The shoeshine boy noticed that I was wearing boots, not shoes. But that should be impossible. Amya’s puppets, unless they become family, are merely used as mindless consumables.
This was a fact I knew even before infiltrating this place. Did this boy alone somehow regain his self-awareness? That couldn't be.
He must have simply been ordered to do so. To repeat the actions of a shoeshine boy. Under that command, the boy was able to distinguish between shoes and boots.
"Hmm?"
Amya looked back at me as if asking what I was talking about, and I calmly continued my explanation.
"If I could unlock the memories of those I control, I could use that to draw in far more of the fallen ones."
"I see. How many?"
"I believe about half of the Lower World would be possible."
It was a slight exaggeration, but it was true. For some reason, the people of the Lower World were extremely afraid of becoming Amya’s puppets, so if I could just make them understand that they wouldn't lose their memories, the problem would be solved.
They would truly judge that serving under Amya was heaven and walk here of their own accord. Since Amya would want that as well— "Hmm, brother." Instead of answering my request, Amya suddenly looked down from the palace terrace with an affectionate gaze and said something strange.