The sound of upbeat pop music filled the living room. Amy had a peculiar taste for noisy, over-the-top tunes. Worse yet, she sang along despite her less-than-stellar voice—a double-edged assault on the senses.
"Nothing can compare to you and me, hiding under the sheets~"
Suddenly, the door to the storage room creaked open. Amy, who had been cheerfully singing seconds earlier, now wore a stoic expression. Without saying a word, she placed two dishes on the floor in front of Igula.
On the left: dog food. On the right: a bowl of plain water.
Igula glanced up at her, tentatively raising his right hand. Amy nodded, and without hesitation, he bolted out of the room, heading for the bathroom.
When he returned, Igula obediently dropped to the floor, eating like a pet. Yet he didn't feel particularly humiliated. This level of degradation, one that didn't infringe on his core interests, couldn't scratch the surface of a con artist's pride.
Amy seemed satisfied, crouching beside him. "I've got intel. Observation Point 53 has been confirmed to be a functional Void Passage."
Igula snapped his head up. "When—"
Smack!
Amy landed a sharp slap on the back of his head. It made a loud sound, her previously delicate and cute face now clouded with a mix of fury and smug authority.
Igula, knowing better than to resist, raised his hand in surrender. Amy's expression shifted back to her usual playful cheer. "Now you can talk."
"When does the first wave of exploration for Observation Point 53 begin?"
"Tonight. May 2nd, at midnight, when the Blood Moon dims," Amy replied. "The Lakeside Command has already dispatched a team of adventurers. I've prepared a standard adventurer's outfit and a bicycle for you. You've got five hours left until midnight. That's enough time to make it there. Whether you can blend in with the team is up to you."
Igula froze for a moment. He'd assumed Amy would help him, but he hadn't expected her to go to such lengths.
In truth, he could have resisted her treatment—the storage room confinement, the dog food, the collar. But he had chosen to comply, knowing Amy was his lifeline out of the Blood Moon Nation. Offending her would only hasten his demise.
Take the intel on Observation Point 53, for example. While Amy was contractually bound to share it, the timing was entirely in her hands. If she'd waited until 11 p.m. to tell him, Igula would've missed his best chance to escape—a first-wave exploration of the Void Passage, rife with gaps and opportunities for infiltration.
But Amy hadn't just told him in time; she'd even prepared his disguise and transportation. For a fleeting moment, Igula felt an uncharacteristic pang of gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you for helping me so much."
Amy blinked in surprise before breaking into a sweet smile. Her wolf-like tail wagged behind her with unabashed pride. "You're welcome!"
She suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him up. "Come on, let's eat."
"Huh?" Igula glanced at the dish of dog food. "Isn't that my meal?"
"Good kids don't need snacks," Amy said, seating him at the table. "I'll make you something better."
Her version of "cooking" was generously mediocre: pulling half-prepared meals from the freezer, heating them, and tossing them onto plates. But for Igula, who'd been dining on dog food for days, the ability to sit at a table and eat with utensils felt like a five-star dining experience.
Just as he was about to dig in, Amy clasped her hands together and said a prayer. "Thank you, Blood Moon, for the sunlight and rain that bless the earth with such bountiful food."
Igula noticed her sneaking glances at him. Reluctantly, he followed suit, murmuring a brief prayer. Amy beamed, clearly satisfied. "We haven't gambled in a while. Want to make a bet?"
Igula sighed. "We're eating right now."
"We can bet while eating! You're so smart, Igula. Come up with something fun!" she said, her enthusiasm undeterred.
Not wanting to provoke her, Igula thought for a moment. "How about this? Each round, we can eat between one and three bites of food. Whoever eats the last bite wins."
"Sounds fun!" Amy exclaimed. "What's the wager?"
"Just one question," Igula suggested. "The loser has to answer the winner honestly."
"Deal! Haha, you're going down, Igula. My record is gulping down a whole dish of Laralafe in one bite!"
As always, Amy didn't care much about the stakes. But this game wasn't about appetite—it was about strategy and calculation. Igula manipulated the flow effortlessly. By the time Amy had devoured most of the food, he claimed the final bite and the victory.
Amy patted her stomach contentedly, letting out a small sigh. "Ah, I lost again. That makes it… 185 losses and 12 wins…"
Igula, now dressed in his adventurer's disguise with a mask and hood, glanced at her in surprise. "You've been keeping track?"
"Of course! How could I forget something so important?" Amy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed a key to Igula. "Your bike's parked in space 16 downstairs."
Taking the key, Igula hesitated. "Sorry for all the trouble. If I get caught, the Memory Mages will extract evidence of your help. I haven't had time to erase it…"
"It's fine," Amy said nonchalantly, waving a hand. "Helping a friend is normal, isn't it?"
Friend…?
Igula's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "But I'm a criminal, and you're a Blood Hunter."
"So?" Amy perched on her chair, tilting her head curiously. Her tail curled behind her, and her face held genuine confusion. "You're a criminal, I'm a hunter, but that has nothing to do with us being friends. When we play, we're playing gambling games, not hunter-and-prey games."
