Became the Villainess’s Guardian

A fact often overlooked, but the atmosphere of a conversation is crucial.

Morpheus was able to have a serious dialogue only because he presented the red and blue pills with such gravitas. Had he instead whispered from the next bathroom stall, “Wiping with the red toilet paper will free you from the Matrix,” even Neo would have boldly rejected such a preposterous reality.

Diligently striving each day to become an exemplary villain, Freugne had grasped this truth early on.

Thus, in a dim, dingy basement.
A room with only a single light overhead.

In that interrogation room-like chamber, Hugo sat bound hand and foot in the center.

“Speak. What is your objective?”

“Hah, hah. I don’t know, dammit! How would I know unless I get orders from above……”

In truth, the term “interrogation” was not entirely inaccurate.
Having established an atmosphere instilling the notion of facing unknown consequences for remaining silent, they were essentially playing twenty questions.

Initially, Hugo had attempted to create an opening for escape through magic, but upon the slightest reddening of his eyes, a blow to the back of his head quickly taught him the simple equation: magic = bad.

Whack!

“Aack! Why that time?!”

“The light merely reflected in your eyes. A misunderstanding.”

Perhaps it would be better not to expect survival as a member of the Demonic Tribe.
Had he not entered Londinium with the intention of sowing chaos in the first place? With such an objective, what mercy could he anticipate?

“What nefarious schemes against humanity do you have in mind?”

“I have nothing to say to you lot, and even if I wanted to, I know nothing! In fact, I’m the one with questions.”

“How did you infiltrate Londinium? Do you have human collaborators?”

“If I knew that, I would have contacted them to escape instead of rotting away in that foul-smelling East End, wouldn’t I?”

“Quite the stubborn one. Do the Demonic Tribe train you well in keeping your mouths shut?”

While Hugo was an intellectual and member of the upper crust in the Demonic Tribe’s lands, here in Londinium, he was closer to the bottom rung.
Those infiltrated among humans were talents exceptional enough to avoid arousing discomfort, so the Demonic Tribe agents dispatched to human nations were all well-vetted.

Thus, Hugo himself did not know how many other spies were present, nor whether they had received similar orders.
Foot soldiers did not devise plans, only carried them out, so there was no need for them to know. Carelessly revealing information could lead them to make independent judgments and botch the mission.

Hence, for most questions, the only answer Hugo could provide was, “I don’t know.”

Did the Demonic Tribe truly withhold information to such an extent, even among their own ranks? Or had he perhaps forgotten due to a mere 8-megabyte brain capacity?
Even after summoning an organization member with truth-discerning abilities to further interrogate him, Freugne could not dispel her doubts, as the results differed little.

Of course, their efforts were not entirely fruitless.

“If you were to rule over humans, what would your next plans be?”

“I’ve never given it any thought.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Really? Then go fetch a box of sardine toast from the kitchen and shove it up my nose. Let me have a taste.”

“Seriously? You middle-class folk actually consumed such things? I thought it was just an urban legend the elders made up to scare us.”

“…Quiet, and someone gag him and pinch his nose shut.”

“Gurghhhh! Gaaaahhhh!!”

While uncertain whether it was a human ability or magic, a human lie detector of sorts had been brought in, leaving Hugo, unable to use magic himself, with no recourse.

After being forced to inhale sardine toast through his nose, followed by a pea soup (saltiness not as specified in the recipe), Hugo gasped raggedly before answering:

“Huff, huff. The only conjecture I can offer is this.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Go on.”

“Well, it’s just staging a rebellion in the capital. The timeframe and scale, I have no idea about. This is something I remain ignorant of, whether you believe me or roast me alive.”

He knew the Demonic Tribe had malicious intentions towards Londinium at a governmental level.
He lacked any decision-making authority, and that pockets of rebellion were scattered throughout the capital in a cell-based structure.

Freugne gestured for the next question.
With a slight nod, Ulr forced Hugo’s drooping head upright as his strength waned.

“Then the next question.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know anything about the man in the white suit?”

“No idea.”

“Do you actually know anything at all?”

“Just that he’s a senior operative who arrived in Londinium before me, occupying a slightly higher position than mine. At some point, he even vanished completely.”

“Is this the truth?”

“It is the truth. That is the extent of what I know.”

The lie detector delivered its somber verdict. Freugne heaved a deep sigh.
Each step forward seemed to distance her that much further from the answer, a frustrating predicament. Still, having confirmed his Demonic Tribe identity was at least a small consolation.

Ordinarily, Freugne was not the sort to abduct and interrogate people on a whim.
Her compelling Ulr in the future to strike Edan from behind and abduct him… that had yet to occur, so she dismissed it as a knockout. After all, that future had slightly shifted as well.

