Continental Hero Senki

Dec 10 at 5: 30pm.

Fina, the store designated in a letter to Mr. Fine was a mass canteen in a section inhabited by a low-income group in Esterburg. "Sit properly in an empty seat," he told me, so I picked the end of the counter seat. I'm just gonna miss my table seat, and I don't like it when I'm in my seat.

The store was filled with sweaty smells and smoky smells. It looks like Osama and the others, who are mining workers or factory workers nari, are hissing and enjoying cigarettes and liquor all over the place. And obnoxious. Gahahahahaha and wild voices, Osama talking aloud is all over there.

After a short time about the counter seat, a female guest came to the next seat. Is the outfit a match selling girl or a worn out outfit that Cinderella seems to be wearing before she meets the witch. If I didn't know anything, I'd just look like "poor girl who works hard at the factory because the house is poor". But in fact, she can't be the Count's daughter and cadet, having trouble with the money.

"Evening."

She greeted him that way with a small voice that seemed to scratch out. If you weren't seated next door, you wouldn't hear it by the hustle and bustle around you. I'll just whisper "none" back, too.

"You seem to be here with a very unusual friend, don't you?

By "unusual friend," she would mean two male guests sitting at a table behind our two. He had a perfect fit that didn't look like this massive dining room, and for some reason he was looking at me like a flicker. Yeah, you're definitely a tracker. It looks familiar. You'd be full of suspicion if you were so appropriated.

"It's a mistake to bring a peasant (me) to his position. Thanks to you, it's easy to understand."

"So is that."

She still doesn't look at this one. You can't unnaturally look to the side in a situation where there are trackers, albeit amateurs.

"That's what you say, Finna (...), you seem to have an unusual entourage"

"... what is it?"

She turned only to this side of her gaze. I feel even more irritated because of my tight eyes.

"Those two male customers in a gaggling noise in the back seat of one. Isn't that Mr. Fina's associate?

"Alas, it just looks like a regular factory worker to me?

She said that without ever looking behind her back. Apparently, Mr. Fine also has eyes on his back.

"Look at the outfit and you'll see."

"... sounds like just worker's clothes?

"Right. But the clothes are the problem."

"Saying?

"Certainly clothing is a sole of factory workers. It's dirty, and the wrinkles are dropping by. But for the amount of dirt, there's not a single solution."

I don't know what factory you work in, but if your clothes are so dirty, you should have had a crack or a hole. But in that respect, it's just like new.

"Extremely handy."

"Hands?"

"Yep. Your clothes are so dirty, your hands remain clean. Nor is it the particular hand of manual workers. And the nails look well maintained."

"... I see"

Even so, I can't tell if I haven't looked at it very carefully. I found such a slightly uncomfortable person because I was carefully observing the presence of the tracker.

There was a possibility of a tracker against me, but he seemed to have been sitting there long before I walked into the store. First, I thought it would be Mr. Fine who would have written such a massive letter of craftsmanship to prepare such a handful of trackers, so I stuck around a bit.

"Sure, I'm an associate of mine. You could call it an escort or a chore or a jammer."

"Disruptor,"

They have been having annoyingly loud conversations since earlier. Probably an action to keep our conversation from getting overheard.

"Well, I'll tell you what you pointed out later. 'Cause they're still new."

"Well, are those men the counts' men?"

"Yep. Make it my father's men, and he seems to know me personally. Whatever your tracking arm is, you can trust it."

A tracking arm. Does tracking mean tracking me, or tracking my trackers? I don't know.

"You should also take care of your connection to royalty and nobility. Whatever their own abilities, Conne is convenient."

"... I'll remember the liver"

Who would it be to speak of a nobleman who knows such a handy person? Princess Emilia is still on her way to building talent, enough to order me to be stationed as a martial officer. So I guess Maya, the Duke's Lady, or Ilia, the daughter of the Internal Affairs Letter...

"By the way, was it the Captain himself who wrote that letter?

"Of course... was something wrong"

Is it a bad way to keep secrets or something?

"No, the way the date was planted was excellent. December 10th came out in a natural way, and it had something to do with the letter I wrote."

Oh, did Mr. Fine write that letter after all? I was scared because there was also the possibility of Osama's proxy here, yes or her autograph...... All right, let's take care of it.

"But the sentence in question is the red dot"

"What about that heart?

"I won't be attracted to women if I get that love sentence. You can't even catch fish with a woman."

"... this is tough"

I mean, I didn't write that letter to dictate. That was an already deluded couple of settings in the first place. But Mr. Feene won't stop pointing it out. You think it shrivels to be written that way over there, or vice versa, that it's good to have written this here? Me, what are you doing here...

"Fina (...), is it time to get down to business"

"Mm... Okay."

She gave a slightly dissatisfied look, but immediately undone the shape of her face.

"There are two main reasons why I called you: one is about Princess Emilia and the other is about the Eastern Continental Empire. Which would you like to hear from?

"... in the meantime, please, from the matter of Princess Emilia"

Apparently, it's going to be a long night.