Chapter 20 | Reincarnated as the Hero’s Childhood Friend, Then Saving the World

The official meeting of the Special Action Group was scheduled for two o'clock in the afternoon.

By the time Margarita arrived, five people were already seated around the long table. Constance sat at the head of the table, with Irene and Patrick to her left and Joshua to her right. Next to Joshua was a girl she didn’t recognize. She had deep purple hair tied in a high ponytail and wore her Magic Department uniform with meticulous precision. In her arms, she held an Illustrated Guide to Elemental Magic that was thick enough to kill a man. She sat perfectly straight, and though her gaze held no expression as it swept over Margarita, the younger girl could feel the scrutiny behind it.

“Everyone is here,” Constance began. “First, let me introduce our new member: Erica Wayne, a third-year in the Magic Department specializing in elemental magic. She just passed the Special Action Group’s practical assessment last week.” She turned her head slightly toward Erica. “And this is Margarita Percy from the Magic Department, our Special Tactical Consultant.”

Erica gave a curt nod, her gaze lingering on Margarita’s face for a moment before she looked away and opened the illustrated guide in front of her, maintaining a strictly business-like demeanor.

Margarita took a seat at the far end of the long table, while Lovell pulled up a chair and sat against the wall behind her. Joshua glanced at her once before looking back down to continue flipping through his mission notes.

Constance looked at the three of them but said nothing.

“Today, we are discussing the follow-up disposal of the dry well outside the East Gate.” Constance spread a map across the table, which already had the dry well’s location and the surrounding terrain marked. “Irene, you take the lead.”

Irene stood up and pointed to an area on the north side of the dry well on the map. “After the well was cleared, I conducted a mana residue test. There are continuous spatial fluctuations at the bottom of the well. The exact source is unclear, but it’s highly likely to be a temporary tunnel used by demons for infiltration. The width isn’t stable, so it only allows for low-tier monsters and below to pass through.”

“Can it be sealed?” Patrick asked.

“It can, but it will take time.” Irene produced a small vial containing a pale blue liquid. “This is a sealing potion I brewed. Pouring it into the passage can temporarily seal it, but it will only last for three months at most. To solve the problem permanently, we need to find the anchor point on the other end of the passage.”

“Where is the anchor point?”

“I don’t know.” Irene shook her head. “The spatial fluctuations are directed toward the northeast, but the exact location requires more precise detection equipment. There’s one in the academy laboratory, but a standard application takes at least two weeks to process.”

Constance tapped her fingers on the table and looked at Margarita. “Consultant, do you have any suggestions?”

Margarita set down her teacup and pointed to a cluster of hills to the northeast of the dry well on the map. “Here,” she said. “Northeast of the dry well, in the middle of those hills, there’s an abandoned quarry. I remember it being marked as having a weak mana abnormality on the academy’s topographical map, but because there were no records of monster activity, it was never taken seriously.”

Erica’s hand stopped flipping through the illustrated guide, and she looked up.

“How do you know there’s a mana abnormality there?” Erica asked, her tone laced with skepticism. “There are several abnormality markers on the topographical map; the quarry is just one of them. Statistically speaking, the old mine shafts to the south are a more likely candidate.”

“The quarry is closer to the dry well—it's less than half a li away in a straight line. The old mine shafts are in the south of the city, more than two li from the dry well,” Margarita said. “An anchor point for a spatial tunnel won't be too far from its entrance; otherwise, the stability of the tunnel drops significantly. That is a basic rule of spatial magic.”

Erica’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve studied the basic theory of spatial magic?”

Are you questioning Clara’s collection or my ability to slack off?

“I’ve read a bit.”

Erica was silent for a moment, her lips pursing. “Consultant, if I may be blunt—you have no mana and no combat experience. Judging spatial magic requires precise mana perception as a foundation. Relying solely on markers on a topographical map to make deductions could lead to a massive margin of error.”

The meeting room went silent for a few seconds. Patrick looked down and pretended to flip through his report, while the pen in Joshua’s hand stopped moving. Behind Margarita, Lovell straightened up slightly.

Margarita looked at Erica, her smile remaining unchanged. “You’re right. I have no mana perception, so my suggestions are for reference only. The actual detection will still depend on you and Irene’s judgment. I am simply providing a priority.”

Erica opened her mouth as if to say more, but Constance interrupted her.

“Search the quarry first,” Constance said, her tone brook no argument. “Erica, you and Irene will go to seal the passage tomorrow morning. In two weeks, take the detection equipment and measure it. If nothing is found, then we’ll move on to the old mine shafts.”

Erica swallowed her words and nodded, but her gaze still flickered toward Margarita. Margarita held her teacup with a calm expression, as if the challenge from a moment ago had been nothing more than an insignificant interlude in the meeting.

The meeting spent the next half hour discussing other matters, including the patrol schedule for the following week and a request for assistance from the Adventurer’s Association. Margarita listened quietly throughout, occasionally making a few notes in her book but never taking the initiative to speak.

