Past Arc ⑦

"Why perform such sluggish actions?"

Sariel appeared abruptly before him, ignoring the man who suddenly appeared and immediately began criticizing, continuing forward without pause.

"Hey! Wait!"

A voice called from behind, accompanied by footsteps following closely. Sariel ignored it.

Gyurie, the man shouting, was well known.

Though appearing in humanoid form, his true form was dragon. Sariel had also detected his surveillance via千里眼.

Yet, so long as the surveillance did not interfere with mission parameters, Sariel would not initiate elimination.

Of course, if harm were to be inflicted, the situation would differ. For now, however, the only consequence was verbal complaints—no tangible damage.

No, there was harm.

"Keep quiet in the hospital."

Sariel stopped, turned, and issued a warning to the shouting Gyurie.

Keep quiet in the hospital.

Basic rule.

The harm was already done, openly and without restraint.

"Does that matter at all!"

Yet the opponent seemed to lack basic comprehension.

The volume increased by another degree.

Gyurie, mistaking Sariel's direct confrontation as an invitation to speak, grew even louder—claiming he had finally decided to listen.

This patient could be healed if one truly wished to heal them, he said. And yet, was this not a god?

The shouting was so loud that doctors, nurses, and even other patients in the ward turned to look—first at Gyurie, then at Sariel, who remained silent.

The two stood in a small hospital in a developing nation.

Sariel, more precisely, a hospital funded by members of the Sariela Foundation, which financially supports Sariel’s activities.

Because the hospital was small, Gyurie’s voice echoed through every corridor.

Unbearable disturbance.

"Once more, I warn you. This is a hospital. Silence is standard procedure in hospitals."

Sariel cuts through Gyurie's endless complaints.

Yet Gyurie's expression, already unpleasant, visibly darkens further at Sariel's tone.

"Furthermore, this is an internal and surgical hospital. Neurological conditions fall outside our specialty. I recommend seeking treatment elsewhere."

Sariel delivers the remark with a straight face—dry, precise, unyielding.

The remark draws a stifled laugh from Sariel’s companion.

Gyurie’s ire shifts, redirected from Sariel to the man beside him.

"Lowlife creature."

"Ah, my apologies. Yet tell me—onlookers might reasonably ask which of us truly appears low in station?"

The male companion dismisses Gyurie’s furious glare with effortless ease.

The man named Fodouei maintained a calm smile, yet his eyes regarded Gyurie with unmistakable disdain.

Though advanced in age by human standards, his spine remained straight and upright.

His demeanor, following behind Sariel, resembled that of a seasoned butler, yet his true identity was the head of a major financial conglomerate.

He was the foremost financier supporting Sariel, the primary benefactor providing funds.

"Insolent! Do you wish to die!? "

"Oh? Is verbal victory beyond you, so you resort to violence? A fool who calls another 'base' cannot triumph in words, yet believes himself superior? Ah. That is why you are foolish. My apologies. I am simply unable to adjust my standards. I cannot comprehend the thoughts of those whose intellect falls below my own. I regret the inconvenience. Forgive me."

Though Gyulie was older in actual age, a demon elder seasoned by navigating the intricacies of great zaibatsu could not be outmatched by words alone.

Once Fodouei opened his mouth, insults poured forth without pause.

He could maintain this uninterrupted for an entire day, but such effort would serve no purpose.

"Your words I shall hear outside. This is a hospital. As Lady Syriel said, unsanctioned individuals should not cause disturbances. Or perhaps you are not even capable of following such basic rules? A low-grade mind indeed."

"Gh—!"

Gyulie groaned at Fodouei's words.

Only now did he seem to realize he was being stared at with disdain by those around him.

True enough.

If one shouted about gods and the like, it was inevitable that Syriel would deem him insane.

Even if dragons—supernatural entities—exist, to humans living on this world, gods and their miraculous powers remain within the realm of fables.

To shout about such things with a serious expression is inevitable. A grown adult doing so cannot expect anything but being pointed at and dismissed as "Ugh, what a weirdo."

Of course, the more pressing issue is that one should not make a scene in a hospital.

Gurie walked outside, escorted by Fodui.

He looked back repeatedly, lingering glances toward Sariel, but Sariel did not react. He moved forward, focused on his original objective.

"Stalker, here, confirmed."

"Huh?"

On the crowded road just outside the hospital, Fodui spoke.

"I said please keep the stalking to a reasonable level. Didn’t you hear? It seems your so-called superior species are simply those with poor hearing. From my perspective, that’s quite absurd, but I’ll accept it—after all, the world is vast. There must be some culture I’m unaware of that takes pride in poor hearing. I cannot comprehend it, but I’ll allow it."

The moment the words left Fodui’s mouth, he received an utterly foolish retort.

This was still a restrained response from him. The quality was poor.

"Stop speaking so crudely. My hearing is not impaired. I am no stalker."

"Oh my? Not even aware of it—truly a fool."

"What was that?"

Gyrie glared at Fodui with narrowed eyes.

His mood was at maximum hostility.

Yet to act rashly here would make him, as Fodui said, a fool who could not prevail by words and resorted to violence.

He restrained himself through reason—after all, as a being of supreme existence, the Dragon Race, such conduct was untenable.

Moreover, should he act now, Syriel would certainly arrive.

And then, for certain, Gyrie’s fate would end here.

“Hmph.”

Yet, as if to shake the limits of Gyrie’s reason, Fodui deliberately exhaled a mocking sigh.

“If you claim supremacy, then perhaps you should understand the common sense of inferior beings? Dragon Lord.”

Gyrie’s mouth opened in anger—but before he could speak, Fodui’s words preempted him.

And those words left Gyrie stunned.

He had believed Fodui did not know he was a Dragon.

He thought Fodui was ignorant, a fool who could afford such behavior only because he didn’t know Gyrie was a Dragon.

But that was not the case.

Fodui knew Gyrie was a Dragon. And yet he had mocked him all along.

The difference was slight, yet profound.

“Are you mocking me, knowing full well I am a Dragon?”

“Indeed. If there is reason to mock, I will mock regardless of who stands before me.”

Gyrie, for the first time, ceased to regard the old man before him as a lesser being.

It was incomprehensible.

“Regardless, you are not fit for conversation in your current state. Return now. Learn something of human society. Then you may begin to understand why I called you a stalker, why I mocked you. If you still do not understand, there is no hope for you. Do not appear before Lady Salier again.”

Without regard for the other’s words, Fodui turned and returned to the hospital.

Gyurie had no choice but to quietly retreat, as instructed.