Chapter 108: Hero Festival – Part 2 (1)

The Operations Headquarters was a modest and small building.

Its appearance was hardly distinguishable from the other shop buildings nearby.

No, it probably was an actual shop building. After all, Hife was only held once a year, so it was likely used for other purposes during the rest of the year.

As the festival approached, they would simply lend the space for a day.

Passing by the numerous red-robed individuals working inside, Sion and the Inquisitor climbed up to the second floor.

They entered a room with a temporary nameplate reading “Reception Room.”

Once the two sat facing each other around the central table, a secretary standing nearby promptly brought out tea as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

The tea was clear and faintly hued.

“This is a beverage called white tea. It is brewed from the youngest, unopened buds of the tea plant. It’s said to be a prized delicacy from a far eastern country across the sea, Gongeon.”

Sion gazed absentmindedly at the steaming tea, then turned her head back to the Inquisitor.

Sensing Sion’s gaze, the Inquisitor raised an eyebrow in question.

“Why do you ask? Are you not a fan of tea?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m more curious about how long you plan to keep wearing that mask.”

A rather sharp remark.

The Inquisitor burst into hearty laughter at this, raised his thick hand, and removed the iron mask covering his face.

The revealed visage was that of a man in his 40s, with a dignified and mature air that matched his voice.

It was a face that bore the dense marks of time’s meticulous craftsmanship, exuding gravitas.

“My apologies. I’ve grown so accustomed to wearing this appearance that I unconsciously committed a discourtesy. Conversations are meant to be conducted face to face, after all.

Are you satisfied now?”

“……”

Instead of replying, Sion took a sip of the tea.

It was excellent, washing down the throat and chest in a single, refreshing sweep.

“Does it suit your taste?”

“Yes, it’s quite good.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. I worried about how I would atone if I failed to properly serve such a distinguished hero.”

The Inquisitor spoke, then sipped his own tea. Meanwhile, the masked secretary quietly stepped back and stood in a distant corner.

Sion observed the Inquisitor’s face with a careful, searching gaze.

“… Why do you stare so intently?”

“No, it’s just…”

She paused, choosing her words carefully while scrutinizing the man.

“Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t strike me as someone suited to managing a whimsical and frivolous event like this.

Based on your air of experience alone, I wouldn’t be surprised if you held a knight commander position in a count’s territory somewhere.

But here you are, working in this remote place wearing a ridiculous mask and robe. It’s quite curious.”

“Haha, you flatter me.”

The man smiled faintly.

“I’m merely an ordinary mercenary. I’ve simply spent a bit more time weathering the sands of life than most.

As for why I’m here, it’s simply because I was hired to be.”

“Hired?”

“Yes. The person who hired me is someone you’re well acquainted with.”

“Someone I know well?”

Who could it be? The twins, perhaps?

Naturally, Sion thought of the duo, Therese and Marianne.

However, she was startled by the Inquisitor’s next revelation.

“The one who hired me is none other than the principal of Anatolia. She requested that I ‘monitor this place to ensure it doesn’t cross too many lines.’”

“Mana?”

An unexpected name.

She had heard that Mana permitted the festival to take place, but to think she was involved this deeply.

On second thought, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.

Mana likely wouldn’t ignore how she and her companions were being portrayed here.

It wasn’t unthinkable that she attempted to exert some control through a proxy in secret.

Though how effective that control had been was questionable.

“Hmm.”

Sion placed her teacup down and spoke.

“You said you’re here to ensure boundaries aren’t crossed, but I find that difficult to understand.

Is it really acceptable to arbitrarily depict the emotions of heroes who saved the continent, and even go so far as to create explicit sexual depictions of them?

Exia, for instance, said she wasn’t even aware such portrayals of her existed.”

-“Uh… huh?”

Behind them, Exia, who had been quietly shrinking back under the weight of the atmosphere, let out a foolish sound.

She clearly hadn’t expected the focus to shift to her.

But only briefly. Recalling what she had seen earlier, she raised her voice in anger.

-“That’s right! I had no idea those awful stories were circulating out there! If I’d known, I never, ever would’ve allowed it!

How could anyone publish such fantasies publicly without even saying a word to the person involved? Shame on you!”

“For that, I have no excuse. I am truly sorry.”

The Inquisitor closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“However, if I may add a defense, we didn’t intend to deliberately keep it from Lady Exia. Early in the festival’s history, I visited the temple six or seven times to seek her permission.

But each time, Lady Exia was… asleep.”

-“…What?”

Exia pursed her lips. Sion narrowed her eyes slightly and looked at her.

-‘Is that true?’

-‘Um… I don’t know. Is it? I don’t remember at all.

Well… I do spend most of my time sleeping since it’s boring seeing the same scenery for 500 years…’

-‘When was the last time you activated your consciousness before I showed up?’

-‘About… 70 years ago?’

-‘You absolute blockhead!’

Sure enough, tracing it back revealed that this was her fault.

How could anyone get her permission if she wouldn’t wake up?

Truly, the term “source of all trouble” wasn’t wasted on her.

Sion let out a small sigh and turned back to the Inquisitor.

“Even so, what you’ve done is still far from praiseworthy.

For at least the past eight years that I’ve been with Exia, you could have come by at any time. And just because you didn’t get a response before doesn’t mean that constitutes tacit approval. Isn’t that right?”

“You are absolutely correct. I apologize.

It seems we were blinded by profit and failed to follow proper procedures. I sincerely regret our actions.”

