Dungeons for the Devil, Dungeons for the Core (Book Version Title: A Different World Dungeon Made with the Devil)

"Is this that sugar?

"Yes, the subhuman daughter tried to add sugar because she wanted to enjoy the taste change little by little."

"... you're a very profitable man."

In one of the rooms of the Central Church of Yalta, Pope Bocca I had received from the commander of the intelligence forces the "sugar" in kind - apparently obtained in Saurand from the days - that made the May festival noisy. Apparently, Yalta intelligence agents were one better than their Theodoram and Illustrian counterparts.

"Hmm... that's just brilliant white. Theodoram's self-proclaimed" fine sugar "is different."

That said, Bocca I put a small amount of sugar on his fingertips and tasted it peppery at the tip of his tongue.

"Mmmm... no clutter at all. It's just sweet. Excellent quality for inbound sugar."

Are you saying that all this stuff was handled by the sub-people...

"What are the sub-people thinking?"

Hmm... that's not the problem.

"You definitely rewarded the subordinates for the puppet soldier thing, didn't you?

"was, about six months ago, indeed"

After that, without showing any movement, now this or...

"There seems to be a wise man without alarm."

"What?"

"If I had gotten into Theodoram upside down about the puppet, I would have been impressed by the folk grass (Takusa) that the sub-people were dangerous. However, if you devour the foundations of theodrum in this way, the only thing you see in the eyes of folk grass (sawdust) is the way it supplies delicious ale and fruit water. You can hurt Theodoram without breaking people's minds."

In response to Bocca I, who had been briefed, the commander of the intelligence unit revealed astonishment and wolf.

"Asians do that!?

"Not necessarily."

"... what??

"I am not saying that the wise have decided to be subhuman. Either human or demonic."

"With the masterminds behind the suburbs...?

"We can't ignore that possibility. I may have overthought it, but it would have been better than not thinking enough. Explore it a little if you can."

"Ha!"

After lowering the commander of the intelligence unit, Bocca I sinks into one thought.

(Thanks, I see the shadow of the "Apostle of Batra" behind this matter. I don't know who it is, but I'm pretty sure I'm manipulating the subhuman behind it.)

Bocca I proceeds with his thoughts as he carries the cup at hand to his mouth.

(It's more important now to think about what the Apostle thinks than who he is... we need to be sure of his power when it comes to judging how the Apostle thinks)

Unconsciously pour a replacement cup and pour a new one.

(I tend to be distracted by the sugar thing... whether it's fruit water or ale, I told her it was very cold. There was no sign that the sorcerer-like exercised his sorcery. For some sort of magic prop would have been used. The elves are magically long, so did you use magic props this time because you needed to use the magic of cooling in more than one place? In other words, the number of people who can use the magic of cooling is limited. Demonic props to make it up to you......)

Where he has gone so far with his thoughts, Bocca I shakes his head and shakes off the idea.

(No, it's premature to decide yes. The magic of cooling itself can be sold by turning it into a magic prop.... If you do, is the real sale a demon prop for cooling? From what I hear, many foods last longer by being stored cold? If you are a smart merchant at the end of the eye, you will want a cooling magic item)

I shake my head again just thinking that far and rethink.

(No, this is too far ahead again. There is no evidence that the Apostles want business. Ning, are you aiming at the rush of Theodrum and the disengagement of people from Theodrum by teasing these technologies...? Hmm. This would also match the thoughts of the Subhumans. Are you going to take over Awabari Theodoram......)

The Yalta bishop, who had accurately broken through Crowe's thoughts (as well) until halfway through, but had made a huge misunderstanding in his last stuffing. How far on earth does his thought stray?

The night is still long.