The Golden Mirror lacked artistic sensibility—that much had been determined by Hilde herself. As she examined the city more closely, it became evident that the architecture relied on a limited number of repetitive patterns. In stark contrast, the statue was incredibly detailed. From the wrinkles around the mouth to the intricately carved beard and hair, even the lifelike expression—it wasn’t the work of someone using repetitive patterns.

It looked as if a living person had been petrified.

Hilde’s eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically.

‘Of course, Father! You do have an eye for fine art! After all, art is a human domain. There’s no way the King of Humans wouldn’t recognize that!’

To be honest, I gleaned that insight from reading your thoughts, Hilde. Still, it’s unnerving. While the rest of us focused on the negotiations, she was busy scrutinizing a statue. What kind of person does that?

"...You lot. I can’t tolerate this any longer. I’ve shown you goodwill, but—"

Hecto’s body trembled with rage, his pistons releasing bursts of hot air that heated the surrounding air. Pressure transformed into heat, radiating outward.

Wait, why’s he glaring at me like he wants to kill me? All the sensitive stuff was brought up by the Regressor—I only followed up! What is this, Jenga? The person who makes the last move takes all the blame?

Fuming, Hecto stretched out his hand. A dozen pistons emerged from his body, all aimed squarely at me. With just a thought, those pistons could unleash a barrage that would pulverize my entire body.

"Do you think you can threaten me?!"

This was a taboo. No matter how short the lives of those in the Heat Nation, no one truly wanted to die tomorrow. If word spread that their food supply caused deformities—and worse, could kill them—it would wreak havoc.

If the public learned that the food processed by the Oppressionist Overseer posed such dangers, they’d stop buying it. They’d seek refuge in Claudia instead. A handful of elites could bear the cost, but if everyone sought sanctuary in Claudia, the system would collapse. The economy, the society—everything would crumble.

For the Heat Nation to maintain even a semblance of order, this taboo had to remain hidden. And now, outsiders from an enemy nation at war had uncovered their secret.

‘If it comes to it, I’ll fight to the death… If I can’t handle it myself, I’ll use the power of the Golden Palace!’

Hecto’s voice was resolute as he prepared for the worst. Truly, he was loyal to a fault.

“No, no, I’m just asking out of curiosity,” I said quickly, raising my hands in a placating gesture. “If we were guessing blindly, we could have made a mistake. If we wanted to use this to threaten you, we’d have brought it up more overtly in front of everyone.”

Hecto hesitated. He was cautious, but not unreasonable. A lesser man, driven by anger or mistrust, might not have listened at all. Instead, he seemed to consider my words carefully, recognizing them as a genuine inquiry born of curiosity.

‘Are they afraid of becoming statues if they face the Golden Mirror?’ he thought. ‘Well, I suppose if they’ve guessed that much, it’s natural to be afraid. I can’t brush this off lightly.’

After a tense moment, Hecto exhaled deeply and retracted his pistons.

"...Resonating with the Golden Mirror doesn’t turn you into gold or steel. Those statues weren’t once living humans. You can rest assured."

"Then what happens?" I pressed.

"Don’t ask further. I absolutely cannot tell you. However, I can guarantee that as outsiders, you are safe."

That was enough. Even if he didn’t spell it out, I could glean the truth from his thoughts. Hecto himself didn’t know the exact mechanics of “resonance.” Only the Golden Mirror held that knowledge. But as someone who had served the Golden Mirror for years, Hecto understood the outcome, even if he couldn’t explain the process.

Humans who resonated with the Golden Mirror were… “collected.” Made available for recall at any time.

I had uncovered another clue. Satisfied, I nodded.

"If you don’t want to explain, that’s fine. I just wanted to confirm that I’m safe."

"...Thank you for understanding," Hecto said, though his expression wasn’t particularly grateful. Likely just a formality.

Despite the tension, the Regressor ultimately agreed to Hecto’s proposal, granting a one-day delay. Hecto, who seemed both relieved and resigned, didn’t dismantle the steel canopy. Instead, he called Peru over to glean more information about us. It was oddly endearing—though not very characteristic of the Heat Nation, perhaps people like Hecto were precisely what kept it functional.

The Regressor, nonchalantly walking away from the steel canopy, glanced back with a faint smirk.

“So, they weren’t actual people turned into statues? That’s even more surprising.”

"You knew?" I asked.

"Obviously. When a statue’s overly lifelike, the first thing you question is whether it’s a real person."

Wow. Normal people would just marvel at the craftsmanship. What kind of life have you lived to think like that?

"Still," he continued, "it’s impressive you figured it out too."

"I just pieced together what the Oppressionist Overseer let slip. Resonating with the Golden Mirror sounds unsettling. I’m glad I’ve avoided eating Heat Nation food, just in case."

"They said outsiders aren’t at risk, but yeah."

‘If I died in the Heat Nation and resonated with the Golden Mirror, would I still be able to regress...? Ugh, not something I want to find out.’

Shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought, the Regressor began to prepare. "I’ll try to locate the Golden Mirror myself. If Hecto’s right, it’s nearby. Knowing the location ahead of time gives us more options. Worst case, we ditch Hecto and approach the Golden Mirror directly."

Declaring he had no intention of keeping his promise, the Regressor exuded an air of confidence. It was, well, very him.

Hilde, meanwhile, clapped her hands mockingly. "Wow~! You really have no intention of honoring your promises, do you? I’m so impressed! Truly moving!"

"Shut it. What are you going to do for the next day?"

"Me? I’m going to disguise myself and gather intel!"

"That’s no different!"

"It’s not ‘me’ accepting Hecto’s proposal, remember? Besides, when I transform, I become someone else!"

