Chapter 237: Name (4)

"This is the man, Professor," Bethan said.

Bethan visited me at the Yukline mansion with someone he called a whistleblower, their face covered behind a mask.

“This is the man who sought me out from the desert—”

“Bethan, move ahead. If this man’s words hold true, there’s no room left for hesitation,” I ordered.

“... Yes, Professor.”

"What you’ve done will not go unnoticed, and it will reach Her Majesty’s ears."

"Yes, Professor!" Bethan replied, rising at once with a formal salute, and as he turned to leave, a bright smile spread across his face.

Soon after, the attendants stepped out, and in the silence that settled over the sitting room, I used

Telekinesis

to lift the mask from their face.

“

Agh

!”

Pale skin. Long blond hair. Blue eyes, as clear as ice. There was nothing that aligned with the signs of the Scarletborn in him. But that’s what he was—indistinguishable from any other citizen of the Empire.

“Your name?” I inquired.

“... Lumenil, sir,” the man replied, his voice taut with nerves.

“Is that your true name?”

"Yes, sir. It is my real name."

Although his voice shook, his eyes remained clear. There was no doubt in them.

"So, Primien is Scarletborn?" I inquired, nodding.

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“On what grounds?”

"Lillia’s real name is Yurine. Like me, she’s a Scarletborn from the Northern Region. We’ve known each other for fifteen years."

"Is this how you choose to betray fifteen years of camaraderie?" I said, meeting his eyes with a faint smirk.

"... This isn’t betrayal. The Scarletborn have no future. And to be honest, I’ve never believed in them—not as a kind, not as a people. So shouldn’t I at least try to survive? I wasted ten years of my life in the desert. Ten years," Lumenil said, his voice loosening, looking as if the weight on his shoulders had already made peace with his choice.

Then, with the look on his face—it wasn’t just disillusionment but an unfiltered hatred—Lumenil continued, “Just like you said, Professor—the Scarletborn are nothing but vermin. They’re the kind of people you can’t count on. Filthy, crawling things. All of them."

For a moment, I was at a loss for words. I blinked, then kept my eyes on him.

“I wanted to leave there as soon as I could. Even a day sooner would’ve been a blessing. However, the Scarletborn’s desert is basically a death trap. Once you fall in, there’s no way out. No escape, no second chances. That’s why I kept pretending to be loyal all this time. But,” Lumenil added, his voice trembling with anger, as if the words were tearing their way out of him.

Then Lumenil reached into his chest pocket, pulled out a capsule no bigger than a fingertip, and said, "Here is the Scarletborn’s list—and a map of the desert."

Craaack—

The moment Lumenil cracked the capsule open, a compiled list and an oversized map spilled out.

“Is that your talent?” I inquired.

"Yes, sir. This capsule can store anything by miniaturizing it down to size. To begin with, this list holds the names of Scarletborn agents who have infiltrated the Empire. I only had clearance to record five thousand of them, and time was tight. But wouldn’t capturing five thousand be considered a worthy achievement?" Lumenil asked the question as if seeking acknowledgement.

I nodded.

“And more than anything—this map of the desert. With it, the entire Scarletborn can be brought to their knees. Even the Great Elder could be captured and put to the sword,” Lumenil added, a confident smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"

Hmm

, is that so?"

"... I would like to request a single island."

The man's request came out of nowhere—so strange that I felt my brow tighten before I even realized it.

“An island, and perhaps two hundred attendants—I would like them all to be women, though I wouldn’t mind a few pretty looking men among them. A grand mansion built on the land, enough elne to live out my remaining years in comfort, and, of course, the guarantee of my status would be more than enough,” Lumenil added with absolute conviction.

I remained silent.

“Professor, if you look at me, I don’t look anything like a Scarletborn. And if someone like me—a whistleblower—is given proper recognition, their downfall will only come that much faster. The fate of my people? Tell them to go fuck themselves. I’m not a Scarletborn—I’m not one of them. I’m just a man who wants to succeed.”

... Was this man's name on the named character's list, or is he just another desperate soul running for his life?

