The Little Monster Joined the Aurora Order

68

Ademisaul carried the luggage the headmistress had prepared for him in his left hand and cradled a little patchwork rabbit sewn by the children at the Poorhouse in his right. He wore a somewhat worn suit made by the best old tailor in the Poorhouse. The man had once been Tingen's finest tailor, but a traffic accident several years earlier had taken his left hand. Deprived of his livelihood, he had come to the Poorhouse to teach the children how to sew.

Passing ladies and gentlemen occasionally frowned at his clothes, but Ademisaul did not notice. This was the neatest and most presentable he had ever been.

"The Pilgrimage Church... Aurora... the Aurora Order."

Ademisaul took a few steps, mumbling, then pulled out the note the headmistress had tucked into his pocket. It clearly read: Once you arrive at Backlund Station, look for a gentleman wearing a black hat, a blue coat, and brown trousers. He is the person responsible for receiving you.

His seemingly unfocused gaze swept slowly over the people around him, once, then twice, before finally spotting someone who fit the description. The man was reading a newspaper, using it as cover to watch him discreetly. When Ademisaul looked over, the gentleman paused for two seconds, folded his newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and walked straight through the crowd toward him.

"Are you Ademisaul?" the man asked quietly.

He nodded. The man lowered the brim of his hat a little further and half turned to lead the way. "Come with me. Your headmistress should have told you."

Ademisaul nodded again and followed the gentleman, whose clothes were tidy but shabby, out of the station and onto the streets of Backlund. They turned into a quiet lane, repeated the process several times, then stopped outside a house.

The gentleman knocked on the door in a fixed rhythm. A series of knocks came from inside in reply. After considering it for a few seconds, he knocked several more times, and the double wooden doors finally opened. A very ordinary-looking young woman answered. She nodded to the visitors, then led them to the wall of the hall. After she adjusted a wall lamp, a cabinet slid aside on its own, revealing a pitch-black passage. By this point, Ademisaul could no longer remember the route at all.

"This is a temporary base. You'll be told where headquarters is once the handover is complete," the black-haired man said. "You've come at just the right time. We're very short-handed. Don't go speechless when you meet the higher-ups in a moment."

After several turns and a flight of stairs leading downward, they finally reached a fairly spacious underground chamber. Dozens of candleholders lit the tennis-court-sized space brightly. Several people in black cloaks were handling registrations, while several others dressed as workers, like the black-haired gentleman, were reporting to a black-robed figure who appeared to be their leader.

The black-haired man led Ademisaul up to the hooded leader in black robes and spoke respectfully. "Mr. Z, I've brought the person recommended by the Pilgrimage Church."

The man addressed as Mr. Z put down the report in his hands and glanced up at Ademisaul, who stood there blankly. He waved for the others giving their reports to withdraw for the moment, then turned back, apparently waiting for something.

The black-haired man hastily said, "Take out your letter of recommendation!"

Ademisaul froze for two seconds, then bent down and opened his suitcase. He retrieved a letter from among his neatly folded clothes and handed it over. Mr. Z inspected the wax seal, opened the letter, and skimmed it. After verifying the authenticity of the final seal, he set it aside.

"Your superior should have told you. Although the Pilgrimage Church has Beyonders from many different pathways, it has never trained anyone from the Wheel of Fortune Pathway. Rather than waste your talent, she transferred you to us," Mr. Z explained briefly. "She has vouched for you, and your organization has paid for your Sequence 8 potion in advance. We can arrange for you to become a Sequence 9 Beyonder today. As long as you work diligently and build up merit, we in the Aurora Order won't withhold your potion. Do you understand?"

Ademisaul nodded, only half understanding.

"Now then," Mr. Z continued, "almost everyone in the Aurora Order is currently working for the glory of the Lord. We don't keep idle hands. But your superior said you were very capable. Tell us exactly what you can do."

"I..."

The headmistress had asked him this question over and over on the way to see him off. Now, merely hearing those few key words was enough for Ademisaul to answer instinctively, without thinking. His voice sounded somewhat distant, but his words came fluently. "I grew up in the charitable foundation's Welfare Home. Because my spirituality was naturally too high for me to live normally, I became a worker at the Poorhouse after reaching adulthood... I know some words and can read and write. I can sew sheets and quilt covers, cut out simple clothes, make some furniture by hand, and I have experience caring for the sick. I can cook..."

"Excellent. You're exactly the sort of talent we need right now!"

Seeing that he was about to keep reciting, Mr. Z immediately raised a hand to interrupt him. He made a gesture, and a black-robed person watching from a nearby desk immediately lowered their head and began filling out a form. After a flurry of writing, they handed it to Mr. Z.

"Oh, right. As a formality, I still have to ask you this." Mr. Z took the form, opened an ink pad, and asked, "What is your faith?"

Ademisaul answered without hesitation.

"The Evernight Goddess."

Mr. Z's stamping hand froze. In an instant, the rustling basement became so quiet that a pin dropping would have been audible. Every cultist present turned to stare at the little monster's face.

Ademisaul noticed nothing. "...The headmistress said that whenever anyone outside asks me that question, I should answer that way."

