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  ~~~~~

  The m air in Pi carried the crisp st of freshly baked bread and the faint buzz of ented maery as Erwin, still in Erwin's form, navigated the bustling streets.

  He moved with purpose, sing the shopfronts for the equipment he needed for his first real iigation.

  His first stop was a magic artifact shop, the kind that specialized in ented tools rather than grand spell tomes. The bell chimed softly as he stepped inside.

  Behind the ter, an elderly deered at him through thick, round spectacles.

  "Ah, a man of taste, I see. Looking for something specific?"

  Erwin nodded. "Magical camera, audio rec crystal, and anything useful for discreet surveilnce."

  The dwarf grinned. "Ahh, I see. Private iigator type, huh?"

  Erwin didn't answer. He just slid a pouch of silver across the ter.

  The dwarf let out a low whistle. "No questions asked, then. Got it."

  A few mier, Erwin walked out with:

  – A magical camera – Silent capture, instant image preservation, ented fht vision.– A rec crystal – Captures sound and speech, small enough to be hidden in a pocket or sleeve.– A cealment charm – Slightly dampens his presence, enhang the effects of the Background Character card.

  As he moved to his destination, Erwin observed the subtle details of the city—the things most people ignored or accepted as normal.

  He passed by multiple storefronts with signs that read:

  "No Demons Allowed.""Humans Only Se."

  Erwin paused, his gaze lingering.

  Ihe shop, elves akin moved freely, but there were ions for them. No "Elves Only" or "Dwarves Only" signs.

  It was just demons.

  He had seen it before, of course. But today, he actually thought about it.

  They aren't just outcasts.They're the bottom of society.

  Evekin, often seen as lesser by the highborns, weren't forced into segregation.

  It was clear.

  Humahe dominant race.

  He didn't need a history book to see that.

  He wondered…

  If they knew what I truly was—a demon's e—would they still trust me?

  He shoved the thought aside.

  For now, he had an iigation to handle.

  …

  Back at Café Lebnc, Zero sat upstairs in the living quarters, absently staring at his hand.

  He had tried again—but he still couldn't create another e.

  There was a barrier.

  Something stopping him.

  He let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the couch.

  There has to be more to demonkind—especially Archdemons like me.

  Before he could spiral deeper into thought, the door creaked open, and Soma walked in carrying two ptes of steaming pasta.

  "Alright, lunch break. Eat up."

  Zero perked up, grabbing his fork. "Damn, I was about to starve."

  Soma snorted as he sat across from him. "If you're starving, it's your own fault. You've been brooding all m."

  They ate in fortable silence for a few minutes before Zero suddenly said,

  "Hey, should we hire someoo help you?"

  Soma hummed, chewing thoughtfully. "Nht now."

  Zero raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought we were getting busier."

  Soma set down his fork, leaning ba his chair. "We are, but I want to see our stable guest t first."

  Zero nodded slowly. "I get it. We're still in the hype phase. People are ing because they heard about us. But after a week or so, the real er base will settle."

  Soma poi him. "Exactly. I want to know our actual ine before bringing ira hands."

  Zero leaned forward, resting his arms oable. "Yeah… and we also don't have a stable money i."

  Soma nodded. "Yup. You should start thinking about ways to make money, because right now, we don't have a lot of options."

  Zero sighed dramatically. "Let's leave that problem to my future self."

  Soma chuckled. "Cssic Zero."

  Zero twirled his fork. "I've been thinking about what Erwin discovered."

  Soma raised an eyebrow. "About demon history being erased?"

  Zero nodded. "Yeah. It makes me think bay time in the void with Cecil. When he spun my racial ability, it nded on ing, right?"

  Soma nodded slowly. "Yeah. And?"

  Zero pced his fork down, his eyes sharp with realization.

  "It never called it a 'power.'"

  Soma tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

  Zero tapped his fingers oable.

  "It called it a talent."

  A beat of silence.

  Soma leaned forward.

  "Wait… so you're saying…"

  Zero nodded. "It's not some divine power. It's just a natural talent I happeo have."

  Soma exhaled. "Damn. So, theoretically, ing isn't even your true power—it's just a talent you happeo roll."

  Zero grinned. "Bingo."

  Soma scratched his . "That means you should be able to do more—you just haven't figured out how."

  Zero leaned back. "That's what I'm thinking. It's not about unlog a new ability—it's about training what I already have."

  Soma shook his head, grinning. "Man, if we had books about our race, this would be so much easier. But since all that histot erased, we're basically running blind."

  Zered. "Then I'll have to experiment."

  Soma smirked. "Alright. Just don't push it too hard. If you pass out again, I'm not carrying you to bed."

  He grabbed the empty ptes and cups, heading toward the sink.

  As he passed by, he casually said, "Oh, by the way—should I tell you when the Gacha Points reach 1,000?"

  Zero shuddered, remembering the Background Character roll.

  "No. Let them accumute. I don't want another useless card."

  Soma ughed. "Alright, suit yourself."

  Zero chuckled, then cracked his knuckles.

  Time to train.

  …

  Soma hummed softly to himself, jotting down new recipes on a notepad as he leaned against the café ter.

  The promise he had made to the guests still held—every day, a new meal.

  Breakfast had ed up smoothly, and now, during the café's midday break, he was already preparing for the evening service.

  His hands moved instinctively, slig, seasoning, and simmering—his mind slipping into a familiar rhythm.

  But then, his gaze flickered toward the ste room door.

  A thought struck him.

