I wondered how JunJun and Skullshatter were doing now... Since I had changed Reunion's course, Orson believed I had a responsibility to gather those original officers together again.
More importantly, Orson wanted to personally mess with JunJun and change the fact that he was currently Reunion's mascot, stuck at the bottom of the bullying hierarchy.
"The last thing is that underground question-mark area I told you about before. The maintenance crew still there told me it seems to have received several unauthorized remote access attempts recently."
"Remote access? Could it be Rhodes Island? No, we can't be sure yet—waaah... I can't do this anymore."
Isaac watched the boy think for a long time before his brain finally crashed. He slumped onto the table and gradually melted into a puddle.
Normally, this was the sort of work Alina and Talula handled. Most of the time, I was more like FrostNova: "Enemy there, enemy hit!" And that was that.
The current distribution of forces in Chernobog had exceeded Orson's CPU processing limit.
"A-Anyway... thanks for your help, Uncle Isaac. This is the advance payment the Rostov family gave me. Take it and deal with your living situation first."
Orson pushed an envelope toward Isaac, and the latter did not refuse it.
"I won't stand on ceremony with you. I'll take the money for now, since my old place has no water or electricity and isn't livable anymore. But I'm more curious about when we're going back."
"I'm not sure yet... The situation is too complicated right now. Uncle Isaac, aren't you planning to stay in Chernobog again?"
Orson asked curiously. In truth, he had already prepared himself for the possibility that this engineer uncle would completely disappear after arriving in Chernobog and go back to living his own life.
"How should I put it... I think I understand Reunion's goal now. I've lost both my home and my family. The only thing I can do is make sure fewer people end up as useless as me. After all, Infected people... were ordinary people to begin with."
Although Uncle Isaac understood what Reunion stood for, Orson could not feel particularly happy about it.
Everyone on this land carried their own despair. Orson did not know how many people Talula could truly change, but he would follow her unconditionally.
After meeting with Isaac, Orson sat in his chair, picking at the noodles on his plate as he spoke softly.
"You don't need to hide. I can feel it, you know. The killing intent is obvious."
"Ha. As expected of the fourth most annoying guy on the list."
At Orson's words, W rose from a booth and slowly approached him, wearing that unsettling smile as always.
Illustration available in the updated version
W sat across from Orson, only to discover that the man she had sworn to kill in the most painful way possible was now...
Looking at her with an unexpectedly delighted expression?
"Are you that happy to see me, shadow-controller?"
W decided not to let him disrupt her rhythm and asked Orson in a lazy yet provocative tone.
"Yeah. I thought I was already number one, but it turns out there are still three people ahead of me. That's much better than I imagined."
Orson said happily.
"Normal people wouldn't be happy about something like that... Besides, the guys in first and second place probably don't have substitutes anyway."
W said lazily as she picked up the menu.
After all, of the two people she hated most, one was the broader cause behind Theresia's death, while the other had directly brought about the assassination of Princess Theresia.
The instant she recalled the past, W's ever-present smile vanished briefly.
—Think of something happy. Smile again. For example... the fact that I might soon get to kill another person I hate most.
W looked at Orson, lightly resting her fingers on the detonator in her pocket as her smile returned.
Password Accepted
"Waiter, two Long Island Iced Teas~"
"Um, I don't drink alcohol..."
W naturally ordered two drinks from the waiter, while Orson awkwardly waved his hands, indicating that he could not handle alcohol.
The last time he had touched alcohol was at the celebration after Alina woke up. He remembered drinking half a glass, and the next time he opened his eyes, he was in a tent caught between ice and fire—meaning FrostNova and Talula were using him as a body pillow.
"You work a profession where you lick blood off a blade, yet you don't like numbing your nerves? Don't tell me you're still a little brat, just like you look?"
W's smile was packed with mockery, and Orson immediately could not stand it anymore.
"I'm twenty, at least! It's just a cocktail, watch me—Cough, cough, cough!"
Orson picked up the cocktail the waiter handed him and nearly choked himself to death after taking two huge gulps.
"..."
W blinked. This guy's alcohol tolerance really was pathetic.
"Cough, cough... Sorry, that was embarrassing. But it tastes pretty good. It drinks like a soft drink."
Orson awkwardly offered his review of the cocktail W had ordered, then stared at her seriously.
W kept her fingers wrapped around the detonator. If Orson made the same kind of "move" as last time, she would immediately trigger the traps around them to guard against his incomprehensible Originium Arts.
"First of all—I'm really sorry about last time!"
"...Huh?"
W, who had been concentrating because she expected Orson to use Curtain Call, froze. Rather than beginning with a "silence" gesture, he opened with a Planetary Devastation: palms pressed together, head lowered in apology.
"Is your hand all right now?"
"Ah, thanks to your concern, it healed not long after I got back. Want to shake it and see?"
W sarcastically extended her right hand toward Orson, but he completely failed to grasp the mockery and seriously took both hands she offered.
"Hmm... You really can't tell it was injured. Still, I feel pretty bad about it—whoa!"
W swiftly pulled her hands back and stared at Orson as though she had seen a ghost.
—What is wrong with this guy?
"Tell me... is there something wrong with your brain? Last time, and even now, I genuinely wanted to kill you, you know? Or is this some boring strategy of yours? Are you trying to confuse me by acting like an idiot?"
W looked at Orson and questioned exactly what was wrong with him.
In truth, Orson could not be blamed for this. Talula, Alina, and FrostNova were all extremely straightforward people. Talula and FrostNova in particular were simple-minded and direct. The only one who ever spoke sarcastically was the Black Snake, but the Black Snake had now developed "Orson PTSD" and would immediately shut down whenever he saw Orson.
