Bedford City – City Guard Garrison, Prison.
"Elsa, what do you think? Is he a demon?"
After so absence, the Bedford family's third young master, Sali, entered the prison alongside the hero Elsa, both making a grand appearance.
Inside the heavily guarded chamber, a young man was bound tightly to a wooden cross. A gentle holy light washed over him, slowly nding his wounds while at the sa ti suppressing the corruption twisting his body.
If Stella had mastered Shadow Clone Jutsu and could exist both in Sein Dungeon and here, she would have recognized him instantly—Morgan's other lackey.
The classic trio formation never failed: if Morgan was there, then naturally, his lackey couldn't be far behind.
Elsa circled the restrained man, shark-like teeth flashing. At one mont, she bared them in a fierce glare; at the next, her face shifted into one of doubt and confusion.
Sali frowned at her inconsistent reactions.
Because of her childhood experiences, Elsa had developed an uncanny sense for demons. Whenever one lurked nearby, she was always the first to notice. But now? Her hesitation was unusual.
"This guy…" Elsa pinched her nose and stepped back, disgust curling her lip. "Feels like a demon… but also doesn't."
In her eyes, demons were filth—yet this man reeked of filth while still clinging to sothing human.
Call him human? He could transform into a demon. Call him demon? His essence remained human.
"Even you can't tell?" Sali leaned against the wall, lost in thought.
When the demons had been spat out of the dungeon and even knocked out his useless second brother, the city guards quickly moved in, capturing them and hauling them to prison.
But during transport, one of them suddenly lted down, reverting to his human form.
No one had ever witnessed such a reversal before. Alard, the captain ordered him separated from the rest and locked inside the garrison's most secure cell.
Ordinarily, Count Philip himself would have overseen such a matter. But the old man was away, having gone personally to the royal capital with a shipnt of blood-healing potions. He had left the trusted Sali behind to manage the household.
Had the eldest son, Charon, been present, this duty would have fallen to him. But ever since leaving ho, Charon had never written back. The family had no idea where he was or what he was doing.
When Sali received the news, he rushed over imdiately—bringing Elsa with him.
A demon that could turn into a human. Unthinkable.
The man's identity was quickly uncovered: just a street punk, a petty delinquent. No one could figure out how he had co into contact with demons. Unless, perhaps, he'd been secretly swapped with one—but why would demons bother disguising themselves as a nobody?
The guards pressed further into his social connections. Eventually, they uncovered a clue.
The Anti-Dungeon Organization.
Morgan and his little friends had all been tied to it.
Strictly speaking, they weren't full-fledged mbers—more like sympathizers who bought into their ideals. But following that lead brought up another na: Taimda.
Unlike this lackey, Taimda was a genuine mber of the Anti-Dungeon Organization. He had even organized protests, stirring public unrest. Not long ago, his faction committed open murder in broad daylight—an atrocity so great that the Bedford family had already been preparing to move against them.
But then the sudden rise of the Gourt Zone threw everything into chaos. By the ti people ca back to their senses, Taimda had already liquidated his assets and fled.
This world truly was one giant amateur troupe.
Still, the guards resud their investigation with renewed urgency, tracing every connection to Taimda, no matter how trivial. Even a hint of contact was enough to drag soone in for questioning.
"…We'll wait for the priests to arrive," Sali muttered, rubbing his temples. Everything felt increasingly strange.
"Co on, Elsa," he said at last. "Let's check the interrogations."
Elsa reluctantly left the cell, glancing back three tis with every step. She was torn—should she kill the man or not? To her, a demon deserved only one fate: execution.
"Guard this place. No one enters," Sali instructed firmly.
He then moved to another interrogation chamber. Through a narrow window, he saw a black-haired young man seated inside, being questioned.
"What's his connection to Taimda?" Sali asked the guard beside him.
"He rented Taimda's shop," the guard explained. "It seems like coincidence. Nothing suspicious."
Sali shook his head. "No matter how small the suspicion, it must be checked thoroughly. This concerns demons—we can't afford any carelessness."
"Yes, sir!"
They would soon need to summon magicians to scan the city for demonic traces. Sali made a ntal note, only half-listening as the interrogation continued.
"Na?"
"Maldron."
"Race?"
"Human."
"Gender?"
Wade lowered his head, glanced at himself, and muttered, "Owner of a pair of cows."
"…What nonsense is that?" The interrogator gave him a baffled look, scribbling down Male.
"You already knew that…" Wade sighed under his breath. He considered tossing out a sarcastic, How dare you question my gender? But then rembered—this was another world. The joke would fly over their heads. Best to let it go.
"How did you et Taimda?" the interrogator pressed.
"I saw a rental ad in the newspaper. That's all."
"White Whale Street is pri real estate. Taimda offered the rent dirt-cheap. Didn't that strike you as suspicious?"
"I'm broke." Wade's eyes darkened. "When soone's poor enough, they don't wonder if it's a trap. They just grab the bargain."
"…That's twisted logic."
"Exactly!" Sali muttered from outside, echoing the interrogator.
The questioning went on for so ti. In the end, they determined Wade had no deeper connection to Taimda beyond being his tenant.
"You're free to go. Thank you for your cooperation," the interrogator said at last.
"No problem—it's my duty," Wade replied smoothly.
His politeness left a good impression. Compared to the rogues and rebels who had snarled their way through questioning earlier, Wade ca across as almost gentlemanly.
"Wait," the interrogator added. "Head to the finance office. You're entitled to compensation for lost work."
"Thanks kindly."
The trip had proven useful after all.
From the interrogator's remarks, Wade learned of the Anti-Dungeon Organization's existence. Their serpent-like tattoo was called the Hundred-Horned Serpent.
That confird it—his true enemies were indeed the Anti-Dungeon Organization. His landlord Taimda had been one of them.
"But he's already run. No way to catch him. And the rest are hiding, too…"
As he walked down the corridor, Wade's mind raced. If he wanted answers, he needed to capture a mber of the Anti-Dungeon group—soone still lucid.
Thud, thud, thud—!
Hurried footsteps echoed behind him, accompanied by a young, urgent shout:
"Elsa! Stop!"
Wade turned, confusion flickering across his face—just as a shadow barreled toward him.
A young girl hurled herself straight at him.
It was Elsa.
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