"Good afternoon~ My most esteemed Lady Kal'tsit."
"…Kashchey. What are you doing here?"
"No need to be so tense, Senior Kal'tsit. Calling you senior shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"…Kashchey. If you've come here just to flaunt that pitiful excuse for charm you call social skill, then I'm afraid we have nothing to discuss."
You're one to talk. Your social skills are worse than mine.
"Come now, no need to be so hostile, Senior Kal'tsit. I know you might still hold some bias against me over Theresa's death, but truly—you've misunderstood me. I didn't kill her. The former Sarkaz King… she's not dead yet~"
"…Tell me everything about Her Highness's current condition."
"Oh~ of course. Consider it part of the medical expenses I owe you."
---
"Mephisto, tell us slowly—what exactly happened?"
"…This is Miss Talulah's private matter. I promised her I wouldn't speak of it."
"…Skullshatterer? Faust?"
"..."
"..."
"It doesn't matter if you refuse to tell me."
Patriot's cold gaze swept across the three, tracing the scars and burn marks marring their bodies.
Within them, he could sense remnants of a familiar Originium Arts signature—
one that belonged to the current Duke Kashchey.
The three remained silent.
They had promised Talulah to keep the matter secret.
Besides, they themselves barely understood what had truly happened.
"When Talulah returns, I'll ask her myself."
---
"..."
The Doctor sat alone in his quarters.
Kal'tsit. Rhodes Island. Amiya… Theresa?
---
"You Rhodes Islanders really do have impressive medical technology."
Kashchey flexed his fingers, feeling his body finally stabilize.
For days he had been forced to continuously channel Originium Arts just to keep this vessel alive.
"Save your flattery, Black Snake."
Kal'tsit calmly stowed her surgical tools back in their case.
"Tell me. What has become of Her Highness?"
"Sigh… Kal'tsit, I can't quite understand why you care so much for Theresa."
Kashchey lay back on the bed, staring absently at the nutrient solution hanging beside him.
"You've aided Iberia's founding. You've served Ursus. Even Victoria has felt your hand at work."
His voice turned slow, deliberate.
"But in the end, you abandoned them all, didn't you, Kal'tsit?"
He tried to sit up, but weakness forced him to remain flat on the bed.
…Talulah, the next time I see you, I'm punching you.
Kal'tsit, unfazed, continued to methodically clean and arrange the surgical equipment.
"Black Snake, you should know that flapping your tongue before understanding your opponent is the act of a fool."
"Ah, but I'm not as well-read as you, Senior. Still—
have you ever considered that perhaps the Sarkaz King has influenced you?"
Kashchey's tone turned sly.
"Otherwise, how else would one explain it? The eternally neutral Lady Kal'tsit, so willing to devote herself completely to her?"
"Your petty attempts at sowing discord won't work on me.
I am immune to Originium influence—and I don't need to justify the bond between myself and Her Highness.
Now, tell me where she is."
Kal'tsit turned to face the bedridden Kashchey, her expression unreadable.
Behind her, the faint growl of a monstrous creature echoed ominously.
"Don't be so hasty~ Of course I'll tell you. But first, a small request, if you don't mind."
"..."
"Tch—keep your pet away from me, would you? I don't like it.
All I wanted to ask was—does Rhodes Island happen to have an opening for an honorary operator?"
"…Black Snake, what are you scheming?"
"Really now, is my reputation that bad?
You wound me, Kal'tsit. To assume I'm some greedy, conniving manipulator—
that's prejudice!"
"…Mon3tr."
"Alright, alright! I'll talk, I'll talk! My most honorable senior…"
Kashchey grinned faintly.
"What do you think of the name—'Association for the Protection of the Immortal and the Feranmuts'?"
"Rhodes Island is not your plaything, Black Snake.
Using one agenda to disguise another may fool lesser minds—but not me."
---
Deep beneath the Duke of Kashchey's manor lay a hidden chamber—
a vast underground vault, sealed away from all light and sound.
At its center coiled a monstrous black snake, motionless, colossal, suffocating.
Countless smaller snakes slithered endlessly from its massive body,
a living tide of writhing shadows.
Before it, a Snake Scale knelt reverently, head bowed low.
To be chosen as a vessel for Duke Kashchey—
for those molded and refined through rigorous training—
was the highest of honors.
The black snakes slowly crawled across the kneeling subordinate's body,
one after another, until they faded into nothingness, merging within his flesh.
Within moments, the snake Scale carried enough of the Black Snake's power
to mend the injuries of both Zhu Jiuyin and the Duke himself.
Go, my faithful servant.
"As you command!"
The subordinate's voice trembled with excitement.
Once a portion of its strength had been sent forth,
the massive snake's body split apart again, fracturing into countless streams of black—
snakes dispersing like smoke, vanishing into every corner of the Duke's domain.
They became one with the land—
omnipresent, unseen, and ever-watchful.
---
Meanwhile, within one of Cape Group's industrial facilities,
two Felines sat in a private meeting room, locked in a heated dispute.
—or rather, one was doing all the shouting.
"Mandragora, can you please get out of my factory?
And stop trying to sell me on your so-called leader, would you?"
Wearing a plain T-shirt and scuffed sneakers,
his fur faintly dusted with soot from the machinery,
Cape Reiss flicked his tail in irritation.
Even his cat ears twitched with annoyance.
He took a long sip from a cheap convenience-store drink,
trying to soothe his dry throat.
"Uh…"
Across from him, a Feline woman with dark green-tinted hair and golden eyes
let out an awkward laugh.
"Mr. Cape—please, I only ask you to reconsider.
Victoria has suffered long enough under that Sarkaz usurper from Kazdel.
It's time we reclaim the throne from that false monarch."
Her eyes were full of hope—and desperation.
She believed if she could win him over, his influence might turn the tide.
The Cape Group lacked noble lineage, but in Victoria, it had already secured a place that no one could ignore.
Even the proudest aristocrats were forced to treat its young CEO and majority shareholder with courtesy.
If she could persuade him, her own faction's leader might finally reclaim the royal crown.
"Mandragora," Reiss sighed, rubbing his temples, "we're not close. Don't act like we are."
If she had merely been trying to exploit his company's influence, he would've thrown her out long ago.
But that wasn't the problem.
She was genuinely trying to help him—naïvely convinced that the Cape Group, for all its wealth, was nothing irreplaceable.
She thought the throne was already within her master's grasp.
That if Reiss joined them, he could earn a noble title, a reward for "helping" their cause.
She believed she was doing it for his own good.
And that—was precisely what troubled the Black Snake most.
If it were an enemy, he would have eliminated them without hesitation.
But what of an enemy who bore him no malice?
One who approached with kindness—and genuine goodwill?
When you can feel the warmth of another's sincerity…
how many can still strike without mercy?
Kashchey could not.
He loved to be loved.
For him, kindness was a flavor—a delicious one.