v2c3 - 2

Inside the April, heading toward Ratison City, the six members of the Gillette Corps were gathered.  

Officially, the unit operated under the command of Knight Alberic Gillette, with field operations entrusted to him by the Kleeman Agency. In other words, as long as Alberic followed the broad directives from agency headquarters, he could act at his own discretion. The other members were merely his hands and feet, following his orders—or so it was structured.  

But Alberic disliked running the unit dictatorially.  

Of course, when necessary, he would forcefully issue orders to his team sometimes but his usual approach was to hold a group discussion whenever there was a change in strategy or circumstances. Acknowledging that he was still young and inexperienced by societal standards, he sought to absorb a wide range of opinions from his diverse team.  

Initially, some had criticized his methods as lacking leadership—Vivi, in particular, had been a vocal detractor but now, all the members had come to accept his approach.  

“…So.”  

Nikolai, the second-in-command, spoke while glancing down at the documents on the round table.  

Incidentally, the wounds he’d sustained from his recent fight with the young saboteur hadn’t fully healed. As a result, his already sturdy arms, wrapped thickly in white bandages, looked even more like massive logs.  

“What’s with the change of heart?”  

Around the round table sat, in clockwise order from Alberic - Vivi, Zita, Nikolai, and Leonardo. Only Mateus was at the driver’s seat, operating the April, but their voices carried well enough to reach each other.  

“I just feel like there are too many uncertainties.” Alberic said. “Our mission is to capture Chaika Gaz, the forgotten heir of the Taboo Emperor Arthur Gaz, and simultaneously recover the remains of the Taboo Emperor she’s trying to collect but…”  

Alberic pointed to the Kleeman Agency documents on the table.  

“There’s too little information on Chaika Gaz.”  

The dossier seemed slightly thicker than what they’d been shown before taking on the mission… but most of it was arrest records of impostors claiming to be Chaika Gaz. Information on the real one was barely any different from back then.  

“For starters, why are there so many fakes popping up?”  

“Well…” Nikolai started to say. “Oh. That’s what you mean.”  

He nodded, understanding.  

Indeed, posing as Chaika Gaz to scam people out of money by preaching empire restoration was one approach. That in itself wasn’t particularly strange. But the sheer number was excessive. In fact, before chasing this Chaika Gaz, Alberic’s team had already apprehended two others claiming to be “the Taboo Emperor’s daughter.”  

If it were just about making money, there should be plenty of other names to impersonate.  

In fact, the name Chaika Gaz carried more risk than reward.  

“Well, the lack of information is probably one reason.”  

The speaker was a girl with luxuriantly wavy hair—Vivi.  

Despite looking like some noble’s daughter, her profession was assassin. She didn’t talk much about her life before joining the Gillette Corps, but…  

“—I’m Chaika Gaz.”  

Saying this, she pulled a silver-haired wig from somewhere and plopped it on her head.  

Then, clasping her hands as if in prayer, she said...

“I’m working hard to restore the Gaz Empire, carrying on my father’s will. Mister, lend me some money.”  

“Wahahahahahaha!”  

“Ahahahaha!”  

Nikolai and Zita pointed and burst into laughter. In contrast, Leonardo and Alberic gave quiet, wry smiles.  

“Just kidding.” Taking off the silver wig and sticking out her tongue like a mischievous child, Vivi continued. “Since it’s unclear if she even really exists it’s easy to pose as her. For scams, it’s a simple setup… just silver hair and a girl.”  

Acting and disguise were essential skills for an assassin. If she wanted, this girl could probably convincingly impersonate Chaika Gaz and deceive someone.  

“That’s true.” Alberic said. “But on the other hand… including the Chaika Gaz we’re chasing, there are some who clearly aren’t scammers.”  

“Weren’t those supposed to be figureheads set up by the empire’s remnants?”  

Nikolai said, wiping tears of laughter with his fingertip.  

“Some Chaika Gazes do seem that way.”  

Alberic reached for the documents.  

At the top was a list of currently identified “Chaika Gazes.”  

The number was ridiculously over thirty and about seventy percent had already been arrested. Most were, as mentioned, trivial scammers, but… the issue was the roughly three “Chaika Gazes” who weren’t.  

All of them had committed suicide after arrest.  

As evident from Mateus, a mage skilled in mental domination techniques over Feyra, magic could forcibly extract information from a living person. Those three “Chaika Gazes” likely took their own lives to avoid this.  

