Chapter 129 - 43.2

After Osaki and Yomaura had searched Carlton Paris' house and discovered the agenda with the names of his clients in it, they had gone around the city to visit these clients, meticulously working off the list with both discretion and a sense of purpose, trying to find clues hinting at the identity of Paris' murderer.

So far, they'd had little luck.

"And that was Aoko Shizuku." Yomaura sighed as the two of them left the luxurious apartment complex where said woman lived, squinting her eyes slightly against the light of the rising sun. "I hate this part of the job."

More specifically, she didn't hate the questioning, but rather the part where they had to inform people about their loved ones' demise. Aoko Shizuku for instance had been inconsolable, and had remained such for the entire conversation.

All Osaki and Yomaura had been able to get out of her was that she had no idea who could have killed Paris, and that had been the end of it. Her further ramblings had not been coherent enough to make sense of.

"You know, with how ardently all these people insist that Paris-san was a wonderful, amazing, kind, and considerate lover, I am starting to doubt more and more whether that was actually so." Yomaura remarked after they'd walked back to the car. "Don't you think it all sounds too good to be true?"

"I definitely see what you mean." Osaki mused as they got into the vehicle, before Yomaura started the engine. "But until you obtain credible evidence to back your theory up, it is merely an assumption. Every judge in this city would look at the dozen witnesses saying exactly the same and would rule it definite proof of Paris-san's excellent character. Your protests won't do anything, especially since there is no reason why the witnesses would lie to us."

"But what do you think?" Yomaura pressed him, considering her Senpai's opinion more important than a random judge's.

"…I think you might be on to something." Osaki sighed after a moment, admitting that Paris did sound too good to be true. "Keep your eyes open from now on. See if you can find any evidence to back up your theory."

"Right." Yomaura nodded, driving the car out on the road. "In that case, where shall we go next?"

"Maita Rei." Osaki responded promptly, having memorised their list by now. "The director of the private clinic at the edge of town."

"I think I know the one." Yomaura nodded, before smiling sheepishly. "Though I don't know the way. Could you get the map out, Senpai?"

"Of course." He nodded, before doing exactly that.

Unfortunately, Osaki was no more skilled at map-reading than the average man, so they ended up taking a wrong turn several times before they made it to the clinic, about forty minutes later.

Neither of them really minded that though –they'd started early, so they had some room for error today– and it was with good moods that they got out of the car.

Until they saw who else was standing at the gate of the clinic.

"Osaki-san, Yomaura-san." Matou Sakura smiled an extremely joyless smile, while Mitsuzuri Ayako palmed her face, and a black-haired girl lifted an eyebrow at them. "How… quaint, to see you here."

"What on Earth are you-?!" Yomaura started to say, before she interrupted herself as she realised exactly what was going on. "Oh, I see, following in that boy's footsteps, are you?"

"You got it in one." Mitsuzuri huffed, now also frowning at them. "What about you though? I thought the police generally didn't bother with foreigners, especially if they are involved in things that violate public morals."

"So you know that much already, do you?" Osaki clenched his teeth, not at all appreciating this sudden surprise. "Are you aware I can arrest you for vigilantism now?"

"It would be a stretch, as you have no evidence, but I suppose that is not necessarily a hurdle for the police if they are determined enough." The black-haired girl huffed, angling her face upwards. "So, are you going to arrest us?"

"If you do not cease your vigilantism, I will." Osaki answered sharply. "And don't think Rakurai is going to be a deterrent here."

"We merely wished to bring Rei-san the bad news." Perhaps recognising he was serious, Matou decided to step in, her voice sweet and demure. "When we heard that poor Paris-san was a gigolo, we feared the police would bury the case. That would mean that all his… lovers, would remain unaware of his demise. We have merely been informing them of what happened."

"Aha, and you found them how exactly?" Yomaura narrowed her eyes at the girl.

"Lots and lots of luck, Yomaura-san." The girl beamed. "The gods were with us."

"I'm sure." Yomaura scoffed, before making a shooing motion. "Now scram, kids. It is one thing for you to practise your vigilantism when the police isn't doing anything, but we are here now, so you can go home."

It was a bit crudely worded, but his partner was right. With them on the case, there was no need for these girls to involve themselves further in the investigation, especially since they clearly didn't have even a fraction of Rakurai's brutal efficiency. The case would have been closed by now if they did.

"Alright, alright, we're going." The black-haired girl held up her hands, a sweet smile coming to her face, one that looked exactly like Matou's smile. "There's no need to get worked up."

Such instant and unexpected compliance would have been suspicious even under the best of circumstances, and when it were Rakurai's associates who were suddenly so obedient, that compliance set off every alarm bell in Osaki's head.

"Are you planning to enter after we have left?" He asked sharply. "Forget it. I will inform Maita-san about your little play at an investigation, and I will insist that she does not speak with you."

"That is fine. We already talked to her." Mitsuzuri smirked. "You were a little late, I fear."

"As usual." The black-haired girl sniped, smirking in way that seemed tailor-made to be as infuriating as possible. "But better late than never I suppose. We're heading off now, so feel free to talk with Rei-san."

"Goodbye, Osaki-san." Matou's beaming smile hadn't shrunken the tiniest bit yet, which somehow was just as infuriating at the black-haired girl's smirk. "I wish you the best of luck with your investigation."

"See ya!" Mitsuzuri winked, before running after the other two, leaving Osaki and Yomaura behind.

"I do sort of want to arrest them for real now." Yomaura admitted after a moment, her voice mostly calm, though there was a slight undercurrent of irritation. "Cheeky brats."

"We have no evidence they committed any crimes whatsoever." Osaki shook his head. "They are correct that visiting people is not illegal, and as far as we know, they have not engaged in any overt acts of vigilantism."

"Yeah, you're right." His partner sighed, the irritation in her voice vanishing quickly. "I suppose I wouldn't feel comfortable arresting minors anyway, not to mention that, despite what you just said, Rakurai still is a very large factor to consider if we want to move against those three."

"Yes." Osaki responded bluntly. For all that he had pretended the opposite, Rakurai was indeed a very large shadow looming over them right now. Arresting his friends was not a wise decision, at all. Osaki might be a bit of an idealist, but he could easily recognise situations where he was out of his league.

"Also, that girl was Tohsaka Rin." Yomaura continued, pensively rubbing her chin. "Which means we cannot take her lightly either."

"Tohsaka? Those were the… Second Owners, right?"

"Correct, which means that she is a Magus, which in turn means that a battle between us would definitely be disastrous for our surroundings and might go either way in the end."

"Hm." Osaki made a non-committal noise, before he decided to put the trio out of his mind. "Well, whatever. Let us go speak with Maita-san."

"Indeed." Yomaura nodded, looking grateful for the change in subject, before she walked up to the wall surrounding the estate and pressed the doorbell next to the gate.

A few minutes later, the detectives were seated in Maita Rei's spacious living room, with cups of tea in front of them, and their host holding platters of biscuits, sweets, and other snacks under their noses.

"Ara, are you sure I cannot interest you in a bite?" Maita Rei asked, cocking her head to the side, smiling a closed-eyed smile at them. "Or perhaps, if it is too early for you, I could pack them so you can take them with you?"

"Ah, that won't be-" Osaki started to say.

"We generally don't eat sweets or other snacks in the morning, but if you could pack them, we would appreciate that." Yomaura interrupted him quickly, before smiling kindly at the other woman. "Thank you very much."

"No problem at all, dear!" Maita's countenance brightened considerably at Yomaura's acceptance, and she set the platters with snacks down on the table again, before taking a seat herself.

Osaki lifted an eyebrow at his partner, who had never been one for snacks, but she just shrugged, mouthing 'if it makes her happy' at him, which was a sentiment he couldn't disagree with.

When Osaki had learned that Maita Rei was a very successful psychiatrist running her own private clinic, he had immediately pictured a short, plump woman with a short haircut and a serious, no-nonsense air about her, clad in working clothes and a lab coat, who ruled her clinic with an iron fist in a velvet glove and easily kept all manner of people with mental disorders under her thumb.

A woman with nerves of steel, who lived in a spartan bunker, ever focused on battling the psychological issues of her patients with the zeal of a soldier at the front.

Boy, had he been wrong. She was not like that at all.

Maita Rei was a tall, graceful woman, with long hair as black as night, an absolute killer figure, a soft, motherly attitude, and a boundless patience that almost seemed inhuman. Furthermore, her clinic was a beautiful and comfortable place, almost like a luxurious hotel, and it was clear no expense had been spared to make the lives of her patients as happy as possible.

She did have nerves of steel though, that part at least Osaki had been right about. She was a tough woman who wasn't at all intimidated by two police officers and had shown no compunction about making it clear that this was her house and thus her rules.

She wore a low-cut sweater coupled with a pencil skirt that was perhaps a bit shorter than expected, exposing both a royal amount of cleavage and a good part of her long, luscious legs.

Though she was about a decade older than he, she was still in the prime of her life, and the happy smile that currently graced her features made Osaki's heart beat slightly faster.

But he was a professional, so he easily moved past that.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice." He began the interview, and next to him, Yomaura opened her notebook and readied a pencil. "I presume you already know what we want to talk to you about."

"Carlton Paris." Maita nodded, placing a finger on her chin in thought. "Before you arrived, there were three girls who were kind enough to come by to inform me of what happened to him."

