Chapter 41
Chapter 41
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: 4. The Most Conscientious Orphan Dealer
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Magic affinities were incredibly diverse and complex, to the point where it took a grand archmage to organize and categorize them all before they could be properly distinguished. For the sake of simplicity, he defined them using short words and classified them accordingly.
The Magic Tower carried on that grand archmage's legacy, taking it as their eternal mission to classify, comprehend, and define wizards' affinities throughout their lives.
However...
The more one delved into these affinities, the more one ended up touching knowledge better left unknown.
In truth, what are called [Curse] affinities are not a single unified type. Curses vary wildly in their effects and characteristics, with no recorded cases of two people awakening the exact same curse ability.
So how did these disparate curses come to be grouped under one affinity?
Because they shared one common trait.
“Ugh... hack... urghhh...!!”
“Father! Father!”
Namely, their mana was dyed as black as pitch.
“What in the world is wrong with Father?! Treat him right now!”
“S-Sorry, Young Lord. We have no idea why he suddenly collapsed...”
“You call that an excuse?! You incompetents! Before I grind you up instead of that orphan bitch, treat him! Do something!!”
That affinity...
Was specialized solely for killing people.
Though [Curse] mana had enveloped the Cornell Viscount family, curses weren't something visible to the eye. They crept up from below, unnoticed by people's gazes, starting from the ankles and slowly engulfing their victims.
Thus, it was no surprise that aside from Viscount Cornell himself—who alone had sensed the [Curse]'s true nature—the Young Lord and everyone else remained unharmed.
In fact, with their focus on the comatose viscount, interest in the cause had waned.
In such a situation, the Young Lord...
“Brother, things seem noisy outside lately. Is something wrong?”
“N-No. Nothing's wrong. Don't worry about it.”
“Is that so?”
Came to visit Karen as usual.
The Young Lord hadn't given up on his father. Quite the opposite—he was doing this to save him.
'I have to process this orphan girl somehow.' This insolent orphan named Karen was a monster with talent that even shocked Viscount Cornell. If he ground her up and fed her to his father, surely that would open his eyes. It was a shame to waste the chance to awaken his own affinity, but it didn't matter much. He could just grind up a few more orphans later. Which made it all the more crucial to grind up Karen. With that in mind, the Young Lord feigned a smile and acted nonchalant in front of her. That was day one.
“You still haven't figured it out?!”
“We apologize. At this point, we can only call the cause unknown...”
“...Drag this incompetent fool off to the underground dungeon. We can't have him blabbing about Father's condition.”
“Y-Young Lord!”
“Shut up!”
Day two.
“W-We just can't figure out his condition. His physical state, mana—everything's normal... so why?”
“Don't give me that bullshit! Treat him!”
“E-Everything's normal! How are we supposed to treat him?!”
“Urgh... hack... kaaaaah!!”
“You call that normal?!?!”
Day three.
“You seem increasingly tired, Brother.”
“...Mind your own business.”
“Really? But if something's troubling you, tell me. We're family, after all.”
One week.
“How many incompetents have we thrown in the underground dungeon?”
“...Seven, including the one just dragged out.”
“Grind them all up.”
“Y-Young Lord? Are you serious?”
“Look at Father. His throat's so raw he can't even scream, and his body's wasting away. I'm squeezing every last bit out of these useless fools who keep insisting everything's 'normal' while doing nothing.”
“........”
“They're all trash who haven't awakened their affinities anyway. Grind them up without hesitation.”
“...Understood.”
Ten days.
“Damn it, damn it! What the hell is wrong?! You there! Fetch the head butler right now!”
“...I-It’s a curse.”
“What?”
“It’s a curse! The family’s cursed! We have to run—now!”
“How dare a lowly servant spout such nonsense...!!”
“We’ll all die if we stay! Run awaaaay!!!”
And then, two weeks passed. Coincidentally, it matched the exact time from when Karen arrived at the Cornell Viscount family until the viscount collapsed. Back then, those days had passed uneventfully. But now, after the same two weeks, the Cornell Viscount family was in ruins.
“No one left unharmed... except me now?” *Cough, cough!* “Yes, Young Lord.”
“Why am I the only one fine? The answer must be there—there has to be an answer...”
“Isn’t it obvious...?”
“What?”
“The culprit... is you.”
“Bullshit!!”
The enraged Young Lord seized the family mage's throat, but the man merely spat black blood and refused to retract his words. With death at his doorstep, he had nothing left to fear.
“What else could explain it?! *Cough!* The viscount and all the family mages collapsed, the servants fled... and you’re the only one left unscathed.”
“........”
“Were you that desperate... for the family...? Filial... traitor...”
The family mage finally slumped, head bowed. As the Young Lord, smeared in the black blood he’d vomited, quietly released his grip, the mage collapsed limply to the floor. And the Young Lord stared at himself with wildly trembling eyes.
“I-It’s really my fault? Really because of me...?”
In truth, such rumors had been circulating quietly for a week. The Young Lord had dismissed them as nonsense since he was innocent, but now, with things this dire, even he couldn’t help doubting himself. Just two weeks ago, when his father first collapsed, the Magic Tower’s affinity analyzer hadn’t reacted. What if he had awakened some strange affinity? What if that was why everyone... Then— “No, Brother. That’s not it.”
“...Huh?”
“You’re still just a half-baked fool who hasn’t awakened any affinity.”
