Chapter 341
Chapter 341
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.71 - Cowardice Isn't the Villains' Exclusive Turf (5)
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It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission.
...
A fitting way to describe what they did.
"Haa... Couldn't you at least have consulted me minimally, Your Highness?"
"I'm sorry, Raphael, but if I'd consulted you, this plan never would have gone through. You never would have allowed it."
"...I won't deny that statement, Your Highness."
"Exactly. That's precisely why I couldn't tell someone as principled as you."
"......I suppose you're right."
"...Just get angry with me. That would feel better."
...
Raphael didn't spout any platitudes.
He didn't say things like 'This isn't right' or 'How can stooping to the level of those rejects be just?' Not a single appeal to conscience escaped his lips.
This wasn't because he was cowed by Galahad's authority, nor had he given up in despair over Pierre's actions.
He simply knew.
"Why should I get angry? Your Highness, though I'm just a powerless old man, I'm an old man who's lived a long life all the same. I'm not naive enough to believe the world turns on righteousness and goodwill alone. How can we speak of morals and ethics against those we've deemed enemies?"
"......"
"Of course, I can't say there's no sadness in this, but that sadness stems from my own incompetence. If I'd been more capable, more remarkable, then Your Highness, my brother, and those children... I could have kept them from walking this tainted path. So I rage and despair at my own failings, not at you or my brother."
"......"
"If anything, I'm sorry. If hands had to be dirtied, it should have been mine, not yours or my brother's... I regret it deeply..."
"......Ahem."
Listening to this rambling, Blake rarely showed signs of embarrassment.
No, more than that...
"Please, just get angry. My conscience feels heavier than a lump of lead."
For the first time since age five, Blake felt the sting of his own conscience.
'I almost want to bow my head like a knight.'
He spotted a knight slamming his forehead into the ground in self-punishment, unbidden, and envied him.
The eyes of this saintly man, mirroring not just expressions but hearts themselves, terrified him more than any scolding.
More even than the reprimands of his father, called the War God...
...
Raphael departed.
His already frail body must have been exhausted from coming at this late hour in the dead of night.
Shadows escorted him back to the temple, and once he was gone, the knight quietly released his full prostration.
"...Scary stuff."
"......"
"I always find it scariest when good old folks get mad..."
"......"
"What? Got something to say?"
"......No, sir."
Pierre glared at the knight—or was it envy?
And understandably so...
'He got scolded...'
Raphael had scolded the knight.
An odd thought. Raphael had only sighed at him or patted his shoulder.
If there was anything extra, it was just before departing for the temple.
Tap...
- May the blessings of light guide your path.
A pat on the back.
No one would find it strange.
But Pierre knew.
That was Raphael's way of scolding.
Pierre knew that a shoulder pat or back tap was the harshest reprimand Raphael could give.
...
Only Pierre, cared for by him over long years, knew this.
That's why it saddened him. Why he felt jealous.
Being scolded meant there was still 'trust' there, at least.
Whereas for him...
"......What makes you and me so different?"
"What're you on about?"
"Did I do something so wrong? I..."
Smack!
"!?"
"Damn fool. Now I see your head's not right—did the possession mess up your brain?"
"W-Wait, that's not—"
Thwack!
The knight smacked the back of his head again, and each time, Pierre felt excruciating pain.
Just a hit to the occiput, yet it resonated through his bones like his whole body was vibrating, the agony beyond imagination.
Truly horrific.
As tears welled up involuntarily, the knight spoke regardless.
"If you feel your mind slipping, say so. We'll run some checks."
"Ch-Checks...?"
"Some folks have real mental issues, others just cosplay them. Like guys with perfect anger management who claim they have it around their parents or weak kids."
"......"
"If yours is off, speak up quick. Beating it out—or fixing it—won't take long."
Crack, crack.
"......"
Unsettling sounds emanated from the knight's hands, making Pierre feel his body twisting just from hearing them.
He was certain this 'treatment' would be far more brutal and painful than the head smacks.
And so...
"No, I'm fine. Really..."
"For sure? Don't tough it out."
"Yeah, definitely."
"...Tch, still feels off."
"......"
Pierre's inner demon was forcibly exorcised.
Via a treatment called a knuckle sandwich.
Unaware he'd just steered a man from the brink of darkness, Lee Han finally asked the important question.
"Alright, now that your head's straight, spill it. Where the hell are 'those guys'?"
A dangerous plan targeting great nobles, yet executed anyway.
The sole reason: to lure out the Brass Knights hiding in the capital. Knowing Roseth, who held the intel, wouldn't talk easily, Pierre's role was crucial.
How much of the memory he'd recovered was key.
"...First off, it's certain the Brass Knights were staying with the Roengrin family."
"That opener makes me uneasy."
"Spot on. Roseth doesn't know their current whereabouts. Or rather, didn't care."
"......"
"D-Don't look at me like that. I'm just relaying what's in Roseth's memories..."
Pierre relayed Roseth's intel as best he could.
"B-Baron Roseth spared no support for illegal mages or alchemists to achieve his 'goal.' He funded their drug trade for research cash."
"Unbelievable..."
"In the process, he seems to have killed his own father, whom he saw as an obstacle. Probably figured exposure would ruin everything."
"......"
"Don't look at me like that. I'm not Roseth!"
"What look? Why're you freaking out?"
