"Ach—choo~~~!"
Lock rubbed his nose, frowning slightly.
That was strange.
He had long since gained complete resistance to cold. Catching a chill was impossible. That left only one explanation—
Someone was cursing him.
How unfair. In this day and age, even a handsome man like him—just like the esteemed readers—could still be the target of petty curses.
Lock glanced sideways.
Behind him, Clementine was following with an extremely sour expression, staring at his back as if she wanted to bite a chunk out of it.
…Suspicious.
"Hmph," Lock snorted inwardly.
"A mere curse thinks it can affect a hundred-level being? Dream on."
Putting that aside, today's unexpected encounter with Climb and the clash with Blue Rose hadn't disrupted his plans in any meaningful way.
"Enough distractions," Lock murmured.
"Time to work."
Target: Eight Fingers
Lock reviewed the information from the original timeline.
The reason he brought Vier out today was never sightseeing—it was to locate Eight Fingers.
Within the Royal Capital, the easiest department to trace was the slave trading division.
Ever since the Golden Princess forcefully promoted the abolition of slavery, this department had been hit hardest. At present, only one underground brothel was still operating.
Coincidentally, a certain Royal Capital inspector—deeply entangled with Eight Fingers—was a frequent customer there.
Lock fully believed the man would be more than happy to "guide" him, given the right pressure.
Just as Lock was about to head toward the Inspector's Office—
A commotion erupted ahead.
Gasps echoed from a growing crowd.
Lock paused, then walked closer with Vier and Clementine.
At the center, several ruffians were viciously beating a small boy—apparently because the child had dirtied their clothes.
"…This scene," Lock muttered.
Before he could finish—
A white-haired old man in a butler's uniform glided through the crowd with ghostlike speed and appeared before the thugs in an instant.
Sebas.
Lock recognized him immediately.
One of Nazarick's max-level NPCs—and one of the very few with a genuinely positive justice alignment.
True to his nature, Sebas intervened without hesitation.
Lock watched as the old butler dropped the ruffians with precise, overwhelming strikes, nodding faintly.
"I approve," he thought calmly.
He wasn't a saint—but anyone who hated injustice deserved respect.
An Unavoidable Encounter
"Hey! Are you alright!?"
From the crowd, a blond boy rushed forward and helped the injured child up.
Climb.
He quickly produced a healing potion, splashing half over the boy and feeding him the rest once the wounds stabilized.
Lock raised an eyebrow.
"…So fate still insists on this meeting?"
He had assumed that after interfering with Blue Rose—and incidentally knocking Climb out earlier—this encounter wouldn't occur.
Yet here it was.
In the entire story, Climb's greatest "value" was being the Golden Princess's pet.
But the person who truly shaped his growth—
Was Sebas.
Through Sebas, Climb would later learn Brain Burst, barely scratching the limits of his talent.
But Lock wasn't interested in Climb.
What he cared about was this—
Would Sebas still take in Tsuare, thus linking Eight Fingers directly to Nazarick?
As Sebas and Climb departed separately, Lock immediately spoke:
"Vier. Discreetly monitor that butler. Do not let him notice."
"…Understood," Vier replied, without questioning the order.
Tracking the Thread
The trio rented a room at a nearby inn.
The waiter's look said everything: You really know how to enjoy yourselves.
Once inside, Vier deployed reconnaissance and counter-surveillance magic.
Sebas's movements appeared clearly.
What followed unfolded exactly as in the original flow.
Sebas sheltered Tsuare, a prostitute discarded by Eight Fingers.
His excessive purchases of magic scrolls attracted attention.
The slave department head and the corrupt inspector reacted.
Assassins were dispatched.
Naturally, they were eliminated with ease.
Sebas decided to uproot the problem entirely and moved to the brothel himself.
Since Brain was already under Lock's command and Climb was far too weak, Sebas refused Climb's request to follow and instead sent him to seek the city guards.
Soon, Sebas arrived at a large residence hidden in a quiet residential district.
Lock watched silently.
"…That's the place."
Entering the Den
"Vier, let's move."
Lock opened a portal without hesitation.
The three stepped through and reappeared in front of the same building.
The iron gate lay torn off and discarded to the side.
Lock raised an eyebrow.
"Refined," he thought.
"If it were me, that gate would've been reduced to scrap."
Inside, a mangled corpse blocked the stairwell—courtesy of Sebas.
Lock stepped over it without slowing, carefully avoiding the filth.
The upper floors were merely a cover.
The real brothel was underground.
He retrieved a small magical compass.
After a brief hum, it pointed decisively.
Lock pressed a subtle protrusion on the wall.
Click.
The wall split open, revealing a hidden stairway.
"Two escape routes," Lock smiled faintly.
"Eight Fingers never disappoints."
Descending first, he led the others down.
Blood and Screams
They emerged into an open underground chamber.
Seven or eight armed thugs turned sharply.
"Who are—"
"Clementine."
"No questions."
Lock didn't bother finishing.
The short swords flashed.
Clementine became a blur.
Screams erupted. Blood sprayed. Steel sang.
For her, it was music.
"Don't linger," Lock said calmly.
"Catch up when you're done."
Ignoring the massacre behind him, Lock moved deeper.
Waiting for the Big Fish
He entered a warehouse-like space filled with crates.
This place.
In the original timeline, Climb would encounter Aenpe Itivea and Shakyulont here.
Lock leaned casually against a crate.
"Perfect," he thought.
"Now… we wait."
Time passed.
Screams echoed faintly behind him, mixed with Clementine's twisted laughter.
Just as his patience thinned—
Thud.
A crate panel fell open.
From the hidden passage stepped two men.
One effeminate, pale, eyes darting nervously—
Aenpe Itivea, head of the slave department.
The other bore a long facial scar, his presence ominous—
Shakyulont, the Phantom Demon of Six Arms.
Lock opened his eyes.
"…Finally."
The trap had closed.
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