Editing The Unexplored Summon Blood Sign:Volume6 Chapter3 (section)

===Part 2===

Dawn arrived and the gentle morning sun conquered the Milky Way.

“…”

With her long and wavy blonde hair spread out and wearing only a thin red negligee with a spritz of rose perfume, The Saint slowly sat up on an extra-large bed in a suite. She then worked her groggy mind to remember why she was in a luxury hotel.

She had heard what had happened at the zoo. With their position of absolute safety overturned and with Azalea Magentarain and many other members lost, she and their remaining forces had quickly left their hideout using the haunted house’s back door. Losers of the summoning ceremony could not keep a secret even if they were not tortured. Once their location was known, Government and Illegal would pour in with great numbers.

Needless to say, if it came to an all-out conflict, they could take on all three major powers stationed in Toy Dream 35. But they were only a bridesmaid for the pure white bride, so their great power was meant to add to her beauty.

It was out of the question for The Saint to protect herself with the treasures gathered for the Queen.

So she had chosen a swift retreat despite the difference in strength.

That was their unique way of thinking.

(Well, I’m sure there are some of our recruits who are afraid of revealing a personal weakness if they come into conflict with summoners from their old organizations.)

The Saint slowly got her mind working.

(And if the multiple organizations bring together their sources, they might reveal that we drove some of their groups to failure in order to recruit them.)

Even their personnel were gifts for the White Queen. They could not allow those celebratory gifts to be marred even slightly by any petty discord now.

Toy Dream 35 was a bankrupt regional city that was trying to recover as an amusement park. They needed to serve a great number of tourists, so there were plenty of lodging facilities. Staying at a suite under a fake name did not stand out here.

The reports from the scene had been fragmentary and inadequate, but she had heard that a pure white flash had been seen at the end. Did that mean someone had used the Summoning ceremony to carve out the name of the peak of the peak? Or…?

“Phew.”

Whatever the case, Bridesmaid had lost everything: the Diamond Master Key, the Golden Treasure Chest, and the ancient map. They did not have a single one of the hints needed to reach the Founder’s Gallery. And Azalea could have best made use of the Gallery’s information, but she had been defeated and could not be contacted.

But the Founder’s Gallery was not the only way of approaching the White Queen. Perhaps she needed to focus on regrouping their remaining forces, give up on the Gallery, and work at another method.

(No, I can’t.)

But The Saint rejected that idea.

With anything else, it would not have mattered, but things were different when they had to do with the White Queen.

(Bridesmaid must not pull our hand back from Her Majesty and turn the other way.)

That dark and cold flame had yet to be extinguished.

Her ability to make this decision may have been a sign of her faith.



“Nn…”

Meanwhile, a small boy of about 10 stirred in the same bed. The Saint’s movement had woken him.

The boy was simply known as the boy.

He was The Saint’s vessel, but he was not received coldly. For one thing, there was no clear master and servant between the two of them. But not because they both respected each other and gave them that privilege. There truly was “nothing” there.

“Oh, it’s morning… Should we do ''that'' then?”

Wearing only a thin red slip that gave off a rosy scent, The Saint reached for a coin on the bedside table. But this was not a tip for the room’s cleaner. Reaching toward the bedside table caused one of the slip’s shoulder straps to fall down her arm, but the woman who could be called a sensual holy woman or a pure witch did not mind.

The Saint flipped the coin with her thumb and placed it on the back of her hand.

They both peered down at it.

“…Tails.”

The change was dramatic.

The Saint rolled out of the large bed, got down on one knee, and bowed her head. Conversely, the boy slowly placed his feet on the floor and calmly stood up.

This was their daily ritual.

A flip of the coin determined everything. Heads and The Saint was master for the day; tails and the boy was. They would not resent whichever result they received.

“Good morning, master. Breakfast…would be difficult to prepare in a hotel. We can call room service for that, so I will prepare a bath for now.”

