me that! Can’t you at least show some sense of urgency, Adelheid?! Even if they’re specialized in just one area, the fact that they wield multiple abilities makes them practically no different from a magician! And that’s the kind of person who’s targeting us!”

Eliza, clearly exasperated, turned to the others for support before stepping closer to confront me.

“…That impression was uncannily accurate,” Cestlavie muttered, sounding deeply impressed.

…Huh? Wait a moment. Do I really tilt my head and talk in such a lazy, annoying way all the time…?

“That’s not the point!” Perhaps overhearing Cestlavie’s remark, Eliza shot him a deeply irritated glare before turning back to me.

“No matter how versatile we are—well, in your case, you’re just a jack-of-all-trades—our spellcasting is still limited to three or four types at most. But our opponent can steal multiple abilities and use them at will! Don’t you see how overwhelming that advantage is, Adelheid?! And what are you doing, counting on your fingers?!”

For reference, I can use the common Neutral magic that anyone can wield, as well as Fire, Water, Light, and Air. I also have a solid grasp of elven spirit magic, and if I include talisman-based techniques, my repertoire expands even further.

“…And yet, even now, you’re just standing there looking all relaxed! Do you not feel any sense of danger?!”

Well, to be honest, I don’t feel particularly threatened.

Even if a warrior could wield a sword, axe, spear, mace, dagger, martial arts, bow, staff, whip, and knuckles, they wouldn’t be able to use all of them in a single fight. No matter how many weapons one has at their disposal, in the end, they only have one body—two hands, two feet. There are limits.

The same applies to me. Even though I can wield multiple magic attributes, the best I can do simultaneously is something like fire in my right hand, ice in my left. (I’ve tried experimenting to see if I could combine them into some kind of ultimate technique, but no luck.) It’s like drawing a manga with both hands at once, it’d be far easier and more accurate to just use my dominant hand.

In the end, despite the effort it takes to master multiple skills, my conclusion is disappointingly straightforward: specializing in one ability and making it your own is far more efficient, and your growth is much faster.

“Well, of course, being forced into a defensive position is never ideal. However, in the end, battles favor those with numbers on their side. And besides, with so many dependable people here to protect me, I don’t feel particularly anxious.”

I said this with mostly genuine gratitude and gave a polite nod to those around me. The templar knights and members of Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks exchanged glances before nodding back with a satisfied, confident air.

…Meanwhile, Cestlavie, Deputy Guildmaster Tarki, Kaisa, and Sir Simon all exchanged subtle smiles—half amusement, half exasperation.

Honestly. How unfortunate it must be to lack the ability to trust in the goodwill of others.

♢♦♢♦♢

“…Where is this place?”

Before he knew it, Colin found himself standing at a street corner that felt both familiar and unfamiliar. He looked around, his expression puzzled.

Night had fallen deep, and the thick fog—Thera Maryth’s infamous mist—shrouded his surroundings, obscuring his vision. The only light illuminating his path was the dim glow leaking from the handheld night lantern he carried.

The lantern was a simple contraption: a cylindrical metal casing with small perforations, housing a wick made from the pith of lampgrass soaked in animal fat. It was lightweight, affordable, and easy to handle. However, compared to magical tools or even standard lanterns, its light was feeble and unreliable.

Still, this was a road he had walked countless times. Normally, there was no reason for him to get lost. And yet, when he took a closer look at his surroundings, the streets before him were different from the ones he usually traversed.

Frowning, he decided to use a large building’s shadow and the faintly glowing animal fat street lamp in front of it as landmarks, making his way forward.

“Huh…? Wait, is this the Adventurers’ Guild headquarters?”

Not just vaguely familiar—Colin was now staring at the very building where he had been confined just hours ago. His voice came out dumbfounded.

“Why the hell did I end up here…?”

Even if he had lost his way, this was an absurd detour. The headquarters of the Adventurers’ Guild was in nearly the opposite direction from his boarding house.

Still, now that he knew where he was, Colin let out a small sigh of relief.

“…People are still inside? Well, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Despite the late hour, lights still flickered here and there within the building. Colin looked up at it, his expression complicated.

