Chapter 190
Chapter 190
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.44 – The Knight Hates Romantasy Events (1)
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*Rattle...*
The boy pedaled his bicycle furiously.
The harder he pedaled, the faster he went, and with every burst of speed, sweat poured off him like rain.
It was a crisp autumn morning, the heat of summer long faded and the chill of dawn settling in—a weather where sweat should evaporate in an instant. Yet the boy's sweat showed no signs of stopping.
*Clatter.*
A closer look revealed the bicycle was loaded with a massive amount of cargo. No wonder the sweat flowed like a downpour; it was only natural with so much weight for such a small frame.
But to the boy, the cargo piled on his bike felt endlessly satisfying.
Sure, it was exhausting, but still...
"Here's your milk and newspaper for today!"
"Thanks as always, Patrick. You really are quick when we order from you."
"Haha, please keep using Patrick Delivery Service!"
Money was rolling in, so despite the hardship, how could he not be satisfied?
"I've been spreading the word to the neighbors. Told them how diligent you are, and now folks are asking to meet you."
"Ah! Th-thank you, ma'am! You'll be blessed for this!"
"Hehe, so you'll give me a discount, right?"
"No can do."
"...You're firm, aren't you?"
"Hehe, please understand, ma'am. I'm still in the red. Once I turn a profit, I'll shower loyal customers with perks. The day will come when I repay your kindness. Definitely!"
"Huhu, looking forward to it."
The boy flashed a confident grin and pedaled off vigorously once more.
Patrick.
It had been nearly a month since the teenage orphan from Empire Street arrived in the kingdom, and he was already blending in seamlessly.
...Honestly, it still feels like a dream.
Patrick still remembered it vividly.
No, he'd probably remember it for the rest of his life.
The day the hated enemy, the Magic Tower, crumbled overnight—and the Fairy of Spring was finally revived.
Boarding the fairy spring breeze with the knights...
Honestly, with the Magic Tower gone and spring restored, he'd considered staying in the Empire.
-But the Empire's no good!
Even with the source of all evil destroyed and spring back, the Empire was still a mess in Patrick's eyes.
A quick calculation told him war could erupt anytime, and even a new emperor wouldn't end the chaos soon.
So Patrick put his thinking cap on and proceeded with his plan to head to Pendragon.
And now, he was steadily launching his 'first business,' proving his choice right.
He had savings from Street life and a bank loan, so for a debut venture, it was a solid start.
'Gotta grow fast before competitors muscle in!'
Delivery service.
Simply put, taking orders for newspapers and milk on the small end, fruits or grains on the larger, and delivering on schedule.
Of course, it was rudimentary now, with just him running himself ragged solo.
But as customers grew and he hired help, it could expand massively.
Some might mock it as childish fancy or big dreams from a kid, but Patrick saw potential. His head brimmed with ideas beyond delivery, so failure didn't scare him.
...I wasn't always this bold.
Patrick found his own passion surprising.
This was why environment mattered... and
"-a guardian even more so."
...Patrick scratched his cheek, a bit embarrassed.
He was thinking of the knight who'd willingly taken him in.
Destroying the Magic Tower was a lifelong debt already, but he hadn't expected care in the kingdom too...
Truth be told, Patrick's bold business start owed to the knight's trust.
The knight lent his name, letting Patrick join the merchant guild.
Now debts piled up, feeling endless.
But the benefactor himself said...
-Debt? I didn't loan money or guarantee anything. Just lent my name casually. So work hard, succeed—not to repay me, but for yourself. Got it?
...Just that he wanted Patrick to thrive. Fine.
'...I'll repay it no matter what! With interest—a hundredfold, no, a thousandfold!'
Far from deterring him, it only fueled Patrick's fire.
Street-born but never a thief or crook, he'd vowed to honor his late parents.
How could he not repay the man who'd avenged them?
It went against decency, against Patrick's pride.
'I'll succeed, absolutely...!'
Patrick, still just a teen, burned with ambition.
He'd succeed in business and become a mega-merchant whose name echoed across the kingdom—no, the continent.
...Though he was still mooching off someone for now.
"...Once I save up, independence first thing, yeah."
*Haa...!*
Patrick sighed deeply, beyond his years, then shook his head to clear worries and focus on the task at hand.
Best not dwell on gloom.
"Next stop's gotta be... Huh?"
*Screech...*
Even pedaling flat-out wasn't enough for busy Patrick, yet he abruptly braked.
A familiar face in the distance caught his eye.
"That guy's..."