The boy waved a hand while toying with the egg-shaped GPS security buzzer he wore as a restraint for mental stability. With permission granted, The Saint crossed the wide room and entered the next room while wearing a slip that left her legs exposed all the way up to the base of her thighs.

The boy worked his sleepy mind to think on the situation.

In truth, the boy did not particularly care if The Saint was a holy woman, a witch, his master, or his servant. He only wanted to be with her, no matter what form it took. Or to put it another way, he had no interest in the past or future and he simply wanted the “present” to continue forever.

Ultimately, this perfectly ordinary boy did not even care about the White Queen. He just knew that failing to pursue her would lead that woman to leave him and would destroy the “present”, so he went along with it. He had a special kind of stagnant mentality that refused to think even a second into the future, but in a way, he may have had the strongest mind of all. Even in the face of that pure white, he was able to stay true to himself without being dyed by longing or hatred.

The Saint returned with her bright thighs still bared.

“I never realized that a large bathtub would have its own problems. It will probably take about 20 minutes to fill.”

“Nn.”

“What would you like to do until then? You could always take just a shower first.”

He shook his head at that. If they had time to wait, there was something he wanted to get done in that time.

He pointed the summoner toward the window and they sat at the same table there. Spread out on the table were the fragmentary reports from the tragedy at the zoo early that morning.

The boy glanced through the reports as casually as someone reading through an English language newspaper with breakfast. The Saint seemed focused on where Shiroyama Kyousuke and Sekurtiti had gone, but the boy thought pursuing them would be a waste of time. Both enemy and ally had shown up at the zoo for the exchange. They would have covered their tracks when leaving, so there would be nothing to pursue.

“Here.” The boy tapped at one of the reports on the table. “The others couldn’t pick up everything they said, but a certain name shows up at a few points in what we have: Claude Magentarain. It seems odd that both Azalea and Shiroyama brought him up.”

“Are you suggesting one or both sides are sheltering that person? The Magentarain name is concerning, but Azalea is something of a heretic in her family.”

“That isn’t the important part.” The boy pointed at a spot on another page. “No one ever did see the Diamond Master Key that night. The report suggests that Shiroyama didn’t want to give it up, but then this doesn’t make any sense.”

“…That he temporarily handed over Sekurtiti?”

“Shiroyama’s response to the Offering Team is proof enough that he prioritizes human life, so it doesn’t make sense that he offered the ancient map before the key.”

“But wasn’t that his method of retrieving Meinokawa Higan?”

“…Has anyone proven that?”

Shiroyama Kyousuke had never once brought out the Diamond Master Key. What if that was not due to reluctance or as part of a plan? What if he had some pressing reason preventing him from doing so?

And if both Shiroyama and Azalea did not have the key, where was it now?

“Claude Magentarain. We need to look into him.”

“Understood.”

This clearly ran counter to The Saint’s intent to directly pursue Shiroyama Kyousuke or Azalea, but she did not protest. That intent had been yesterday’s way of thinking and it no longer applied thanks to the coin toss.

“Hopefully, he’ll have the key. But even if he doesn’t, capturing him should force both Shiroyama and Azalea to act. He will make a good starting point.”

“Your discerning eye never ceases to amaze me. Losing Azalea and the Natural History’s missing entries is unfortunate, but that is not what Bridesmaid truly seeks. In order to more perfectly learn what Her Majesty likes and to become even better servants, let us continue our pursuit of the Founder’s Gallery. Oh, it would seem the bath is ready.”

After hearing a light beeping, the woman in the red slip lifted her butt from the chair. The boy watched her and also thought to himself.

The possible presence of the master key was only secondary to him. He was not actually interested in the White Queen, so he was equally disinterested in the Founder’s Gallery and the Natural History’s missing entries. His focus was on something else: Claude Magentarain.

That boy who loved the “present” could intuitively tell that man would bring about some kind of major change. Ignoring him could easily lead to losing that woman.