After the meeting adjourned, Constance was the first to leave, as she had a Swordsmanship Department class that afternoon. Irene and Patrick followed her out. Joshua waited for Margarita at the door for a moment, but Lovell pushed him away, saying, “You’re going to be late for training.”

Only Margarita and Erica were left in the meeting room.

Erica’s movements as she packed away her guide were slow. She closed the book, held it to her chest, and stopped at the door. Margarita was looking down, organizing her notebook, and when she felt someone approaching, she looked up.

It was Erica. She stood to the side, her fingers constantly fiddling with the hem of her clothes, as if she were weighing her words.

“...Consultant,” Erica spoke, her voice much lower than before. Her gaze fell on the table in front of Margarita, not meeting her eyes. “What I said during the meeting earlier... was a bit inappropriate.”

“Your judgment regarding spatial magic theory was correct; the quarry is indeed a higher priority.” Erica’s speech quickened, as if she were afraid she would change her mind. “The reason I questioned you was because... I’m not used to people without mana participating in tactical discussions. It was my own prejudice. I’m sorry.”

She finished her piece and even gave Margarita a small bow.

Margarita was stunned for a moment, but then she looked at her and smiled.

“It’s alright,” she said. “You have mana, and your perception of space is more accurate than mine. That’s a fact. All I have is theory, and theory needs to be verified. We just need to supplement each other’s shortcomings.”

Erica looked up at her, a flash of surprise in her deep purple eyes. Then she straightened her back and nodded.

“I will let you know the results of the detection in two weeks as soon as possible.”

“Alright.”

Erica turned and left, her deep purple silhouette soon vanishing down the corridor. Margarita tucked her notebook into her coat and stood up to stretch her neck. She walked over to the giant topographical map on the wall, pulled the pins out one by one, and rolled up the map to place it in the corner, revealing the entire blank corkboard behind it.

This meeting room had originally been a storage room, and the spot where the map was pinned was actually a large corkboard. Constance had someone keep it, saying it might be useful later. Margarita moved a chair from the table to the corkboard, sat down, and pulled a folder from her coat, pouring its contents onto the table.

There were several summaries of old newspapers she had copied from the library, several noble family histories borrowed from the intelligence archives, and a sheet of draft paper covered in names and locations. She had skipped Clara’s class yesterday and asked Constance for access to the intelligence archives, where she had spent the entire day.

She stood up, found a box of thumbtacks and a spool of red thread in a drawer, and began pinning things to the corkboard.

In the game, she had always thought Lovell had been driven into a corner by nobles because she had stolen their property. But after leaving the intelligence archives yesterday, she had changed her mind.

Grey Reed.

Lovell’s master and an old thief from Arlan City. Margarita’s impression of him in the game was vivid; even though he was just a randomly spawned traveling merchant, he was heavily tied to Lovell’s quest line. You had to select the dialogue options in a specific order, or you’d lose affinity with Lovell for not respecting her master. She remembered one of the dialogue lines: “I stole plenty of things from nobles when I was young, but I’ve washed my hands of it now.”

Lovell had said by the stream that her master was the famous “Night Rat” of Arlan City who specialized in stealing from nobles, and that he had picked her up and raised her from a young age.

Something felt off to her.

A character who only appeared as a random merchant in the game was actually a thief who had been active for at least twenty years in reality. And calculating backward from Lovell’s age, Grey’s history of stealing from nobles must have started at least a dozen years ago. Continuous noble thefts for over a decade couldn't have gone unrecorded.

The noble history she had borrowed from the archives was an attachment to an “Analysis of Northern Nobility and Trade Routes” compiled by the academy last year. It listed the names, family crests, and primary industries of over twenty nobles. Margarita circled the names of nobles Grey might have stolen from and used the red thread to link them to their respective families.

Then she discovered a problem.

Three of the nobles she circled belonged to three different families, and their industries and territories were far apart. However, all three of their family crests had been modified ten years ago. The modification was minor—just replacing the decorative floral wreath at the edge of the original crest with an olive branch—but all three families had modified their crests in the same month.

Such a coincidence wasn't mentioned in the game, nor was it in the official setting books. But Margarita remembered that on the title page of the magic book in the Percy Village basement, there was a tiny line of text that said something like, “Dedicated to all those who guard order in the shadows,” followed by a signature with a symbol she hadn't paid attention to at the time. Thinking back now, the silhouette of that symbol was at least seventy percent similar to the decorative floral wreath of those three families before they modified their crests.

She pinned the three noble histories side-by-side on the corkboard, connected their crests with red thread, and then pinned a note in the center that read: “Olive branch = Cult marker?”

She stepped back a few paces and looked at the lines on the board.

Grey’s thefts from these three nobles were concentrated between fifteen and ten years ago. After the crests were modified ten years ago, Grey never touched those three families again. Was it because he retired, or because he discovered something?

