Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Chapter 19: Interest is Naturally Compounded (1)
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The symbol that appeared after I arrived in Vihar refuses to vanish no matter what I do.
Even layering invisibility over it proves useless.
It hides only my body, while the symbol floats there boldly, making its presence impossible to ignore.
That’s why I’m certain.
It’s proof that I’m under the protection of the Seven Gods, a mark branding me as an outsider to this world, and a shackle limiting my options.
It’s probably a safeguard, exploiting my status as a foreigner to deter any crimes I might commit.
‘If I cause trouble here and bolt back to Earth, there’d be no way to catch me.’
Naturally, some restrictions are in order.
With the church symbol visible, tracking me down after an incident would be a breeze.
‘It keeps me from hiding my identity and stirring up trouble—they’ve made sure of that.’
As a result, that symbol has rendered my invisibility useless here in Vihar.
‘At least it doesn’t show up on Earth. That’s a relief.’
It’s something I’ve confirmed from other players’ reports, so it should be reliable.
Thanks to that, I haven’t lost invisibility entirely—a small mercy.
Not being able to hide the symbol is inconvenient in all sorts of ways.
But that doesn’t mean it can’t be concealed.
By using surrounding structures while invisible, hiding becomes entirely feasible.
Twigs stretching out here and there, half-open window frames, even shadows cast by buildings and trees.
‘Areas with less light are surprisingly hard to notice.’
And humans have an instinct to ignore things beyond common sense.
Making sure that floating symbol in the shadows goes unseen isn’t all that difficult.
Thanks to hiding the symbol that way, I easily caught my tail.
“Do it right.”
At my single command, the two who’d been caught mid-attempt to feed the servant a pile of horse dung flinched in unison.
Both had their heads pressed to the dirt floor, hands clasped behind their backs.
I looked down at the pair and perched on the edge of the flower bed, which came up to knee height.
Then, crossing my legs casually, I spoke.
“I’m warning you ahead of time: every time your back slumps or your posture breaks, you get a mouthful of horse dung.”
Just like what they’d tried to do to me.
If they don’t want to eat it, they’d better hold out.
Having offered my advice and guidance, I beckoned to the servant standing beside me.
“These are the ones who threatened you?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Got it. You can go.”
“P-please, keep this from the butler...”
I waved him off without hearing him out, but the servant stayed put, face pale as a ghost.
He had no intention of leaving until he got the answer he wanted.
To me, that behavior didn’t look good at all.
‘You know you did wrong, but you don’t want punishment?’
Because you were threatened and had no choice but to pitch in?
What a naive, selfish way of thinking.
Expecting forgiveness just because you were coerced is a grave mistake.
‘It was just light harassment, at worst.’
That doesn’t change the fundamental nature of the act.
The servant didn’t resist the threat against him—he offered up a scapegoat in his place.
‘And that scapegoat was me.’
In the end, the servant stopped being a mere victim and became a perpetrator.
‘Always had those types in school.’
The ones who’d claim they were forced into bullying by the delinquents, making excuses. A few in every grade.
Pitiful fools who truly believed that shielded them.
But it’s a delusion, and this servant is deluded too.
His attitude grated on me, so I raised an eyebrow and said,
“If you’re not going to kowtow like these idiots, then get lost.”
Whether it was my lowered voice or my scowl,
the servant finally stopped dawdling and left.
Of course, not before shooting a vicious glare at the two with their heads to the ground.
Seeing that look, I let out a scoff.
‘Everything’s someone else’s fault.’
Never reflecting on their own wrongs, pouring blame on whoever pushed them into it or calls them out.
The exact type I despise with every fiber of my being.
Shifting all responsibility to others while cosplaying as the victim.
Trash who refuses to examine their own choices amid wrongdoing.
Well, his trashiness made it easy to nab him, at least.
‘These two don’t seem like the brains, though.’
I stared at the backs of their heads as they groveled, replaying what I’d overheard earlier.
- What happens if we get caught doing this?
The anxious, trembling voice had made it clear they were forced into something they didn’t want.
“Hoo.”
How many contractors did they subcontract this half-baked harassment to, anyway?
Letting out a long sigh, I fixed my gaze on the backs of their heads as they braced themselves.
Truth be told, the two hadn’t caused me any real harm.
It was just petty annoyances that got on my nerves a bit.
I sat there, leg crossed, foot dangling for quite a while.
Eventually, they began trembling, reaching their limit.
As expected of mana users, their physical prowess was superior.
‘Feels like about thirty minutes have passed...’
Once I could see they were at their breaking point, I finally spoke.
“Who put you up to it?”
In response, the boy with light brown hair and blue eyes—Jeremy—blurted out desperately.
“S-Sir Allens!”
“Who’s that?”
“H-he oversees our training and etiquette...”
“Oh.”
Here, knights take squires under their wing, right?
They handle chores while receiving training and etiquette lessons.
