“That—”

Where is the Pope?

The head steward could not properly answer the question Cale had thrown at him.

“That is not something I can tell you.”

And at the answer he finally gave, Cale only smiled in satisfaction.

Then he asked another question.

“Does Young Master Jimon know about gray sickness?”

“......!”

The outer corners of the head steward’s eyes trembled.

Once again, the head steward could not open his mouth.

Leaning back against his chair, Cale withdrew his dominating aura.

“You can go.”

Cale dismissed the head steward.

The old man could only barely look at him, and when their eyes met, Cale elaborated a little further.

“Go to Young Master Jimon.”

The tone was light—so light it carried no weight at all—but the head steward still had to struggle to steady his trembling body before bowing deeply.

Then he carefully walked to the door and took hold of the handle.

“Ah.”

Cale’s voice reached his back.

“Purification of Chaos is possible.”

The head steward sucked in a sharp breath.

Click.

Slowly, he left the dining room.

“......”

Standing by the window, Clopeh watched the real head steward blend in among the other servants and head from the annex toward the main castle. Then he spoke.

“Lord Cale.”

“Yeah.”

“It seems the structure hasn’t collapsed as badly as we thought.”

The corners of Cale’s lips rose, and he nodded in satisfaction.

“That’s right. At the very least, it looks like Young Master Jimon still has control of Moraka Castle.”

The servants and the head steward were moving according to Jimon’s wishes while avoiding the eyes of the Order of the God of Chaos.

And on top of that, the head steward was loyal to Jimon.

At the very least, inside Moraka Castle, it meant Young Master Jimon had not had everything taken from him by the Order of the God of Chaos.

“He’s more useful than I expected.”

At Cale’s words, Clopeh smiled.

He recalled the question Cale had just asked.

He asked whether Jimon knew about the Pope.

And there had been one more.

He even brought up gray sickness.

As expected, Lord Cale was not simply judging Young Master Jimon to be an ally.

As for how things would unfold from here, Clopeh felt a keen sense of anticipation.

“Clopeh.”

At that moment, Cale’s voice rang out, pulling Clopeh out of his thoughts.

The instant he met Cale’s eyes—those eyes fixed directly on him—he felt an inexplicable chill.

Cale slowly opened his mouth.

“Stop wasting time on pointless thoughts and eat first.”

Something about the gleam in Clopeh’s eyes rubbed him the wrong way, so Cale tossed out the remark and turned his full attention to the meal.

“It’s good!”

“It tastes better than yesterday.”

“Hehe. It’s delicious! Clopeh, you should eat too!”

At the average ten-year-olds’ words, Clopeh gave them a small smile, then returned to his seat and picked up his spoon.

Glance.

His eyes briefly shifted toward Cale.

As expected.

As expected, Lord Cale was not someone to be underestimated.

The moment Clopeh had almost forgotten that this place was reality and had begun to find it interesting like a mere story—

Lord Cale had reminded him that this was real, and made it impossible for him to treat the world as nothing but entertainment.

As expected, he is different.

He truly was different.

“Heh.”

Letting out a low laugh, Clopeh began eating.

...That lunatic isn’t about to pull something weird, is he?

Cale watched him with a deeply suspicious expression.

Then he noticed Team Leader Sui Khan staring straight at both him and Clopeh.

What?

He mouthed the question, and Sui Khan let out a sigh before replying.

“Eat.”

At that, Cale obediently resumed eating.

The food really was better than yesterday.

A satisfied smile spread over Cale’s lips.

*****

Knock knock!

At the crisp sound of the knock, Young Master Jimon shot to his feet.

The door opened at a measured pace, and the moment Jimon saw the old head steward step inside, he could not hide his anxiety.

“—”

But he could not say anything.

Because through the gap in the open door, he could see one holy knight glancing inside.

“I’ve brought refreshments for your morning tea.”

The old head steward closed the door calmly and laid out the tea spread on the table.

Clink, clink.

He was not making noise on purpose. The tea service simply appeared before Jimon through movements that were natural and elegant.

“......”

But Jimon did not sit.

He only stared at the head steward, utterly unable to hide his anxiety.

“Excessive worry is not good for you.”

The old head steward said that, but—

Jimon had already spotted the sheet of paper and the pen hidden beneath the very bottom of the cookie basket.

Any paper and pen in the study could be searched at any time by the Order of the God of Chaos bastards, so whenever they needed to communicate in writing, the head steward would always bring paper and pen from somewhere else, then take them out again and dispose of them immediately.

Those bastards from the Order of the God of Chaos act as though they respect me on the surface, but their surveillance is only getting stricter.

Surveillance and control under the guise of protection.

Thankfully, there were no eyes watching inside this room.

When Count Lupe had still been alive, before the still-young Jimon inherited Moraka Castle, he had worried that other factions might assassinate him. That was why he had layered this room with top-tier defensive magic.