  He had worked iaurants before—well, his main body had in his past life.

  Yet no matter how much he cooked, the ingredients never ran out.

  He hadn't really thought about it before—but the sheer variety was unreal.

  Everything was alerfectly fresh, no matter how long it sat there. Every rare spice, premium eat, and delicate herb he could ever want was always within reach.

  Unlimited.

  He exhaled a soft chuckle.

  If I had this ba my old life, I wouldn't have spent years starving.

  The thought was bitter, yet strangely distant.

  His childhood in foster care fshed through his mind—the stant shuffliween homes, the cold, empty nights, the foster parents who never really wanted him.

  He had been prayed food home. A family. But instead, he had jumped from one brokeo another, some ht abusive, others just using him for money.

  His fiightened slightly around his pen.

  It almost felt silly now—knowing his bad luck wasn't some cruel divine joke, but an actual curse abs misfortu for others.

  He let out a slow breath, shaking off the thoughts.

  No point thinking about old wounds. I'm in a new life now.

  Just as he was about to return to his notes—

  A sharp knock echoed from the café entrance.

  Soma frowned, gng at the clock.

  Lunch break. Café is closed until evening service.

  Wiping his hands on a towel, he moved toward the door.

  Through the gss, he saw three well-dressed men standing outside.

  Their suits were tailored, expensive, but their posture was too casual, too fident.

  Not ers. Something else.

  Soma pulled the door open, his usual friendly smile.

  "Good afternoolemen. Sorry, but we're closed for lunch. We reopen in the evening."

  The man in the ter—a lean figure with slicked-back hair—tipped his hat slightly, a polite smile.

  "Good afternoon to you, too, sir." His tone was smooth, but his eyes were calg.

  Soma nodded politely and moved to close the door.

  A hand caught it.

  The lead man's fingers pressed against the frame, stopping it from shutting.

  His smile didn't fade, but his coat shifted slightly—just enough to reveal a polished revolver holstered at his hip.

  A silent message.

  Soma's eyebrows arched slightly.

  Well, that escated fast.

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  "How about we have a little chat instead?"

  Soma's lips curled into a casual grin.

  "How about a coffee?" He gestured toward the tables. "It's on the house."

  The men exged ghen stepped inside.

  Soma shut the door behind them, log it with an audible click.

  Time to see what they really want.

  …

  The midday sun bore down on the busy mert streets of Pi. The air was thick with the st of spices, fresh produce, and the occasional whiff of horse manure.

  Among the bustling crowd, one figure blended seamlessly into the background.

  Erwin—disguised in his Background Character form—stood by a fruit stall, casually iing apples. His gaze, however, was locked onto one man.

  Mandy's husband.

  A simple mert, dressed in the usual attire of his trade.

  From m until now, he had been doing nothing out of the ordinary. Selling goods, bartering, greeting fellow merts—it was all routine.

  Erwin's fiapped against the wooden stall.

  So far, nothing unusual. But patience is key.

  He khat criminals didn't always operate in broad daylight.

  If Mandy's husband was involved in something, there would be signs.

  And then—as if answering his silent request for excitement—a otioed.

  Across the street, a rough-looking man in a fine coat grabbed Mandy's husband by the colr, shoving him against his own stall.

  "You think you keep dodging payments, huh?" the man snarled.

  The husband paled, raising his hands defensively.

  "Please, I just need more time—"

  More time?

  Erwin's eyes narrowed.

  He wasn't just being harassed—he was being threatened over a debt.

  Good. This is my opening.

  Erwin switched tactistantly.

  He released the Background Character disguise and shifted into his Edogawa form.

  A small child, wide-eyed and curious, stepped forward.

  He ran up to the struggling mert, his voice filled with .

  "Uncle, are you okay?"

  The mert turned, startled by the sudden presence of a child.

  The rough-looking man—clearly intimidating the mert—g , but paid him no real mind.

  Perfeo oakes a child seriously.

  The mert let out a forced chuckle, trying to calm his nerves.

  "It's okay, little ohat's why you should study diligently and stay in school, so you don't have to make deals with men like him."

  He patted 's head gently, as if reassuring himself just as much as the boy.

  Then, with a faint sigh, he grabbed an apple from his stall and ha to .

  "Here, take this."

  smiled brightly, nodding in gratitude.

  As the mert turned back to up the mess, he suddenly paused.

  Somethi... off.

  He rubbed his temple, trying to recall something.

  But—

  Wait…Who was that kid again?

  Try as he might, he couldn't seem to remember his face.

  All he could recall was the moment he was shoved to the ground.

  The details blurred in his head, and Erwin was already gone.

  "Tch. That throw must've taken the wind outta me." he muttered, shaking his head.

  Ba Background Character form, Erwin trailed behind the thug.

  The man hadn't even noticed.

  This skill is seriously broken.

  The thug walked with two others, both well-dressed but rough around the edges—men who clearly weren't merts but operated in the marketpce like they ow.

  And, as Erwin observed carefully, he realized they kind of did.

  They moved from stall to stall, demanding "security payments" from merts.

  A prote racket.

  But something odd caught Erwin's attention.

  Some merts paid immediately, heads lowered, fear evident in their posture.

  Others, however, had a short versation with the thug's leader.

  Instead of handing over mohese merts received a pat on the shoulder and were left untouched.

  No payments. No threats.

  Erwin's eyes sharpened.

  Iing…

  Pulling out his notebook, he quickly jotted down the names of the shops where the men didn't collect money.

  This wasn't just a random prote racket.

  This was something bigger.