Ch.455Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

I don’t have any text to translate outside of what you’ve provided. Here is the English translation of the novel excerpt:

It’s not like I haven’t experienced interrogation or torture before. Intelligence agencies operate various programs for education, evaluation, and internal research, and training to resist torture was one of those programs.

However, a woman’s questioning has something more persistent and strangely venomous than an investigator’s or disciplinarian’s interrogation. Faced with Francesca’s passionate questioning, I couldn’t easily open my mouth.

“……”

When asked if you’ve committed adultery with your sister-in-law, anyone would feel their face grow hot. Especially if the person being questioned had actually committed the infidelity.

A heavy silence continued, and Francesca just stared at my face for a while. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me.

And a moment later, a short sound burst from her lips.

“…pfft.”

Francesca suddenly lowered her head and suppressed a laugh. It was a clever smile, desperately holding back laughter that was about to burst out.

She brushed back her disheveled hair as she struggled to contain her laughter. Her pale face, which had been frozen cold, was gone, replaced by a flush of heat that bloomed on her cheeks. Francesca fanned herself repeatedly as if to cool her burning face, and only then could I be certain.

This woman was toying with me again.

As if putting a period to that certainty, Francesca wiped the corners of her moist eyes with the back of her hand and began to speak in her elegant voice.

“Ahaha, I’m sorry, Officer. I forgot I was just teasing you… I got too serious. Were you surprised?”

“Huh….”

As a hollow laugh escaped my lips, Francesca’s expression brightened considerably. Like someone who had slept well and shaken off fatigue. That kind of face.

“I’ve been quite rude. I originally intended to tease you just once, but your reaction was too amusing.”

Francesca laughed heartily as she took back her words.

I was slightly suspicious, but I had vaguely sensed that she was making accusations she didn’t really mean. Still, the timing of her questioning about my relationship with Veronica was so unexpected and exquisite that I couldn’t help but feel chills down my spine.

I worried that perhaps Veronica had carelessly let slip something about our relationship to Francesca. Fortunately, it seems my concerns were unfounded.

She had simply asked the question with the pure intention of teasing me.

With a pleasant smile, Francesca leaned back against the chair and readily admitted it.

“You stammered when I asked about your relationship with Saint Lucia, and I could see you pretending not to be flustered when I asked about your relationship with the Hero. I wondered if you’d be even more flustered if I brought up my sister… and your reaction was more entertaining than I expected.”

“…Really now. You asked such a thing just to see my reaction?”

“Hmm- of course not… Actually, my sister was bragging about you a lot.”

“What kind of bragging?”

“My sister came here on orders from the Papal Office, but instead of focusing on her work, she met with you and Saint Lucia. While I’m stuck here unable to go anywhere… she suddenly came to brag about it… I was a bit annoyed.”

So to summarize.

She couldn’t move freely because her official duties overlapped with the vampire incident, but then Veronica suddenly came and bragged about laughing and chatting with me, so she got jealous and took it out on me… is that it?

“…Huh.”

I could only let out another hollow laugh, having lost all sense of composure.

Why on earth did that crazy Veronica go to Francesca of all people to brag? As I was thinking this, Francesca continued.

“I was already in a bad mood because of Saint Lucia, and then my sister did that too—how do you think I felt? I think this was justified self-defense, don’t you agree?”

“No, I keep telling you there’s nothing between Lucia and me….”

“You risked your life for her but claim there’s nothing between you? Hmm….”

Though she said that, she didn’t seem to actually doubt my relationship with Lucia. Rather than that, her expression was thoroughly imbued with mischievous intent to tease me again.

“Oh my….”

These (step)sisters are just dying to torment me as a pair. Fox-like humans. How did I end up marked by such women?

As the tension eased, a melancholic feeling began to creep over me.

As I sighed with a gloomy expression, Francesca approached me.

Her slender fingers cupped my chin and cheeks. With a gentle touch, she lifted my face, and—

*smooch*

She pressed her soft lips against my forehead once.

