"Don Quixote?" the Demoness Trissy asked with apparent casualness. "Could I meet this sequence 2 Angel?"
No, you can't.
Because I made him up on the spot.
Sifa, who was hiding somewhere in the East Borough, said this inwardly.
Inside the abandoned factory.
Dean Wengris glanced at Trissy, the corners of his mouth slowly rising. "Do you think you're qualified?"
At the Hunter Demigod's response, the Demoness Trissy's hair swelled slightly, as though it had a life of its own. Her expression darkened a little, but she soon resumed the appearance of a sweet young girl.
"If I can't, then I can't. Why say something so hurtful?"
Dean Wengris chuckled. "Are you really that fragile?"
In the mirror, Trissy neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, she asked, "Then what do you need me to do?"
The Hunter Demigod fell silent for a moment, seemingly reining in his earlier madness and fervor. Only after two seconds did he ask, "What conditions would we need to meet to track an Angel-level Demoness?"
Trissy's expression shifted. "It seems you don't have much confidence in this deal?"
"You should know that we're Conspirers. We always need several precautions in place," Dean Wengris said with a chuckle.
The Demoness Trissy frowned slightly. "The requirements are the same as usual."
"Hair, blood-anything connected to the body can be used for divination and tracking."
"But don't say I didn't warn you."
"We specialize in curses. When you try to use blood, hair, or some other medium for divination and tracking, we can use our connection to those mediums to curse you in return."
Dean Wengris shrugged. "Of course I know."
"But thank you for the reminder. You've also shown me your sincerity."
"We'd already thought of those things, but having a Demoness like you confirm them makes it