Chapter 39: The Otaku Watches a Clean Town (And Realizes Someone Else Is Watching Too)
Southval stayed clean.
That was the problem.
Clean towns made people believe in safety the way children believed in bedtime stories—because the alternative was exhausting.
Meliodas stood on the same watchtower as yesterday, hands resting on the railing, looking out over the eastern fields. The sun was high enough to make the farmland look harmless: tidy irrigation channels, neat rows of crops, scarecrows that had given up on being scary and settled into being depressing.
Behind him, the town moved like a practiced machine.
Patrol rotation.
Gate inspections.
Merchants lining up permits like paper could stop a drake.
Everything normal.
Everything controlled.
Everything pretending the forest wasn't an intelligent presence with opinions.
Kaelen stood a step back from the edge, hood down today, jaw tight. He'd slept, technically, but his eyes still carried yesterday's pressure—like his body remembered what it felt like to be measured by something that could kill him without emotion.
The mage lingered near the stairs, keeping his distance from everyone and still somehow managing to look like he was listening to everything.
Rem leaned on Meliodas's shoulder again, head resting there like it was a chosen throne.
She wasn't purring.
She wasn't joking.
It was… steady.
Serious.
As if she'd decided that if something old and heavy was watching the town from the forest, then she'd respond by claiming the strongest-looking human in the area and calling it strategy.
Meliodas didn't move her.
He wasn't sure if moving her would cause another accidental engagement incident.
Also, annoyingly, she was warm.
And {Well-Adjusted} didn't stop him from experiencing the emotional exhaustion of being used as furniture.
Bud stayed palm-sized on Meliodas's shoulder, glow faint, claws lightly hooked into his coat. Tired, but alert—eyes tracking the horizon like a small dragon who would rather die than admit he was tired.
Meliodas kept {Observation Haki} stretched thin over the fields and roads.
Not deep.
Not aggressive.
Just… enough.
He was watching for drakes.
He wasn't expecting—
A prickling shift at the edge of range.
Not pressure like yesterday.
Not wild presence.
This was… directional.
Human.
Multiple.
Organized.
And moving like they didn't fear being noticed.
Meliodas's gaze drifted west—toward the main road that fed Southval's gate.
Dust rose in a long, controlled line.
Riders.
A small convoy.
Not merchants.
Too tight.
Too disciplined.
Not bandits either.
Bandits didn't move like they had a schedule.
Kaelen noticed the change in Meliodas's posture immediately.
"What is it?"
Meliodas didn't answer right away. He watched the dust line. Measured pace. Coordinated spacing. No wagons.
He felt Rem's ears flick.
Her tail went still.
She stopped lounging and started listening.
The mage's shoulders tightened like he'd been struck by an invisible hook.
Meliodas spoke calmly, voice low enough that it didn't carry.
"Someone important is arriving."
Kaelen's throat moved. "Important… like the guild?"
"No," Meliodas said. "Important like trouble."
Rem's eyes narrowed. "That's your specialty."
Meliodas didn't look at her.
He kept watching the road.
The convoy reached the outer fields.
Southval's guards reacted instantly—signals flashed, two runners moved, gate personnel shifted.
Not panic.
Protocol.
The captain on duty came up the watchtower stairs a minute later, face controlled.
"C-rank," he greeted Meliodas, because titles were safer than names.
Meliodas nodded once.
The captain glanced out. "Royal courier marks. Not ours. Not the baron's."
Kaelen went very still.
Rem's posture sharpened like a blade being unsheathed.
The mage took one unconscious step backward.
Meliodas's tone stayed mild. "How many?"
"Eight riders," the captain said. "And one carriage following at distance. Sealed."
Kaelen's breath hitched.
Meliodas didn't look at Kaelen.
He didn't need to.
His {Hyperawareness} caught it anyway—the micro-tremor in Kaelen's hands, the tightness in his jaw, the way his whole body did that thing prey did when it smelled a familiar predator.
Rem tilted her head slightly. "You know them."
Kaelen didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The captain's gaze flicked to Kaelen and lingered a beat too long.
Then he looked away again like he'd decided not to ask questions that could get him murdered politically.
