Phaga managed to make it home before dusk. Rina stood beside him with her arms crossed, looking slightly resentful as she watched him busy himself in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Corin tugged her toward the dining table and made her sit down.
Rina put her hands on her hips and smiled faintly at Corin. "Corin, how could you let Phaga work alone in the kitchen? I should be helping him."
Though she was smiling, anyone could hear the trace of grievance in her tone.
She looked at Corin pitifully. If Corin hadn't spent the whole way home insisting, "Mr. Phaga's been cooking us breakfast for days—I want to buy him a gift before we go back," she wouldn't have dragged Rina around the mall for so long. If the sun hadn't sunk low and turned the sky red, Corin would've kept shopping even longer.
"Mmm!"
But Corin only shook her head firmly, stubbornly pulling Rina down into a chair. "Miss Rina, you've worked hard too," she said timidly. "Let Corin handle it."
Before Rina could argue, Corin darted into the kitchen for refuge. The dining room was left empty except for Rina and Ellen.
Ellen didn't feel like talking. She was sprawled over the table, playing with her phone. The white glow of the screen reflected in her eyes.
"Tour de Inferno?" she murmured, skimming through a netizen's post introducing the event.
Apparently, it was a race unique to the Outer Ring. The region suffered from energy shortages, and decades ago even its largest fire lake was on the verge of being buried under growing Ether crystals. When it became completely covered, it would mark the day their energy was truly depleted.
According to legend, a hero rose at that critical moment. He charged into a Hollow swarming with Ethereal remains, cutting his way through until he reached the depths. At the edge of the lake, he leapt into the abyss with a sparkstone in hand.
Moments later, a pillar of fire erupted skyward—the hero reborn from the flames.
To honor the legend, the Outer Ring kept this tradition alive. On the day of the race, each faction would carry a sparkstone to the edge of the Hollow, racing along the hero's fabled path toward the Cinder Lake. Whoever reached the finish line first would become the next leader of the Outer Ring.
Of course, no one needed to actually jump into the lake—throwing the sparkstone in was enough.
After a while, Ellen set her phone down with a sigh. "So the Outer Ring actually has a peaceful way to hand over power? I thought they'd just fight for it."
"Boring..."
No sooner had she muttered that than a shadow fell across her. She turned around to find Rina standing there, smiling gently.
Rina ruffled Ellen's hair and sat down, meeting the girl's puzzled gaze. "Order is always better than chaos," she said softly. "Keeping battles small prevents greater losses."
"It's just a glorified motorcycle trip," Ellen muttered, unwilling to back down. "Hardly anyone gets hurt. Even if someone wins, how does that give them the authority to rule the Outer Ring?"
Ellen had always been straightforward, her thinking shaped by her work with Victoria Housekeeping—where action spoke louder than words.
Rina only shook her head. Her experience far outstripped Ellen's, and she could clearly see the deeper meaning behind the Tour de Inferno.
According to official data, the ride's endpoint, [Cinder Lake], was the Outer Ring's very lifeblood. In essence, whoever controlled [Cinder Lake] controlled the Outer Ring.
But [Cinder Lake] lay deep within the Hollow. Anyone too weak to fight the Ethereal was as good as buried. Half the contenders wouldn't even make it halfway. Only the strongest of the strong could reach the end.
And since the Tour de Inferno tested speed, the winner would always be someone fast, daring, and fearless enough to race full throttle through danger. After all, a motorcycle wasn't a four-wheeled tank—no matter how fast the rider, they still had to swerve around obstacles.
By the end, the victor of the Tour de Inferno would, without question, be the Outer Ring's most capable leader.
Of course, Rina didn't say any of that aloud. She simply gazed at Ellen with tender eyes, gently stroking her short hair. Ellen didn't need to worry about such heavy matters. She just needed to live happily.
"What are you doing? Rina, you're acting weird."
