The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Earlier, as Desmond departed from the guild building, an observant member spotted his departure and wasted no time in relaying the information to their superior. "Boss, I've got some fresh intel on that kid."

Mirror communication, a skill possessed only by a select few like Katrina and Desmond, was not within the reach of every individual. The average person could only transmit magical messages through their thoughts, their range and frequency varying from person to person.

The spy's voice quivered with exhaustion, sweat dripping down his face as he relayed the message. Not only did he pass Katrina's scrutiny, but he also adeptly blended into his surroundings, closely observing Desmond's every move. After a period of anticipation, he finally received a response, "Good, come to me immediately."

...

Following the instructions, the spy ventured into a narrow alley, where demons and slaves eked out their existence. Upon arrival, he called out, "Boss, I'm here. The one with the information."

Before him stood a man donning a clown hat, deriving twisted pleasure from tormenting a demon by jabbing his cigarette into its eyes. He carried a cane, seemingly employed for both entertainment and support during his travels.

The boss, having previously encountered Grimm in person, inquired, "Excellent. Now, provide me with the complete account." The spy proceeded to detail the events, reporting on Desmond's current circumstances. As he concluded, an eerie silence enveloped the scene, leaving the boss deep in contemplation.

"Very well, you may go, spy." The spy turned to depart but was abruptly halted.

"Wait." Trembling with fear, the spy slowly pivoted, his nerves jangling with apprehension. "Yes, boss. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

Ignoring his subordinate's inquiry, the boss mercilessly thrust his cane deeper into the demon's eyes, extinguishing its life. The spy's complexion turned pallid, bewildered by his supposed transgression. Panting heavily, he swallowed nervously, unable to fathom his mistake.

With the demon now deceased, the boss approached the spy and presented him with a bag. "Take this. It's your reward for your diligent efforts. And continue to keep a watchful eye on the child."

Upon hearing these words, the spy found himself engulfed in disbelief. He hesitantly questioned, "Is this truly happening, boss?"

The boss offered no response, simply turning away and gesturing dismissively. Overwhelmed with elation, the spy performed multiple bows in quick succession before hastening away from the vicinity, leaving the boss to confront the injured demons.

...

With the subordinate gone, the boss swiftly executed a sweeping arc with his staff, eliminating all the demons in one fluid motion, their lives abruptly extinguished.

As the boss stood amidst the slain demons, his attire besmirched by their blood, he eschewed a handkerchief for the cleansing task, instead opting to lick the crimson fluid from his fingers. "Tasteless," he mused, disappointed by the lack of flavor.

Seating himself upon the lifeless demon corpses, he directed a magic message towards Grimm, his master. "Greetings, Master. I have obtained the latest information regarding the child."

Unlike the concise nature of his exchanges with subordinates, Grimm promptly responded to the magical missive, his impatience evident. "Give me the details now," he urged.

"Understood. Here is the account..."

With rapt attention, the boss absorbed Mike's recollection of the incident relayed by his subordinates.

"Well done, Mike. You live up to your renowned reputation," Grimm commended, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Mike, a celebrated leader of mercenaries within the Raven Soul Guild, though unknown to many due to the focus on their investigative and intelligence endeavors rather than combat, modestly responded, "It pales in comparison to your illustrious reputation, Master Grimm."

"That will be all for now. You can retrieve your payment through my subordinates," Grimm declared, steering the conversation toward practical matters.

Perplexed, Mike sought clarification. "Forgive my confusion, Master Grimm, but will the surveillance not continue?"

"No need. I will personally handle the child," Grimm declared with unwavering confidence.

"Very well. It has been an honor working with you, Master Grimm," Mike expressed, rising from his seat and tipping his hat in a symbolic bow, despite their telepathic connection.

Meanwhile, within the confines of Grimm's residence, he reclined in his office, savoring a cup of tea after receiving the news from Mike. He swiftly canceled all scheduled appointments for the day.

"Servant, prepare the horse-drawn carriage. I shall pay a visit to Master Witch Leona," Grimm issued his directive.

"Yes, Master," the servant dutifully acknowledged.

...

As the carriage hurtled down the road en route to Leona's abode, the servant abruptly halted its progress. A furrow etched across Grimm's brow as he peered through the window, witnessing the servant engaged in a heated exchange with a child.

Though the child's figure eluded Grimm's discernment, one of the nearby guards interjected, "Halt! You nearly collided with young Master Desmond."

At the mention of the name, Grimm swiftly alighted from the carriage.

The creaking of the carriage door opening drew the attention of those present. As Desmond's gaze locked with Grimm's, his eyes momentarily narrowed before assuming an air of feigned ignorance. Grimm approached him, prompting even his own guards to lower their weapons and offer salutations.

"Greetings, if I am not mistaken, you must be Master Witch Leona's son?" Grimm inquired, his smile polite and amicable.

A knowing smirk danced across Desmond's lips. 'Cunning old fox,' he silently remarked, playing his part to perfection. Feigning surprise, he turned his gaze towards Grimm's servant, who was admonishing him.

"And who might you be?" Desmond inquired, feigning ignorance. He tilted his head to the side, his innocent eyes tracing every intricate detail of Grimm's attire, his expression a façade of curiosity.

Before Grimm could respond, his servant stepped forward, his voice raised as he scolded Desmond.

"Hey, kid, show some respect in the presence of the future Grandmaster Grimm!" The servant's derisive snort, coupled with his high-pitched tone and menacing stare, would be enough to subdue any ordinary individual.

Internally groaning at his servant's lack of tact, Grimm couldn't allow it to tarnish his reputation.

"Ah, indeed. My name is Grimm," he replied, attempting to defuse the situation as he extended a hand for a handshake.

'Well then, if you insist on this charade,' Desmond declared internally, donning a theatrical expression as though witnessing a deity descending from the heavens.

"Oh my, the wise Master Grimm! It is a tremendous honor to finally make your acquaintance," Desmond exclaimed, gripping Grimm's hand with fervor, almost causing the latter to lose his footing with the exuberance of the shake.

"Shall we retire to your abode first? There is a matter I wish to discuss with you," Grimm suggested, suspecting that Desmond remained oblivious to his true identity.

"Yay! Would you care to join me on my horse-drawn carriage?" Desmond asked, feigning excitement as he tugged on Grimm's hand.

"I am sorry, my young friend, but I am unable to do so. My carriage contains several valuable items," Grimm responded, his face reflecting a hint of remorse.

For a fleeting moment, disappointment flickered across Desmond's countenance. "Oh, that's alright. Let us proceed regardless," he swiftly recovered, his enthusiasm reignited.

Grimm couldn't shake the feeling that Desmond was playing an elaborate game, maintaining an outwardly friendly demeanor while concealing his true intentions. Nonetheless, he decided to play along, at least for the time being.