Anphel pulled out a chair and sat gracefully across from the fraudster. She said, "Congratulations, Mr. Iger."

Iger rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping him. "And what is there to congratulate about being ranked number one on the Schemer Rankings? Now the entire Gospel is lumping me together with Harvey. I've already heard the rumblings in Montphera. People are calling the Rusty Crow and the Corpse King the twin harbingers guarding the gates of the apocalypse. Apparently, my stock is even higher. After all, the necromancer Angel's inheritance can only be passed down to Harvey, but the ritual knowledge I will control in the future is a core technology anyone can exploit."

The two spoke in tones that mimicked the intimacy of a lovers' tryst, yet they were not lovers, nor had they planned any such rendezvous.

He rested his cheek on his hand, looking thoroughly put out. "Speaking of which, is there a complaint hotline for the Gospel? I'd love to report it for a poor user experience. If a scheme is exposed to the world, can it still be called a scheme? If a mystery is laid bare, can it still make people laugh?"

"Can't it?" Anphel countered softly.

Iger looked directly at the red-haired girl, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight, sharp smile. "Of course… it can."

He leaned back. "In my career, the only...