"Ha. I asked you a question. What are you doing?"
"..."

Irene's sneering laughter slipped through her red lips.
How should I respond?
To me, that laughter sounded like the roar of a massive predator, freezing me in place.
It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I supposed it made sense.

[Skill, 'Emotion' activates.]

[Irene Vermont]
[Age: 24]
[Affection Level: -99]
[Hates you so much that she can barely contain her murderous intent.]

Yes, Irene was practically radiating killing intent.
She stood there, staring at me, her face pale as stone.
With a sudden realization, she ran her hand through her hair, and the suffocating aura lifted, allowing me to exhale a shaky breath.

"What a scare. When I came back to the estate, you seemed like a different person, and I wondered if you’d finally decided to rebel. But now I’m relieved. You’re still the same cowardly little brother."
"..."

She squeezed into the carriage beside me without invitation, making me instinctively flinch and scoot over.
Despite the cramped space, she sat right in front of me, crossing her legs, causing the sharp heel of her shoe to press against my thigh, sending a chill up my spine.

"Care to answer my question? Don’t make me angry again."
"What do you mean...?"
"Those talented kids you begged me to save. I brought them to you, didn’t I? So what are you doing with them now? Is this some kind of orphanage?"
"..."

I always knew this day would come.
When you’re subcontracted for a job, delivering results is part of the deal.
Of course, there’s no guarantee it’ll be a regular occurrence; it could come unexpectedly, just like now.

I was somewhat prepared. I had a few hints from Sylvia.
As Irene’s heel dug slowly into my thigh, I finally managed to speak through clenched teeth.

"I’m running various experiments. It’s easy to break them, but impossible to fix them. So, it’s best to try everything before breaking them completely. I need to collect research data."
"Hmm."
"And to maximize the power of dark energy, I need to increase the drop. To put it simply, I have to break them at the peak of their happiness to get the highest efficiency."
"Is that all?"
"...What?"
"That might have fooled Kali, but you can’t expect it to fool me."

[The Evil God, 'Kali,' looks at you with betrayal in their eyes.]

Damn.
Irene sneered, pressing her heel harder into my thigh, digging in further and further.
I barely stifled a groan.

"Tell me the truth. What are you hiding?"
"..."

How did she know?
Was my lie that unconvincing?
It couldn’t be.
Aslan’s passive skill perfectly supports my lies.
Anything wicked I say should sound believable.

Then how did she figure it out?
Does she have some ability to detect lies?
Wait a second. Aslan has abilities too, even if they’re as trivial as not needing sleep.
I obtained these powers through a contract with the Evil God, Kali. Could Irene have...?

[You have successfully recognized an Evil God.]

[The character profile has been updated.]

[Irene Vermont]
[Age: 24]
[Affection Level: -99]
[Hates you so much that she can barely contain her murderous intent.]

[*Currently contracted with the Evil God, 'Laura.']
[Contract Effect: Wields Laura’s Evil Eye, allowing her to discern lies.]

Behind Irene's head, I could now see a black, smoky figure taking shape.
So, is there something like that behind me too?
Are all Evil Gods perched on people’s backs like that?

"Don’t get distracted. Answer the question."
"Ow!"

She pressed her heel even harder, forcing a groan from me.
As I tried to lean back to avoid it, Irene grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close, leaving no room for escape.
Her crimson eyes bore into mine as if she could see right through me.

"I know when you’re lying. So, spit out the truth."
"..."

It wasn’t a bluff.
No lie could slip past that Evil Eye.
Which meant I had no choice but to confront her head-on.
Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

"Every dark magic spell I’ve researched so far has been nonsense. Dark magic existed long ago, but it’s now lost. It’s all a lie."
"What? What are you talking about? Then what about the books I got for you?"
"All worthless fiction."
"..."

Irene’s expression stiffened as she processed my words.
She must have realized I was telling the truth.
Good. It’s working.

"So, researching dark magic is almost like creating something from nothing. It’s beyond my capabilities. That’s why I need those kids. They’ll conduct the research in my place."
"Huh. So you turned the estate into an orphanage to teach kids?"
"That’s right."
"..."

It wasn’t exactly a lie.
I’d always planned to involve those two in Aslan’s research.
Charlotte might not be of much use, but Yulia’s sharp mind would be a waste to leave untapped.

Irene stared at me for a long moment, then finally released her grip on my collar with a small smile.

"Well, if that’s the case, I guess I misunderstood. I thought you were actually sympathizing with those kids."

She uncrossed her legs, and I breathed a little easier, as the threat to my family jewels disappeared along with it.

"But isn’t this taking too long? How many years until those tiny kids are capable of doing real research?"
"It won’t take long. They’re prodigies. I guarantee it."
"Hmm... Alright. I’ll look forward to it next time we meet. It’d better not just be more excuses. You understand what I’m saying, right?"
"...I understand."

She waved dismissively as she left the carriage.
As soon as the door shut, I let out a long sigh of relief.

'She’s impossible to deal with.'

She keeps demanding results even though all the dark magic books are junk.
Is she completely insane?
Why is she so obsessed with dark magic?
No wonder Aslan grew up to be a psychopathic villain under a sister like that.
Now I fully understand his descent into darkness.

'Time’s running out. I need to act.'

There’s the upcoming presentation at the symposium.
And Irene’s pressure isn’t helping.

I really need to produce results.
But how am I supposed to create dark magic when I have no leads?
How did Aslan even complete it?

'Wait. Was it really dark magic?'

A thought crossed my mind.
That black magic Aslan displayed in Chapter 1—was that really dark magic?
Maybe it was something that merely resembled it.

It feels like I’m finally getting a sense of direction.

"Here’s your dormitory. Your room’s at the end."
"Where at the end?"
"Right there. The attic."
"..."

The matron dismissed her guide duties without a second glance.
Yuri’s face twisted in displeasure.
Maybe she resented the special admission.

'Well, I guess that’s understandable.'

Of course, Yuri was just as confused.
She’d been admitted without needing to take an exam...
If she didn’t do well, it would be a disgrace to the benefactor too.

Did they really believe in her talent that much?
Based on what? How?
Did they have some ability to assess talent just by looking?
It was an unusual situation, even in the academy’s history.

"Wow! The attic is huge!"

Yuri’s expression lit up as she climbed up the ladder.
The tightly sealed windows,
the walls that kept out the drafts,
and a soft bed...

Is this heaven?
How could there be a room this luxurious?
Having grown up with the bare minimum at the orphanage, Yuri had never experienced such comfort.

"Wait, this isn’t the time!"

After tumbling and rolling around on the bed for a while,
Yuri suddenly snapped awake, eyes wide open.
She wasn’t here to lounge around.

"I didn’t come here to play. Get it together, Yuri."

She came to gain strength.
To save Yulia and Charlotte.
This wasn’t about enjoying a luxurious life.
She repeated that to herself, burying her face in the soft mattress.

It was soft.
So soft she could almost forget why she came.
After hugging and rolling around with the pillow for a while,
she suddenly remembered the person who made it all possible and sat up.

"Strange person..."

The anonymous benefactor.
Even if she couldn’t find out who they were, she could still contact them.
Yuri unpacked her belongings and took out a pen, sitting properly at the desk.

"What should I call them? Hmm. They were dressed all in black, even their hat, so I’ll call them 'Mister Black'."

And with that, she began to write.
Dear Mister Black,
Why do I call you Mister Black? Well, it’s because...
She continued, writing a letter of thanks.