How much time had passed since Whitney mentioned his daughter to Bergen, who had come to him as planned?
"It seems you know me quite well."
Pinned down by Runiel, Bergen had been gritting his teeth in silence for a long time before he finally spoke in a chilling voice.
"I did some investigating before coming here, Hero."
"Oh, is that so? Then why don't you share what you've learned?"
Whitney's lips curled into an amused smile as he stepped closer, prompting Runiel to press down harder on Bergen's head with his foot.
"A count's heir who failed to stand out—whether at the academy, in high society, or even as a white mage."
"Then one day, this ordinary man made contact with the empire's sole princess and, overnight, became a renowned hero."
Even as he clenched his teeth and glared at Whitney, Bergen smoothly continued listing information about him.
"Is that all?"
"Well, I do know that the reason you failed to stand out was because your mother died early, and your father's affection was entirely devoted to your younger sister."
Whitney's expression had initially shown slight disappointment, but at Bergen's overtly mocking remark, his eyes narrowed sharply.
"Oh, and I also know that your family's finances are on the brink of collapse."
"Hmm…"
"I don't know what kind of deal you made with that infamous princess, but at least you're able to barely cover the wages of the servants, which have been cut by more than half in the past few years."
Bergen continued his provocations as if he had expected Whitney's reaction. However, when Whitney, now standing directly before him, showed no response, a hint of irritation seeped into his voice.
"…What, do you need me to throw in some useless information, like how your hobby is origami, to make this interesting?"
"Oh-ho."
"Hah, I thought that was nonsense, but it turns out to be true."
At that, Whitney, now appearing satisfied, nodded approvingly and bent down, whispering as if offering praise.
"You've lived such a quiet life that I had my doubts, but your information-gathering skills are truly remarkable."
"On the other hand, your side's intelligence is utterly pathetic."
Contrary to the saying that compliments make even whales dance, Bergen only sneered with increasing hostility, radiating a menacing aura.
"My daughter has been dead for years."
His voice, heavy with sorrow, spilled out like a painful groan.
"Along with my beloved wife. They were taken from me in an instant in a carriage accident."
"..."
"If you were hoping to manipulate me with some misinformation you picked up somewhere, you're gravely mistaken."
A heavy silence fell over the office at his words.
"Bergen."
But amidst that atmosphere, Whitney alone tilted his head slightly and whispered into Bergen's ear.
"At the scene of the incident, your daughter's body was never found, was it?"
For the first time since the confrontation began, Bergen's eyes wavered ever so slightly.
"Isn't that precisely why you're here? Because you found that detail suspicious?"
"…I take back what I said earlier."
Grinding his teeth, Bergen forced himself to regain his composure and fixed Whitney with a sharp glare.
"But that doesn't change anything. Because…"
"Because at the scene, there were her tattered clothes and a pool of blood?"
Before he could finish his sentence, Whitney cut in, forcing him to fall silent once more.
"Yes, at a glance, it could seem like she was attacked by a wild beast."
"..."
"But if that were the case, then why was your wife's body completely intact?"
As Whitney continued speaking, Bergen's expression grew increasingly grim.
"If you think about it for even a moment, the whole thing reeks of suspicion."
"…Shut up."
His face twisted in fury, and he spat out a curse as though on the verge of exploding. The veins on Runiel's hand bulged as he tightened his grip on the sword pointed at Bergen's throat.
"It's fine, Runiel."
"…Be careful."
At Whitney's silent gesture, Runiel muttered lowly before loosening her grip and returning to a guarded stance.
"You think I didn't investigate?"
Meanwhile, a thin line of blood trickled from the shallow cut on Bergen's neck, where the blade had grazed him.
"I dug into every suspicious organization in the empire. Even the emperor's secret unit, notorious for its shady dealings—I risked my life to uncover their secrets."
But Bergen, heedless of the wound, spoke in a voice laced with resentment, his eyes burning with anger as he glared at Whitney.
"But. But no matter how much I searched—no matter how desperately I combed through every lead—"
As time passed, his gaze, once sharp with fury, began to blur.