"Yes." Osaki nodded, taking care to not let his unhappiness show.

"You don't seem quite happy with that." Maita easily pricked through his front however, as could be expected of a psychiatrist.

"These girls have a tendency to meddle in police business, which we don't like." Yomaura answered before he could. "Nothing bad has happened so far, but that doesn't mean nothing bad will happen in the future too."

"They did seem quite determined, though about what, I cannot say." Maita placed a hand on her cheek, her smile turning into a worried expression. "I hope they won't take it too far, whatever they are up to."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Yomaura made a dismissive motion with her hand.

"Yet I cannot help but worry." Maita sighed, before looking pleadingly at the two of them, leaning forward, which caused her to inadvertently place a lot of emphasis on her sizable cleavage. "Would you please keep an eye on them? For me if nothing else?"

"…I suppose it is our duty." Osaki coughed into his hand, before clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "We can only promise to do our best."

"That is all I ask." Maita's countenance became radiant once more at his positive answer.

"Well then, Maita-san, to get back on topic-" Yomaura began.

"Oh, please call me Rei." The graceful woman interrupted her, placing her hands together with a sheepish smile. "I know it is silly, since I am older than you and a mother at that, but being called Maita-san makes me feel so old."

"Rei then." Yomaura went along with the request easily enough. "I was going to ask you about Carlton Paris, but before that, you mentioned just now that you are a mother?"

"A proud mother of three." The woman beamed. "My husband and I were blessed in that regard."

"Forgive my rudeness then, but how is it that you were able to hire Paris-san if you are married?" Yomaura carefully ventured, clearly wary of being a homewrecker. "If your husband does not know, you can count on our utmost discretion during this investigation-"

"My husband died five years ago, during a mountain climb with my eldest daughter." The smile remained on Rei's face, but it became noticeably dimmer. "I have not remarried or even fallen in love again since. I hired Carlton because I had to combat the loneliness."

"I see. I'm sorry for asking." Yomaura apologised.

"Not at all, you are just doing your job." Rei's smile then went from slightly dim to almost wry. "Besides, I…"

"You?" Osaki prompted her when she fell silent.

"No, never mind." The shiny black hair swished as the woman shook her head, before her smile regained some of its previous lustre. "We were speaking about Carlton."

"Yes." Yomaura nodded once, before continuing. "How long have you known Paris-san?"

"By next month, it will have been two years since I first met him at a conference for psychiatrists. I had been invited to give a guest lecture there, and once I was finished with that, Carlton appeared to keep me company during the rest of the evening."

"What was he doing at a conference for psychiatrists?" Osaki wondered. They hadn't found anything that suggested the man was at all interested in that field.

"He always claimed it was interest in the subject that brought him there, but I think he was just looking for new clients." Rei answered, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "He regularly visited large events in Fuyuki for that reason."

"What did you think about that?" Osaki pressed her slightly. "About him always searching for new clients?"

"Nothing." Rei shook her head, trying to look unaffected, but she turned out to be a rather poor liar.

"Now, that isn't true." Osaki pressed even more, his voice turning harder than before. "What did you really think about Paris-san's womanising attitude, Rei?"

"I… Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I tried to think nothing of it, even though it hurt." Rei admitted, before looking down at the ground. "I had never envisioned myself as the kind of woman who would pine after a man who spent so much time looking for new 'birds', as he called us, but here I am. You must think I am pathetic."

"Not at all." Yomaura immediately shook her head, giving Rei a smile. "Love can be a very difficult thing, and it often makes no sense. You aren't pathetic because your heart decided to be troublesome."

"Thank you, detective-san." Rei smiled back, reaching out to touch Yomaura's hand, and for some reason, the redhead tugged on her collar immediately after, a flush working its way up her neck.

"T-To get back on track, can you think of anyone who would want to harm Paris-san?" Yomaura asked the most standard question of a police interview.

"No one directly comes to mind, at least no one specific."

"And what about unspecific?"

"I don't think I am telling you anything new when I say that many men were not at all happy to see Paris-san 'snap up their women' before they could make a move." Rei thoughtfully twisted a lock of hair around her finger, digging into her memory. "Not to mention there were many men who were just plain jealous of his successes in general. Jealous men are so troublesome, you see, and sometimes even dangerous."

"Hm." The fact that Paris made many other men jealous was indeed nothing new, so Yomaura didn't bother noting it down. "What was Paris-san like as a person?"

"What was he like? Oh, well, bold, I suppose, and brash. He was confident, easy-going, quick with a joke, and even rather childish at times." Rei summed up quickly. "He was a large man, with some muscle, but he managed to act cute sometimes. I was always impressed by that. I didn't much like how lazy and vain he was though."

"Lazy and vain?" Osaki lifted an eyebrow, before he made eye contact with Yomaura, both of them surprised at Rei's unusual frankness.

So far, every woman whom they had questioned about Paris had been lyrical about him, fervently praising him into the sky and beyond, as if he'd been a god of love. Rei on the other hand was noticeably calmer about it, almost as if she hadn't really thought much of him at all.

"He was like one of those popular students you see on the television, all bombastic while still being a tiny bit adorable. Whenever I was with him, I couldn't get enough of it." Rei continued her description, before her expression became thoughtful. "Which is strange, because I normally don't like people like that at all."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Yes, it's odd, isn't it?" Rei rubbed the back of her head as she spoke, appearing puzzled herself. "Carlton was exactly the kind of man I wouldn't have wanted to have anything to do with under normal circumstances. As I said, he was childish, vain, and horribly lazy too. Whenever he was here, he just sat on the couch, having me cater to his every whim. He was rude to my children, made a mess of things, ate all the food, and he didn't even bring a present."

"I see." Osaki mumbled, while Yomaura diligently wrote down every word Rei just said, as it was a side of Carlton Paris they hadn't heard of before.

"I realise that last complaint sounds a bit odd." Rei's ears turned red in embarrassment, and she placed a hand on her cheek, smiling sheepishly, before her expression hardened again. "But I find it no more than common courtesy to take a present with you if you are going to stay at someone's house for a week. He didn't even do that though. He really was a rude, mannerless boy."

"Then why did you hire him at all?" Osaki asked, surprised by how vitriolic she was being about a man whom she'd been 'employing' for more than a year.

"I didn't want to. Every time he left this house, I promised myself that it would be the last time, that I wouldn't hire him again, yet every time, he managed to persuade me to give him another chance." Rei's expression became troubled at this point. "His charm was overwhelming, detective-san, and I couldn't resist. Not even once."

"He didn't take any liberties with you, did he?" Yomaura asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Did he force you into anything you didn't want?"

"Everything we did was consensual, I think." Rei slowly shook her head. "At least when it happened. He really had a way of ensnaring me, making me actually happy when I was with him. Despite that, I have to admit that I am almost relieved that he is gone forever. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Only if you killed him." Osaki said shortly, giving her a penetrating look.

"I did not."

"Then no, you are not a bad person. You feel what you feel, and we cannot punish people for having emotions."

"It sounds like Paris was bad news anyway." Yomaura grumbled, looking back through her notes. "I already thought that the description we got from his other clients seemed too good to be true, and now I have evidence to back it up."

It seemed her theory of Paris being not as good as he was made out to be held a little more water now.

For a few moments after that, it remained silent, as the detectives processed the new information and Rei took a deep breath to calm herself again.

"It seems I have made the mood rather awkward." Rei then said, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to vent so much."

"On the contrary, it is good that you vented." Osaki shook his head, prompting Rei to give him a curious look. "Venting often carries truth in it that you would normally keep hidden, out of subconscious politeness if nothing else. As we are investigating a murder however, that kind of truth is exactly what we need."

Rei blinked at him, her face set in an expression of adorable amazement, before she looked at Yomaura, who nodded sharply to show her agreement with her Senpai.

"That is very kind of you to say." She then smiled, looking positively angelic.

"All in a day's work." Osaki coughed into his hand again.

"Nevertheless, I feel I need to improve the mood again. Oh, I know! Would you like to meet my children?" The woman asked, not even waiting for a reply before she rose from her seat and turned around, putting her hands to her mouth to amplify her voice. "Kazuhiko! Hiroko! Aya!"

She didn't have to wait long after that, as within a few seconds, there was a right ruckus in the hallway, before the door opened and three blurs stormed into the room.

"Mother." One of the blurs said, revealing itself to be a young woman, nearing or just having reached adulthood, looking like a younger version of her mother.

"Mom." The second blur spoke, turning out to be a young woman as well, though she was about a year or two younger than her sister, and a brunette.

"Mommy." The last blur was a boy, a fair bit younger than the other two, with black hair and a face that was not at all like his mother's, suggesting he took after his father.

"Children." Rei beamed at them, her eyes shining with love and affection. "Let me introduce you to Osaki Koyo and Yomaura Taya. They are detectives, who are here to investigate Carlton Paris' murder."

"Murder?!" The oldest gasped in shock, before she froze, and then bowed. "Hello, my name is Maita Hiroko, it is a pleasure to meet you." Then she went back to her shocked expression. "Paris-san was murdered?!"

"Pfft, hi hi hi." Yomaura had to smother a laugh at the girl's act, and Osaki couldn't suppress an amused smile as well.

"I am Maita Aya." The younger girl piped up. "Does that mean Paris-san is dead now?"

