Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: No Choice But to Deploy the Protagonist
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No helping it!
Throw in the protagonist!
‘What the hell?
I’m sure she drank it, so why’s she looking so damn fine?’
Viscount Konean was utterly dumbfounded.
It was an aphrodisiac that worked perfectly even on the fairy folk women who handled mana with such skill, and on the beastkin women who excelled in martial arts.
He’d figured that even if those two didn’t end up completely out of it, they’d at least stumble around like they were drunk off their asses.
But as he watched, the woman sitting on the bed wasn’t gazing at him with clouded, drugged eyes. No, her eyes gleamed with a chilling intensity that sent shivers down his spine.
A colorless, odorless aphrodisiac that hardly anyone could detect—had she figured it out?
“Hmm... Master, I smell an unfamiliar woman on you.”
“Rishi, this is...”
“I know everything.
It’s just something that clung to your clothes. You didn’t actually touch her.”
The knight flashed a bright smile, then whipped her head toward Viscount Konean. Her expression turned icy in an instant.
It was so terrifying that the viscount swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.
“If you’d tried pulling that stunt on Master just now, I would’ve lopped that smug head right off your shoulders.
You got lucky.”
Her tone made it clear she knew exactly what he’d been trying to pull.
Lily clicked her tongue, then hauled up all the men who’d been banging their heads on the floor.
“Get out of my sight in three seconds, or I’ll eat every last one of you.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the burly men bolted for the exit.
Viscount Konean couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened to turn his well-trained soldiers into such a pathetic mess.
Thud.
A hand suddenly landed on the viscount’s shoulder.
Sion grinned, throwing an arm around him with exaggerated flair.
“Looks like you were planning something pretty entertaining.”
“Th-that’s...”
“This might make our deal a bit pricier.
You okay with that?”
Viscount Konean glanced around furtively.
One woman who was supposedly a mage but didn’t look the part at all.
And the knight glued to Sion Cloudzen’s side, acting all cute one moment while shooting him cold glares the next.
‘...I’m screwed.’
Screw the deal—if he slipped up, Sion would probably shout to the whole damn neighborhood, “Slave market here! Slave market sighted!”
Then a few days later, the royals would come swinging their iron fists and smash the place to bits.
“Wait, just hold on a second, Young Lord Sion.”
“Got something to say?”
“I admit it was a mistake on my part.
And I apologize.
I’m sorry.
It wasn’t meant as a threat, just a way to instill a little healthy urgency...”
“Instilling urgency means drugging other guys’ women and watching them stagger around like idiots?
Rishi.
Has the definition of ‘urgency’ changed on me when I wasn’t looking?”
“Not as far as I know.”
And with that?
Sion’s expression said it all—what now?
He’d talked all nice up front, then tried to stab them in the back. So depending on whether this bastard showed some real sincerity or not, Sion was debating whether to let it slide or drop the bomb.
“W-we’ll sweeten the pot with whatever you want!”
“Planning to squeeze even more out of me?”
“Absolutely not.
It’s just a gesture of our sincere request...”
Just as Viscount Konean was about to continue, some idiot barged right in.
“Viscount?”
That clueless bastard!
Is he trying to get himself killed? thought Viscount Konean.
But showing any sign of cracking here would just give them more leverage, so he forced his emotions down and opened his mouth with as much composure as he could muster.
“What is it?”
“The merchants just brought in some new stock.
You need to inspect it...”
“Goddammit!
Just handle that yourselves...”
He trailed off, sneaking a peek at Sion.
Sion’s look said, Don’t mind us—carry on with whatever.
‘...Fuck my life.
No choice but to grovel flat now.’
Once he ditched any lingering pride and made up his mind, the words came easy.
“Y-Young Lord Sion.
Is there really nothing else you want?”
“I prefer cash over goods.”
“O-of course we’ll pay the transaction fee too.
All of it! Absolutely!”
The viscount’s polished demeanor from earlier was gone, replaced by a sniveling coward frozen in fear of screwing up.
“But you never know—you might change your mind once you see the new arrivals.
They just came in, so how about we take a look together?”
“What the hell are you saying?
You really wanna die?
Why keep trying to lure my man down shady paths?”
Lily clearly wasn’t thrilled with the situation.
She didn’t want to think Sion was eyeing other women behind her back, but men were creatures who always thought more was better—money, power, women.
“Since Viscount Konean’s begging so earnestly, how can I say no?”
Luckily, Sion seemed to be a man after all.
Just as relief washed over Viscount Konean, Sion dropped another deal that’d make Satan weep.
“But if I follow you to this inspection site or whatever and don’t like a single thing, I might just demand cash equivalent instead.”
“...”
You money-grubbing psycho!
Why’re you so obsessed with coin?!
Cloudzen’s loaded!
Those screams itched at the viscount’s lips.
Sure, they sold slaves to nobles at a premium, but that meant shelling out more to the slavers who supplied them.
Plus, the bribes to the workers here and the few in the castle who knew the secret weren’t cheap.
Pure profit margins were slim, which was why he couldn’t quit this racket. And now this guy shows up preaching “What’s good is good!” while trying to skim off the top.
“Ahaha!
O-of course!
If nothing catches your eye, we’ll swap it out right away!”
The law was far away, the fist close, and the sword even closer.
In the end, Viscount Konean shoved his earlier resolve into some distant corner of his mind and led Sion—now with a terrifying mage and a frosty knight breathing down his neck—to where the fresh stock had just arrived.
“Master.
If that guy tries any funny business again, can I chop him?”
“Let’s see.
Rishi.
You never know, right?”
“What do you mean ‘never know’?
He’s obviously the villain.
