“My dear, you actually love having your forehead rubbed like this, don’t you?”
“Ina, how do you always see through my preferences?”
“It’s the intuition of people in love!”
…
The playful, gentle words still seemed to echo in his ears.
Alama pulled himself from the fleeting memory. Before him was Inanna teasing the Puchi in her arms.
For a moment, the way his daughter tilted her head and smiled while petting the Puchi overlapped with his late wife’s image.
But besides being moved, he mostly felt irritation toward that Puchi.
He didn’t even dare imagine—if his wife came back to life and saw what he had let their only daughter become, what would she think…
When he first heard Inanna was missing, Alama panicked, thinking demons had found a chance to strike.
Actually, that wasn’t wrong. After the war, demons had sent two batches of assassins targeting Inanna, becoming premium D-class personnel for the mushroom garden.
Using the mark connection, Alama immediately tried locating her. Bad luck at first—he got a broken crystal showing north. The second crystal correctly pointed south, at the Puchi dungeon.
But on his rushed way to Mushroom Capital, he received news midway that Inanna was safe.
He didn’t turn back. He wanted to see his daughter.
Unexpectedly, upon meeting, Inanna first proposed wanting to visit the dwarven mountains to talk with them.
Alama guessed this was probably the Mushroom Tribe’s wish—likely wanting contact with dwarves?
It wasn’t unacceptable. Moreover, the kingdom currently planned to deepen cooperation with dwarves and elves to re-solidify alliances. Inanna could simply join the envoy.
But…
Seeing Inanna continue petting the Puchi even while talking to him, Alama pondered, then slowly asked, “You stayed in the dungeon over ten days… any gains?”
“Look! I made a new friend!” Inanna proudly held up the already-resigned Sword Saint Puchi.
“That’s good. It’s just…” Alama chose his words carefully. “You know your status is more important now. Countless eyes—friendly and hostile—are on you. Acting alone like this always worries me. If you had more reliable protection… like a trustworthy person always by your side, I’d feel much more at ease.”
He paused, tone gentler. “Among the young people you usually interact with, is there anyone particularly reliable who could take that role?”
“Yes!” Inanna answered without thinking. “No. 4, No. 10, and No. 14—they’re super strong! With them, I’d go anywhere!”
Actually, she wanted to say “with the Boss, nothing to worry about,” but Lin Jun forbade it.
No. 4 immediately jumped onto the table. “Exactly! Anyone who wants to hurt her has to step over my corpse first!”
Alama was silent for a moment.
“I mean… human,” he rephrased carefully. “For example, your former adjutant Warren. He’s steady and very devoted to you. If someone reliable like that accompanied you…”
“Warren is reliable, but isn’t he busy training the Puchi master legion?” Inanna tapped her chin. “If someone has to accompany me… how about Aidin? His illusions are amazing!”
Inanna figured her father wanted to assign her a bodyguard. Rather than an unfamiliar person he picked, better Aidin—both a mushroom garden member and someone she had cooperated with before.
“Aidin?”
Alama finally recalled a report Eric had submitted long ago about Inanna’s situation that mentioned the name.
Fallen noble, diamond-tier illusionist.
But that wasn’t important.
The important thing—if he remembered correctly—this guy was over forty, only a few years younger than himself!
“No… younger candidates?” Alama tried to keep his voice calm.
“Aidin’s great,” Inanna blinked innocently, completely missing the subtext. “Don’t worry, Father. Aidin’s stamina can definitely keep up!”
She meant stamina for long-distance travel, of course.
*Crack—*
The solid wood armrest creaked under Alama’s unconscious grip.
…
Aidin had been ready to properly test his large-scale illusion device in the far north when he suddenly assigned to accompany the envoy to the dwarven mountains.
A one-to-two-month business trip left him quite depressed.
Fortunately, the Boss promised dedicated resources for his illusion experiments upon return, easing most of his gloom.
Wage slaves—sudden business trips were inevitable.
But one thing puzzled him.
Why did Duke Alama, upon first meeting, smile politely on the surface yet seem to harbor a malice in his eyes that wanted to devour him alive?
He had been perfectly polite, courteous, and handsome… where had he offended the duke?
Alama’s tiger-like stare gave Aidin immense psychological pressure.
Only a week later, when the kingdom’s professional negotiation team and escort assembled and the party set off, did the now-visibly-thinner Aidin finally breathe freely.
The group would pass through Scarecrow Abyss, negotiating future cooperation with elves then dwarves.
Since the dwarven mountains weren’t under the fungal mat, the Sword Saint Puchi would escort the whole way, only leaving on the return trip to explore Scarecrow Abyss again.
Protecting his great-niece while traveling a bit farther? The Sword Saint naturally had no objections.
Only pity—looking over the entire party, no suitable sparring partners.
…
“Lord Duke.” After Inanna left, Farr approached Alama, who was also about to depart.
He came to ask about handling the “Mushroom Worship Cult.”
He had mentioned it the day Alama arrived.
In later exchanges with the Mushroom Tribe members, Alama had subtly probed.
Yet the Mushroom Tribe seemed completely unaware, as if it had nothing to do with them.
But… even if they didn’t know now didn’t mean they wouldn’t later.
Letting Puchi worship spread freely was unacceptable, but directly labeling it heresy and exterminating it—even if truly unrelated to the Mushroom Tribe—could still damage relations.
The kingdom currently couldn’t survive without Puchis. Cold reality.
“Arrest the main members, but don’t trial or mistreat them. Focus on restricting spread.”
“If it turns out related to the Hand of Passage…?”
“Then kill them!”
Not all cults were equal. The Hand of Passage was clearly the worst kind!
(End of Chapter)
