Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: My Morality
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I'm a man who fits right in with the forest and nature.
But that's only because I dress like some savage, and whenever I think a splash of alcohol might help with camouflage, I scavenge and guzzle whatever's around.
Maybe that's why I was fertilizing nature right now.
With my mouth.
"Mister, you sure you're okay?"
"Ugh... urk..."
"Should we take a break?"
"Only a little left... let's just... go."
The marvel of science, this rock-steady carriage, packed a vicious punch.
Riding in a bumpy old cart never made me seasick, but this? This was nausea on steroids.
To minimize the motion sickness, I'd planted myself right next to the coachman.
The imperial family is one terrifying bunch.
They had a knack for piercing right through a man's weaknesses.
I was rediscovering a vulnerability I hadn't even known about: the peril of luxury carriages. My gaze shifted to the coachman.
"If you're gonna hurl, do it off the side like before."
"Can't you drive it smoother, less sickening?"
"...You're the first rider in this carriage to get motion sick, so I wouldn't know."
"How much longer?"
"A shade under three hours. Lean back and nap, maybe."
Spouting lines like some drunken uncle, I pressed on toward the Elisia Family manor.
There must be a reason Aster wielded ice magic. The place was damn cold.
And as the carriage rolled, the forest blurring past was dark, crammed with trees tinged in deep reds.
Less fresh and vibrant, more raw wilderness. I forced down a sip of liquor, trying to appreciate the grand vista despite myself.
If not for the nausea, I'd have climbed atop for some poetic romance.
"Why drink booze if you're already seasick...?"
Honestly, it was addiction. I blamed that wine I'd swiped from the princess last time.
It tasted good despite being booze, delivering luxury to a cheap-tongued slob like me.
Lately, booze flavors felt renewed, pulling me deeper into the habit.
Not just alcohol dependency, either—I figured it'd knock me out for the three-hour haul, since I doubted I'd last otherwise.
But this bottle? Fiery stuff that chased sleep away instead. I regretted my choice hard.
"There it is."
"Uuu... urk."
I forcibly changed the subject, replying to the coachman—who was trying to cure my sickness—with a gag.
Lifting my head, I saw he was right: a pretty decent manor came into view.
The Elisia Family manor.
I was finally stepping into my lady's domain.
But my thoughts? Not on whether Aster's plan would pan out smoothly.
I just wanted to bolt from here on foot.
This imperial contraption was pure evil.
After what felt like the toughest stretch of my life, I finally reunited with solid ground in front of the manor.
The carriage peeled out without a word, leaving a twinge of loneliness, but the coachman had endured my drunken ramblings the whole trip—no hard feelings.
"Kuhhh... ah."
Once my feet hit dirt, only mild fatigue and a buzz remained. Stretching made it worse.
I shook off the daze, glued myself to Aster's side, and headed for the manor.
A noble lady by title, yet no one at the entrance—not servants, not even a lounging gardener—showed her any respect.
Her brother had apparently summoned a demon ages ago, brainwashing the whole household.
"Once the plan works... we fire the lot of 'em."
"......Yes!"
I told the deflated Aster—who seemed ashamed of her own outburst—giving her a boost.
She straightened up a bit, and we crossed the garden.
What the hell?
Then, a man strolling from beyond the garden suddenly blocked my path.
I'd spotted him lounging by the garden edge, sword propped nearby—chill vibes.
"You there, hold up... Who are you, waltzing in here dressed like a beggar?"
Slitted eyes stretched long, clothes flashy to excess. Men's attire, yet more opulent than the princess's.
I wondered if he was Aster's brother, glancing at her. She looked clueless too.
"And who are you?"
"Allow me to introduce myself... I'm Sven, the knight Sir Pablo bought in with extra coin. Might you be Lady Pablo's little sister?"
"Yes. And this is my knight. So, ease up on the rudeness?"
"Knight, huh..."
Pablo was Aster's brother's name.
The kin tied to that demon business.
Sven was the knight Pablo had bought with cash.
Pablo's got no eye for people.
I clocked instantly he'd hired a weirdo.
That slimy, grating speech for starters, and his intro screamed self-importance.
Who asked your price tag?
Sven's ego ballooned huge. He'd been strutting since we met.
I stared him down, admiring his personality in the most critical way.
Then Sven spoke.
"Ugh, booze stench... A knight should at least mind his appearance, no? How's a lady safe if you pass out drunk?"
He flexed subtly.
Utterly absurd, and his haughty tone so obvious, I chuckled.
"What... can you even swing a sword in duds like that?"
"Pfft, khm."
Aster burst out laughing at my jab—hook, line, sinker.
The air iced over instantly.
If I push further, will he draw?
