Chapter 407
Chapter 407
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: World 4 (11)
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What the hell?
“Volteus at fifteen did what...? What did you say?”
“He jumped me. It was so, so scary, eek!”
“Bullshit! You just spread that ‘rumor’ about him jumping you, didn’t you!”
“If everyone in the world believes it, then it’s the truth, right? Anyway, yeah, I spread all sorts of nasty rumors about him, just like he said. Until every single soul in Straugh Fortress knew about it.”
Rumors. Rumors, huh...
“...You tarnished his reputation?”
“Good girl, smart one, aren’t you? Must be the mage in you.”
From the gist of their conversation, I could piece it together.
“So, that whole ‘Wanna get married?’ thing earlier was in that vein too, right?”
“Exactly. You didn’t seriously think I’d said I wanted to spend a hundred years with a nine-year-old, did you?”
No way. She looked like the type of elf who’d be down for a quick fling with a nine-year-old and call it a day.
Of course, it was a relief that the elf I’d be serving as superior from now on wasn’t some GG-world Serokist zealot.
But hearing Naelda’s “Volteus Recruitment Plan” next, I started thinking she might be even worse.
Nineteen years ago, fifteen-year-old Volteus Straugh had run away from home after getting beaten like a dog, as usual. With plans to leave his family behind, he snuck into the cargo hold of a rail ship.
Naturally, he got caught. Amid the scuffle of “Let me go!” and “No way!”, the cargo toppled over. One of the precious shards inside fell out—a shard that would curse any normal person just for touching it. But in Volteus’s arms, it gleamed peacefully.
Seeing that, Naelda shouted “Jackpot!” and swooped in like a hawk.
“No matter what, I had to take this kid with me. Volteus was a bastard son who’d grown to marriageable age, and a trained knight to boot. If I just snatched him up, the Straugh family would slap a bounty on him in no time. And if he started working as a Shard Knight, that bounty would skyrocket.”
So, Naelda’s chosen method was that infamous “Wanna get married?”
Unlike the gleeful Naelda, the other engineers looked like they were still shaking at the memory.
“I remember it clear as day. She’s rolling around on the train floor yelling about ‘making it realistic,’ then suddenly tells us to fire up the engine and stares into the flames until her eyes are bloodshot. Then she yanks at her own clothes so hard that when her coveralls won’t rip, she begs us to tear them for her... We knew big sis wasn’t your average elf, but back then, I thought she’d lost her mind for real.”
“Realism? What kind of realism?”
“That... that stuff! You’re too young for it!”
Ah. That kind of realism.
‘She’s nuts.’
After finishing her hyper-realistic “Victim Cosplay,” Naelda marched straight to the Straugh family, arm-in-arm with the fifteen-year-old runaway teen.
She’d taken crowded streets on purpose, so by then, the rumors had spread throughout the entire Straugh Fortress city.
“I dabbed at some tears and said it: This family’s son took my purity. I was exhausted from my pilgrimage and couldn’t resist, so according to elven custom, I’ll take him as my mate.”
“...Elves have a custom like that?”
“As if.”
This thug of an elf was completely unhinged, no doubt.
Anyway, the bastard son—who’d only been useful for distant blood ties with other houses—got wrapped in scandal and lost all value.
Already a “beautiful female elf conductor” who was a regular in every train magazine, Naelda’s entanglement turned Volteus into the Straugh family’s biggest headache.
Why keep around useless baggage that only stains the family name? Naturally, they kicked him out.
Volteus was exiled from the Straugh family. Naelda snapped him up and floored it from Straugh Fortress City to Orton Hill Fortress City on the opposite side. Exactly one month later, she issued an official statement via interview: divorced.
“How’s that? Pretty slick method, right? No one loses out—especially us, we didn’t spend a dime to snag a nobleman’s son.”
...Slick? You call that slick?
“Uh... Volteus got branded an elf rapist for life, though?”
“Pfft~ Come on, that’s nothing! To seize your freedom, you’ve gotta swallow a little infamy like that!”