I thought.

I had to admit, he was a strange one—so strange, I couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time someone had made me genuinely laugh.

“

Haha

.”

Lumenil’s face brightened at that—and after a moment, he laughed with me.

“

Ha

,

Haha

.

Hahaha

.”

“You’re an entertaining one,” I said

“Pardon me?

Oh... Oh

~

Hahahaha

! Thank you, sir—

hahahaha

! Motherfucking Scarletborn.

Hahahaha

—!”

As the man laughed loudly, I reached for the Wood Steel and set it into motion.

***

In the Deputy Director of the Ministry of Public Safety's office, Primien pulled the curtain back just enough to see outside, where many were waiting in the shadows.

“...

Hmm

.”

Perhaps it is time,

Primien thought.

Primien stayed composed, gathering her thoughts—and what little she needed to take. There wasn’t much, just stocks and bond certificates, some cash, and a stack of classified documents from the Ministry of Public Safety. All of it slipped into a single bag.

From here, she just needed to follow the plan. Primien wasn’t a fool, and as a Scarletborn, being prepared had never been optional. Of course, the weight in her chest slowed her down—just long enough to waste a little time. One last time, Primien turned to the window, looking out at the wide expanse of the Capital and letting the view settle in her eyes.

“... Is it really not possible to just live together in peace?” Primien muttered, the question blooming from the quietest corner of her heart.

The Capital had always been a good city. For Primien—who hated the cold and valued convenience—it was a place worth living. Even for the Scarletborn dying in deserts or wasting away in camp fences, it still seemed to offer something like peace.

In the Capital, there were ways to make it—through stocks, the lottery, or a lucky bet at the track. For those willing to work, there were jobs; for the strong, there was the military; for the bright, the civil service exams. That was the kind of Capital Primien liked; she liked the Empire too, for the land was never at fault—it was the people who ruined things.

Primien took her bag, slipped into her coat, and sent a current of mana through the floorboards.

𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Click—

Beneath the moving tile, a narrow shaft revealed itself—a vent that ran below the Ministry of Public Safety, all the way to its backyard garden. Primien let mana flow into it like a lubricant, and the structure responded without hesitation.

Whooooooosh—

As she slipped inside, her body gave in to the slope, gliding downward in one silent motion until light touched her face again beneath the garden trees.

Rustle—

Primien stood up, the grass brushing her ankles, dusted off the dirt from her briefcase, and then crossed to the manhole leading to the sewers.

“...

Hoo

.”

Before slipping into the depths, Primien looked up at the Ministry of Public Safety one last time and drew a long breath, the last of the Empire.

"Goodbye. This city was never meant for someone like me."

The continent had never made room for the Scarletborn, as there was no word to draw a line between them and the Altar. Perhaps, then, history had only done what it always does.

The Empire burned with violent demonic acts of terror. But in the eyes of the world, guilt was not given piece by piece; instead, it was handed collectively to the Scarletborn, as if they were one and the same.

Primien could do nothing against the momentum of that history, for the eradication was Empress Sophien’s declared top priority, and no one dared oppose her.

“Fuck,” Primien muttered as soon as her boots hit the sewer floor beneath the manhole.

The stench inside the sewer rose thick and sour, curling into her throat. Primien turned her face away, covering her nose with her hand.

Thud—

Thud—

Primien's footsteps echoed through the tunnel, but even that noise was swallowed by the sound above.

“Primien! Where is Primien!”

"Do you mind if I ask what has happened?"

“What happened? I said, where is Primien?! I’m Bethan of the Elite Guard! Out of my way, unless you'd rather be mistaken for Scarletborn scum...!”

Did they really raid the entire Ministry of Public Safety?

Primien thought, shaking her head as she moved deeper into the sewer tunnel.

Thud—

Thud—

The point where Primien and Elesol had agreed wasn’t far from where she was, and someone with a new identity for her would be waiting there. Running to the desert would have been almost expected; therefore, instead of moving inland, like something hiding in plain sight, Primien chose to go to a port city under a different name once more....

