Chapter 288: A Group of Three Having Four Conversations Is Perfectly Normal, Right?

"Herbert! Do you have any idea at all what you've done!?"

Even though she had already been forced to leave the Third Commandment with Herbert, Elisa kept complaining nonstop.

The vampire Young Lady trailing behind Herbert had eyes only for him—no rule said what filled those eyes had to be love.

Anger worked just as well.

Elisa glared furiously at the back of Herbert's head, grinding her teeth so hard they itched, wishing she could just sink her fangs straight into his neck.

"How—how could you do something so outrageous?"

Too much, really far too much!

Herbert, meanwhile, was perfectly calm, ignoring her glare entirely.

Herbert tilted his head, cast a sidelong glance at the thoroughly indignant vampire, smiled in amusement, then contentedly turned his head back.

Yes, yes, yes—I just love seeing you all worked up like that.

In the tone of "an adult who, during New Year, lets a bratty kid yank open someone else's figure display cabinet," he said casually: "What's the rush? It's just a toy, isn't it?"

"At worst, I'll buy you a new one to replace it later."

As expected, Herbert's words made Elisa's blood surge—her blood pressure skyrocketing.

"You!!?"

The vampire Young Lady even felt a few blood vessels on her forehead burst in that very instant!

But just as Elisa was about to throw all caution to the wind and pick a fight, she suddenly glanced warily and apprehensively at the hooded figure on Herbert's other side.

"……Hmph."

Elisa was not the only bodyguard Herbert had brought along on this outing.

On Herbert's other side was a second bodyguard, competing with Elisa for the post.

It was a mysterious figure who had every inch of their body tightly concealed within a broad hood; the shadow of the hood hid their face so deeply that not the slightest feature could be made out.

The long robe they wore, whose fabric looked extraordinarily fine, swayed gently in the breeze, faintly shimmering with a strange sheen, its dark patterns appearing and disappearing in the light like some sort of special symbols.

Though the face could not be seen, the figure's posture was elegant, and every gesture carried an indescribable air, like a noble long accustomed to high station.

Elisa did not know the other's true identity; Herbert had only briefly given her the name "Vilanmeia," along with the information that they were of legendary power.

But proud as Elisa was by nature, she did not look down on the other.

Because she had detected a rather ominous aura from this person.

"Vilanmeia" seemed to possess quite abundant vitality, yet between the scents there lingered a whiff of deathly stillness that made one want to retch.

The smell was exactly like that of a living dead.

Elisa didn't need to try to know that this fellow's blood would be terribly hard to drink!

Could it be that this was actually a legendary lich? Or perhaps a necromancer who had already half-turned undead?

Whatever the other's true identity, for Elisa they were a somewhat thorny, not-so-easy opponent.

Because the affinity between vampires and necromantic casters was simply terrible—one careless slip and it was easy to be schemed against by the other.

So, Elisa chickened out……no, the noble vampire Young Lady temporarily let that impudent boy off the hook.

Yes, that's exactly how it was.

So she closed her mouth, touched the silver-white chain at her neck, and quietly followed behind Herbert.

"……Hmph!"

Still, at this moment Elisa looked utterly furious, teeth clenched hard, as if she had suffered a great grievance.

But in truth, beneath the surface she was actually struggling hard not to laugh out loud.

Pfft—hahaha!

Herbert, you really are such a naive child!

Because things really did develop exactly as Svani had predicted!

Herbert really did discover the "figure," and then stopped searching any further!

Svani really is a marvel at foreseeing events!

She even guessed this!

Elisa carefully watched Herbert's side for any reaction while secretly communicating with the other "tiny Svani" hidden inside her chest clothing.

"Svani, Svani! We really did it!"

"Mm."

Svani replied softly, then reminded her: "Alright, don't say too much, they'll notice."

"Oh, oh, okay."

Elisa shot a glance to the side, and upon finding Herbert completely oblivious, gave a smug little hum.

Heh-heh!

Although she herself could not outscheme Herbert, as long as Svani could provide help, then they could beat this

……

……

"……She really didn't notice."

"Mm, she really didn't notice."

And at that very same moment, in that very same space, with even the very same people.

The great villain Herbert, as Elisa believed him to be, was secretly conversing with her trusted comrade Svani.

Herbert was communicating with Svani—who was disguised as Vilanmeia—through the special magical frequency she had given him.

Ah, this might be called cheating right under someone's nose….

"Ahem……mm, just as you said it worked, Elisa really didn't notice."

Svanney nodded slightly and replied with a smile: "Mm, although she seemed to notice something unusual, she didn't think much of it."

