Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: The Elf Who Wants to Be Sold Off
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She still didn't think much of me, but her tone had softened considerably. A good sign. I was grateful enough if she just wouldn't blindly distrust my words.
"Then I'll head inside first."
I opened the door to the confessional booth and took a seat. After a short wait, I heard a door opening on the opposite side.
A partition stood in the center of the confessional, blocking the view of the other side, but the silhouette confirmed it was Hamtarshin.
"Then, let the interrogation begin..."
I let out a muffled, desperate cry at the voice coming from the other side.
"I confess! It was me who made the slave piss on my father's statue! But it's a misunderstanding! I never intended to do anything like that!"
"...Family Head?"
"I'm being toyed with by that wicked elf! I'm living a life of utter ruin because of the elf! So please, don't upset that elf! You'll die! It's not just you—everyone in the manor could be slaughtered!"
A long silence followed. Hamtarshin held his tongue for a while, trying to gauge the truth behind my words. Growing impatient, I pulled the activation slate for the "anti-monster heavy weapon" from my pocket and slid it through the gap at the bottom of the partition.
"This is...?"
"It's the activation slate for that monster-hunting weapon recently developed in the duchy. I tried to use it to neutralize the elf. But look at this. Far from neutralizing her, I couldn't even scratch a single hair on her head."
"So the witnesses who reported an explosion of light from the central keep recently...?"
"Servants who saw the magic weapon explode, probably."
"Hmm. If what you're saying is true, Family Head, why didn't you tell your household staff? And why didn't you seek help from those around you?"
What kind of question was that?
"Telling the staff would only sow chaos throughout the manor. Do you think an elf enjoying her slave act would like that? The latter is the same. If I rashly ask for help and she finds out, it's catastrophe. And even if she doesn't and I get help, if we can't beat the elf, it's ruin."
"Then why tell only me?"
"I'm pinning my hopes on you. The Church's power might be enough to drive off the elf. Please, take this to the Saintess. The Church's knight order might be able to stand against that elf."
A groan came from the other side of the partition. She still seemed to distrust me, but if I'd moved her even a little, it was a success.
"I've heard you out. But it's hard for me to judge your true intentions. Apologies, Family Head, but I can't rule out the possibility that you're spinning lies to escape your predicament. So I must summon the elf slave for a direct confrontation."
"Inquisitor...!"
"Don't worry. I'll ask only indirect questions to avoid the concerns you mentioned. If that gives me conviction, I'll report this to the bishop."
I started to say something more but fell silent and shut my mouth. Even if I were in Hamtrashin's shoes, my words would sound far-fetched.
I couldn't demand blind faith, so I had no choice but to leave the rest to her. With a sigh, I opened the confessional door.
"Bring the elf here."
*
In the confessional after Theorad left, Hamtarshin stared down at the slate given to him, lost in thought.
'The elf slave is behind all this?'
She wasn't a normal slave, that much was true. The aura she'd shown at their first meeting was anything but a slave's. Still, calling for the knight order? What bravado.
'Trying to weasel out of it.'
Hamtarshin had seen plenty of nobles pulling the same stunt as Theorad. They'd buy a reasonably strong slave as insurance to pin their own misdeeds on.
Even if far stronger than commoners, most slaves couldn't overcome the brands etched into their bodies by the dark mages of the demon realm, forcing obedience to their masters.
Nobles exploited that, blaming their atrocities on the slave to dodge punishment. Odds were high Theorad was doing the same.
'A delusional megalomaniac.'
Or perhaps a con artist's nature was his true face. To Hamtarshin, who had judged countless heretics, Theorad's inner thoughts seemed nothing but sinister.
'Even if the Family Head's words are all true...'
Making someone piss on his father's statue was an unforgivable sin. And Hamtarshin wasn't the type to let slights against the Church slide.
He would punish House Deharm somehow and extract an apology from Theorad. As Hamtarshin thought this and lifted the slate, the confessional door opened, and someone sat on the opposite side.
'Here she comes.'
He wasn't too worried about facing the elf slave. He planned simple questions anyone could answer to probe her true feelings.
Hamtarshin fiddled with the slate and spoke indifferently.
"Listen well. From now on, you will answer my questions..."
Whoosh—
Heat scorched the side of his face. Startled, Hamtarshin turned to see the partition between them burst into flames and crumble to ash.
Beyond it, an elf with beautiful silver hair watched him with a detached air.
"What are you—"
Crack—
The sword he tried to draw froze solid. An impossible chill seeped into the confessional. Frost escaped his breath, and his fingertips lightly froze.
'What in the world...'
This was no magic a mere slave could wield. No, even seasoned mages couldn't chain spells this fluidly.
'Could the Family Head's words all have been true?'
Hamtarshin's breathing quickened in panic, his pupils dilating. Trembling with some primal fear, he watched the elf's gaze of contempt fall on the slate in his hand.
"Arrogant short-lived one."
Emotionless words took magical form, encroaching on Hamtarshin's space. The temperature plunged, choking him to the point normal breathing grew impossible.
"You."
Gah! Invisible hands throttled his throat. Hamtarshin gritted his teeth, hands shaking. Saliva dribbled pitifully from his clenched jaw.
Yet the elf neither loosened her magic nor showed mercy for his plight. She merely calibrated it to keep him from dying—that was her sole concession.
