Mission Waiter, Part Two

Foreword:

If there were footprints leading out, perhaps I would try to follow them.

[Part ①·Voice]

"This kid can't hear what we're saying, and he can't speak either."

Fret said so--

"--Since that's the case, Wood, my benevolent and kind Father, I will use this kid's vital essence to create a crawling monster and have it search for your tracks."

The devil had declared his attack, waiting for Wood to take the bait.

"You certainly won't stand by and watch these innocent civilians fall victim to my cruelty, will you?"

"How far are you from me now? Twenty-one feet? Or twenty-six feet? In which direction?"

Fret was quite patient, pointing to the crater in the wall of the dyeing pool courtyard--that was the escape route he had made when he crashed through the courtyard wall. For Wood and the other deaf-mute boy, this was the only way out.

"Doing nothing? Are you going to keep being a turtle hiding in its shell?"

The great devil lightly sliced his cheek. A second mouth grew on his flushed skin. This was the innate skill of Pher Grey Butterfly, using the vital essence near the vocal organs as another set of throat and tongue.

"I will kill him with the Boiling Blood Curse. It doesn't consume much spiritual power. It's a death curse spell that requires reciting forty-four syllables, two glides, and four harmonics."

"He will die very slowly, and his corpse will remain somewhat intact, serving as spellcasting material for the crawling monster."

At the same time, two rows of sharp teeth grew on Fret's cheek, and he stuck out a long, forked, purplish-black tongue, beginning to chant.

"Little Mute," who had been hiding outside the door of the washing room, suddenly crouched down. He first pounded hard on the wooden window