"…Is someone talking about me?"

Feeling a strange tickle in his ear, Jhin scratched it absentmindedly while glancing at his smartphone. He'd just finished reviewing all the documents that had been sent to him.

He turned toward Dean, who was still waiting for a reply.

"I'll pass the list of supplies for the festival to Pete and make sure they're delivered properly. If anything else is needed, submit another request."

"…Understood. And please make it clear that the borrowed amount will absolutely be repaid on time."

"Yes. You'll have to. Especially considering who you're borrowing from."

Jhin forwarded the supply list he had received from Dean to Pete without delay. With the railway line now fully repaired and the route to Ark reopened, there was nothing else blocking the plan.

Festival preparations were moving smoothly.

Once that task was complete, Jhin noticed Dean still sitting in place, staring at him.

He frowned and asked,

"…Is there something else you'd like to say?"

"No, it's just… I guess I'm feeling a bit sentimental."

"About what?"

"At first, I thought it was insane. Holding a festival at a time like this… Even coming from someone like you, Mr. Kyle, it sounded ridiculous."

Jhin waited silently. Dean clearly wasn't finished.

"But now I think I understand why you brought it up. Looking at it again… It's risky, but it's a solid plan. It's very… 'you.'"

Then, in a voice filled with certainty, he said:

"This festival is bait, isn't it?"

"…What?"

"To draw out the Company members hiding in Ark. You're deliberately provoking them into coming out, right? It's a smart move. It's a lot easier to deal with an enemy you've lured into your own turf than constantly worrying about when and where they'll strike."

He stared at Jhin like a student waiting to be graded.

In response, Jhin gave a wry smile and nodded slightly.

Bait, huh…

He wasn't wrong.

If a terrorist attack were to happen in District 2—practically the heart of Ark—it would become irrefutable proof of Ark's incompetence.

If the Company's goal was to undermine Ark's public trust, they wouldn't be able to resist this bait.

Dean continued with admiration.

"Even if it's dangerous, it's better to take the initiative. This is just what I'd expect from Mr. Kyle. Don't worry! There may be some backlash from the players, but once they understand your intent, I'm sure they'll accept it."

Jhin didn't bother to correct him.

Nothing Dean said was wrong. It was, indeed, part of the plan.

But if someone were to ask whether that was the main goal of the festival…

Jhin could confidently say it wasn't.

They'll know once it starts. What the real purpose is.

This isn't something you understand with your head.

But before any plan could proceed, there was something even more crucial—

The festival had to feel like a real festival.

If it came off as half-baked, not only would it fail to serve as proper bait, but no one would want to participate either.

This had to be an event for everyone.

And if anyone understood exactly what was needed, it was Jhin.

There's no way I'm leaving her out of this.

He headed up to the room in New Capital Hospital where Millie was still recovering. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant. Inside, Bellatris was checking on her.

"How's Millie doing?"

"…She's alive, thanks to the Revival Potion. But as you can see, there's still a problem."

She lay quietly in her bed. From the outside, she looked fine—her color had returned, her wounds had all healed. She no longer looked like someone who had nearly died.

She had passed the brink.

All that was left was rest and a few HP potions, and she should have been able to get back on her feet.

That's how it should have been.

"Her HP is dropping like she's been poisoned."

Her health was trickling away steadily, like water from a cracked jar.

They were using an IV drip of HP potions to keep up with the rate of loss, but it wasn't a real solution.

Why?

Jhin already knew.

[Skill 'Insight (A)' activated.]

He could see it—her blood, blazing red like fire, boiling from within.

Just as he'd thought.

There was a single skill she hadn't deactivated.

Because she was unconscious.

Or rather, it was likely keeping her from waking up.

"Burn Blood…"

The signature skill of the "Revolver of the Cursed Shot,"

A powerful ability that burns the user's HP to boost physical stats.

It was her trademark—her bread and butter. But now, it was poison, squeezing the life from her.

She had likely pushed it too far.

He had expected this.

The Revolver of the Cursed Shot is a cursed item, after all.

Like his own "Goblin King's Crown," which could kill him if he tried to bind spirits above his capacity,

Her revolver could devour its user entirely if overused.

This was the price of wielding such a weapon.

And she had resistance to HP potions on top of that.

The longer it dragged on, the more dangerous it became.

"You know how to treat this, right? She had the same issue back in Exodia 1."

"I did some digging…"

Bellatris showed him a file she had prepared—an analysis of what Clarke had done in the past to counteract the revolver's drawbacks.

"It says here she used a 'Troll's Heart,' right?"

"Yeah. Clarke changed her character's species to a troll to counter the curse."

Trolls were famous among monsters for their extreme regenerative ability.

Lose an arm, it grows back.

Lose a leg, it grows back.

You had to pierce the heart to kill one.

"…So that's why she could keep using Burn Blood without collapsing."

"Right. As long as your natural regeneration outpaces the damage you take, the curse becomes meaningless."

And trolls didn't need HP potions.

In fact, the more they bled, the more powerful their regenerative skills became.

"In other words, we need to get a troll. So I need you to—wait."

BZZZZZ.

Bellatris's phone buzzed sharply in her pocket.

With a mildly irritated tone, she answered.

"What is it? Why do you keep calling?"

—"Is Mr. Kyle with you right now?"

"Yeah, he's here."

—"Could you… put him on?"

"No. Just tell me what you want."