"There wasn't a single trace of my daughter anywhere."
By the time he finished speaking, his eyes held nothing but emptiness.
"…Bergen."
Watching him quietly, Whitney called his name in a low, gentle voice.
"What if I told you that I know where your daughter is?"
"…Ha."
"And what if I told you that I am willing to help you find her, in every way possible?"
At those words, Bergen's eyes, which had lost focus, suddenly snapped back to reality. Letting out a hollow laugh, he looked at the boy standing before him.
"…Then, would you be willing to work for me?"
Bathed in the dim moonlight streaming through the window, Whitney's presence—coupled with his striking appearance—exuded an indescribable aura.
"That sounds… like the whisper of a devil."
"…Hah."
Bergen murmured absentmindedly at the sight, and beside him, Runiel, who had unconsciously nodded in agreement, sucked in a sharp breath and turned to gauge Whitney's reaction.
"But I don't believe in Gods or Demons"
Bergen closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, his voice laced with cynicism.
"I only believe in clear, undeniable proof that I can see with my own eyes."
"Aha."
"Fine. If you can present such proof…"
However, anyone perceptive enough would have noticed that, despite the seemingly firm tone in his voice, there was a faint tremor.
"…I'll work like a dog under you for the rest of my life."
Despite having rotted away in despair for years, this was proof that he had never truly let go of the last thread of hope.
"You'll have to keep that promise."
Noting this, Whitney smirked and gave an order to Parsha.
"Parsha, bring the guest in."
"…Yes!"
"Oh, I had my doubts, but you understood right away."
At his words, Parsha sprang to her feet as if she had been waiting and dashed outside, leaving behind a tense silence in the office.
'Calm down. I must not waver.'
Ignoring the sharp pain of his pounding heart, Bergen steeled himself.
He knew better than anyone that a person is most susceptible to deception when pushed to the edge.
Creak…
That was why, even if his daughter were to walk through that door alive, he swore he would not let go of his doubt.
Clenching his teeth, he cast a cold glare at the slowly opening door—
"You even removed your disguise without being asked. How considerate."
"…What?"
"Well, that makes things easier."
His determination instantly crumbled. His mouth fell open, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"If you investigated me, then you must know the event that made me a hero."
"That person… No way…"
"Yes, it's exactly who you're thinking of."
The person who walked in with Parsha far exceeded his expectations.
"Allow me to introduce Lady Hestia, the Saint, who is currently staying at our estate for certain reasons."
...
"Oh, you understand that this must remain our secret, right?"
For a fleeting moment, Bergen wondered if they had merely dressed up a maid as the Saint.
But as a master of disguise himself—a renowned thief who had operated across the continent—his trained eyes dismissed that notion immediately.
"…So what? What does the Saint have to do with anything?"
He managed to regain his senses and questioned Whitney.
"I asked you to present proof that my daughter is alive—"
"The Saint will now provide that proof."
Before he could finish, Whitney cut him off, gently pulling Hestia forward.
"It is a Saint's sacred duty to guide the lost."
"Isn't that right, Lady Saint?"
Hestia blinked a few times before hesitantly nodding, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.
"Y-yes, leave it to me."
"A…"
For the first time, Bergen could feel hope—something that had seemed impossibly distant—coming within his grasp.
*****
"P-please, hold out your hand."
Hestia, who had been watching the visibly shaken Bergen with nervous eyes, finally spoke.
"My hand…?"
"In order for the Saint to read a soul, physical contact is required."
Seeing Bergen's puzzled expression, I explained in place of the still-frozen Hestia, discreetly nudging her in the side.
"There is no stronger bond than that of blood relations."
At last, Hestia snapped back to reality, reciting the lines she had practiced with me for the past few days.
"A-and the connection of the soul is no exception."
"..."
"Through your soul, I will now attempt to… uhm… c-contact your daughter's soul."
Though she had memorized the words perfectly, there was no salvaging her abysmal acting skills.
"You're not trying to scam me using a Saint, are you?"