“Don’t get hurt, and come back safely. I’ll be waiting. Though I hope you won’t make me wait too long?”

Francesca added with a radiant smile.

“Because anything loses its appeal if you miss the right timing.”

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Everything has its proper time. Miss the timing, and the enjoyment is halved.

It was a puzzling, enigmatic statement, but there was no way to know what she actually meant. I asked her what she was planning, but Francesca refused to reveal the answer.

Instead, she left only with mysterious words like “you can look forward to it.”

“……”

“Do you have something on your mind? Your expression seems dark.”

“It’s nothing, Lucia.”

I deflected the question Lucia offered. It wasn’t a satisfying answer, so she tilted her head slightly, but she didn’t press for a response and turned her attention elsewhere.

After compiling sheets full of medical terminology, someone from the monastic order came to take over.

The nun who respectfully received the documents from the saint disinfected her hands, then raised her voice as she took out disposable gloves and a mask.

“Next person, please come in!”

One side of the tent opened. A group of refugees passed through the door held open by a holy knight and sat down, guided by an interpreter from the aid organization. The monastics checked the refugees’ conditions, classified the patients, and immediately began healing by invoking divine power.

“My, everyone is so busy.”

I muttered as I left the tent.

Lucia answered as she bent her waist and exited through the door.

“For people whose survival is the top priority, hygiene is merely a secondary concern. That’s why there are bound to be so many patients.”

Though the religious orders and international organizations were working together to treat the refugees, the number of patients showed no signs of decreasing.

It wasn’t just because of the saturated number of refugees or the unsanitary conditions in the camp. Rather, a more macroscopic and fundamental problem was identified as the cause.

As is typical with developing or impoverished countries, the overall healthcare system of the Mauritanian continent was in an extremely poor state. Parasites and bacteria infested wells, rivers, and lakes, and with few people receiving secondary education, there was little concept of hygiene.

Originally, developing a healthcare system required continuous efforts and willingness to improve from both the private sector and the government, but with pigs who only took bribes occupying positions everywhere, how could hospitals function properly? In a country already fraught with problems, projects to improve public health were always pushed to the back burner. On top of that, civil wars between the central government and local warlords had been ongoing for years in various regions. The fragile medical system of the Mauritanian continent had been under a death sentence for a long time.

Mass casualties from civil war, victims of monster attacks, patients wandering the streets with no hospitals to go to. The area was already overflowing with patients, and with the rainy season creating perfect conditions for epidemics to spread, wails of grief echoed through every alley and home in town.

With no proper facilities for treatment, everyone had to suffer, whether they had money or not. Then rumors spread that a saint from abroad was caring for patients free of charge.

In such a situation, it was obvious what choice patients and their families would make.

About a week ago, intelligence came in that patients had begun moving from across the continent.

Embassies, consulates, overseas branches of companies, industrial complexes, and so on. Foreign ministries that monitored the trends of expatriates and local communities quickly came to me with tips that “large numbers of refugees will soon be arriving,” which soon became reality.

“……”

A man dragging a leg with bone protruding through torn clothes, an elderly person being unloaded from an ambulance on a stretcher, a crying child with parents who didn’t know what to do, a little one crouched on the stairs just blinking weakly.

Looking around at the patients scattered throughout the camp, I was aghast. The number of patients was one thing, but there was a bigger problem.

“This isn’t just happening here, is it?”

Lucia nodded silently.

“Yes, I hear the other camps are in similar situations.”

“……”

Foreign ministries and local governments can easily find out where Lucia is moving. They don’t even need to mobilize intelligence agencies—diplomats assigned to the World Union can just ask representatives of the religious order, or have diplomatic officials ask me directly.

But refugees don’t have that kind of intelligence capability. Families brought their sick, following rumors passed from mouth to mouth, heading to refugee camps where the saint might be.

The result was the camp scene we were now witnessing.

“…This is maddening.”

I massaged the back of my neck and muttered a curse. Lucia, also surveying the surroundings, furrowed her elegant brow.