Ordinarily, shops closed as soon as the sun set, and even restaurants that stayed open relatively late would usually shut down three to four hours before midnight. The guild was no different. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be bustling this late.

The reason for the exception, Colin already knew. The mysterious phantom thief currently making waves in the Holy City had set their sights on a certain shrine maiden, widely regarded as the city’s second most beautiful, though still trailing behind the top spot by about three lengths. The guild members had stayed behind to guard her.

Wouldn’t it be better if he remained here, too? Wouldn’t that be the proper stance to take as a journalist? The thought struck him, and for a moment, Colin found himself stepping toward the guild.

But—

“…The chief said they’d handle things on their end. I shouldn’t interfere… should I?” Recalling his editor-in-chief’s words, he hesitated. Half-relieved, half-frustrated, he turned on his heel—only to be interrupted.

“Hey! Colin, what are you doing here?”

Thud!

A firm slap landed on his back, nearly sending him stumbling forward. Quickly regaining his footing, he spun around in surprise.

There stood a girl with violet hair, dressed in a light brown cashmere coat, a neatly trimmed skirt, and velvet shoes.

“M-Maria Lou…?” Colin blinked rapidly at the familiar face, a girl around his own age.

“It was getting late, so I came to fetch you, Colin. I didn’t expect to find you lost in a place like this, though.” She beamed at him, her golden-brown eyes narrowing playfully.

Colin, suddenly self-conscious, awkwardly adjusted the brim of his newsboy cap.

Somewhere in the distance, a cat let out a faint meow.

♢♦♢♦♢

Inside the “Hazardous Materials Storage” beneath the Adventurers’ Guild—

“…You’re late! Just how long do you plan on keeping me waiting, you dimwits of the Adventurers’ Guild?! Do you have any idea how much stress Lady Clara is under, worrying for my safety? I demand an official protest!”
“Well, as long as you’re in here, there’s not much we can do about it… Besides, you’re wrapped up like a mummy in magically-treated wire.”

The tiny figure—who gave off an air of carefree insincerity—shrugged theatrically and shook his head as he looked at the maid, who was completely bound in threads of pure silver.

“You there, hobbit! If you’re really the Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild, then doesn’t that mean all responsibility for this mess lies within a one-merte radius of you?!”
“Whoa, now! Look, I’m just a figurehead—the real power lies with the executives. And honestly, I hate dealing with important folks or religious types, so I usually just hide down here whenever they show up.”

The tiny man lifted himself off the treasure chest he had been sitting on, flashing a sheepish grin.

Coppelia, still wrapped up tightly, glared at him with dangerous eyes.

“…Hearing you say that just makes me even angrier. Fine! I’ll knock you flat before I escape!”
“Wait, huh? No—uh, how exactly?”
“Hah! The mere thought that this could restrain me is laughable. I could boil tea on my navel from how ridiculous it is! Any proper maid worth her salt must master the art of escaping captivity! Even if she can’t clean or do laundry, breaking free from restraints is child’s play!”
“…No, but seriously, if you’re a maid, shouldn’t you learn cleaning and laundry first?”

Ignoring the small man’s reasonable retort, Coppelia tensed up—no, she completely relaxed her body.

“Behold! Victor School Escape Technique—‘Maid Osteopathy!’”

In the next instant—

“HNNNAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

—Before the horrified guildmaster’s eyes, Coppelia’s entire body came apart, her limbs and torso disassembling into pieces.

“BWAAAH?! Some weird connector came loose! I’m all tangled up!! Ooooooohh!!” With a ridiculous shriek, Coppelia’s dismembered body parts tumbled to the floor in a heap.

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A criminal operating solely in the Holy City—one whose true identity remains completely unknown and who, according to speculation, possesses the ability to steal and make use of others’ abilities. They call themselves “Phantom Thief: Red Ram.”

…When you think about it that way, this whole commotion starts to feel like nothing more than a petty internal squabble. However, considering that even the upper ranks of the Adventurers’ Guild and the Saintess Church are caught up in the controversy, it’s clearly no mere joke. Probably.

Well, setting that aside—

Faced with the substantial objects swaying before me, I found myself instinctively voicing a recent personal dilemma.

