After handing in the forms, ten slow minutes dripped by like rain from a gutter.

Lilim thought of a trick. She sent the headset skirting along the eaves with the Helen Disk, gliding it back to the inn’s second floor like a swallow’s shadow.

The window cracked open from inside, a thin blade of light. A hand reached out, snatched the headset, and drew it in.

A minute later, the real mic hidden in the scrapped bunny‑ear set carried Dorothy’s voice through like a bell under water:

[So! You only pulled a fake name halfway on purpose, right!]

“Nope. It just hit me out of the blue.”

[Then why did “Lilim” roll off your tongue? You already built the persona, you incorrigible rascal!]

“...Am I at the ‘incorrigible old’ age already?”

The jab hit like a pebble to the heart. Doubt rippled through her. She was only pushing thirty. “Incorrigible” belonged to Sandryon and Xiaoyuan, not her.

“I’m in my twenties!”

[You think our Royal Guard buys that? You look exactly like one of those foxes over two hundred years old.]

Uh?

Lilim stared into the void, speechless.

Dorothy was fifteen, a mind like a blade. Among Gen Z prodigies, only Fang Tang could stand toe‑to‑toe with her. Through that teen lens, had Lilim already become a two‑century fossil?

“...What makes you say that?” She swallowed the ache, then asked.

[Your command of Infinite Power and Sorcery. Your never‑bothered attitude. Even as a maid doll playing underlings, not a hint of resentment—perfect immersion. Most of all, your identity swaps are seamless, like muscle memory honed over a long life. I’ve read novels too! You’re that ‘was a king, was a farmer’ completed build.]

……

You’re dead right. And you know why?

“Or maybe I just have good acting chops? It’s all performance.”

[Acting?]

“Yeah. Say I’ve lived over two thousand years. Every so often I enter a mysterious wish‑granting tournament. I win, wish to be a Longlifer and a powerhouse, and keep winning.”

[W‑what...]

“Kidding. I don’t make wishes. I’m a wage‑slave mechanic pushing thirty.”

[Heh. I don’t buy it.]

“And... sure, I’m touchy and gloomy. But in these twenty‑eight years, not a single second was spent ‘world‑weary and cynical.’ On this alone, I want you to believe me and remember it.”

[............]

People faced with fog and depth they can’t grasp reach for wilder stories. Seeing it in motion was almost funny. Lilim flexed ten fingers sheathed in nanometal, the sheen like wet graphite, and let the topic die.

After a while, a staffer called them down to the basement for the next registration step.

“We used to have no capability reviews for mercs. That gave us lots of mismatches and complaints. The tech roadblock held for ages. You’re lucky—this just got solved. You’ll be the first batch to get the new identity cards.”

Another “breakthrough after long bottleneck.” She’d heard that tune lately.

You folks hooked your system to Flash Energy too?

They headed into the basement. The staffer walked to a hulking machine and tapped a sequence.

Suddenly, from a palm‑sized square port on its face, a spray of translucent blue rectangles fanned out, like ice panes blooming from a spring. They filled the room wall to wall. Words and numbers flickered on each floating panel.

“...?!”

—“Terminal World”?!

The black‑clad chuunibyou youth’s power—why was it here—

[Waste not, want not.]

Dorothy’s voice came through the headset, calm as a cat.

“...Wetware?” Lilim breathed.

[Yes.]

A bit creepy. But not surprising.

The staffer didn’t notice Lilim whispering to the air. “Step onto that platform. Look into the window. Your panel will pop right up!”

“Uh... got it.”

Two days ago she’d joked the mercenary guild only lacked the Japanese‑style adventurer guild’s ability tester. Well, now it was complete.

Could Lilim even get tested? Would it spit out weird numbers? If she got exposed, she’d have to beg a cover‑up and owe someone again...

She condensed all her Flash Energy to a hidden knot, then edged onto the platform like a cat tiptoeing across tiles.

She peered into the black window.

An empty, dead eye stared back like a moon with its light eaten.

“...?!”

“Miss Lilim, good eyesight? Don’t worry, that eye isn’t a monster. It’s an ‘Omniscient Eye,’ an apparatus that reads and parses data.”

Sure. If you say so.

She muttered inside, and a fresh panel sprayed up with her stats.

[Strength D Agility A Endurance E Sorcery A Relic A]

[Relic: Origin Suppression]

Hm? That panel—strength and endurance are low. Pre‑ascension numbers. Cut off the Flash Energy boost and the bones show.

“What does this ‘Relic’ mean?”

“We’re not sure. Never heard the term. Maybe ancient mystic jargon?”

