Chapter 56
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Plan, Goal
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The voice muttered a bunch of strange words, as if distracted by something else, before vanishing.
I underwent an investigation for three days and proved there were no issues.
"...They must have been really suspicious of me."
I naturally muttered to myself, words that had become all too familiar.
My ring finger and pinky fingernails had been ripped out.
It was called an investigation, but it was no different from outright threats.
However, giving in to such intimidation would have labeled me a devil worshiper and gotten me burned at the stake—a fate too obvious to ignore—so I endured.
In truth, the pain of having my nails pulled wasn't all that frightening.
When they pulled out my nails and tried to shove a heated iron rod into the gaps, I have to admit my blood ran cold for a moment, but it seemed like they were just trying to scare me.
They didn't go that far.
It ended with a few punches and the loss of two nails, after which they finally believed my story.
"...It stings."
It wasn't agonizing enough to make me writhe, but the constant prickling was getting on my nerves.
When I finally returned to the capital after another twenty days, someone from the temple came looking for me to discuss the reward for the designated request.
The temple offered two options.
Not both—choose one of the two, so I had to be careful.
The first reward leveraged my unique abilities.
Join the temple and become a heresy inquisitor specializing in jobs like this one.
With the temple vouching for my identity, the title of inquisitor would grant treatment on par with silver-rank adventurers or knights, skyrocketing my status overnight.
The problem was that once affiliated with the temple, there was no escaping it.
Having glimpsed the temple's true colors through this incident, no amount of high status could shake off the unease—it just didn't sit right with me.
The second reward was the most straightforward.
Money.
No need for elaboration—the clearest compensation imaginable.
However, choosing the second meant the temple would claim my deeds as their own achievement, and I'd be bound by a contract to keep silent about the whole affair for life.
About what I'd done.
About the truth of that village.
There was no reason to hesitate.
I had no desire to go around bragging about something like this, nor did I want to boast about committing such a horrific massacre.
The temple handed over 20 gold coins.
Since it was done in secret this time, the hyenas wouldn't come swarming.
The weight of the money in my pouch felt heavy.
Was the price for 153 lives a mere 2 billion? No, 20 gold coins.
The value of life really is... dirt cheap.
Part of me wanted to meet the bereaved families and share even a little, but with the secrecy contract in place, any involvement from me would only make things worse.
Besides, I was the butcher who'd slaughtered their families. What right did I have to approach them pretending to be some good Samaritan?
Just showing my face would reopen wounds and be a nuisance.
I shook my head in self-mockery, but the discomfort gnawed at me endlessly, so in the end, I opted for hypocrisy.
I donated 10 gold coins to a monastery on the outskirts of the capital.
All the children and nuns under the monastery's care came out to thank me.
It only made me feel more uneasy.
I'd done it to ease my own conscience with some charitable cash, and here they were thanking me.
I pretended not to hear their offer of a meal and bolted.
Even after spending half the reward, I still had 10 gold coins left.
I pondered what to do with it for a moment before deciding.
I was still too weak right now.
Being weak meant I kept getting tossed around like this.
So, I needed to get stronger.
I'd originally thought of buying decent armor or a weapon once I had money.
But the clothes and armor from the saint were tougher than most, and Grandpa's sword plus the two sharp blades I was using were top-quality weapons not easily found.
So, neither armor nor weapons were necessary right now.
What, then?
The answer was obvious.
I needed something like the goblin scriptures—a stroke of fortune.
A skillbook.
Thanks to the game system, I could instantly acquire alien abilities if they came in book form.
Not every book would count as a skillbook, of course.
But with money in hand, experimenting couldn't hurt.
"Regular books are all useless, though."
That much was certain.
Even after shelling out for library access and flipping through tons of books, nothing happened—just dull, pretentious drivel.
Which meant...
"Books translated through emotions, like the goblin scriptures?"
The only skillbook I knew was the goblin scriptures, so I had vague info at best. It was frustrating, but if I played it right, this could make me vastly stronger in a short time. So, I resolved to head to the Adventurer's Guild tomorrow.
That was the plan. Now, for the goal.
Rie didn't get mad.
Her attention had shifted elsewhere, leaving only a "Sounds fun" reaction before she disappeared.