Whew. Almost everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The writhing flesh withdrew, the shadows that had spread to his feet retreated, hands clutching charms came out of pockets, and half-recited honorific names went unfinished. Everyone lowered their heads, turned away, and resumed rustling about, getting back to their own business.

"...We're insiders. You don't need to... Forget it. You wouldn't understand even if I explained. You probably won't become lucid until Sequence 8." Mr. Z held his forehead with one hand and stamped the form with the other, then pushed it toward the black-haired man. "The usual procedure. Take him to the East Borough and find Miss Maria, the Pilgrimage Church's person in charge. Have her arrange where the Monster will work."

"Yes, Mr. Z." Delight showed on the black-haired man's face. He bowed slightly, then, not daring to delay, hurriedly pulled the still-uncomprehending Ademisaul out of the basement through another door. After they left, Mr. Z rubbed his temples and picked up the report he had been halfway through reading. He addressed the round-faced man with glasses before him fairly politely.

"Your Excellency, you seem to have objections to our arrangements all the time, but this is the Lord's divine revelation. If you don't want to work at the Poorhouse, we can contact the person in charge and transfer you to the Welfare Home."

The corner of Lanevus's mouth twitched violently. With a hint of mockery, he said, "...And what if I still refuse? The two people who invited me to join the Aurora Order never said I'd have to do volunteer work after arriving."

"This is the Lord's will. As His Believer, you should be all the more willing to follow it, rather than deliberately defying it and causing us losses." Mr. Z, who had been sent to manage human resources after a serious dereliction of duty during the Descent of the True Creator mission, had little patience for this Blessed who had dropped out of nowhere. "If you refuse both options, we won't do anything to you. At most, we'll ask you to return to headquarters and continue resting. You can still enjoy fine food and drink, but you won't be allowed outside the designated area."

"Heh, fine!" Lanevus sneered. "I'd be more than happy to lounge comfortably in my little villa and watch you mingle with filthy lowlifes outside every day. You're no different from them!"

He turned and left. The two guards at the door immediately followed him.

Mr. Z watched him go, frowning in displeasure.

69

"Fors." Xio shook her sleeping companion twice. "Time to get up! It's already eight in the morning!"

The brown-haired woman, reluctant to leave the warmth of her bed, grumbled a few times and tried to bury herself beneath the covers to escape her housemate's calls. But Xio was having none of it. She pulled the covers up, letting the cold mid-September morning air pour straight into the bed. "Get up, Fors! Last night, you swore you'd get up early today and write five thousand words so you could submit your manuscript next week! How come you can't even get out of bed now?"

"A writer's work... doesn't count as procrastination... How can I write a manuscript if I don't conserve my energy..." Fors muttered, half asleep. After a long, arduous struggle with drowsiness, she finally opened her eyes, sat up in movements several times slower than normal, and yawned.

"Ah, I was so stupid. Really. I never imagined a playwright of Mr. Vaughn's stature would deign to attend that little gathering of bestselling writers last night." The author hung her head dejectedly. "When he saw me, he casually asked about my manuscript... I still have a whole month! Don't put so much pressure on me!"

"Only nineteen days," Xio corrected calmly.

"..." Fors instantly woke up, only to lapse back into laziness a moment later. "That still doesn't mean I have to start writing right now. Oh, right, right, Xio, weren't you going on yesterday about attending a Beyonder Gathering today?"

Xio did not mind how clumsily she changed the subject. After all, the Arbiter herself was fretting over having recited the suspected honorific name of an evil god the previous night, then seeing what seemed to be that evil god in her dreams. However, she had kept her worries hidden, not wanting her companion to notice anything amiss.

The Arbiter nodded. "Yes, it starts this afternoon." Before she had even finished, she grew a little nervous again. "Fors, do you think the person selling the Sheriff formula will still be there? Will I be able to find a Beyonder who can perform purification?"

"Don't worry, don't worry. Everything will go smoothly." Fors reassured her friend, then yawned again. "...Xio, are you going out to buy breakfast? Get me a sandwich with meat and a fried egg from the Cake Shop on the corner, and a newspaper. I'll start writing after I eat."

"You said that last time too, then spent the whole morning reading the newspaper. You'd rather stare into space than write a single word on paper."

After this little jab at her housemate, Xio still put on her coat and opened the door. Before leaving, she turned back to remind her, "Hurry up and get out of bed!"

Fors agreed readily. As for how she fell straight back onto the bed after Xio left, slept until Xio returned with breakfast and woke her, then leisurely spent the whole morning eating breakfast, drinking coffee, and reading the newspaper before going to the gathering without having written a single word-that was a story for later.

TBC

*Today was the day Klein was targeted for assassination by a Hunter. He would soon assassinate the Ambassador.

*Everyone at the Aurora Order's internal recruitment session paled in shock: Shouldn't your faith be either His Highness the Abyss Angel or the Lord? Why is the Evernight Goddess an option? Even if you said you worshipped the Temperance Angel, we could at least give you credit for trying!

Oh, a little fool from the Wheel of Fortune Pathway. Never mind, then.