Theresa agreed to the transaction.
The war had grown ever more brutal, and a shipment of military supplies of such value was no small boon to Babel Tower.
"But you should be fully aware," Theresa said evenly, "that Babel Tower cannot place blind trust in you. You will be subject to our surveillance, and certain areas will remain strictly off-limits to you."
Within the reception chamber, Kal'tsit sat beside Theresa, facing Satan across the table. His posture was as refined and composed as ever.
If he were merely an arms dealer, he would never have warranted an audience with Babel Tower's highest authorities.
But Satan was not just an arms dealer. In truth, the trade of weapons was only one branch of his greater enterprise.
His true merchandise was wishes.
And behind him stood the Satan Foundation—a not insignificant force in its own right.
The Foundation primarily managed his affairs, handling transport and logistics. Though technically a commercial organization, its standing among the Sarkaz was far from trivial.
Especially among those who, once grown, had been "pushed" out by Satan after receiving his aid as war orphans.
This reputation was born of his habit of rescuing children from war.
Of course, not all accounts painted him kindly.
Whispers persisted—rumors that he forced naïve children into contracts before they were old enough to understand, binding them as his possessions.
Others accused him of treating those he adopted as commodities, sold off to nobles and warlords for their amusement.
Opinions diverged. The reputation of the Satan Foundation remained mixed.
Babel Tower, too, tried within its power to aid those in need, but the crushing weight of Theresa' presence often left them stretched thin.
For reasons unknown, Theresa seemed content to tolerate the Foundation acting as a third party, extending relief to children on the battlefield.
---
"Of course. I only wish to look upon this ancient landship, a relic of distant ages."
Satan's gaze wandered idly about the room.
He could sense it clearly—should he make even the slightest suspicious move, the hidden guards would strike him down without hesitation.
It would take the lives of dozens of his contractors merely to claw his way out alive.
So that one… is the wraith of Babel Tower?
His attention shifted to the hooded figure, standing silent in the shadows, body wrapped completely in concealing garb.
A presence even Theresa herself finds troublesome?
He resolved to test that one when the chance came—when he "toured" Rhodes Island.
If an opportunity to eliminate them arose, he would not hesitate.
Strike without mercy, or do not strike at all.
The moment they chose to stand at the Sarkaz King's side, they had become Kashchey's enemies.
---
"But I would ask," Satan continued smoothly, "that you keep your surveillance subtle. As a dignified merchant, I cannot endure the feeling of being watched so brazenly, so crudely violated by open stares…"
Theresa met his eyes, her voice soft and conciliatory.
"I apologize, Mr. Satan. Your concerns will be taken into account… but the safety of Babel Tower must always come first."
Just then, W pushed open the chamber doors, intending to enter.
But the tension in the air struck her immediately, halting her mid-step.
Her instincts as a mercenary screamed at her—better to stay far away from this dangerous place.
"Oh? Is this the one you've sent to keep watch over me?"
Satan's gaze slid toward W, his smile tinged with mockery as she lingered awkwardly at the threshold.
Are they so confident in this mercenary's loyalty to Theresa? Or is it that she never told Babel Tower that I once saved her? Or perhaps…
His eyes shifted back to Theresa.
On her face rested a gentle, reassuring smile.
Reassurance? What a convincing mask.
Kashchey would never believe the so-called Sarkaz King was anything like the legends—a merciful ruler to her people.
He had grown sick of such façades long ago.
Satan understood.
Theresa must be testing this mercenary's loyalty to her.
It made sense. According to the intelligence Theresis had provided, his "little sister" had a certain aversion to mind-reading and rarely used it.
And mind-reading, to be accurate, had to remain active constantly. Only then could it be trusted to yield results with absolute certainty.
But terran thoughts were fickle. Few could ever hold to their original intent forever.
Moreover, mind-reading carried side effects.
Terrans naturally possessed empathy, but mind-reading was a purer, far more invasive form of communion. It inevitably struck back at the caster, destabilizing them.
Even a consciousness-lifeform like the Black Snake would never abuse mind-reading, lest it risk fracturing itself.
---
"This is the cafeteria."
W pointed to a closed electronic door.
"Of course, it isn't mealtime yet."
She felt terribly awkward.
What exactly did Her Highness mean by assigning her this role?
By all logic, shouldn't I avoid suspicion instead? she fretted silently.
"Child, are you perhaps wondering why Her Highness sent you to monitor me~?"
Satan strolled beside her down the corridor, shoulder to shoulder.
"…No."
"Why, it's because she trusts you, of course!"
"…What did you just say?"
W turned, disbelief plain in her eyes.
She couldn't make sense of it. Moments ago, this man had been in a standoff with Babel Tower, yet now he was suddenly speaking in Theresa' favor.
"What other explanation could there be, besides her trust in you?"
Satan met her gaze with practiced sincerity.
It threw W off balance.
Normally, anyone who dared stare into her eyes like that would've been blown sky-high without hesitation.
But this man… he had once saved her life, when she was a starving child.
Truth be told, when the call came in earlier, W hadn't wanted to respond.
She couldn't bear the thought of these two fighting—two people who had both saved her.
One had rescued her at her weakest.
The other had saved her life again, and was the very sovereign she had sworn allegiance to.
It left her torn, caught between debts she could never repay.
---
"S-So… that's it?"
Her thoughts muddled, W struggled to find her footing.
Of course not, Satan sneered inwardly as he watched her brighten.
A ruler like Theresa could never place true trust in a mere mercenary.
Even with mind-reading, no ruler would so easily hand over their trust.
Mind-reading revealed the past and present—but never the future.
And the more one relied upon it, the more suspicious, the more doubtful they became.
---
But outwardly, his expression remained warm, unshaken.
"Of course," Satan said smoothly, pressing his advantage.
He could sense watchers lurking in the shadows nearby, keeping him under scrutiny.
So be it. To show "goodwill," he would keep stringing this foolish mercenary along.
It cost him nothing but words.
---
To meet her savior again—surely that must make W happy, Theresa thought.
She had no inkling of the silent battle of thoughts between the two.
Her only intent was to ease the tension between Babel Tower and Satan.
In her eyes, a man who still showed traces of kindness—like Satan—was undoubtedly a potential ally.
Why, then, does Kal'tsit oppose this…?