■ Oz Independence Association □
After bringing Count Bisbaden to the Governor’s Office and interrogating him for about two days, we discovered that he was one of the secret sponsors of the Oz independence group.
You could say it was pure luck, like accidentally catching a mouse while the cow takes a step back.
Currently, in Oz, numerous independence groups are operating underground.
The center of the independence movement was mainly composed of Oz’s former ruling class. It seems that because the commoners find life better now under colonial rule, there wasn’t much public support for reclaiming national sovereignty.
Anyway, based on the information we extracted from Count Bisbaden, we raided one secret independence group and were able to punish the nobles connected to them one by one, like tying up sweets.
Honestly, I didn’t expect this whole ordeal to grow so big just from an initial suspicion, but maybe good things do come out of it?
Thanks to this, I also received a hefty bonus.
“Master! I’m here!”
On Saturday evening,
I stopped by the Magic Tower after buying two fried chickens on my way home from the Governor’s Office.
Only Master and her secretary, Olivia, at the Magic Tower know that I am still alive and that I am the same person as Partarth, the second-in-command of the Ozma Governor’s Office.
In other words, most people think I’m dead.
When I arrived at the top floor of the Magic Tower riding a levitation stone, Olivia, who was busy with her work, recognized my face transformed by polymorph.
“Hello, Caldlasth.”
“Why haven’t you gone home yet? It’s been a long time past working hours.”
“Hehe… It’s self-development. I’m preparing for an upcoming thesis presentation, so I’m sparing even my sleeping time to work on it.”
I took a quick peek at the thesis she was writing.
“It’s related to artificial elements called Ether. If you run into something you don’t know while working on it, feel free to ask me. I know quite a bit about Ether.”
“Really?! Then I appreciate your help!”
“Oh, this is a gift. Have it while you eat.”
Saying that, I handed her one of the fried chickens I was carrying.
‘As always, chicken is the best midnight snack.’
Before entering Master’s room, I asked cautiously.
“Master, are you not out somewhere?”
“Yes! She’s inside!”
Then I can relax.
I opened the door and said,
“I’m here, Master.”
She was lounging in her chair, reading a magic tome, and lazily waved her hand as she responded,
“Oh, you’re here.”
Her lack of enthusiasm slightly annoyed me, but I forced a smile and said,
“I brought fried chicken. Let’s eat together.”
Her response was astonishing.
“Nope. Eating at night will make me fat.”
Huh? What? Fried chicken was food tied to memories between Master and me.
Since it was her first time taking on a disciple, Master was clumsy in teaching through actions rather than words, and she once beat me, who was only fifteen years old, like a dog on a hot summer day.
But when I couldn’t take it anymore and ran away, she forcibly dragged me back and made me eat this fried chicken as an apology.