"I've never heard of friends locking each other in storage rooms and feeding them dog food," Igula replied coldly.
"You're a rude little brat. Isn't it normal to be punished?" Amy said matter-of-factly. "You still haven't apologized, either!"
Apologize? For what? He'd been locked up since day one!
Unbelievable. Utterly baffling.
Shaking his head, Igula made his way to the door. Amy followed, watching as he put on his boots. "You're leaving? Stay safe."
"Oh, right." Igula paused, turning to her. "I won the game earlier. I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Was it you who reported me to the Blood Hunter Division?"
Amy blinked, her face a blank slate. "Reported you? Wait—you were arrested by the Blood Hunters? That's why you've been gone for over a year? …Hold on. Does that mean you're an escaped convict? You really are a criminal?!"
Igula was dumbfounded. "You didn't see my wanted poster?"
"The squad leader handles the pursuit of escapees. I've been assigned to the vice mayor's security detail…" Amy shook her head. "As for your arrest, I didn't even know who you were. How could I have reported you? …Oh, wait."
"I remember about a year ago, everyone suddenly congratulated me. They said I'd baited a clever con artist into a trap. Even the squad leader praised me and treated me to dinner. I had no idea what they were talking about, but the food was great. I even got promoted!"
Though improbable, Igula could tell she wasn't lying.
From the moment they'd met, Amy had always come across as guileless—a charming idiot. It was why he'd shamelessly milked their contract for over 9,000 minutes, knowing she'd be easy to exploit.
And truthfully, he'd never wanted to believe she was the one who betrayed him. If she had, it would mean his ability to judge people was fatally flawed. A con artist who couldn't tell friend from foe had no business in his line of work.
Thankfully, Amy didn't disappoint. She was as naive as ever. His capture had been a coincidence, not part of some elaborate trap she'd set. The only person capable of outwitting him remained that juvenile-minded cult leader.
Relieved, Igula smiled. "Thank you, Amy."
Amy, however, pouted. "That's it? You don't have anything else to say to me? Like, maybe an apology…"
"For all the trouble I've caused you, I'm sorry…"
"I told you that's fine! That's not what I meant!" she interrupted.
What does she even want? Igula, unable to decipher her thoughts, simply opened the door. "Thanks for your help. I hope we meet again."
"Next time, I'm definitely beating you!" Amy called out cheerfully.
Walking away from the apartment, Igula let out a long breath, the gloom of the past few days lifting with every step.
Despite her quirks—her temper, her penchant for humiliating him—Amy wasn't a bad client. Given enough time, Igula was confident he could turn her into a valuable mole within the Blood Hunters.
After all, Amy cherished her friendships, wore her emotions plainly, and had a childlike disregard for rules. She was practically an oversized kid…
Igula found the bike Amy had prepared for him and hopped on. Just as he was about to pedal away, her voice rang out from the balcony above.
"Next time you ask for help, say 'please' first!" she shouted, completely unfiltered. "Stop being so rude!"
Igula froze, stunned, before giving her a quick nod and riding off.
As he pedaled down the street, he mulled over her sudden outburst. After a moment, it hit him: when he'd first approached her, he really hadn't said "please."
Irritation and amusement warred within him. Could it be that she'd been holding a grudge this entire time because of that one little omission?
"You're a rude little brat. Isn't it normal to be punished?"
Screech.
Igula slammed the brakes, glancing back at Amy's apartment.
He recalled what he knew about the Moonshadow Tribe.
Unlike adult initiates who joined the church through exams, some members were selected as infants—children deemed to have the highest potential for the tribe's teachings. These children were raised in secluded church orphanages, far from public oversight.
Unlike regular orphanages, which were subject to societal scrutiny and regulations, church orphanages operated behind closed doors. They might be free to implement military-style discipline without interference.
Still, the Moonshadow priests who emerged from these orphanages were anything but harsh or militant. Compared to the average Blood Moon citizen, they were pure, cheerful, diligent, and endlessly polite—like angels in human form.
That was part of why the Moonshadow priests were so revered. When ordinary problems—lost pets, petty disputes, or even ridiculous mishaps—arose, people didn't turn to the Blood Hunters. They turned to the church.
The Moonshadow priests never refused. They always arrived with smiles, patient and eager to help. Over time, they became the embodiment of public goodwill. Most of the Blood Moon populace revered them as the purest representation of the Blood Moon's divine will.
In Amy's case, her behavior was starting to make a lot more sense.
"Only a child would be afraid of being locked in a storage room," Igula muttered to himself. Even as an adult, Amy's innocence and obsession with manners hinted at a deeply ingrained upbringing.
And that dog food? She called it a snack.
The signs were obvious in hindsight.
Looking up at the glowing Blood Moon, Igula shook his head. Then he tightened his grip on the handlebars and pedaled into the night, leaving the strange little priestess and her peculiar world behind.