Chapter Five: The Cat Likes Roland

Although he was not a mage, with Roland's current identity, he had no means of learning about the Holy Grail War through official channels, but thanks to his knowledge of the story, he could still deduce the timeline. Even without obtaining a Stand, such a minor obstacle was easily overcome.

In the new city, praised for its cleanliness and pallor, dazzling yet devoid of individuality—a landscape fashioned from soulless steel, glass, and paint, so unlike the nostalgic mountain metropolis of the past, more like a modern jungle of iron—there were still things worthy of pride. Chief among them was the Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel, not only the tallest building in the city but also its finest. Even those Fuyuki citizens who cherished history could not help but look upon the hotel with admiration. The business suites there were often vacant, and it was easy to hear rumors of someone renting out an entire floor.

Beyond this, there were other, more mundane methods—regularly praying at the church and observing how often the infamous priest with the perpetual smirk appeared, keeping an eye on public events to see if the esteemed head of the Tohsaka family was present. Such clumsy efforts, if executed thoroughly, could yield better results than deliberately seeking out informants.

Nevertheless, the first to hear any news would always be someone intimately involved, like Aoi Tohsaka. To avoid unnecessary suspicion, Roland had never gone out of his way to track down the Tohsaka mother and daughter, yet, to his surprise, he encountered them by chance during his part-time job—a delightful stroke of luck.

“Well then, it's time to prepare for the move. Judging by Aoi Tohsaka's words, it should be around next week,” Roland mused, unconsciously biting his nails as his gaze grew somber.

He had no interest in the Holy Grail War and wished only for a peaceful life, but whether for the sake of maintaining it or for future considerations, Roland continued to investigate the whereabouts of the Contract Spirits. As for how to search, that was not difficult. Such entities were not natural phenomena, but creations of the Key of All Souls. Without the knowledge and assistance bestowed by the Key, one could not form a contract with a Spirit, let alone assimilate its power.

Any Spirit that escaped would follow its instincts, attaching itself to things or living beings that attracted it. With inanimate objects, the worst outcome was the gradual devouring or madness of the user. But if it latched onto a living being, the danger escalated.

If the host was less perceptive, they might only hear whispers from beyond and gain little from the Spirit other than incomprehensible knowledge—eventually developing distorted obsessions that would lead to madness. Such an end was not the worst.

The real horror lay with those “lucky” enough to resonate deeply with a Spirit’s price and possessed high sensitivity. Borrowing the Spirit’s power, their very souls and essence would be tainted by this force that straddled the boundary between life and death. If fortune favored them, they would merely lose their personalities and become raving lunatics. If not, they would be twisted into monsters, or even trigger calamities that could threaten the entire world.

Yet, thus far, Roland had uncovered no signs of any unusual phenomena. Under the pretext of familiarizing himself with the city, he had already visited several famous landmarks during his regular walks in recent days. He played the tourist at Ryuudou Temple, passed by the Tohsaka and Matou mansions by chance, and had even gone out to the Einzbern Castle in the suburbs during a day off. Still, the Key of All Souls remained silent, offering no clues.

This could mean only two things: either the escaped Spirit was extraordinarily weak, leaving barely a trace, or it had already wrought immense influence—so much so that, due to differences in information or circumstance, Roland could not perceive it at all.

From any perspective, it was hardly encouraging. But since the Key of All Souls had brought him here, it proved the primary traces of the Spirit lingered in this city.

“In other words, is it possible the Spirit has attached itself to one of the Masters in this Holy Grail War?”

Roland sighed, feeling a headache coming on. Unless absolutely necessary, he truly wished to steer clear of such matters. Well, he would take things one step at a time and leave tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow’s self.

As the manager approached with a thick envelope in hand, Roland, outwardly composed but inwardly expectant, offered a sincere and heartfelt smile.

Today, he still had one more important matter to attend to without delay.

……

In the dead of night, a tall, blond young man crushed an empty bottle in his hand and hurled it aside in a fit of frustration.

“Damn that old man—couldn’t even die peacefully and still has to make trouble for me? And those blockheads in the Fujimura gang are just as stupid. That house is already mine, but just because of some dead man’s request, they won’t let me cash it in. They even tell me to cherish it?”

As if recalling some unpleasant memory, the youth angrily cracked open another can of beer and gulped it down.

He was something of a notorious figure in the mountain town—though not in any positive sense. In these hard times, there was no shortage of idle loafers, but when it came to being a scoundrel, few could match him.

He shirked all honest work, bullied the weak, indulged in every vice, squandered most of the family fortune, and drove his ailing mother to her grave. After being thrown out, he returned only a few years later—still neck-deep in debt and with a host of thugs in tow demanding repayment.

His elderly father was forced to sell off the family's last assets, leaving only the ancestral home, before finally passing away. Friends had to pool resources just to hold the funeral.

This once-prosperous family, barely touched by the collapse of the bubble economy, was utterly ruined in a few short years by its own heir—a truly bitter irony.

Yet, evidently, these events left little mark on the blond youth. He was still lost in the joy of anticipated windfall.

Although the property market had declined, the old house, being ancestral, was well-located and sizable—quite desirable, and likely to fetch a good price. But after hastily putting it on the market, the youth soon realized the consequences of his reputation. The house’s value meant only those of status could afford it, and in Fuyuki’s not-so-large world of influence, face was everything.

No one wanted this infamous hot potato. Even when the youth, gritting his teeth, offered to sell it at a steep discount to the city’s largest underworld group, the Fujimura gang, they refused outright.

These buyers were not people he could intimidate. In the end, he could do nothing but drink cheap canned beer by the roadside, dejected and alone.

“Meow.” Just then, a black cat walked lightly along the wall, its pace unhurried. Perhaps put off by the stench of alcohol, it let out a disdainful cry.

In his foul mood, the blond youth was inevitably provoked.

“Damn it! Everyone looks down on me—even you, you stupid cat!” He hurled his can at the feline, but, misjudging its weight as it was still half-full, the can merely landed at the cat’s paws.

Startled, the cat bolted like an arrow, leaving the drunken youth struggling to regain his balance in its wake.

And then—the frightened black cat ran headlong into a young man just rounding the corner.

To the blond youth’s surprise, the young man, though seemingly caught off guard, reacted with uncanny precision. His hand, as if guided by some mysterious force, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and gently cradled it.

Roland slanted his gaze, one hand instinctively shielding the bag he carried, the other lifting the cat, staring in bewilderment at the man and feline before him.

“So… what exactly is going on here?”

Though dangling in the air, the cat showed not a hint of fear. Instead, it licked its paws contentedly, rubbing its head against Roland’s hand with a pleased mewl.

“Meow—”