"Yes, that's what 'murder' means." The boy, who by process of elimination had to be Kazuhiko, snarked, before giving a nod in Osaki's general direction. "Maita Kazuhiko. Nice to meet you."

"My children." Rei stated, her smile becoming even prouder. "Aren't they wonderful?"

In the minutes after that, it became a bit of mess, with everyone talking over each other and past each other, but eventually, Osaki managed to get Hiroko aside for a short private conversation. The girl was the oldest, and from her reaction, she'd been the most familiar with Paris, so she might have something to tell him.

She did. She certainly had something to tell him.

"I didn't like him at all." Hiroko stated in no uncertain terms. "He was an awful person."

"That is rather strongly worded." Osaki noted carefully, wondering what 'awful' meant in this context. "Did he ever-?"

"He never hit mother, if that's what you're wondering, or us, for that matter." Hiroko shook her head, before her lips twisted into a scowl. "But he was a lazy pig. Unreliable, too, extremely so. He never did anything kind for mother. He only ever took from her, giving her nothing in return except some sweet words and s-s-se… you-know-what."

"Does that make him awful though?" Osaki wondered, ignoring the girl's stumble over the word 'sex'.

"Treating mother like a maid and having her pay for it too?!" Hiroko scoffed incredulously. "I'd say that's pretty awful. Frankly, when I think of how many women he must have done the same to, it makes me sick. Just the mental picture of him sitting on a couch, making others pamper him… Ugh!"

"Well, your mother does seem like the type of person who enjoys pampering people." Osaki said slowly, glancing over at Rei, who was happily packing away the snacks she'd made earlier for Yomaura and he to take with them.

"She does like to pamper people." Hiroko agreed, before holding up a finger. "But she also likes to be pampered sometimes, and that's supposed to be a husband's or boyfriend's job, right? Paris didn't do that, ever!"

"Alright, when you say it like that, he does sound like a lousy lover." Osaki nodded. Privately, he did wonder though why Maita Rei and Hiroko were the only ones so far to complain about that. Surely, there should have been other women who were also annoyed with this apparent freeloader?

"He was the worst! The kind of boyfriend they always warn you about at school! The lazy lay-about that only ever shows up for money and food." Hiroko spat. "He was really mean to Kazuhiko too, though he always acted sweetly to Aya and me. It was creepy as hell!"

"I can see how that must have been unpleasant." Osaki said diplomatically. "Though I do have to say that rude behaviour alone should not be enough to be murdered over."

"No, of course not!" Hiroko agreed wholeheartedly. "Being rude does not carry the death-penalty. I can't say I am very sad though about him never coming here again."

"That is your right." Osaki said mildly, having much experience with people expressing similar sentiments about almost every murder victim he'd ever seen. Most people who got murdered weren't exactly nice people themselves after all. "Paris certainly doesn't sound like the best representative of us men."

"Definitely not!" Hiroko agreed again, nodding furiously.

"He must have been much worse than your father." Osaki continued with what he thought was a kind remark, before blinking when Hiroko went completely still, her eyes becoming alarmingly dull. "Oi, kid?"

Did he just step on a landmine? It had been five years since that guy died, right? Or was he being insensitive again? Perhaps he should call over Rei before he did anything to make it worse-

"My father…" Hiroko suddenly began slowly, drawing Osaki's attention back at her as she opened and closed her mouth continuously, apparently searching for words. "He…"

"You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." Osaki tried to set her at ease, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Carlton Paris was a swine." Hiroko mumbled, almost thoughtfully, before a flame sprang to life in her previously dull eyes, a hateful flame. "But he was infinitely better than my father! Just about anyone would have been better than my accursed father!"

"Of course." Osaki nodded quickly. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it-"

"Mother always picks the worst kind of men to take home with her." Hiroko went on, the fire in her eyes still burning bright. "Paris was just one example on a very long list. It had even gotten to the point where I selected mother's dates for her, at least before Paris came along and snapped her up."

"Kid, you don't have to tell me this-"

"She is just much too trusting, and scumbags are always standing ready to take advantage of her."

"I understand that-"

"But even among scumbags, my father was a special kind of bad." Hiroko had bared her teeth at this point, hissing like an angry cat. "He might have been decent in the beginning, I don't know, I wasn't born yet, but what I do know is that he never got over the fact that mother was more successful at her job than he was at his. He was some kind of financial advisor, but frankly, he was lousy at it, losing more money than he earned. Mother then always paid off the difference so he wouldn't get sued, but instead of being grateful, he started hating her for it."

"I suppose that isn't unusual-"

"Because that's the problem with arrogant men, isn't it? They can't handle it when women are better than they are. Then they get violent."

"Violent? Kid, are you saying-"

"I do feel somewhat sad that Paris is dead. He was never violent." Hiroko sighed, finally gaining back a semblance of calm. "But my father can rot in hell for all I care."

"I see." Osaki felt a bit overwhelmed by the outburst, but he had understood enough to conclude that Rei's husband had to have been particularly bad for his own daughter to hate him so.

"Well, there you have it, my feelings have been laid bare to you, you brute." Hiroko then glared at him, taking him aback with her sudden irritation. "Are you happy now? Ugh, police officers are always so nosey. Always snooping around, forcing me to talk about uncomfortable subjects."

"Pardon me?" Osaki almost couldn't believe his ears, but she ignored him, turning around with a huff and walking away.

Before she left though, she turned around one more time, and suddenly, she was smiling again.

"You seem nice." She told him, again taking him aback with how quickly she seemed to change moods. "If you and your wife, Yomaura-san, ever want to take mother as your mistress, you have my blessing."

Then, before Osaki could react to the outrageous statement, she was gone.

After the third day of the trials was over, Shirou was once again left to his own devices.

Lady Barthomeloi and Lady Montmorency had a lot of work they needed to do to prepare for the next day, Lord El-Melloi was working hard at creating stability within his departments again, aided by Grey, Flat, Svin, Lehrman, and the rest of the lot, and even Illya was probably fast asleep by now, as it was already nine in the evening.

Even though she was well over eighteen, her body was that of a ten-year-old, and that meant she needed a lot of sleep. Of course, if it was up to her, she'd stay awake for as long as she could, but Sella had quickly vetoed that, with Shirou's support.

Just like the day before, he was left with nothing to do, and so, to kill some time, he decided to make his way over to the Clocktower's kitchens, so he could cook again.

Well, he said 'Clocktower's kitchens', but frankly, it was just one of the many kitchens that were located within the headquarters of the Magus Association. Shirou didn't know the exact numbers, but he'd heard from one of the cooks he'd spoken to that there were possibly more than a hundred of them spread out through the conglomeration.

Discounting the private kitchens in the dorm rooms of course.

Most of these hundred kitchens were used by single families, or perhaps a small group of families. Those families had the kitchens built on private land and only employed cooks they completely trusted. It was a measure against poison and other unpleasant surprises in their food, and though Shirou would love to dismiss those families as overly paranoid, they were likely right to worry about such things.

Lady Barthomeloi for instance should really keep a very close eye on her food and on those preparing it, and the same went for Lady Montmorency and other key-figures in the Clocktower. There was no doubt after all that there were many people out there who would love nothing more than to pour a nasty poison down their throats. The best weapon against that was undoubtedly a private kitchen and cooks selected specifically for their loyalty.

The less important Magi however did not have a private kitchen or carefully selected employees. They had to make do with the public cafeterias.

These public cafeterias were located at strategic points throughout the Clocktower, to make sure everyone could get to one within an acceptable amount of time, even when walking. They were open all day, every day, and served all kinds of meals, from the simplest toast with butter to the most elaborate combinations of salmon, shrimp, caviar, and who-knew-what-else.

The public cafeterias were not all the same of course. They had plenty of variety between them in size, luxury, and price-range. The only feature they all shared was that they were open to everyone, no matter their standing, as long as they behaved themselves well and could pay the bills. From the highest lords to the lowest serfs, everyone was allowed to enter, at least in theory.

Of these public cafeterias, the one in the main hall was undoubtedly the largest and cheapest of them all. It prepared and served hundreds, if not thousands of meals per day, single-handedly taking care of close to one-third of the food-logistics of the Clocktower, while still managing to keep their prices low enough that even the poorest could afford to buy one or two simple meals per day.

It was a place where lower-class and middle-class Magi could meet outside of their departments, to exchange information, to make deals, and to build connections. Here, Enforcers got their jobs from people in need of their strength, merchants could peddle their wares, Crest-Tuners and other specialised personnel offered their services, and Magi could take a break from their research and go out for a while in a veritably risk-free environment.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it one of the Clocktower's centres, alongside the arena and the main library. It was simply that important.

Because it was so large, it also employed the most cooks and other staff of all the cafeterias, by far. Dozens of people were running around in the kitchen and through the café in an effort to make it run smoothly. There were so many of them that no one would notice it if an extra person was added to their number, and that was the main reason why Shirou had chosen this kitchen to help out in.

It was the second day that Shirou visited the place, and though the staff had initially been terrified of him –because of obvious reasons– they'd warmed up to him over the course of the evening, until they barely even acknowledged his presence anymore, except when needed.

Today again, Shirou was mostly ignored as he entered the kitchen, only a few waitresses and the odd cook giving him a quick nod before they sped off again. All the others kept their eyes on their work, busy as they were.