Striking red hair and a gloomy, shadowed expression.
Looked like a man, but actually a cross-dressing priestess—and a guest in the house where Patrick boarded. No, definitely.
'Intern, was it?'
Father Pierre.
She was wandering the street, and Patrick blinked.
Lee Han's front yard featured ten doghouses—no, boarding facilities.
Built for the assistant and nine interns, each stamped [Made In Lee Han], hinting at the houseowner's 'devoted' craftsmanship.
He'd picked up woodworking as a hobby, and fixing maid-broken items daily had forcibly honed his skills. Ugly on the outside maybe, but cozy and comfy inside.
Couldn't deny the doghouse vibe, but room for one person to sleep, store gear, and plush bedding made it ideal for minimalists.
In short, solid build and comfort. Thus...
"...Lately, I'm getting attached to this place."
"Gotta admit, it's well-made."
"Didn't a few raindrops fall the other day? Not a leak. And it held through that fortnight-ago typhoon. Impressive."
"Eh, starting to feel like livestock."
"......"
*Haaa...!*
The nine interns.
No, heretic inquisitors sighed heavily.
They weren't the idle type, yet here they were, pampered and penned. Heartbreaking.
Heretics must be sprouting like weeds now...
Unable to purge them, lazing in luxury—it stung.
"-Bullshit. Half the 'heretics' you purge are innocents, you thug butchers."
"......"
"Fat and happy, spouting crap. Lazy asses, tsk tsk!"
"...Ugh..."
A flippant tone reminiscent of the houseowner knight.
But the speaker wasn't the knight who'd reduced them to this.
It was none other than...
"Assistant Damian..."
Damian Pollet, scion of a famed knight house and their 'senior' of over half a year under the knight.
"World's too kind, huh? Back in my day, no time to slack like you. Tsk! Not your fault, though. Instructor's busy training, so no incidents— that's why. Haa... World's upside down, upside down..."
Polite to superiors, but crude as a street thug to underlings—that was Damian.
Forgetting they were heretic inquisitors originally?
No fear of repercussions?
"And you punk! It's Assistant 'Sir'! Intern trash thinking you're my equal?!"
"S-sorry..."
"Sorry ends your internship!?"
"Th-that's..."
"Why the glare? Overflowing with grudges? Pissed at an assistant? Oh dear, I overlooked Inquisitor Sir... My mistake!"
"......"
"Answer me!"
"S-sorry..."
"Sorry ends your internship?"
"...Kkh."
...But today, Damian's roughness edged harsher than usual.
Sleepless nights lately?
Nah, par for the course.
So Damian Pollet wasn't just venting.
"Don't cry. No one's on your side. Spoiled brats... Figures, temple babied you through anything. Grew lawless. Instructor called you worse than bandits—now I get why."
"!?!!"
"Deny it? Boiling mad? Take it up with him. Oh wait, can't—you're the assassins who struck first. ...Vile scum peddling Light's name."
"!!!"
...His contempt made his words cut deep.
'How are these guys so hopeless?'
Damian had been thrilled at first to have underlings, but after nearly two months...
'No fixing these idiots...!'
Inquisitor trait?
Over-brainwashed?
They lacked something fundamentally human.
Maybe 'sympathy,' 'guilt,' or the instructor's casual 'conscience.'
Even Damian, called personality-wrecked, had some sympathy, some guilt...
Not these guys.
Today's chat proved it.
'Purging heretics? They're heretics themselves...'
No qualms killing.
Orders given, carried out flawlessly.
Will-less assassins.
...Today confirmed it: puppets to Damian.
Puppets wielding power behind the shield of the Great [Light of Glory]...
'Sigh, why are these freaks under me?'
Damian found the interns repulsive now; time they left.
Competent workers, but sight alone disgusted.
He understood why society shunned and feared inquisitors.
And he was convinced:
'These guys definitely...'
...Would cause trouble at the first chance.
-He's suspicious of us.
One pair of eyes flashed secretly.
Damian Pollet's threat level skyrocketed.
...Sharp one.
Acts the spoiled noble, but quick thinker, keen observer.
'Dangerous. Eliminate?'
......No, bad move.
Looks weary, but daily beatings and drills made him unusually tough (forced) for his age.
No confidence in a clean kill meant risks.
So...
'Play nice for now.'
Not worst-case yet; opportunities would come.
Escape the knight, fulfill 'the temple's other mission'...
'Irene Windler...'
Chance to abduct her.
The pasta-or-baguette law of romantasy.
......Heroines get targeted a lot.