Reincarnated as a Cultist Mob - Chapter 10

 Victims' Club

When I woke up, the overwhelming heat and humidity made it difficult to breathe. Reflexively trying to rub my eyes with my fingers, I was surprised to find both my hands and feet still there. I was alive and intact.

A moment of confusion. Rather than joy, it came from a feeling of resignation—"Will you still not kill me?" or "If you're going to do it, get it over with quickly."

After opening and closing my dominant hand, I shifted my awareness to my son, who was lively upon waking up in the morning.

This isn't dirty talk; it's a serious observation—I think as long as you can get a morning erection, you still have room to spare. Squirming against Joann's thighs, which were touching my lively son, I escaped her embrace with all my strength. The real ordeal begins when physiological phenomena stop occurring and you start passing bloody urine.

"...Phew."

Perhaps because I slept in a proper bed, it seems to have been a remarkably good sleep. My lower back and shoulders, which had been stiff lately, feel light. I don't feel sleepy, and my line of thought is crystal clear.

Unintentionally, thanks to Joann, I was able to get a good night's rest. I'll at least express my gratitude for that point.

"Excuse me."

I left those words to Joann, who was sleeping peacefully, and unlocked the double lock on the room door. As I turned the doorknob to leave, the door wouldn't open due to a strange catch.

(...It was a triple lock, huh?)

I turned the latch hidden in a blind spot and stepped outside. A man coming out of Joann's room early in the morning would surely spark rumors. Fully understanding the structure of the old castle, I quieted my footsteps and headed for the exit without being spotted by anyone.

Fortunately, I didn't run into the cult leader or other executives, so I felt relieved as I placed my hand on the large entrance door. A loud clanking sound echoed. I almost let out a gasp. Did that sound echo loudly for early morning? After all, the interior of the old castle was designed to conduct sound well—

As those thoughts raced through my mind, a dignified female voice pierced my back:

"That back... could you be Okuri-kun? What a coincidence meeting you here."

It's Juankiro. She might be the person I least wanted to meet. I immediately turned around and dropped to my knees. Stopping about a meter away from me, she sniffed curiously.

"You... smell like Joann. Did you stay overnight in her room?"

"...Yes, I was told to stay."

"...Fufu. You really are full of contradictions. Work hard so you don't lose your footing someday."

I know I carry contradictions. Suppressing my irritation, I clenched my fists tightly. Not wanting her to see my face choking back emotion, I kept my head bowed until Juankiro left the spot.

If I take a rebellious attitude, a re-education known as brainwashing awaits relentlessly. I must act as much as possible as if I possess no sense of self...

After she left, I entered a cave at the foot of the mountain. At the end of a path maintained like a mine shaft lay an armory. I came to service my equipment in order to slightly raise my survival rate in the upcoming Battle of Metasim.

I slipped chainmail stolen from Orthodox soldiers under my clothes to lower the chance of my skin getting injured even a little. I sharpened my iron sword thoroughly and checked my crossbow for any malfunctions. These are tools to which I literally entrust my life; no matter how many times I check, I can't feel entirely at ease.

As I checked my equipment, new visitors arrived at the armory. Bracing myself thinking it might be another executive, it turned out to be a featureless, ordinary cultist wearing a jet-black robe.

"…………"

"…………"

I stopped my work and faced the ordinary cultist across a shelf holding crossbows and leather plates. After all, it's an armory early in the morning before anyone is awake; both of us are likely thinking, "This guy is a bit suspicious." Falling into paranoia poisons one's line of thought and clouds the truth. For some reason, while maintaining a certain distance, we fell into a tense stalemate.

"...Good morning."

"Good morning."

"What brings you here?"

"What were you doing yourself?"

He was a young man around my age. However, his eyes shone brighter than those of other cultists.

Other cultists usually either have crazy eyes or dead fish eyes. This guy had neither.

"I'm preparing for the Battle of Metasim."

"I see."

"And you?"

"Me too. I wanted to secure armor early."

"Is that so?"

The young man picked up a plate and tapped it lightly with the second joint of his middle finger to check its strength. Removing me from his field of view, he began looking at crossbows and knives, so I returned to my original task as well.

...It seems I was being overly cautious. Since I couldn't rest easy even inside the cult stronghold, I got frightened by just a regular cultist.

We proceeded with our work. I usually don't engage in small talk. I'm afraid of accidentally blurting out knowledge from my previous life during casual conversation, and I don't want to stand out among the mob characters. Well, until now, by remaining silent, I was able to live as part of the 'vast majority' of ordinary cultists, but recently I'm not in a situation where I can think of myself as just one of the vast majority. Where else is there an ordinary cultist who can spend the night with an executive? At the very least, the current situation is that I'm starting to stand out a bit.

Originally, I was a person who preferred solitude, and a level of presence where no one notices me would be fine. Besides, I don't think anyone wants to flock together inside a cult like this anyway.

(...So there are people inside the cult who think about raising their survival rate too. I thought I was the only cultist attentive enough for that.)

While stealing glances at the young man, I began compounding herbs gathered from the mountains at a nearby table. Besides poison to coat crossbow bolts, it wouldn't hurt to make hemostatic agents and healing potions for emergency first aid. The compounding knowledge of usable herbs is borrowed from my knowledge of the original work.