Herbert and Svanney's actions were actually meant to test whether this concealment method would work.

Judging by the current results, Eliza was completely unable to tell, and would never associate Svanney with Vilmeya.

It worked.

At least, on their way to Stella's main camp, they wouldn't need to worry about being discovered by the other side.

This was within Svanney's expectations.

As a researcher, she had particular confidence in her own technical achievements.

But there were also things outside her expectations, completely beyond what she had anticipated—Eliza's thoughts.

"Still, I didn't expect that after learning Vilmeya's race, Eliza wouldn't make any connection at all..."

Doesn't Eliza find it strange?

These are two dark elves—wouldn't she suspect there's some connection between them?

Herbert, however, wasn't surprised by this, and calmly explained to her:

"That's perfectly normal. After all, she doesn't know how many dark elves are actually imprisoned in this monastery."

Dark elves aren't an especially rare race; having two in a single prison isn't anything unusual.

Incidentally, among elves they're a particularly peculiar breed, with extraordinarily strong reproductive ability, and they're completely indiscriminate about their partners' race—they'll get involved with anything that moves.

Humanoids go without saying; even species with vastly different body types aren't off the table for them.

Additionally, even other elven branches have fairly large populations, all of which can be considered major races.

Not having many children isn't a problem—as long as they live long enough, they'll always manage to accumulate some population.

And so, the three of them were essentially holding three conversations at the same time:

("Svanney, what do you think Herbert is going to the Underdark to do this time?")

("Probably to carry out a mission for the monastery? Just protect him well and don't worry about the rest.")

("Oh—")

……

("Lord Herbert, shall we use the monastery's teleportation array to head straight for a city near the caverns afterward?")

("Mm, that's my plan. I've already applied for usage clearance in advance. Do you think it works?")

("Understood. That works out perfectly.")

……

"Eliza, are you still unhappy? Want me to tell you a bad joke?"

"... Tch, suit yourself."

"There was a vampire who hadn't eaten in ages, and finally spotted a person. After biting down, he said: 'Oh no, this person is so poor—their blood is anemic.'"

"What are you even talking about?"

……

At the same time, Herbert and Svanney were chatting covertly, Eliza and Svanney were whispering on the sly, and Eliza was also occasionally brushing off Herbert's questions on the surface...

Oh, wait—actually, it's four conversations.

Herbert had one more conversation on his end; he had to split his attention, half-heartedly bickering with the restless Nensha.

【"Heh~ Are you having a great time now? With so many women swarming around you?"】

("Tch, don't bother me right now—can't you see I'm busy? Stop causing trouble!")

【"Hehe."】

Busy, very busy indeed!

Who said three people of mixed genders would have to stage a burning winter?

Can a burning winter combo even compare to this chaos? (Hands on hips)

It's clearly a movie with three people (plus one jester), yet it's gotten far too noisy.

Herbert appeared calm on the surface, but inwardly he was fully focused, terrified of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

The consequences wouldn't be severe, but it would be awfully awkward.

Herbert enjoyed watching others feel awkward, but when it came to himself... he'd rather pass.

Yet just when everyone thought everything was going smoothly and they were about to head to the Underdark, an unexpected development still occurred.

"Lord Herbert! Please wait a moment!"

Faor jogged up to the three of them, raising his hand with an embarrassed expression to block their path.

"I'm sorry, but you can't leave yet..."

Herbert:?

Eliza:!!?

Could it be that things had been exposed?

Although she wasn't sure whether secretly bringing her hidden "Svanney clone" out of the Penitentiary counted as an escape.

But she was certain that sneaking the other's clone out—if discovered—would definitely cause problems.

What should she do?

She swallowed nervously, her gaze darting around, and she hunched slightly to make her carefully concealed bosom less conspicuous.

You won't notice!

While Eliza was worrying about things going wrong, Herbert was also feeling puzzled.

"Mm?"

Only, his focus was elsewhere—huh? Someone actually stopped me inside the monastery?

Oh well, how unusual.

"Fa'ao, what's wrong? What do you need from me?"

"This…"

Herbert noticed Fa'ao's embarrassed expression and raised an eyebrow.

Looks like this might be troublesome.

Fa'ao hesitated, offered no further explanation, and spoke formally: "Lord Herbert, I did not come to find you—it was the Bishop who ordered me to notify you to meet him. He has a special task for you."

Bishop?

Ash Bishop never interacts with monks, and Thorn Bishop is currently brooding underground… So, is it Rust Nail Bishop?

He didn't know why the Knight Captain had specifically stopped him at this moment.

