The Feint Strikes a Vital Point

Episode 15

It began with nothing more than casual, trifling chatter.

As always, after a soul-chilling meeting, the Minister was the first to depart, and John, hoping to dilute the lingering fear, casually tossed out a line.

“Speaking of which, I ran into the Minister at the Magical Artifact Department Store during my last vacation.”

“The Magical Artifact Department Store?”

“…I can’t even picture them both there.”

As expected, his colleagues immediately bit at the bait, the ‘Minister’ topic. John chuckled and continued.

“No, it was my first time there too, but it was surprisingly fun. I even met the Minister’s younger sister there.”

“Ah, the one they call the ‘Ice Devil’?”

“Didn’t the Minister gift us blankets made by her?”

Valdemar mentioned he found it useful even when he slept, and the other colleagues nodded in agreement, praising its quality.

“Yes, that’s right. Afterward, the Minister allowed me to keep them company until it was time for their appointment, and we looked around at the various magical artifacts together. It was quite enjoyable, I must say.”

It had started as an attempt to lighten the mood, but John’s story had inadvertently become a boast. Christina, who had been quietly listening, chimed in, claiming she understood.

“The Minister is incredibly kind when they’re not working. Of course, I like the Minister as they usually are, but the difference is… appealing, I suppose? They buy us snacks, too, to the point where I worry they think we need to gain weight–”

“Hmph.”

“…What, Celine? Why are you laughing?”

Startled by the involuntary snort while tidying the documents used during the meeting, Christina scowled. Celine apologized to her with the utmost politeness.

“I’m sorry, Christina. I didn’t mean to laugh at your little reminiscence. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“…That you’re so happy about getting snacks. It’s… rather endearing.”

A distinct ‘creak’ echoed through the meeting room from Christina’s grinding teeth.

A tension different from that of the meeting filled the air.

“If you’re going to say something like that, Celine, that must mean you’ve gone out with the Minister before, too?”

“Just going out? We even do grocery shopping together at the market.”

“Huh?!”

Actually, they’d only shopped together once, but Céline layered the nuance just so, suggesting it was commonplace to run errands with the Director.

Cristina, completely and utterly ensnared, hadn’t even begun to recover from the initial shock when Céline delivered an even more potent follow-up.

“And not long ago, the Director and I had dinner at a truly splendid place.”

“D-Dinner?!”

This surprised not only Cristina, but everyone in the room.

Erwin had been Director for ten years, and not once had he ever had a meal, of all things, with someone from the Intelligence Bureau, personally.

“Hmph! Probably just some street vendor’s stall, anyway!”

“＜The Golden Gryphon＞, actually.”

“Th-The Golden Gryphon?!”

A seismic shockwave ripped through the conference room.

Employees, agents, even Owls – their pupils dilated to the point of near-expulsion, and John, who’d set the whole thing in motion, stood with his jaw unhinged, unable to close his mouth.

The Golden Gryphon, you see, was ranked among the top three most exclusive restaurants in the entire system.

The flavor of dishes prepared with ingredients imported from every corner of the continent was whispered to be heavenly, and its first-class service was reputed to satisfy even royalty.

“B-But isn’t that place… impossible to get into with just money…?”

“Don’t be absurd. Have you forgotten who the Director is?”

“I mean… it’s just that…”

Cristina, overwhelmed by damage that far exceeded her processing capacity, was thoroughly flustered, but Céline, unconcerned, continued to reminisce with a faraway look in her eyes.

“That day was truly wonderful. A banquet accompanied by the soothing music of Armstrongmenz… it was something truly special.”

“Armstrongmenz? To hear them play live, you need to pay scalpers at least ten times the face value… they’re an incredibly popular ensemble…”

It was Alexander, who considered himself something of a connoisseur of music, muttering emptily, seemingly devoid of hope.

“And the wine? Did you drink wine, too?”

“I did. I don’t know much about it, but I think it was called a Winosus, a 25-year vintage, perhaps?”

“Winosus?! And a 25-year, you say?!”

Sergei, despite his androgynous appearance, was a considerable lover of alcohol, practically on the verge of tears.

“This is… beyond words. Were there other famous people there?”

“No, there weren’t. The Director chartered the entire place, so we were the only ones. I don’t know what it’s usually like.”

“…The Golden Gryphon… entirely… chartered…?”

John and Valdemar went down in flames, side by side.

The other employees and agents weren’t much different. As for Cristina, she was beyond words now.

“Well, then, I’ll be excusing myself. I have lunch with the Director.”

Celine, having laid waste to the conference room with her words, gathered her documents and left. Leaving her colleagues staring blankly into space.

—

I’d been looking forward to a smooth exit from work and a quiet evening at home, but my younger sister ambushed me in the lobby and dragged me off to dinner.