She’d stared at Coffee Moon with envy for so long. Could it be—Yekase had powers too?!

...No. If that were possible, he would’ve awakened in one of the many close shaves. More likely he read her Nightlight Torch and slapped on a name.

A slot in the machine spat out an iron identity card. It bore “Lilim” and the first four stats, no Relic grade or name.

Lilim stepped down and, in her heart, told the black‑clad youth goodbye. She set Mafty up for testing.

[Strength B Agility D Endurance ∞ Sorcery — Relic —]

[Relic: None]

...What a trash panel!

You sure you’re a superpower’s construct?

Endurance ∞ was almost certainly because Mafty was Dorothy’s ghost. The real endurance came from the main body’s mind, nowhere near infinity.

Lilim and Dorothy both knew. The staffer didn’t. He jolted. “Endurance... infinite?! Since we brought this tester online, we’ve never seen that! Who are you, exactly?!”

Classic ability‑tester moment: bug‑level data shocks the staffer. Funny thing—Lilim dodged it, and the fake got to flex.

She took the identity card printed [Mafty] for her—there was nobody inside the armor, no pocket to stash it in.

That wrapped registration.

The staffer suggested they warm up on small bounties. Lilim only wanted a spare identity parked on the shelf. No rush.

[What job should we pick?]

Dorothy sounded excited, wind bells in spring.

[I rarely go outside, let alone fight. Teacher, how do you usually resolve an incident?]

“Uh... I spot someone stirring trouble, investigate, then kick the door and one‑shot them.”

[So concise!]

“Oh, right. Before the one‑shot, I try to do an ‘answer arc.’ Aim for a Conan moment where the mastermind kneels, sobs, and surrenders... So far, never worked. Reveal the dirt, they all go feral. No idea why.”

[I thought Longlifers liked to watch things play out, only step in if needed.]

“Told you—I’m in my twenties. My body’s a Longlifer. My mindset’s lazier than when I was human, but not that far gone.”

Truth was, some Longlifers were exactly that. And she made it sound easy; in reality, pure stomp kills were rare. Most cases were close calls. But saying that felt like being the anime side character who goes fifty‑fifty with everyone. Kills the mystique. Best not in front of a student.

Even after Flash Energy ascension, big events still take sweat and blood. That’s on the world being too high‑magic.

If she dropped into a world where ten times sonic meant escape velocity and a carrier weighed ten tons of hydrogen, she’d finally get that invincible dragon‑proud MC treatment. Then leading humanity to ascend and blaze a trail among the stars wouldn’t even be hard. No way she’d squat on Earth calling herself a god.

To indulge Dorothy’s tourist mood, Lilim walked to the recruitment board and studied the neat rows of bounties. One mission caught her eye: wipe out a small group in the hills.

Only four members, but each carried a signature move, grit like iron, and patience that stunned crowds. They hid in a mountain spot the Church couldn’t find. On festivals, they roamed Central Europe and struck.

Their main crimes: graffiti on churches and crosses, stealing Church funds, wrecking communion and sacred objects.

Isn’t that... good?

Their defiance tugged at Lilim like a firefly at dusk. She decided, without hesitation, to take the bounty.

She reached to pull the notice—

—another hand beat her to it.

She looked up. Freckles. Thirty‑ish. Stout, leather armor creaking like old bark.

The woman stared down with a scornful squint. “The place to sell yourself is three streets away. Why’re you in a mercenary guild?”

“I’m a merc, y’know.” Lilim didn’t get mad. She lit up, beaming like a sunrise at praise.

“Dressed like that in public—if you aren’t ashamed, I am for you!” The woman lunged, grabbing the two “headlights” bagged under Lilim’s coat. “Shameless—”

...They didn’t budge.

The sensation at her fingertips was steel. Not even a ripple of shape.

Silicone? No. Silicone isn’t this hard—

“Witch Gear.”

Lilim’s right hand brushed her waist. A strange belt‑like device blinked in, cinching her willow waist. Rectangular frame. A red circle at center, crossed by a T‑mark. Three colored buttons on the left, an arrow emblem on the right.

A palm‑sized card case hung at her hip. She drew a card and swept it across the belt’s face.

The card flashed into a beam and vanished. The machine spoke:

“—‘Lamp Down to the Styx.’”

Pink nanotech armor darkened from the boots up, ink flooding silk. In a heartbeat, she was wearing night.

Lilim raised her right hand, now a feral claw. Her index finger tipped the woman’s chin, gentle as a hook.

“Senior, would you do me the honor of a quick spar outside?”

……

“...N‑no... I’ll pass...”