Chapter 219: Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer (3)

Adus was a city in the western region that was closest to the border to the south. Its specialty was very high-quality apples, and there was a famous cafe there that sold all kinds of apple-based desserts. As always, the cafe bustled with people.

Most of the customers sitting at the many tables were women, or a group of men and women. Only one table had two men facing each other: Keter, and Hans, the general store owner from Gurude. This was the meeting arranged by the Imperial Special Task Force and the Syndicate.

Ivan, who suspected Keter of being a regressor, commanded countless avatars, many of them young and handsome. Yet he had deliberately sent Hans from Gurude to meet him.

If your expression changes even slightly when you see me, then you’re a regressor!

Ivan glared at Keter intensely.

“

Slurp

,” Keter drained his dried apple tea in one go. “Mmm. A gentle acidity, and fresh sweetness. As expected of Adus apples.”

Then, without hesitation, he reached out for the dried-apple tea in front of Hans and drank that as well.

“...?”

Hans was dumbfounded. Never mind that Keter showed no reaction at seeing him. Why was he drinking someone else’s tea?

“Keter El Sefira. We’ve met before, have we not?” Hans finally spoke, deciding glaring alone would not unsettle him.

Keter immediately replied, “Bring out your true self.”

“...?”

“I don’t talk with avatars.”

“...!”

Ivan, who was controlling Hans, couldn’t believe it. His eyes widened.

He recognized it was an avatar the moment he saw me?

Ivan’s avatars were avatars, but they had human characteristics: they bled, wept, ate, and defecated like real people. Only their decision-making was bound to Ivan’s will. Yet somehow Keter had known at once.

“How did you know I was an avatar?”

In that question, Hans was implying that Keter only knew because he was a regressor. To that, Keter raised his hand. Hans, tense at his every move, stiffened in nervousness, but...

“Do you require something, sir?”

𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

“One of everything on the menu.”

“Understood.”

He had simply called the waiter. Then calmly began ordering food.

“...”

Ivan realized that Keter was testing his patience.

Let’s see if you can keep that composure no matter what I do.

Before coming here, Ivan had gathered information on Keter. Everything pointed to him being a regressor.

“Keter, I heard you’re from Absinthe. You joined Sefira less than half a year ago, and in that short time, you’ve accomplished much. You rooted out internal strife, unified the family, and even won the Sword of the South Tournament. It’s no exaggeration to say Sefira’s current standing is all thanks to you.”

“It’s not an exaggeration; it’s a fact. It’s all thanks to me.”

“A bastard from Absinthe, that garbage city... Someone like you had great talent in archery and also showcased an archery technique the world has never seen before? And yet, why was someone like you unknown in Absinthe? How does a commoner turned noble adapt so quickly? It’s success after success... almost as if you already knew the future.”

Hans’s eyes narrowed. If Keter so much as flinched, it would confirm he was a regressor. But Keter only smirked—not a smile to mask discomfort, but one laced with clear intent.

Is he laughing at me?

Keter was indeed laughing at Hans.

Why is he laughing at me?

Ivan was going to argue if Keter gave a reason, but Keter said nothing; Keter just stared at him like he was a fool.

When Keter still refused to speak, Ivan’s patience finally snapped.

“Moreover, this meeting was arranged by none other than the Special Task Force... How could a bastard of Sefira forge ties with them? Even Sefira’s patriarch couldn’t manage such a thing.”

“Ha...”

Keter shook his head and let out a long sigh.

Hans showed no change in emotion, but Ivan, who was controlling him, was bleeding bloody tears of fury. Never before had he been treated like a fool. The rage boiling in him was almost unbearable. Yet Keter made no move, no threats. His behavior was the opposite of the reports Ivan had gathered.

They said he was a thug. I heard he caused trouble at the Sword of the South Tournament, clashed with nobles, and was arrogant and violent. But today, why is he so calm and composed?

This version of Keter was nothing like expected, and for a moment, Ivan faltered, not knowing what to do.

Then the food Keter had ordered arrived, and he casually ignored Hans to eat through the apple dishes one by one.

“...”

Watching Keter devour the food alone, Hans struck with what he thought was a decisive blow.