Despite controlling and swaying three or four-tenths of Parliament,
despite possessing the ability to make entire families vanish overnight with but a flick of her fingers,

Freugne’s overall approach remained relatively moderate.
This was, of course, provided it did not involve Edan – a caveat that had to be added.

Especially since this very issue concerned not only her own life but Edan’s as well. Considering the previous attempted murder, employing self-defense to this degree would be more than justified.
Or rather, the very fact that she had refrained from using the lex talionis tactic against a non-human was itself evidence of her forbearance. His jaw might have been dislocated, but his life had been spared, had it not?

Just as Freugne had been about to order the Demonic Tribe member imprisoned, unable to release him, a sudden thought gave her pause.

‘Could I glimpse the Demonic Tribe member’s future as well?’

Thus far, her experiments had shown that viewing a human’s future was possible, but inanimate objects, plants, and animals were inconceivable.
However, might the Demonic Tribe, while not human, possess sufficient sentience to make a difference?

“…Hm?”

“Hello there.”

Emerging from the shadows beyond the darkened window where she had been observing, Freugne manifested in the room now occupied solely by Ulr and Hugo.

Then, without a word, she placed her finger upon the back of Hugo’s hand as he blinked bewilderedly.

At this stage, Freugne, capable of glimpsing the future thrice a day or four times if pushing herself, judiciously expended her allotments.

One to foresee the next day and prepare for any potential incidents.
One to facilitate smooth operation of her organization and provide information to her subordinates within the next month.
And the final one to randomly view a distant future within the next year.

The reason for the one-year limit was that beyond that timeframe, the chances of failure increased significantly.

She could discern the number of raisins in tomorrow’s bread pudding for lunch, and with focus, perhaps even next week’s lunch menu.
But for periods spanning months, while the date might be known, pinpointing the precise time became difficult. Exceeding a year often resulted in complete failure to perceive the future at all.

After all, ample opportunity existed for the future to shift within that yearlong span through her own actions.
Had the trajectory slightly deviated when Edan was shot at the magic exhibition, she could have been the one struck instead.

In essence, glimpsing the distant future held a high probability of yielding useless information, might not even come to pass, and had low success rates overall.
Even when successful, it imposed a psychological toll. If any advantage could be found, it was that revisiting a once-viewed future became somewhat easier.

Hence, unless it involved Edan aiming a gun as he had done, Freugne rarely peered into the distant future.
The contents up until he ultimately lowered the weapon had become familiar from repeated viewings, reducing the frequency of late.

However, since this was an experimental purpose, Freugne stole a glimpse of Hugo’s distant future.
Well, it was obvious he would simply end up imprisoned underground, but since it was an experiment, she did not dwell on it deeply.

And as her head began spinning,

‘…Huh?’

The image of a Londinium engulfed in raging flames flickered before Freugne’s eyes.

Putting aside Hugo’s free roaming of Londinium, the entire visible city was ablaze.

Being the distant future, the memory was fleeting.
Snapping back to reality, Freugne muttered:

“…What was that.”

“……?”

“What in the world?”

In that underground chamber filled only with the muffled grunts of the gagged Hugo, Freugne stood frozen in place for a prolonged period, as if turned to stone.

It had been an unremarkable day like any other.

“I might be home a bit late today.”

“Why? Your friends again?”

“Yes, I’m meeting up with Ulr and the others. A new friend will be joining us too!”

“Just don’t stay out too late. I’ll worry.”

“Heheh, okay.”

After dressing as usual and finishing the meal Freugne had prepared, when Edan opened the door to leave for the martop, a disheveled man was waiting nearby.
No sooner had Edan stepped out than the man accosted him, saying:

“You’re the one… who gave me food.”

“I’m not sure if I’ve met you before?”

“You may not remember, but I was indebted to you several times at the soup kitchen you ran, sir.”

“Ah……”

The man glanced around before leaning forward and whispering softly:

“Four days from now, no matter what happens outside, do not leave your home.”

“Pardon?”

“Just… just remember that.”

And without further ado, he turned and walked away.

This was no mere “Are you aware of the path to enlightenment?” sort of encounter. Just what was that about? After scratching his head for a while, Edan went on his way.
The man’s trembling hands and stuttering speech suggested an unstable mental state. Perhaps he was grappling with some psychological difficulties.

However, Edan did not dwell on the memory of that man for long.
With the automobile development at the martop, weekend meetings to design rail guns, and a mountain of other tasks, he had little time to spare.

The time remaining until the Demonic Tribe’s invasion was now less than four years.