Because of that, the best the Order of the God of Chaos could do for “security” was station holy knights outside the door. They must have been acting like this because they thought they had already completely taken control of the castle.

And ever since Young Master Jimon learned their intentions and methods, he had behaved in an even more violent and desperate manner.

All to deceive their eyes.

Crunch.

He deliberately bit into a cookie loudly as he wrote on the paper.

<How was it?>

The head steward wrote a reply beneath it.

<They know about both the Order of the God of Chaos and gray sickness.>

“......!”

Jimon froze in the middle of eating the cookie.

They know about the Pope and gray sickness too?

That Kase?

Young Master Jimon could hardly believe it.

Because even the Demon King did not know that yet.

They’re more terrifying than the Demon King.

Young Master Jimon regretted joining hands with the Order of the God of Chaos.

After Count Lupe’s disappearance, Dioriel had fallen into chaos.

And into that gap had stepped Terosa, a subordinate of the Demon King, who had tried to swallow up Dioriel territory.

Watching that, Young Master Jimon had suspected that they were the ones who killed his uncle, since Count Lupe had not taken the Demon King’s side.

That was when the Order of the God of Chaos appeared.

They had shown Young Master Jimon Count Lupe’s clothes and the belongings he had always carried, and told him that the Demon King’s side had killed him.

I never should have taken their hand.

To protect Dioriel and check the Demon King—

or, to be a little more honest, to avenge Count Lupe, the only true family he had ever had among his vulture-like relatives—

Young Master Jimon had joined hands with the Order of the God of Chaos.

Because it had seemed like these people might truly be capable of bringing down the current Demon King.

My uncle seemed to have ties to the remnants of the previous Demon King’s side, but...

Young Master Jimon had had no way of reaching them.

And he had seen no reason to join hands with a force that had failed to protect even his uncle and done nothing but hide.

...Gray sickness...

Then, about a month ago, Jimon had started to feel that something was wrong after suddenly seeing a large number of holy knights appear and move throughout the Demon World, and that was when he learned about something called gray sickness.

No.

To be precise, the Order had made sure he learned.

And then—

What do you think?

The Pope had asked in a gentle voice.

Gray sickness is a disease that demons who rely on gray mana would recognize all too easily, is it not?

Young Master Jimon had not been able to get angry at him.

He had not been able to say a single word.

No one in Dioriel territory will die of gray sickness.

Not that they would not contract it.

That they would not die from it.

Dioriel territory will be the first place saved by the power of chaos.

Saying that, the Pope had then asked Young Master Jimon:

Young Master, you aren’t thinking of betraying us, are you?

He had smiled gently as he spoke.

The moment you inform the Demon King, not only you, but all of Dioriel territory will be swallowed by gray sickness and die.

His voice had felt like a hammer falling upon Jimon himself—the fool who had chosen the wrong side and taken a hand he never should have taken.

Young Master Jimon. Even the Demon King cannot cure gray sickness.

Pour—

“Ah.”

The sound of tea being poured brought Jimon back to himself.

Only then did he realize he had broken into a cold sweat and his breathing had become ragged.

The head steward, who had been with him since childhood and was more like a grandfather to him than anyone else, handed him a teacup full of warm tea.

Jimon took a sip.

Once his insides felt a little warmer—

<Young Master.>

The head steward wrote again.

<The second brother was the leader.>

The second brother?

That dim-witted one?

<There was also a Cat Tribe member and a dragon.>

......!

Young Master Jimon’s eyes widened so far they looked ready to burst red.

Kase.

Who in the world was that man?

<The second brother says he saved Count Lupe.>

No—the second brother.

Who was he?

And how could someone like that hide his presence so perfectly?

Young Master Jimon felt chills break out all over him.

It was a different kind of shock from when he had faced the Pope of the Order of the God of Chaos.

And then came the next line from the head steward.

<Purification of Chaos. It is possible, he says.>

“Ah.”

A sound escaped Young Master Jimon’s mouth before he knew it.

Without thinking, he shoved a cookie into his mouth and swallowed it roughly.

It felt like he had to do something—anything.

Purification of Chaos is possible?

The power of chaos the Pope had spoken of—the thing that would save Dioriel—he had called it purification.

The Pope had said that through purification, he would gather up all the gray sickness spread throughout Dioriel and make the city the site of the first temple to the God of Chaos.

His throat burned.

Young Master Jimon gulped down tea that was still slightly too hot as though it were cold water.

“Hah, haha—”

Laughter spilled from him.

The Demon King and the Order of the God of Chaos.

Those two factions had weighed on him so heavily that it had felt as though his head might burst.

To the point that even avenging Count Lupe—his uncle—had begun to feel like a luxury.

And then new people had appeared in the middle of all that.

The ones who saved my uncle.

They had already figured out the Order of the God of Chaos.

And on top of that, they had pulled in the Demon King’s forces and entered this place.

“Wow—”

Young Master Jimon marveled sincerely.

“That’s terrifying.”

