Talula pinched the tip of Orson's nose.
"Eh, eeh? T-Talula?"
Realizing that the Talula before him was not an illusion, Orson tried to get up from the bed in a daze, only for Talula to press him back down.
"Um... what's going on, Sis Talula?"
Orson still could not quite make sense of the situation.
"What do you mean, Orson?"
Talula gently stroked Orson's bangs, her tone calm and tender.
"Everything—why are you here, Sis Talula? What happened to me? How much time has passed? Where is this...?"
"Calm down, Orson. You've always been wound too tight."
"—"
Talula cupped Orson's cheeks with both hands and gently pressed her forehead against his.
"Have you calmed down?"
After a little while, Talula let go and lifted her head, asking Orson with a little residual warmth on her cheeks.
"...Y-yeah."
Orson answered vaguely. He could hardly say that he was even more flustered now, albeit in an entirely different sense.
"Anyway, after receiving your message, Alina and I arrived in Chernobyl. Taking the old nobles' informants into account, I came directly to the Rostov family. With the Head of the Rostov Family's help, my identity and information have not been exposed yet."
"Alina too?"
"Mm. It's just that she has other things to do... Don't look at me like that. I tried to persuade her, but..."
"Alina ended up persuading you instead?"
Seeing Talula's expression, Orson more or less guessed what had happened.
"Mm... Alina said she couldn't keep hiding under someone else's protection. She chose to follow me, not to become someone who needed protecting."
Talula sighed. Though she had a way of inspiring others, Alina alone always had her completely beaten.
"Well, it's Alina..." Orson understood.
"As for you, Orson, you collapsed from extreme mental exhaustion and were unconscious for around ten hours. Someone calling himself Azazel brought you back to the Rostov family. This is the infirmary."
"Azazel... Uh, sorry, Sis Talula. I couldn't persuade old man Hegre, and I—"
"Orson!"
"Eek!?"
Talula suddenly called Orson's name sternly, startling him.
"Promise me that you won't force yourself like that again—not that I know you definitely won't... Then at least, make sure you rest properly once in a while, okay?"
"...Mm. I understand."
Talula stared intently into Orson's eyes, forcing him to become serious as well as he earnestly answered her.
"I understand that you've been pushing your body beyond its limits to make my dream come true—but that isn't what I want, Orson. No matter what obstacles we face, we'll overcome them together. So don't force yourself anymore."
"Sis Talula..."
Orson looked at Talula, feeling both guilty and moved.
"Good. Then tell me about this engagement, confession, and going to school together."
Having received the answer she wanted, Talula smiled and leaned toward Orson.
The air instantly became unbearably tense—this was a statement, not a question.
"Ah... ahaha, um—well... there were all sorts of reasons... Anyway, on my end—"
"Orson! Are you awake?"
Before Orson could explain, Lumen, one of the people involved, appeared at the infirmary door.
"—" "—"
Since the Head of the Rostov Family had kept Talula hidden until now, this was Lumen and Talula's first meeting.
"You must be Miss Natalia, correct? I'm Talula, leader of the Reunion Movement, and also Orson's—elder sister."
Talula froze for a moment upon seeing Lumen, but quickly recognized the young noblewoman. She stood and greeted her with a smile.
"Eh?" Orson blinked. How had a few days away somehow unlocked a new title for Talula?
"Elder sister—"
Both Orson and Lumen blinked at that self-introduction, but Lumen quickly composed herself and responded with a smile of her own.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I am indeed Natalia, heir to the Rostov family. I am also—the one Orson promised to protect."
"Eh?"
Orson once again made the sound of someone who had no idea what was going on. Wasn't he just a security guard? How had his title suddenly become so impressive?
"I see. You have not come of age yet, so perhaps you do not understand the weight of the word 'promise.' You should refrain from using such words casually with others—especially when it comes to matters such as marriage engagements."
Though Talula still wore a smile, her entire bearing was as grave as if she were about to go to war.
"Marriage—cough, cough. Please don't trouble yourself. I understand perfectly well the burdens carried by those words. I do not require instruction from an auntie like you."
"A-auntie...? You've got some nerve."
Talula, who was indeed the oldest person present, took two steps back at that form of address. But after shaking her head, she charged right back in and began round two with Lumen, meeting her gaze head-on.
"My, my. Is this youth?"
Lumen's Father, the culprit behind all of this, leaned against the infirmary doorway and sighed at the sight.
After the farce surrounding Orson's awakening and Talula's meeting with Lumen ended, everyone sat around the conference table and began discussing their next move.
"I have already released the only trump card I had—the Duke Baikal's accounts, along with evidence of several political assassinations. Those revelations can probably stall him for another three or four days, but after that, his retaliation will absolutely be devastating."
A few days ago, the Head of the Rostov Family had released some damning evidence concerning Duke Baikal. While this meant he did not have to worry about the army group entering the city for the moment, once Baikal finished suppressing the news, he would one hundred percent lose all patience.
"So the deciding move has to be made within the next few days."
Talula lowered her head in thought, while Orson, bearing bear-claw marks and scorch marks across his body, raised his hand with a question.
"Lord Andrei, can you use your authority to allow the residents of the Northern Territory to migrate here without obstruction? There may not be many of them, but they would still be a considerable force. As for the infected within Chernobyl itself... honestly, I don't want to mobilize that general again."
"General Hegre... Even I was surprised to hear his name here. But if he no longer has the will to fight, then we should not count him as combat strength."