In other words, they had secrets worth dying to protect.  

Alberic’s team had assumed this was information about the empire’s remnant forces.  

The reason the Gillette Corps was specifically chasing “Chaika Gaz” was to prevent rebellions, riots, or indiscriminate killings by these remnants—acts that could destabilize society. Even as remnants, they were once part of a northern superpower; if gathered, they could number enough to conquer a small nation.  

And setting up a “figurehead” while using the “remains” for legitimacy was a perfectly reasonable tactic, as Alberic’s team understood.  

But—  

“Mateus.”  

“—Yes?”  

Startled by the sudden call, Mateus shifted in the driver’s seat.  

“You’ve been tracking her for a while—during that time, did that Chaika Gaz ever show signs of contact with anyone who might be empire remnants?”  

“No. None at all.”  

Mateus said, rubbing his bald head with his palm.  

As a scout, he’d been following the Chaika Gaz they’d encountered in Del Solant. It was only a little over three days, but within the Gillette Corps, he’d observed her movements the longest.  

“From what I saw, she was always acting alone.”  

“And she went out of her way to hire saboteurs.”  

Nikolai said, almost growling.  

It had been confirmed that that Chaika Gaz had hired a sibling pair, Toru and Akari, through Del Solant’s job agency to attack Count Abarth’s mansion. The young man, the giant Nikolai fought was likely Toru.  

But… if she were a “figurehead” set up by the empire’s remnants, her treatment was far too negligent. Letting a figurehead wander freely without escorts or watchers would defeat the purpose. There should be someone by her side, whether for protection or surveillance.  

“So, no allies to rely on—none at all?”  

“If that’s the case…”  

Alberic said, flicking the documents with his fingertip.  

“Who is she, really? The real Chaika Gaz? Or…”  

“Not a scammer, not an empire remnant—a third kind of Chaika Gaz?”  

Zita murmured, tilting her head.  

“Whether she’s real or not, her purpose is the issue.”  

Leonardo said.  

“Well… there’s the possibility she’s real and just wants to ‘mourn her father.’”  

“Of course, that’s a possibility.”  

Alberic said, recalling the image of the girl he’d seen in Del Solant.  

She’d had a fragile, ephemeral air about her.  

She didn’t seem like someone plotting something grand. Of course, it could all be an act, but—  

“We can’t ignore the possibility of another purpose. Or that she’s being used by someone and doesn’t realize it. If that’s true then we can’t let those using her get away with it. Using such a delicate girl for their own…”  

“…”  

“…ends… Hm? What’s wrong, everyone?”  

Alberic noticed that, except for Mateus, who was driving, everyone at the round table was staring at him. Well, he was speaking, and he was the leader, so it was natural for the team to pay attention, but…  

Somehow their gazes felt subtly different in temperature than usual.  

“No, it’s just…” Nikolai said, scratching his cheek. “Compared to the other ‘Chaika Gazes,’ you seem oddly—fixated on this one.”  

“Fixated? A-Am I?”  

Alberic tilted his head.  

It was true that he felt something different about this Chaika Gaz compared to the fakes.  

And then—  

Noticing his subordinate, who for some reason had started spitefully stabbing needles into the silver wig she was holding from earlier, Alberic looked puzzled.  

“What’s wrong...Vivi?”  

“Nothing at all.”  

Vivi said with a pout, tossing the wig aside. Whether intentional or not, it landed on Mateus’s bald head with the needles still in it—prompting a short “Ow!?” from him.  

“No, look, Lord Gillette…”  

“Vivi’s just jeal—”  

Nikolai and Zita started to speak—at that moment.  

“—Shut up.”  

Having somehow stood and moved behind them unnoticed, the assassin girl pointed a needle skyward and spoke.  

“Got it. Shutting up.”  

“Yes. I’ll shut up too.”  

Nikolai and Zita raised one hand as if swearing an oath, responding in unison.  

“…I don’t quite get it, but…”  

“That’s just like you, Gillette - sama.”  

Leonardo said with a laugh to the bewildered Alberic.

 

The basics of military strategy begin with the advantage of terrain—that’s what they taught in the Acura village.

And they also taught that the more difficult the situation, the more likely people are to forget their fundamentals. But by stepping back and surveying the whole picture, a path to breaking through can unexpectedly open up that too.  

