Chapter 199

Chapter 199

Underground of a certain building.

In the darkness, two men concealed in the shadows were having a conversation.

“The execution order will soon be carried out.”

“Then, we don’t need to do anything else, right?”

“Keep monitoring the progress. Don’t forget His orders.”

“Ah, senior, you know me better. Do you think I’d neglect that? I’ll handle things properly.”

“I hope so.”

The cold muttering of one man was met with the smirk of a younger, somewhat brash man—or rather, a boy—who paced around, laughing.

“Ha! Our boss really is something else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, isn’t it brilliant? Kidnapping the ‘Seeds’ all at once to use them as offerings is difficult, so they polymorphed them into cats, didn’t they?”

“Indeed. If you’ve got a brain, you’d understand that much.”

“Senior, you underestimate me too often.”

“You’ll understand once you’re in my position.”

“Anyway—once we gather these and execute them, the offering will be complete. Sacrificing dozens of cadets at once like this... kuhuhuhu!”

The youth clutched his face, bursting into laughter.

The older man, startled by his outburst, let out a small sigh.

“What’s the status on the Inquisitors?”

“They’re closing in, bit by bit.”

“Any loose ends?”

“We’re cutting them clean, so there’s no need to worry.”

The man crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

The cold, damp surface pressed against his back.

“Lichten Academy could be blown to pieces.”

His superior would undoubtedly be pleased.

◆

Ian’s Protest Notification at the Academy

The location was the central plaza of Lichten Academy’s first student council building.

“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

Beckett’s footsteps were unusually light as she walked toward the plaza.

“I’ll make sure to mock you thoroughly, Ian Blackangers.”

A notice about disposing of the cats. And to counter that, Ian proposed gathering 300 people? Impossible.

“87 people.”

The highest attendance at a protest at the academy in the past 30 years was 87 people.

That, too, was a highly unusual occurrence.

What kind of place is Lichten Academy, after all?

It’s a school that gathers the most talented students on the continent.

Even a single cadet here, by society’s standards, is worth at least as much as a small guild.

And to gather such individuals under a “political cause” for a protest?

“Maybe if you tempt them with money...”

Offering tens of thousands of Krone in wages might attract a few dozen cadets who lack funds, but such a move would blatantly violate continental law.

Therefore.

“It’s impossible, Ian Blackangers.”

Beckett glanced at the distant statue in the central plaza, nodding as she continued walking.

To be honest, Beckett didn’t harbor any deep hatred for Ian Blackangers.

Sure, there had been some minor annoyances earlier in the semester—his reputation, akin to trash, was indeed off-putting, but that was about it.

The current anger directed at him wasn’t personal dislike. Instead:

“Vice President Iris...”

Vice President Iris.

The eldest daughter of Lichten’s leading family. Always composed, professional, and admired by all—a paragon of excellence.

Beckett’s ire stemmed from the fact that Ian, someone who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, had shaken the object of her admiration. Perhaps it was closer to jealousy.

‘I’ve worked so hard by her side, assisting her diligently, yet she hasn’t paid attention to me...’

Meanwhile, Ian had simply barged in, uttered a few words, and effortlessly captured the Vice President’s attention.

“Infuriating.”

Even thinking of the way Iris looked at Ian filled Beckett with jealousy that bubbled uncontrollably.

To enchant the one and only Iris, who should be hers alone—.

“I won’t forgive you.”

Step by step.

“You did not provide monetary compensation to any participants?”

“Correct.”

“And all attendees agree with the political purpose of the protest? Actually, there’s no need for you to answer that—the fact that they’re holding those signs implies consent.”

“Indeed.”

“You even invited the newspaper club to record everything...”

Krrr.

Beckett bit her lip, closing her notebook with an audible snap and tucking it into her pocket.

Beckett pulled out a small magitech device, a counter with a red button and a numeric display.

“What’s that?”

“A headcount device.”

She muttered briefly before walking into the crowd.

— Click!

Each time she pressed the button, a faint light emanated from the device, scanning the area.

The counter on the display climbed steadily as she scanned the crowd.

Meanwhile, I gathered the Dessert Research Club members and Silvia.

“What’s going on, Brother?”

“Beckett is doing a headcount right now.”

Elena, glancing around, spotted Beckett and let out a small exclamation.

“What if we’re short on numbers?”

“I’ll handle it.”

Judging by a rough estimate, we could likely exceed 300 participants.

If not, well, I had a few backup plans—even if it meant bending the rules a little to gather a few dozen more people.

More importantly—

“I have instructions for you all.”

“Just say the word. We’ll follow it.”

Silvia and Elena nodded in agreement.

I looked around at the group and continued.

“Elena, Lina, once Beckett finishes her count, immediately start searching for the remaining cats. Take Blackie with you. He can track scents similar to Danya’s fur.”

“Got it!”

“Understood, Brother.”

At first, they’d been nervous about this kind of task, but now they’d become reliable partners who could handle it with ease.

“And Silvia.”

“Yes.”

Silvia, as always, was someone I could trust entirely, no matter the situation.

That’s why I assigned her the more complex task.

“Once the notice is overturned, we’ll need to search the entire Academy grounds for the scattered cats all at once.”

“...Is there a way to do that?”

“We’ll need certain materials for it. I’m counting on you to gather them.”

I handed her a note.

She scanned the list for a moment and then nodded.

“I’ll try to get these as quickly as I can.”

“Thanks. Use my personal funds if necessary. The priority isn’t cost but...”

“Speed and accuracy. I understand.”

After finishing preparations and sending them off, I returned my focus to Beckett.

Beckett reached the final row of participants, her counter steadily ticking up.

“....”

She paused, staring at me for a moment before turning back to the crowd.

“298.”

Her expression and body language were hard to read—partly furious, partly dazed.

“...299.”

She pressed the counter one more time, almost mechanically.

“300.”

Beckett slowly lowered her hand from the counter, her gaze blank as she turned back to face me.

“I’ll admit it, Ian Blackangers.”

“Admit what?”

She swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly, before bowing her head slightly.

“I lost. This is your victory.”