Faldeus stood before the massive screen, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at the images on the display.
The footage consisted of visuals from various directions.
Inside the Central Control Room, only the hum of running machinery remained.
Several staff members sat at their terminals, fingers flying across keyboards as data streams scrolled across their screens.
"Just what on earth is she trying to do?"
Faldeus spoke in a low voice, as if asking himself, or perhaps the person on the screen.
Street speeches. Claiming to be the President of the Earth. Being mocked by passersby like a gag artist.
This string of actions lacked all logic and purpose, almost like...
"Like she's playing around."
A voice suddenly came through his earpiece.
A light, laughing female voice, sickeningly sweet.
Faldeus paused.
"Francesca."
"You saw everything."
"Of course~ How could I possibly miss such a splendid live broadcast?"
Francesca's voice came through the earpiece. In the background, there was the rustling of fabric, as if she were rolling around on a bed.
"My, my, I really didn't expect this to be so interesting! President of the Earth? Hahaha! How did she come up with that? I have to write that title down!"
Faldeus, who was still maintaining communication with her, removed the earpiece and silently held it a distance away, raising a hand to rub the bridge of his nose.
Suppressing his irritation, he questioned Francesca:
"So, have you confirmed what that thing actually is?"
"Mmm~ Let me think~"
Francesca slowly stopped laughing. With a lingering quiver in her unsteady breath, she replied to Faldeus:
"It's a Servant!"
"Are you certain?"
"I wouldn't mistake it. That Saint Graph reaction is definitely a Servant! This is getting quite interesting~"
Faldeus's eyes darkened. Francesca was still prattling on in his ear, but he didn't hear a word of it.
As expected, it was a Servant?
Then who exactly summoned her?
And her Master is just letting her act like this?
Faldeus felt as though something was gradually slipping out of his control.
The situation, which had been clear moments ago, had instantly become a blurred mess.
He walked out of the Central Control Room, stood in the outer hallway, and lit a cigarette, unable to help the ache in his stomach.
...
Snowfield Police Department, Chief's Office.
Orlando sat behind his desk, hands folded on the surface, staring at the surveillance footage before him.
The footage was captured from an old camera at a skewed angle, but it was enough to see the situation in the Park.
The silver-haired woman stood with hands on her hips, laughing toward the sky; passersby formed a circle, holding up phones to take pictures; she grew local with rage and raised her hand as if to do something, but nothing happened; finally, she fled in a panic amidst the applause and laughter of the crowd.
The image froze on the back of her figure as she rushed into the bushes.
Orlando stared at that retreating figure.
"So."
"This is the person who survived being caught in the pincer attack of Gilgamesh and Enkidu's Noble Phantasms?"
The blonde female assistant standing behind him nodded expressionlessly.
"Yes, Director. Confirmed to be the same target."
Orlando watched the surveillance replay once more.
"Are you sure..."
"She's really a Servant? Not some... gag artist? Or a mental patient?"
"Magical Energy reactions don't lie, Director."
The assistant's voice was devoid of emotion.
"Based on the Magical Energy reaction present on the target, the probability of her being a Servant is over 99.9%."
"However, the situation regarding her Master is currently unknown and still under investigation."
Orlando leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling for three seconds before letting out a long sigh.
"So, an amnesiac Servant is currently wandering aimlessly around Snowfield City."
"Yes."
"And the government has already locked onto her."
"From the surveillance, at least three observation teams are tracking her."
Orlando raised a hand to press his temples.
"Director."
"Should we act? The target is currently in a weakened state; it is the optimal time to control her."
Orlando didn't answer immediately.
He stared at the screen, at that frozen profile.
"Have them move out together."
"Yes."
Just as the blonde assistant was about to relay the order, he called her back.
"No, wait and see."
"Let the government make the first move."
Orlando stood up and walked to the window.
Outside was the street view of Snowfield City—heavy traffic and hurried pedestrians.
"I don't trust the people on the government's side, and Faldeus should be more anxious than I am. Besides..."
"Regardless of her current state, she has the track record of walking away from a direct hit by two high-tier Noble Phantasms. It's better to be cautious."
The assistant gave a soft acknowledgment and stood back behind him, watching the city wake up in the morning light just as he was.
Like the dice of fate—once thrown, they tumble through the air, yet to hit the ground.
...
