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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.

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Well, if I couldn’t recall it right away, it probably wasn’t important.

…Though for some reason, Cestlavie looked like he wanted to say something. But not wanting to interrupt Marina any further, I subtly held up a hand to keep the peace.

“Returning to the topic—the first victim appeared six months ago, and it was a female fortune teller.”

“Six months ago? That’s around when Adelheid arrived in this city. —Hey, maybe she’s involved? Just kidding, don’t take it so seriously.”
“Actually, Lady Clara and her associates’ alibis have already been verified. There’s no cause for concern.”

Eliza’s jab made me momentarily suspicious—could it be…?—but Lawrence immediately denied it.

But wait…

“—Does that mean I was a suspect?”
“And judging by that ‘associates’ remark, it looks like they had their eyes on me and the useless one, too.”

Cestlavie spat bitterly.

“Still, revealing that information outright suggests they see us as allies… or at least neutral parties, doesn’t it?”
“Even so, that’s a bit too blatant. It sounds more like ‘I’m constantly monitoring you. Also, your panties is white today,’ to me. In short, a not-so-subtle warning.”
“…I’d rather not think about it.”

While we were caught up in our concerns, Marina continued her explanation.

“At first, the threatening letter was thought to be a prank. However, on the night in question, the fortune teller was actually attacked. Several pieces of jewelry were stolen, along with something extremely important to her profession.”

“Something extremely important to a fortune teller?”

A crystal ball? Tarot cards?

“…Her ability as a fortune teller—her ‘intuition.'”

“ “ “ “Haaah—?!” ” ” ”

Eliza, Kaisa and Margit from Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks, and I all cried out in disbelief at the unexpected answer.

The guild officials, Father Lawrence, and the templar knights must have already known, as they showed no reaction and remained silent. Meanwhile, Sir Simon, a third party to all this, looked amused and muttered, “Hoho.” The others, however, seemed confused, tilting their heads.

“At first, it was assumed that the attack had simply disrupted her abilities. However, every subsequent victim has been someone with a unique talent, and all of them lost their abilities after being attacked. And following each incident, there have been indications that Red Ram began demonstrating the very same abilities.”

For example, a ranger with the ability to ‘unlock’ was attacked, and whereas magical locks had previously been broken through brute force, afterward, Red Ram started opening them effortlessly.

A doctor skilled in hypnosis was targeted, and after losing their ability, Red Ram began using hypnosis as well.

…And so on.

“In other words, the ‘precious thing’ that Red Ram speaks of refers to the abilities of gifted individuals—what you might call talents or skills. And once stolen, the original owner loses their ability entirely.”

As Marina cited examples from the documents, I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the sheer horror of it.

“So far, they’ve successfully stolen an ability nearly once a month… and not only that, but they also loot valuables indiscriminately? Just how vile is this person?!”

“Indeed. And one more thing—the reason Red Ram’s true face remains unknown, not to mention whether they are male or female, is due to the testimonies of victims and those who have encountered them. They all say the same thing: ‘Before I knew it, they were right beside me.’ ‘It was someone I recognized, but they were Red Ram all along.’ Based on these, we suspect they possess either an advanced disguise technique or a shapeshifting ability.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Instinctively, we exchanged glances, as if subtly trying to gauge one another.

♢♦♢♦♢

In the thick fog, so dense that not even a single merte ahead could be seen, Colin Thomson, a trainee reporter for the Daily Septentrio, trudged along on his way home. He came to a halt and let out a weary sigh.

“I really thought I had a major scoop…”

The moment he was released from the Adventurers’ Guild, Colin had sprinted straight back to the office.

By the time he arrived, it was far beyond just ‘late’—he was met with the editor-in-chief’s furious shouting. As he fumbled through his explanation, the editor’s expression darkened, and he was abruptly dragged into an empty room.

The editor-in-chief was a hardened veteran, once a squad leader in the Northern War a decade ago. Pacing around the room like a bear before hibernation, he let out a heavy sigh.

“…There’s no way we can publish this.”
“W-What?! Why?! Are you afraid of the Church’s pressure?!”

Colin’s voice rose in protest, filled with disappointment.

The editor stroked his stubbled chin.

“It’s true—the higher-ups in the Church have sent a very strong warning to our publisher. But that’s not what’s stopping me. No amount of pressure could crush a journalist’s spirit.”
“Then—”
“But our subject is none other than the most talked-about person right now—Lady Clara. If we recklessly stir up a sense of crisis, it could spark riots in the Holy City… No, scratch that. Riots will happen.”

Colin furrowed his brows, unconvinced.

“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”

“Listen, kid… What kind of journalist doesn’t keep his antenna up? Right now, she’s being hailed as the ‘Shrine Maiden Princess Clara’ and the ‘Cattleya Flower’—there’s no one in the city who doesn’t know her name. Given her looks and personality, I can see why people would want to put her on a pedestal.”
“…Huh. Is that really how it is?”

Colin couldn’t help but think that Clara’s beauty was so divine, so otherworldly, that she didn’t seem like someone who could be the subject of an equal romantic relationship. Though perhaps that was partly because he already had someone he was pining for.

Seeing Colin’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction, the editor-in-chief smirked knowingly.

“Heh. So you prefer my sweet Maria instead?”
“Wha—!? I-It’s not like I… that—!”

Colin’s face turned bright red as he tried to protest, but his words were drowned out by the editor’s loud, boisterous laughter. As both his boss and Maria Lou’s father, the man clapped Colin on the shoulder—lightly, at least by his standards, though it still nearly sent the scrawny trainee stumbling.

“For now, why don’t you write an article about that ‘Dwarven Apple Pavilion’ you mentioned earlier? If it’s interesting enough, I’ll put it in tomorrow’s morning edition.”
“U-Understood!”

Overwhelmed by the sheer force of the editor’s presence, Colin hastily pulled out his notepad, where he had scribbled down his rough notes.