She'd likely be distracted by her new character for a while, ignoring this side of things.
I couldn't miss this window of opportunity.
Wasn't this incident itself a result of Rie's sudden meddling?
I had no intention of dying like a dog to her thoughtless whims.
"Raise my Autonomy rank, or get strong enough to withstand Rie's careless swings."
That was the goal.
Ultimately, my deepest wish was to escape this game and tear apart the one who put me in this state. But I couldn't exact revenge without first overcoming the immediate threats in front of me.
With plan and goal set, the rest of the time was for rest.
I hadn't rested properly in ages.
I just wanted one full day to relax without a care.
Maybe from all the recent stress—poor digestion, sleepless nights—my body was screaming in protest.
Arching my back produced a series of cracks, making me feel like my health was shot.
Knock knock.
"...No way..."
I'd just lain down to finally rest, and now someone was knocking?
This was a high-end inn—they didn't allow peddlers.
A few faces came to mind who might visit me.
Shan, the saint, temple folks.
None I could ignore. With a sigh, I dragged my heavy body off the bed and opened the door.
A familiar face flashed into view for a split second before vanishing.
I slammed the door shut with a bang from the other side.
"...Marcel?"
"You crazy bitch! Put some clothes on before you open the door!"
"Oh..."
Right—I'd stripped down to relax from now on.
But...
"What's the big deal? It's not like there's anything to see on this body."
No way she'd get turned on by this scrawny frame.
I glanced impassively at my reflection in the mirror.
Late 130s in height, short limbs.
The worst possible build for a swordsman.
My arms were soft and squishy to the touch.
Despite all my training, not a scrap of muscle gain.
From my barely-there chest, I trailed my fingers softly over my ribs and down to my stomach.
Was my belly button a bit big?
No frame of reference.
My lower belly poked out slightly, but that was from bingeing before entering the room—not fat.
My gaze drifted lower.
At least my hips and pelvis had some shape?
If even those were flat, it'd be a real hassle in every way.
Rie's tastes were... hard for most to accept. If she were a guy, she'd be reported in a heartbeat.
Anyone lusting after a body like this wasn't human—they were monsters that deserved extermination.
"Put some clothes on and come out!"
"...I was just about to rest."
"Hurry up!"
Why was she showing up out of nowhere acting like this? Her voice mixed bewilderment and anger, so I meekly dressed and opened the door. Marcel grabbed my wrist and inspected my fingers.
She stared at the ugly, nail-less digits, her face twisting in a scowl.
"How'd the request go?"
"Same as always—boring as hell. Anyway, come with me."
"Where to?"
"You'll see when we get there!"
Why was she so on edge?
Yawning lazily, I followed her anyway.
We ended up at some underground tavern.
A low-end spot frequented by adventurers. In the center was a stage with five poles stuck in it.
Dancing space, probably.
Not showtime yet—the empty stage stared back blankly. Marcel scanned the room frantically before spotting someone and dragging me over.
There sat the adventurer who'd yanked my nails, nursing a drink.
Marcel planted herself in front of him and glanced back at me.
"This the one?"
"Huh?"
"Your nails."
"You found him quick."
"I had to confirm, or it'd be a hassle if I was wrong. You can head back now."
"...What?"
Before I could ask, Marcel snatched up a beer mug without hesitation and smashed it down on the nail-puller.
Crash!
Glass shattered, drenching the adventurer in beer and blood. He looked up at Marcel more bewildered than pained.
"Ma-Marcel?"
"You bitch, you think I'm a joke? You touch my disciple and figure I won't flip out when I get back? You knew I cherish my people—did I look like a pushover to you?"
"...I-I didn't know! Seriously!"
"Didn't know?"
"Would I have touched her if I knew she was your disciple?!"
"Why'd you touch her at all?"
"Heard a subjugation squad was forming, thought I'd make some cash... then that bitch—er, your disciple—wiped 'em all out! Wasted trip pissed me off, so I vented...!"
"Not even hiding it?"
"...I told the truth—can't you let it slide?"
"Why should I?"
Marcel swung her fist. The nail-puller, who'd been grinning, soon had his face caved in.
"...Oof."
My sleepiness vanished in an instant.