On the other side of Ikerite, heavy, dark clouds were on the verge of blotting out the royal capital's skyline.
In the roadside cafés, people gathered by the windows cradling warm cups of coffee, gazing dreamily out at the curtain of rain. Mingled with the soft jazz playing inside, the sound of the downpour made the indoors feel exceptionally warm and cozy against the storm.
The sudden deluge washed relentlessly over the streets, raindrops tapping against the lamps with rhythmic clicks. The rain weighed heavily upon the leaves and branches of the trees, while passersby ducked into nearby shops or scurried under umbrellas, hurrying to find shelter from the storm.
Two streets away from Ikerite Academy, at Boss Cat Restaurant, the wind chime beneath the eaves was soaked with rain, swaying in the breeze and giving off a lower, deeper ring than usual.
The restaurant's door pushed open and closed from time to time. Everything appeared quite peaceful, with only a scattering of patrons sitting in the corners leisurely enjoying their breakfast.
Behind the counter, a waitress wiped down glassware, head bowed in concentration. An antique chandelier cast a warm yellow glow, adding a touch of coziness to the compact space.
"Why hasn't Boss Cat come back yet...?"
The waitress looked up at the wall clock and murmured.
Although breakfast was not the restaurant's primary focus, the weather had brought in more patrons than usual.
If Boss Cat didn't return soon, she might not be able to keep up with both taking orders and serving food by herself, which meant she would have to go upstairs and ask Miss Tata for help again.
Then again, Miss Tata seemed to be sleeping in today; it was already ten o'clock, yet there was still no sign of her coming downstairs.
Glancing out the window, the waitress quickly found it understandable.
Rain fell on the eaves, pitter-pattering in a continuous, rhythmic background cadence. Water gathered on the roof to form a miniature cascade dripping down along the overhang.
In weather like this, anyone would just want to stay indoors and laze around all day.
If possible, she didn't want to trouble Tata either; she only hoped that cat, drenched into a soggy little coal ball by the storm, would hurry back.
"Number seventeen is ready."
A voice from the kitchen snapped the waitress back to reality, and she briskly stepped toward the pass-through window.
She lightly lifted a white porcelain plate bearing an exquisitely prepared meal: a golden-fried chicken cutlet paired with a vibrant fruit salad and accented with a few drops of pale yellow lemon juice. A selection of accompanying sauces served in separate dishes allowed the customer to customize the flavor of each bite.
Her stride was both graceful and capable.
She walked toward a table near the aisle on the restaurant's side. A young man was quietly sipping his coffee and admiring the scenery outside the window, as though waiting for something.
Although he had handsome features, an utterly unassuming demeanor kept him from drawing any real attention.
As the waitress approached, the young man finally looked up with an expectant smile.
"Your chicken cutlet salad, sir," the waitress said gently, setting the plate lightly onto the table.
"Thank you."
The youth nodded in gratitude to the waitress, then turned his gaze toward the delicate dish.
Returning behind the counter, the waitress could tell that this patron was not a regular. Still, his shoulders and the hem of his coat were wet with rain—just like many others in the shop, he seemed to be a casual passerby who had ducked in to order something and rest from the foul weather.
Silence settled over the restaurant once more, broken only by the sound of rain outside and the soothing music within, as peaceful as ever.
The young man slowly opened the cloth cutlery pouch on the table and drew out an exquisite silver knife and fork.
Even though he looked no different from the typical Ikerite Academy students who frequented the place, the way he ate his meal betrayed an unusual degree of meticulous refinement, as precise as performing surgery.
Spreading his napkin across his lap, he began carving into the chicken cutlet before him with knife and fork, piercing only a small piece each time. Once it entered his mouth, he savored every nuance until it was thoroughly chewed.
Next, he used his knife to gently slice off a piece of a fresh croissant, spread a layer of pale butter over it, and carefully lifted it into his mouth.
He treated his coffee with the same reverence.
Instead of drinking it hastily, he took in its aroma first before savoring a tiny sip.
Every move he made was calm and precise, naturally and wholly immersed in the process, savoring this meal that served as both breakfast and lunch.
