Two Hours Later
* * *
The Guild, with its fifty-year history, has built up one hell of a paper trail. As the largest private Exorcist outfit in Akai City, the Red Guild runs a tight ship.
Archives are spotless. Everything catalogued down to the last corpse. They’ve even assigned special case numbers to incidents resolved by the Akai family.
The last thirty years are digitized—pulling files is as easy as typing a name.
Their attitude’s garbage, but the paperwork’s solid.
And buried deep in that pile of bureaucracy, a name surfaces.
A Demon-worshipping cult called the Hidden Flame.
They used to operate in Akai City. Committing murder, kidnapping, and demonic rites.
Their specialty? Turning kidnapped civilians into Demons and sending them home.
Thirty-three recorded incidents in a single month. Over three hundred casualties.
The root of the madness? It stretches further back—when a young Jinichiro Akai slew the Demon named Homura.
That’s the trigger. The cult was born out of grief and spite.
Since they couldn’t strike at the Akai family directly, they lashed out in random acts of terror.
Eventually, they just... faded.
No crackdown. No final blow. They just went quiet and kept that way.
Then I think about how, two days ago, Coral Eldarian went up in flames.
The attack involved fire-based techniques and Demon control—exactly what the records describe.
All of it points to one thing.
Old grudge. Long fuse. Big bang.
These bastards had two decades to get ready. They’ve been biding their time.
Now they’ve made their move. Prime suspects for sure.
I download everything tied to the Hidden Flame onto a USB. Back it up with hard copies, just in case.
Then I step out of the archive room.
“Oh my. Perfect timing.”
And there she is again. The noble girl inspector.
“I was just about to force myself to finish this awful tea.”
She sets her steaming cup down with a grimace. Barely a sip taken.
I ask, “Were you waiting for me?”
“Hardly. I’ve been inspecting the Guild’s operations. Just happened to finish as you came out. Figured I may as well have a talk.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because your investigation caught my attention.”
“My investigation?”
“Have you identified the hostile organization?”
“I have. Tentatively.”
“You don’t look like much, but apparently you’re not completely useless.”
“…People like to say I’m a hidden gem.”
“I didn’t ask.”
She laughs—just a little. Dry and amused.
Talk about annoying.
She asks, “So? Who are they?”
“Asking for details? That takes on a different meaning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forgive me, my lady, but I still don’t know your name. If you’d share your purpose for asking, I’d appreciate it. Given recent events... I hope you’ll understand my caution.”
I bow politely.
She adjusts her brooch and tie, then lifts her chin with practiced grace.
“My, my, how careless of me. I’m Ophelia Luxor, second daughter of the noble House of Count Luxor. I carry the pride of generations.
If you’ve never heard of us, I won’t fault you. A commoner raised in an orphanage can hardly be expected to know proper bloodlines… even one who serves the Akai.”
Arrogant to the bone. Textbook noble.
“Do people ever tell you you say one thing too many, Lady Ophelia?”
“No? Not at all.”
“I see.”
The name hits me like a shock to the spine.
Count Luxor. English nobility. Allied with the Akai family.
My brain scrapes together scattered memories—I’ve met her before. Pretty sure, anyway.
I’ve got a few stories floating around about me. Didn’t spread them myself—Master ran his mouth.
One of the big ones: Ikaku always settles the score. Even nobles apologize when they piss him off. That story? It starts with the Luxor family. Twelve years ago.
Feeling dizzy, I look her over again.
Golden hair. Crystal-clear blue eyes. A porcelain face and that insufferable little smirk.
Yep. It’s that brat from the dormitory.
The one I met the day I left the orphanage for Boot Camp.
“I’m afraid I lack the education to know you, Lady Ophelia.”
“Oh? You’ve truly never heard my name?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Hmm.”
She scans me head to toe like she’s pricing a slab of meat.
Honestly, it’s scary. Terrifying.
What does that hmm mean? Does she actually recognize me? A no-name commoner she met once, twelve years ago?
No way… I hope.
“I visited Japan once, twelve years ago.”
That came out of nowhere.
I say, “Then this must be your first time back in quite a while.”
“I didn’t want to come. Never wanted to set foot in this country again.”
“I take pride in it being a wonderful country. Did you have some unpleasant experience?”
“There was this little shit of a kid.”
Is she talking about herself...?
“Uh... what kind of kid?”
“Rude. Arrogant. Absolutely insufferable.”
“Ah, I see. So literally what you said.”
“I’ll spare you the details. It’s not like I remember it all that well. It was so shocking that my memory’s hazy.
But I remember the feeling. I swear if I ever see that brat again, I’ll grab his head like this and—”
She makes a claw with her fingers, miming a neck twist.
It almost feels like she meant to grab my head.
My knees lock.
Yep. This girl’s a menace.
“Because of that little punk, I hate Japan. I even took the trouble of studying the language before coming, and that’s what I got for it. Don’t you think that’s just awful?”
“Right. Absolutely unforgivable. To show such disrespect to someone as beautiful, lovely, noble, educated, strong, intelligent, and special as yourself!”
“Exactly. That’s right.”
She stares up at me with those crystal blue eyes.
I can’t meet them.
...Would she forgive me if I apologize right now?