That one line was still lodged in Shion's head. The cooking is... well, she's trying. From the moment she woke this morning, the words came back. She hadn't dreamed about it. But it was the first thing that surfaced in her half-awake mind. Shion sighed and sat up. Beyond the window, the sound of the Mizel River flowed as always. The sky was still a pale white. Tempest's mornings came early — the rattle of market carts, merchants preparing to open their shops, the sound of children running somewhere. Tempest — the city-state founded by the Demon Lord Rimuru Tempest, where monsters and demi-humans coexisted — moved forward unchanged today as well. Population: approximately eighteen thousand. Goblins, oni-kin, lizardmen, dwarves, human merchants. There were no racial barriers in this nation. Because Rimuru had raised the banner of "coexistence," concluded non-aggression treaties with neighboring countries, and moved forward through diplomacy and economics rather than war. This was the result — Tempest as it stood now. (Peace is so quiet, isn't it.) Thinking such things vaguely, Shion changed her clothes. A white shirt, black slacks, steel bracers on both arms. The two small horns protruding from her forehead were proof of her oni-kin heritage. She had once been an ogre — Rimuru had given her a name, and she had evolved. A name wasn't merely a ritual. Abilities increased dramatically. Lifespan extended to several centuries. Even emotions became sharper. Joy, anger, and then — Shion pulled the fastening on her bracer a little harder. Jealousy, too. --- Second floor of the administrative building, "Welthaus." She came first thing this morning, as always, organizing documents. That was Shion's job. Secretary and bodyguard directly under Rimuru — Shion was the only one holding this position in Tempest. Rimuru's schedule management, visitor reception, document processing, personal security. She knew her own combat strength was among the highest of the executives. But clerical work and cooking were... honestly difficult. As for cooking, for some reason she couldn't explain, the taste changed every time she made it. Apparently it had become something of a local specialty within Tempest, but that wasn't what "specialty" meant. She hadn't told anyone about yesterday's diary entry — well, she'd mentioned it a little to Benimaru. But she couldn't bring herself to say the important part. As she spread out a stack of documents on her desk, Shion glanced at Rimuru's desk. The third drawer. Where that diary was. She wouldn't open it today. Absolutely not. "[serious] I won't open it," She'd said it out loud. No one was around, so it didn't matter, but it was embarrassing somehow. --- The morning was filled with visitor reception. The biggest project in Tempest right now was negotiations with the Kairos Alliance. The Kairos Alliance — a confederation of dwarf craftsman guilds with a history of about one hundred twenty years. Approximately twenty-four hundred members, organized into three divisions: blacksmithing, stonework, and mechanical engineering. Their representative director, Hanza, was currently staying in Tempest. The purpose was an exclusive supply contract for Tempest-produced mithril steel. Mithril steel — a special metal mined from underground ore veins beneath the Great Jura Forest, with five times the strength of normal steel and the property of accumulating and conducting magical power. It was the highest-grade material for weapons and magical tools, worth five hundred Tempest silver coins per kilogram — roughly equivalent to two hundred fifty thousand yen in real-world terms. The Kairos Alliance wanted to secure an exclusive supply contract for it. It wasn't a bad deal for Tempest. But the word "exclusive" caught in her mind. Rimuru hadn't reached a conclusion yet. As Shion organized the negotiation preparation documents, she heard footsteps from the hallway. "[gentle] Shion, do you have a moment?" It was Shuna. Pale peach-colored hair, gentle eyes, refined bearing. One of Rimuru's direct executives, handling Tempest's internal affairs and ceremonies. Like Shion, she was oni-kin, and like Shion, she had received a name. There were other things in common too — something Shion had never spoken aloud. "[serious] ...Yeah, I'm here," "I ended up needing to review the negotiation materials too. Is it okay if we organize them together?" Shion froze, still holding one document. (Together, huh.) She remembered the hallway yesterday. In the light of the sunset, the moment their eyes met. Shuna had said something, but she hadn't heard it. "Go ahead," Her voice came out a bit curt. Shuna didn't seem to mind, settling into the chair across from her. The two of them spread out the documents. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning. "...We ran into each other in the hallway yesterday," "Yeah," "I was trying to say something, but you left," Shion didn't look up from the documents. "What were you trying to say?" "[gentle] ...Are you okay?" It was a short phrase. But Shion's hands stopped for just a moment. (Okay, huh.) She felt like if she was asked, she had to answer, and that felt a little bothersome. She couldn't say she wasn't okay. But she didn't want to say she was, either. "[sarcastic] I'm fine. Let's start organizing the documents," Shuna looked at her for a while. