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At some point, the topic of Barbara, like her carriage, had completely passed by, replaced by reverence and praise for Clara.

Finally able to enjoy his breakfast, Colin nodded to himself as he pulled a small notebook from his pocket with one hand and began jotting down notes.

“‘Shrine Maiden Barbara visits the slums during the morning mist—what could her true intentions be!? A covert maneuver tied to the selection of the next Shrine Maiden Princess? Or perhaps a connection to the infamous thief, the Red Ram, who stirs unrest in the Holy City?’… Oh, and fried chicken and coffee were Lady Clara’s ideas.”

“What’re you doing over there?“ The middle-aged man, munching on a simple sandwich stuffed with fried chicken, furrowed his brow as he addressed Colin, who had been ahead of him in line.

“I’m taking notes on the story I just heard. I’m a journalist, after all.”
“A journalist, you?”

The man gave Colin a skeptical once-over, his eyes lingering on the boy’s threadbare secondhand clothes. Colin looked no older than sixteen, with messy, dusty red hair, a thin, wiry frame, and a smattering of freckles around his nose. He looked like any other impoverished youth—a street orphan grown older, a pauper, or at best, a harmless jester.

“And what paper do you work for?”

Over the past two or three decades, newspapers had been springing up like mushrooms after the rain across the continent. While national papers were yet unheard of, local publications dominated the scene. The man had asked whilst thinking of a few names from among this growing number.

“Daily Septentrio!”

Colin answered proudly, his chest puffed out with confidence.

However, upon hearing his reply, not only the middle-aged man but everyone within earshot collectively pulled a face as if they had just downed a bitter cup of coffee.

Daily Septentrio was infamous as a gossip rag in the worst sense. Stories from its pages were notoriously twisted to absurd degrees: a report of the Pope patting a child on the head during a visit would somehow morph into a tale of him stringing up a mischievous child by their ankles and whipping them. The innocent news of a princess adopting a cat might transform into a wild accusation of her skinning the animal to craft a shamisen.

That the paper hadn’t yet been shut down despite its antics was a mystery. According to rumors, it owed its survival to a small but fervent group of eccentric enthusiasts. If Daily Septentrio itself were to be believed, these enthusiasts included figures like “His Imperial Majesty the God-Emperor!” and “Saintess Snow Herself!”—boasts so outrageous they were hardly worth taking seriously.

In any case, it was clear that by tomorrow morning, today’s commotion would grow not just fins and tails but wings and legs, likely splashed across a sensationalized article.

“…Don’t go turning this into something ridiculous.”

The middle-aged man couldn’t shake the feeling that his careless words might become the foundation of a fabricated story published as “reliable insider information.” With this in mind, he made sure to issue a firm warning.

Like any ordinary believer living in the Holy City, he had no desire to get entangled in any report that might mock or discredit the Church.

“Don’t worry. My journalist’s intuition is screaming at me—there’s an exclusive scoop here. I’ll conduct proper interviews and make sure it lands as a front-page headline!”

With fiery enthusiasm, Colin handed his empty cup back to the shopkeeper and tossed the paper wrapper from his finished fries onto the street without a second thought. Unlike reporters from prestigious newspapers, those working for niche publications like the Daily Septentrio were all hands on deck when a story broke. Even a rookie like Colin had a shot at writing a front-page article.

Incidentally, the discarded cone-shaped wrapper happened to be a sheet from none other than the Daily Septentrio, the topic of the current conversation.

“Phantom Thief ‘The Red Ram’ Roams the Holy City! Unveiling the Truth Behind the Mask!”
“Suspect: Male or Female, Aged Teens to Thirties, or Forties to Fifties, or Older”
“Shadow, Crime Kingpin, Declares: ‘I Raised Them Myself!!’”

The sensational headlines splashed across the page left everyone in the vicinity with an indescribable sense of helplessness.

“Now then, I’m off to chase down the Etoile! Sorry to trouble you, but could you let the editorial office on Fifth Street know that I’m late for work because I’m chasing a big scoop? All under the guidance of the Saintess, of course!”
“Wha—!?”

Before anyone could respond, Colin dashed off in pursuit of the carriage that had already disappeared down the street.

“Ugh, damn it… Who cares!”

The middle-aged man grumbled irritably, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. Yet, the last invocation of the Saintess’ guidance seemed to seal the deal. With a resigned sigh, he begrudgingly started toward Fifth Street.

“Why am I even doing this? And there’s no way he’s catching up to that carriage now. He’s probably just using this as an excuse for being late…”

His complaints were, in fact, spot on. But by some twist of fate, the Etoile, unfamiliar with the backstreets of the lower district, had lost its way. Spotting the carriage turned out to be surprisingly easy. As a result, Colin managed to leisurely tail it.

He witnessed Shrine Maiden Barbara entering the renowned Dwarven Apple Pavilion—only to be brusquely turned away shortly after. Adding to the drama, Shrine Maiden Clara was then seen leaving the establishment and heading toward the Adventurers’ Guild.

The next day, the Daily Septentrio featured sensational headlines across its front page:

“Do Shrine Maidens Love Giant Slugs!?”
“The Untold Tastes of Shrine Maiden Clara—Savoring the Secret Delicacy, Groß Nacktschnecke!”
“Shrine Maiden Barbara Scolded a Chef and Got the Boot!”

Needless to say, Jill and Eliza, upon reading the paper the following morning, were both absolutely livid.

Author’s Note:

As part of the backstory, the owner of this newspaper company is a mysterious black-haired merchant.

Running the media is merely a hobby for them.

They are also behind a mysterious project called “The Ultimate Menu,” where they declare, “This [dish] is a failure. There’s a far superior [dish],” and pursue such endeavors. However, that storyline is planned to be updated in a separate work.

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