"‘Become’ someone else? You’re still you, just in a different skin."

The Regressor’s casual remark seemed to strike a nerve. Perhaps it was exactly what a shapeshifter who’d lost their true identity needed to hear. But sometimes, the message can sting depending on the messenger. Hilde wiped the smile off her face and replied coldly.

"You have no right to say that. You’ve never been able to find the ‘real me.’"

"I can recognize you. I’ve guessed correctly before."

"Using that eye of yours? Please. Anyone can identify someone if they suspect them enough. Even then, you need to rely on the power of light just to confirm. It’s pathetic. Worse, you don’t even realize how pathetic it is. The only person who ever saw through my disguises immediately was Father."

Oof. I mean, I also use something akin to clairvoyance, so I’m not really in a position to judge. But at least I’m aware of how I cheat.

"...Why the sudden hostility?"

"You’re insulting my transformation skills. Anyway, I need to prepare for infiltration. Bye~."

Hilde waved her hand dismissively and headed for a shadowy alley. The Regressor stared after her, bewildered.

"What’s her deal?"

"Who knows? But it seems you’ve upset her."

"You think that’s my fault?"

Not exactly. Maybe they just don’t click.

The plan to gather information separately had been set, but I had no intention of running around on foot. Physical work wasn’t my forte, after all.

The Golden Mirror. Was it aiming to become a king, or a god?

Its intentions were impossible to understand. Its actions lacked consistency. Producing food and building cities seemed like an effort to save humanity, yet its ultimate goal was to "collect" those humans. To live meant being "collected," and to die meant being "dismantled."

But why would anyone want to collect humans?

Was that why it insisted on the title "Golden Mirror"? Neither a king nor a god?

"I have to meet it in person."

Muttering to myself, I retraced my steps along the path I’d come. But just as I was walking, I heard a commotion ahead. Looking up, I saw an argument further down the street. A wagon had collided with something, and the owners were shouting at each other.

"Who the hell brought a wagon into the city?!"

"It was your fault for stopping so suddenly!"

"What does my stopping have to do with you slamming into the wall?!"

A traffic accident. Not an uncommon sight.

This city housed alchemists under the Oppressionist Overseer as well as wolves scavenging around the cornfields. Thanks to Hecto’s authority and reputation, order was somewhat maintained, but with so many unruly wolves gathered in one place, conflicts were inevitable.

I decided to avoid the scene and take a detour. I wasn’t familiar with the city’s layout, but with a decent sense of direction, I’d eventually reach my destination.

What? Getting lost? That mythical creature? Humans who get lost don’t count as human. It’s embarrassing for beings who only have their intellect to rely on. If you’re a human and you get lost, you’re disqualified. Goodbye, humanity.

With that, I slipped into a side alley, heading toward the next street. But then—

"Wait. There’s no way through here."

Strange. By my calculations, there should’ve been a path here. Maybe it’s further down. Let’s try the next alley.

Ah, there it is. Just as I was about to step into the alley, I caught a thought from inside that made me freeze in my tracks.

‘When they come, I’ll stab them. That guy looks loaded, so it’ll only take one good hit. One hit’s all I need!’

A would-be robber. His thoughts were clear and filled with intent to kill. He clutched a dagger tightly, prepared to strike without hesitation. Against someone like that, trying to talk my way out would only get me stabbed on the spot.

Time to leave. Casually turning right, I decided to head down another path.

I wasn’t lost yet. I still knew which direction the sun rose from and could clearly distinguish north, south, east, and west. Worst case, I could climb a rooftop and leap between buildings if needed. I’m not a person who gets lost.

But it felt odd. The paths I’d chosen, without much thought or deliberation, seemed to lead me to specific places—narrow, secluded alleys where someone could jump out at any moment.

It felt like I was being guided, though not by choice. As if every step I took was preordained, a move in some grand chess game orchestrated by a master player who could see dozens of moves ahead. It was an eerie sensation.

But that couldn’t be possible. I was a mind reader, a scam artist in the psychological battlefield. If someone was playing me, I’d read their thoughts and turn the tables. Yet, none of the wolves, robbers, or even the blocked paths seemed intentional. None of it felt planned.

Was it just coincidence? A series of random occurrences? No... maybe there was one other possibility.

"Beware, savage."

…Or perhaps, fate.

A woman cloaked in a deep hood stood at the end of the alley, blocking my way. The only visible parts of her were her sharp chin, ash-gray hair, and a hardened fist emerging from her sleeve.

As expected. I’d read her thoughts, but there was no avoiding this now. From the moment I turned down that first alley, this encounter had been set in motion.

The Iron Saintess. Peruel.
One of the Saintesses of the Holy Order, and the only one who possessed pure destructive power.

She was standing there, just as planned, to deliver a warning. Her intent wasn’t to attack—at least, not yet. She had come solely to issue a warning.

"If you seek to end this war, I will watch silently. In fact, you may even receive blessings on your path. However, should you pursue further chaos, should you seek to reduce humans to beasts driven by base desires..."

The Iron Saintess raised her tightly clenched fist, pointing it at me. Her fists, wrapped in sacred steel, weren’t protected for her sake, but for the sake of those who might face her punches. A bitter irony—despite this consideration, none had ever survived her strikes.

Her fist was not a weapon; it was a verdict. A judgment that spared nothing.

"Carrying the blessing of the First Saintess, who blessed servants and cursed savages..."

Even if I hadn’t come alone, it wouldn’t have mattered. Against the Iron Saintess, no defense was enough. She was unstoppable. Completely.

Peruel pointed directly at me, her voice cold and resolute.

"I will personally deliver divine retribution to you with this fist!"

Not to me specifically, though. Her words were directed toward the King of Humans.