Chapter 49
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Return
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The Saint had left.
My head was filled with all sorts of thoughts, and for two whole days, I couldn't do a thing.
I wasn't sure how much of the Saint's story I could trust, but he seemed sunk in self-pity.
And he'd looked at me with envy.
I couldn't forget that gaze.
It wasn't all that different from the resentment, jealousy, and inferiority I harbored toward him.
"...I'm pissed."
That was all I could say.
I was angry.
I knew the Saint had his own pains.
But so what?
To me, it just looked like deception.
Thinking my pain outweighed his made that look he gave me all the more repulsive.
Having everything yet complaining about lacking freedom?
Wasn't that just the kind of gripe only someone with everything could afford?
Had he ever truly lived a life of constant agony, where everything felt like his fault, trembling at the thought of death at any moment?
Had he ever felt the fingers pointing at him from all sides, curses and fists flying no matter what he did?
Did he know the feeling that the whole world despised him?
The Saint's complaints sounded like nothing more than a child's tantrum.
Maybe I was the narrow-minded one.
No, I probably was.
Only those who've endured a pain truly understand it.
I had no right to belittle the Saint's suffering, nor should I.
I knew that was the right attitude, the right words—understood it with my head—but my heart wouldn't accept it.
Still, if asked whether that made the Saint my enemy, the answer was no.
He wasn't my enemy.
An annoying existence, sure, but ultimately a victim.
So where should this nauseating emotion of mine be directed?
I already had the answer.
Rie, the streamer tormenting me and the Saint.
But Rie wasn't tormenting us out of malice right now.
That wasn't the root cause.
So what was the root?
Was this world just a mere game? Or had a game system been overlaid on top of the real world?
If there was a true enemy I should oppose, who would it be?
I agonized and pondered, but all that came out in the end was a sigh, leaving me feeling pathetic.
I just didn't have enough information.
Shan approached cautiously.
"What on earth did you two talk about?"
Days had already passed, yet he was only asking now—it seemed even after thinking it over himself, he still couldn't grasp it.
It wasn't strange.
This was something you couldn't truly understand without experiencing it firsthand—no amount of explanation over hundreds of days would make it hit home; it'd be pointless.
"You don't need to know."
It was a rude reply, but Shan, sensing the unusual aura I'd been giving off these past few days, didn't press further.
But it helped.
Hearing another person's voice broke through the thoughts I'd been stewing in alone for two days straight.
Yeah, it's something I can't figure out right now, so no point dwelling on it.
Torturing myself over a question with no answer would just make me look foolish—better to cut it off here.
"Thanks. Sorry for snapping at you."
"...Sudden."
Shan's usual blank expression twisted into mild discomfort, but it didn't feel like dislike.
"Shan."
"What."
"Can we spar? I've slacked off for two days, so my sword feels dull."
"...Sure."
No talent meant my skills were still scraping the bottom, and without talent, I'd forget what I learned in no time.
But it wasn't total trash-level talent where I couldn't do anything at all.
If I scored it intuitively out of 10 as the max, it'd be around 3—low, but there were 0s, 1s, and 2s below me, so I was better off than them.
Even after two days off, with diligent practice, I could regain my feel quickly.
We crossed weapons and sparred.
Time passed like that, and around ten days after we'd arrived here.
The priests came.
Most of the capital's issues had been resolved, the atmosphere still tense but no longer at the point of hanging and burning innocents like ten days ago.
Now that they had some leeway, they could finally execute the plan—return for the strategy meeting, they said.
Hearing that, we began packing to head back to the capital tomorrow.
We grilled and gorged on all the remaining meat, stewed the fruits in sugar and bottled them to take along.
The rabbit hides we'd hunted and hung out to dry in spare moments could fetch a bit of coin when we sold them later.
The next day, early dawn.
We tidied up our lodgings and set off for the capital.
Rain delayed us midway, turning a one-day trip into two.
The gate guards eyed us warily, but a priest came out to greet us, so we entered without issue.
Upon arrival, we dove straight into the meeting.
My next destination was a remote place twenty days' travel away, where an estimated three-digit number of devil worshippers had gathered.
We'd gotten the entry passphrase from a captured devil worshipper before.
The mission: infiltrate with fake identities they'd prepare and gather intel.
No backing out now.
They'd heard everything—if I refused, worst case, they might silence me by force.
"...I'll give it a shot, but I can't guarantee success."
"We understand. It's a tough request."
The priest flashed a kind, amiable smile, but an inexplicable pressure emanated from him.
"...So when do we leave?"
"First, we need time to forge Eliyang's fake identity. Rest this week; we'll contact you next week."
"Got it."
Faking identities didn't seem easy—I nodded, and the priest eyed my clothes before asking.
"By the way, Eliyang, what's with those clothes?"
"...The clothes?"
"An outer garment of Lindwim leather and specially produced fabric... Even with the gold we gave you, this is beyond what you could buy."
"...What, I can't wear something like this?"
"No, it's just suspicious—you're wearing things beyond your means. Where'd you get them?"
The tone subtly demeaned, but the emotion behind it was suspicion and wariness, not mockery.
Wearing something unfit for my station.
They figured I'd stolen it or gotten it from someone.
"......The Saint gave them to me."
No point hiding it—I answered honestly.
Surprised by my reply?
I averted my eyes from their wide-staring gaze.
"The Saint..."
Seemed they accepted it, no further questions, but it soured my mood anyway.
Me wearing it didn't suit, but a gift from the Saint? Fine.
Insulting on multiple levels.
"Then, I'll head out."
"Yes, we'll send word when ready."
"Yeah, sure..."
I replied half-heartedly and left the underground building where I'd been talking with the priest.
Outside, Shan stood guard like a doorkeeper. He looked down at me as I emerged and handed over the two swords I'd left with him.
"They seem to be getting wary of me bit by bit."
"Can't be helped. We spent ten days in peace away from the madness, but they had to handle the chaos firsthand—nerves are frayed."
I knew that.
That's why I hadn't spat curses.
But...
"Still pisses me off."
"Can't argue there."
"Yeah..."
Come to think of it, the roles had reversed.
The priests had accepted me readily at first, wary of Shan.
Our time together hadn't been meaningless.
Shan's wariness toward me had softened a lot, even turning subtly friendly.
"Shan."
"What?"
"Thanks."
"...Huh."
Thinking about it, Shan had resolved a lot for me.
We watched each other warily, but this felt like comrades—too distant for friends, but fitting.
"If this mission goes well, dinner's on me. Something pricey."
"...Booze too?"
"Pricey booze? No."
Food had clear limits on expense.
Booze? Bottles up to 100 gold—endless pricey options.
I shuddered, and Shan gave a faint smile.
"Whoa, you smiled?"
"......No."
It reverted to blank fast, like I'd imagined it, but I hadn't.
"...You smiled."
"...Didn't."
"What, grown man denying a smile like a kid?"
Clinging to the stoic image? If so, it was creepily childish—I stuck out my tongue.
"Eek..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Yeah, whatever...
Even a 30-something could have middle-school syndrome.
I might be too narrow-minded.
Human diversity deserves respect, right?
I was socialized, so I had to understand.
"I'll let it slide."
I patted Shan's back gently, and his face scrunched up fiercely.