Why must this task be assigned now?

Could it be he doesn't want me to risk myself in the Shadowlands again?

But that doesn't make sense.

When I applied to him before, though he looked constipated, he ultimately gave me silent approval, didn't he?

Could he have changed his mind?

Carrying these questions, Herbert followed Fa'ao, accompanied by Eliza and two demon maid bodyguards, to the Knight Order's training ground.

Before Herbert even stepped inside, he unexpectedly heard a furious argument.

"Huh? Who's fighting?"

Herbert muttered the question to himself, but Fa'ao beside him awkwardly turned his head away.

Why are you embarrassed?

As Herbert puzzled over this, he suddenly made out the words reaching his ears—not a back-and-forth argument, but a single person's fierce accusation.

"Why should we obey his orders?!"

"My lord! I truly don't understand!"

"He's nothing but a vampire who drains the common folk dry—completely untrustworthy!"

"No, I absolutely refuse!"

"My lord! Regarding your orders this time, I must respectfully decline!"

It was the voice of a remarkably young boy, standing boldly against authority, resisting unjust treatment—as if from some dramatic plot.

Herbert blinked, turned to the Vampire Young Lady, and smiled: "Hey, Eliza, he's calling you a vampire, you know~"

Eliza rolled her eyes and sneered: "Hah! He's clearly calling you!"

Who can't tell he's cursing you, you noble brat?

Why are you pretending?

Herbert of course knew the "vampire" in the boy's words referred to himself.

But he couldn't fathom why the boy harbored such intense resentment toward him.

I haven't made enemies with anyone else in the monastery, have I?

…

"My lord, please understand me!"

In the Knight Order's training ground, Cyril was bravely expressing his Own Thoughts to Rust Nail Bishop.

He refused to obey that man's orders.

He would not accept it!

Yet facing Cyril's defiance, Rust Nail Bishop's expression remained unchanged, as cold as ever.

"…"

But he did not stop the boy's disrespectful behavior.

The Mist Monastery was not an evil force, nor a divine church; though monks had hierarchical ranks, they were not required to rigidly enforce these hierarchies among themselves.

As long as they showed basic respect to others in daily life, that was enough.

Around Cyril, besides the training Holy Knights, there were other monks, each watching his performance with different expressions.

Some watched like theater, some worried, some sneered… Cyril didn't care what they thought.

As the son of a blacksmith, Cyril had suffered too long under noble oppression in his hometown—he despised these self-proclaimed nobles.

Normally, he could tolerate avoiding conflict with Herbert, avoiding trouble.

But to be ordered around by him—he simply could not accept it!

"My lord, I believe you understand my Own Thoughts—that he's just a…"

Suddenly, Cyril sensed something was off.

The eyes of those around him held a peculiar, mocking amusement—especially that chatterbox Varro, who grinned widely in silent laughter.

Gulp.

At that moment, Cyril swallowed hard, his body stiffening uncontrollably.

He noticed the varied gazes coming from behind him.

Admiration, indifference, embarrassment, and… amusement.

Eliza looked astonished, nearly clapping for Cyril.

Kid, you're brave—I wouldn't dare curse him like that!

Keep going, I love hearing this!

Svanney remained expressionless, her gaze passing over Cyril and settling on Rust Nail Bishop; beneath her hood, her eyes fixed tightly on the rusted rivets, as if they held some secret.

Fa'ao, as Cyril's friend, lowered his head in shame.

As for the person being harshly berated...

"Why'd you stop? Go on and finish, I'm also a little curious what I look like in everyone's mouths."

Herbert smiled and patted the shoulder of this young cultivator who appeared about the same age as him.

When passing by Cyril, he chuckled lightly: "Also, I'd like to give you a friendly piece of advice — you can listen, or you can ignore it."

"It's best not to gossip about others behind their backs; otherwise, if someone overhears, it can get very awkward… Of course, I don't mind, heh-heh."

After Herbert's palm left his shoulder, Cyril came to his senses and instinctively raised a hand to pat his own shoulder, as if disgusted by Herbert's touch.

"Don't you touch me!"

Herbert heard the somewhat undignified low growl behind him, squinted and smiled, without turning his head.

"Heh-heh."

He walked all the way to the front of the group and bowed in salute to Bishop Rusty Nail, whose expression had been cold the whole time.

Then he asked directly: "Sir, you summoned me here — do you have some instruction?"

Herbert smiled, unhurriedly speaking words that twisted Cyril's expression and cut to the heart.

"Please rest assured, I am different from this fellow countryman of mine — I, ah… am very willing to command him."

(End of this chapter)