There was however one exception.

"Shirou! You're back!" A boisterous voice thundered as Shirou put on an apron and a chef's hat, and the redhead turned around to face the owner of the voice. "Excellent! We need all hands on deck!"

The man who had spoken was short, plump, and old. He had a few tufts of grey hair spread around on his scalp, numerous wrinkles on his face, and his uniform could not hide the frailty of his body. Nevertheless, his eyes were full of energy, and as he made his way over to Shirou, everyone gave him a wide berth, not out of fear, but out of respect.

Which was only logical, considering he was the head cook, the one in charge of the cafeteria, and thus the boss of everyone here.

"Emmanuel." Shirou acknowledged the elderly cook, who'd been the first to dare to address him yesterday, when he'd stepped into this kitchen for the first time. "Are we busy again?"

"Terribly! The trials have just finished, you know? All those people who were watching them want food now. We have to hurry." Emmanuel wasted not a second in dragging Shirou over to a free stove, before handing him a ton of orders. "We have important guests too. There is not a moment to lose."

"I'll get to it immediately." Shirou nodded, quickly scanning the notes, before he turned on the stove and put the pans on the fire. "I can handle it from here, Emmanuel."

"I do not doubt it for a second, my boy. Good luck." Then the elderly cook was off again, back to his own dishes and his management work, and for the next twenty minutes, Shirou worked in silence, quickly working his way through the orders, using his enhanced abilities to work faster than ten normal men.

Of course, once he'd finished his orders, Lia, one of the cafeteria's waitresses, immediately gave him several new ones, and then even more once he'd finished those, and so on, practically giving him five times the work of the other cooks.

Shirou didn't mind though. It was nice to be cooking again after almost two months of not seeing a single kitchen from the inside, and he had a lot of excess energy stored away after a full day of sitting absolutely still next to Lady Barthomeloi.

Admittedly, he had feared at the beginning that he might have become rusty, that his cooking skills were subpar and not worthy of the cafeteria, but a steady stream of compliments from the customers had put those fears to rest again.

He wasn't quite as good as Emmanuel or the other experienced cooks, but he was easily as good as the average cook here, maybe even a bit better.

"I'm sorry for making you work so much again, Shirou." Syr, another waitress, said once there was a small lull, giving him an apologetic expression and a pout, which was made extra effective by her adorable features and silver hair. "We are just so horribly understaffed. We are trying to attract more employees of course, but it's slow-going."

"It's no problem, honestly." Shirou shook his head, trying to set her at ease. "I like cooking, so there's no need to worry about me."

"Even so…" Syr trailed off, clearly still concerned, but Shirou simply kept smiling. He had told her nothing but the truth. He liked cooking, he could easily handle the work they gave him, and he was only glad to help.

In all honesty, though he wasn't going to say it out loud, he also felt kind of responsible for their current predicament. It was because of the Purge that many members of the cafeteria's staff had taken temporary leave, in order to wait out the storm, which placed the blame for their current manpower-shortage straight at Shirou's feet.

The least he could do to make up for that was to help them until they got back on their feet again.

But really, he also did it for fun. Being a cook was seen, righteously, as a stressful occupation, but to Shirou, it was relaxing. Even a hundred orders were not enough to faze him now, it would take a lot more than that to bring him off balance.

"Lady Barthomeloi is here!" Lia whisper-shouted as she stormed into the kitchen, her black hair bouncing behind her as she ran.

Yeah, something like that.

"L-Lady Barthomeloi?" Syr stuttered, turning as white as a sheet, and she wasn't nearly the only one who reacted with shock, as everyone in the kitchen either dropped something or froze on the spot. "W-What is she doing here?!"

"That's what I am wondering." Shirou frowned. Lady Barthomeloi had her own kitchen, staffed with the best cooks in the entire world, so there was no reason for her to be here. "Is she just passing through?"

"N-No, she sat down at a table." Lia shook her head so fast it became a blur. "I-I think she wants to order something."

"Shirou." Emmanuel suddenly appeared again, summoned by the emergency. "You are familiar with Lady Barthomeloi, no? Could I ask you to go and see what she wants?"

"I will." Shirou nodded, already in the process of taking off his apron and hat. "I am rather curious myself."

"Do wear the jacket." Emmanuel pleaded, handing him the jacket that waiters of the cafeteria were always supposed to wear when on the job.

Seeing no reason to refuse, Shirou put it on, before walking out of the kitchen, straight to Lady Barthomeloi.

He almost tripped over his own feet when he saw that she was wearing the shirt-and-skirt combination again –was it just him though or was the skirt even shorter than before?!– but in the end, he managed to reach her table with his dignity intact.

"Lady Barthomeloi." He acknowledged her curtly, drawing her attention away from the menu cart. "What are you doing here?"

"There are matters I wish to discuss with you." She answered, her voice brokering no argument, and she gestured at the chair on the other end of her table.

"You are here for me?" Shirou frowned at her reply, wondering why she hadn't brought these 'matters' up while they had been at the trial together for most of the day. "Then you will have to wait. I am working now."

"How long will that take?" She asked, fortunately not trying to force him into a meeting anyway, nor did she comment on how odd it was for him to be working in the cafeteria.

"Until the busiest time is over. I'd say around two hours."

"Very well." She accepted easily, before crossing her legs, which exposed a rather uncomfortable amount of her thighs, though she didn't seem to realise that. "I shall wait."

"Would you like to order anything while you wait?"

"A crème soup with smoked salmon, kobe beef with almond au foie, and white alba truffles." Lady Barthomeloi summed up quickly, apparently having made her choice already. "As well as a glass of tap water. Please ensure it is not poisoned."

"Crème soup, smoked salmon, kobe beef with almond au foie, white alba truffles, and a glass of tap water, all of them not poisoned." Shirou repeated back to her.

"Correct. Please prepare it yourself."

"Coming right up." Shirou nodded, before returning to the kitchen.

"Boy, you're back!" Emmanuel cried once the redhead stepped inside, and everyone inside the kitchen once more dropped what they were doing to pay attention. "What did she want?!"

"A crème soup with smoked salmon, kobe beef with almond au foie, and white alba truffles." Shirou summed up, walking back to his stove. "As well as a glass of tap water."

"She just wanted food?" Syr spluttered, her normally mischievous expression distorted in confusion and light panic.

"No, she wanted to talk with me." Shirou shook his head, firing up the stove again. "I told her she'd have to wait though, so she decided to have dinner instead."

"Y-Y-You are making the Queen wait?!" Emmanuel looked seconds away from a heart attack, and Syr and Lia looked barely any better.

"I am busy here now, am I not?" Shirou huffed, putting more butter onto the frying pan, before crushing the almonds and slicing the truffles. "She will have to wait for now."

"…" Utterly speechless, Emmanuel stumbled away, while Syr and Lia continued gaping at Shirou, astounded by his audaciousness.

Shirou himself just continued working though. The food wasn't going to make itself.

In the meantime, the cafeteria was dealing much better with the arrival of Lady Barthomeloi than the kitchen.

Granted, this was mainly because most of the customers hadn't even noticed she was there –she hadn't really bothered to be stealthy, but she hadn't made a scene either– and the ones that did notice kept their mouths shut, knowing what was good for them.

In other words, there was no ruckus to speak of, and the customers could eat in relative peace, to the extent that peace was at all possible in the Clocktower.

One of those customers was Waver, and Waver was having himself a nice, quiet dinner, accompanied by Grey and Marianne, though they had all disguised themselves a bit.

Nothing too extensive, merely different hairstyles and outfits, as well as glasses for Marianne and Grey, but it had been largely sufficient for them not to be recognised so far.

Waver tugged on the collar of his brown sweater, which he'd borrowed from Melvin, meaning it was a bit too small for him, and then thanked the Root that his reddish-brown trousers, which had been borrowed from Bram, were well-fitting at least.

In the meantime, Grey shifted a bit in her sky-blue dress, before drawing the hood of her hoodie even further over her head. Marianne on the other hand sat perfectly poised in her black evening dress, looking graceful as ever.

They made for a bit of a strange trio, but they didn't fall too badly out of tone, and so far, no one had recognised them.

Or at least, almost no one.

"You want me to become your sponsor?" Waver asked, looking at the three girls standing opposite of him, all of them nervous to varying degrees. "Are you sure about that?"

"We are." Fiore Forvedge confirmed, and Rosaly von Stahlen-Frobrecht and Marie Alva nodded in agreement. "W-We aren't necessarily looking for a full sponsorship, but we'd like to join the El-Melloi-faction at least."

The three girls had arrived at the cafeteria with only the intention of eating dinner together, but Fiore had proven herself extremely observant, easily spotting and recognising Waver despite his best attempts at blending in. As soon as she had, the girls had gone over to him, to ask if he would be willing to take them as his employees.

In this context, taking them on as his employees essentially meant he was giving them a diluted version of a sponsorship. He gave them protection, resources, and knowledge, and in exchange, they would work for him whenever he needed manpower for something.

"Well, fine then." Waver accepted, since he was honestly quite short on people in Mineralogy after the Meluastea had gutted it. "Are you fine with joining Mineralogy or do you have a preference for Modern Magical Theory?"

"…Mineralogy is fine." Fiore said after a few moments, looking utterly thrown that he'd accepted their request so easily.

