"Name."

"Arag."

"Age."

"Twenty-two."

"Gender."

"You really have to ask?"

Arag erupted in anger. "Can't you tell?!"

"Of course I need confirmation. You illusionists are deceitful at heart. Who knows if this current appearance of yours is even real?"

Moen crossed his arms, casting him a sidelong glance.

"Mind your position. Prisoners don’t get to talk back so much."

"..."

Arag's face turned bright red. As a genius bent on spreading the art of illusion, he had never endured such humiliation before.

But...

He glanced to his side at Lea, who held a radiant blade of holy light aimed directly at him, ready to strike the moment he made any suspicious move. Reluctantly, he extinguished any rebellious thoughts.

Beneath another's roof, one is forced to lower their head.

Though he was a bit weaker than his adversaries at the moment, this grudge—he would never forget it.

Twisting his body, now numb from the ropes binding him, Arag reluctantly muttered in a low voice, "Male..."

"Very good."

Moen patted his shoulder with satisfaction. "Now then, tell me everything you know."

"Information? What information? I just—"

"Everything. All the information you’ve got."

"…"

Arag gritted his teeth in silence.

This was too much, far too much. In this sort of trial, information was absolutely crucial. He had poured considerable effort into gathering his intelligence, only for it to be taken away so easily and handed over for free?

It was utterly...

"Unwilling?"

Moen's hand on Arag's shoulder suddenly tightened, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Look, we’re all friends now, aren’t we? Surely you don’t want this to end on a sour note."

"…"

Arag closed his eyes, swallowing the humiliation.

Fine.

As significant as intelligence was, it was only the first day of the trial. At this stage, most of everyone’s information was likely similar—data readily accessible through common channels. Sharing such information wasn’t too great of a loss.

Still, this grudge—he’d remember it!

"Alright. Currently, the intelligence I’ve gathered includes…"

It didn’t take long under Moen’s questioning for Arag to spill everything he knew. From notable opponents to key figures’ signature moves, as well as gossip that seemed sourced from who-knows-where. Some of it was even sensational tidbits about various individuals.

Compared to what Moen had gleaned from newspapers, his intel was far more detailed. However, details about Moen herself were categorized under "gossip."

Upon hearing this, Moen couldn't suppress the urge to kick the damn bear responsible for leaking such absurd rumors. Any hard-earned reputation she'd cultivated within the academy had been sold off to gossip rags for likely an insultingly low price.

Infuriating.

But here in the relic, all that could wait.

What mattered now was...

"The sole passage?" Moen probed.

"Yes. Someone has circled the perimeter of the wall entirely and found only one entrance. The door the church referred to must be inside."

Arag nodded.

"It’s just that, so far, no one has gone in."

"Why?"

Moen asked, intrigued.

"Nobody wants to risk being the cannon fodder or steppingstone for others."

Arag tilted his head in the direction of the town’s depths, sneering.

"The danger is unknown. There’s only one passage. Sure, everyone wants to be the first to open the door, but no one wants to pave the way for others. They’re all waiting for someone else to make the first move."

"I see. That makes sense," Moen sighed. "I thought we’d arrived early, but apparently, others acted even faster."

"Early?"

Arag’s expression shifted and grew peculiar.

"With the way you two were moving at such a leisurely pace—like you were on a date—how could you possibly…"

Bam!

Arag’s voice stammered into silence as a holy-light dagger was suddenly driven into the dirt beside his vital spots. The girl dressed in a skirt blushed slightly, glaring angrily.

"N-Nonsense! This is definitely not a date!"

"…"

Terrified, Arag’s legs trembled violently. He whimpered, "Alright, alright, I admit it—I said nonsense, it was inexcusable..."

You're the one talking nonsense. You were obviously enjoying yourself.

"In any case, I couldn’t stand all those two-faced people, so I stepped out for some air. Setting a trap was purely incidental; I wasn’t specifically targeting you. This whole thing is just a misunderstanding."

Arag withdrew his gaze from Lea and tried squeezing out a smile, utterly bereft of his earlier arrogance, as he tentatively suggested:

"How about we part on friendly terms, and just let me go?"

"Now, why would I do that?" Moen raised an eyebrow.

"By participating in this ceremony, we’re all competitors. I’m not about to foolishly release a tiger back into the wild."

"So…"

Ailag mulled over it for a moment, biting his lip. "How about I help you instead?"

"Help?"

"Exactly. I could temporarily separate from the illusionist faction and stick with the two of you, assisting you in various tasks."