"......I felt killing intent."
Pierre sighed deeply, fearing for his life, and barely continued.
"...In that process, the Blood Crusaders—hiding in the temple back then—approached Roseth with an alliance offer. He judged they'd aid his goal and gladly joined hands. And... here we are."
"......"
"......"
"...?"
"What's wrong?"
"That's it...?"
"What's the point you're trying to make?"
"No... You said allies? Shouldn't he know something vital?"
The Blood Crusaders' goals, their hideout, or even sketches of the Brass Knights.
Lee Han needed specifics, but unfortunately...
"...Roseth didn't care about that stuff."
"......"
"No lie. Having absorbed this man's memories, I swear it. Baron Roseth was utterly indifferent to others, willing to ally with any criminal for his goal, uncaring of their backgrounds. In common terms..."
A sociopath. Not emotionless like a psychopath, but antisocial, arrogant with power, inching toward psychopathy.
Additionally...
"Baron Roseth had congenital prosopagnosia. Normal people with it find ways to remember faces, but this arrogant bastard didn't even try. So Roseth wasn't just a sociopath—he was an extreme egomaniac too."
"Now you're calling it 'your body'... Just a defective idiot, huh?"
"......"
"...Useless, this guy."
Lee Han couldn't believe Roseth's uselessness despite the ordeal.
What kind of freak is this?
Sociopath with face blindness, too lazy to even vet shady allies.
"Dream demon, can you wake that bastard again?"
"Why?"
"Gonna beat him more. This ain't enough—he's viler than goblins, no, spellcasters even."
How does one pack every infuriating trait?
Lee Han grimaced, having met his first guy worse than a spellcaster.
"W-Wait! I-I'll check the memories more. There must be something useful!"
Cold sweat pouring, Pierre frantically sifted memories.
With useless stares piling up, he felt the crisis keenly.
Desperate to prove his worth, he dug deep.
"Th-There's memories of the half-demon production process. Also lists of nobles aiding Roseth, plus alchemists and mages."
Valuable—extremely so—but not what they needed now.
As Lee Han's face soured with disappointment...
"...But what exactly was that 'goal'?"
"......"
The duke tossed out a casual question laced with doubt.
He'd glossed over it earlier, but Roseth's 'goal' remained unclear.
"......"
...A light query for the duke, but Pierre stiffened again, sweating profusely.
Lee Han's pressure plus the duke's—he was dehydrating.
"...I said earlier. Baron Roseth had severe congenital prosopagnosia. Couldn't even recognize his parents' faces. But there was one woman he could identify."
"......"
"The first face he ever recognized was novel enough, but she was beautiful too, so he fell in love. However, she had a lover. One superior and greater than Roseth himself..."
"What... are you saying right now?"
Pierre forced the words out, steeling himself.
Even sensing the duke's chilling aura intensifying, he pressed on.
The truth would out eventually.
Hiding it was pointless; better now than later.
And so.
"...Even decades later, Roseth still loves that woman. At some point, it twisted from love into obsession. Roseth's goal? Reviving her dead body to make her his. For that, he committed countless evils and achieved some success..."
Drip, drip...
"H-He finally found a way to revive her, u-using the avatar she left behind... Her 'daughter' as sacrifice to restore her body."
"...!"
"B-Baron Roseth perfected hair-based paternity tests through endless research. He found her daughter that way—and she was under Galahad's protection."
"......"
Pale as death, on the verge of collapse, he mustered his last strength to end it.
"...Duke, Your Grace, the foster daughter you took in is indeed the child of the woman you loved. ─Irene Windler, that girl is your biological daughter. And Baron Roseth isn't the only one targeting her. The Brass Knights too, for her fairy blood, they—."
Thud.
With that, Pierre fainted, eyes rolled back.
Unable to withstand the duke's 'rage,' he'd lost consciousness.
...But the duke paid no mind, still silent.
Afterward,
"My child... Reviving my wife? Targeting my daughter? Ha, haha."
[......]
"This is absurd. What the hell is going on..."
Crack, crunch!
The surrounding wind—no, space itself—shattered.
His fury resonated with his magic sword, which spat flames.
And so.
"─Kill every bastard targeting my daughter. Civil war? I don't care if it starts!"
[[[GALAHAD'S GLORY! DEATH TO GALAHAD'S FOES!!!]]]
...
Duke Blake Galahad had awakened.
"...Talk about jumping on the bandwagon late."
He wouldn't believe it when I hinted she was his daughter, but swallows it from his most hated rival?
That's some late bandwagon.
Sheesh...
Before the overwhelming momentum—too fierce to rein in even if he tried—Lee Han's body tingled, and he shrugged.
As if wary of disturbing the whale.
"...That chickadee? No way she's getting married now."
Who could greet such a terrifying father-in-law?
At least...
'Not me.'
His back shuddered at the thought.
Flinch!
"Wh-What?!"
[Aerin, why'd you wake up suddenly? Nightmare?]
"Y-Yeah, it was horrific. I dreamed I'd live as a spinster forever. What a dream..."
[Total nonsense. Drink some cold water and sleep.]
"Y-Yeah."
Irene felt an inexplicable unease but closed her eyes and drifted off again.
Hoping this time to dream of sleeping nestled in the instructor's muscles...
Overwhelmed by sudden fatigue, Irene began snoring softly once more.