Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Butler and the Young Lady
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Family gathering.
It was a meeting held every three months by all the bosses belonging to the mafia union of the Dracun Marquessate.
This was due to the strong conviction of the union's overlord—the Godfather, boss of all bosses.
- "A child who doesn't show their face to their father even once every three months is no longer family."
Attendance at this gathering was mandatory.
Unless one had notified in advance and received permission for an emergency, skipping the meeting meant excommunication.
Thus, when two sons (high-ranking union executives) were absent from this regular meeting, the Godfather smashed his desk in two in his rage.
"Those bastards! Drag those sons of mine here right now!"
The man with long black hair cascading down and red eyes bulging with veins stood glaring.
All the "children" in the room shrank back at the fury of the Godfather, whose obsidian-like horns grew like a crown.
"Send the enforcers! Bring them back alive and make them kneel before me!"
And so, to convey the father's disappointment and anger, eight enforcers were dispatched to the cities of the two executives.
Fortnight later.
Only one of the dispatched enforcers returned to the Godfather's side.
"Huff... Pant. Father..."
A scarred man, drenched in blood and sweat with his left arm gone, staggered into the room gasping for breath.
Upon first seeing him, the Godfather suspected betrayal and shattered the armrests of his chair.
His ruby-red eyes narrowed into vertical slits, scales beginning to sprout across his body.
"How dare you...! Have you betrayed your own father?!"
The air grew heavy in response to his rage.
Dragon Fear.
Simply recognizing his presence made lesser beings struggle even to breathe in terror.
In that atmosphere, the enforcer overcame his fear and squeezed out words from deep in his dantian.
"The young masters... have passed away."
The transforming Godfather reverted to human form and staggered.
He had sent men to discipline his wayward sons, only to receive news of their deaths.
Though not connected by blood, souls bound by a bond thicker than blood were no longer of this world.
Tears welled in the Godfather's red pupils.
"And the grandsons?"
"All of them have passed."
"I see..."
The young man called Godfather embraced the one-armed enforcer.
"I won't hold you accountable for the failure. Go rest now."
"I'm sorry, Father."
"No. I'm just glad you at least survived."
Dismissing the enforcer, the Godfather slumped into his chair, lost in sorrow.
Soon, he penned letters to the other bosses and union executives.
- "My children have committed great filial impiety. They went to the heavens before their father."
- "I dearly wish to hold funerals for those boys, but the enemies who killed my sons still lurk in that territory."
- "Take their heads and avenge our brothers."
- "According to my surviving son, the enemies are a trio: an elf woman, an old man in a suit, and a squinting youth."
- "They are Tier 3, Tier 3, and Tier 4 respectively."
- "We've already lost two men, so don't be stubborn and try to face them alone. Always act with nearby brothers."
- "Never commit the impiety of departing before your father."
Thus, the Godfather repeatedly implored his children.
A week later.
"The two young masters have passed away."
The news reached the Godfather's mansion, and a mournful dragon's roar echoed throughout the city.
"It seems they've finally caught on over there."
Dominic spoke, standing before the corpses of the two bosses.
Jane replied nonchalantly.
"Public authorities or crime syndicates, people always get serious when their own lives are on the line. Nothing surprising about it."
Dominic nodded in agreement.
If anyone could peer into Dominic's mind at that moment, they would have scolded him for his shamelessness.
Unaware of Dominic's true thoughts, Jane bowed to the old butler.
"Thanks. For leaving one alive."
No matter how much Jane had grown through recent life-or-death battles, she wasn't yet at a level to face two bosses simultaneously.
For her sake, Dominic had engaged one while she fought the other—purely evading, without counterattacking.
"It wasn't too much for you, right?"
"Compared to my younger days, I've lost some shine, but I'm not so decrepit as to be wounded by a beast's claws."
"Then I'll count on you next time too."
"Gladly, miss."
Her lips twitched at the butler's salute.
"Miss"—a word she'd grown accustomed to over the past few months traveling with him.
It made her feel like a lady from a fairy tale, a bit embarrassing.
It even gave her the illusion that she was now this old man's master.
But recalling the old man's true affiliation, she shook her head and returned to reality.
Instead, she asked about something that had intrigued her throughout the battle.
"I've been wondering since before: did you ever learn to fight from someone?"
She had realized something watching the old man in this fight.
His style shared roots with hers.
No fixed school—just fundamentals and improvisation.
His approach felt familiar to her.
Dominic nodded calmly at her question.
"No. Self-taught."
