Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Three Invitations
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“Annoying.”
Berbute grumbled as she pressed down on her protruding duck-like lips with her finger.
The biggest regret from this failure was drifting apart from Gadia.
Now, even if she openly tried to act friendly in front of others, Gadia brushed her off coldly.
Her reputation, already poor, plummeted even further because of it.
‘But she doesn’t care about the whispers anyway, right?’
It wasn’t bad that Berbute’s own image solidified as a fragile junior in need of protection.
Still, no one enjoyed being ignored like that.
Especially not Berbute, who believed it was natural for everyone to adore her.
“Later, when our cult no longer needs to hide its power, add Gadia’s name to the list of people to kidnap. I’ll make her regret it and squeeze out her trait.”
And Adelrian’s collection too.
“Ugh, I want them!”
Beautiful, powerful, and rare things were always welcome.
It was a problem if what Berbute wanted ended up in everyone else’s hands.
She preferred rare ones.
“How about meeting her once more?”
Berbute furrowed her brow at the girl’s words as she wiped off Berbute’s cosmetics one by one.
“That brat again?”
Her voice sank, recalling the masked ball and souring her mood, so the girl hurriedly added,
“The ball last time wasn’t ideal for showing off your true worth, Lady Berbute.”
Berbute hummed and shifted her body.
“Well… expressions, head angles, voice tones—they do matter. But still…”
Did she need to target Adelrian directly again? She could just kill him later and swallow up his collection.
As Berbute pondered deeply, a single phrase Adelrian had said that day flashed in her mind.
“Persistent people are unattractive, regardless of age or gender?”
“Heh, hehehe. Right. When the cult rises, kidnapping him, torturing, and killing him would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”
The rage and humiliation she’d felt then.
The anger even brought laughter. She curled her lips into a long smile.
Wouldn’t it be more fun to break not just his body, but his mind too?
Berbute reached out from the bed, and an academy student attending her in place of her servant handed her a hand mirror.
She confirmed her frightening smile in the mirror, then shook her head once.
She held it up to her face again and this time flashed an innocent grin.
“I’ll tame him so thoroughly he rips out his own heart and offers it to me.”
That fool Adelrian was probably just lashing out like a wastrel because he couldn’t gain recognition from his family or house with his pathetic trait. Obvious.
If she gently scratched at his desire for recognition, along with a male’s protective instincts and urge to show off, making him desperate—wouldn’t that be easy?
Whispering sweet nothings like, “Only I understand you. You’re not worthless.”
“A chance encounter is the most classic approach.”
Classic meant it worked so well it became widespread.
“A bit of alcohol would make it even easier.”
Berbute rolled over on the bed, lay prone, and kicked her legs lightly.
“Pick a suitable noble from those the cult has swayed and send an invitation.”
A casual drinking party would be perfect.
Propping her chin on one hand, Berbute smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
* * *
“When do you think people seek God the most?”
“When… they’re struggling?”
“Correct. When they’re struggling. They seek God desperately then, only to discard Him once they no longer need Him.”
That wasn’t necessarily bad. It just proved that humans and Ain alike were ultimately frail beings.
“Then, where do people seek God the most? Do you know?”
At the High Priest’s question, Saintess Ariel glanced sideways at his hand and spoke.
“The temple… the temple, right?”
“Wrong.”
At the word “wrong,” Saintess Ariel slowly rolled up her sleeve, and a thin switch sliced through the air, wrapping around her arm once with a snap.
“Gambling dens.”
When enhancing weapons with fairies, hoping for good effects. When pulling random artifacts with pocket change, wishing for a good one.
Temples were the same.
On Coming-of-Age Day, people sought God the most.
The biggest gamble of their lives. Temples filled to bursting with prayers for good traits.
“People reveal their true nature when cornered. Like you, Saintess Ariel, racking your brain and watching my reactions because you don’t want this lesson.”
The middle-aged High Priest, who looked as kindly as his appearance suggested, chuckled softly and continued.
“We’ll send an invitation to Duke Adelrian. It’ll seem like a place for friendly chats and light games. But there’s a task for you, Saintess Ariel.”
Just a little—bewitch him with those miracles.
“Make him feel God’s presence closer than ever.”
It wouldn’t be bad if you became his god.
The High Priest stroked Saintess Ariel’s head, and she shrugged her shoulders before nodding.
* * *
“On paper, he’s perfect for getting hooked on piracy?”
He loved money, booze, and women. Weak against the strong, strong against the weak, quick to strike maids and smash things in tantrums—so much so that despite being from a grand ducal house, he employed sturdy beastkin as maids.
“But no rumors of him killing anyone means he’s definitely a coward.”
Vile, petty, and only tough on those weaker than him.
Arman tapped the documents, laughing in disbelief.
“And this guy’s one of only two heirs to the Cayman family?”
On top of that, he held the massive interest of the Siren trade?
“Unthinkable in the South.”
In the South Sea Archipelago, strength was valued above all. Enduring the whims of weather that changed several times a day, sailing ships, hauling heavy nets, battling sea monsters.
Pushing back pirates, playing mind games with merfolk, growling at foreign navies.