In such an environment, Orson's ability to detect sarcasm was naturally woefully lacking. Forget fighting back—he could not even recognize W's sarcasm.
"I understand. It's mercenary work, after all. But outside of work, during private time, I still hope I can get along well with Miss W."
Orson said as he cautiously took another sip of his Long Island Iced Tea, then suddenly realized something and looked nervous.
"Don't tell me this is work time right now, and I'm your target?"
"...Not exactly. In a sense, this really is private time."
W sighed, released the detonator in her hand, and placed her left hand on the table as well.
"Then what did Miss W come here for this time? Don't tell me we just happened to run into each other here by coincidence?"
"Ha, there aren't that many coincidences in this world. But thanks to a certain someone, I really can't be bothered to fight you to the death here anymore. Right now, I simply want us to get more acquainted out of the goodness of my heart, all right?"
Although her words were full of lies, that part was true. After all that trouble, W could no longer be bothered to probe Orson's Originium Arts.
For W, her goal this time had never been to fight Orson to the death. The bombs she had planted beforehand were more like precautions—or perhaps... a cruel little joke.
"Hmm, I actually wanted to find a chance to have a proper talk with Miss W too. Since we've reached an understanding, Miss W, please take the bombs around us out of standby mode as well."
Orson had sensed the traps W had planted in advance, as well as the detonator in her pocket, from the very beginning. Even so, he had not immediately fought her. Orson was afraid of involving the people nearby, and in the end, his "nonresistance" really had prevented a battle.
"I'm not a homicidal maniac. Those are just flashbangs. You, on the other hand, are still really annoying."
W tossed the detonator onto the table, then raised her cocktail to her lips. As she enjoyed the weak alcoholic stimulation that could not even compare to ambrosia, she analyzed the boy's exact capabilities.
—His observation ability is powerful, absurdly so. But in contrast, his ability to erase traces and counter tracking is only average. Is that related to the nature of his previous work?
At the same time, Orson held up his Long Island Iced Tea and observed W, considering how exactly he should speak with this mercenary next.
Orson had no intention of using "Theresia" as a magic password on W. That name might be the correct password for members of Rhodes Island, but coming from an outsider like him, it would probably only provoke her.
At the end of the day, W's ideals did not truly overlap with Reunion's current ones. Reunion aimed to unite the Infected and ordinary people, eliminate barriers, drive out injustice, and thereby secure better living conditions.
As for W, she probably only wanted the Sarkaz to have the right to choose death.
She was supposedly Theresia's number-one fan, but what exactly was she promoting?
But then again, if he made use of W's goal, perhaps it was not impossible to drag her into Reunion...?
"Anyway, what exactly is your purpose this time, Miss W?"
Orson asked W, shaking his head in confusion.
"Very simple. Garson, the leader of the Sarkaz mercenary group hired by Duke Baikal, may personally come looking for trouble with you soon. Remember to give him a proper welcome~"
"The mercenary leader...? Why are you telling me this?"
"For one thing, remember what I said earlier? You're fourth, and that guy is third. Telling you this might let me get rid of two annoying people at once. And for another—"
W's smile became manic and feral.
"I've never suffered such humiliation before. You can't die at that guy's hands. I'll personally blow your limbs apart with bombs, then use a dagger... Hey?"
"Got it... Zzz... Hic. Zzz... Hic."
In the middle of W's manic speech, she suddenly noticed that Orson, who had seemed odd just moments ago, now had a completely flushed face. He bobbed his head like a pecking chick while hiccuping, and a quarter of the cocktail in front of him was gone.
"Your alcohol tolerance is ridiculously bad!!"
"S-Sorry... Uh, I'll pull myself together—Thud!"
Orson's head slammed into the table. The impact barely woke him up a little, but he soon fell asleep again.
"..."
—This is the guy I spent two hours setting traps for, the guy I decided to have a proper fight with? I feel like I'm the idiot...
W poked Orson's cheek. He wriggled slightly, then stopped responding again.
W poked him once more, and like a timekeeping bird, he made another strange "Hmm, gurgle..." sound.
"Ha ha, what an interesting guy. In that case..."
A dangerous gleam flashed in W's eyes. She walked over to the restaurant bar, took a glass, and then... filled it with ice cubes.
"Here I go."
"Wuh wuh wuh, aah aah aah!?"
Orson sprang up after ice cubes were suddenly stuffed into his clothes.
"Awake now?"
W asked Orson with a smile, while he nodded as he shook the ice cubes out of his clothes.
"Listen. I really did want to have a proper fight with you at first, but that no longer matters. What I'm more curious about is why you rarely kill those Sarkaz mercenaries, only depriving them of their ability to act?"
W put away her smile and questioned Orson. Of the mercenaries sent to assassinate Lumen, more than half had been found intact and without lasting injuries. Although a small number of them had their limbs severed by an unknown weapon.
"Hmm... First, I may hold grudges, but I don't like killing people. Second, it depends on the person. Many mercenaries are only trying to earn a living. Since I can protect Lumen without killing them, then of course that's what I'd do."
Orson rubbed his eyes and answered somewhat groggily.
"Oh? You think those Sarkaz also have the right to live?"
Orson's answer made W raise an eyebrow.
"Everyone has the right to live—except for some truly awful scum. But Sarkaz, Infected, whoever they are, everyone has the right to live."
Orson plainly voiced what was in his heart, and W fell silent for a while.
W without her smile made Orson pause.
Illustration available in the updated version
"—As expected, you're someone worth killing with my own hands. But not today, Orson."
But only for an instant. After the brief silence, W smiled again, rose to her feet, and prepared to leave the restaurant.
"Consider it a buy-one-get-one bonus—among the guards around you, there are people working for Baikal."
"Baikal...? Wait, Miss W—"
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