…After a moment, Joe slowly lowered himself back onto the bed.

The movement alone seemed to drain him. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a quiet breath through his teeth as if even sitting upright had been too much.

His body was still too heavy for him.

I watched him for a second longer before speaking.

“By the way… you said you’re a mercenary, right? Has there been some kind of conflict within the mercenary guilds lately? A dispute? A faction war?”

Joe didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze dropped to the blanket covering his legs. His fingers—resting loosely on top of it—curled in slightly.

“…Yes,” he said at last. “I’m still new. Clumsy. I got separated from my unit during a job.”

Separated.

That was the official version.

See?

This was the problem with focusing too much on the RPG mechanics. Stats, skills, hidden quests—those were easy. They had numbers. Clear triggers.

But the story progression? The character routes? Those depended on affection levels, trust flags, unseen dialogue choices.

And Joe was not just a random NPC.

Even I—who made a contract over fried chicken—wasn’t exempt from the narrative’s rules.

—Joe, why are you lying?

…What do you mean? When have I?

—Do you know? You move your fingers whenever you lie.

It was a cutscene detail. Subtle. Easy to miss.

And right now, as he avoided my eyes and unconsciously rubbed his fingers together, he was reenacting it perfectly.

I tilted my head slightly.

“Is that so? That’s troubling.”

He stiffened.

“Especially now,” I continued calmly, “when demon incursions are increasing again… and mercenary guilds are tearing at each other from the inside.”

A bead of sweat slid down his temple.

Whether it was from the pain of his injuries—

or the fear of being caught—

only he knew.

“I do have some influence around here,” I added lightly. “If you’d like, I could look into the matter for you.”

Joe’s head snapped up.

“Oh! No—there’s no need for that!”

He nearly winced at his own volume. Then, realizing how suspicious that sounded, he forced an awkward laugh.

“It’s just… guild matters. Internal stuff. Nothing that concerns the territory.”

‘…It worked.’

I kept my expression mild.

“Why not? They’re the ones who hurt you, aren’t they? Just give me a name. A symbol. A description. I can see that justice is served.”

Though my tone was gentle, the implication was not.

The color drained from his face.

“N-No! It’s not like that. They didn’t— I mean, it wasn’t intentional. It was just… chaos. Monsters everywhere. We got separated.”

“You were found unconscious in a forest

,” I said softly. “With blade wounds. Clean ones.”

Joe froze.

I let the silence stretch.

“I may be dressed as a servant,” I continued, smoothing down my sleeve, “but you do understand where you are, don’t you? This is the Draken territory.”

His throat bobbed.

“Even among servants,” I said with a faint smile, “those belonging to the Draken ducal household hold considerable sway.”

That part wasn’t a bluff.

Information flowed through servants more efficiently than through knights.

Joe looked at me as if seeing me clearly for the first time.

“You’re not… just a servant,” he said quietly.

I didn’t answer that.

Instead, I leaned forward slightly.

“For investigative purposes,” I said, voice lowering just enough to carry weight, “at least give me a basic description. Height. Build. Weapons. Accent. Anything.”

Joe’s fingers tightened around the blanket, the thin fabric wrinkling under the pressure.

For a brief moment, something raw flickered across his face—fear, maybe, or hesitation.

Then it was gone.

His expression smoothed out, guarded once more. Careful. Measured.

I pretended not to notice.

If he didn’t want to talk, pushing him would only make things worse.

So I shrugged lightly and extended my hand instead.

“It seems we skipped something important,” I said with a faint smile. “We never properly introduced ourselves. My name is Julies Evans.”

Joe stared at my hand as if it were a test.

“…Ah. Right. I’m Joe.”

He reached out after a second’s delay and shook it.

His grip was warm. Firm enough to be normal. Not too tight. Not too loose.

Perfectly ordinary.

Too ordinary.

—Faceless Imposter, can you hear me?

The voice slipped into my mind like silk dragged across glass.

Cool. Detached. Slightly condescending.

Velra.

I almost flinched.

‘…Isn’t this what the head servant used earlier?’

Back then, I’d assumed it was some high-level magic I wouldn’t understand for a while.

Apparently, I was wrong.

—Oh? It seems you haven’t learned how to respond through telepathy yet. I didn’t realize you lacked that insight. How quaint.

Even inside my own head, she sounded smug.

Then her tone sharpened.

—That is not important. Listen carefully. Step away from him. Immediately.

My brows furrowed.

“…Excuse me?”

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Joe blinked at me.

“Hm?”

I forced a cough. “Nothing. Sorry. I just… remembered something.”

Velra’s irritation brushed against my thoughts.

—Do not ignore me. His mana is wrong.

Wrong?

I resisted the urge to glance at Joe like he was a ticking bomb.

In the original story, Joe was one of the most reliable allies the protagonist had.

Loyal. Cheerful. The emotional glue of the group.

The kind of character readers trusted instinctively.

There was no betrayal arc. No hidden agenda. No tragic twist.

He was safe.

—You are thinking too loudly.

Velra muttered dryly.

—I do not care about your fictional narratives. I care about the pressure coiling around his heart.

My grip unconsciously tightened around Joe’s hand.

Pressure?

Outwardly, Joe looked fine.

Pale, yes. A little thinner than expected. But he was recovering from injuries. That was normal.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked casually.

Joe tilted his head.

“…Why wouldn’t I be?”

His smile was gentle.

Too gentle?

—I can feel it clearly now.

Velra continued, her voice lowering.

—There is something nested inside him. Something that does not belong to a human.

A chill crept down my spine.

‘Nested?’

I forced a laugh. “You just seem a little tense. That’s all.”

Joe’s eyes met mine.

For a fraction of a second—

They weren’t warm.

They were assessing.

Measuring.

The sensation vanished so quickly I almost convinced myself I imagined it.

“I’ve been through a lot lately,” Joe said lightly. “Anyone would be tense.”

—Step away Faceless Imposter.

Her voice lost its teasing edge entirely.

—If I am correct, it has noticed me.

My pulse skipped.

Noticed?

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