“I understand how the patients feel. They want to grasp at any straw they can. It’s not like there weren’t patients who traveled far to receive treatment in Fohwa. But this is….”

“…Pretty serious, isn’t it?”

“‘Pretty’ doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“……”

It was inevitable that the influx of all kinds of patients to the camp would increase the burden on healers and medical staff. We had anticipated this to some extent from the moment the patients’ migration was detected by the intelligence network, so the monastic order led by Lucia and the aid organizations had been able to prepare adequately.

But what we hadn’t anticipated were the diseases the patients would bring with them.

Families with cholera using the wells set up in the camp, quietly entering because they feared soldiers might kill them if they discovered they had an infectious disease, mingling with others until they were quarantined because they knew something was wrong but didn’t know what disease they had…

For these and other reasons, several refugee camps faced an untimely pandemic.

As I watched peace-keeping soldiers in protective clothing controlling patients alongside medical staff, some KKK-looking figure approached and started talking to me.

Upon closer inspection, it was a holy knight equipped with CBRN gear.

“Saint! I’m terribly sorry to say this, but… you shouldn’t be here right now. Let’s go to a safe area.”

“How could I possibly leave when there are patients here? I just came out briefly for some fresh air, and I need to return soon.”

“Even so….”

The holy knights seemed worried that Lucia might catch an infectious disease. Feeling sorry for the anxious men, I suggested to Lucia that we move elsewhere, and this time she agreed without raising any objections.

The holy knights quietly thanked me as I left. I waved back at them, and they hurriedly gathered their equipment and walked toward the refugees.

It was quite strange to see religious people handling other duties instead of attending to the saint, but this was the result of Lucia increasingly seeking me out recently.

To be precise, what had increased were her summons. Rather than me visiting someone like a saint who is often sought out by others, it was more convenient for both of us if I, who had freedom of movement, went to her, given how busy she was.

Additionally, when I visited her during her breaks, I could occasionally get good information, so I had a plausible excuse whenever Pippin or Jake grumbled about “why are you slacking off work and going off on your own.”

Of course, most of our conversations were insubstantial—more idle chatter than information exchange.

Well, I didn’t mind since I could take a break from work, but I was slightly puzzled why Lucia, who was swamped with work, would specifically call me during her rest time.

So once I directly asked her, “Why call me instead of just resting?” The image of Lucia blushing and stammering at that time was still vivid.

‘Sh-should I not call you…?’

When Lucia responded like that, I had nothing else to say. From then on, whenever Lucia called, I would put down whatever I was doing and visit her for casual conversation.

As I was walking quietly, lost in old memories, Lucia approached discreetly and cleared her throat.

“Ahem, ahem…. Today, a request for assistance came in from another camp.”

“Assistance?”

“A patient with severe lacerations was brought in, and while emergency treatment was provided, the camp lacks the facilities for surgery. So, the medical staff in charge asked for my help.”

This is serious.

Given that Lucia’s healing skills had been comparable to Veronica’s since childhood, this was natural if expected. The doctors would have done their best, and if other priests had tried without improvement, they would have no choice but to seek the saint’s help.

“Will you have an escort?”

“I understand that Reverend Rebecca, some holy knights, and several combat priests from the Inquisition will accompany me.”

“Combat priests—you mean those who escort inquisitors and exorcists?”

“That’s right.”

Lucia nodded with a gentle smile, and I nodded in return.

With combat priests, inquisitors, and holy knights, I could rest assured. The Papal Office had also instructed them to ensure the saint’s safety, so cultists wouldn’t be able to try anything foolish.

I was about to tell her to travel safely when Lucia cleared her throat and made a careful request.

“So I was wondering… would you perhaps like to come along with me…?”

“Ah, about that….”

I gave an awkward smile.

“I actually have somewhere I need to go urgently. I appreciate the offer, but unfortunately, I can’t.”

“……”

Lucia, who had been avoiding my gaze, now stared at me with a soulless expression.