“…So, it seems they’ve gotten even bigger again. It’s not too bad for everyday life, but when I run or fight, they bounce and hurt, and it’s hard to endure for long.”
“Ahh, I totally get that. I had a hard time with it myself. I used to bind them tightly with a bleached cloth, but if you wrap it tight enough to stop the movement, it just gets unbearably uncomfortable. And since Lady Clara is still growing and has firmer tissue, it’s probably even worse for you.”
“Is there anything I can do about it?”
“My best recommendation would be getting a custom-made one from a tailor with female staff. The one I’m wearing right now is like this.”

“Hmm, I see. The straps are thicker than usual, and… oh, it lifts and holds everything in place.”
“Exactly. With stronger support, it makes things so much easier.”
“But I bet it’s expensive, isn’t it?”
“Usually around eight to ten gold coins.”

“That’s enough to buy a brand-new dress! Maybe before, but I don’t have that kind of extra money right now. And I’d need more than just one…”
“Still, wearing one versus not wearing one makes a huge difference.”
“Ugh… Well, if we can find a time that works for both of us, could you introduce me to the shop?”
“Of course! Leave it to me!”

The Twinfang of Snowy Peak—an adventurer group made up entirely of women.

Each one of them was a stunning beauty in their own right, and their leader, Kaisa, had a big-sisterly air that practically screamed “reliable.” When I actually spoke to her, she proved just as lively and dependable as she looked, readily answering my concerns.

Incidentally, if we were to rank the women in this room by a certain… category, the order would be as follows:

Kaisa (Explosive) > Me (Huge) > Margit (Large) ≧ The Shrine-Maidens-in-Training (Large) > Eliza (Medium) > Daniella (Medium) > Marina (Small) > Natalie (Minuscule) = Nora (Minuscule).

“Ahem! …May I continue with the explanation?”

Holding the briefing documents, Marina asked in a slightly… disgruntled tone for some reason.

“—Ah, yes. Sorry, we’ve interrupted you so many times.”
“Y-, yeah, our bad.”

Though she was smiling, an undeniable pressure radiated from her, making Kaisa and me instinctively bow in apology.

“Regarding the nature of the stolen abilities, if you take a look at the documents in front of you, you’ll see that all the talents taken by ‘Red Ram’ so far fall under what are commonly known as ‘exclusive skills’ or ‘innate abilities,’ such as Intuition, Lockpicking, Cat’s Eyes, and Magic Eyes.”

“Hmmm…”

The gathered officials—who had been skimming through the well-organized briefing notes—let out a collective murmur of contemplation.

Incidentally, the literacy rate in the Holy City was only about thirty percent. However, given that everyone present here was either an official of the Church or a high-ranking member of the Adventurers’ Guild, it seemed that reading and writing in the common tongue posed no issue.

“Were only innate abilities stolen? What about elemental magic? Or were any of the victims unable to use magic afterward?”

When I instinctively asked, Marina shook her head, maintaining her businesslike smile.

“We don’t know. While we can account for the first victims, from the third case onward, the victims had hired bodyguards—swordsmen with swordsmanship skills or mages—through the Adventurers’ Guild. These bodyguards suffered physical harm, but none of their related skills were stolen. Whether this is merely a coincidence or if there is some underlying reason… we simply don’t have enough information to say for certain.”

Hearing that explanation—

“Hmm… so only innate ability users, huh?”
“In other words, rejects who couldn’t become proper mages.”
“Well, even if you have the talent, it’s not easy to find a proper teacher to formally learn magic from.”

Cestlavie folded his arms with a tired expression, Eliza voiced her blunt opinion, and Margit, the spellcaster of Twinfang of the Snowy Peak, gave a wry smile.

Wizard, Mage, Witch—the terminology varies depending on the school of magic, but the number of individuals officially recognized under such titles rarely exceeds fifty per nation. The rest fall into lesser categories, such as failed mages, taoists, or sorcerers—people with incomplete abilities.

And yet, every so often, there are those who manifest extraordinary abilities without any training or foundation whatsoever.

In ancient times, they were labeled demon-possessed or children of the abyss. These individuals, whose latent magic surged uncontrollably and granted them spontaneous supernatural abilities, are now known as innate ability users or gifted individuals.

