“Huff… huff…”

Ulu carefully carried Lugi's corpse on his back, making his way through the pitch-black street. He was incredibly tense, stopping to check his surroundings every couple of steps, terrified of being seen.

Thankfully, he wasn't.

The street, called Angled Alley, was completely deserted, as quiet as the corpse Ulu was carrying.

“L-Lord Visah'Su,” Ulu panted as he cautiously asked Hiroshi, “Are you sure it’s alright to bring Lugi’s body out like this? If Kelser comes back to the church, he’ll realize I’m gone immediately.”

“Good point,” Hiroshi said coolly. “You could just head back now, leave this guy's body here. Come morning, everyone will see that Lugi didn’t have my finger and was just murdered. How does that sound?”

Ulu could tell Hiroshi was being sarcastic. His throat moved as if to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to, ultimately just sighing softly. “I understand.”

He continued forward.

Hiroshi couldn't be bothered to pay Ulu any more attention. After seeing both the game and reality, Hiroshi had come to understand Ulu more deeply. He knew the man’s most distinct trait—

Wishful thinking.

No matter how bad things got, no matter how cornered he was, if Ulu could find even a shred of hope to cling to, he would lose all his courage to fight back and instead try to survive any way he could. Just like before—even after being treated the way Kelser had treated him in the room, Ulu's rage had nearly driven him to kill everyone who had looked down on him. He'd seemed ready to become a demon, bent on destroying the world. But as soon as the moment passed, he began clinging to hope again, thinking maybe it wasn't so bad and that staying alive was more important.

To deal with someone like him, you had to push him to a place with no escape—to a true dead end.

Of course, that had to be done slowly. After all, unless someone truly wanted to die, they wouldn’t run toward a cliff.

But Ulu didn’t know Hiroshi’s intentions. He was exhausted, lacking any strength to think deeply. After all, he wasn’t a warrior—just a greasy, middle-aged priest with a preference for young boys. Killing a man, burying the body last night, then digging it up and hauling it around tonight was no small feat for him. Combined with the immense mental pressure, the only thing keeping him going was his fear of death and his desire to survive.

Naturally, all of this was within Hiroshi's calculations.

He wanted Ulu to give up thinking and follow orders completely. After all, a puppet without its own mind made the best puppet.

If he had truly cared about Ulu, he would have had him carry the body here last night instead of burying it.

“Alright, stop here,” Hiroshi suddenly spoke.

Ulu halted and instinctively looked up, finding himself standing in front of a rundown bar called “House of Pleasure.”

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The bar looked abandoned, like it hadn’t been open in a long time.

“This place…” Ulu said doubtfully, “Seems empty.”

“Obviously,” Hiroshi said, annoyed. “If there were people here, would you still go in? Or are you planning to order a drink and have a chat with the bartender?”

Realizing the stupidity of his comment, Ulu didn’t dare argue. He immediately entered the bar with Lugi's corpse.

The interior was just as rundown as the outside—a thick layer of dust covered the tables, as if no one had been here in ages. That was understandable; given the famine, most people couldn't afford food, let alone come here for a drink.

Following Hiroshi's directions, Ulu laid the body on an empty table and exhaled heavily.

“Is… is this enough?” Ulu asked.

“Of course not,” Hiroshi replied. “Cut off his finger.”

“His… finger?” Ulu hesitated. “Why?”

Hiroshi sighed. “Are you thinking at all? You really plan to leave the body intact?”

Ulu wasn’t stupid—he was just too drained to think clearly. Once Hiroshi made it obvious, he quickly understood.

“You mean, if I cut off his finger, Kelser will think the missing finger is… your finger! That way, it confirms that your finger was with him all along?”

“I'd love to say 'well done,' but it took you so long to figure it out that I just can't bring myself to say it,” Hiroshi said flatly.

Faced with Hiroshi's ridicule, Ulu wasn’t angry—he was even pleased.

Because he realized this was an excellent plan. It would clear him of suspicion, dispose of Lugi's body, and obscure the finger's whereabouts—a perfect solution!

“As expected of you, Lord Visah'Su!”

“Quit the flattery and get moving,” Hiroshi said. “You need to get back to the church before dawn.”

“Y-yes, I understand.” Ulu quickly took out a small knife and started cutting off Lugi's finger.

“Don’t get blood on me.”

“Oh, right!”

Ulu began cutting, while Hiroshi watched coldly, calculating the time.

He hadn’t chosen this spot for Lugi’s body randomly.

If Hiroshi remembered correctly, Ulu was about to encounter a troublesome person.

Sure enough, just as Ulu severed Lugi's left middle finger, footsteps echoed from outside the bar.

Ulu instinctively looked up to see a figure cloaked entirely in black standing at the bar entrance.

The two locked eyes, neither expecting anyone else to be here.

Caught off guard, Ulu instinctively began to speak, “You—”

But the stranger reacted faster.

“A Rhyo dog? You’ve already found our hideout?”

Before he could finish, his body moved.

With a swift motion, the stranger tore off his cloak, revealing his right hand—or what looked like a right hand but was actually the gaping maw of a wolf.

Ulu was shocked. “A cultist!”

Instinctively, Ulu tried to retreat, but unfortunately, the opponent was far stronger. The wolf's maw instantly tore into Ulu’s left shoulder, causing blood to pour out.

Ulu tried to snap his fingers, but the searing pain paralyzed his nerves, making even that impossible.

In that moment, he felt death looming over him.

“Help me, Lord Visah'Su!” Ulu cried desperately.

Hiroshi's lazy voice echoed in his mind, “Oh… this is quite the troublesome opponent. You can’t handle him—you’re probably going to die here.”

“No, I don’t want to die, Lord Visah'Su! Please save me!”

Perfect.

Hiroshi “smiled” and said, “Conventional methods won't work. If you want to survive, you’ll have to surrender your body to me and let me handle him.”

Surrender his body?

Ulu instinctively felt something was wrong, but there was no time to think. The attacker lunged again, the sharp fangs nearly biting off Ulu’s head. He barely dodged, but the smell of blood from those fangs terrified him.

“Anything—anything to save me!” Ulu shouted again. “Please, take over my body!”

“Very well… the contract is sealed,” Hiroshi said. “Relax your body and let me take over.”

“R-relax my body?”

“Yes. You need to relax so I can infuse my power into you. If you stay tense, you’ll only reject my strength.”

At that moment, Ulu was using all his strength just to avoid the opponent's attacks—he had no idea how to “relax.” “I-I don’t know what to do!”

“No, you do. You should be quite experienced with it,” Hiroshi said with a soft laugh.

“Ex-experienced?” Ulu was confused.

“Yes,” Hiroshi chuckled. “Relax, and let me in.”