The man bowed his head deeply.

His willingness to apologize immediately without dragging things out wasn’t a bad sign.

At least it showed that dialogue was possible.

The real question now was whether this would lead to meaningful improvement…

As the two regarded each other, the secretary approached again to refill their tea.

Sion sipped her white tea and spoke.

“I’m not here to outright suppress creativity. Hearts are like balloons—if you press them down, they’ll just swell in another direction.

I only hope that a basic sense of propriety is maintained, at least in public spaces.”

“I’ll listen. What would you suggest?”

“First and foremost,” Sion said, raising a finger.

“Explicit sexual depictions are out. All adult content involving Lady Lier and his companions must be removed.

It’s absolutely unacceptable for heroes worthy of respect to be reduced to mere tools for satisfying lust.”

“Does this apply even to cases where sexual relationships are not the main theme but are included as a side element?”

“Of course. There’s no need to include such scenes at all, is there? Tell them to leave it out.

While it may not be possible to stop people from creating and sharing such works privately, allowing them to surface publicly is something I cannot tolerate under any circumstances.”

The Inquisitor nodded, his expression steady.

Sion raised another finger.

“And second, regulate all portrayals of homosexuality. Whether it’s between men or women, treat them equally.

Although society has grown more tolerant over time, the term ‘homosexual’ is still often used as a slur.

I’m certain the ancient heroes would not appreciate being depicted as homosexuals.

At the very least, I strongly dislike it. I sincerely do.”

“If your creations truly come ‘from a place of respect,’ I hope you will honor this as well. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

The man nodded again.

“Regulating adult content and depictions of homosexuality. Shall I add these to the guidelines for future festivals?”

“Yes. That is all I ask for now.”

Though tempted to demand more, Sion refrained. Excessive demands could damage her reputation—and, by extension, Sien’s.

It was better to focus on eliminating only the most egregiously offensive elements, those likely to garner public support and sympathy.

“……”

Feeling somewhat relieved, Sion lifted her teacup again, this time intending to properly savor its flavor.

But just as she brought the cup to her lips, she froze.

“…….”

“?!”

The abrupt stillness in Sion’s demeanor drew a questioning look from the Inquisitor.

“Is something the matter? Do you have more to say?”

“No… it’s nothing.”

Sion’s gaze was fixed on the tea held in the Inquisitor’s hands, her eyes deep with thought.

After about five seconds of unnatural silence, Sion finally spoke.

“Inquisitor.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever suffered an injury, such as having both arms severed?”

“?”

The man tilted his head, puzzled.

“No, nothing of the sort has ever happened. Why do you ask?”

“Is that so…”

Sion closed her eyes briefly.

And a second later, she set down her tea and, with lightning speed, drew Exia and swung it left and right.

Slash!

“!?”

In an instant, the man’s body was split in two by the blade, his lower half severed.

A look of shock crossed his face as he inhaled sharply.

The crimson spray of blood splattered across Sion’s face, but she paid no heed.

Rising swiftly, she swung Exia again, carving the man into seventeen pieces before he could even lift a finger.

Chunks of flesh hit the floor with a sickening thud.

-“Wh-What the hell are you doing?!!”

The scream didn’t come from the man or the masked secretary in the corner, but from the sword itself.

Exia’s voice rang out, full of shock and disbelief.

-“Are you insane?! Why would you—”

“Be quiet.”

Sion growled, her tone low and dangerous.

She pointed the tip of her sword at what was now a heap of flesh.

“Don’t make a fuss. Look at the cross-sections. Examine the internal organs.”

-“The organs? What do you—”

Exia, about to retort, fell silent as her gaze fell upon the remains.

Inside the man’s body, there were no organs—no heart, no lungs, no intestines. Instead, processed mana stones were embedded throughout.

Even the blood, on closer inspection, was not quite the right color.

It bore a hue closer to alchemical blood.

Could it be?

-“This man… was a golem?”

“Exactly.”

Sion rested Exia on her shoulder, answering coolly.

-“At first, I didn’t notice. He spoke, acted, and moved so naturally that there was no hint of anything amiss.

But then I noticed something odd about the hands holding the tea.”

-“Odd? What do you mean?”

“The length of the fingernails,” Sion said, picking up one of the severed hands from the floor.

“Each nail is precisely 2.1 centimeters long—from the thumb to the pinky. And this is true for both hands.

The folds and creases on the skin are identical on both sides, as though one hand was perfectly cloned from the other.

That kind of symmetry is impossible for any naturally born being.”

She tossed the hand behind her with a flick of her wrist.

“That leaves two possibilities. Either both hands were prosthetics made in the same workshop, or his entire body was artificial.

But he denied having prosthetic limbs, and his movements were far too fluid to suggest grafted arms.

That leaves only one answer: his entire body was crafted—he was a golem.”

Sion’s sharp eyes shifted to the masked secretary, who stood frozen in the corner.

“Your craftsmanship has improved over the past 500 years. I’ll give you that much.

But my eyes are not so easily fooled. Your pursuit of perfection was your undoing.”

“…..”

Her voice dropped its usual polite veneer, adopting an air of arrogance and disdain.

There were only two beings in the world to whom Sion spoke in such a tone:

One, of course, was Exia. The other—

“I’ll give you ten seconds.”

Her voice was low and threatening as she continued.

“Drop the disguise and explain this nonsense right now, Mana.”

Beads of sweat glistened on the back of the secretary’s hand.