I recalled hearing that a senior knight’s endorsement is required for knighthood.
It was common knowledge I’d picked up from chats with Rashar, who’d started joining me for dinner.
“Tch. Get up.”
At my tongue-click, the two rose unsteadily.
Their faces were flushed red from the blood rush, still boyishly youthful. Maybe fourteen or fifteen at most?
‘I heard sixteen is adulthood here.’
By my standards, that’s ridiculously young.
I’d considered even eighteen—when I lost my parents—too young, so these kids didn’t stand a chance.
Looking at these greenhorns whose blood hadn’t even dried, I sighed deeply.
‘Barely out of diapers, and they’ve got no fear.’
What were they thinking, laying hands on their employer’s guest? Didn’t they consider getting booted?
‘What to do with these idiots.’
I’m a guest personally looked after by Rashar, the mansion’s master and one of the few remaining great noble houses in Ferrel.
My identity may be uncertain, but with the Seven Gods’ guarantee, no one can nitpick.
My position here isn’t low, and even gentler branches of noble houses treat me with respect.
If word got out they’d joined in harassing me, punishment would be inevitable.
‘Well... not my call to make.’
That’s for Rashar, the lady of the house, to decide.
A guest meddling would challenge her authority.
So I had no plans to overstep.
Not that I’d stay completely hands-off.
‘Asking her to hold off a bit should be fine, right?’
Even if Rashar hands down punishment, the ringleader’s fate would be limited.
A slap on the wrist within the organization, or getting fired at worst.
It’d be quiet and clean, but not satisfying to me personally.
‘They touched me.’
Shouldn’t I at least pay them back enough to feel refreshed?
For that, I need to buy some time first. And learn about the other side while I’m at it.
Know your enemy and know yourself, and you’ll win every battle.
“What made you join in on this crap?”
As I began the real interrogation, Jeremy clasped his hands and spilled every detail of the incident.
“I-I’m sorry! He said he’d kick us out... At our age, no other knights would take us if we got fired!”
By contrast, Walter—with his black hair and green eyes—remained silent.
Mouth clamped shut, head bowed.
While watching Walter, I grilled Jeremy for more details.
About twenty minutes passed as I gathered info on this Allens guy.
Once I’d squeezed out everything, I waved them off.
Jeremy bolted like a rabbit; Walter rose slowly.
I wondered why he lingered, standing there.
“...I’m sorry.”
Before leaving, Walter bowed his head and apologized.
Even if coerced, he wouldn’t deny he’d done wrong.
After staying quiet the whole time, only speaking at the end—what else could it mean?
His upright apology drew a light chuckle from me.
“You think saying that makes it all better?”
Walter’s shoulders twitched.
Meeting his rigid gaze, I added a few words.
“If you wanted peace of mind, you should’ve stayed the victim to the end.”
If he’d done nothing to me and just gotten chased off, he might’ve had grounds to feel wronged.
But the moment he joined in harming others for his own sake, he was no longer innocent.
From the instant he yielded to injustice instead of resisting, he lost the right to claim grievance.
The servant and Walter were no different.
If I had to pick a distinction, it was whether they apologized or not.
Truth be told, I don’t weigh that heavily.
‘Better than nothing, I suppose.’
An apology doesn’t solve everything.
For argument’s sake, what if this hadn’t been mere harassment but poisoning—a murder attempt?
Could a simple “sorry” have wrapped that up neatly?
‘“I had no choice” isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card.’
Mistakes and wrongs are different.
Ignorance leads to mistakes, but what Walter, Jeremy, and the servant did wasn’t a mistake.
They knew exactly what they were doing and chose wrong anyway.
‘It’s the same reason I’ve sided with the system for my goals.’
When I requested changes to the main scenario to motivate more players.
I became the system’s accomplice.
‘Though I had no way to eliminate it back then.’
Whether my choice impacted the system matters little.
What matters is I chose complicity, so I’m not innocent.
I’ve never forgotten that.
That’s why I speak coldly to this kid.
“Don’t kid yourself into thinking ‘I had no choice’ absolves you.”
Walter lowered his gaze again, bowed silently, and turned away.
Frowning, I watched his retreating back.
Jeremy had said mid-teens couldn’t easily become squires for other knights.
Knights knowing that sometimes make unreasonable demands.
Allens must be one such case.
‘Knightings usually happen at New Year... Less than a month left.’
Surprisingly, from what I’d learned in days here, it was currently December—year’s end.
‘I confirmed the twelve months match.’
The calendar differs from the solar one, but seasons and date concepts exist.
End of year means winter, as expected.
Yet the weather here feels like crisp autumn because Havon is in the continent’s south.
Robole was a touch colder, and snow blankets the northern Vitheta.
So Walter and the squires would receive their knighthood in about a month, at New Year.
Clicking my tongue inwardly, I called out to Walter’s fading back.
Damn system