The boy who looked half-asleep on the ground slowly opened his eyes—and in a blink, all his injuries vanished.
Thanks to Reverse Cursed Technique, he could do whatever he wanted to himself without much concern.
Still… cutting himself clean in half felt like it'd really break character. Cyr wasn't a fan of that narrative direction.
He glanced at the sync rate—which had only gone up by two points—and clicked his tongue.
Only two points? Was it because he stabbed himself, so it didn't count as much? Did someone else need to stab him with Heavenly Inversion for it to count properly?
"…Whatever. Red eyes actually look kinda cool." He sighed.
Double the burden, then so be it. It's not like he hadn't been reset back to square one before. He was more or less used to it.
Cyr ended up napping alone on the forest floor before finally heading back to where he'd left Maro and Sora by the airship.
The tent was still pitched neatly, untouched. Maro, Kite, and Sora were all sitting outside.
Oh right—Kite couldn't go inside the tent anyway.
But he looked genuinely content, seriously training Sora like he was having the time of his life.
The moment Cyr appeared, all three—two humans and a tiger—snapped to attention.
"Master!" the blonde youth called out excitedly, as if he hadn't been left behind for a few days but for several years. A bit dramatic, really.
He didn't question the addition of the goggles on Cyr's face—just started showering him with praise. "Master, today's outfit once again exudes your signature style!"
"Rawr rawr, yes!" Sora added a few enthusiastic roars before remembering he could talk. He quickly switched to human speech, lifting his paw as he spoke.
"…," Cyr was already numb to the over-the-top flattery from the man and the tiger. He didn't feel much about it anymore.
Kite, seeing something like this for the first time, was the only one who looked surprised. He stared at Sora in silence for a moment before resuming his observations.
Was a Camp Tiger really supposed to talk like that? Or was this one just a special mutated variant?
His natural instincts as a large-animal behaviorist kicked in.
"Oh right—Master, while you were away, a few things happened…"
"The Nostrade family sent a message. They said they needed to speak with you, and also… the ten billion they owed? The transfer's been completed," Maro began to give a report of everything that had happened over the past few days.
What could the Nostrades want now?
"Ugh, they already paid… what's the point in contacting me anymore? Don't tell me they wanna spend more money to hire me as a playmate or something? I'm not taking those kinds of jobs anymore," Cyr waved his hand dismissively.
It wasn't like he was a mercenary who'd do absolutely anything for cash.
What could he possibly have to talk about with the Nostrades? Unless they skipped out on paying him, or did something that pissed him off.
Speaking of messages…
"My phone's broken. Get me a new one," he said casually to Maro.
In his fight with the Ant King, he'd managed to protect himself, but not his belongings.
For instance, his ugly little plush mascot had gotten tossed aside, and by the end of the battle, his clothes and phone were wrecked too. The phone died on day one. His outfit—ruined like always—had to be swapped entirely.
That's part of why he'd left Maro and Sora behind. Tagging along with him? A good way to get yourself killed.
"They didn't give a reason—just said they wanted to hire you as protection," Maro added, his tone a bit grim.
"Ugh, bodyguard gigs? Too much hassle. I'm not interested. Turn them down," Cyr replied offhandedly.
Did he look like someone with time to spare to babysit rich people? And besides, he wasn't short on money right now.
"Understood. Also, Master—Chimera Ant sightings are being reported all over the world now. Even in Yorknew. The TV stations are airing footage of them eating people in broad daylight," Maro continued.
With Master's phone out of commission, he probably hadn't been keeping up with world news.
"So, they finally can't keep the lid on it anymore." Cyr let out a low chuckle.
Really, this info should've gone public ages ago—but every region had been suppressing it. Now? Not even the media blackout could hold it back.
"That means the Hunter Association's probably about to speed things up," Cyr mused, face full of anticipation, like he was watching a juicy drama unfold.
Netero, only able to fight at less than half strength, squaring off with the Ant King? Yeah, the outcome seemed pretty obvious to Cyr.
The V5 would pressure the Hunter Association, forcing them to hurry up and wrap this all up.
Hmm… so when does the romantic subplot start? The one where the domineering Ant King falls for the human girl?
…
Nostrade Estate.
Neon lay sprawled across her bed, surrounded by scattered sheets of blank white paper. Holding a pen, she frowned in confusion.
"That's weird… why can't I write anything?"
"...Miss Neon, just what did you do? When did this start?" Dalzollene muttered, rubbing his aching head.
If word got out that Miss Neon could no longer do fortunes, the Boss would absolutely lose his mind.
No helping it now. They had to figure something out.
"I dunno. It just stopped working. I did a reading for someone while shopping just a couple days ago…" Neon didn't sound the least bit panicked, like she didn't really care that she'd lost her ability.
"Tch… why hasn't Cyr replied yet…? That guy I met the other day said he was headed somewhere dangerous. I wonder if he's okay now," Neon muttered, rolling back and forth on her bed, clearly frustrated.
A few days ago, while out shopping, she'd met a man—well-dressed in a suit, handsome, gentle-mannered, refined, the very picture of charm.
Of course, Neon hadn't fallen for him at first sight just because of his looks… though she did sneak a few extra glances. The man had approached her first, claiming he seemed to recognize her.
Then he pulled out a photo.
A picture of her and a white-haired boy, taken at an amusement park.
The man claimed to be the boy's friend, and said the boy often talked about Neon.
Neon's cheeks had flushed pink instantly, and the way she looked at the suited man changed—like she was looking at one of her people.
So, when he said, "Cyr mentioned your talent for fortune-telling. I was wondering if I might be lucky enough to receive a reading from you?"—Neon happily agreed.
They sat down at a random tea shop, and she did a reading for him.
The man, who introduced himself as Chrollo, said he and the white-haired boy were from the same hometown, and told her all sorts of things she found interesting. Their chat was lively and pleasant.
So when he asked other questions, Neon had answered without hesitation.
It had been a really delightful conversation. Neon had come away feeling like she understood the white-haired boy even better… and also a little more worried about him.
"…Miss Neon, you…" Dalzollene took a long, deep breath.
Worrying about that bloodthirsty monster who could casually kill dozens of people? Maybe worry a little more about yourself—and the entire Nostrade family instead?!
If they couldn't provide those mob bosses with their promised fortunes, they were all going to die.
The Boss would definitely be the first to go.
Even that appeal for help from the Pelisha heir had been rejected.
Dalzollene left the room with a heavy heart and called the Boss.
"Is it done? Has Neon's fortune been written?" Light Nostrade asked the moment he picked up, practically pouncing on the call.
This was his livelihood, after all.
"…The young lady's ability… still isn't working," Dalzollene said with a sigh.
"Damn it! Give me my Neon back! Give me back her fortune-telling powers!" The voice on the other end of the line broke into a powerless fury.
"This isn't my Neon…" he wailed, collapsing into tears.
"What about next month's fortune batch…? What am I supposed to do…" His body slumped to the floor, as if all strength had been drained from him.
"…," Dalzollene sighed as well.
He'd already sold his soul to the Nostrade family. There was no running. If they went down, he was going with them.
All he could do was pray it was just temporary—that the young lady's powers would return by next month.
°°°
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