A standard Lord's Council was essentially just twelve overpaid aristocrats sitting in a room, screaming at each other over budget cuts and turf wars.
A Grand Resolution, however, was a completely different beast.
It was the highest-priority summit in the entire magus world. Initiated by the Mage's Association and requiring the consensus of multiple global factions, it was a specialized tribunal convened only for world-ending crises.
The unwritten rules of a Grand Resolution were absolute.
The agenda took precedence over everything. Personal grudges, factional blood feuds, political assassinations, all of it was temporarily suspended.
Theoretically, even a magus slapped with a lethal Sealing Designation could walk through the front doors of the summit without catching a bullet, provided they had an invitation and a damn good reason to be there.
Breaking this amnesty meant making an enemy of the entire magical world.
But even within a Grand Resolution, the Clock Tower was the undisputed heavyweight. And within the Clock Tower, the Twelve Lords held the steering wheel.
If the Twelve Families presented a united front, the Grand Resolution was basically a rubber-stamp formality. They were the UN Security Council of the magus world; they held absolute veto power.
Because of that, Rimuru wasn't particularly worried.
"They're probably convening to figure out what the hell to do about Cornwall. Maybe looking to draft a joint task force with the Holy Church," Rimuru mused, his golden eyes half-closed.
In his arms, the little silver-haired gremlin had stopped squirming. Erol was now perfectly still, her big, bright eyes blinking owlishly as she blatantly eavesdropped on the top-secret political briefing.
"You say that like it's a minor inconvenience!"
Riddell looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel. Her tone was vicious, but it couldn't hide the raw, suffocating panic beneath. "You were too flashy, Rimuru! You have shapeshifting! Why on earth would you use your original silhouette to do something like that?!"
"Oh. Did someone connect the dots to me already?" Rimuru blinked, genuinely surprised before a light chuckle escaped him. "I thought I'd have a bit more time... So, am I getting an invitation to the tribunal?"
"No." Riddell shook her head sharply. "The Dean warned me because right now, they don't have hard evidence. The resolution's primary agenda is just an investigation. They're only going to summon you for an interrogation if they find actual proof... Rimuru... what are you..."
"It's fine, Riddell. Relax."
Rimuru shook his head gently. He leaned forward and smoothly transferred the thoroughly confused Erol into Riddell's arms. "You know I never make a move without a safety net."
He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
"Actually, when you kicked the door down, I thought you were going to scream at me for defecting to the Black Princess. The people who saw me leave the Clock Tower that day... they all had their memories wiped, didn't they? You cleaned up my mess."
Riddell stiffened. "Wh-why would you ask that?"
She didn't give him a straight answer, but she didn't need to. Her eyes gave it away instantly.
A sudden, profound sense of warmth washed over Rimuru. The lingering, alienating feeling of being a transmigrator in a strange world faded just a little bit more. He wasn't entirely alone here. He had people who worried about him. He had family.
"You don't need to be so stressed out over me. Out of everyone in our circle, you're the worst at hiding your feelings and the one who overthinks things the least. You've been like that since we were kids," Rimuru said softly.
He reached out and took Riddell's arm. Gently, carefully, he rolled up the sleeve of her immaculate blouse.
Her pale forearm was marred by fresh bite marks and jagged, healing scars.
During his half-month of fleeing across Europe, the Vampiric Impulse had demanded blood every forty-eight hours to keep the rot at bay. Rimuru couldn't even count how many times he had been forced to hurt her.
"Joining Altrouge... yes, it was the most efficient way to maximize my political leverage with minimal cost," Rimuru murmured, his thumb lightly tracing the edge of a fading scar.
He ignored the violent, boiling flush spreading across Riddell's cheeks. He looked up, meeting her eyes directly.
"But the most important reason... was because I didn't want to hurt you anymore, Riddell."
"Even if she could only suppress the curse a day earlier than I could... it was worth the compromise. It was a price I was willing to pay."
Rimuru raised a hand, pressing a single finger gently against Riddell's trembling lips. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then leaned in, intending to press a soft, chaste kiss against the back of his own finger.
He didn't like making his feelings explicit, but he wasn't blind. He knew exactly how Riddell and Alice felt about him.
He just felt like a piece of driftwood. A transient existence. He couldn't promise them a lifetime of safety and happiness. Maybe some would call it overly dramatic, but Rimuru had his own strict moral code.
In his past life, he had played the field, sure. People called him a playboy. But if a girl was giving him her entire, earnest heart, and he knew his ultimate goal was to leave this universe?
Stringing her along wasn't being a playboy. It was being human trash.
He cherished these girls. He didn't know if his feelings for Riddell and Alice were romantic, platonic, or familial, but because he cherished them, he refused to break them.
"Ri... Rim... uru..."
Riddell's heart was hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might shatter. Her breath hitched.
She watched his face draw closer, a bead of nervous sweat rolling down her neck.
Smack!
A tiny, pale hand suddenly shot up, slapping flat against Riddell's cheek.
A small, silver-haired head popped up right between them.
Smooch.
Rimuru's kiss landed squarely on Erol's chubby little cheek.
Riddell: "???"
"Yay!" Erol cheered.
Before either adult could react, the little gremlin spun around and planted a loud, wet kiss on both Rimuru's and Riddell's dumbfounded faces.
Then, she wriggled out of Riddell's arms, hit the floor with a thump, and scampered behind the heavy mahogany desk.
She popped her head over the wood, her bright blue eyes sparkling with absolute glee.
"It happened! It's exactly like the scenario Big Sis Aoko told me about! Ooh, wait, what was the line...? How did it go...?"
Erol clapped her hands together, remembering. She pointed a tiny, accusatory finger right at Rimuru.
"What a massive scumbag!!"
"..."
The silence in the lounge was deafening.
Rimuru's face turned the color of a thundercloud. The veins on his forehead pulsed.
"AOZAKI. AOKO!!"
Without a second thought, Rimuru lunged over the desk and hoisted Erol into the air by the back of her collar. He glared at the little girl, who was currently kicking her short legs in the air, completely unrepentant.
"I am banning you from ever speaking to that woman again!" Rimuru snarled, his teeth grinding together.
Corrupting my apprentice into blowing up a hunting ground wasn't enough for her?! What kind of degenerate garbage is she teaching a five-year-old?!!!
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