Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Aftermath (2)
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Flip... Flip... Flip...
A hotel room overlooking the scenery outside.
Oliver was reading a book there.
The book in question was the tome on demons he had received from Edith.
Various events had kept him from getting past the opening pages until now, but with some unexpected free time, he was finally giving it a proper read.
As Edith had said, the book contained only basic information about demons. It wasn't particularly in-depth, just a brief overview.
"Hm..."
He wasn't without regrets, but Oliver tried to think of it positively.
After all, he had no real knowledge on the subject to begin with, so for a first encounter, this was just about right.
"Still a bit disappointing, though..."
Oliver muttered this as he finished most of the front section.
The opening held a simple explanation of demons, but it was nothing he hadn't heard before.
Demons were wicked beings from hell, corrupting humans and seeking to plague the earth in defiance of the gods.
It was all too predictable, just with different forms.
Of course, that didn't mean there was no new information at all.
Toward the end of the first section, there was a somewhat intriguing passage.
[Hell is home to countless sinners who committed heinous crimes and the demons who dwell there. Ruling this vast hell are seventy-two lords, governed by one holy Demon King.]
One Demon King and seventy-two lords... The specific number sparked his interest intensely.
As ridiculous as it might sound, he felt an odd sense of familiarity toward these beings whose names he didn't even know.
Was it because he had finally obtained a fragment of the knowledge he so desperately sought?
Rubbing his tired eyes, Oliver turned to the next section.
It described the seventy-two lords, but his anticipation quickly turned to disappointment.
The content was extremely shallow.
Most descriptions of the lords didn't even fill a full page, and even those were incomplete.
The readable parts rarely exceeded three lines, and sometimes they were just a word or two.
Everything else was nonsense strings of characters, blank spaces, malicious ink smudges, overlapping text, or letters upside down and backwards.
It was less a book and more a scribble-filled notebook—one that seemed maliciously designed to torment the reader.
The tangled, layered, overwritten script made his head spin and eyes ache just looking at it.
"Hm..."
Even so, Oliver didn't give up. He massaged the bridge of his nose and looked at the book again.
Forrest had told him not to leave the hotel until summoned, so he had to make the most of this time, right?
"Huh?"
Oliver paused at one part.
Wasn't this a relatively intact page?
[50th Lord. The Old Man on Horseback.]
The moment he saw those words, Joseph came to mind.
The moment they fought in the abandoned hospital.
When one side of Joseph's body was blown away, it had appeared.
The old man on horseback. Formed from the merging corpses scattered around.
He remembered it vividly.
Rotted flesh and skulls wove together into a small horse, while arms, legs, and entrails shaped the old man.
An image seared into his brain.
Yet, separately from that, there had been no sense of intimidation. Not that it seemed easy or laughable.
Rather, even now, it felt like a being on a completely different plane where fighting wasn't even possible.
Not simply strong or weak—just from another dimension altogether.
That brought up an obvious question anew.
Why hadn't that being attacked him, even after seeing him? It had clearly made a deal with Joseph.
Far from attacking, it had eased its pressure as if considerate of Oliver, placing a hand over its heart and bowing politely in greeting.
A question he should have asked long ago... Why had it done that?
"Hmm... Quite the polite one, perhaps?"
Muttering a reasonable guess, Oliver read the page below.
By some divine luck, this section was relatively undamaged.
"The 50th lord, the Old Man on Horseback. Originally an angel who fell to hell of his own accord. The reason he chose hell... This part's unreadable. ...Rides a pale horse everywhere, delights in crafting anything. Among them... people? Humans, maybe? Enjoys creating humans, proficient in vast knowledge, and will impart any desired wisdom if asked. In exchange, those who receive his teachings must serve as his eternal slaves after death. Oh..."
Oliver nodded in admiration.
How delightful to find a page he could actually read properly.
And it was intriguing, too.
Even demons enjoyed teaching humans.
Of course, the part about becoming an eternal servant after death was a sticking point, but with the right words, maybe he could negotiate another price for the knowledge.
Wouldn't anything taught by a demon be extraordinary? He felt the need to think seriously about this over time.
'But why did he fall to hell of his own will?'
According to the Pater scriptures, heaven brimmed with all the world's joys, rest, and peace, while hell was shrouded in pitch-black darkness 365 days a year, paradoxically burning eternally in sulfurous flames—a horrific place.
With such a stark difference, why had the Old Man on Horseback chosen hell? The curiosity gnawed at him.
The traces of deliberate erasure only made it more bothersome.
...Maybe he just liked warmth. They say people feel the cold more as they age.
Thud.
Oliver inserted a bookmark and closed the book.
His eyes felt blurry and his head spun from reading so intently.
He had planned to finish it, but the fatigue from the mission hadn't fully lifted.
'That's odd... I feel like I've rested enough.'
Puzzling, but the tiredness was real. He decided to take a short break.
It was lunchtime anyway.
Oliver rose and headed to the hotel restaurant.
Creak.
As Oliver entered the hotel restaurant, a uniformed waiter pushed a serving cart piled high with plates past him.
The waiter bowed his head as he passed, looking quite busy.
"Here for lunch, sir?"
