Inside the chapel, Captain Irving inspected several wooden food-storage crates.
His expression grew less optimistic with each one he opened.
Sister Catherine stood nearby, watching patiently.
"You'll run out of food within a week," Irving said flatly.
"Oh my…" Catherine's face tightened with worry. "Usually every few days, food magically appears at the entrance. But nothing has come."
"Magically?"
"Fufufu." The elderly priestess giggled softly behind her hand. "Not truly magical."
"Some shy gentlemen place it there secretly," she explained. "But the children call it magic."
"I see…" Irving replied.
He was completely unaware that he and his group had methodically exterminated many of those shy gentlemen on their first day in the forest.
"In any case," Irving sighed, scratching his head, "we need a plan. The orphanage won't survive more than a week at this rate."
He looked down at his notes again.
His concern was directed primarily at one problem.
What the orphanage would be feeding him and the misfits after that week passed.
---
Brightfield Town—Two Days Later
The town looked exactly the same as when the misfits left it.
Armed guards.
Suspicious faces.
And wanted posters plastered on nearly every wall.
One of the younger guards stopped a small girl wearing a red hood who was walking toward the gate.
"State your purpose."
The girl froze.
"I—I'm helping my mommy…" she stammered nervously. "S-she's sick… so I'm here to sell bread…"
The guard's stern face softened immediately.
Poor kid.
She looked terrified.
"Alright," he said gently. "Go on."
The girl nodded repeatedly and hurried through the gate.
Once she was out of earshot, she lowered her head slightly and whispered into a tiny hidden communicator.
"O-oni chan… I'm in…"
---
Up on a distant hill overlooking the town, Kovalski lowered his binoculars and grinned.
"Good job, Martha. Now relax — you won't do anything dangerous yet."
"Y-yes!" Martha's voice replied through the comm. "I'm just doing… uh… what was it? Recon!"
"That's right," Kovalski said proudly, nodding to himself. "Recon."
He leaned against a tree and spoke into the communicator again.
"Now find a tavern. Set up your bread stall across from it. Then draw me a sketch of the building."
There was a pause.
"Oni chan will guide you."
"Okay!"
Thus, Kovalski began teaching the local orphans the art of infiltration.
---
Forest Orphanage
Back at the orphanage, a fluffy white bunny happily munched on a carrot placed on the table.
Bella watched it with sparkling eyes.
"Thumper," she said warmly, "you remind me of my pet demon bunny back home."
She gently patted the rabbit's head.
"Just… less horns and fangs."
The bunny continued chewing happily, unaware of its rapidly approaching future.
"Well then," Bella said sweetly. "Enjoy your lunch while I prepare mine."
She stood up and slowly stepped behind Thumper.
"A soft… tender…" she whispered.
Her smile slowly widened into a maniacal grin.
She raised a butcher knife high above her head.
"…rabbit meat."
THWACK
Thumper's head rolled neatly across the table.
Several children standing nearby froze in absolute horror.
Bella wiped a small streak of blood from her cheek.
"And that," she said cheerfully, "is how you do a humane kill!"
The children stared.
"You name it, you love it, and then you kill it quickly," Bella continued, gesturing with the knife like a teacher explaining an important lesson.
The children nodded obediently.
All of them looked slightly traumatized.
"Alright!" Bella clapped her hands. "To the forest! Today we learn foraging — and setting traps for Thumper's families."
Bella happily began teaching survival skills.
---
"WAAAAAAH!"
Three children sobbed loudly while standing in a row.
Ivy stared at them with annoyed expression.
"You are wrong." She shout at them.
The three children instantly stopped crying.
"The sound is good," Ivy said, "but no tears. Adults will notice."
She pointed to the side.
"Switch groups."
The next three children stepped forward.
"WAAAAAAAAH!"
Ivy folded her arms.
"Much better." She nodded with approval.
"Remember," she said seriously, "convincing tears can save your life."
Thus, Ivy began teaching street-smart survival.
---
Meanwhile, inside the orphanage building, Irving stood in front of a chalkboard.
Sister Catherine, Robert, and several older orphans sat nearby, listening carefully.
"So," Irving said, tapping the board with a piece of chalk, "what's the best solution here?"
Robert raised his hand.
"Uh… take everything from the store?"
"Wrong," Irving replied immediately. "Tempting, but that only works if you plan to leave town forever."
He tapped the chalkboard again.
"Best option: take small amounts so the owner won't notice."
He drew several small lines on the board.
"That way you can do it regularly."
"But sir knight," Sister Catherine asked nervously, "is that not stealing?"
"It's not stealing," Irving said calmly.
He placed the chalk down and folded his arms.
"Since it's for the orphanage." He nodded confidently. "It's charity. We're simply taking it in advance."
"Aaaaah!" the entire class exclaimed in sudden enlightenment.
Irving had now begun teaching what he called sustainable economics.
It was official.
The misfit party had decided the orphanage needed survival skills if they were going to keep feeding them for the next two weeks.
So naturally, they taught the children the skills they themselves knew best.
Unlawful requisition.
---
Vandoria, Vans City (Second Prince Territory)
Vandoria no longer looked anything like the elegant capital it had been a year ago.
Back then, the city had the charm of a proud imperial capital — clean boulevards, elegant cafés, fashionable crowds strolling under glowing street lamps.
Now it looked like Berlin after World War II.
The beauty was still there… technically.
Just buried under rubble.
Makeup had been replaced by dirt.
Fashion had been replaced by bruises.
And the once-proud streets were now full of tired people trying very hard not to look at the ruins around them.
Civil war had a funny way of doing that.
It turned a country into a mirror.
And Vandoria was now staring directly at the reflection of the suffering it once exported to its colonies and vassals.
---
Inside a half-destroyed tavern, a hooded man finished the last sip of his drink.
He placed a single coin on the table.
Along with a small scrap of paper.
Then he quietly stood up and walked out.
No one paid him any attention.
The waitress eventually came to clear the table.
She grabbed the empty cup… the coin… and the scrap of paper without even glancing at it.
To her, it was just more trash from another tired customer.
Later, she stepped outside and tossed the garbage into a back-alley bin.
Then she paused.
"Ah—choo!"
She performed a very dramatic fake sneeze.
Satisfied with her acting performance, she returned inside the tavern.
Not long after that, a small figure appeared from the alley shadows.
A street urchin.
The boy quickly rummaged through the garbage.
A moment later he found the paper.
He slipped it inside his shirt, glanced around once, and then vanished back into the shadows like he had never been there.
---
Later that evening, a coded knock sounded on the door of a small room inside a cheap inn.
One fast.
Three quick.
From inside the room, the door remained closed.
But a small scrap of paper slid quietly under it.
Megan picked it up.
The paper contained what looked like a completely ridiculous poem.
Something about a drunken goose, a broken ladder, and a philosophical potato.
Megan read it once.
Then twice.
Then she nodded.
"Boss," she said, looking up from the paper. "We got the time and date for the delivery."
Across the table, Young Mo finally looked up.
"Finally," he said. "When?"
"Tomorrow night." She tapped the paper. "In the ruins outside town."
Young Mo leaned forward in his chair.
"Good." He nodded slowly. "Its secluded, easier for us."
Then he leaned back and gestured toward the table.
"Now come back."
Megan hesitated for a moment… then reluctantly returned to her seat.
On the table between them sat an empty wine bottle.
And it was pointing directly at Megan.
Young Mo tapped the table with one finger.
His expression turned extremely serious.
"Now tell me…"
He paused dramatically.
"Truth or Dare?"
Megan stared at him.
Laying low during a mission could be very boring.
Very.
Very.
Boring.