NOVEL NEXT chapter 112 - Reconnaissance (2)
All things in the world [N O V E L I G H T] must maintain balance.
Light and shadow, strengths and weaknesses. Where there is light, there is also darkness.
Yes. That’s how the world is supposed to turn.
Which means—if one side becomes too overwhelming, the balance must not be broken.
“Lord Carlyle, are you a student at Yoram?”
“Wow—! We’ll be enrolling soon, too!”
“Then that makes us your juniors!”
The young ladies, voices chirping brightly as they surrounded Carlyle, launched a barrage of questions, their energy and tension rising higher and higher.
And behind them, walking along with an aura that, if it matched the atmosphere and tension of the girls, would turn Carlyle from a single organism into a shattered, multiple corpse—was the Hero herself.
“...”
...Wasn’t the darkness a bit too strong compared to the light, right now? Let’s try keeping some balance.
It wasn’t as though Gray ever radiated warmth or friendliness, come to think of it.
But the aura she was putting out now was truly unusual.
She was always the type to lash out with her fists the moment something displeased her, regardless of the target, but now—now it felt like she might just draw her sword.
“That’s true enough, but... I don’t know if I’d be a very good senior.”
“Hm? Why not?”
“You seem so kind! Once we enroll, we’ll follow you everywhere!”
“You might end up dead if you do.”
Mainly, at the hands of Gray, who was glaring like a beast from behind him right now.
But the “traffic light trio” took Carlyle’s words as a joke, bursting into laughter together.
“What do you mean by that—!”
“You really do talk so funny—!”
...He hadn’t said anything particularly amusing, and yet watching them laugh so heartily—it was almost admirable.
Was this that unique teenage-girl sensibility, the kind that could cackle at a rolling leaf? For an old man like Carlyle, it was exhausting just trying to keep up...
“...”
And then there was the young lady who kept twitching her hand toward the hilt of the Holy Sword. Carlyle wiped cold sweat from his forehead and shook his head.
No, really, was it so strange to spend a little time together? It wasn’t like he was doing anything improper.
What on earth was she planning to do, reaching for the sword like that...?
[...You seem in good spirits. How does it feel, being a popular man?]
Good spirits? THIS?!
[...You could just admit it feels good.]
“...”
Was she finally losing her mind?
Where exactly was the joy in being threatened with murder in real time...?
“Lady Vespa. Would you please say something—”
As Carlyle turned his head toward Vespa, he fell silent.
“Yes?”
“...”
“Lord Carlyle, what is it?”
“...Nothing at all.”
Her smile was frosted over.
A mask-like smile, the kind that made the blood drain from his veins just to look at.
He had never once seen such an expression from this kindhearted woman.
Why was she acting this way, too?
There was nowhere in the world he could rest.
Ah, wouldn’t it be nice if a demon showed up right now.
The blasphemous thought crossed his mind—because the atmosphere truly felt like walking across thin ice.
Fortunately, what awaited them wasn’t a demon encounter, but a different kind of meeting.
“Are you Lord Carlyle Belfast?”
Looking up, he found a clergyman with a gentle smile.
“His Excellency Felix sent me. My name is Gregory, I’ll be your guide today. I belong to the Church’s Exorcism Division.”
Ah.
This was the “cooperative member” from the Orthodox Church Felix had mentioned in advance.
For Carlyle, at this moment, he was like light and salt descending from heaven...
“Yes, Father Gregory. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’ve heard much of your reputation, Brother. I’d like to speak more deeply with you, but... I doubt time will allow it.”
With those words, Gregory sighed and turned around.
The disused factory district on the outskirts of the capital filled their view.
Dust stung the nose, the smells of metal and oil spread thickly, coating their faces.
“I was told our goal was to locate items within that carry demonic energy... but I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“It looks rather... lively, though?”
Vespa tilted her head.
“When I heard the word ‘demon,’ I imagined something gloomier and more desolate. This is... surprisingly ordinary, isn’t it?”
Ordinary, familiar spaces where people passed by daily—one wouldn’t expect demons to hide there.