"They requested entry," the captain said. "They claim to be hunting a 'dangerous fugitive.'"
Kaelen flinched like the words had been thrown at him.
Meliodas exhaled slowly.
Of course.
Clean towns didn't stop politics. They just made it look civilized.
"What did you tell them?" Meliodas asked.
The captain's expression stayed flat. "That Southval cooperates with lawful requests. That we require documentation. That we will not allow armed arrests in the streets without proof."
Which meant: We will stall as long as possible without dying.
Smart.
The captain looked at Meliodas and then, carefully, asked: "Is he here?"
Meliodas didn't answer.
Because answering was a trap.
So he gave the captain something else.
"A drake is measuring your eastern edge," Meliodas said evenly. "If you spend your forces on an internal hunt, your wall coverage drops."
The captain held his gaze. He understood exactly what that meant.
"This is above my pay," the captain said quietly.
"Yes," Meliodas replied.
The captain nodded once, then turned and went back down the stairs with the same controlled urgency he'd brought up.
Kaelen finally spoke, voice thin. "They're here for me."
Rem's ears flattened slightly. "That was fast."
"It's been days," Kaelen whispered. "They have horses. I have… feet."
Meliodas's mind ran through options.
Fight the convoy? In a town? With witnesses? With a drake nearby?
No.
Hide Kaelen? Sure. But Southval wasn't a maze. And disciplined searchers didn't need magic to be dangerous.
Leave immediately? That meant running right as the hunters arrived, which was basically screaming YES, HE'S HERE with your entire body.
Meliodas didn't like any of it.
Rem leaned her head back onto his shoulder again—lighter this time, but still serious.
"You're thinking too loud," she murmured.
Meliodas didn't smile. "That's because the situation is rude."
The mage spoke from behind them, voice quiet and strained.
"Royal searchers don't come personally unless—"
He stopped.
Because he'd almost said too much.
Kaelen looked over his shoulder sharply. "Unless what?"
The mage's mouth tightened.
Meliodas turned slightly, eyes calm. "Finish the sentence."
The mage's gaze flicked away. Back. Away.
Then he chose a safer truth.
"Unless the court believes the fugitive has… value beyond punishment."
Kaelen's face went pale.
Rem's tail flicked once, irritated.
Meliodas nodded slowly.
Value beyond punishment meant leverage.
It meant bloodlines.
It meant secrets.
It meant someone had decided Kaelen wasn't just a missing prince.
He was a resource.
Meliodas didn't say that out loud.
Kaelen already looked like he was holding himself together with stubbornness and leftover adrenaline.
Meliodas gestured toward the stairs. "We're going down."
Kaelen hesitated. "Master—"
"We're not panicking," Meliodas said calmly.
Rem grinned faintly. "He says, while absolutely panicking internally."
Meliodas ignored her.
Bud sent a pulse through the bond that felt like: Focused.
Good.
They descended the watchtower and moved through the town streets with measured pace. Not hurried. Not slow enough to be noticed. Just travelers going about their day.
Southval's main street was busy—too busy. People had heard "royal convoy" and decided the best way to be safe was to be visible, because visible meant "harder to quietly kill."
It also meant: witnesses.
Meliodas hated witnesses.
They reached the guild hall first.
Not because Meliodas loved bureaucracy.
Because bureaucracy was camouflage.
A man with paperwork looked like a man with a future.
Inside, the hall smelled like ink, sweat, old wood, and ambition.
The receptionist—same one who'd given him the F-rank plate—looked up, blinked, and then looked down again like she'd decided the safest way to survive Meliodas's life was to pretend she didn't recognize him.
Smart.
Meliodas approached the counter.
"I want to check my board access," he said simply. "And confirm my registration details."
The receptionist nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. Right away."
Kaelen stood a half-step behind him, hood up again, eyes down.
Rem leaned against the counter like she belonged there and smiled at the receptionist.
The receptionist did not smile back.
She looked like she'd been near Rem once and still remembered it as trauma.
The mage stood farther back, scanning the room like he expected a hidden knife in every conversation.