I felt like sharp triangles were rolling around and stabbing my heart, but there was nothing I could do about it.

*

Though I’m the type whose mouth automatically spouts lies, it seems that even with increased lying, my conscience hasn’t completely disappeared.

Faced with Francesca’s playful questioning and Lucia’s dejected expression, I quickly sought a way to escape the situation.

The method I chose was a retreat with a long and illustrious history.

In other words, running away.

“…Isn’t running away not a solution?”

“How dare you! Are you insulting the teachings of Sun Tzu!”

The Thirty-Six Stratagems, a military treatise completed during the Qing Dynasty in 5th century China, consists of six sections. Each section contains six strategies, making a total of 36 strategies, hence the name “Thirty-Six Stratagems.”

The last stratagem, “If all else fails, retreat,” is interpreted to mean “retreating tactically to preserve one’s forces is not a dishonorable decision.”

However, considering that The Art of War was written in ancient times, and that the concept of tactical retreat is not actually written in Sun Tzu’s work, “the thirty-sixth stratagem is to run away” neither originates from The Art of War nor was it ever claimed by Sun Tzu. Just as Lincoln never said, “Everything you read on the internet is true.”

So the claim “Are you insulting the teachings of Sun Tzu?” is nonsense not even worth considering, but even nonsense can become wisdom if packaged well, and power comes from the barrel of a gun, not from words.

“What crime did you commit against Lucia and Francesca that you’re running away…?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

“Eek! Why are you shouting? You scared me!”

“Let’s go on this business trip quietly. I didn’t even bring motion sickness medicine.”

“…Wait, why are you complaining to me when you’re the one who didn’t bring it?”

“Hmph-“

“Aaaahhhh! Okay! I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet….”

Having successfully reduced Camilla to silence, I sat down on the bunk with my arms crossed.

“It takes about 6 hours to reach the city, so just rest without talking. We need to work as soon as we arrive.”

There are mainly two ways to infiltrate the Necropolis. One is through land. The other is by sea.

The land routes are protected by checkpoints and armed guards, but the sea route has virtually no risk factors except for ship inspections.

To board a ship with permission to enter the Dead Whale Harbor, you need to bribe the shipowner and crew, forge city entry and transit permits, and pay off harbor officials. Apart from these inconveniences, it’s an almost safe infiltration method.

Of course, during the last infiltration, we had to use the land route out of necessity to obtain permits. This was based on Francesca’s advice that forging Necropolis documents would be difficult, so entering by land, though slightly more dangerous, was the more reliable method.

But this time was different.

“Sir, and madam. How was your voyage?”

“Ah, Captain. I was able to rest comfortably thanks to you. The ship is truly excellent.”

“I maintain it with affection to keep it in top condition. We’ll be arriving at the harbor soon. Let’s get ready.”

We had secured not only the ship but also the cooperation of the crew. The vessel, equipped with thoroughly managed entry permits, became our Trojan horse to safely transport us to the Necropolis.

Moreover, we had all the necessary documents to move freely in the city, including transit permits. We had also prepared bribes for harbor officials and convincing identities.

All this was arranged not by me, but by an intelligence agent.

To be precise—

“Stop, stop, stop. Identity check. Please submit your documents. Excuse me, where are you coming from?”

“Palm Tree Trading Company, Nathan Muir.”

“I’m Paloma!”

A magician wearing a cape took out a crystal ball and reported, “Sir and madam, identities confirmed. All clear.” A beastfolk mercenary with a large sword at his waist politely returned our documents and IDs, and I left the ship with a bright smile, saying they were doing a good job.

Camilla, carrying bags in both hands, looked at me as if I were ridiculous.

“Nathan Muir? What are you, a retiring CIA employee?”

“And why did you choose that name, Camilla? Have you watched too many movies?”

“Martini, shaken, not stirred. A timeless classic.”

“Good grief….”

We each carried our luggage to the harbor. Seagulls, rare in the desert, sat on the dock pecking at food, while a pig beastfolk with a fishing rod licked his lips watching a horse beastfolk haul in a big fish.

