"Boss... I swear, I only heard it from the islanders! That jerk wouldn't say a single sensible word—he just kept reciting that poem as he left!"
Fatso covered his face, his voice thick with mock misery.
He wasn't lying, though. After being teleported back from the Pilgrimage Assembly on Cosmos Isle, he'd discovered the island had been attacked and immediately started digging for information. The tourists didn't know a thing, but the Dissenters stationed there had heard rumors. Using his shameless, overly friendly charm, Fatso managed to wheedle a cryptic poem out of them. When Ethan asked about it, he came running over like a child eager to show off a treasure.
"Uh..." Ethan hesitated, realizing he might have misjudged him.
"Alright then, explain it to me. What does it mean?" he asked, rubbing his nose with exaggerated patience.
"That... that... I don't know either!" Fatso stammered.
Smack.
Ethan's hand, which had been rubbing his nose, swung out in a quick backhand.