“I know it was you who tested us in Gurude with that pawn. And do you know why? Because you’re a regressor. Isn’t that right, Keter?”

* * *

Regression and regressors weren’t common topics to be discussed. Someone hearing them for the first time wouldn’t know what it meant. But to a regressor themselves, the very mention would be enough to make them flinch. It was a secret so grave that even their family must never know.

If someone truly had nothing to do with regression, their first response would be to ask what it meant, yet Keter did no such thing. He neither looked startled nor asked for clarification. He ignored it. Completely ignored it, and focused only on his food.

“...”

Hans silently glared at Keter, as he judged that Keter’s behavior must be a ploy to mask his unease. Thus unfolded a bizarre sight: an elderly man staring wordlessly at a much younger man as he ate his meal. It lasted for five whole minutes.

At last, Keter finished eating, wiped his mouth, and rose from his seat. Hans’ gaze followed him up, already preparing spells in his mind in case Keter tried to escape.

“The Syndicate... is not quite what I imagined.”

Keter then began walking away. Hans just stared at him blankly.

Is he running away? But he’s too slow and relaxed to be running away.

“Wait! Who said you could...!” shouted Hans, just before Keter left the cafe.

But then...

Thump

.

...a passing waiter pressed down on Hans’ shoulder, forcing him back into his chair.

“...?!”

Pinned down by a mere waiter, Hans glared at him...

“It’s on the house.”

The waiter smiled and set another cup of dried-apple tea on the table.

“...You...”

Dried apple slices floated in the tea. Upon closer inspection, Hans could see that they formed letters.

—Your role here is finished. Return.

The words dissolved as soon as Hans read them. His fists trembled.

The Special Task Force was watching?!

He had been so focused on the regressor that he forgot this meeting had been arranged by the Special Task Force. This was not just between Keter and the Syndicate; it was a meeting with them as well. Ivan, hailed as a genius among geniuses, realized what had just happened to him, and to Keter.

I was outplayed...!

Keter had not come here as a regressor; he had come as a noble of Sefira and the Bow of the South, under the protection of the Special Task Force. Ivan had come as the representative of the Syndicate, so what Keter had said first—refusing to speak with avatars—was incredibly normal.

Keter wasn’t trying to provoke Ivan. It was nothing but business—a perfectly reasonable request.

In turn, Ivan should have asked for Keter’s understanding rather than leaping into accusations of him being the regressor. He should have explained that his true self was unable to attend. He should have continued the conversation professionally and carefully probed him about being a regressor. Instead, blinded by obsession with the regressor, he pressed the issue personally and emotionally.

This was not a good look for him to the Special Task Force and even the Syndicate. Even worse, he had given Keter all the justification he needed. If Keter walked away now, it would look like Ivan’s fault alone.

Keter, you... You’re sly!

Ivan had no choice but to admit it. This wasn’t because he was a fool; it was because Keter was operating on another level.

But you won’t just leave it here, will you, Keter? You’ll come back. You need this more than I do.

Ivan believed this was all Keter’s plan. After all, Keter had been the one to request contact. He was the thirsty one digging for a well; if ties with the Syndicate broke here, it would be Keter who suffered.

But...

Hans suddenly leaped to his feet, five seconds after convincing himself otherwise.

No... he really will leave. He’s the kind of man who would.

Keter could not be predicted. He must not be predicted. Ivan realized that too late.

“Sit down, Ivan.”

A man appeared, addressing him by his real name, and sat across from him. Both Hans' and Ivan’s faces twisted in unison.

“Mario. Why are you here...!”

Mario had an iconic straight moustache. He was a fellow Syndicate member, and the one Ivan despised most.

“Killian is smart, so he knew you would make a mess of this. So he had me watch, and, as expected, you did.”

“This isn’t a mess. It happened because Keter is a regressor.”

“Hah, my friend... no one knows better than I do how serious you are about regressors. And yes, I know there are circumstances that make Keter look suspicious.”

“So you understand me?”

“I do. I understand you’re desperate. You’ve got, what, seven years left at best?”

“...!”

“Anyone would be. Seven years of life left... At least your life wouldn't have been wasted if you had died fighting. But just to die from sickness? I’d be furious too.”

