As Reynard exited the room, the atmosphere shifted from tense to oddly casual. The directors exchanged glances, each reacting differently to the exchange.
It was quite high from where they stood that it looked impractical in a courtroom hearing, but it was in fact a precaution. No way any 'defendant' could easily cross that gap if they decided on a more nuclear option after being caught.
Atropos crossed her arms with a stoic expression, yet tinged with an undercurrent of turmoil. Reynard's behavior troubled her. It wasn't the amnesia he claimed or the strange familiarity he had insisted upon when he exchanged eyes seconds ago—it was the transactional nature of his demeanor. He was using her. That much seemed clear. The realization didn't surprise her; it simply solidified the chasm between who they had once been and who they had become.
Bob let out a booming laugh, the sound breaking the silence like a hammer. "Hahahaha~! What an interesting guy, isn't he? What is he? Like five years younger than me?" He slammed his desk as if he was having fun. He was clearly entertained.
Dr. Yamada rubbed his neck nervously, his usual smugness absent. "So scary… I think he wanted to kill me."
Maurice shot him a sidelong glance, shaking his head in exasperation. "You shouldn't have provoked him. Why'd you say that?"
Klein leaned back with a mischievous grin, his albino complexion practically glowing under the harsh lights. "Ahahaha~! Don't worry, I actually asked the doc to say that to him, so it isn't like the doctor had gone insane." He waved off Maurice's concern with a carefree flick of his hand. "Trust me, Doc, you won't get killed over it. You're a doctor—that's like a shield of morality, right?"
Dr. Yamada's face twisted into a reluctant grimace. "You're giving me the thing, right? Like you promised?" Whatever dealing had gone, the 'thing' in question was definitely of 'adult' nature.
Maurice groaned, his dark complexion darkening further as he massaged his temples. "What the hell? That's your 'price'? Seriously? Still, that Reynard… That guy's aura is weird. I can't tell if I should be scared or not. Is his aura control just that good, or is it actually that ordinary?"
Atropos finally stirred, her voice cold but even. "Reynard's aura isn't ordinary. It's… mutated. You feel nothing because it is too different to our senses."
Her words silenced the group momentarily. Bob grinned, as if he had figured it out before anyone else. Maurice frowned, visibly uneasy, while Klein's grin merely widened, his curiosity piqued further.
As the conversation shifted back to casual banter, Atropos remained still, her mind distant. Reynard's parting words lingered. Until then, sister…
The words were simple, but the tone was cutting. It wasn't familial—it was strategic. She could recognize it because it was something she might've said herself. For the first time in a long while, she wondered if her brother was more like her than she cared to admit.
Atropos's normally composed expression softened for just a moment as memories of the past surfaced. When they were young, Reynard's voice had been so full of warmth and affection. He used to call her "Big Sis" with a bright smile that could melt even her steely exterior. That boy was gone now, replaced by a cold, calculating man who regarded her as little more than a tool to be used.
The sharp contrast stung.
She remembered the day she had hidden in the shadows to witness his wedding. Atropos had stayed out of sight, observing from afar as Reynard exchanged vows with a woman who carried an aura of power and charisma. Leora, a hunter of remarkable skill and fame, had been the kind of woman Atropos might have admired in another life. Yet here she was, unknowingly tied to Atropos by marriage.
Her thoughts turned darker as she recalled the whirlwind of events that had followed. Reynard, once a promising young man with a stable life, had been thrust into chaos. His connection to the Elsewhere Cult, a shadowy organization that even the Hunter's Association didn't know existed, had turned him into a man on the run.
"Atropos," Tori's sharp voice cut through her reverie, yanking her back to the present. The woman's glasses glinted as she adjusted them, her gaze cold and probing. "Explain yourself. This is the first time we're hearing about a younger brother, and to think you went behind our backs for this? Reynard's qualifications are questionable at best. If anything, we should fail him outright."
Atropos straightened, her face regaining its usual impassivity. "I agree. We need to fail him."
The room went silent. Atropos's words carried weight, and the directors turned to her, startled by her unexpected stance.