A voice rang out. Until a week ago, he’d heard it every day, but as the family members started collapsing, he’d even put off visiting. Yet it was the voice of that orphan girl who should still be locked in her room. It came with her fiery red hair.
“So don’t worry. You’re not the culprit.”
“Y-Yeah, right? It has to be, right? Yeah!”
The situation looked suspicious no matter who saw it. Walking unscathed through the fallen Cornell Viscount family, emerging alone from a room sealed by magic, and those words just now. Yet the Young Lord, driven to the brink, desperately sought allies. Anyone—anyone—to tell him he wasn’t the culprit. Being the sole survivor amid his father’s collapse and the family’s downfall filled him with unbearable suspicion and anxiety. But now it was fine. He wasn’t the only one left unharmed. That orphan girl was too. So, surely...
“I’m the culprit.”
“...Huh?”
“I caused all of this.”
In that instant... The Young Lord froze, unable to comprehend Karen’s words. Meanwhile, Karen passed him by with leisure, nudging the family mage collapsed and spewing black blood—the mage who had helped grind up her and the other orphans—with her foot.
“Don’t worry. He’s not dead. I was going to kill everyone at first... but I don’t think that’s what Father intended.”
“F-Father...?”
“How ridiculous.” *Twitch.* “Ku... *cough*! *Cough*?!”
“You didn’t really think you survived alone by luck, did you, Brother? I deliberately left you unharmed.”
“Wh-Why...?”
“Because I think I know what Father entrusted to me.”
“........”
“You’re quick on the uptake. And the Father I mean isn’t your father. He’s far, far greater and more magnificent.”
A being far greater and more magnificent than Viscount Cornell. And one capable of orchestrating this. As far as the Young Lord knew, there was only one such person.
“D-Don’t tell me His Excellency the Duke...?” *Crunch.* “Kaaaaah!!!”
“Don’t even utter that cursed name. This all happened because of him in the first place.”
“Wh-What...?”
“Truth be told, I didn’t care much about what you were doing. Physically grinding up orphans, deceiving them with hopes of becoming nobles... It’s cruel and brutal, but that sort of thing happens everywhere.”
“........”
“But Father is incredibly merciful and kind. Willing to sacrifice even for an orphan who’s closed off their heart. So I thought He sent me to stop these evils... but the moment I learned that man was involved, I realized. This is Father’s gift to me—a first step into the future.”
Only then did the Young Lord realize it. Amid the black mana pouring from Karen, as black blood filled his mouth and the truth sank into his bones. She wasn’t some prodigiously talented monster or mere orphan. She was...
“U... uwaaaah...!!”
An endless abyss. A disaster overflowing with hatred and resentment from its bottomless black void. And if she was the calamity spreading [Curse]... What kind of being could inspire such fanatic devotion in eyes brimming with it—the one she reveres as ‘Father’?
“I spared you to get close to that man. The Cornell Viscount family has to become my puppet.”
“P-Puppet...?”
“I debated between you and Viscount Cornell, but the incompetent one seemed easier to handle. So...” *Clap.* As Karen clapped lightly, black, viscous mana overflowed from beneath her feet. The Young Lord instinctively backed away, sensing death, but the black mana targeted not him... But the room’s master, lying on the bed barely clinging to life. Viscount Cornell himself.
“Ah... ah...”
There was no sound. No need for dramatic descriptions of black waves crashing over him. He, writhing in agony, simply vanished into the black pit. And with that, the bed lay empty.
“Now do you know what you have to do, Brother?”
“........” *Thud.* Witnessing his father’s death—without even a corpse left—the Young Lord collapsed, strength drained. Thus welcoming the approaching calamity... death... curse.
“Viscount Cornell is just an example. The rest will return to normal soon enough. You too, Brother.”
“Ah... aah...”
“But anytime—anytime—I want, everyone swallowed by the curse will end up like that. You... wouldn’t want that, right?”
No. He didn’t. Not at all. Revenge for his father’s death? Resentment? Rage? All vanished before overwhelming terror. The Young Lord was too incompetent, too talentless, and too lacking in resolve to face death head-on.
“Maintain your ties with that damned man. Inherit the viscountcy and act like nothing happened. Disguise the viscount’s death as a tragic accident.”
“Y-Yes.”
“Live your daily life, enjoy it. When the time comes, the curse will find you... and we’ll meet again.”
“Y-Yes! Understood!”
“Then let’s write a letter first? With the viscount dead in a ‘tragic accident,’ we have to send the adopted daughter back in this chaotic time.”
“Yes!”
Karen smiled at the fully subjugated Young Lord. It was her first smile since arriving at the Cornell Viscount family.
“Father... I did it.”
A hymn of praise to the Father who had given her this chance, this gift.
A product returned once due to a customer complaint? That’s fine in itself. The Cornell Viscount family didn’t even leave a review, and there’s no issue with the product’s quality. Technically, it’s not a return—it’s a reshipment.
But the family head dying? That’s the problem. There’s absolutely no connection to our 4-Star Orphan, of course, but in this medieval fantasy world, weird rumors can attach to products.
Like haunted mansions or dolls that kill their owners every time they change hands—modern ‘cursed items’ with strange rumors don’t sell well.
This is a 4-Star Orphan, no less. We didn’t have to refund this time, but selling it off was never in doubt.
‘I’ll sell this thing no matter what.’ I stake the Orphanage Director’s honor on it!