Mario shook his head as if in sympathy, even dabbing at imaginary tears.

“But my friend, Keter is not a regressor,” he said with a serious expression, as if he hadn’t been pretending to cry just the second before. “Let’s say Keter is one. We don’t know how many years of experience he carried from a past life, so let’s assume at least ten. Any less, and regression wouldn’t be much of an advantage. So Ivan, if you regressed, what would you do first, assuming your body wasn’t an issue?”

“...There are too many possibilities. I couldn’t choose just one.”

“If it were me, I would make money using future knowledge to get rich. I wouldn’t just make tens of millions of gold, I would make hundreds of millions of gold and become the richest man in the continent overnight,” Mario said, then pointed toward the direction Keter had gone. “You’ve investigated him, too. How does his record look? Has he done anything only a regressor could do?”

“Sefira’s rise, growing stronger day by day...”

“My friend, anyone who is capable could manage that. Being named the representative knight of the South? That doesn’t prove foreknowledge. It proves talent, nothing more.”

“A bastard from the Lawless City of Absinthe couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Keter isn’t from Absinthe. That was a lie. He’s actually from Liqueur.”

“W-what?!”

Hans staggered as if someone had stabbed him in the back. Everything made sense if he was from Liqueur, not Absinthe. He didn’t know how Keter had left Liqueur, but if he was from Liqueur, then that impossible strength and arrogance weren’t so incomprehensible.

“How do you know that? That Keter is from Liqueur?” Hans asked.

“Killian. He said the Special Task Force told him.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“What would you have done with it? It has nothing to do with the negotiations.”

In truth, the Special Task Force had revealed Keter’s origin as a warning. A Liqueurian who had left Liqueur naturally had ties to the Godfather. This was enough reason not to act recklessly with force.

“...”

Hans fell silent, genuinely troubled that he might have been mistaken.

Damn Mario.

The reason Ivan hated Mario was simple: Mario always spoke the truth. He never cared about Ivan’s feelings. And worst of all, he was always right. Every word he had ever said was correct. That was what Ivan despised most: being forced to admit he was the one mistaken. And this time would be no different. Mario was not wrong.

Has Keter ever acted like a regressor?

Even Ivan knew the answer. Keter had not. There was no reason a regressor would choose to live as a bastard of the weakest noble family when he could have founded his own and raised it to a master family. He could have acquired immense wealth with ease, even just by stockpiling resources ahead of time.

Keter also didn’t seem like a regressor in terms of strength. Of course, he was strong, but had he shown power that was extraordinary? Not quite. Keter was eighteen. His estimated power level was at the edge of a five-star Master, or barely into a six-star Grandmaster.

When I was eighteen, I had just entered the seven-circle realm.

It was hardly the level expected of a regressor. If Ivan himself had been a regressor, by eighteen, he would’ve been at least an eight-star Irregular.

Was I wrong again...

Hans lowered his head. It seemed the Orphe’s Mask incident really had been nothing more than his magic malfunctioning, and Keter’s request for a meeting nothing more than a coincidence. His credibility within the Syndicate would plummet.

“There’s no need to worry. Keter hasn’t left. I’ve arranged to speak with him again. Killian’s very interested in him. After all, being endorsed by the Special Task Force without being a regressor, escaping from Liqueur—that is intriguing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. So, why don’t you step aside now? I need to speak with Keter myself.”

Mario politely asked him to leave, and he had no choice but to comply. It was a reasonable request, like Keter. Ivan, who had acted unreasonably in his obsession with regressors, had only made himself look the fool. Even to himself, he felt pathetic.

Hans turned to leave without a word, but then, someone put their hand on his shoulder. His expression twisted with irritation from being grabbed by the shoulder twice in a single day,

“Where are you going?”

It was none other than Keter.

“Keter...?”

“Sit.”

Pressing Hans back into his seat, Keter now turned his eyes on Mario.

“You. That’s my seat.”

“Mr. Keter, did you not agree to speak with me?” Mario asked.

Keter shrugged.

“I changed my mind.”

“Heh... heh-heh...”

Hans, unable to predict him at all, could only laugh bitterly.