Arag elaborated, "You two are stronger than anyone would anticipate. Add the expertise of the illusionist faction’s genius, Arag, to the mix, and perhaps…"

He didn’t finish the thought, but Moen already understood his meaning.

"An extra helping hand, huh? Sounds promising, but..."

Moen paused to think for a moment before suddenly glancing at Lea:

"What do you think?"

"Umm… ah?"

Lea had evidently been daydreaming. When Moen spoke, she blinked and returned to alertness, her endearing innocence on full display.

"He said he wants to join us."

Moen gestured toward Arag and repeated the proposal.

"Why… why are you asking me?" Lea blinked in confusion.

"Because you’ll be the future Saintess, after all," Moen smiled. "And as your knight, isn’t it proper for me to follow the Saintess’s wishes?"

"Me… really? Hehe…"

Lea bashfully lowered her head, visibly flustered.

She turned to carefully scrutinize Arag, then sneaked a quick glance at Moen. Her grip on the radiant blade tightened and then relaxed as she wavered in indecision.

"Having someone to help would indeed be good, but… but…"

"Gulp..."

Arag swallowed hard, staring at the sharp holy-light blade looming near his vital regions as it oscillated between firm grip and relaxed hold. His heart leaped as though plunging off a cliff, a feeling so harrowing he almost broke down in tears.

You’ve got to be kidding me. If you didn’t want a third wheel, just say so! Stop pretending this isn’t a date!

"Forget it. Since Lea seems hesitant," Moen said, appearing to catch onto her ambivalence.

"Actually, thinking this over, having him tag along may not be all benefits. He’s quite a prominent figure and represents the illusionist faction. If we were seen walking together, it might draw suspicion from others."

"So," Moen concluded.

"So?"

"Arag, my friend, do you have any interest in helping us… covertly?"

Moen’s deep, lake-like eyes sparkled with an honesty that seemed genuine as he earnestly suggested an alternative.

"Covertly?"

"Precisely."

Moen nodded. "You’ll remain the illusionist faction’s genius, and we’ll stay our unimpressive selves—mere soft targets and defenseless lambs. But when the crucial moment arrives, I hope you can lend a hand to assist us. That’s all."

"Assist you…?"

Arag froze, then broke into an ecstatic grin.

"Of course! Absolutely!"

How could he refuse? This was so much less restrictive than he’d initially anticipated.

More importantly, once he was free, why would he abide by terms, conditions, or agreements? Trustworthy behaviors like that weren’t anywhere in his illusionist training manual!

"Splendid! But I still have concerns about whether you’ll stick to this plan, Arag. What if you… suddenly decide to turn against us?" Moen's tone turned cautious.

"I won’t! Never!" Arag said firmly.

"If you’re uneasy, we can sign a contract. I can even swear an oath to the divine! From now on, we’re like brothers—closer than blood brothers. Your concerns will be mine, and if I can help, I’ll definitely help!"

"That’s music to my ears!" Moen looked thrilled as he slung an arm around Arag’s shoulders, their camaraderie blooming as though they were kindred souls rediscovering each other.

But then, Moen pivoted sharply in tone.

"Arag, brother, signing contracts requires preparation, and divine oaths… well, those feel less binding for non-believers like yourself. Don’t you think?"

Ailag’s smile froze. "What do… what do you mean?"

"It’s nothing."

Moen exchanged glances with Lea, who shook her head, signaling her inexperience in coercive methods despite all her readings.

Luckily, Moen considered himself adept at such tactics.

"It seems we’ll have to rely on the most straightforward, tried-and-true method," Moen said, turning his attention back to him with a friendly smile.

"Earlier, my dear brother Arag claimed his gender was male, correct?"

"So… so what?" Arag stammered uneasily.

"That’s wonderful."

Moen shifted his gaze to Lea and asked, "Do you have any old skirts that you don’t use?"

"…Huh?!"

Both Ailag and Lea froze in shock, though Lea adjusted quickly and nodded.

"Y-yes, the senior nun gave me some recently."

With a gesture, she procured a large yet elegant nun’s robe: simple, humble, and entirely devoid of ornamentation.

Moen accepted the robe with satisfaction—it was wide enough to fit varying body types without being overly strict about proportions—and offered it to Arag with seriousness.

"Here. Wear this."

"W-what? No, no way!"

Finally realizing his intentions, Arag erupted in panic, shaking his head wildly.

"You want me in women’s clothing?! Let me tell you right now—forget it! Never happening!"

I am a genius of the Tower of Origin, the hope for the rise of the Illusionist School, the renowned magical illusionist Eirag!

In the future, I plan to use this name to find at least three gentle and caring girlfriends—how could I possibly wear something like this?! Not in a million years!

