Some shocks were hard to bear even when you knew they were coming and had braced yourself—being beaten by someone, for instance, or having a lover tell you it was over.

Much the same was true of the tremendous shock Turan felt when Talis mentioned his name. As he drew a deep breath to steady himself, voices sounded behind him.

"Either he's your grandson or he isn't. What's this ‘probably’ business? Just how much did you sleep around to lose track of that?"

"I get it. What else is there to enjoy in this world? We didn't go through all that shit trying to make condoms for nothing."

"How long ago was that...?"

It was their leader, the House Head—the Lawyer—who raised a hand to silence the Karmine nobles' distracting chatter.

"So, why is this fellow you mentioned outside your control? I hear Zahar collects tracking media in advance from talented children while they're young."

"Oh, right. I've heard that too."

"Then they'll get caught no matter where they run?"

"Wow, you really run a suffocating house. Glad I didn't join your faction."

"Still, it'd make it easy to find someone kidnapped far away. Or farm their corpse."

Ignoring the grumbling, Talis continued his explanation.

"To answer your question, he wasn't born within the house in the first place."

"A bastard?"

"Something like that. During the war twenty years ago, one of my sons got his hands on an Arabion prisoner. Later, he caused trouble, and the prisoner escaped while we were purging him. Apparently she gave birth to the boy afterward."

"Oh, I know this one. Wasn't that genre popular? The heroine gets pregnant and runs away?"

"Sounds more like a heroic epic to me. Avenging his father would give him a nice motive, too."

"A child born to rival houses? That's Romeo and Juliet!"

"Does that make Zahar the Montagues?"

The gods reduced to humans snickered over his parents' story as though it were material for a play, something to amuse them over drinks. Before Turan could dwell on his disgust at their flippancy, Talis explained to the other gods how he had discovered Turan's identity.

"We were terribly busy at the time, and the father hadn't been particularly strong anyway. I didn't think there was any chance his son would be born a noble, so I didn't bother looking. But a vassal I met recently said he'd seen someone he thought was my bastard. I looked into it, wondering what on earth he meant, and found the boy."

Komad, the port city in the Enril Desert where he had bought Vije. Its lord, Kal Dirmin, had been the first to remark on Turan's resemblance to Talis. That meant he had occasion to see Talis now and then, if not often. He had later mentioned meeting a young man who resembled him, and Talis had investigated rather than laughing it off.

'Should I have killed Karl there?'

The thought occurred to Turan, but he shook his head. Quite apart from the fact that the noble had done him no particular wrong, murdering the head of a vassal house would have prompted an investigation that exposed Turan's existence all the same.

In effect, entering the Enril Desert to investigate his origins had been a mistake from the start. But he could hardly have helped it. Back then, he had never imagined he would resemble his relatives so closely.

"But why would a Zahar noble wander around instead of joining the house of his own accord? Don't tell me he's joined forces with another house?"

"He seems to be hiding his bloodline. Our last news of him was that he'd been playing lord in the Gray Zone and looking into his parents' past. Perhaps he suspects we killed his father."

"And why are you telling us this?"

Karmine's House Head asked, watching Talis with calm eyes.

"Do you want us to eliminate him if we find him?"

"I merely wanted you to know that whatever trouble he causes, we didn't put him up to it. You can eliminate him if a conflict arises... though I'd prefer you inform us. He seems reasonably capable, and I'd like to take him in and put him to use."

"Capable wizards are hard to come by. We breed so diligently, yet so few turn out useful."

"You're not planning anything funny with him as your excuse, are you?"

"I'm not."

Despite the threatening words, they apparently weren't serious, for they soon broke into idle laughter.

For better or worse, that ended the discussion of Turan. What followed was largely reminiscing, leaving him free to sit quietly and analyze their conversation.

'So far, they know I bought Vije in Komad and stayed in Kalamap to investigate the past. They'll also know I fought the Dark Elves alongside Arabion's nobles...'

Of course, he couldn't be certain that Talis had revealed everything he knew. Judging by the atmosphere, they had long been enemies and were only now tentatively offering a hand in reconciliation. It was unlikely he would lay everything bare under those circumstances.

Still, if that truly was how he had learned of Turan, there was a good chance he remained unaware of other important facts. For instance, that Turan had also inherited the Arabion Bloodline, possessed a top-ranking Holy Relic that could mimic bloodline abilities and appearances, had mana approaching a House Head's, and traveled with two companions even stronger than himself.

Most crucially of all, that he already knew the gods' secret—and had even killed one of them.

A little knowledge could be more dangerous than none at all. Perhaps he could turn that to his advantage.

As the gods continued talking, Turan set his thoughts aside and kept an ear open, cramming their conversation into his memory. The more he knew about their knowledge and thought processes, the easier it would be to deal with them.

"Remember how Caesar kicked me out of the party because of that YouTube link you sent me?"

"Oh, I remember. You got dragged through the mud on the forums for that too."