The rougher the place, the stricter the discipline.
Sure, some might vent on the weak, but making rumors spread this far with idiot antics was the domain of dim-witted pirates.
“How about I just close my eyes and cross-dress?”
Gadia seemed more reasonable.
His adjutant shook his head at Arman’s whining.
“That’s why I didn’t want to come to the capital.”
“No choice.”
“Well, you need to bring back something for the great Southern Admiral to be pleased, right?”
Arman draped his arms over the back of the sofa and tilted his head back.
“Well, to talk business with a wastrel like that, approaching as a fellow scum might be faster than as a business partner.”
Guys like him bet their lives on immediate thrills over future gains.
“I’ll play the wastrel too. Send the invitation. Include royals and nobles with the worst reputations.”
Scum should play with scum. Arman grinned.
“The most stimulating thing would be bloody violence.”
Open an arena.
His adjutant nodded at Arman’s words.
* * *
“How about this outfit?”
Isn’t it just the same martial uniform as before, different color?
“Sigh, better take off the gauntlets? Mid-contact without anything in between might be more fun?”
Isn’t she saying she wants to punch someone barehanded way too cheerfully?
She showed me the invitation among those sent to me, a gladiator gathering where I’d go with Rachel, and she was already excited.
Well, she hadn’t had a proper fight since coming from the borderlands.
‘Maybe split the team…’
Put Luna, Leaf, and Rachel—who had restrictions in the capital—together.
‘Hmm.’
Kane was strong, so I could send him anywhere, and I was confident we could regroup even if separated briefly at the border.
But splitting the squad now felt off.
One team would have to go pretty far, and even with Siren…
‘Trouble if the cult crashes it.’
I gave up cleanly and half-heartedly responded to Rachel while watching Leaf read her book and Luna make cookies with Zero.
I’m not some ruthless businessman. If I only cared about efficiency, they wouldn’t be here.
“Need help?”
“Pick a hair tie first!”
Dodging Rachel’s playful shove, I headed to the kitchen but paused.
“We’ll handle it ourselves. Just sit, please.”
“Young master, it’ll be done soon.”
No, they’re just starting the dough.
Both smiled brightly as they spoke, which anyone could see was…
“Don’t interfere, okay? Come pick a hair tie.”
I had no choice but to be dragged back to the chair. Ah, too much. Does my dough make cookies explode or something?
“No aura, got it?”
“Got it, got it.”
I watched Rachel throw punches at the air like shadowboxing, then blurted out a sudden question.
“But why do you like it?”
“Like what?”
“Punching things.”
In the original story or Innocent Saga, everyone guessed it was just this playthrough’s concept, but Rachel herself had never given a clear reason.
“Doesn’t it feel inconvenient without magic?”
She could use scrolls in a pinch, but the restrictions were huge.
She didn’t use aura by projecting it outward—coating her body was her limit.
So Rachel’s self-imposed restriction was close to never externally releasing mana or aura disconnected from her body.
It sounded minor in words, but having watched closely, it was quite a significant handicap.
“Why do you want to know?”
“You look inconvenienced.”
Her face hardened slightly at my words.
A fleeting expression.
She quickly grinned mischievously again, perched on the table instead of the chair, looking down at me.
“Don’t you ever want to just smash everything when something can’t be done with your strength?”
“Something your strength can’t handle?”
“Hmph, just a figure of speech.”
She shrugged, seemingly bored, grabbed her clothes and stuff, and slipped into her room.
‘Suspicious.’
But I couldn’t force it out of her.
She pledged body and soul to me, but that didn’t mean absolute obedience to my words.
I stared at Rachel’s closed door, slowly organizing my thoughts.
She can’t use magic.
She didn’t help even when Dragon Lord or the dragonkin faced extinction in the chaos later.
Her dragon transformation only appeared outside the original story, Innocent Saga, and Demon King War.
Rustle.
I habitually twisted Kruger’s ring.
‘I need to keep it in mind.’
Several possibilities swirled in my head.
But I couldn’t jump to arbitrary conclusions without proof.
All circumstantial. No hard evidence or confirmation from Rachel.
One thing to note: we shouldn’t expect her to suddenly transform into a dragon or cast magic if we’re all in danger.
‘Though I wasn’t banking on it much.’
Thinking she’d probably hold back appropriately versus she absolutely won’t—those are totally different.
“What’re you brooding over?”
“All sorts? Like whether to attend all three gatherings or not.”
As I sank into thought, Kane approached and asked. I shrugged.
“Best would be to attend all three.”
There were definitely traps. One of them, or all.
“Would those traps be stronger than us?”
“Probably not. They’re underestimating me.”
Especially after I embarrassed myself at the last hunt festival.
Kane glanced at me as if to say, then what’s the worry, and passed by.
The issue was if things escalated, we’d surface too quickly.
Yeah, maybe worrying prematurely.
I pulled out a quill from subspace, checked “attending” on all three invitations, and burned them with a mana flame artifact.
That would transmit the response via the magic on the invitations.
―Administrator, cookies are done.
“Really? Let’s taste them.”
Perfect timing. I called Rachel and headed to the table piled high with cookies.
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