“I see. Well, if you’re so against it, as your brother, I won’t force you. I’ll just give you another direction to choose from, alright?”

Moen still maintained his gentle demeanor as he reached toward Arag’s chest and pulled out a magic scroll.

The scroll throbbed with spatial energy and bore the insignia of the church.

“So, it’s your choice.”

Moen placed two items before Arag. “You can either put on this nun’s habit, obediently let us take a few photos, and become my sworn brother, or… exit the stage right now.”

Moen offered a calm, gentle smile that carried no trace of coercion:

“I won’t make things difficult for you. It’s entirely up to you.”

This was what he called “not making things difficult”? He’d already cornered him into a dead end!

Arag gritted his teeth so hard he might as well have cracked them. He hadn’t anticipated that this golden-haired man, who was so handsome he could charm both men and women, would have such a vile personality!

He turned to Lea for help, hoping the candidate for saintess would put this unruly knight in his place.

But at that moment, Lea looked at Moen with a completely stunned expression.

“This… this is even possible? Why didn’t I think of that?”

She’s beyond saving.

Eirag closed his eyes.

“Forget it. I absolutely refuse—”

“I advise you to think this through carefully. This is nothing more than a precaution against betrayal. In other words, as long as you remain my sworn brother, nothing will happen to you. But…”

Moen continued in a devilishly persuasive tone:

“Canterwell, The Lost Land, The Golden Kingdom—opportunities like this only come once.”

Arag’s eyelid twitched.

Indeed, the request made by this despicable guy was absolutely unacceptable to a 100% straight man like himself.

But…

This was Canterwell!

The ancient relic countless people yearned for, dreamed of, and would do anything to enter!

It was also the hope for revitalizing the Illusionist School!

To leave without accomplishing anything...

“Actually, you don’t need to be so conflicted. Think about it—there are only three of us here, aren’t there?”

Moen pressed on:

“I promise no fourth person will know. Furthermore, once this matter is over, I’ll erase all traces as if it never happened.”

“Swear on it!”

Arag suddenly opened his eyes.

“I swear to the Goddess.” Moen raised four fingers toward the heavens.

“Then…”

Arag’s face twisted, and after long hesitation, he finally squeezed out a few words through clenched teeth:

“Fine... I’ll… I’ll wear it.”

This wasn't giving in.

It was simply a reluctant compromise.

Everything was for the revival of the Illusionist School!

For the three girlfriends whose names he didn’t even know!

This humiliation—he would remember it!

The disgrace he suffered in front of those two—he would repay it tenfold in the future!

…

A few minutes later, after Eirag had left:

Lea flipped through the photos they had just taken. Suddenly, she puffed out her cheeks and looked across at Moen with an adorable pout.

“You’re such a bad guy! Actually using that kind of trick to threaten him!”

“I just learned to resolve problems using senior’s methods...”

“Senior?”

“Ah, never mind. Forget it, it’s nothing…”

Moen turned to Lea, the corners of his mouth lifting in a mischievous smile.

“Lea already knows I’m a bad guy, doesn’t she? You were saying just now that I was ‘amazing.’”

“Ugh, that was just me being caught off guard; I didn’t realize how bad you are!”

Lea spoke with a bit of concern.

“But aren’t you afraid of completely offending him this way? Although the Illusionist School has been in decline within the Tower of Origin recently, it’s still a force to be reckoned with.”

“Don’t worry, I know my limits. It’s just a small embarrassment in front of the two of us. It shouldn’t make him completely tear things apart; he’d be more eager than us to keep this secret.

No matter whether he helps in the future or not, I’ll delete what needs to be deleted.

Besides...”

“Besides?”

“Besides, Lea is going to become the future saintess, isn’t she?”

Moen winked, smiling.

“Won’t you save your naughty knight when the time comes?”

“No way!”

Lea chuckled playfully.

Then, unexpectedly, she suddenly turned her head to the side, lightly twirling a strand of hair near her temple. Her bashful voice emerged:

“By the way.”

“Hmm?”

“That nun’s habit earlier—Moen, do you… actually like it? If… if you do, then I…”

“Ah…”

The breeze swept by. In the girl’s breathtaking profile, the atmosphere suddenly grew a bit heated, as though this wasn’t the ancient relic full of peril, but rather a sunset-shrouded street in the twilight.

It felt as though something was rising.

Moen experienced a moment of daze, yet it seemed he could hear the resolute voice of the girl whispering in his ear.

“Something like that, perhaps.”

His gaze regained clarity:

“But this isn’t the time for that. Let’s keep going.”

“…Okay.”