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but in the end just said "I see" and turned her attention back to the papers. Silence returned between them. But this time, the silence felt a little softer than yesterday. Maybe it was just her imagination. --- In the afternoon, Shion headed to the Kairos Alliance's temporary office. A renovated warehouse on the north side of the central market. The interior was larger than expected, with the first floor set up as a negotiation space. Blueprints were spread across the table, and three dwarf craftsmen were discussing something. Shion's role today was preliminary confirmation before negotiations. To check for any discrepancies in the documents, any scheduling conflicts — the kind of groundwork that was unglamorous but essential. Hanza came down from the second floor. A small dwarf woman with chestnut-colored hair tied back. She appeared to be in her late thirties, but her actual age was around one hundred fifty. Her sun-darkened brown arms were distinctive, giving her a strong presence. Unusually for a dwarf, she was weak to alcohol — Shion had read that in a report from Souei, the executive overseeing intelligence operations. "[excited] Lady Shion! Thank you so much for coming!" Her smile was too natural. Shion caught on that something was off. "I'd like to confirm the documents. Is that okay?" "Of course! Come this way, please," She was shown to the table, and the documents were spread out. Annual transaction volume of mithril steel, pricing, shipping routes. The numbers were laid out cleanly. It was well researched. As befitted the representative of an organization with one hundred twenty years of history. Except — As Shion turned through the documents one by one, something nagged at the back of her mind. The numbers were accurate. But something felt off. The phrase "ensuring stable supply" listed as the reason for seeking exclusive purchase — it was ordinary negotiation language in itself. But when compared against the Kairos Alliance's annual transaction volume, the quantity they were requesting this time was a bit too much. (They couldn't use it all.) "Is there something unclear?" Hanza leaned in from the side, still smiling. "No, just checking the numbers," "Please, ask me anything! The alliance is all looking forward to trading with Tempest," Shion looked at the documents again. This transaction volume — were they planning to resell it to someone? Monopolize the mithril steel and sell it to other nations. That structure formed in her head and wouldn't disappear. But she couldn't confirm it now. There was no evidence. "Understood. I've confirmed the documents. I'll come back if there's anything else," "Anytime! We'll be waiting," She left the temporary office and returned to the market street. The market in early afternoon was lively. Goblin children ran around, a lizardman shopkeeper arranged fish, a human merchant negotiated cloth prices. An ordinary afternoon in Tempest. Shion stopped and turned back to look at the building. (That request volume is definitely wrong.) She should investigate a bit more. Should she ask Souei, or handle it herself — "[sarcastic] You're making that difficult face again," A voice came from behind. She turned to find Benimaru standing there with a fruit skewer in one hand. Reddish hair, tall frame. He wasn't carrying his sword — must be off-duty. He was eating the fruit skewer. "Off-duty?" "Yeah. The weather's nice, so I came outside," "...That's all?" "[sarcastic] I saw you heading to the temporary office, so I followed," "Why?" "[serious] The thing you mentioned yesterday bothered me," Shion looked away. What she'd told Benimaru yesterday — whether she was being properly seen. She'd only conveyed it in vague terms, but apparently he'd understood. "Never mind. I forgot about it while working," "Really?" "[angry] Really!" Her voice got a bit loud. She stood out a little in the market. Shion put her hand to her face and took a deep breath. "...I think Hanza's request volume is off. She's trying to monopolize more mithril steel than they could possibly use," "Resale," "Probably. But I don't have proof," "Should we report it to Rimuru?" "Reporting without proof won't help. I'll investigate a bit more first," Benimaru bit into the last of his fruit skewer and thought for a moment. "[serious] ...You're capable at your job, you know. You notice things properly," "That's not what we're talking about," "It is. It's the continuation of yesterday's conversation," Shion had nothing to say. "[serious] I don't know what was written in Rimuru's diary — but I know you come first thing every morning and stay until the very end," "That's because of work," "[sarcastic] Not everyone does that just because of work," Shion fell silent. Benimaru's words slowly settled into her chest. She tried to think of a rebuttal, but the words wouldn't come. "...Thank you," "[sarcastic] Don't say creepy things," "I shouldn't have said it!" Benimaru laughed. Shion managed a small, wry smile too. The weight in her chest felt a little lighter than yesterday. Just a little, though. --- In the evening, before returning to the administrative building, Shion stopped for a moment on the bridge over the Mizel River. The river surface was dyed orange. One of the three stone bridges, the southernmost one. A place she liked in Tempest. From here, she could see the entire city. White smoke rose from the "Kagutsuchi" forge's chimney, lights were beginning to come on in the market, and one window on the third floor of "Welthaus" was glowing. Rimuru was still there. Shion watched that light for a while. (Am I being properly seen?) The answer to that question still hadn't come. But Benimaru's words — "you're capable at your job" — lingered a little. And there was also the matter of Hanza. That request volume was definitely wrong. She needed to find proof. It might be faster to ask Souei, but — she wanted to do it herself. Being a secretary and bodyguard wasn't just about organizing documents. It included bringing Rimuru the information he needed. That was part of her job too. (I'll definitely find out.) The whispered words were swallowed by the sound of the river. She rested her hands on the bridge's railing and looked at the water. It flowed onward. Tempest's day was coming to an end. Rimuru's window light still hadn't gone dark.