Her dictatorial demeanor felt so utterly natural that Hamtarshin glimpsed an otherworldly nobility in the elf tormenting him.
"Why."
The elf, watching Hamtarshin hover on the brink of death, parted her lips calmly.
"Did you try to kill Theorad?"
Her words pierced the endless agony, sending his mind reeling.
"I, I didn't try to kill him! I only... as an inquisitor...!"
His words broke into fragments like stanzas. The intangible grip clenched his throat fully. Beyond grievance, fury boiled in Hamtarshin.
Try to kill Theorad? What reason could he possibly have? He wanted to clear the misunderstanding, but at this rate, he'd suffocate.
"Kehk, guk...!"
Foam followed saliva from his mouth. Just as life faded from his rolled-back eyes, the elf tilted her head.
"Fine."
The invisible hands vanished from his throat. Haack! Hamtarshin gulped air desperately, coughing like a man choking.
The elf leaned back in her seat, gazing impassively at his saliva- and snot-smeared face.
"I'll give you a moment to compose yourself. Speak. Why did you try to kill Theorad?"
Hamtarshin, finally catching his breath, lifted his head.
"What the hell are you...?"
"Did I ever permit informal speech?"
Crunch! His index finger twisted grotesquely.
"Argh, aaaargh—!"
The pain of shattered bone coursed through him. Writhing like a madman, Hamtarshin grabbed the confessional door to flee, but click! It wouldn't budge, locked from outside.
He yanked and twisted the handle repeatedly, then pounded the door in desperate wails.
"Open it! Please, open! I beg you!"
Like a sinner fleeing hell, he screamed. Hamtarshin fought to escape, but the elf watched leisurely.
"Scream all you want. I've put a soundproof barrier on the confessional."
"Hic, hnk...."
Hamtarshin, still clutching the handle, sobbed in resignation. The authoritative demeanor backed by the Church's might was gone; now he was like a child begging forgiveness from stern parents.
"I, I never tried to kill Family Head Theorad..."
Crunch! His middle finger twisted like a corkscrew. Greater pain seized him; his mouth gaped, body shuddering.
The agony exceeded his threshold—no scream emerged. Spitting saliva intermittently and gagging, Hamtarshin realized why this misunderstanding.
'The, the slate...!'
Theorad had given him that slate, so the elf believed this absurd lie. No point telling the truth—she wouldn't listen. In her mind, he was already guilty.
'You cunning devil...!'
She'd planned this from the start, handing over the slate. It had seemed off: the culprit pissing on his father's statue requesting an inquisitor? Obviously shifting blame for attacking the elf.
'How many moves ahead did he see...!'
Worse than a demon, that man! Hamtarshin gnashed his teeth amid groans. Trapped in quicksand, he needed to exploit some opening to survive.
As the pain eased, he glanced at the elf—realizing his thoughts too shallow. She hadn't moved an inch from her seat.
'Using magic like that without a magic tool?'
Dedicated gear like a wand was essential to amplify spells.
Even grand archmages carried wands for near-miraculous feats, yet the elf wielded high-order elemental magic, barriers, and telekinesis with mere will, no equipment.
He couldn't fathom the realm she inhabited.
Gulp.
As despair flooded Hamtarshin, the elf sighed and spoke.
"Whatever. Your short-lived politics bore me. Knowing the reason changes nothing."
So what to do with you? Her narrowed eyes fixed on him.
"Killing you would be inconvenient. My amusement ends there. Right?"
He didn't fully grasp, but better agree. Hamtarshin forced a smile and nodded.
"Y-yes."
"But leaving you be risks repeats. So I'll leave a mark."
A stinging on his lower back. Panicking, Hamtarshin saw the elf's faint smile.
"Now I can kill you anytime, you rag-worshipping fool. Understand?"
"I'll keep silent on all manor events."
"Good. Quick on the uptake."
Snap! She flicked her fingers; his twisted digits realigned. But Hamtarshin had no time to marvel at the miracle—the elf stared at him.
"Now open the confessional door and leave. Act like nothing happened in front of Theorad. If you want to live."
"Y-yes, I'll remember."
Hamtarshin bowed deeply, opened the door, and exited. Relief was fleeting. Spotting Theorad waiting, chills ran down his spine.
"Ah, Inquisitor. Did the interrogation go well?"
Impeccably dressed, handsome features. His posture, speech, wrinkle-free smile oozed goodness. That's why Hamtarshin found Theorad terrifying.
'Hundreds of snakes writhe behind that facade.'
Underestimating him was his fatal mistake. This was the head of a prestigious house passed down seven generations. He should have expected cunning.
"Yes. No issues with the interrogation."
Meeting his gaze was unbearable. Answering while staring at Theorad's chin, Hamtarshin hurried across the chapel.
"With the heresy inquiry complete, I'll take my leave."
He walked as if fleeing. Theorad watched Hamtarshin's retreating figure curiously, tilting his head.
'What's with him? Didn't even tell me the results.'
No matter. He'd likely witnessed the truth talking to the elf. With the activation slate, he'd argue my innocence to the bishop and explain the manor.
'At best, the Church knights might even come to help.'
That could free me from the elf's grasp.
'Do your best! I believe in you!'
Theorad watched Hamtarshin's fading back, cheering inwardly.