“

Hmm

?”

As Primien stepped deeper into the passage, a faint outline of a figure appeared at the far end of the tunnel—a silhouette blurred by the murk of shadow.

"You’re early," Primien said, approaching.

No answer came, but something about the face in the shadows was familiar.

“Hey, Lumenil.”

Lumenil was one of the few Scarletborn who had ever known Primien by face, not just by name.

Primien walked closer to him and asked, “Did you bring everything I asked for...”

Before Primien could finish her sentence, Lumenil collapsed, his body crumpling to the floor like dropped timber. It took Primien a moment to register it, and when she finally knelt beside him and checked, his skin had gone stiff, his face drained of color—and his eyes, bloodshot and swollen, belonged to someone who had been dead for quite some time.

“... Who are you?” Primien muttered, mana gathering at her core as her eyes snapped toward the space behind her.

At that moment...

Clack—

There came the click of dress shoes, ringing clearly through the dark, and a wave of fragrance followed—elegant and expensive—and in a breath, the rot of the sewer faded into nothing.

Sniff, sniff—

Primien’s nostrils flared at the scent before she even realized it. Then her eyes locked on the figure in the distance, and a strange tension climbed her spine, her chest tightening beneath the weight of something she hadn’t yet named.

“Primien.”

The voice that called Primien’s name belonged to none other than Deculein—head of the Yukline, feared even by the Scarletborn children of the desert more than the tiger scorpions that haunted their nights.

“Going somewhere?”

Deculein's voice slid in like frost, and Primien met it with eyes emptied of feeling.

“I already asked you if you’re going somewhere,” Deculein repeated once more.

Primien’s eyes dropped slightly, glancing at the ground at an angle.

Lumenil, the Desert’s Messenger. We shared fifteen years together,

Primien thought.

“

Ah

, yes. This man,” Deculein said, curling his lip and giving a slight shake of his head. "He left me with some curious words."

Clack—

Deculein took a single step forward, and a bead of sweat slipped down Primien's temple.

"That Primien—you’re Scarletborn."

Primien remained silent.

“And the one who fed information to Bethan was also... this man, Lumenil,” Deculein continued, not bothering to hide his contemptuous glance at the corpse.

Primien gave no sign, but her heart was pounding as if it might tear free from her chest.

“For a reward, he asked for an island, one with hundreds of maids and servants, stocked with gold and silver. In exchange, he claimed he’d provide us with a list of five thousand Scarletborn—and the location of their desert,” Deculein added as he turned back to Primien.

“But... why did you refuse?” Primien asked, meeting Deculein’s eyes before swallowing hard.

“I never refused.”

At that moment, a weight dropped into Primien’s chest—when Deculein pulled a list from his coat.

"The man claimed that there were five thousand Scarletborn on it."

Tap—

Deculein tossed the list to the ground, and it landed with a muted splash, its thick cover darkening as the filth of the sewer tunnel soaked in.

“And here, he said, is the map of the desert.”

Swish—

This time, Deculein tossed down a map, and as Primien leaned closer to it, she saw an early blueprint of the underground desert, with its structure and every hidden entrance exposed in full.

... That vile traitor, Lumenil,

Primien thought, her fingers curling into a tight fist.

“And why... are you showing this to me?” Primien asked, her expression calm—but her trembling eyes and lips told another story.

"Primien, whether you're one of the Scarletborn is something I may choose to believe—or disregard entirely."

However, there was something strange about the Professor’s words.

"I might have known you were one of the Scarletborn from the start, or I might not have until now."

Thud—

Thud—

"Primien, the Scarletborn are of no concern to me. Slaughtering a handful of vermin crawling under the desert does nothing for the continent," Deculein continued, resting his staff on her shoulder.

Primien slowly raised her eyes to meet Deculein’s—eyes the color of midnight sapphire, glowing brighter the deeper the darkness around them.

"In truth, I have no desire to see the Scarletborn driven to extermination, either," Deculein concluded, a faint smile touching his lips.

“... Politics.”