A man in a suit standing near the gate greeted us with a welcoming expression.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Vereda, manager of the Palm Tree Trading Company branch.”

The suited man bowed politely to us. As he raised his upper body, his dark skin glistened in the sunlight, revealing pointed ears.

He was a dark elf.

Meeting Vereda, who introduced himself as the Necropolis branch manager of the Palm Tree Trading Company, I put down my luggage briefly and offered a handshake. Then, with a bright smile, I asked about the intelligence agent.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vereda. How is Trading Company Head Hormuz doing?”

“Very well. He specifically instructed me to take special care of you all.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary….”

I waved my hand dismissively and picked up my bag again.

“Shall we go then?”

“Yes.”

“This way, please. Madam, please follow me as well.”

“Yay!”

*

On the Mauritanian continent, following the northern coastline, there’s a natural cave harbor—the Port of the Dead Whale.

A man who fell from the window of a dilapidated building picked up a radio.

“…Team leader. One male, one female just disembarked. Ship name is Theba. Owner is the Palm Tree Trading Company.”

A static-filled voice came back through the radio. The man moved his binoculars and responded again.

“They’re currently with Vereda from the Palm Tree Trading Company. They’ve boarded the trading company’s carriage and are moving toward Crassula Obata Street.”

-“I’ll report to the director, so keep watching. Be careful not to cause any unnecessary problems.”

The man, pondering the team leader’s instructions, asked a question.

“What about the rookie?”

-“What’s she doing?”

“……”

The man who took his finger off the radio button turned his gaze. At the end of that line of sight was a woman.

Seemingly aware of his gaze, the woman slowly turned her head, and the man averted his eyes, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.

“She seems to be adapting well. I don’t think there will be any problems.”

-“Alright. Just follow them without her for now.”

“Yes, I’ll report immediately if there’s anything unusual. That’s all.”

The man put the radio in his inner pocket and pulled down his hat. He checked the magazine of his Kiyen Empire military standard pistol, reinserted it, secured the gun at his waistband, and ordered his subordinates.

“Going out. Only two of you follow me, the rest wait here.”

“What should I do?”

The seated woman raised her hand and asked. The man looked at her, thought for a moment, then spoke in a calm voice.

“Rookie, just keep reading the materials I gave you. Ask your mentor if you don’t understand something. And you, don’t be lazy and teach her properly, okay?”

“Come on, senior. How could you think that of me…?”

The mentor tried to protest his innocence, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Colleagues following the man to the entrance began teasing their peer.

“You’re always too sloppy!”

“You must have caused a lot of trouble for the deputy team leader to say that. Just accept it as karma.”

“Hey! Not you guys too!”

“You should have done better. Oh well… I’ll be back. Does our rookie need anything? Big sis will buy it for you.”

“Ah, I’d like some mana herbs if possible…”

“Mana herbs? Well, those are easy to find. Got it! Let me know if you think of anything else!”

“…You don’t even ask me? Always just taking care of the rookie.”

“You’re a grown adult. You were whining about when the rookie would arrive, saying you’d take good care of her, and now suddenly…”

“Hey!”

As his colleagues fled hastily and disappeared beyond the door, the mentor sat down with a dejected expression.

The woman, alternately examining the firmly closed door and the mentor, asked in a careful voice.

“But who arrived today? Isn’t our operation—I mean, our business about something else…?”

“…Oh, yeah. It’s nothing. Just a small task the deputy team leader is handling. It’s simple, so don’t worry about it. Just memorize the materials I gave you.”

“Okay.”

The woman pulled up a chair and began checking the documents again, and the mentor, turning his gaze away from the rookie, secretly lit a cigarette.

Puff—along with the thick smoke, a curse mixed with a sigh escaped.

“Damn… I’ve never seen a case like this before, what the hell am I supposed to do…”

Unfortunately, there was no one to answer his question.

The whitish smoke filled the ceiling, dissolving among the crystals.