"And that guy who kept posting about buffing crafting classes was pretending to be a girl... He's dead now, though."

"If he were still around, civilization wouldn't be in this state. This is what we get when everyone with any science or engineering knowledge fucking dies."

"What's it matter? Most of what we'd need for progress won't even craft properly, probably because it's treated as items."

Naturally, Turan understood almost none of what they were saying. It was probably something from the forgotten culture of the old empire. Perhaps the librarian could offer a meaningful answer if he asked.

Several hours passed. Though he was in a somewhat shadowed spot, the sitting room itself was so bright that maintaining stealth consumed a considerable amount of mana. Turan began wondering when he should cut things short and leave.

Fortunately, he was spared the decision when the gods rose and began saying their farewells.

"We used to tear into each other like bastards, but it's actually nice seeing you after so long. Let's meet up now and then."

"Sure. Provided you don't kill me."

Jemel chuckled at Talis's words and clasped his outstretched hand. Meanwhile, Turan used tracking magic, hoping to collect even a single hair Talis had shed, only to discover something astonishing.

'He hasn't left... a single trace.'

Not a naturally shed hair or eyelash remained, nor even a flake of skin—far less useful for long-term tracking—or the saliva that should have been left on his teacup. He must have been constantly using telekinesis, fluid manipulation magic, or something similar to prevent himself from leaving traces. For all his easy chatter with them as though they were friends, he had never left the slightest opening.

Briefly marveling at that almost paranoid vigilance, Turan slipped out with the Karmine nobles as they opened the sitting-room door and left.

'I'd like to follow Talis... but I don't have much mana left.'

If things went wrong, he could find himself stranded inside the House Head's residence with no mana. Letting Talis go without a tracking medium would make him difficult to find again, of course, but it wasn't worth risking capture or discovery.

Turan followed them down the corridor and out of the House Head's residence, then entered a deserted alley and released his stealth. At last, the infiltration that had left his heart nearly bursting with tension was over.

* * *

Late that night, Turan returned to Onil's mansion with utterly brazen strides.

He wanted nothing more than to flee immediately, but he couldn't let Onil disappear just yet. If someone who had attended the meeting suddenly vanished, they would naturally investigate his movements. And if they learned of the Mimic who had spirited Maysa out of Arabion, they would realize the same person had been active here.

If that identity were eventually linked to Turan, they wouldn't dismiss him with another brief conversation like the one earlier. He needed to play Onil for at least a few more days. Better still if he could arrange a natural exit.

The butler and servants stood in a line before the mansion, which remained brightly lit despite the late hour, and bowed to greet him.

"Welcome home, Master."

"The carriage has been serviced as you ordered."

To facilitate his infiltration, he had sent the carriage back early on the pretext of having business to attend to. The coachman spoke as though offering an excuse, perhaps afraid he would seize on it as a reason for another outburst. Utterly exhausted, Turan dismissed them with a casual wave.

"Fine. I want to sleep, so all of you get lost."

Even he found it remarkable how effortlessly Onil's crude manner of speaking came to him after the past few days of practice. Thinking it might not be a bad idea to try acting in earnest if he ever had the chance, Turan washed with the maids' assistance, then flopped onto the bed.

"Um, Master. Tonight..."

"I'm tired."

After brusquely sending away the concubine who had approached to attend him that night, Turan took out his hand mirror and activated it. It was nearly midnight, and Maysa's face appeared before long.

["Hi."]

"Good evening. Have you eaten?"

["Yes. We had fried frog today. Solif still freaks out over it. He doesn't look the part, but he's such a pampered young master."]

They had already spoken several times over the past few days while he wore Onil's face, so his altered appearance didn't surprise Maysa. After briefly chatting about events at the settlement, Turan got straight to the point.

"I don't have much mana left today, so I'll keep this brief. I eavesdropped on a meeting of the gods."

["... A meeting of the gods?"]

"Yes."

["You're starting with quite the bombshell."]

Turan quickly relayed what he had heard in the conference room and while hiding in the House Head's sitting room. Maysa went pale when he told her that House Zahar had partially uncovered his identity.

["Come back right now! No, we'd better come to you. It'll only take a few days on Vije..."]

"There's no need to go that far. Like I said, they still think I'm an ordinary upper-tier noble. They don't even suspect I'm here."

He even thought it might be worth pretending to join House Zahar and gathering information from within. Wasn't an enemy on the inside the most dangerous kind?

["Wouldn't that be too dangerous? If they keep investigating, they'll find out you were close to me while you stayed in Arabion territory, or that you traveled with Solif near Ravista."]

"If they try to use me to track you two, I could feed them false information to hide you instead. Well, let's give it some more thought. We don't need to decide right now."

For now, the immediate issue was the looming war between Arabion and Karmine, and Zahar's intention to discreetly support Karmine. Of course, there was no guarantee they weren't merely pretending in order to stab Karmine in the back.

