"Ah, Sir Dracula, welcome back."
Mordred opened her door and saw Dracula standing outside.
"Hey there, little Mo," he greeted her casually.
"What are you doing?" she asked, peeking around him.
She spotted Kirie using her undead to clean a room for the two new guests—the silver-haired ahoge girl and the red twin-tailed one.
"New guests?" she asked, curious.
"Mm. Old acquaintances of mine," Dracula said, arms crossed. "Once they're settled, go say hi. You'll be neighbors for a while, so be nice."
"Okay, Sir Dracula," Mordred nodded obediently.
After marking Nyarlathotep with a tracking sigil and placing a magic circle in her room—just in case—Dracula, satisfied that his work was done, turned to leave.
"Kirie, call me when dinner's ready."
"Understood, Lord Dracula." Kirie watched him sway lazily back to his room—likely to play video games again.
With everything settled, Kirie bade farewell to the girls and headed downstairs to prepare dinner.
Mordred, mulling over Dracula's instructions, decided to do as he said and go introduce herself.
She stepped out of her room and knocked politely on the door next to hers.
Knock knock knock!
"Anyone inside? I'm coming in if nobody answers!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Kuko, keep your hands to yourself!"
The door swung open, revealing the silver-haired beauty with the unmistakable ahoge. Something about her gave Mordred an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
"Hello! I'm Mordred. I'm in the room next to yours. I've temporarily entered into a contract with Dracula to assist him with any problems that arise during the Holy Grail War."
She introduced herself earnestly.
Nyarlathotep looked her up and down—long and hard—until Mordred started to fidget under the gaze.
"Wait... she's just a kid?" Nyarlathotep mumbled under her breath.
Then, all at once, she broke into a bright smile and grasped Mordred's hand warmly.
"Ah, welcome, welcome! I'm the smiling chaos lurking in the shadows, an ambiguous associate of Dracula's—potentially a future lover, depending on how things develop…"
"Nyarlathotep is mine!" Kuko interjected fiercely.
Without missing a beat, Nyarlathotep pulled a crowbar from who-knows-where and bonked Kuko on the head.
Bonk.
Kuko collapsed, unconscious.
"Uh…" Mordred stared blankly, eyes going a little glassy.
"Don't worry about the details. Come in, come in." Nyarlathotep dragged her in and plopped her into a chair. She bustled around, pouring tea and placing snacks.
Finally, she poured herself a cup and sat across from Mordred, beaming.
"Please." Nyarlathotep gestured politely.
Mordred looked a little overwhelmed by the courtesy and nervously picked up the teacup beside her, taking a cautious sip.
"Mm, you're such a well-behaved child." Nyarlathotep stared straight into Mordred's eyes. "But it looks like someone as obedient as you has been lacking in parental love, hasn't she? Just like me…"
"Eh? Miss Nyarlathotep, your parents didn't care for you either?" As expected, with just a little prompting, the honest Mordred fell right into her trap, immediately asking with heartfelt curiosity.
"Sigh, it's a long story… Actually, I'm something of a god myself," Nyarlathotep sighed theatrically, covering her cheek with one hand. "So I don't have a mother—I was born directly from my father. But sadly, my father is a complete idiot who doesn't even understand what he's thinking himself. To make matters worse, he's powerful and short-tempered, so I never dared to get close to him at first… I have an older sister and a second brother who were born before me, but my sister is always busy having kids, and my brother is a stiff, cold type who never liked talking to me. Until I met Dracula, I lived a completely lonely life… I didn't even have a single friend."
"You're so strong, Miss Nyarlathotep." Mordred looked at her with sympathy and admiration. "You're honestly the strongest person I've met besides Lord Dracula. Compared to what you and he have gone through, the trouble I have with my father is really nothing…"
"Oh? Then maybe you could tell me about it—your issues with your father. Who knows, maybe I can offer a bit of advice, based on experience." Nyarlathotep rested her chin in her hands atop the table, tilting her head playfully.
Mordred fidgeted and hesitated—it was obvious she wasn't comfortable talking about it.
"Let me guess. You want your father's recognition, but because of something about your origins or how you were raised, she refuses to acknowledge you. Am I right?" Nyarlathotep asked gently.
"How did you know?" Mordred's eyes widened. "I've never even told Lord Dracula or my Master about that."
Poor thing… Of course I know. I've read your father's biography front to back.
Nyarlathotep masked her inner monologue with a shared expression of sorrow. "It's because we're both lost souls, dear. I, too, started out wanting to prove myself to my father… Fortunately, I eventually succeeded. Now I moonlight as my father's messenger—sometimes running errands for him and such…"
"Can you tell me… how you did it?" Mordred asked eagerly, clenching her fists.
"Of course I can. It's actually very simple." Nyarlathotep raised a finger as if delivering a sage's wisdom. "Fathers like that usually refuse to acknowledge their children because of their pride. They think their children would taint their otherwise perfect lives. So—if we want their recognition, we have to overwhelm them with our excellence."
"I've tried to show my father how strong I am…" Mordred muttered, covering her face in frustration. "But it's no use. My father is just too stubborn… and maybe a little dumb."
"When I say 'excellence,' I don't mean compared to average people," Nyarlathotep said, poking her cheek teasingly. "I mean compared to them. Like me—my father can't move freely and is always steeped in chaos. But I? I'm fast as hell and clever to boot. That's how I won him over."
"As for you, little Mo—can I call you that?" she continued with a smile. "Your father's probably a knight, right? And probably the best of the best. So, all you have to do… is outdo her in the very thing she prides herself on. For instance, save someone she couldn't, without even breaking a sweat. Do that a couple times and she won't be able to deny you anymore."
Mordred's eyes lit up with sudden understanding. She grabbed Nyarlathotep's hands and shook them excitedly. "That's a brilliant idea! Thank you so much, Nyarlathotep—no, Lady Nyarlathotep!"
"No need for titles—just call me Sister Nyarlathotep!" she said, patting Mordred's head. "Oh, and I heard from Dracula you're visiting your father tonight. I did some fortune-telling and… well, let's just say your father has some ominous signs hanging over her tonight…"
Blatantly pushing the burden onto her friend, Nyarlathotep continued with a smirk, "Here, I'll bestow upon you a magical artifact. Use it to save your father—and while you're at it, give her a good dose of inferiority. What do you think?"