Tori narrowed her eyes. "You agree? Then why bring him here in the first place?"
Atropos didn't flinch. "To protect him. The farther he is from the hunter's life, the better. Failing him would ensure that."
Klein chuckled, leaning back with an amused grin. "That's a surprising reaction. I thought there'd be nepotism at work here. If he's as capable as he seems, I wouldn't mind him joining my staff. I could always use another talented individual."
Dr. Yamada, ever aloof, yawned loudly and casually pulled out an ero manga from seemingly nowhere. He began flipping through it with practiced ease, entirely detached from the gravity of the conversation.
Maurice sighed, his deep voice tinged with exasperation. "No way, Klein. He goes with me. HR is overstaffed anyway. I could use someone like him to pick up the slack."
Bob's booming laughter filled the chamber, silencing the petty squabble between Klein, Maurice, and the others. The chairman leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ornate pedestal. His grin stretched wide, his jovial demeanor belying the weight of his words.
"He wanted to be a Hunting Dog though?"
The room fell into an uneasy quiet. Those five words carried a gravity that even the most outspoken among them couldn't ignore. The Hunting Dogs—an elite yet infamous organization within the Hunter's Association—was not a path anyone entered lightly.
The Hunting Dogs were a peculiar collection of individuals: psychopaths, criminals looking for redemption or leverage, battle-addicted lunatics, and oddballs driven by goals that required the complete forfeiture of dignity and freedom. Joining them was less a job and more a life sentence, bound by ironclad rules and a relentless drive for results.
Atropos's expression tightened imperceptibly, though she kept her voice neutral. "That's precisely why he shouldn't join."
Bob arched an eyebrow at her, his tone playful yet pointed. "And here I thought you'd be proud of him following in your footsteps, Atropos. After all, wasn't it you who said only the strongest and most determined could survive among the Dogs?"
Her jaw tensed. "That's why I know he doesn't belong there."
Klein chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Oh, but he's got the determination. Did you see how he carried himself today? That's Hunting Dog material right there. Rough around the edges, sure, but there's fire in his eyes."
Maurice shook his head, crossing his arms. "No way. He's too unpredictable. We don't need more problems in the Hunting Dogs, especially after—"
"After what?" Klein interrupted, his grin turning sharp. "After Leora? Don't be coy. We all know she's the one exception."
The mention of Leora's name sent a ripple through the room. Her legacy was undeniable—a force of nature who had done the impossible by walking away from the Hunting Dogs with her dignity and freedom intact. She was a living legend and, as fate would have it, Reynard's wife.
Bob tapped his fingers against the edge of the pedestal, his grin fading slightly. "That's exactly the point. If anyone's got the guts to handle the Dogs and come out alive, it's someone married to her."
Atropos's hands tightened into fists beneath the table. The mere thought of Reynard in that chaotic, brutal organization made her stomach churn. She wanted him as far from that life as possible.
But Bob had already made his decision. With a dismissive wave, he cut through the murmurs. "No arguments. The Hunting Dogs want him, and he wants them. Let's not waste time bickering over something that's already set in motion."
His tone was final, leaving no room for debate.
Atropos's chest tightened. She had seen firsthand what the Hunting Dogs did to people—how it warped them, turned them into shadows of their former selves. She had to find a way to stop this. But for now, all she could do was glare silently as Bob's booming laughter filled the room once more.
Dr. Yamada was fiddling absentmindedly with the edge of his lab coat when he butted in. His tone was light, but his words carried an undertone of genuine curiosity. "What did he want to achieve by joining the Dogs, though? Seems like a death wish if you ask me."
Tori adjusted her glasses, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. "From my sources, it sounds like he's fighting an organization called the Elsewhere Cult."
That name immediately drew Atropos's full attention. She remained silent but watched the room carefully, her sharp gaze shifting from face to face as Tori continued.
"Two years ago, an attack was carried out against the Bright family," Tori said, her tone clipped and professional. "During the incident, the only son of Leora Bright and Reynard Bright was said to have been critically injured or dead. Emphasis on 'said', but probably Leora's misinformation attempts. Shortly after, Reynard disappeared."