This phenomenon—what we call innate abilities—is, as reflected in Eliza and Margit’s words, poorly regarded by both society and magic practitioners alike.

The reason is simple: these abilities are rooted almost entirely in the individual’s unique constitution and psyche. Others cannot replicate them, nor can the user fully understand their own power. And because their magical circuitry is effectively a black box, they are unable to learn additional magic later in life. (If they try to force it, their body and mind will break.)

Of course, innate abilities have their advantages. Take a fire-breathing ability, for example. A normal magic user like myself would first have to gather mana, concentrate, and possibly use incantations or a magic circle. In contrast, an innate ability user might simply wake up one day, drink alcohol, and suddenly be able to breathe fire—triggered by something completely irrational and outside the bounds of common sense. It’s quite a troublesome phenomenon.

That said, this is just an example. No matter how much an ordinary person drinks, the only thing they’ll end up vomiting is… well, vomit.

But I digress. Innate abilities vary wildly from person to person, often manifesting in inexplicable ways. However, because these ability users tend to lack the aptitude for conventional magic, proper mages often look down on them, dismissing them as one-trick ponies or single-skill specialists.

That being said, if we categorize supernatural abilities in that way, then my own powers—or rather, the healing arts and purification magic that Shrine maidens use—could also be considered a form of innate ability.

Of course, openly stating this would likely provoke backlash from the fanati—er, devout followers of the church. After all, these powers manifest randomly, and for some reason, most Shrine maidens are unable to wield other branches of magic (or theocraft, as they call it). Even if they can, it’s usually just the most rudimentary forms.

There are exceptions, though. Both Eliza and I are capable of using elemental magic, but this is considered an extreme rarity. That’s why I suspect healing magic isn’t actually some divine blessing or a sign of personal virtue, as the church preaches. Rather, I believe it’s simply a case of certain people being born with an innate ability for healing.

As I entertained such blasphemous thoughts, Father Lawrence, a high-ranking member of the clergy, spoke up.

“…Hmm. More likely than choosing not to steal, it’s that they cannot steal such abilities. The church has investigated this matter, and while the thief in question has employed minor magical tools and simple tricks in their crimes, there is no evidence that they have ever used actual magic. Furthermore, based on the magical wave patterns left at the crime scenes, our conclusion is that the culprit can only wield innate abilities—nothing else.”

His clear, practiced voice carried the confidence of someone well accustomed to addressing an audience. Struck by the beauty of his tone and the weight of his authority, the templar knights, guild staff, and Twinfangs of the Snowy Peak members all nodded in agreement, as if competing to acknowledge his words first.

However, Cestlavie, Deputy Guildmaster Tarki, Twinfang leader Kaisa, and Sir Simon all wore subtly uncertain expressions.

Perhaps those with preconceived notions or wishful thinking fail to see the truth—and more often than not, reality has a way of overturning such assumptions. Those who have experienced the harsher side of life likely understand this well.

“But doesn’t that make innate abilities even more troublesome, precisely because they don’t follow the usual principles of magic? If the culprit can wield multiple of them, that would make them even harder to predict.”

On the other hand, those who, while understanding the logic, still wore concerned expressions were Eliza, Kaisa, and other devoted Shrine maidens—innocent maidens who were also devout believers of the faith. …What about me? Oh, of course, I believe that what Father Lawrence says must be true. Probably. Most likely. At the very least, he believes it to be true.

(…That aside, Eliza really is quite capable, isn’t she?)

She has the quick thinking to immediately pinpoint key issues. If only she weren’t so self-conscious and had a broader perspective, she’d be flawless… but unfortunately, her skill distribution is all wrong.

“—You look like you have something to say, Adelheid.”
“Not at all.”

…She’s also annoyingly perceptive.

“Sister Barbara, it’s true that innate abilities vary greatly depending on personal aptitude or racial traits, but in this particular case, there’s no need for concern. That’s because we can determine the enemy’s capabilities simply by analyzing the stolen abilities. In fact, we’ve already done so. Now that we know their tricks, there are plenty of ways to counter them.”

Father Lawrence stated this with confidence, while the templar knights behind him puffed out their chests as if to say, Leave it to us.