After realizing she was completely unable to deal with those passersby, Olga Marie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
She looked up at the crowd for a moment. Her expression remained unchanged—still that arrogant look—as she let out a short syllable from her throat.
"Hmph."
Then she turned and bolted.
"Eh? She's leaving?"
"Don't go! Do another bit!"
"Did you get it? Did you get it?"
"Got it, got it! Hahaha!"
Olga Marie didn't look back, leaving the laughter behind her.
She rushed into the bushes, which ended at a wall.
Olga Marie didn't stop. When she was three steps from the wall, she kicked off the ground—
Her body leaped up, and with one hand braced against the top of the wall, she flipped over.
Behind the wall was an alley. It was very narrow—cramped even for two people side-by-side.
On either side were the back walls of buildings with exposed brick and withered vines crawling over them.
There was a musty smell in the air, mixed with the sour rot of garbage.
After confirming no one had followed her, Olga Marie slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position.
Her Cape was stained with dirty water, but she didn't care.
She buried her face in her knees, her silver hair sliding off her shoulders to hide her profile.
She sat like that for about a minute.
"Ha..."
A short laugh squeezed from the depths of her throat.
The laughter grew louder and sharper, turning into a nearly hysterical cackle.
"These... these ants who don't know the heights of the heavens!"
She slammed a fist against the wall.
With a muffled thud, dust shook loose from the bricks.
Olga Marie looked at the slight redness on the back of her hand, feeling incensed by her current weakness. Then she covered her face and let out a suppressed wail.
"Uuu..."
"How dare they treat me like that... how dare they..."
"I am the President of the Earth! A Goddess! A higher existence come to save you stupid humans!"
"If you won't kneel, fine, but you actually dared to laugh at me!"
"Unforgivable... absolutely unforgivable...!"
She raised a hand and wiped the corner of her eye. Her fingertips were wet; it was unclear if it was tears or something else.
"Wait until I recover my power... once I recover my power, I'll definitely round you all up! Lock you in cages! Make you perform every day! No food if you don't perform!"
"I'll make you write ten-thousand-word self-reflections! No, a hundred thousand! You won't be allowed to sleep until you're finished!"
She muttered curses incessantly. Toward the end, her voice even carried a hint of a sob.
It wasn't that she truly wanted to cry; she just felt... wronged.
Why? After finally descending, she was treated as a gag artist.
Was this logical? It was completely illogical!
The next moment, she ceased all complaints and emotional release.
Because the sound of footsteps came from the mouth of the alley.
The sound of feet hitting stone slabs echoed in the empty alley, excessively clear.
Olga Marie turned her head.
The morning light slanted in from the alley entrance, casting a long shadow behind the person.
The newcomer was a youth.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and features as delicate as a Puppet.
He wore an outfit very much in the style of last century's British aristocracy—a white shirt, a dark Shell vest, and a bow tie at his collar.
He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old, with a smile on his face that was clean, bright, and infectious. Olga Marie, however, only felt a wave of revulsion.
Upon seeing her face, the youth's eyes lit up.
They truly "lit up," like lightbulbs suddenly being turned on.
He quickened his pace, nearly running over, then crouched in front of Olga Marie and grabbed her hand.
The movement was natural, as if they had known each other for a long time and were very familiar.
"Is it Olga Marie?"
The youth's voice carried an irrepressible excitement.
"Why are you here? Are you here to participate in the Holy Grail War too?"
Olga Marie: "...Huh?"
She froze for a moment, not processing what had just happened.
Her gaze shifted downward, falling onto the youth's left wrist.
There was a watch there. The hand on the watch face was in the shape of a dagger.
At this moment, that dagger hand was vibrating slightly—the amplitude was small, but it was definitely vibrating.
Olga Marie narrowed her eyes.
"Who are you?"
She pulled her hand back, her tone cold.
As she spoke, she looked at the watch on the youth's left wrist:
"And you—are you a Servant?"
The dagger hand in the watch vibrated even more violently.
The youth's expression remained unchanged, his smile brilliant:
"I am Flat! Flat Escardos!"
His tone took on a bit of a hurt, wounded quality:
"Even though we just met not too long ago, you've forgotten me so quickly?!"
Olga Marie stared at him for several seconds before curling her lip, her tone flat:
"So, is that the reason you've laid no fewer than ten trigger-type trap Magecrafts in my shadow?"
Flat let out an "ah," scratched his head, and his smile became a bit sheepish:
"I've been caught, then."