Atropos kept her face impassive, though the words stung. She had followed that incident closely, investigating every lead she could find. Yet despite her efforts, the trail had gone cold. It left a gnawing frustration in her chest that never quite faded.
Tori tapped her fingers on the desk, her expression darkening. "Some time later, Leora annihilated a mercenary group called the Oval. It wasn't a small skirmish; she completely dismantled them. Fast forward two years, and Reynard reemerges as an unofficial hunter. Recent events suggest he's gained significant hunting experience during his absence. After all, he just infiltrated and wreaked havoc at a gala, killing multiple attendees. My team's still piecing together the connections, but it's highly likely Reynard's targets had ties to the Oval or the attack on his family."
She paused, her fingers stilling. "What's unclear is what he hopes to achieve by joining the Hunting Dogs. However, I did trace several offshore accounts linked to the gala's victims. They all lead back to a singular entity: the Elsewhere Cult."
Atropos's voice was calm but decisive. "It is the Elsewhere Cult. For some rason, they want Reynard's son dead."
Klein's head tilted slightly, his white hair catching the room's light. "What's that?"
Tori's frown deepened, and her teeth clenched as she spoke. "An urban legend," she said with barely concealed irritation. "They're rumored to be a shadowy organization that promises immortality to the wealthy through secret, likely unethical, means. If they exist, they fall under the jurisdiction of the World Order, not ours. Hunters are tasked with managing cryptids, rogue hunters who threaten the mundane world, and studying the phenomena beyond the World Wall. We don't handle conspiracy theories."
By 'managing' and 'studying', she meant hunting.
Atropos's hands curled into fists beneath the table. Her brother wasn't chasing a conspiracy—she could feel it. There was something real and malevolent behind the Elsewhere Cult. But if the Association wouldn't officially recognize it, that meant Reynard was walking into a war completely on his own.
Tori's eyes flashed with intensity. "With his fight against Gerry Mansel, we have an opportunity to bring the Elsewhere Cult into the light. Thanks to whatever technique Reynard used, we have a full confession from Gerry on video. That kind of ability—to dominate the mind and force truth—it's rare. Reynard could be an excellent interrogator or spy under my staff."
Klein chuckled softly, his voice calm but laced with sarcasm. "And the consequences of that revelation? Let's not forget the Mansel Household. If we expose Gerry's involvement with this cult, we'll be breaking the very promise we just made to Reynard to cover up Gerry's death. The Mansels would retaliate against both him and us. Hardly ideal."
Tori's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't back down. "If we forfeit the recording, our credibility takes a hit. Instead, we could spin the narrative—frame the Elsewhere Cult as an existential threat that demands extermination. Reynard becomes a harmless pawn in the story. Alternatively," she said with a slight shrug, "we could go to extreme lengths and hide his existence altogether."
Bob leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. His tone was casual, but there was a weight to his words. "That's unlikely. Transparency isn't just some buzzword. The demands placed on us by the old nobility mean we'd be forced to investigate Reynard and 'hunt' him down if things escalate. Even if the Mansel Household learns about the Elsewhere Cult, their first priority would still be Reynard—not the cult. At this point, compromise is the only path forward, and we're limited to what Reynard wants."
Bob's gaze swept the room, his usually jovial demeanor giving way to something more somber. "I know some of you want him in your departments. That's why you're so eager to handle this Elsewhere Cult situation. But let me remind you—the darkness of this world runs far deeper than most of you can perceive. Hidden organizations like the Elsewhere Cult? They're not as unique as you think. They're just one thread in a vast and dangerous tapestry. And we rarely get involved with them for a reason. That's the World Order's job."
Dr. Yamada snorted and tossed a pen onto the table, his tone flippant. "The World Order. Now there's a joke. A secretive, loose organization that's supposedly on equal footing with us and the mundane government? The very idea of it is insane. What do they even do?"
Bob let out a dry chuckle, though his eyes remained sharp. "They do what they must. And so will we."