Talula said with a frown, then looked toward the Head of the Rostov Family.
"The Reunion Movement can offer you assistance, Marquis Rostov, but only if you swear upon your bloodline and family—that you will provide protection and aid to those in the Northern Territory, whether ordinary people or the infected."
"I swear it. In fact, I have already found a way to deal with the infected and the civilians of the Northern Territory afterward—if we survive, you will see it then."
Lumen's Father solemnly rose and walked before Talula. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head to swear his oath.
An adult kneeling before a young girl was an odd sight, yet no one present, including Lumen, found it strange.
This Sankta with "unrealistic dreams" now possessed the power to make others glimpse the aura of leadership within her.
"Then the Reunion Movement officially joins the Rostov family's side—oh, and one more thing."
Talula nodded to the Head of the Rostov Family, then remembered something else.
"Cancel that ridiculous engagement!"
Talula, who had looked every bit the leader just moments ago, instantly broke character and made this additional demand with some embarrassment but unwavering determination.
As for Lumen, although she also agreed that the engagement her useless father had randomly imposed should be canceled, hearing those words still stirred an inexplicable feeling within her.
After the meeting ended, Orson and Talula left the conference room ahead of the others, while Lumen silently gazed out at the sky beyond the window.
The family has already openly turned against Duke Baikal, so why am I... thinking about such strange things at a time like this?
After wrestling with herself for a while, Lumen fiercely shook her head, stood up, and headed toward Orson's room.
"Orson? There's something I wanted to—eh?"
Lumen had intended to knock, but the door pushed open on its own because it had not been locked. Behind it, her eyes widened at the scene before her:
The leader of the Reunion Movement named Talula lay on the bed with her eyes half-closed, while Orson lay beside her, breathing softly as well.
"Y-you idiot Orson! That's way too improper!"
Lumen ran out the door with a flushed face.
"Mm... huh?"
After Lumen left, Orson groggily climbed out of bed and stared at the open door before him in confusion.
"I didn't close the door...? Mm, anyway, Sis Talula, how did it go?"
Orson looked toward Talula, who had also awakened. She climbed out of bed, smoothing down her hair as she nodded to indicate that there was no problem.
Meanwhile, within the consciousness realm of the "Undying Black Snake."
Koschei sat alone upon his throne, idly turning a chess queen piece in his hand.
"An unexpected proposal, Talula. Have you truly changed so much, simply because of—that underdeveloped, brainless, single-celled creature wearing human skin, whose every word is meaningless nonsense and whose every action lacks even a trace of logic?"
Growing angrier the more he thought about it, Koschei tossed the queen piece aside and calmed himself by checking prime numbers.
"Then let me see, my daughter. If you insist on continuing down this self-destructive path, unrecognized by all and as distant as Icarus—then at least let me witness the moment you and your dream fall completely from the sky."
Koschei rose from the throne and walked to the table where Talula had been sitting, only to suddenly notice an envelope left there.
Though every time we meet, I want to smash that face of yours to pieces, you and Sis Talula will probably be tied together for a long time. Since that's the case, try to get along. There's a gift for you in this envelope. Perhaps it can let you experience those sealed emotions of being a "father."
"Even fools occasionally do things like this."
Koschei raised a brow and opened the envelope Orson had left within his consciousness. From it, he took out a manifestation of an item Orson had extracted in his mental realm—a strange medium called a "disc."
It read: Volkswagen Golf 2.
"...?"
Koschei held the disc. Though he did not quite understand it, he had a feeling that little bastard Orson had somehow insulted him to his face again.
Picking Up a Cockroach While Out for a Walk
Within a remote residential district somewhere in Chernobyl, a Sarkaz mercenary—a cockroach-haired girl codenamed W—sat atop a table piled with weapons and explosives, silently looking at a visibly worn photograph that appeared to be a selfie.
If Orson had been there, he would have been terrified by the sight. W, who was almost always wearing a wicked smile, was now silent and expressionless.
After carefully putting away the slightly faded photograph, W fitted fuses onto explosives while reading the day's mission briefing.
Duke Baikal had recently been troubled by suddenly exposed scandals, leaving the army group stationed inside Chernobyl with no energy to redeploy. In exchange, Duke Baikal had assigned several missions to the Sarkaz mercenaries. It seemed he had finally decided to wipe out the Rostov family completely.
Mercenary captain Garson would be responsible for the decapitation strike against the Head of the Rostov Family, while W's squad had been tasked with seizing control of Chernobyl's port.
W herself had received an infiltration and sabotage mission involving only four people.
It was a very ordinary operation to cut off the flow of information, but W felt that something was not quite right.
"W, the operation begins in twenty-five minutes."
The safehouse door opened, and a Sarkaz entered the room. At the same time, W's lips curved into her usual composed smile, as though she were plotting some underhanded trick.
"Got it. By the way, how does it feel to wreak havoc in an unfamiliar city?"
W asked the mercenary with a smile.
"Nothing. We are merely carrying out our mission."
"...Hah. Right. I should have known that would be your answer."
The other mercenary's cold, mechanical response made W show an impatient expression.
"W, you are too idealistic. I know you want Sarkaz to die not as expendable resources in war, but as 'people with names.' But the entire world sees us as synonymous with war and Oripathy. How do you intend to change that?"
The mercenary's words made W's pupils widen.
"Idealistic? Hahaha! So there will come a day when I'm called that too. That's just too interesting."
Before you continue