Apparently, the research on her current magical artifact project had wrapped up, leaving her idle until the next topic was assigned.

I wanted to tell her to find a decent man with all that free time, but I knew she wouldn’t listen. So, I decided to ask about something that had been nagging at me.

“Asero Kerkkyo?! Of course, I know her, but I never expected that name to come out of *your* mouth, brother!”

Me neither. If that crazy woman hadn’t broken into my house the other day, I wouldn’t have asked.

“What kind of woman is she?”

“If you were to name the greatest mages of all time, she’d *have* to be on the list! It’s a shame she lived a thousand years ago!”

“You want to talk magic with her?”

“No! I want to see who’s stronger, Angela or her!”

That sounded about right.

Anyway, it seemed my sister, a practicing mage, knew about as much as I did.

Since we were on the subject, maybe I should ask about another thing that had been bothering me.

“Just hypothetically, if there was a mage who’d somehow surpassed the natural human lifespan, could you guess how they might have done it?”

Angela’s hand, poised to cut her steak, froze.

“Brother? May I ask why you’re asking that question, and what your reason is?”

“Simple intellectual curiosity.”

“Haa… I figured you’d say something like that! That’s actually a *very* dangerous question to ask, you know?!”

Oh. Really? I didn’t realize. Was it something I shouldn’t even *mention*?

“In casual conversation, it’s probably not a big deal! But for mages, the subject of immortality is practically forbidden!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous, duh!”

I guess if anyone and everyone could achieve immortality, it would get pretty messy, in a lot of ways.

“So, we can’t even talk about methods?”

“It’s not that strict! Like I said, it’s okay for conversation, and it’s you asking, so it’s fine!”

She’s saying it’s okay because I’m too dumb to understand it, isn’t she?

I think I’m so sad I could cry.

“So? What are the methods?”

“Actually, there’s a crazy amount of ways to try! So many I couldn’t possibly list them all! It’s just that most of them have a 99.9% chance of failure!”

The success rate is like, 0.1%.

Isn’t that kind of high?

Sounds doable, doesn’t it?

“What’s the most typical method we could talk about?”

“Hmm. Well, there’s always soul transference! Simply put, swapping bodies!”

“Bodies?”

Angela explained that the closer the host body was to the original, the higher the chance of success. But even if it worked, there was almost a 100% chance of severe memory or identity problems.

“The relationship between the soul and the body, especially the soul itself, is an unstudied and forbidden territory! At least, in all the cases I know of, I’ve never heard of a success!”

So, there were some nutjobs who tried it, huh?

Anyway, this confirms it.

That woman who broke into my room that time was definitely bonkers.

Having satisfied my curiosity, I lost interest in the witch and continued my meal with Angela.

After dinner, Angela dragged me off to a play at the theater she’d reserved, and only then was I released to go home.

But the next day, when I arrived at the Intelligence Bureau, I was greeted with startling news.

“Christina’s injured and hospitalized?”

She was the kind of creature who even *got* injured?

—

‘I messed up. I messed up, I messed up, I messed up, I messed up!’

Lying in her hospital bed, Christina covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

It wasn’t the pain of the wound that bothered her. Her life wasn’t in danger, and no vital areas were hit.

So why was Christina crying?

Naturally, it was because she had disappointed the Director.

‘They weren’t even that strong! I could have beaten them with my eyes closed normally! Why! Why!’

Last night, a battle broke out at the Institute between Owls and unidentified attackers.

The attackers, brazenly, targeted the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, specifically the Director’s office. However, alerted by the Owls, they were all killed on the spot without accomplishing anything.

Except for one, whom they deliberately captured alive for information.

But in the process, Christina had been injured.

Her mind had been elsewhere.

‘I’ll be thrown away! Unlike Celine, I’m useless now. The Director will abandon me!’

Regret and despair warred within her, but more than either, she felt dread.

The mind forged in fire, honed to a razor’s edge as an assassin since childhood, threatened to shatter. The thought of being discarded by the Director was unbearable.

The Director held no regard for incompetence.

He would offer no second chance to a pathetic Owl operative who’d allowed her focus to wander in the heat of battle, resulting in a pierced abdomen.

This realization plunged Christina into utter desolation.

‘I can’t live. I can’t live if the Director abandons me!’

In that instant, she resolved to die.

Her body remained unresponsive, leaving her helpless, but the moment she regained even a sliver of movement, she would end her own life, no matter the cost.

Throw herself from the window, plunge a knife into her throat – she would find a way.

Even as she steeled her resolve, she succumbed to wrenching sobs, grief at the prospect of never seeing the Director again consuming her.

*Click.* The door to the sickroom slid open, and someone entered.

“D-Director?!”