Ellen squirmed away from Rina's hand, pouting as she went back to scrolling through her phone.
Rina smiled faintly, touching her lips with a finger as her eyes lifted in thought. "Speaking of which," she murmured, "I think I found something about the car that almost hit you two."
"Hm?" Ellen looked up from her phone.
Just then, footsteps sounded behind them. Phaga and Corin approached, each carrying a plate.
Phaga set the dishes down and took a seat. "You found something?" he asked eagerly.
"Mm. A little."
Rina smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "In cases like this, the mastermind usually watches from somewhere they can see the whole thing unfold—to confirm the target's death. If not personally, they send someone to do it instead."
"So we just need to check which spots near the scene could serve as a vantage point."
She slid two slightly blurry photos across the table. Both showed figures from behind—one with blond hair, the other a gray-haired Thiren.
Phaga studied the pictures for a while before looking up, puzzled by how unclear they were.
Rina sighed helplessly. "That inn's a shady place. No ID required to check in. I had to 'chat nicely' with the owner for quite some time before he told me what the tenants looked like."
"But those two were careful. They avoided the cameras. I had to comb through shops across several streets to catch even one brief moment when they let their guard down. Such a hassle!"
She folded her arms with mock indignation. "And yet, Phaga doesn't even let me cook. All that effort—wasted!"
"Uh... heh heh..."
Phaga gave a strained laugh, rubbing his temples as he turned away, pretending not to hear her. "Ah, suddenly I'm starving. Corin, you hungry? Let's eat first, shall we?"
"Pha~ga~"
Rina eyed him reproachfully, her teeth gently biting her lower lip.
Phaga pretended not to notice, ladling rice into bowls and handing them out. "Eat, eat. No talking while eating, no chatting while sleeping—that's the mark of a gentleman. Ellen, put down your phone. Time to eat."
Ellen pouted, slapped her phone down on the table, and tore into her meal with ferocious determination—driven purely by spite not to leave Phaga a single bite.
Phaga remained utterly calm, eating at his usual slow pace. After finishing his bowl, he excused himself, returned to his room, scrolled through his phone for a bit, and went to bed early.
...
The next day, a weekend morning, Phaga and Ellen had promised to accompany Ruby to her qualification exam.
A pickup truck barreled down the road toward Scott Outpost.
In the back seat, Ruby looked around curiously, taking out her phone to snap photos.
Blinded by the flash, Ellen pulled the car over and shot her a glare so sharp it made Ruby's scalp tingle.
"Um... well..."
Caught red-handed, Ruby awkwardly scratched her face, cheeks burning. After struggling to think of an excuse, she gave up and blurted, "Ellen, you look amazing in that maid outfit... and Phaga, that butler suit is really handsome!"
"Thank you for the compliment."
Phaga adjusted his monocle with a faint chuckle, then stepped out of the truck. Walking to the back, he opened the rear door and bent slightly.
"Please step out, Probationary Investigator," he said politely.
"Mm!"
Ruby had never experienced anything like it. Her eyes sparkled as she jumped down from the truck. When she saw Ellen walking over with her massive scissors, she didn't flinch—instead, she ran up and grabbed her by the arm.
"Alright, everyone ready?"
Ruby was practically bouncing with excitement. Standing on tiptoe, she hooked one arm around Phaga's shoulder and wrapped the other, holding her phone, around Ellen's neck. Leaning against the truck, she grinned.
"Hey, hey, Phaga, Ellen—smile a little! It's not every day we get to go out together. Say cheese!"
Phaga and Ellen exchanged a helpless glance before smiling faintly and humoring her.
Before Ruby could take a second picture, however, a uniformed woman strode up briskly. She saluted, then barked sharply, "Comrades, photography is prohibited at Scott Outpost!"
"If you're civilian volunteers here to participate in the Hollow Zero investigation mission, you're absolutely welcome."
"But if you're just here to sightsee—please leave. This area is dangerous."