The roof sloped like a breaking wave, the floorboards groaned with age, and dust fell from above like lazy snow. The guild room seemed ready to collapse with a sigh, but on this island, it was still counted among the last real shelters, one of the few left that hadn’t completely given up.1

“... Guess I should congratulate you, huh? Getting all chummy with Professor now?” Jukaken said, sneering at Arlos in the reflection.0

“Shut your mouth, you piece of shit,” Arlos replied, her face turning stone cold.1

“Blabber on, sure~ but it doesn’t change the fact that Arlos, the Puppeteer, showed her original form, and Deculein had the pleasure of seeing every inch.2

“What did he say again~? Oh, right—if the world’s most noble and exquisite art piece existed, you would remain something better than the finest damn artwork in the world,” Jukaken said, chuckling as he trimmed his beard and adjusted his coat.1

“Jukaken...0