About ten minutes passed, and only a third of the food before him had disappeared, yet his pace looked entirely natural to any observer.
He was indeed waiting for a young lady.
Except that she was the target he intended to kill.
He was certain that the duke's daughter, Lady Hyperion, was right upstairs in this very building.
She seemed to have reaped substantial gains from the second Shadow World, finally moving out of the academy's dorms to live off-campus.
That was not unusual; some Ikerite Academy students rarely stayed in the school dormitories, opting instead to live in their private residences most of the time.
Originally, his only puzzle had been why a duke's daughter would choose this place.
Yet now that he had tasted the food at Boss Cat Restaurant for himself, he understood. There was indeed good reason for her choice.
"Sir, how is everything?"
Having served another patron, the waitress passed by the young man's table again. Noticing the faint, contented smile on his face, she asked.
His seat was close to the aisle, meaning that anyone walking toward the entrance—such as to the counter—would pass right beside him.
"Very satisfied. If I have the chance in the future, I will certainly come again."
The young man nodded with a gentle, amiable expression.
Though words to that effect left his lips, it was a pity.
There would likely be no such chance.
Today would probably be this establishment's final day in business.
His outward identity was Phoenix, a second-year student at Aloran Royal Academy who lived with and depended on his younger sister, Phyllis.
In reality, he was an elite cultist lurking in the mortal world, pledged in absolute loyalty to the Bishop of Destruction—an operative who would never be deployed under normal circumstances.
Ordinarily, he remained under a state of deep self-hypnosis, completely unaware that he was even a Resurrection Church cultist.
Only when he received orders, or encountered an opportunity to execute his mission, would he awaken himself.
To assassinate Lady Hyperion—or, even failing that, to drive her into a fatal trap and thoroughly shatter relations between the two kingdoms—he was the sole, ideal candidate.
Hyperion was in the open while he lurked in the dark. As a fifth-tier combatant, Phoenix was confident that a close-range ambush would force out whatever life-saving cards she possessed.
And this time, he had not only brought a barrier to lock down the terrain and gear to see through invisibility, but also carried two spells bestowed upon him by the Bishop of Destruction.
[Grand Puppet Theater]
[Category: Spell Card]
[Rarity: Pink Sacred]
[Tier: 4]
[Effect: Can only be used on Tier 1 targets. Controls the actions of all targets within a 100-meter radius. The more targets controlled, the longer the duration, and the more complex their actions, the greater the mental strain and mana consumption imposed upon the caster. Cooldown: 24 hours.]
[Description: A tranquil death holds no dramatic tension.]
In the setting of a restaurant, this spell—largely useless in ordinary combat—could easily pin the blame for a civilian massacre squarely on Hyperion.
Furthermore, Hyperion would never slaughter innocent civilians without cause, so when faced with civilians suddenly launching deranged sneak attacks and disruptions, her hands would be completely tied.
This was a favorite game of the Bishop of Destruction. Even when he could easily overpower an opponent on his own, he loved roping civilians into the fight against them, reveling in the sight of righteous, noble champions breaking down in impotent fury and despair as they accidentally struck down one civilian after another.
As for the second spell—
[Spark of Destruction]
[Category: Spell Card]
[Rarity: Pink Sacred]
[Tier: 5]
[Passive Effect: Upon the bearer's death, triggers an immensely violent, catastrophic fire explosion.]
[Description: The multi-kill spectacle is headlined by me.]
It would ensure that Hyperion met her demise today without fail.
At the same time, it was also the death sentence the Bishop of Destruction had bestowed upon him.
Today, this restaurant and the innocent customers inside would, without exception, be buried alongside the duke's daughter.
Then again, could they truly be called innocent?
Phoenix smiled faintly, a touch of mockery lingering in his calm gaze.
Much like a natural disaster had no eyes, these commoners were merely chosen by the Grim Reaper. Nothing more.
If anyone was to blame, it could only be the duke's daughter for choosing this place.
For an omen of calamity, simply being alive was her sin.
Had she just died earlier on her own, she wouldn't have brought doom to all these bystanders who had nothing to do with her.
Chapter 190