She took out another piece of paper and wrote, “Grey Reed’s last recorded activity: Arlan City, ten years ago,” then pinned it to the far right of the board.

Lovell said her master was still in Arlan City but had long since stopped stealing. He spent his days drinking in a small tavern in the south of the city, occasionally taking on a few odd jobs as a runner.

A thief who had been active for twenty years suddenly retired ten years ago and then lived quietly in the same city for a decade.

Margarita stared at the red lines on the corkboard, her finger lightly tapping her chin. Ten years ago—crest modification, cult marker. Grey stole from three nobles related to a cult, then retired to live in seclusion in Arlan City, where he picked up a red-haired girl and raised her.

Just as she was about to continue her deduction, the sound of light footsteps came from behind her.

“Sometimes I really want to see what goes on inside that head of yours.”

Margarita turned around. Constance was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Her golden ponytail hung low at her shoulder, and her emerald eyes moved from the red thread on the board to Margarita’s face, her expression carrying something slightly harder to pin down than usual.

“An investigation of this scale would take an entire team in the royal palace,” Constance said.

Margarita looked down at the corkboard filled with clues in front of her. The intersecting red lines and dense clusters of thumbtacks looked like a small spiderweb. She suddenly felt a bit embarrassed and reached out to cover the contents of the board.

“Just some casual organization.”

“You call this casual?” Constance walked in and stood before the board for a long time. her gaze moved from the three noble histories to the central note that said “Cult marker?” and then to “Grey Reed” on the far right. She didn't ask who Grey was or where the clues came from; she simply tilted her head to look at Margarita.

“You only got the intelligence archive access yesterday.”

“So?”

“So, within a single day, you found three noble families that modified their crests simultaneously ten years ago and are suspected of having links to a certain organization,” Constance said. “And you also found a chronological overlap between them and a thief from Arlan.”

“...President, are you praising me or interrogating me?”

“Both.” Constance withdrew her gaze, walked to the table, and sifted through Margarita’s box of thumbtacks. “These materials cannot be found with standard intelligence access. What did you dig through?”

“Summaries of old newspapers and the noble history attachments,” Margarita said. “There’s a row of old archive cabinets in a corner on the third floor of the intelligence archives that no one touches. They were covered in dust, but the locks were brand new. I guessed someone organizes them regularly but never lets anyone borrow them.”

The locks were brand new, but I did learn a trick or two from Lovell.

Constance’s fingers paused on the table.

“You even dug through those.”

“I don’t have much time, so I flip through things quickly.” Margarita took the thumbtacks back from her and began pinning them one by one onto the board, securing the last clue. “President, are you following my investigation because you also think there’s a problem, or because you’re worried about me?”

Constance didn't answer immediately. She stood before the board, her gaze moving along the red thread from one end to the other before stopping on the note Margarita had just pinned up.

“The Windermere family records have a note about these three families,” she said. “Ten years ago, there was a supply mobilization for the Northern Frontier Defense Line. The person handling it belonged to one of those families. After that mobilization, three outposts on the defense line were captured by demons in a single month. Forty soldiers died.”

Margarita’s hand pinning the thumbtack stopped.

“The incident was ultimately classified as demon infiltration, and the files were sealed.” Constance looked at her. “The things you’ve found—if this were the royal palace, it truly would take a whole team to uncover.”

She removed the note that said “Cult marker?” from the board, turned it over, and wrote a few words on the back with Margarita’s pen before pinning it back up.

Margarita leaned in to look. The back of the note read: “The Sacrosanct Circle. Declared an illegal organization by the royal family ten years ago; all members exiled to the Northern Frontier.”

“There were three names on the exile list. The family surnames match the ones you found exactly,” Constance said.

Damn it, you could have said so earlier.

“President?”

Constance set the pen back on the table and looked at her. Her emerald eyes seemed exceptionally clear in the afternoon light.

“Because I was waiting for you to find your way here,” she said. “If you couldn't even reach this step, you wouldn't be fit for the position of Special Consultant.”

“Heh.” Margarita gave a short laugh. Hell, another pit.

“Fine.” She rearranged the red thread on the board, securing the note in the very center. “So, what now?”

“Keep investigating.” Constance walked to the door and stopped. “You investigate your part, and I’ll investigate mine. The keys to the old archive cabinets on the third floor are in my drawer; I’ll have a spare made for you tomorrow.”

“Oh, by the way, President.”

“Yes?”

“The short guy... the one with glasses... why didn’t I see him today?”

Constance stared at Margarita’s face for a moment and sighed. “...His name is Peter. He took the day off today.”

She left after saying that, her footsteps gradually fading down the corridor.

If he took the day off, he took the day off. Why are you looking at me like that? It's awkward.

“...”

Margarita watched her leave, then turned back to the intersecting red threads and the dense cluster of thumbtacks on the board. The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window, casting her shadow onto the corkboard, right over the note that said “Sacrosanct Circle.”