It really was terrifying.

Neither the Order of the God of Chaos nor the Demon King’s side would know the true extent of Kase’s strength right now.

They would be wary of him, yes—but they would never realize that the real dagger was hiding behind him.

“Wow. Seriously.”

He could do nothing but marvel.

The head steward wrote again.

<Should we save them tonight?>

At that question, Young Master Jimon, now far more at ease, nibbled on a cookie and wrote his reply.

<Uncle chose them, not the Demon King, not the Order of the God of Chaos.>

In other words, it was not for them to save those people.

<What did they want?>

At Jimon’s question, the head steward answered.

<The Pope’s location.>

Jimon nodded, then walked over to the desk and pulled out a small parchment hidden in the crack of a drawer.

The head steward accepted it with a stiff face.

It was a map of Moraka Castle’s interior.

And the locations of the Order of the God of Chaos were marked on it as well.

A little while later—

“I’ll be changing the bed linens.”

Several servants headed toward the annex.

And among them, one middle-aged woman pulled the parchment map from her clothes and handed it to Cale.

Grin.

Looking over the map, Cale casually remarked:

“He works fast.”

The words were meant for Jimon.

And that remark would soon be relayed to Jimon through the middle-aged woman, then the head steward.

Patting the freshly changed sheets, Cale went on:

“Looks like we can just sleep soundly tonight. Right?”

That message too—that Young Master Jimon should simply stay put and sleep tonight—would be conveyed to him.

*****

Tonight.

The Order of the God of Chaos would come to kill Cale’s group and the Demon King’s side alike.

Chew chew.

Cale swallowed a piece of steak as he looked out the window, now stained red by the setting sun.

Ever since yesterday, he had been eating well, sleeping well, and living an extremely healthy life.

Was this what life as an unemployed loafer felt like?

Human, why do you look so wistful?Cale did not answer Raon’s question and simply enjoyed the moment.

But the atmosphere at the table was anything but relaxed.

“Mr. Kase.”

The New Business Department manager glanced once at the second brother, who was putting on a foolish face, then fixed his gaze on Clopeh Sekka.

This evening, the three from the Demon King’s side whom Terosa had attached to them had invited them to dine together.

And the reason was obvious.

“What exactly did you discuss with Young Master Jimon yesterday?”

Clopeh Sekka elegantly ate a piece of steak, then set down his fork and knife.

After that, he lightly dabbed at the corner of his mouth.

The entire process looked graceful—far too practiced to be anything else.

“Wow.”

One of the demons reacted to that.

It was not the New Business Department manager, nor the middle-aged knight.

It was Mol, leader of the Demon King’s Third Army, the Hand Behind the Back. Letting out a note of admiration, he said:

“You really do look like a noble. No matter how I look at you, you don’t seem like a merchant.”

The moment his cool gaze settled on Clopeh—

Clopeh thought of Cale blankly staring out the window, of Raon somewhere nearby under invisibility, and of On, Hong, and Sui Khan comfortably eating upstairs on the second floor.

Then he opened his mouth.

“As expected, General Mol, you are sharp.”

Mol, who had been pretending to be the rookie knight Rom, let the smile at the corner of his mouth deepen.

“Yeah. Something felt off.”

His mood was not good at the moment.

After quietly observing Moraka Castle and Kase over the course of yesterday and today, he had come to just one conclusion.

“What are you?”

He asked.

“Are you trying to stab me in the back right now?”

The atmosphere in the dining room turned cold.

The New Business Department manager and the middle-aged knight could not even move properly as they drew in sharp breaths.

Clopeh elegantly lifted the wineglass at his side and spoke to Mol.

“Count Lupe—my father—said this.”

His voice was refined to an almost absurd degree.

Not the voice of a merchant, but of someone born a high noble, someone raised from birth with strict etiquette, bearing, and grace.

That was why the others only now truly felt that he did, indeed, look like the bloodline of Count Lupe, a high-ranking noble.

Looking at Mol, Clopeh spoke.

“If I die, it will be the Demon King’s doing.”

Mol’s brow lifted slightly.

And as the smile at the corner of his mouth grew deeper, Clopeh continued with a smile of his own.

“So I dragged you into this place, where the Order of the God of Chaos is hiding. My own little revenge. I did it hoping you’d all die, after all.”

That was ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) the moment—

“Hah, haha—”

Mol burst into laughter.

Oddly enough, it sounded almost relieved. His expression looked cleaner, more at ease.

Mol did not mind stabbing people in the back, but hated being stabbed in the back more than death itself.

Watching that refreshingly open laughter, Cale thought to himself:

The fight tonight isn’t just going to be a mess. It’s going to be a full-on mud fight.

Very satisfying.

Pretending to be cowed by Mol’s pressure, Cale laughed inwardly.

Human, you don’t look scared at all!At Raon’s words, Cale hunched his shoulders more, lowered his head, and pretended to shrink in on himself.

Night would be here soon.