“Perhaps so. I thought the same. But I was told Brother Carlyle himself said this was the first place we must search—”
“They nest in places like this more often than you’d think. They exploit preconceptions.”
Carlyle answered evenly.
There were two principles when searching for traces of demons.
First: check the blind spots of perception, for the lamp’s base is darkest.
Second: ask yourself whether the place is one where “the most people would die” if something happened.
“When the two overlap, that’s usually the place. In that sense, this site is ideal.”
That was why, among the candidates, Carlyle had chosen this location to search first.
If the enemy was going to make a move, this would be their number one spot.
“...”
The others all stared at him blankly at those words.
Among them, Gregory’s gaze was the most suspicious.
“Brother... have you ever belonged to the Church before?”
“...No. But I’ve faced demons.”
Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times.
Until their habits were carved into his soul, muscles, and bones.
Gregory studied Carlyle closely as he reflected on this truth.
His gaze was that of a man who had never seen such a creature in his life.
“His Excellency said you were talented, but this is remarkable. Even our Exorcism Division still has many gaps in our knowledge of demonic habits. I hope you’ll share what you know sometime.”
The priest chuckled as he said this, and Carlyle returned a strained smile.
“Well, let’s head inside, then.”
***
Thanks to the holiday period for the festival, the factory district was deserted.
And the moment they stepped inside—
Carlyle felt his head spin and took a deep breath.
“...”
The demonic miasma gnawed at his skin like rot crawling into his nose.
He felt it.
This was a big one.
There was absolutely something here.
“...Lady Vespa. Can you look after the young ladies here?”
“Hm? Y-yes?”
“We’ll split into two groups.”
The teams: Gray, Carlyle, and Father Gregory.
And Vespa with the traffic light trio.
In truth, the split wasn’t for any other reason than this: something was definitely going to happen.
So the division was simply between those needed in combat and those who must be kept from harm.
“...Lord Carlyle, will you be alright?”
Perhaps sensing something unusual about him, Vespa hesitated as she asked.
“I’ll be fine. Please take care of the young ladies.”
He left Vespa and the trio at the entrance, with the warning to run if danger arose.
Then, as soon as they stepped into the darkened building, Gray narrowed her eyes and spoke.
“...Are you alright?”
“Hm?”
“You look like you’re struggling.”
The exact same words Vespa had said.
Carlyle gave a weary smile in answer.
“Of course. I’m fine.”
“No. Don’t give me platitudes.”
Her voice was deadly serious.
“You’re a mess inside right now, aren’t you?”
“...”
“Even walking looks hard for you.”
What could he say?
Every so often, she was far too perceptive. That was the problem.
“You haven’t fully recovered, have you?”
...Hard to deny.
The poison he’d taken fighting the Hydra still lingered, the recovery sluggish.
Had he not toughened his body somewhat while tumbling around with the Dean, he’d already be dead by now.
And there were aftereffects, too, from borrowing the Hero’s aura—he could feel his responsiveness in combat had dropped.
“...This much is fine.”
Anyway, even if a demon did appear, Gray was here with him.
The chance of real disaster was low.
So he answered, and Gray gave a slow nod.
“Stay right beside me. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Reliable, as expected of her.
“If you drag us down by doing something stupid, I’ll kill you.”
...Beastly, as expected of her.
As they exchanged words, Father Gregory looked between them with fascination.
“...Interesting.”
“Hm?”
“I had heard much of the Hero’s peculiar temperament. But Brother Carlyle, what exactly is your relationship with her?”
“...”
“...”
It was a simple question.
But the moment it was asked, Gray’s eyes shifted slightly.
She glanced at Carlyle, curious what he’d say.
“Servant and master.”
The instant the words left his lips, her face darkened with ferocity.
...But he’d only spoken the truth. Why?
“I’m going on ahead.”
With that, Gray rushed forward, and Gregory chuckled heartily.
“The Hero seems to hold you in great favor, Brother.”
“...”
“That’s how it looks to me.”
...Something about this.
“She must find you precious.”
Gregory’s eyes lingered on Carlyle, as though he had discovered something intriguing.