Another waiter approached and addressed Oliver.
"Yes... But what's that?"
Oliver asked, eyeing the food-laden cart.
"Food for downstairs. There's a small gathering."
"A gathering?"
"A friendly get-together for young gentlemen and ladies."
"Ah, I see... I'm here to eat. Any seats?"
"Of course. Right this way."
The server guided him with a smile as natural as breathing and practiced poise.
The restaurant was quieter than usual, allowing Oliver to snag a window seat—the kind people fiercely competed for, even paying extra to reserve.
Lucky, one might say.
Oliver couldn't have cared less.
Pretending to peruse the menu, he ordered something suitable.
"One of this, then, Mr. Finri?"
The waiter, whose name tag read Finri, replied.
"Yes, sir. Please wait just a moment."
The waiter smiled kindly, and Oliver tried to return it. But this attempt failed too.
Even thinking of smiling twisted it awkwardly.
"...Is something wrong, sir?"
The server asked worriedly, noticing Oliver's failed smile.
Oliver shook his head no, and the waiter nodded and left.
A shame. Since arriving at the hotel, he'd been practicing casual chats with staff over meals, but smiling eluded him.
Was it some illness?
"Everything alright? You look disappointed."
A sudden voice, oddly familiar.
He looked up to see a face he recognized.
A beautiful woman with pink hair. None other than Jane.
Edith's illegitimate daughter, whom Oliver had once guarded.
"...Miss?"
At Oliver's curt response, Jane gave a wistful smile.
She sat naturally across from him and spoke.
"Yes, it's me. Long time no see."
"Yes... Long time."
Oliver replied. It really had been.
He hadn't properly seen her face after Edith's tirade, holing up in his room until the protection detail ended.
Since then, he'd been through Martel, the Kell independence forces, and more.
As Oliver reflected, Jane spoke again.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Uh... Probably? Did I do something wrong?"
"No. Just... you're as unique as ever. Most men would say, 'How've you been?', 'You're even prettier now.', 'You've changed a lot.', 'Do you remember me?' or something."
"...Is that the usual etiquette?"
"Mm, probably?"
Oliver nodded slowly at her answer. So that's normal etiquette...
"How have you been?"
"Ha... Yes, well. And you?"
"Me? ...Mm, pretty well, I think."
"Glad to hear it. I worried, with your line of work."
"Thank you."
"Nice cloak. Magician style?"
Jane pointed at the mantle Oliver wore, a gift from Forrest with wide-ranging magic resistance, per the description.
"Something like that... You've changed your style a lot too, miss."
This was sincere.
Jane now looked worlds apart from before.
Back then, with loose hair and an uncomfortable dress, she resembled a typical rich girl from an ad.
Now, her abundant hair was neatly pinned up, and she wore a fitted shirt, vest, and riding pants instead of a dress.
A proactive style one might see among fixers. Yet it highlighted Jane's charms perfectly. She looked far more natural, too.
"Ahem... Does it suit me?"
"I'm no expert on that... But if I must say, it looks ladylike."
"I'll take that as a compliment. Nice seeing you again anyway. What brings you here? Vacation?"
Oliver hesitated, then nodded.
His real reason for staying was security.
The royal matter he'd learned was too grave; they had him stay here as precaution.
Forrest had even given him money and told him not to leave until contacted.
But he couldn't explain that fully, so he just nodded.
"Yes, resting."
"Hmm, I see..."
Jane seemed skeptical. Oliver changed the subject.
"And you, miss? Here on vacation?"
"No, opposite. Here for work."
"Work?"
"Yes, attending that gathering."
She gestured downward.
"Ah, right... What kind?"
"Nothing special. Just a social. Boring and tiring... So I escaped up here for a bit. And ta-da! Ran into you."
"I see."
At his response, Jane's expression flickered with disappointment.
She fidgeted with her hands and spoke.
"...I felt bad not properly saying goodbye last time. Sorry. You protected me to the end."
Oliver shook his head. No big deal. It really wasn't.
"No need to think that. Just doing my job."
"If you say so... That's a relief."
Oddly, despite her words, Jane showed another flash of regret and disappointment. Why?
"......"
"......"
An awkward silence settled. Jane chuckled softly and asked.
"You've changed a lot too."
"Pardon?"
"You used to ask lots of questions when we met. Now suddenly hardly any. Something happen?"
"Ah... Nothing much. Just tired. Was reading a book until now."
"A book? What kind?"
He nearly answered reflexively, but the words caught in his throat.
Couldn't say, "Reading a book on demons from your father."
As he pondered whether to deflect or refuse, his communicator buzzed opportunely.
Beep- Beep- Beep-
Oliver excused himself to Jane and took the call.
Forrest's voice, naturally.
"...Ah, I see. Yes? Me? ...No issue. Yes, understood."
After a brief exchange, Oliver stood.
"Something came up. Have to go."
"What is it?"
"Work-related, hard to say. Nice seeing you."
Oliver gave a formal bow and words, left payment and tip, and departed.
Moments later, the waiter arrived with a steak platter.
"Sir, your food... Huh?"
"He left for work... Didn't even glance my way, like that steak."