"Haha, Bergen. Do you really think that's possible?"
Predictably, doubt flickered in Bergen's eyes once more, so I quickly intervened to defend our case.
"In a world where even low-ranking Holy Knights face divine retribution for telling lies, do you believe a Saint would dare utter falsehoods about such a matter?"
"…!?"
Fortunately, Bergen seemed convinced, as he gave a slow nod.
However, beside me, Hestia's pupils shook as though an earthquake had struck.
"T-that wasn't part of the plan…!"
"It's fine. This is all to help this poor man find his daughter."
She hurriedly whispered in my ear with a panicked voice, and I lowered mine to reassure her.
"If you think about it, it's just a little white lie, isn't it?"
"B-but divine punishment—"
"Well, since our intentions are good, I'm sure the gods will understand."
It sounded like I was just brushing things off, but the truth was, the plan I had instilled in the Saint contained not a single lie.
Besides, Hestia had not yet fully received the gods' blessing, so divine punishment was out of the question.
"Now… close your eyes and try to picture your daughter's face…"
"And then?"
"Uh, um, hold on."
Despite being drenched in cold sweat, Hestia continued her lines while holding Bergen's hand.
However, when he pressed her for more details, she hesitantly turned her gaze toward me.
"N-Now what do I do?"
"Just do exactly as we practiced. Exactly as we practiced…"
"A-Are you absolutely sure I won't be struck down by divine punishment…?"
"When this is over, I'll mix you a whole round of bomb shots, so please, just focus—"
I was in the middle of coaxing her, treating her much like I did with Sasha, when suddenly—
Crackle…!
A spark of light erupted from where Hestia's hand was clasped with Bergen's.
Hiss…
Immediately after, wisps of gray smoke—eerily similar to my own suspicious white magic—began rising from their joined hands.
"Saint? What are you doing…?"
"I-I have no idea…!"
Since this phenomenon was not part of our prearranged act, I turned to Hestia with a bewildered expression.
However, she looked just as panicked.
"Wait, am I actually being punished by the gods—? Mmph!"
"Lady Saint, let's calm down and start by letting go of his hand—"
I barely managed to cut her off before she finished her sentence, trying to separate her from Bergen.
—Subject No. 347. This one shows promising signs.
At that moment, a chilling voice echoed from within the smoke, and black-and-white figures began to take shape in the air.
—Further experimentation is required. Clear your schedule.
As Bergen stared up at the eerie phenomenon in a daze, his eyes soon widened in shock.
—Dad…
A girl, bound in chains with a dark magic brand scorched into her skin, emerged within the mist.
—I miss you…
Tears streamed down her cheeks as her fading voice murmured the words.
"Lilly!!!"
Bergen, who had been pinned to the floor, suddenly surged with superhuman strength, shaking off Runiel's restraint as he reached out toward the vision of his daughter.
"A…"
But the moment his fingers brushed against the girl's form, the image dissolved into thin air.
"No…"
He swiped at the dissipating smoke in vain before collapsing to his knees, staring blankly ahead.
"…N-No way."
As silence engulfed the office, Hestia gawked at me with terrified eyes before stammering a question.
"Was… was this part of your plan too?"
I could only stare at her, too stunned to answer.
'This is impossible.'
It was only then that I noticed her pupils flickering with a faint, eerie white light.
'…She hasn't even met the Hero yet, and she's already activating the Saint's power?'
I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or concerned about this unexpected development, but—
"Uh… um, Bergen?"
For now, at least, it seemed I hadn't lost anything from this situation.
"Do you believe me now? Haha…"
Runiel's gaze toward me had deepened with reverence, which was fine, but Bergen and Hestia had both gone even paler than before.
°°°°°°°°
Meanwhile, at that same moment—
Clench…
Parsha, who was staring at the fading mist with an unusually serious expression, unconsciously pressed a hand against the base of her neck and lowered her gaze.
"…There are more people like me."
She murmured in a quiet voice.
Beneath the collar of her butler uniform, an identical brand—matching the one that had been carved into the girl in the vision—glowed darkly.