I wasn't bold enough to test it aloud from fear, but Sven looked corseted. Waist too narrow and rigid for a man, ribs jutting oddly with each breath.
"......"
Visibly pissed at my point, Sven glared daggers for ages.
Aster shot him a trash-can stare, grabbed me, and dragged me off. I savored his gaze till then.
Not into guys' stares by nature, but extenuating circumstances.
When else would I get fury from a corseted man?
Trotting after Aster, I reported: that guy was no ordinary punk.
"Saying that 'cause he's strong?"
"Dunno about skill, but scary as hell."
"Uncle's scared too...?"
"That? Kinda terrifying."
His hesitant steps screamed awkward gait—insoles, I figured. Not sky-high, so a practical compromise.
Anyway, he didn't pursue, and I entered the Elisia manor.
As expected, servants shot Aster and me dirty looks, then went indifferent.
Hmm.
Opulence everywhere, I tsked at the massive mystery stag statue smack in the hall's center.
"That... first thing I smash if I become family head."
"Yeah, I'll handle the dumping."
I'd expected awkwardness entering a manor after ronin life.
But Sven's antics killed all tension. Buzzed and museum-wandering, I strolled casually.
Then, a yell echoed.
Plates shattering too.
Someone hurling dishes in rage.
"Aster, your brother's a temper tantrum king?"
"Yes. Majorly."
"Sounds like... fourth floor plate-throwing."
Not superhuman ears—just picking non-peaceful noise amid daily din.
Aster perked up, hearing it too.
"The seal reacts closer to the contractor, right?"
"Yes. Near the demon or contractor."
"So, barge up now, flash the seal as proof, flip the whole table?"
I figured wrapping it quick.
But Aster nixed it for two reasons.
"Our carriage got here too fast—bishop hasn't arrived yet..."
First: church muscle to bust demon worshipers wasn't here.
My sickness slowed us, sure.
No allies in the manor now.
Stirring trouble just exposes our hand. They'd beg the demon for countermeasures the second we tip our mitt.
Plus, Aster added:
"That trash didn't contract the demon himself anyway."
"...?"
I furrowed at the nonsense.
Then Aster dropped a vile tale.
"Somewhere in this building... uh... a kid around ten, locked up."
Pablo'd gaslit a child into contracting instead.
Kid imprisoned somewhere vast in the manor.
Demon pacts being creepy, he'd rounded up orphans as proxies.
Crazy bastard.
I raged at nobles living this trashy.
World has lines. Don't touch kids.
Demon plus noble? Pure horror.
As I quietly fumed, Aster spoke.
"Can't even offer a proper meal, but... a favor first?"
"Name it."
"Can't roam this place carefree, so..."
I guessed the ask, nodding slow.
And it was this:
"The room with that kid... can you find it, Uncle...?"
Infiltrate, rescue noble-captive child.
Hand to church when bishop arrives.
I nodded without hesitation.
Night deepened. I swapped to pitch-black stealth gear.
For sneaking, I picked low-odor booze, sipped, and prowled.
Aster'd pre-mapped manor layout, likely kid-rooms.
And wandering, I got why she'd tasked me—and shunned roaming.
Not zombies, but...
Servants shambling deep-night halls with dead eyes.
Demon effect? Any normie'd get nabbed quick.
I muffled steps, timing their patrols and sightlines.
Slowly checked rooms.
Seal from Aster in hand, I paused at her listed spots, testing it.
Near full circuit, last room ahead.
Hm?
Last: servants' quarters down, basement stairs to first-floor small storage.
At the door, odd noise—ear to wood.
- Eat it quick, you little...
...?
Slap sounds, vulgar curses floating.
I pondered, then entered.
Toward noise: shoved blank wall. It swung open, secret space.
Crawling in hunched:
"Fuck. Why do I gotta handle this shit."
Man: swollen red cheek, bloodshot eyes, drunk, bloody hands.
Mouth crusted food-puke mix. Eyes streamed helpless tears.
Our eyes met briefly.
Cheeks gaunt for his age. No baby fat.
"Haa... novels and reality, worlds apart."
"Wait, you... who the—!"
I considered backlash, but screw it—fist to his face.
Honor? Mine's what I stand by morally.
From now, I'd answer to my honor.
"Grk, gah!"
Nose shattered instant, he tumbled back.
No scream—my foot pinned his throat.
"Was gonna ask about the manor anyway."
I dialed force carefully.
Why? Sigh. Why.
Seal showed zilch.
This kid wasn't the contractor.
Meaning at least one more like him.
Deep breath. I spoke.
"Gonna yank teeth, smash everything."
Lots to uncover here.
"Arms first."
Buzz fled. Sobering night after ages.