Following these teachings, Toru decided to first walk through the mansion and observe.  

The basic structure wasn’t particularly unusual.  

Closed to the outside, open to the inside—a common architectural style for many noble mansions. Dominica Škoda’s mansion was similar, with the square building itself forming a wall, enclosing a courtyard cut off from the outside.  

“…This place is seriously plain.”  

Toru muttered his impression.  

It wasn’t surprising that a martial figure like a cavalier would keep their surroundings spartan… but there were really no decorations or anything. For a martial person, you’d expect at least some armor or weapons displayed, but there was none of that either.  

Moreover, it didn’t seem particularly well-cleaned.  

Dust piled up everywhere, and Toru’s footsteps left prints in the corridors. The air was almost like that of an abandoned house… there was no sense of life.  

“…What a weird situation this turned into.”  

Walking down the hallway, Toru sighed and spoke quietly.  

As he’d told Chaika—if they resorted to force to seize the “remains,” they’d have to face off against the dragoon cavalier Dominica Škoda. But whether two mere saboteurs and one mage could fight a dragoon cavalier was, frankly, highly doubtful.  

“To think I’d end up having to face a dragoon cavalier…”  

Dragoon cavaliers were, fundamentally, a different breed from other knights or warriors.  

Their mindset was closer to that of demi-human soldiers.  

To those with harsh tongues, dragoon cavaliers were “those who sold their soul and dignity to Feyra” or “part of a monster.” Many didn’t even consider them human anymore.  

Dragoon cavaliers exchanged or grafted parts of their body with an armored dragon, becoming “part of the dragon.”  

In other words, the Feyra Dragoon could treat the cavalier as “part of its own body,” extending the effects of its magic to them, just as it would to itself.  

“A dragoon… huh.”  

On the Felbist Continent, several species were called dragons, but these weren’t Feyra—things like wyverns or lesser dragons. They couldn’t use magic and weren’t particularly intelligent. “Just oversized lizards,” some called them. There was a lesser dragon colony near the Acura village, so Toru was fairly familiar with them.  

In contrast… Dragoons were Feyra.  

They used magic, had high intelligence, and—as their name suggested—wore armor.  

More precisely, they could harden and transform parts of their body to drastically increase their defense. In essence, dragon magic was the magic of “body transformation.”  

This wasn’t just about avoiding injury.  

With body transformation magic, even severe wounds could be instantly repaired.  

And the dragoon cavalier, being part of the dragon, was the same.  

Through the “contract,” the dragon’s magic extended to the cavalier, even at a distance.  

Thus, dragoon cavaliers couldn’t be disarmed or “half-killed.” If they wished, they could use the dragon’s magic to instantly don armor or even forge swords or spears as an extension of it. Unless critical vitals like the head or heart were destroyed, they could repair their body.  

This alone made dragoon cavaliers a significant threat.  

But in reality, the dragoon’s own attack power added to this.  

Said to effortlessly carry cows or horses while flying, their massive bodies naturally possessed strength far beyond human comparison. Punching, kicking , sweeping with their tail and flapping with their wings. Even these simple attacks from a dragon could collapse a house in one blow or punch holes in castle walls.  

Not using magic for attacks didn’t mean their attack power was weak.  

“If only there was some kind of weakness…”  

In truth, little was known about the ecology of armored dragons.  

Their population was already small, and since dragoon cavaliers became military secrets in various nations, information about them had dwindled even further. Toru had only heard stories from veteran saboteurs who’d returned from battlefields, never having seen one himself.  

Apparently, the dragons were elusive… Even soldiers in the same camp as a dragoon cavalier would suddenly notice one there, with no one knowing how it approached—its stealthy movements, despite its massive size, inspired fear.  

“If it’s that big, fighting inside the mansion might be an option—but if the whole place gets smashed and we’re buried alive, that would be a gameover.”  

If it came to a fight, luring Dominica Škoda into the mansion might at least prevent the dragoon itself from intervening.  

While thinking this, Toru opened a door and stepped into the courtyard—  

“…!?”  

There stood a lone girl.  

Like a single flower blooming in a desert—utterly abrupt.  

The courtyard had a small flowerbed, almost as an afterthought, but it held no flowers, only weeds. As if to compensate for the neglected state of the flowerbed, the girl stood there, delicate and pure.  

“Who…?”  

Toru’s voice carried a hint of tension.  