"Excellent. I must warn you though that we are currently in the middle of a reconstruction, so it might be a while before I can deliver the research facilities and resources that are worthy of a Department of the Clocktower."

"T-That is fine." Rosaly von Stahlen-Frobrecht muttered, looking just as surprised as Fiore. "We would be happy to contribute to the reconstruction ourselves, if you so desire."

"That is very generous of you." Waver smiled, happily surprised by their well-willingness. "I would be glad with any help you can offer."

"You…" Marie Alva began, before she fell silent again. Then she tried once more. "You… are strange."

"Yes." Waver nodded. He didn't know what facet of his character exactly she was referring to, but he was well aware he was unusual to say the least. "I am quite odd, perhaps even insane, but that is hardly relevant for this discussion."

"Sir." Grey sighed softly from beside him, and he felt her pull on the back of his sweater. "Don't say such things about yourself."

Marianne didn't say anything, but she did place her hand on Waver's wrist, indicating she agreed with Grey.

"I had intended to eat my dinner here, so why don't you join me and tell me what you expect from me." Waver didn't respond to their gestures though, and instead invited the three girls to sit down at his table. He'd been assigned an extra big one, perhaps because he was a lord, and that meant he had a lot of room left. "I am not buying you dinner though. This is the cheapest cafeteria in the Clocktower, foot your own bill."

That remark prompted a small snort of amusement from Marianne, though Grey's grip on his sweater tightened.

"You are being rude, Sir." She muttered.

"My wallet is painfully empty, I'm afraid." He muttered back, and Grey had to accede the point.

You couldn't be generous if you didn't have anything after all. Or worse, were majorly in the red already.

"I'll pay for the three of us." Fiore offered with a pained smile, undoubtedly having heard their little conversation about Waver's lack of money. "And thank you for accepting us as your employees."

"As I said, it is not a problem. You are helping me out as well." Waver huffed, before cocking his head to the side. "Say, why is it so shocking to you that I would accept your request?"

"We thought you would be buried under requests of this nature by now." Rosaly replied, nervously fingering the menu cart. "I heard somewhere that taking on apprentices and employees requires a lot of work, so we didn't think you'd bother with insignificant people like us."

"Yes, apprenticeships, where I have to be your full sponsor, can be quite troublesome indeed." Waver agreed, before he smiled wryly. "Something tells me though that the three of you don't want a full apprenticeship. You just want the protection my name provides, and to be left alone otherwise. That is hardly difficult."

"I-I see." Rosaly muttered, averting her gaze in embarrassment. "We'll try not to bother you."

"You can always come to me if there's a problem. If you come to work for me, you'll be my responsibility." Waver said, before holding up a finger. "Do keep in mind though that I am hopeless at Magecraft. If you want help with your Thaumaturgy, all I can do is refer you to someone else."

"Understood." Marie smiled, her eyes twinkling ever so slightly in amusement. "You truly are a man full of contradictions, Lord El-Melloi."

"I try." Waver nodded, before noticing that a waiter had just arrived at their table. "Ah, good evening. I would like a glass of Gris de Pepe as an appetizer, followed by a basket of baguette slices and herb butter, and- HUH?! Fujimaru?!"

"Good evening, Lord El-Melloi." Shirou Fujimaru, Waver's very own student, possible Sorcerer, and personal friend of Lady Barthomeloi, answered calmly, clad in a waiter-outfit, writing in his notebook as if there was nothing wrong with it. "Please continue. I would like to hear your order in full."

"Forget about my order! What are you doing here?!" Waver spluttered, unable to prevent his voice from sounding choked.

"I'm helping out at this cafeteria." Fujimaru answered as if it was obvious.

"I can see that!" Waver bristled, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "What I mean is, why are you helping out at this cafeteria?"

"Because they needed the help, and because I like cooking." Fujimaru still sounded entirely casual about it, before he turned towards the girls, giving them a short nod in greeting. "Good evening, miss Forvedge, miss Von Stahlen-Frobrecht, miss Alva. I am happy to see you are doing well."

"Good evening, mister Fujimaru." Fiore replied, giving him an easy smile. "Yes, we are indeed doing quite well. What about yourself?"

"A bit busy, but nothing I cannot handle." Fujimaru smiled back at the brunette. "I heard you will be joining the Department of Mineralogy?"

"You heard correctly." Fiore, who apparently had taken on the role of spokesperson for the moment, nodded. "Being independent isn't the best of ideas during these troublesome times, except for someone like yourself of course."

That last bit was quickly added on to the previous sentence, perhaps to avoid angering Fujimaru, but the redhead just looked a bit forlorn after hearing it.

"Independent? I wish." He sighed, glancing to the side for a moment, after which his expression became outright miserable. "I'm afraid my choice has already been made for me."

No one really knew how to answer that, so it remained silent for a while, before Waver decided to cut in, as there were still several questions he wanted an answer to.

"So you work here now?" He asked, rather hung up on that still.

"For now, yes." Fujimaru perked up again at Waver's question, readily answering it. "I decided to work the evenings here after the trials are over, to relax a bit. I usually work in the kitchen though, not as a waiter."

"Then what has caused you to stray so far from your normal task today?"

"You, Lord El-Melloi." Fujimaru pointed at him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Lords of Ruling Families don't tend to dine here. Your presence here was rather shocking for the normal staff." The redhead explained, and Waver flushed a bit in embarrassment. "Especially since Lady Barthomeloi arrived here a short while before you did."

"The Vice-Director was here?!" That was Marie Alva, who reacted like a spooked rabbit at the mention of that name. Considering it wasn't all that long ago that Lady Barthomeloi wanted to kill her, the reaction wasn't unwarranted.

"She still is." Fujimaru pointed off into the distance, and following his finger, Waver indeed found Lorelei Barthomeloi sitting at a table in the very same cafeteria, once more wearing oddly casual clothes, which was probably the main reason she wasn't immediately recognised. "I took her order as well, just now. The beef has to rest for a few minutes though, so I had some time to come and take your orders as well. On that note, have you been able to make a choice yet?"

That question was asked to the entire table, and Waver, who decided to just give up and accept the situation without fuzz, completed the order he'd broken off previously, after which the girls also placed theirs.

"Thank you for your patronage. Your orders will arrive soon." Fujimaru said solemnly, before turning around to return to the kitchen.

"Hold it." A voice suddenly said sternly.

It took a few seconds for Waver to realise it had been his own voice –he hadn't intended to call out, but it had just happened– but once he did, and Fujimaru had turned back to him with a curious look, he decided to make the most of it.

"Why is Lady Barthomeloi here?" He thus asked.

"To speak with me, apparently." Fujimaru looked over his shoulder for a moment, at the lady in question, before turning back. "I don't know about what though. I told her to wait until the busy hours have passed."

"You are making her wait?" Waver managed to keep his voice calm this time, but only just. "That is a bold move, Fujimaru."

"It's nothing personal. I simply have work to do." Fujimaru frowned a bit, crossing his arms. "Besides, she has ordered dinner herself, so evidently, she doesn't mind."

How on Earth was Waver supposed to answer that?!

"Well, as long as Lady Barthomeloi agrees." He eventually settled on the diplomatic option. "Heh, you've come quite far. It's hard to believe we were biting our nails off over one meeting with Lady Barthomeloi only a month ago."

"Things have changed quickly." Fujimaru agreed, though he made no comment on whether the change was good or bad. "Lord El-Melloi, I apologise, but I really have to get back to work."

"Of course, I will no longer keep you." Waver nodded. "I wish you the best of luck, Fujimaru."

"Thank you, sir. You as well." Fujimaru nodded back, and then he was off for real.

"Well then, to get back to our own conversation." Waver turned towards his newest students again, ready to continue hashing out their arrangements. "What exactly are your fields of research?"

"The more I learn about Carlton Paris, the more I get the idea that he was some kind of drug."

That was the bombshell that Ayako suddenly dropped during lunch at the Emiya-estate, and both Rin and Sakura froze with their spoons in their mouths, in identical positions, for a moment allowing the world to see that they were indeed sisters.

"Drugs?" Rin asked in stupefaction once she'd swallowed her mouthful, knowing perfectly well what those were from the mandatory classes at school that were meant to arm teenagers against the stuff. "What do you mean?"

"How can a person be a drug?" Sakura added, looking quite mystified. "Do you mean he was a golem made of drugs?"

"Or had he been infused with the Concept of drugs?" Rin wondered, before she frowned. "But how would you know that sooner than me?"

"Okay, girls, stop." Ayako held up a hand to stop the nonsense. "That is not what I meant. I am just trying to say that the effect he had on his clients is uncannily similar to that of drugs."

"In what way?" Rin asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well, let's check them one by one, shall we? First of all, judge Koyama, who said Paris-san was the only thing making her happy. Okay, she didn't say it directly, but that was pretty much the gist of it."

"That doesn't have to mean anything." Sakura cocked her head to the side, slowly scratching her cheek. "Maybe she was just in love."

"Second, the idol, Nagao Harumi. Even though she is a very famous idol who earns millions per year, she was risking it all just to be with Paris-san."

"It could be love again." Rin offered, though she sounded unsure.

"Third, Kaneshiro Yoko, who clearly didn't care much about him yet kept hiring him all the same."

"Definitely not love." Sakura agreed, looking very pensive now. "And Kaneshiro-san did not look like the kind of woman who is so desperate for companionship she'd keep hiring a man she didn't much care for."