Turan needed to use this opportunity to drive a wedge between Arabion and Zahar however he could, preventing the two houses from communicating. He also needed to find as natural a way as possible to shed Onil's identity.

["My head's spinning just hearing all that..."]

"It can't be helped. Life isn't easy for anyone."

His grumbling was cut short as his eyes widened at a presence in the distance. The owner of that mana was unmistakably someone he had sensed just earlier...

"Sorry, I have to go."

["Huh? Why—"]

Turan hurriedly cut off the mirror's mana, stowed it in his High-Capacity Pouch, and lay down on the bed. With both eyes closed, he concentrated on the Holy Relic's senses and felt someone walk calmly down the corridor and open the door.

A noble's keen senses should easily have picked up footsteps far down that corridor, yet he hadn't even heard the door open. It was the work of highly advanced stealth magic.

'Talis...'

His grandfather, Talis, stood concealed beside the bed, looking down at him. It was almost the same arrangement as two days earlier, when Turan had slit Onil's throat.

Pretending to sleep, Turan struggled to calm his racing thoughts. Why on earth had he come? Had the emotions Turan betrayed at their first meeting made him suspicious? For that alone? If he attacked, should Turan fight back?

Even if he killed him, Turan had no means of trapping his soul, so the information would get out. They would learn that he could detect Zahar's stealth. One of his greatest weapons would be exposed for the most trivial of reasons.

"Mmm..."

After a moment's deliberation, Turan deliberately frowned, tossed in bed, and let out a groan, as though caught in a nightmare.

Talis had surely already smelled the anxiety coming off him. Turan reasoned that if he appeared to be sleeping peacefully, Talis would realize he was awake. Fear and anxiety would be normal for someone in the throes of a nightmare, making it the more convincing act.

He kept up the desperate performance for several minutes. Talis watched him silently, then held a finger above Turan's nose to check his breathing before finally leaving the bedroom.

Only after confirming that his presence had completely vanished beyond sensing range did Turan open his eyes and heave a deep sigh. He tried another tracking spell just in case, but once again Talis had left no trace that could serve as a medium.

"It really isn't easy..."

His impression upon meeting his grandfather for the first time was that the man was so keen and relentless that he never wanted to face him again.

* * *

In the days following the meeting, Turan calmly continued Onil's daily life as though he had never noticed that night's covert visit.

He grumbled about this and that and threw tantrums at home, summoned friends who were little more than underlings to gamble, and indulged in expensive food and drink...

Ironically, the reputation of the Onil he portrayed improved considerably in the process. Reluctant to break bones or inflict the sort of crippling damage the original had, Turan moderated his behavior. That alone made him seem positively mild to the servants compared with the old Onil.

Turan clicked his tongue when he heard them chuckling that their master had improved, even after enduring a torrent of abuse. He also learned that impersonating a complete fucking scoundrel came with its own difficulties.

Perhaps word had spread. About a week after the meeting, Onil's father, Jemel, paid him a visit.

"I hear you've been keeping quiet lately."

"Yes, Father..."

"What are you thinking? You haven't caused some fresh trouble behind my back and decided to lie low, have you?"

Under Jemel's sharp gaze, Turan recited the excuse he had prepared: the recent meeting had made him realize the house was in greater danger than he had thought, and he had resolved to change his attitude.

When he added that he had even begun practicing magic at home for an hour or two each day, Jemel laid a hand on his shoulder, looking deeply moved.

"Please, don't lose that resolve. As long as you keep moving forward, your father will always be on your side."

His voice was almost heartrendingly earnest, his eyes gentle. To anyone watching, he was the very picture of a stern but loving father. It was nearly impossible to imagine that he was one of the vessels of the gods who ruled Karmine.

Perhaps, like Ymir when he had inhabited Renod Nagin's body, he possessed a separate surface personality. Hadn't he said the host's personality in that state was a sort of shell worn over oneself—one that could not survive without the god's soul?

After comforting his son—or, more precisely, the person pretending to be his son—with the most benevolent expression imaginable, Jemel turned to the reason for his visit.

"You've been assigned a mission."

"A mission...?"

"A monster has been rampaging along the northern coast for the past few days. Apparently it's too much for the local nobles to handle. Having heard how well you've been behaving lately, I made a point of recommending you as captain of the subjugation force. Handle this well, and the rest of the house will see you in a new light."

Protecting their territory was the very reason nobles reigned over commoners, so repelling invaders was their foremost duty—just as Maysa had once led the Dark Elf subjugation force. Such tasks usually went to people like Onil: young and powerful, with room for their mana to grow, and closely related to someone influential.

Recombining the speech patterns he remembered from Onil, Turan cried out in the voice of a callow youth awkwardly trying to sound mature.

"Yes, Father! I won't disgrace your name!"

The pleasure in his voice wasn't entirely an act. A battle with a monster. It was the perfect excuse to cast off the identity of Onil Karmine, which had all but served its purpose.