Volteus Straugh. Shunned his whole life until he fled home, becoming at fifteen an elf rapist and divorcee.
All for the freedom to ride cramped, sweltering, stinking trains.
.
.
.
.
Volteus, what kind of life have you lived?
His eyes squeezed shut in meditation-like focus seemed to carry the scars of humiliations and endurance from his train days.
“Got the gist? Ready to start? Go change into some clothes I can rip.”
“W-Wait! Hold up! Stop!!”
Ready? What ready? Starting off slapped with the terrifying title of “9-Year-Old Elf Conductor Rapist”?
No way in hell. I already had that evil aura passive; spread a rep like that, and folks from that world would swarm me like flies!
Naelda, pulling some ominous outfit of unknown purpose from the jumble of luggage, shot me a pitiful look at my protest.
“Kid, that’s how the world works—one thing gained means one thing sacrificed. Look at Volteus now; pile up enough fame, and little stains like that vanish without a trace.”
“Any marriage proposals for Volteus in the last few years? Sure, his family status is iffy, but he’s a Lord Slayer-grade Shard Knight.”
“W-Well? A few, maybe?”
“Legit ones—no bastards, no remarriages, no affairs, no flaws?”
“Uh, um...”
“None! That’s no ‘little stain’! You wrecked a perfectly good human’s future!”
“I... I’m fine. With my life... now... satisfied...”
Look at him, the elf can’t even lie.
Watching Volteus grit his teeth and mutter he was fine made my eyes sting. Naelda was saying that’d be my future.
Hell no. I’d rather hole up here for years without riding that train.
“Tarnishing your rep is fine, but let’s skip the jumping part—something else?”
“Hmm? Why? For a bastard son, marriage alliances are his biggest value, so scandals there hit hardest.”
“Common sense: Does a nine-year-old forcing himself on the elf in charge of this massive train make any sense? At least Volteus was a trained teenage knight!”
“Kid, you don’t know much about noble boys’ scandals, do you? There’s way worse out there. Just the ones I know—”
“Why does your mind always go there? There are better ways!”
“Better ways? Like what?”
“Uh... well...”
What? What could there be?
‘Think, kid. If you don’t wanna start as an interspecies rapist, think of something—anything!’
Naelda’s method was undeniably efficient, results-wise.
Even with racial integration, prejudices lingered. Hitting racial customs was a tough angle to argue against.
‘Racial. Racial, huh...’
Come to think of it, weren’t there other races besides elves here?
I turned from Naelda to the engineers lounging around.
There were. Besides elves.
Furballs and dwarves.
Tools needed... Plenty lying around.
I wriggled out of Naelda’s arms and grabbed an arcane shooter the engineers hadn’t finished packing.
“Naelda. One question.”
“Hm? Shoot.”
...Click!
“Any among you who’ve wanted to plug one of these guys at least once?”
“Him.”
Naelda pointed without a second thought. Damn, I know that face too.
Click, clack!
“This... for tarnishing rep, it’s an option...”
“Oh?”
“Not bad...”
They both nodded at my offhand plan.
“...Boiler Room Four, Gary, was it? Uh, yeah... Sorry about this! All around!”
“Wh-Wha?!”
Bang—
The day’s second gunshot echoed through the station.
And so, Gary Coralhand of Boiler Room Four paid the price for running his mouth.
****
Midday, when lunch-induced lethargy settled in lazily.
Bang bang bang bang!
“Guh?! Wh-Who’s there!”
“Who? Me, you bastard!”
“This the Brasol House? Get out here now! Before I twist your damn head off!”
Guard Tolrad of the Brasol House rushed to the iron gate at the voice daring to insult them from Pardau territory.
Creak—
The raspy, furious voice rang out, but the peephole showed nothing.
‘A dwarf.’
Tolrad felt relief wash over him. Dwarves were short and timid, after all. Probably here over something trivial, like watered-down rations or too much work.
“Ahem! Who dares cause a ruckus at the Volteus estate!”
Powering up the crowd-control gear just in case, he flung open the mansion’s side door. There was a barred gate inside, and the gear’s shockwave could easily blast a small-framed dwarf.