"Fourth, and this one really got me thinking, is Sumida Gina." Ayako leaned forward at this point, and Sakura and Rin unconsciously followed her example, bringing their heads together. "Don't you think that her erratic behaviour looked a lot like those rehabilitating addicts in the clips that they showed us during those special classes?"

"Now that you mention it, yes." Sakura nodded, her eyes widening in shock. "Do you mean she was going through withdrawal?"

"I am neither a doctor nor a psychologist, so I wouldn't know exactly, but it sure looked like it." Ayako nodded. "As for the last piece of evidence I have-"

"Maita Rei." Rin concluded, nodding to herself. "Yes, the woman who didn't even like Paris-san, at all, yet found herself utterly unable to resist him whenever he showed up again in her life."

"Indeed." Ayako concurred. "Now, it could be of course that when God was handing out male charm and charisma, Paris-san took an extra helping, but recently, I learned all about this strange world full of amazing things, and I cannot help but wonder if Paris-san wasn't using some kind of… 'help'."

"A love-spell, you mean?" Rin raised an eyebrow, before shaking her head. "Something like that does not exist."

"Good to know, but it wasn't what I meant." Ayako corrected her. "Like I said, his clients are clearly going through withdrawal symptoms, and while I know that there's no such thing as a love drug in the normal world, I don't know that for sure about the Moonlit World."

"Something as intangible and undefined as love cannot be artificially created, with either a spell or a drug." Rin repeated.

"What about a drug that can make you obsessed with someone though?"

"…Well." Rin hesitated in her reply, her brow creasing deeply as she thought. "I cannot entirely rule out the existence of such a substance. Considering Hypnosis exists, it is not unthinkable that a Magus somewhere managed to crystalize that power and alter it in such a way that it induces obsession."

"So it is possible?" Ayako asked eagerly.

"That it is possible does not mean it is what happened though." Sakura reminded them, her brow creased just as deeply as Rin's. "I mean, can you honestly believe that a Magus would waste that kind of power on preying on rich women for years?"

"He might have been doing other stuff on the side." Ayako tried, defending her theory. "And it does explain the behaviour of his clients."

"It is an explanation, yes, but there is no proof it is the correct one." Sakura countered, her voice rising slightly. "I for one find the idea of Carlton Paris being a Magus exceedingly unlikely."

"He could have stolen the powder?"

"We don't even know whether there is a powder at all, Ayako."

"But if we assume for the moment that there is…"

"Which we have no proof of-"

"You know what? We're going to determine this once and for all." Rin interrupted their discussion, looking quite fed up with their back-and-forth. "Tomorrow, we're going to visit Maita Rei again, or judge Koyama, or that idol, or whoever, and I will examine them for any possible traces of Magecraft. That should tell us whether Paris was indeed a Magus or a thief or something."

"Ah, that's a good idea, Nee-san." Sakura agreed, happy that her sister had managed to settle the issue so decisively.

"Yes, good going, Rin." Ayako praised her enthusiastically.

"Hm, well, naturally." Rin huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, before looking down her nose at them. "So stop your senseless bickering. What would Emiya-kun think if he saw you squabbling like that?"

"Nothing wrong with a lively discussion, Rin." Ayako grinned. "It wasn't as if we were arguing."

"Hm." Rin closed her eyes for a moment, before she sighed deeply. "Well, whatever. Do we want to visit Rei-san again today or shall we wait until tomorrow?"

"Senpai is due to call in an hour, so I think it would be better to wait until tomorrow." Sakura replied, casting a look at the phone with a soft smile. "We aren't in a rush."

"Very well." Ayako nodded, before frowning. "No, wait. I have to visit my parents first tomorrow. We have a doctor's appointment together in the morning."

"Your health comes first of course." Rin said sagely. "We can wait until you're back."

"Indeed." Sakura agreed.

"Thanks, girls! I appreciate it." Ayako beamed, giving Sakura a kiss on the cheek and Rin a pat on the shoulder.

"That is nothing to thank us for." Rin grumbled, before spluttering angrily when Ayako gave her a kiss on the cheek as well.

She really was so adorable.

It was nearing eleven in the evening when the dinner rush finally came to a close in the main cafeteria of the Clocktower. Just about everyone had eaten their fill by now, and after they'd had a last drink, the guests started wandering off again, to their Workshops, their offices, their beds, or even to actual pubs to continue drinking.

With the rush over, there was a lot of cleaning up to do. Shirou had been all poised to help out with that, but Emmanual and Syr had resolutely forbidden it. The Vice Director was waiting for him after all, and there was no way they were going to make her wait for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

As such, he'd practically been evicted from the kitchen, and he wasn't to come back until he had settled matters with the Queen.

"Lady Barthomeloi? I am free now." Shirou said as he walked up to the lady's table. "You had something to talk about with me?"

"Fujimaru, take a seat." She motioned towards the chair on the other side of her table, and Shirou gladly accepted the offer. "Yes, there are several matters to discuss."

"Matters that could not be discussed during or after the trial?" Shirou asked, wondering what her motives here were.

"I am aware the timing of this conversation is not ideal." Lady Barthomeloi acknowledged, looking vaguely apologetic. "However, I ask that you accept it nonetheless."

"I am here, am I not?" Shirou sighed, not missing the fact she hadn't answered his question at all. "So yeah, I accept it."

"Much obliged." She nodded, before she looked around a bit, and then muttered several spells under her breath.

The next moment, several Bounded Fields against eavesdropping went up, and Shirou, who by now was more than aware that there was no such thing as being too cautious in the Clocktower, took the liberty of adding several more himself, which got him a small nod from the brunette.

"Are you a Sorcerer?" She then asked bluntly.

Despite having expected a question like that at some point or another –she'd directly seen him turn Marie Alva back into a human after all, which could easily be mistaken for him using the Third True Magic– Shirou was still momentarily flummoxed by her directness.

Nevertheless, he answered promptly.

With a lie.

"Yes." He nodded, almost embarrassed by how easily the deceptive answer flowed out of his mouth. "I am. But you knew that already."

"I did." She seemed glad he wasn't going to try and deny it. "Are you aware of the implications of this?"

"Of me being a Sorcerer or of you knowing that I am a Sorcerer?"

"Both, and furthermore, of the inevitability of the entire Magus Association learning of this soon." The brunette warned him gravely. "Lady Montmorency has recently learned that several key-figures in the Democratic Faction are aware of your nature, and she believes a dozen others have their own suspicions. Your true nature will not stay secret for much longer."

"…" Shirou closed his eyes for a moment, wallowing in desperation as Lady Barthomeloi confirmed he was going to be even more notorious in the Moonlit World. What made it even worse was the fact that he actually wasn't a Sorcerer, but that the actual explanation would make the situation ten times worse.

God or Sorcerer, which one would attract more attention at this point…?

"I am of course aware you do not desire attention." Lady Barthomeloi sounded ever so slightly sympathetic as she said this. "And I do not plan on forcing you to stay here and serve me. I merely wish to ascertain that our agreements still stand."

"Okay, first of all, I have to tell you that I am not a full Sorcerer." That was important to get clear, at least in Shirou's opinion, before she started having all kinds of expectations from him which he could never live up to. "I have not mastered the Third, not by a long shot."

"I am aware of this too." She replied soothingly. "Mastering a True Magic is similar in that regard to mastering a Magecraft. It is a long and arduous path, and I do not expect you to perform Miracles at will."

"Yes." Shirou nodded, glad to see she understood so well. "Yes, good, thank you."

"Still, even the potential to master a True Magic is something that is not often seen." Apparently, Lady Barthomeloi had a flair for understatement as well. "As such, you have become extremely valuable, and thus coveted. You will likely receive many requests for alliances with numerous factions. In light of that, Lady Montmorency and I would appreciate some kind of assurance that you will remain in our faction."

"Of course. As long as you continue to work under the law, avoid harming innocents, and keep the Magi in line, I will stay on your side." Shirou reiterated the, somewhat implied, promise he had with her.

"That is good to hear." She didn't quite smile at him, but it was close enough. "To that same effect, I wish to discuss the apprenticeship of your friend. The one I promised you in exchange for your help in subduing the Meluastea."

"Oh!" Shirou had almost forgotten about that. "Yes, of course. That is still on, I hope?"

"It is." She confirmed. "All I need now are the details."

"The details?"

"When will she arrive? What is her field of research? How many accomplishments does she have?" Lady Barthomeloi gave him several examples, and although Shirou knew the answers to all three questions, he decided to go another way.

"Would it be possible for my friend to contact you herself soon?" The redhead asked, already drawing up ways in his head of arranging an untraceable line of communication between Rin and Lady Barthomeloi. "I think she can much better answer your questions than I."

"I shall allow it." She made a strange half-circular motion with her hand, which almost seemed like a part of a spell, though it didn't carry any Magical Energy. "Monday from five in the afternoon to nine in the evening. Wednesday from nine in the evening to twelve in the night. Saturday from midday to midnight. Those are the times I will be available the coming year, bar any unforeseen circumstances."

"I see." Shirou nodded, memorising the stated times. "I will make sure she calls you so you can sort out the details."

"Nevertheless, I would still appreciate it if you could tell me her primary field of research." Lady Barthomeloi repeated. "So that I may prepare suitable lessons."