At that moment, understanding dawned in Primien's eyes.

“Was politics the reason for all of it?”

The meaning behind all the moments she hadn’t known how to name—Deculein’s ambiguous words and unfinished thoughts—carried more weight than she had allowed herself to acknowledge.

"If the Scarletborn were to be entirely exterminated, you'd lose your most convenient and greatest pretext—no more adversaries to silence through them, no further ground to consolidate your position. To you, Professor, the Scarletborn are a necessary evil... a tool that must remain."

Deculein offered no answer—neither agreement nor denial, only silence.

However, at that moment, from somewhere deep in her chest, a wave of dread washed over her—and goosebumps swept down her arms before she could stop them.

“Is that what you’ve been after all this time?”

Had Deculein seen it all coming from the very beginning? From the moment the Scarletborn were marked for extermination, had he already imagined the Empire falling into his hands? No, had he written the course of history to bring it about?

Primien thought.

"Your intellect is truly something else."

"The list and the map—I leave them to you," Deculein said, brushing past her question as he gestured to the papers scattered across the ground. "Primien, the choice is yours."

Primien stared in silence at the two items on the ground, the weight of her next choice pressing on her, but no—there was nothing left to consider, for it had already been decided.

Crackle—!

Primien set the desert map aflame; however, the list had already been printed—replicated through her attribute,

Printer

.

"... Here is the list," Primien said, tucking the original into her coat before handing the copy back to Deculein. "The contents are blank."

Worse had always been preferable to the worst, but right now, Deculein wasn’t just the second-best choice—he was the only choice left worth taking and holding onto.

"Whatever names end up written on that list now will be entirely up to you, Professor."

"Primien, as I expected, your prudence doesn't disappoint," Deculein replied, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile as he accepted the list.

"Yes, Professor. I'll be taking my leave, then."

Now, Primien's role had come to an end. With the truth behind Deculein understood, there was no reason left to stay. The Empire was no longer hers to remain in—it was time to leave it behind.

"You're not going anywhere," Deculein said, stopping Primien in her tracks.

Primien looked back at Deculein in silence.

As expected, he never meant to let me walk away peacefully,

Primien thought.

Mistaken, Primien began priming her mana.

“You’re still the deputy director of the Ministry of Public Safety,” Deculein said, the corner of his mouth curling faintly.

Primien fell silent, unsure of what Deculein meant.

"Furthermore, I will need you at the Voice. You're coming with me."

Deculein’s invitation to follow him brought a brief silence to Primien’s thoughts.

***

... Meanwhile, Hadecaine’s mansion was crowded with adventurers, all gathered for one reason—to take part in Deculein’s test.

“When are we starting already?!”

However, even Ria’s nerves were wearing thin after nearly a week of waiting—after all, for adventurers, time was money.

“If you’re not going to start, then at least give me my identification card back!” Ria shouted, banging on the iron gates of the Hadecaine mansion.

Even a few of the adventurers sided with Ria.

"

Aww

, how adorable. Even when she's angry, Ria is still the cutest thing ever."

As Ganesha murmured to herself, charmed warmly by the sight of Ria pouting...

Craaaaank—

At last, the iron gates of the Hadecaine mansion creaked open, and with her arms crossed tightly and one hip jutting out, Ria puffed her cheeks out in frustration. Beyond the gates, the elderly butler offered a deep bow to the crowd of hundreds of adventurers waiting at the threshold.

"My sincerest apologies for the delay. You are most welcome—please, come inside. The test will begin shortly, but first, dinner is being prepared—"

"

Oh

, seriously?! Dinner first?! Can't we just get on with it already?!"

The adventurers raised their voices in protest, but as soon as the next words were spoken, the noise died at once.

"The master himself will be in attendance. I must ask for just a bit more of your patience," replied the butler.

The entire area had fallen ominously silent.

Well, nothing will start without Professor Deculein’s permission,

the adventurers thought.

“

Ahem

—!

Ahem

—!”

The adventurers gave a few disgruntled huffs, but with no real complaints, they stepped into the mansion.