Published: August 10, 2026
Lord Cyrus's fingers were all still intact. Not a single one had been cut off.
All five thick, long fingers were still firmly attached. Instead, something long... silver... was clutched in his hand. It was unmistakably a sword—or rather, the blade itself, what the people of Mizuho called a katana.
And in the hands of the Samurai standing opposite him, Mr. Angelo, there was only the hilt of the katana.
No, to be precise, flowers were... growing out of that hilt.
............What Mr. Angelo was holding in his hand was, quite clearly, a bouquet.
"...Huh? Eh?"
Lord Cyrus muttered again. He kept looking back and forth between what was in his own hand and what was in Mr. Angelo's, adding more and more question marks over his head.
"............Huh? ...Flowers?"
"..................Flowers?"
I, still slumped where I'd fallen, let out a voice with no strength at all.
My neck hurt, probably because I'd been frozen stiff with tension. I somehow managed to turn my creaking neck and look at Yan.
Yan's eyes were wide open.
"...Flowers...?"
He had the exact same reaction as us.
Only Hadwell, who stood beside him, had remained completely unchanged. For some reason, he wasn't surprised, but he also didn't look deflated or disappointed. He just stood there normally, as if everything had gone exactly as expected, like an audience member watching a play he knew well.
No, there was one more person who was as nonchalant as ever. Mr. Angelo, still holding the bouquet, lifted the flowers high and spun around. Then he smiled brightly and said:
"Magic, sir! Were you surprised, sir?"
"............Y-you... y-you..."
Lord Cyrus trembled all over and opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. He casually tossed away the blade in his right hand—or rather, whatever sheath-like thing had been fashioned to resemble a blade—and dropped to one knee, hanging his head in despair.
No one moved for a while. The first to act was Yan.
"You—what the hell do you think you're doing, you killer‼"
With the widest strides his small body could manage, he stormed up to Mr. Angelo. He grabbed him roughly by the collar, but because of the height difference, it almost looked like Yan was hanging off Mr. Angelo instead.
"What is this? You call this a magic trick? It would've been bad enough if you just lost, but now you're making a mockery of it!"
"No, i was quite serious. This sheath has had its edge blunted, yes, but it is still a solid lump of metal, and could crush bones easily enough. As for Lord Cyrus, his was a genuine live blade, so this was a battle where both sides were, in their own way, risking their lives."
"W-what do you mean, 'in their own way'? I told you to cut off two or three limbs if you had to, just leave the life intact and tear him to pieces if you want!"
"If you tear someone to pieces, they usually die automatically, sir. And if you take even one limb, never mind two or three, they'll bleed out. Humans can't be half-killed that conveniently, sir."
"Y-you idiot! I told you to leave it to you, didn't I?"
"You said to leave it to me, but you never said i could do it, sir?"
"What the hellllll?!"
A-Angelo-san... as always...!
At their exchange, I almost laughed out loud. No, this was absolutely not the time to laugh.
Yan's fury finally reached its peak, and he raised a fist to strike Mr. Angelo. The one who stopped him by grabbing his wrist was Hadwell, who had been watching silently the whole time.
"Hey, you big brute, let go—gaaahhh‼"
Yan's insult turned into a scream halfway through. Hadwell's expression never changed, but the muscles in his upper arm clearly bulged.
"Ghh, y-you bastard, do you not care what happens to your family...?"
"...If I knew where they were, that would've been enough. The lock too... Angelo said he'd cut down the cage and all..."
When Hadwell spoke, Mr. Angelo waved the bouquet again and nodded as if to say, "Leave it to me, sir."
"W-what in the world is going on...?"
I still couldn't follow the situation and was completely bewildered. Lord Cyrus had gone completely limp and become a silent ornament—what on earth were we supposed to do from here?