"She practices Gemcraft." Shirou decided to just tell her. "Are you familiar with it?"

"Very. It is not my preferred field, but I have considerable talent for it." The brunette sounded almost boastful as she said this, before her eyes gleamed with pride. "My Attribute is that of the Almighty after all."

That was the second time she'd told him about her Attribute, and both times, it had been with great pride. Perhaps Shirou should try to find out at some point what it was.

"I'm glad to hear you are so capable." He replied eventually, which obviously stroked her ego even more. "Have you never contemplated trying to learn a True Magic yourself?"

"I have." She confirmed, her prideful expression making place for a somewhat sour one. "I do not have talent for any of them. At least not for the First, the Second, or the Third."

"What about the Fourth and the Fifth?"

"I have never pursued them." She admitted, conveying an air of perfect uncaringness. "It is said that the First changed everything, the Second was acknowledged by many, and that the Third showed the indomitable future. However, the Fourth was superfluous, and the Fifth an outright mistake. It is the general consensus among experts that it should have stopped at the Third. I will not lower myself to the point where I study such inelegant crafts as the Fourth and the Fifth."

"Really now?" Shirou had never heard of that before, but it sounded pretty interesting. "Could you explain that a bit more?"

He knew the basics of Sorcery of course, every single Magus in the World did, but Lady Barthomeloi was the Vice-Director of the Clocktower, which meant she held knowledge he couldn't even imagine.

"Do you know what the True Magics are?" Lady Barthomeloi first posed her own question.

"Vaguely." Shirou rubbed his chin. "I would appreciate it though if you could start from the beginning. What are the five True Magics?"

"The First True Magic is commonly known as the Denial of Nothingness, but that is only a facet of it." She began explaining immediately, holding up a finger in a very Rin-like fashion. "In truth, it is Illusion. Illusion powerful enough to fool Reality itself, thereby making it Truth."

"I think I can see how that works." Shirou mused. If something was created by Illusion, but Reality thought it was real, then it was real. Whether that was objects, concepts, images, or anything else.

"The Second is the Operation of Parallel Worlds, the Kaleidoscope." Lady Barthomeloi continued, her lips pursing in distaste for some reason. "I do not believe this requires explanation."

"It does not."

"The Third, as you well know, is the Heaven's Feel, the Materialisation of the Soul. Resurrecting the Dead without any negative consequences."

"Indeed." Shirou nodded. So far, she hadn't really told him anything new, but now the Fourth and Fifth were coming, the Magics he knew very little about.

"The Fourth concerns Time Travel." She explained, her finger going down again as her face turned neutral and bored. "And the Fifth relates to the absolute control over Entropy, and thus the Heat Death of the universe."

"…Aren't Time Travel and Entropy Control essentially the same thing?" Shirou decided to ask, having learned as much during physics class. "And do they not both belong to the Second Magic anyway?"

Time and Space were intrinsically linked. One could say that without Time, there was no Space, and without Space, there was no Time. They were essentially the x-axis and the y-axis of existence, which was why the phrase 'time-space continuum' held any meaning.

"The Fourth and the Fifth are indeed essentially the same." Lady Barthomeloi confirmed immediately. "And they do indeed both belong to the Second Magic. Essentially, the Fourth is a domain of the Second, and the Fifth a domain of the Fourth. That is why they are superfluous and a mistake respectively."

"I understand." Shirou nodded, carefully memorising all he had just learned. "That is… interesting."

"It is for that reason I am surprised that the current Master of the Second, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, has not yet dealt with the up-and-coming Master of the Fifth, Aoko Aozaki." Lady Barthomeloi continued, before she sighed. "But the Old Man of the Jewels has never paid much heed to the rules. For all that I know, he merely considers it hilarious."

"That does sound like the Zelretch I have heard about." Shirou nodded. He'd mainly heard about that guy from Rin, who hadn't been shy about telling him of the Kaleidoscope's antics in relation to her family, so while he wasn't an expert by any means, he knew enough to say that that guy did not play by anyone's rules but his own.

"That is all I know about the True Magics." Lady Barthomeloi admitted, tapping a single finger on the table. "There is some technical stuff, but that would take too long to explain and mostly consists of formulas anyway."

"I see. Thank you for the explanation." Shirou thanked her. He would take her words with a grain of salt of course, as they could very well be wrong in some way, but they were good to use as a baseline going forward.

For a few seconds after that, it remained quiet. By now, Shirou knew enough about Lady Barthomeloi's mannerisms to know that that meant she was about to change the subject.

"Grover Meluastea's remains have gone missing." Indeed, when she spoke again, it was about something completely different. "He was executed immediately after his trial, as per your request, but soon afterwards, his body and his head disappeared."

"His remains have gone missing?!" Shirou spluttered, gaping when Lady Barthomeloi nodded in confirmation. "How?!"

"We do not know." She admitted sourly, having the grace to look contrite. "None of the Bounded Fields were disturbed, and the guards did not see anything and were not assailed or otherwise compromised."

"So it was a really skilled thief." Shirou concluded, before realising there was another explanation. "If he didn't walk away himself."

"Lady Montmorency verified personally that he was dead." Lady Barthomeloi protested, though she didn't sound at all certain of her case. "His head had been cut off."

"He may have been dead at that point, but that is no guarantee that he is gone forever." Shirou shook his head. "There was no way something that malicious would die just because he was killed."

"Malicious?" Lady Barthomeloi slightly narrowed her eyes at him when he used that word. "Is this related to your request to have Grover Meluastea executed as soon as possible while you remained silent for the other members of his family?"

Shirou thought for a moment, hesitating on what to tell her, but then he just decided to inform her of everything he saw in Grover Meluastea. The hate, the contempt, the maliciousness, and above all, the sheer evil that was absolutely and utterly inhuman.

By the end of it, Lady Barthomeloi's jaws were clenched, though whether it was because of anger, fear, nervousness, or another emotion entirely, Shirou could not say.

"We will continue to look into the matter." She promised him.

"I will as well." He nodded, already making plans in his mind to scour the Clocktower for any trace of that evil creature. "If either of us finds him, we must make sure to burn his remains to ash."

"We will." She agreed, before leaning back into her chair, dispelling her part of the Bounded Fields around them. "There is nothing else I wish to discuss with you tonight, Fujimaru. I thank you for your time."

"There is no need to thank me. You are the Queen after all." Shirou smiled in good humour, also dispelling his part of the defences. "Your wish is my command."

"Oh? That did not seem to deter you from making me wait tonight."

"There are limits of course." Shirou's smile became wider at her somewhat pouty remark. "Cooking comes first. You should know your place."

"You are an impudent one."

"I try. I wouldn't be much of a Sorcerer otherwise, now would I?"

"I suppose not." Lady Barthomeloi sighed, before both she and Shirou fell silent when Lia came up to them, holding the check for the lady's dinner.

The blonde waitress put up a strong front, with her head held high and her back straight, but neither Shirou nor Lady Barthomeloi missed the shaking of her knees or the drops of sweat going down her temples.

"You can leave the bill there." Lady Barthomeloi said, motioning for Lia to place the check on the table, which she promptly did, before leaving without another word.

Shirou reached out to pick up the bill at the exact same time that Lady Barthomeloi did. Their hands collided, and they ultimately only managed to push the piece of paper off the table entirely.

"Ah." Lady Barthomeloi made a surprised sound, before she began to get up from her chair.

"No, allow me." Shirou quickly shook his head, already out of his seat, kneeling on the floor to grab the bill, which had fluttered under the table. He might not pay much heed to proper protocol around the Queen, but even he drew the line at having her crawl on the ground in front of him.

In fact, he'd rather not have any woman crawl on the ground at all if he could help it. Picking something up for a lady was nothing but good manners after all.

Unfortunately, in his need to be polite and well-mannered, Shirou had forgotten that the brunette was wearing a skirt again, and that she tended to sit either with her legs crossed or with her legs slightly spread.

Currently, it was the latter position, and Shirou was painfully reminded of that when he looked up from where he'd picked up the bill and was greeted with another perfect view up Lady Barthomeloi's skirt.

"Ghk!"

Once more, the sight struck him completely silent.

He could only stare, just like before, at the forbidden sight that no man other than him had ever had the privilege to see. His eyes followed the length of her pale thighs, which looked just as delicious as they had the last time, to the intersection of her legs, unreasonably curious as to whether she was wearing the black panties again.

Vaguely, he knew that he should probably, no, definitelystop looking, and that he was being a terrible pervert again. Most of his brain however was entirely occupied by the fact that she was wearing a different kind of underwear today. Instead of the lacy black panties from last time, this looked like light-blue lingerie, again very sheer and only just able to hide the treasure below.

He couldn't see her butt this time, as she was seated, which made Shirou feel unreasonably disappointed, but that was more than compensated by the fact that her panties turned out to be side-tie panties, fastened with nothing but mere bows on either side, looking like they could be undone with nothing but the merest tug on the loose strings.

Just as he thought that, his hands twitched, as if they would like nothing more than to give that merest tug.

All that and more shot through Shirou's head in a fraction of a second, the sight burned into his memory.

Then, from one second to the next, self-preservation took over, and he rose, so quickly he almost jumped into the air.

"Fujimaru?"

His ears were burning, his breathing was slightly heavy, and he was seconds away from having a very awkward reaction down below. In the end, it was only by biting his own tongue so viciously he drew blood that he was able to calm down.