He hadn’t sensed the girl’s presence at all.  

(One of that Guy fellow’s allies?)  

Even staring directly at her, he felt no presence.  

She looked to be in her early teens, about Chaika’s age or perhaps one or two years younger.  

Wearing a pale pink dress, her long hair was tied with a red hairpiece. Her appearance was lovely but not ostentatiously flashy. She gave off a fragile, pristine impression, like a refined maiden.  

“…Um.”  

Toru called out.  

But the girl didn’t react.  

Who… is she? There was no presence in this mansion besides Dominica. She’d said so, and the lack of other signs confirmed it. There were techniques to suppress one’s presence, but to stand right in front of him and still give off no trace—that was abnormal.  

“This is—”  

Toru approached her, observing closely.  

As expected, the girl paid no attention to his presence.  

She merely gazed vacantly into the void.  

It was almost as if—  

“…Hm.”  

Toru crouched, picked up a piece of gravel from the courtyard, and flicked it at the girl. The gravel flew straight toward her—  

“Just as I thought.”  

—And passed through.  

The girl was an illusion. A mirage… or perhaps a projection.  

Toru had heard of devices that could display intangible illusions as if they were real. It might seem like magic, but it was apparently done with purely mechanical means. Of course, illusions were fragile and changes in temperature, humidity, or light could blur them, revealing their nature.  

“A substitute for someone’s portrait, huh?”  

Toru muttered, frowning.  

The illusion was so vivid, almost tangible in its density, that out of curiosity, Toru reached out—  

“—Don’t touch.”  

A quiet voice spoke.  

“…”  

Toru turned around to that voice.  

Of course, he’d noticed the approaching presence, but…  

“Ah… no… I was…”  

Toru hurriedly feigned a flustered demeanor.  

At the edge of the courtyard Dominica was standing.  

“…Sorry.” As if ashamed of the words she’d just thrown, Dominica shook her head. “It’s not something you could touch even if you tried.”  

“…No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Toru bowed with a polite gesture. “It was just so beautiful…”  

“…Beautiful, huh.”  

Dominica murmured, lowering her eyes as if lost in thought.  

After a moment she looked back at Toru with a faint smile.  

“Thank you.”  

“…This person? Is she your relative or something?”  

Even as he asked, Toru had a rough guess.  

The illusory girl… had certain similarities to Dominica. He wondered if it was Dominica as a child, but while there were several specific shared traits, the overall vibe was different. Dominica lacked the fragile, swaying flower like quality of this girl. Instead, she had the resolute strength of a tree rooted firmly in the earth.  

“…Lucie Škoda, my sister.”  

Dominica answered—after what seemed like a momentary hesitation.  

“I see.”  

Nodding, Toru looked again at Lucie’s illusion.  

Her appearance somehow reminded him of Chaika, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how. Perhaps that was why Dominica was so kind to them.  

“…”  

“…”  

Silence settled between Toru and Dominica.  

For a while, the two gazed at Lucie’s illusion, but…  

“You’re not going to ask?”  

Dominica asked, as if suddenly tired of the quiet.  

As mentioned, there was no one else in this mansion. Dominica had said so, and the lack of other presences confirmed it. That meant… Dominica wasn’t living with her sister.  

Displaying her sister’s illusion in the courtyard.  

The implications—and the possible reasons—weren’t many. Especially if she felt such instinctive rejection to someone touching the illusion, it suggested a deep, heavy attachment.  

Like clinging to something that could never be reclaimed.  

In other words…  

“She passed away?”  

“…Yes.”  

Dominica said with a self-mocking expression.  

As if relieved to be asked, she let out a sigh and continued.  

“While I was out at war.”  

“…”  

Just as Toru had once told Chaika about a girl named Hasmin,  

Perhaps Dominica, too, wanted someone to hear her story—someone unrelated, with no stakes. Maybe that’s why she not only saved Toru’s group but invited them to her mansion. Or perhaps, having heard Akari’s fabricated backstory, she felt a sense of guilt or a need to balance the scales by sharing her own secret.  

“She was my precious sister but she died. I couldn’t protect her.”  

“My condolences.”  

Toru said simply.  

He knew that cheap words of comfort could sometimes trample on the feelings of those left behind. No matter how many words you strung together, the dead wouldn’t return. Silence could be a form of mourning too.  