While the receptionist shuffled papers, Meliodas let {Hyperawareness} spread.
He caught whispers.
"Royal riders at the gate…"
"Someone said they're hunting a prince…"
"No, they're hunting a murderer…"
"No, I heard demon cult—"
Rumors multiplied like rats.
Clean towns lied, but rumors told the truth badly.
A commotion at the guild hall entrance drew a brief glance from everyone.
Not shouting.
Not violence.
Just the subtle, collective shift of attention when someone important walked in.
Meliodas didn't turn quickly.
He turned slowly.
Like a normal man.
Like someone who didn't care.
The guild doors had opened.
A man stepped inside.
Not armored.
Not a knight.
A long coat, travel-worn but clean. Gloves. Boots that didn't show mud.
He looked ordinary in the way a blade looked ordinary when it was sheathed.
His hair was dark, his face composed, his eyes… calm.
Too calm.
He wasn't the leader of the riders.
He was the reason the riders were here.
Meliodas felt Kaelen's breath catch.
Rem's posture tightened.
The mage stiffened so hard it was almost painful to watch.
The newcomer's gaze swept the hall once—quick, efficient—then landed near the counter.
Not on Meliodas first.
Not on Rem.
Not on Bud.
On Kaelen's hood.
Like he knew exactly what shape Kaelen tried to become when he wanted to disappear.
Kaelen's fingers twitched.
Meliodas didn't move.
He let {Observation Haki} brush the man's presence.
It felt… smooth.
Not weak.
Not strong in the obvious way.
Just… controlled.
Like his emotions were behind glass.
The man approached the counter with polite steps.
The receptionist straightened immediately, nervous.
He smiled at her—pleasant.
"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm looking for information regarding a fugitive of the crown."
The receptionist swallowed. "S-sir, the guild does not—"
"I'm not asking the guild to arrest anyone," the man said gently. "Only to confirm whether a certain traveler registered within the last day."
The receptionist looked like she wanted to die.
Meliodas's expression stayed neutral.
Rem's tail flicked, irritated.
Kaelen went still as stone.
The man's gaze drifted—finally—toward Meliodas's face.
And the smile on his mouth stayed the same…
…but his eyes sharpened, just slightly, the way a lock sharpened when it recognized the right key.
"Ah," the man murmured, almost kindly. "There you are."
Kaelen's shoulders tightened.
Rem's ears flattened.
Bud's glow brightened half a shade—angry.
Meliodas didn't speak first.
He waited.
The man gave a small bow—polite, practiced, calculated.
"My name is Valmor," he said. "I serve as an advisor to the crown."
Kaelen flinched at the word advisor.
The mage's face went pale.
Rem's gaze narrowed like she wanted to bite Valmor's throat just to see if he deserved it.
Meliodas kept his tone mild. "Cool. I'm registered here. Try the front desk."
Valmor smiled gently. "I'm not here for you."
His eyes flicked—briefly—toward Kaelen's hood.
"I'm here for the boy."
Kaelen's breath hitched hard enough to be audible.
The room's noise didn't stop, but it softened—people felt tension like dogs smelled storms.
Meliodas's hand drifted—casually—near his pouch.
Not for the system.
Not for anything flashy.
Just readiness.
Valmor's gaze flicked to Bud.
And for the first time, something in his composure shifted.
Not fear.
Interest.
Like he'd noticed a rare ingredient.
Bud's eyes narrowed.
Meliodas's own eyes cooled slightly.
Valmor's smile returned, smoother than before.
"You've made quite an impression in Southval," Valmor said, voice gentle. "A drake fight. An infernal incident. A… social rumor involving a cat."
Rem bared teeth in a grin. "That one's true."
Valmor ignored her like she was a detail.
His gaze stayed on Meliodas.
"You travel with unusual companions," he said. "And you keep unusual company."
Meliodas replied evenly, "I keep company that doesn't try to kidnap teenagers."
The receptionist made a choking sound.
Kaelen's hands shook under his sleeves.
Valmor's smile didn't falter.
"I don't wish to harm him," Valmor said gently. "I only wish to return him to where he belongs."
Kaelen's voice came out thin, but it came out.