"Fujimaru, are you well?"

"Please allow me to pay your bill." Shirou said the first thing that came to mind once he'd regained some control over his vocal cords.

"Pardon me?"

"Your check. Please allow me to pay."

"There is no need." Lady Barthomeloi shook her head after a moment of surprise. "This was my own supper, and I do not believe-"

"Lady Barthomeloi." Shirou interrupted her strongly, before taking a deep breath. "I insist."

"…" She seemed taken aback by his vehemence, the gears in her head busily turning for a moment, before she decided that this wasn't a matter worth arguing over. "Very well then. Thank you, Fujimaru."

"No, Lady Barthomeloi." Shirou shook his head, before giving her a shaky smile. "Thank you."

With that last remark, Shirou threw a wad of cash onto the table, before he stumbled away, eager to create some distance between him and the brunette, in case she figured out what had happened.

If he had a penny for every time that he'd been given a look up the Vice Director's skirt, he'd have two pennies now. Which wasn't much, but still two more than he'd ever expected or hoped to have in his life.

Why did that keep happening? What were the odds of such a ridiculous thing happening not just once, but twice, and in such short succession at that?

He would almost say that she'd showed him on purpose, if he hadn't known her to be incapable of being so roundabout and subtle. If she'd wanted him to look under her skirt, she would have just lifted it for him.

Was this his luck again? That seemed far more likely, and once more, Shirou wasn't sure to curse it or to thank it with all his heart for the situations it kept putting him in.

In the end though, he had already thanked Lady Barthomeloi for the view, which meant he'd just curse his luck instead.

"I know what you're thinking, mistress, but this was not my fault, I swear."

"Shut up, Ratbag." Altrouge Brunestud, Ninth of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, sneered at her most brainless servant, her teenage features, normally so adorable yet refined, distorted in something utterly grotesque. "I already know that. If I'd had even one inkling of a suspicion that it was in fact your fault, I'd have hung you from the ceiling already. Rather tell me what happened instead of making excuses."

Ratbag shivered at the threat. Being hung from the ceiling might not sound so bad for a Dead Apostle, but Altrouge had a flock of pet-crows with her that had been trained specifically to viciously peck out the organs of anyone put in that position, something that made the experience a thousand times worse.

It had been the death of many Executors and Enforcers, and numerous Apostles had been permanently traumatised by the punishment.

Ratbag had experienced it six times already, and he was in no rush to raise that number to seven, so he swallowed all his prepared excuses and instead gave a proper progress report.

It wasn't easy, being the personal assistant of Altrouge Brunestud, and especially not now that she was so agitated. For weeks now, her mood had been dark, and every day, it grew darker still. Something that was quite noticeable in the way she treated her servants, mainly Ratbag.

So far, she had limited herself to verbal abuse, but there was no telling when that might escalate to violence and torture once her irritation had reached critical levels.

Being cooped up inside the long-forgotten palace of some Nubian king who had ruled three thousand years ago, accompanied only by Ratbag, several mute guards, and a misbehaving dog, would be enough to get under anyone's skin, let alone someone as short-tempered as Altrouge.

She was reaching her boiling point, which was evident from her flushed face, her cramped hands, and the folds and tears in her once-pristine white dress. Where before she'd looked as regal as a seventeen-year-old girl could possibly look, now she looked about to bite someone's head off.

Ratbag's head, to be more precise, so the Apostle started talking quickly.

"We managed to kill all the Executors that made their way inside your base, your highness." He began with the best news he had. "Six were killed by the guards, one was killed by Primate Murder when she ran into his cage, and two were killed by you, oh Bloody One."

The corpses of those Executors were still lying next to her throne, their throats slashed and their bodies drained of every last drop of blood.

"You are sure those were all of them?"

"Very sure, mistress." Ratbag nodded eagerly.

"Very well. Continue then. How did they manage to find us?"

"This palace is saturated with Ancient Magics, it is bordered on all sides with endless desert, and it is not on any map in existence." Ratbag muttered, before raising his voice. "It has to be a traitor. We were betrayed. Someone revealed your location to the Burial Agency. There is no other possibility."

"Tsk." Altrouge clacked her tongue in annoyance. "Who?"

"That is unknown. Personally, I suspect it might have been king Trhvmn. He likes his little games, and revealing your location does sound like something he would do to pester you."

"No, Trhvmn is too busy with his grand project. He wouldn't waste time and effort on bullying tactics, not now, not when I have just agreed to join him." Altrouge said, sounding absolutely certain of herself. "Marol should have informed him by now about the arrangements of our deal."

"Marol." Ratbag spat out the name, anger rising inside of him at the mention of that guy. A young upstart who'd only gotten his position as Ancestor by sucking up to the King of the Dead Apostle Ancestors. A worthless bug through and through.

"Yes, Marol." For the first time since the conversation had begun, Altrouge smiled, though it was by no means a nice smile. "You should take an example from him. He was exceedingly polite, unlike you, not to mention powerful, unlike you."

"…" Ratbag gritted his teeth, unable to deny it. Marol might be a useless suck-up, but he was strong alright. His abilities were utterly terrifying.

"He's a whole lot better than you. You just scurry around my feet all the time, being annoying and useless." Altrouge crossed her legs, leaning with her cheek against her fist. "Are you not ashamed of yourself?"

"Yes, mistress." Ratbag nodded, falling to his knees and pressing his face into the ground. "Very ashamed."

"Good." She grinned, before her expression straightened out again. "Find the one who revealed my location to the Church and bring them to me, Ratbag. I want to give them a special punishment."

"Of course, your highness." Ratbag remained in his kow-towing position for a moment longer, before he rose and left the throne room, recognising the dismissal for what it was, holding his head high as he walked outside.

Once he was out of his mistress' sight though, he slumped against the nearest wall, muttering curses under his breath.

Ratbag was an Apostle of almost eight hundred years of age. He wasn't as ancient as the old guard, like Merem, Gransurg, or Trhvmn, but he was a lot older than most Ancestors, including Altrouge.

Despite his age however, he was sorely lacking in power, to the point where even Apostles that were five centuries his junior could easily best him. No one knew why that was, why he was so weak, but it had made him into an outcast, banished by the other Apostles who feared contracting his 'weakness-virus'.

Of all the Ancestors, Altrouge Brunestud was the only one who ever even acknowledged his existence. Ratbag didn't understand why, but for some reason, she always seemed to look after him in her own, rather cruel way.

It really made no sense. Altrouge Brunestud had managed to steal Arcueid Brunestud's hair and used it to claim a part of the power of Type Earth. She had tamed Primate Murder. She was an existence that was acknowledge by Trhvmn Ortenrosse himself.

Yet she still allowed Ratbag to stay at her side.

Whatever the cause though, Ratbag was grateful, and he always tried to be as useful as he could be to her. Admittedly, he didn't always succeed at that, but in general, he thought of himself as a pretty decent personal assistant.

At least as long as Altrouge didn't give him impossible tasks, which she tended to do rather frequently, unfortunately.

Today was no exception.

"Find the traitor, she says! Well, how!?" He hissed to himself, still leaning against the wall behind him. "Our faction is massive, and there is no shortage of Apostles in it who know our location or could find out rather easily. Our forces are spread out over Europe, and for security purposes, most of them are keeping their actions a secret. And I'm supposed to find the traitor, who may or may not exist, among them while I am stuck here? That is impossible!"

"No." He replied to himself, perking up as he realised something. "It isn't. I have friends, don't I? Friends who can help me."

"They aren't friends." He then frowned, his enthusiasm dimming again. "They just owe me favours."

"That's good enough." He waved away the issue he had raised. "They will still help me. If we use the corpses of the Executors, they can trace them back to their leaders. They specialise in that kind of stuff."

"Perhaps." He allowed. "But let's not get too enthusiastic. The woman who got caught by Primate Murder did not leave a corpse behind, I cannot get at the corpses in her highness' room, and the Executors who were slain by the guards were removed after their deaths."

"Find them again." He urged. "I need them."

Following his own advice, Ratbag broke out into a sprint, hurrying towards the place where most of the Executors had been killed. The guards had likely eaten most of the corpses by now, but he didn't need a lot. A single bone or piece of flesh would be sufficient for him to use as a lead.

He would track down the leaders of these Executors, and through them, he would find the traitor.

Ratbag wasn't a fool though. He had not told Altrouge, but he knew perfectly well that something wasn't adding up here.

If this traitor had indeed told the Church that Altrouge was at the Nubian palace, they wouldn't have sent a mere nine Executors. They would have brought an army, filled with their strongest soldiers carrying their mightiest artefacts. They would possibly even have asked help from the Clocktower, or rather, Lorelei Barthomeloi.

That was the only logical course of action when they had a real shot at killing one of the two mightiest Dead Apostle Ancestors in existence. A victory like that would have been worth almost any cost.

That the attacking force had been such a small group did not add up at all.

It was another mystery to solve on top of the rest, but Ratbag wasn't discouraged. If anything, he was elated. Solving puzzles and challenges was what he enjoyed most in life, and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, he was really quite good at it.

He hadn't survived for over eight centuries because he was bad at what he did.

There was no doubt in either Ratbag's mind that he would find the traitor, though if his suspicions were correct, that would only be the beginning.

Game on.