Four dwarves at the door. Two with bushy beards and furious faces, one bandaged and looking exhausted, and a sturdy young boy tightly bound with rope...
“Y-Young master? Professor young master?”
“Yeah! This house’s brat!”
“Tell the head! This pea-brained punk assaulted a rail ship engineer! Train attack in Pardau! Blood’s already been spilled!”
“Gasp! A t-train attack!”
The guard, ready to shockwave the dwarves and rescue the young master, froze under the weight of those words.
Train attack. How terrifying.
Magic trains were humanity’s lifeline, ferrying resources between cities, loaded with valuables.
Sometimes brazen bandits ambushed them on tracks. The problem? Nearby territories bore the blame. Nobles guarded trains and rails. An attack meant the fortress city’s house was deemed incompetent, halting all routes until fully resolved.
Pardau would be cut off from trade for months at least.
“Y-Young master? You really... shot that dwarf? Yourself?”
...Nod nod.
‘This stupid little shit!’
If he’d just lied, but this ignorant third young master admitted it in front of a crowd of witnesses.
No choice now.
“P-Please wait. I’ll fetch someone who can handle this!”
“Just get the head out here!”
“Can’t you see Gary? Mana bullet in him! He’s choking on mana poisoning!”
“Dwarven law! Dwarven law!”
Caw caw! Squawk squawk!
The dwarves yelled at the retreating guard’s back, then whispered to Professor as footsteps faded.
“Th-This work? What if Brasol slaughters us to silence us...!”
“I-I-I’ve got a weak heart, not good for this...”
“Pr-Priest... call a priest... hurts so bad...”
“Yeah. You’re all doing great. Gary, hang in there—priest later. Lowest-output mana round’s just crowd-control power, right? Your pained face sells it perfectly.”
“Ugh... Mages are cranky lunatics, huh...”
Dwarves, born petty and timid, griped endlessly but rarely blew up like this. When they did, though, they went berserk—famous for it.
Clank—
Creeeak!
“The family head will see the three dwarf visitors and the young master!”
The Brasol House’s heavy iron gate swung open with the guard’s shout.
“W-We’re really going in? Us too?”
“Yeah. No funny ideas—just stick to what I said. Faces red with rage, voices loud, repeat the lines exactly, and for anything else, ‘We ain’t listening!’ Got it?”
“A-Agh...”
“W-Wanna go back to the engine...”
The dour-faced dwarves supported injured Gary and dragged the bound me inside the Brasol House.
Servants bustling about turned to stare, including a staggering Catreia on the verge of fainting.
‘...Sorry, Catreia!’
I can do this. I must. I swore I’d do anything to save this world!
Ignoring Catreia’s gaze, I steeled myself watching the timid dwarves’ savage performance.
Deep breath. Tense every muscle.
Eyes bloodshot per Naelda’s instructions, teeth bared—
“Hee hee he he! I’ll kill you all, you fly-like inferior scum! City pests! Trash! Lowly beasts!”
In front of the Brasol folk and Catreia who’d raised me with love, I flopped like a live fish.
“Eek, even after a beating, he hasn’t learned!”
“Brasol’s an old noble house, they say! How’s this thug spawn possible!”
“Pests! Pests! Pests!!!”
The bound boy thrashed wildly, eyes gleaming.
Spitting as he spewed vitriol—it was grotesque enough to wrinkle any nose.
Worse, the sinister aura pouring from him made him look like Satan’s spawn.
“Y-Young master, our young master, aaah...”
Thud—
‘Guhhh! Sorry, sorry, Catreia! I’m so sorry!’
Other maids caught the legless Catreia from the second-floor railing.
My second-best choice to dodge Naelda’s crazy sham marriage.
I had to become family trash on par with “9-Year-Old Elf Conductor Rapist.”
I chose “noble son twisted by parental neglect into a racist psychopath”—perfect match for my innate [Evil Aura Lv.3].
...Side note: Naelda gave a standing ovation when she heard the plan.
Crazy elf.
****