“I became a Dragoon Cavalier to give my sister a safer, richer life. Our parents died early, so it was just the two of us, sisters, living side by side…”  Dominica gave a self-deprecating smile. “It’s a foolish story. I became a dragoon cavalier for my sister’s sake, but in the end, because I was a dragoon cavalier, I couldn’t be by her side to protect her.”  

Dragoon cavaliers were a formidable force.  

Their exceptional defensive power made them ideal for leading the charge on the battlefield.  

A single dragoon cavalier could significantly reduce a unit’s—or an army’s casualty rate. No matter her personal circumstances she likely couldn’t have left during the war. Her presence alone saved countless lives. No matter how much she wanted to see her sister, she couldn’t tell her allied soldiers to “die” for that reason alone.  

(Is that why she lives like a recluse?)  

Having lost the most important thing to her, she probably had no interest in the power of a lord or the fame of a dragoon cavalier.  

“The Škoda family was originally a fallen knightly lineage.” Dominica continued, speaking slowly. “My father went to war and never returned, my mother died of illness… Our lands were small, with no means to hire help. It was a house that could’ve vanished at any moment. With only two sisters, the people looked down on the Škoda family. Tax collection faltered… and life grew harder.”  

No matter how much tax revenue dwindled, a lord had to maintain a lordly lifestyle.  

Living like a common villager wouldn’t do. That would only further erode the respect and awe the Škoda family commanded. A lord had to be feared and revered.  

But… with Dominica gone to war, some among the people saw the Škoda family—left with only a girl not yet of age—as an easy target.  

They stormed the Škoda household, demanding all its wealth be given to the people.  

The façade of lordship they’d barely maintained was, to them, “extravagance.” They accused the Škoda family of indulging in luxury while the villagers suffered in poverty, doing nothing to help.  

Lucie, her sister… had no choice but to hand over most of the household’s possessions.  

But she refused to give up a few heirlooms—ancestral swords, armor, and artworks bestowed by the king. These were the last line that made the Škoda family a knightly house. The Škoda family that her mother had died protecting, that her sister had entrusted to her—Lucie must have felt she had to protect its honor.  

But such sentiments were lost on the people.  

In their irrational rage, some villagers attacked Lucie knocking her down, she hit her head badly, her condition worsened, and eventually she meet death.  

“You might have heard in Ratison.” Dominica said, her expression twisting with self-mockery. “When I learned the truth… I killed the people who laid hands on my sister.”  

(…So she is the ‘villager killer’ in Ratison...the rumours were true.)  

Toru nodded inwardly.  

Dominica’s actions could be seen as a lord delivering justice to those who attacked her family… but killing them unilaterally, without a trial, would be viewed as madness, no matter her status. Especially as a dragoon cavalier—those villagers would’ve had no means to resist.  

“I was prepared for punishment… but ironically, I’d earned several major merits in the war’s final days… so the king spared me, and I was given this land to settle in.”  

“…I see.”  

Her lack of interest in governing her territory likely stemmed from this. Burdened with the duties of a ruler, only to lose her sister because of it—she’d naturally want to say, “Do whatever you want,” and wash her hands of it.  

“…No. Sorry.”  

Having finished her tale, Dominica shook her head weakly.  

“It’s got nothing to do with you. Consider it payment for your stay and forgive me.”  

“No. Don’t worry about it.”  

Toru replied.  

But—  

(What’s this… sense of unease?)  

A fleeting thought lingered in the back of Toru’s mind.  

There was no lie in Dominica’s story. She had no reason to lie to Toru’s group here.  

But…  

(Is it because time has passed?)  

Dominica’s tone was somehow detached—as if a storyteller reciting a fairy tale. For someone who’d witnessed a tragedy firsthand and killed villagers in a rage, there was no trace of the surging joy, anger, or sorrow you’d expect.  

They say time is the best medicine for the disease of despair.  

Had she, over the years, overcome her sister’s death?  

Or…  

(Is it because she’s a dragoon cavalier?)  

Did the dragon’s magic heal even emotional pain?  

Or did becoming part of a dragoon mean losing human emotions?  

“By the way.” Feigning sudden realization, Toru spoke. “Škoda - sama, you’re a dragoon cavalier, right?”  

“Yes. And?”  

Dominica tilted her head.  

Toru glanced around the courtyard, addressing his biggest concern.  

“I don’t see the Dragoon. Where is it?”  

As mentioned, dragoon cavaliers were “part of the dragoon.”  