Looking at the young man adjusting weapons and armor, he seemed to be compounding a different medicine than mine. Curious about what he was making, I watched his hands, and he looked back at mine as well.

"…………"

"…………"

It felt like looking in a mirror. Perhaps that comical sight broke the tension flowing through the armory, as we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"We seem to get along well, don't we?"

"Haha, what a rare thing."

Turning around from the distant atmosphere, we hit it off completely.

The passion for survival conveyed by the young man, his abundant knowledge, and an atmosphere that creates a wall with people even more than I do... every element created an indescribable sense of trust.

In short, the scent of a 'kindred spirit.'

His gestures carried the exact same scent as mine, impossible to hide.

"Okuri-san, under what circumstances did you join this cult?"

"Who knows. I was already here when I was born."

"Haha, same as me. So you didn't join the cult of your own free will either."

Through light introductions, I learned his name was Steve. Like me, he was kidnapped as a young child and managed to survive while spitting blood.

In our peaceful conversation, we implicitly shared our subtle hostility and sense of wrongness toward the cult beneath the surface—not that we could directly blurt out words like having doubts about the cult's policies or goals, but expressing them through metaphors—

Apparently, Steve had doubts about the cult's numerous actions involving murder. While he respects Aros as a worthy leader of the organization, there are parts of his actions that are hard to tolerate... Thinking that it's truly wonderful to have such charisma, so he hoped they wouldn't perform actions that stray too far from reason—that was when he met me.

While he might not be completely freed from brainwashing, Steve retains what society would call a sane mind. Also, given how he stacks very indirect expressions, he understands that speaking out loud within the stronghold is dangerous. Like me, he questions the current cult and has likely even thought about defecting to the Orthodox side. I think he's quite a trustworthy guy.

"...Unlike the others, it seems I can talk to you. I'm glad there's someone like me."

"Me too."

Steve is on the side capable of noticing the abnormalities inside the cult, but the other cultists can't even notice the weirdness. Both are victims of Aros. Raised from birth as excellent pawns for the Aros Temple cultists, knowing nothing else.

Cult Leader Aros is a god-like figure, and everything he does is right. Anything else is evil. The Kenneth Orthodox Church is a bad organization getting in our way. Even though most cultists stopped doubting after having that drilled into them for years and decades... meeting a cultist like Steve was close to a miracle.

We taught each other medicinal compounding methods and deepened our friendship further.

"Let's survive together, Okuri."

"Yeah. I'm glad I got to talk with you, Steve."

Tomorrow is finally the day of departure.

☆

In the interrogation room inside the stronghold, Juankiro Legacy was playing with her snow-white hair with her fingertips. After letting out a bored yawn, she began fixing the hair she had messed around with.

"Ah~ ...The worst."

Juankiro, who was waiting for a certain person, sighed repeatedly and began servicing the torture tools. Finding blood rust or deformation heightened her irritation, but in the end, it became too troublesome, and she finished with a simple check of the current state without proper maintenance.

Just as Juankiro leaned her back forcefully into a chair equipped with restraints, her awaited visitor finally arrived.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"You're late, Pork."

Appearing before the interrogation room door was a woman in male attire. Her glossy black hair was cut short and tied in a single bundle at the back. Her mysterious gray eyes blended with the stagnant air of the interrogation room, and upon discovering Juankiro with those eyes, the woman's thin pink lips curved gently.

"How rare, Juankiro. For you to ask a favor of me."

Her name is Pork Tedlotus. She has a slender model build that looks great in a men's suit.

Spoken to by Pork, Juankiro began explaining the reason she had summoned her.

"I called you for no other reason than this. There's a person I want you to monitor."

"Monitor? Exactly who?"

"...Okuri Mercury."

Pork's eye twitched for a moment. She knew the name of that ordinary cultist.

"Speaking of Okuri, isn't he the one in recent rumors? I heard he's an excellent cultist, but why the need to monitor him?"

"Personal reasons."

I just don't like the fact that a guy like that is starting to be acknowledged by Lord Aros. In short, it's spite—Juankiro swallowed those words. Juankiro and Pork weren't close enough to expose their weaknesses to each other.

That's why she hated it—creating an obligation to Pork. Juankiro maintained a stubborn attitude of not explaining the reason. Quickly sensing that, Pork moved the conversation forward without touching on personal reasons.

"Hmph? If you don't want to talk about it, I won't ask for details."

"That helps. The means of monitoring Okuri don't matter, so just keep up the surveillance for a while."

"I'm not free either, so I think you should do that kind of thing yourself."

"...Shut up."

Pork covered her mouth with a white glove and chuckled softly. Juankiro awkwardly touched her hair.

"So, when will you monitor him from?"

"I can't do it right away. Once preparations are complete, I'll start with an automated type."

"Ah—you're using that, huh. The means don't matter, so as long as you monitor him, that's fine."

Having exchanged dark conversations, the two quickly parted ways after wrapping up their brief alignment.

"...If Pork has anyone you want to interrogate, let me know, okay? Since I owe you a favor, I'll give you a big discount."

"Haha, I'll count on you then. See you."

Other than the content of the request, it was a hollow conversation probing each other's expressions. However, this was their daily life.

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