Chapter 51

“I-Isto…”

Almoa’s face paled.

“That person… is alive…?”

It was understandable that she’d want to ask that.

I steeled myself and approached Branch Chief Sigurd.

“Branch Chief. Chief Sigurd! It’s Isto Rilos. I’m here to give a follow-up report on the Minigel matter… Are you, uh, alive?”

“Urrrgh…”

The voice was like some half-melted beast. I thought it was strange even as I described it that way myself.

The response was a mess.

The Branch Chief slowly lifted his face.

His eyes were empty.

“Eek…!”

Almoa clung to me, startled.

…He looked awful last time, but this… I didn’t even know how to describe it.

He seemed past terrible—more like he’d given up on being human.

“Branch Chief Sigurd, I’ve come to make a report.”

My words seemed to stir him, and Sigurd, who looked like a freshly made zombie, gradually regained his usual expression.

The way he revived, as if absorbing water, was impressive.

“Ah, it’s you, Isto. Thank you for coming.”

“Yes. Um, are you all right?”

“I am very much not all right… heh.”

He murmured briefly before his head dropped with a thud. Almoa let out another startled scream and shrank back.

I tentatively offered,

“If you’re having such a hard time, I can come back another day…”

“No, it’s fine. Just wait a moment.”

His voice was muffled as he lay slumped over his desk, sounding as if he might fall asleep any second.

Yet…

He continued to move his hand, writing on the documents.

…Wait. How is he signing so accurately without even looking at the papers?

He seemed to have the skill of a puppet whose hands and eyes worked independently. I never knew humans could have such a skill.

The documents were neatly organized with impressive speed. Was this even real?

“What? What is with this person…”

Almoa was completely shaken.

To reassure her, I told her,

“This is Sigurd Ronio, head of the Guild Union branch here in Wigarlus.”

“Is ‘graduating from being human’ a requirement to be the Guild Union’s top official…?”

What a strange qualification.

Then again, given his state, I could understand why she’d think that.

I remembered the troubled look on the receptionist’s face.

“The Branch Chief is a bit tired today, so he may cause you some trouble,” she’d told me.

But could we even call this “a bit tired”?

It was baffling.

I watched the human mystery that was Branch Chief Sigurd for a while, then something in the documents caught my eye and held my attention.

Is that the adventurers’ member list? And that over there looks like a workflow chart.

And that one… a funding estimate?

“Branch Chief, is there another large-scale extermination operation underway?”

Sigurd’s hand froze.

Branch Chief Sigurd’s skill is “Dream Vision,” essentially foresight.

If he was drawing up mobilization plans in a state that looked like he hadn’t slept for days, I had to ask.

“Did you foresee another incident?”

“Ugh… uhhh… a-aah…”

“A-aah…? What does that mean? Is it significant?”

Given the gravity, I asked seriously.

Almoa gave me a look that said, “Isto’s finally lost it too,” which stung a bit.

The Branch Chief pointed at a different desk.

Turning, I saw a row of water jugs lined up.

Is he asking me to fetch one?

The jugs looked quite fancy.

Curious, I opened the lid of one and peeked inside.

…Gah!

What is that smell!?

Every jug reeked horribly!

“He’s saying to mix them all and bring it over… his hand is…”

Almoa reported, trembling as she clung to me.

The Branch Chief, perpetually sleep-deprived, kept these in his office and now wanted them, possibly some kind of stimulant.

Maybe mixing various kinds together would give him the most effective dose.

Is he really going to drink this?

The jug was oddly heavy.

Treating it like an ordinary liquid could lead to disaster.

I glanced at Almoa.

Just in case, I asked,

“Almoa, do you want to try?”

“I’d rather die here.”

Yeah, fair enough. My bad. So stop digging your nails into me—it hurts. Sorry.

I somehow endured the smell and poured roughly equal amounts from the five jugs into a cup.

The viscosity was insane, beyond sticky.

For the first time, I saw a drink that changed color over time.

Is he really going to drink this? Seriously?

When I finished mixing, the smell mysteriously vanished, which was terrifying in its own right. Carefully, carefully, I carried the cup to Chief Sigurd’s desk.

Spilling this could be deadly—that was the level of pressure I felt.

“H-here you go.”

“Ugh…”

A hand slowly moved, grasping the cup.

Then his upper body rose, and the hollow-eyed figure with a possessed look devoured the contents.

“Guh-hu-hoooooooo!”

“Kyaaa! I can’t take this anymore!”

Sigurd raged wildly.

Almoa trembled in fear.

Please, calm down.

What did I even come here for…?