Ridiculous. Why would I ever do something like that?
And who, exactly, could possibly solve such a dilemma?
Good steel should be used on the blade's edge. Rather than cutting my own flesh to feed the endless masses of the poor, it's far better to invest in the company's growth.
They don't understand gratitude. When a person can barely guarantee their own survival, it's sheer stupidity to talk to them about morality or ethics. All they ever think about is how to get their hands on the next batch of free supplies.
To harm oneself just to help others—how laughable.
That Cautus, of course, doesn't feel the pain—it wasn't his money he was spending.
Spending someone else's wealth to indulge one's sense of justice and righteousness—who wouldn't enjoy that?
However… if all of them were company property, then everything would change.
After all, I, Cape, am in desperate need of production material.
Let's see if that Cautus secretary of mine is capable of handling such a task.
If the boss has to do everything himself, then what are employees even for?
Heh… I was quite fond of you back then.
That look in your eyes—willing to sacrifice everything for survival—was absolutely Captivating.
Sigh… but time changes everything.
Cape despises those who harm themselves to help others… but he doesn't mind when helping others also benefits himself.
---
In the coastal region of Iberia, in a small seaside town known as Saltwind, a bishop clad in a damp, gray robe was meeting a rather unusual guest inside a cold, gloomy chapel.
The guest was a young man with long blue hair, azure eyes, and an air of refined elegance.
But what truly caught attention were the faint blue tendrils writhing and coiling around him—emerging from beneath his robe like living things.
His face bore a strangely androgynous beauty. In his right hand, he held a book of unknown material, its cover etched with complex, indecipherable symbols—neither Terran nor belonging to any known language.
They looked more like the aimless scribbles of madness.
Yet Bishop Quintus gazed at the book with a reverence bordering on envy.
That tome was none other than the Holy Scripture of the Deep Sea Church—the "Song of Ig."
Though its writing seemed chaotic and meaningless, every person who beheld it somehow understood its content.
Even the most illiterate peasant could, by some miracle, comprehend the gospel of the Deep Ones—the so-called "Blessing of the Sea."
Quintus bowed deeply before his guest.
Only one person in the world was permitted to possess such a sacred text: the one said to have been personally blessed by Ig, the leader of the Seaborn themselves.
That man was one of the High Priests of the Deep Sea Church—known to the faithful as Judas.
It was said that without Judas, the fall of Aegir could never have been achieved.
"Please, there's no need for formality, Bishop Quintus," Judas said with a gentle smile.
"We both serve the Seaborn. In the eyes of the Deep, our positions are equal."
He turned slightly, gazing out the window.
Outside, the villagers—gaunt, pale, and hollow-eyed—stared longingly toward the sea, as if expecting food to wash ashore on its own.
"I merely came to bring you good news," Judas continued pleasantly. "And, perhaps, to discuss methods for cultivating stronger faith among your flock."
His expression softened… then soured into distaste as his eyes lingered on the starving townsfolk.
Quintus, what have you been doing here?
Does my Deep Sea Church truly need such low-quality believers?
Of course, it wasn't really Judas thinking that—it was Ig, wearing Judas's flesh.
No—more precisely—it was the Black Snake, speaking through Judas's form, utterly dissatisfied with Quintus's poor management of Saltwind.
This is a complete waste of resources.
My Deep Sea Church doesn't need such cheap faith.
After all, the Seaborn themselves neither understood nor cared about the Church.
Which, by simple logic, meant the Deep Sea Church belonged entirely to Ig—and therefore, solely to the Black Snake.
And if there was one thing the Black Snake despised, it was waste.
Fanatics will always be fanatics… but proper governance cannot rely on zeal alone.
Still, the Snake knew well that the Church of the Deep was nothing more than a loose coalition of self-serving schemers.
He had seen countless such organizations before.
Most of them never truly worshiped their gods—they merely worshiped the reflection of their own desires.
But that didn't matter to Him.
Perhaps somewhere in the world there existed genuine, unwavering loyalty…
But the Black Snake knew He was never that lucky.
For Him, faith was just another resource—useful only for as long as it served its purpose.
After all, emotions are the most unpredictable currency of all.
Somewhere in Siesta—
"Alty, we've been out here for too long…"
"What's wrong, Dan? Don't tell me you're still worried about the ocean."
"How can I not be? Our poor kin out there are already—"
"Of course we're worried. But what good does that do? We finally made it to land for a vacation. Can't you just relax for once?"
"Alright, Frost, don't snap at Dan… At least those troublesome things can't crawl onto the shore."
"Aya, don't forget about that monster called Ig—"
"There's no need to worry, Frost. That Seaborn named Ig has been in a coma for quite a while now. Maybe we should practice our set again? After all, we can't let our fans down at the music festival."
---
"Hey, Ch'en, I need to discuss something with you~"
"…Don't use that tone with me, Talulah. As the leader of Reunion, please mind your words."
"But didn't we already agree earlier? You said we should keep work and personal matters separate~"
"You really have some nerve. You just extorted a massive sum from Lungmen, and now you're—"
"Ehehe~"
"Don't make that face… What kind of outrageous favor are you asking for this time?"
"Well, aren't you going on vacation soon~?"
"…If I recall correctly, you turned down my invitation."
"I couldn't help it! I still have Reunion affairs to take care of. I can't just abandon them and go off to have fun alone. But… I do want the kids to relax a bit. It won't take up much of your time, I promise! Alina and Lyudmila will be there to look after them too!"
"…Talulah, you've become completely shameless."
"Ehehe~"
"…Fine."
Talulah quickly handed over the list she had prepared to the impatient Ch'en.
Ch'en took the file and flipped through the pages one by one.
A white-haired Liberi boy shyly hid behind a green-haired Phidia youth.
"These two are Sasha and Eno."
"Aren't they officers?"
"Yes, but at the end of the day, they're just… pitiful children."
"…"
Ch'en said nothing, continuing to read.
A boy in stockings and a gas mask.
An Elafia girl with ash-gray hair and a gentle smile.
A Lupo woman wearing a black mask, with strands of crimson hair peeking out.
'…Am I going on vacation or babysitting duty?'
For a moment, Ch'en wanted to slam the papers right into Talulah's smug face.
But when she saw the deep dark circles under Talulah's eyes, she couldn't bring herself to.
Lately, Talulah had been swamped—dealing with cooperation talks between Lungmen and Rhodes Island, pushing herself day and night.
"…If we're done here, get out."
"No problem!"
Knowing full well she was pushing her luck, Talulah quickly slipped away.
She still had to visit Rhodes Island for negotiations—and to check in on Skullshatterer's sister.
'…So tired~'
But even so, Talulah couldn't help smiling.
She was still enjoying every moment of it.