The “dragoon’s oath”—the “contract” with the Dragoon—could only be broken by the death of one party. The contract worked even at a distance, so they didn’t need to be together constantly, but… typically, dragoon cavaliers and their dragons stayed close, or so Toru had heard.  

Yet, there was no sign of a dragon in this mansion.  

Of course—it couldn’t be that the dragoon had died. Toru’s group had seen Dominica use the dragoon’s body transformation magic to “change clothes.”  

“Oh… that.”  

Dominica nodded with a vague expression.  

For a moment, she showed a thoughtful look, then—  

“It’s… away for a reason.”  

She said only that.  

She clearly had no intention of elaborating on the “reason.”  

“Well, that’s probably more convenient.”  

“Meaning…?”  

“To normal people, a dragoon is—a kind of Feyra. If it was lurking nearby, you all wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly. Even on the battlefield, soldiers tried to camp as far from me as possible.”  

“I hear Dragoons are a class apart…?”  

Even among “Feyra,” Dragoons and great sea demons were said to have intelligence far beyond others, making them resistant to full mental domination via magic. Conversely, it was their intelligence that allowed a mutual relationship—a “contract”—rather than one-sided domination or servitude.  

“They’re the same.” Dominica shook her head.  “A monster is a monster no matter what the dragon thinks. So humans—Ah no.”  

Starting to say something, Dominica trailed off, shaking her head as if reconsidering.  

“Anyway, don’t worry about it.”  

“…Alright.”  

Toru responded vaguely.  

Being told not to worry didn’t mean he could just let it go.  

If they ended up having to fight Dominica to take the “remains,” not knowing where the armored dragon was could leave them open to a surprise attack.  

That said… first, they needed to confirm if Dominica even had the “remains.”  

“Speaking of which, Lady Škoda.”  

“What?”  

“You mentioned earning merits during the war.”  

“…Yes. The result of fighting desperately.”  

“What kind, specifically?”  

“I took part in the Gaz Empire’s capital defense battle.”  

Dominica said casually.  

But not with pride—her expression was melancholic, almost as if confessing a shame. Likely because of her sister that she couldn’t take pride in her achievements.  

“This territory was granted by His Majesty for those deeds. Honestly, now that Lucie’s gone, land like this is just a burden…”  

“So, no o interest in worldly power, fame, or wealth anymore?”  

“…Yes. I can’t muster any interest.”  

Dominica affirmed, again casually.  

(…Then.)  

She might have already parted with the “remains.”  

Or, if she still had them—negotiation might be possible.  

“Is something up?”  

Dominica asked, her expression puzzled.  

Apparently, he’d probed too much.  

“No… it’s just, for a lord or noble, you’re not very… you know.”  

“Living plainly?”  

Dominica gave a wry smile.  

“Yeah, to put it bluntly. So I wondered why.”  

“Honestly, I don’t have anything I want anymore.” Dominica said in a flat tone. “But if someone insisted I name a desire, anything at all—”  

She paused, her words catching.  

With a distant look, as if recalling something, Dominica gazed into the void.  

“If they insisted?”  

Toru prompted.  

She hesitated for a moment before answering…  

“It’s really an improper thing to say.” Dominica returned her gaze to Toru and said finally. “I want to stand on the battlefield again.”  

“…”  

The peaceful era that followed the long age of warring states.  

Toru had thought only a few, like himself, were weary of it—probably not the majority, but still, he hadn’t expected to meet someone else longing for the return of war.  

Especially not someone who fought to destroy the Gaz Empire’s emperor.  

Even Chaika didn’t wish for war—  

“Right, it's almost time about the meals.”  

Dominica said, abruptly changing her expression.  

“Oh… yes.”  

“To be honest, I don’t have much in the way of ingredients. I hunt occasionally, so there’s smoked deer or boar meat… but that’s about it.”  

“No it's fine, no need to trouble yourself as we can handle it ourselves. Thank you for your concern anyways.”  

Toru said, bowing. In fact, the Svetlana carried enough preserved food and ingredients for the three of them to last about a week.  

“I see. Then feel free to use the kitchen as you like.”  

“…Right.”  

Toru nodded.  

But—  

(What’s this feeling? Something… doesn't feel right. )  

If asked what, he couldn’t put it into words.  

In the back of Toru’s mind, several formless senses of unease lingered vaguely.