I hate guys like him the most.”
The viscount wanted to snap that “villain” didn’t mean the guy standing next to her.
Just months ago, the rumors had painted Sion as the failure of the Cloudzen Margrave Territory, a spoiled brat riding his father’s coattails, a lecher drowning in booze and women, a wastrel playboy.
But in a single month, it’d all flipped.
A man who promised to lead charges up front and cover retreats from the rear—and kept it, diving into hell itself to save stragglers.
A war hero who flung open the gates before an enemy siege, launching a psyop that sapped their will to fight and sent them packing.
‘And that’s not all?
At the royal ball, a few words from him united the nobles, and without even trying, he became the star of the show!
Even caught in the Kashgar rebellion, despite his mana-inept weakness, he didn’t flinch!’
Top-tier lute playing, killer singing voice, and he’d beaten Nudia’s Chess King to boot. It was beyond astonishing—straight-up terrifying.
How does someone hide all that talent, endure the finger-pointing and sneers, and live so quietly?
‘And I thought that was the end of it!
This guy’s insane!’
But turns out he was even more than the rumors.
Barges in out of nowhere demanding a slave market tour.
Flanked by two stunning beauties, so I figure he’s a womanizer—guide him in, and bam, he’s angling to horn in on my business, picking my pockets clean.
Tried gaining the upper hand, but the women he’s got are all monsters—nothing works!
‘Goddammit!’
He wanted to unload a torrent of curses, but he couldn’t even do that.
“Why the long face?
Looks like you bit into something sour.”
“Ahaha!
N-no way.”
“Good.
Your mug was so ugly, I was gonna sand it down for you.”
Was this really the war hero who’d charged into battle to save soldiers? The viscount half-suspected it was some other guy.
This was straight-up neighborhood thug levels of ruthless!
“Getting pretty secluded back here.
You’re not thinking anything weird, are you, Viscount?”
Sion’s fist prodded his side with a jab, forcing Viscount Konean to leap back, waving his hands frantically.
“Absolutely not!
The entrance for deliveries is through the waterway, so it has to be out here in this remote spot.
Ahaha!”
“Why’re you laughing?
That creepy grin’s super suspicious.
Sion, can’t we just bury this guy?”
The so-called mage tagging along was just as brutal.
At this point, the knight endlessly drawing and sheathing her sword with that icy glare seemed the safest bet.
“Long time no see, Viscount.
Who’re the folks behind you...?”
“Just show me the goods already.”
“Ah, yes.
Right away.”
Unlike the stereotypical plump merchant, this slave trader had a lean, sharp build. He yanked off the heavy tarp, revealing the new “merchandise”—four beastkin shackled with mana cuffs, chains, and ropes binding them tight.
“Four in total?”
“Yes.
All beastkin—catkin, specifically.”
“Four catkin at once? That’s a first.”
“We got lucky.
Caught one, and the other three walked right into the trap.”
Viscount Konean glanced back at Sion, then patted the trader’s shoulder approvingly for his hard work.
He told him to wait in the temporary tent—they’d pay top dollar—and pointed to a catkin girl barely twitching her fingers and toes, fully subdued.
“Ahem.
The catkin we saw earlier was too docile for my taste.
But these fresh catches...”
Clank, clank!
Grrrrr!
Mana-suppressing cuffs, chains, ropes in double and triple layers—she couldn’t move an inch, had a gag stuffed in her mouth, and still this catkin woman snarled ferociously.
The killing intent in her eyes was so thick, if those bonds snapped, she’d shred Viscount Konean into dozens of pieces on the spot.
“Hm?
This one looks kinda young.”
Clank!
Hiss!
Kyaa!
Kyaargh!
As if she’d forgotten the gag, the viscount snatched up one catkin girl, and the other three erupted in a cacophony of shrieks.
Impressive fury, but he was used to it by now. Expression unchanged, he dragged the girl over by her bonds and dumped her at Sion’s feet.
“For reference, juvenile catkin are pretty rare.
They go for about 500 gold coins.”
“Something that jacks up the price that high?”
“At first, they resist like any beastkin—fun to break in.
But coax ’em right, and they keep that kittenish loyalty.
Pleasure in training, joy in molding them soft and supple—perfect product, right?”
“...”
Even when he talked, Viscount Konean always veered into creepy territory.
Should I just cut ties with this creep? Sion wondered briefly.
But they’d come this far, and the guy was flat on his belly offering whatever—so take all he could get.
Sion nodded, and Viscount Konean mistook it for approval, slipping into sycophantic mode with a sleazy heh-heh.
Careful not to get bitten despite the gag, he gingerly lifted the catkin girl’s chin.
“What do you think?
Haven’t done the full appraisal yet, but I’d stake my rep this is upper-grade at minimum.”
“You sure?
If you’re peddling unvetted trash, I’ll be pretty pissed.
Pissed enough to be disappointed in you, Viscount.”
Straight-up extortion now.
But what could he do? Justice was distant; fists and blades were near.
“I stake my honor on it.”
“...”
Honor? What the fuck kind of honor?
Does “honor” mean something else in this world?
Now this was fun—tormenting him properly. Sion decided to let it slide for now and eyed the catkin girl the viscount was hawking so desperately.
Pale blue hair, sparkling golden eyes, sharp features with a youthful cuteness that promised real beauty once grown.
‘Yeah, top-shelf for the pedo crowd.’
Too young for his tastes, unfortunately.
It’s decent, but not my type—how about cash instead? He was about to say.
‘...Huh?’
But then he spotted the lightning-shaped scar on the catkin girl’s forehead—and froze solid.
‘...You’ve gotta be shitting me!’