"As I thought."
He was much like her—unsparing in methods to grow strong, absorbing everything.
From the clues he'd dropped so far, it was clear he'd walked a similar path.
Though the circumstances were unknown, there must have been a time when he burned himself for revenge.
Her thoughts reached that point, and after some deliberation, she bowed to the old man.
"Could you teach me your fighting techniques too?"
If their roots were the same, inheriting his style wouldn't be hard.
Normally, asking for instruction in this world was extremely dangerous.
To a master, a disciple was a refined pill; to a disciple, a master was a fateful opportunity ripe for the taking.
Thus, in the early journey when she couldn't trust the butler, she hadn't asked—instead planning to use him to complete her revenge.
But over the past few months, she'd concluded she could trust him a little.
(For the record, the squinting tax officer was still highly suspicious.)
"Right now, there's nothing I can do for you. But once all revenge is done..."
"Very well."
"What?"
"I'll teach you."
The butler's answer left her quite flustered.
Common sense dictated mentor-disciple bonds were only two kinds.
Either throats bared in enmity, or transactions exchanged.
Yet the old man offered her unilateral favor.
To her, who'd known only harshness, it was an unfamiliar kindness.
Thus, she couldn't easily trust it.
"What's in it for you?"
"Isn't a flower blooming more beautiful than new kindling piled on ashes? That's payment enough."
"Flower? Are you seducing me?"
"Hoho. I'm flattered you see this old bones as so youthful. You don't need to know what the flower means just yet."
At the old man's meaningful words, she tilted her head,
then said,
"Got it. Looking forward to it then, Dominic."
Weeks passed.
During the journey, the butler taught her bits of his fighting style in spare moments.
"A sword needs technique, not just force. If you can't cleave foes in one stroke, just think of accumulating wounds."
"One vital spot is far more threatening than dozens of scratches. Steady your impatience and fight with more leisure."
"In a race, if you know the signal in advance, you start a half-beat faster. Combat's the same. Unless one side overwhelms, duels are always a numbers game."
The old man's style was cowardly, unpredictable.
Exploiting enemy gaze, terrain, for unexpected moves to strike weaknesses.
Compensating bodily limits with skill, since speed couldn't always be overwhelming.
She loved it.
"Were you an adventurer?"
"In my younger days."
"Knew it."
Having started as an adventurer herself and reached this realm, she absorbed his style like a sponge.
In the process, his mindset naturally flowed into her.
"You didn't hold back on means in your youth, huh?"
"Hoho."
The butler brushed it off with laughter.
She didn't pry deeper.
She could guess his past from what he'd hinted.
With today's lesson done, the two headed to the market streets.
The squinting tax officer was a high-up, so meals fell to her and Dominic.
(Unbeknownst to her, the tax officer himself was dying of discomfort.)
Strolling the streets of the city they'd liberated before to stretch their legs, she saw smiles on people's faces.
Citizens no longer feared mafia shootouts or protection money, boldly enjoying daily life.
- "Vigilantes forever!"
Word was, Rex had dispatched administrators late to cities her group had stirred, preventing chaos.
Like lightning rumors spreading far, her group became famous as the vigilante liberators.
Surveillance intensified between cities, but so did citizen support for her.
Children, lovers, parents, elders.
Hearing countless citizens chant her name stirred a fluffy warmth in her heart.
Noticing, the old man smiled fondly.
"Do you see it now?"
"..."
"Revenge? I won't say it's bad. But isn't revenge ultimately for self-satisfaction? If so, imagining happiness after revenge isn't wrong."
"I..."
"Whether fire's remnants become ashes or fertile soil for new crops depends on perspective."
She nodded.
And reached out to the butler—
"Too early to discuss that, isn't it?"
Grabbing the wrist of an assailant swinging a hand axe at the old man's neck.
Ignoring the struggling attacker, she addressed the butler.
"Your guard's too lax. Planning to go out pathetically stabbed in the back?"
Chuckling, the butler pointed downward.
Her gaze followed: a wire connected to Dominic's white glove.
It coiled around the hand axe's handle.
She smirked.
"Sly geezer."
"Thank you for your concern, miss."
Dominic wiggled his fingers.
Clang.
The severed hand axe dropped to the ground.
Taking the cue, she slammed her fist into the assailant's jaw.
Dominic spread wires around her, slicing the ankles of surrounding ambushers.
Jane shouted.
"Dominic! Don't let a single one escape alive!"
"Understood, miss."
The butler saluted courteously as always and carried out her order.