"I don't belong there."
Valmor's eyes softened in a way that looked practiced.
"You're young," he said. "You're frightened. You don't understand the consequences of running."
Rem's tail snapped once. "He understands enough."
Valmor's gaze shifted to Rem for the first time.
His smile tightened a fraction.
"Ah," he murmured. "And you're here as well."
Rem's ears angled back, annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Valmor's gaze was calm. "It means your father's concerns were justified."
Rem went very still.
Kaelen's head snapped toward her, eyes wide.
The mage looked like he'd just watched three disasters stack into one larger disaster.
Meliodas exhaled slowly.
So the hunters weren't just chasing one runaway.
Southval really was collecting fugitives like it was a hobby.
Valmor looked back to Meliodas, voice gentle again.
"Hand him over," he said. "And there will be no trouble."
Meliodas didn't smile.
He didn't posture.
He simply asked, calm and flat:
"And if I say no?"
Valmor's pleasant expression didn't change.
But something in the air tightened anyway.
Not draconic pressure.
Not infernal wrongness.
Human intent—disciplined and cold.
"Then," Valmor said softly, "I will be forced to resolve this."
Meliodas nodded once, as if that was reasonable.
Then he leaned slightly toward Kaelen without moving his lips much.
"Don't Blink," he murmured. "Not yet."
Kaelen's breath shuddered.
Rem leaned closer to Meliodas's shoulder again, voice quiet.
"He's dangerous," she said.
Meliodas's eyes stayed on Valmor.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I noticed."
Valmor watched them like a patient man watching children argue in a marketplace.
"Last chance," he said gently.
Meliodas didn't answer.
Because he didn't want to fight in the guild hall.
He didn't want civilians.
He didn't want witnesses.
He didn't want escalation.
But he also wasn't going to hand Kaelen over to a man whose eyes looked at Bud like an ingredient.
So Meliodas did the only thing that fit all constraints.
He made it boring.
He shifted his weight, turned slightly toward the receptionist, and spoke loudly enough to sound normal.
"Sorry," he said, "we're going to step outside. There's a draft."
Then he looked at Valmor and smiled politely—an absurd, harmless expression on a face that {Adorable} made dangerously convincing.
"You can come too," Meliodas said. "If you want."
Valmor blinked once.
Not confused.
Amused.
"A private conversation," Valmor said.
Meliodas nodded. "Exactly."
Rem's tail swayed.
Kaelen swallowed.
The mage looked like he wanted to pass out.
Valmor smiled again.
"Very well," he said softly. "Lead the way."
Meliodas turned and started walking.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Normal.
Kaelen followed.
Rem followed.
Bud stayed on Meliodas's shoulder, glow faint but sharpened.
The mage trailed behind, face tight with dread.
As they moved, Meliodas felt it—faint, barely-there.
A ripple of attention from the system.
Not a full notification.
Not yet.
Just the sensation of potential aligning.
A situation becoming "meaningful."
Meliodas didn't look up.
He didn't react.
He just kept walking toward the guild doors, toward the street, toward open air where civilians could scatter instead of cluster.
Because if Valmor wanted to "resolve this"—
Meliodas was going to make sure it happened somewhere the town didn't have to pay for.
And somewhere the forest wouldn't take it as an invitation.
They stepped into daylight.
Southval's clean street continued to pretend it was safe.
But now Meliodas could feel the eyes gathering.
Not just townsfolk.
Not just guards.
The eight riders had moved closer, forming a loose perimeter without drawing weapons.
Professional.
Prepared.
And on the far end of the street, Valmor's sealed carriage waited like a polite coffin.
Valmor stepped out beside Meliodas and looked at him with that same pleasant smile.
"Now," he said softly. "We can speak honestly."
Meliodas didn't answer.
He just let his posture settle.
Relaxed.
Balanced.
Ready.
Rem's head brushed his shoulder again—steady support, not a joke.
Kaelen stood behind him, trembling, trying to breathe through it.
Bud's claws tightened—promise of light.
And Meliodas thought, very calmly:
Clean towns lie better.
But they don't lie forever.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 39]