The Day After the Verdict: Bilena's Birthday Trial
The next day after the verdict, around noon. A grave atmosphere that didn't match lunchtime. And a dimly lit room with the lights off. Nidroga pulled down the window blinds and lit the candles on the table with her breath. Now, the only light source in this darkness was that tiny flame. Esen, with a solemn expression, pushed a plate with a candle toward Morgan.
"Does the witness swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, goddamn honestly?"
"Whether it rains, snows, or the wind blows, I solemnly swear to speak only the truth."
No judge in any country would include weather talk in a witness oath, but anyway, Morgan placed her hand on her chest and promised. It was almost comical after their explosive fight earlier—Esen and Morgan seemed to get along surprisingly well. Especially when pulling pranks like this. What the hell is this random, bubbly nonsense? I watched in resignation, and Morgan suddenly stood up, pointing at me.
"I accuse this man."
"Of what crime?"
"What charge?"
"He abused the strictly rationed stamina without a word to us!"
"Sneakily saying 'us' is cheeky, but I'll allow it. But with whom, dare I ask?"
"When? Where? Any evidence?"
Esen and Nidroga stared at me like villains in a story, fingers neatly interlaced.
"The accomplice in this embezzlement and lewdness is Bilena Nitro. While the Special Monster Extermination Unit gathered in front of the Handgun Tavern, wondering where the porter was! This guy was rubbing bellies and grinding bodies obscenely with that scrawny thieving cat—"
"I'm Tigress. Refrain from racially sensitive terms."
"Apologies. Correcting to thieving bitch. With that scrawny sperm-stealing bitch!"
The two judges, Esen and Nidroga, nodded. Then they gave thumbs up... and flipped them down.
"Death penalty. Straight to execution."
"Death. He deserves to die."
"...Hold on. Hold on! What the hell are you doing?"
At Monica's words, the chief justice endorsed by Esen and Nidroga, I felt relief... like hell I did. I shot my sister-in-law a desperate plea for help. She snatched the cake plate from Morgan and lit the remaining candles with another match.
"Esen, where are these candles stuck right now?"
"On the birthday cake's frosting."
"Nidroga, what day is today?"
"The day Bilena was born."
"Exactly. This gathering is to celebrate the birthday of our friend and comrade, Bilena. Not to interrogate what happened between Tan and Bilena with some mock trial. Save that for after we sing happy birthday and blow out the candles—"
Like a kindergarten teacher, Monica mediated gently, pointing to the seat where Bilena should have been sitting. Then she turned to the empty chair with a bizarre expression.
"Where's Bilena?"
I coughed uncomfortably and glanced at my sister-in-law. Still begging for rescue with my eyes. I couldn't express more, thanks to the vital spot gripped in blackmail. She pointed under the table in shock. I nodded slowly, careful not to alert the intruder hiding beneath the tablecloth... but Bilena caught on and squeezed, forcing a scream from me.
"Gyaaaaah—!"
"Bilena, Bilena! Let go! Don't do that!"
"Under there! Under the table—! That bitch is stealing right in front of us now—!"
—————
"Thought you wouldn't get caught? Are you insane?"
Bilena, who had slinked under the table the moment the lights went out, had been indulging in my body parts instead of cake frosting on her own birthday. And right before getting busted, she tried to destroy the evidence. I was grateful my manhood wasn't something that detached easily. Esen turned on the lights and glared at Bilena in disbelief. Bilena lifted her chin defiantly, meeting Esen's gaze head-on.
"...Fur on your mouth. Hopeless slut."
Bilena blushed slightly, picked off the curly fur, and took a water bottle from my sister-in-law's narrowed eyes to rinse her mouth.
"Anyway, I win."
"Win what?"
"Just hours ago, I thought I was like the defeated villainess heroine in a novel. Not anymore."
Bilena wrapped her arm around me and pressed close. Her face twisted into a strange expression—like a girl who's never seduced anyone forcing out inner allure.
"Sorry for you all, but I've felt it. The chemistry between the porter and me. Like a planet and star, like a pair of neodymium magnets— an inseparable special bond. Emotions only we two share, that Tan hasn't shown anyone else. So Esen, accept the result gracefully. For your mental health, forget it quick..."
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
Esen glanced at Nidroga. Nidroga smirked knowingly.
"Those novels piled in Bilena's house... usually, they settle on one clear winner snagging the best love interest. Whether male or female lead, as girls' novels tend to."
"...Ah, so you think you've rented him exclusively?"
Esen snickered behind her hand mockingly, and Bilena looked at me confusedly. Her face flushed. Her breath smelled of wine—not just embarrassment.
"Bilena, there's a misunderstanding. I'm not some territory you invade with an army and claim. More like communal pasture where we all graze together."
I rubbed my dry face, fighting despair.
"And after nearly castrating me twice, you call it 'special connection'?"
"...I squeezed from surprise! Even inexperienced, I know that's the vital spot! I didn't grab hard on purpose!"
"Sure, you've read plenty of women's romance novels. Ooh, had some cozy time and you're all hyped? We all did it—me, him, everyone. Dreaming of pure monogamy after a bit of innocent fun? Huh?"
Esen poked and teased Bilena mercilessly. Cornered, Bilena flailed her hands in resistance. Meanwhile, my sister-in-law flinched at the booze scent, spotted Bilena's empty wine glass, and sighed.
"...Bilena, are you drunk?"
"Not drunk! Give me empirical proof you're basing that on—!"
"...You're smashed. Explains hiding under the table thinking you wouldn't get caught. Sorry, Reni, Nenya."
The only ones quietly eating through this mess were the twins at the table. Nenya nodded coldly, but Reni chuckled it off.
"Don't mind us. It's entertaining to watch. Just last year, Esen and Bilena weren't this bright. But seeing them now... a bit scary?"
"Scary?"
"First Esen, Monica. Then Nidroga, Bilena. Even Morgan just declared interest. Who's left untouched? Soon us too?"
"Don't say creepy shit, eat your food, Reni."
"Oh. One more untouched: Islune Sunsstorm, chatting with Captain Tomco now. But at this conquest rate, even the noble Sunsstorm lady will be his maid in a fortnight—"
"Just eat! I'm freaking out, why pile on?!"
Nenya clutched her head and yelled. Meanwhile, Esen pried Bilena off me, dragged her to the floor, and released the exhausted girl from her embrace.
"Yeah. Way too many."
"...So give up? No competing, just scram?"
Bilena teared up, unable to stand from drunkenness. Esen pouted, stroking her head like a pet.
"Why so serious? Follow your heart."
"...That's even more suspicious. If I touched your man without asking, you'd be jealous and pissed, right?"
"Think I'd pick and choose now? Would've clawed Monica's hair from the start. But Reni's got a point. Five's too many too fast."
"Six."
Nidroga hummed casually. The party turned to her in unison.
"Counting the succubus queen too?"
"No way, Esen. Just us humans in this world: you, me, and four more."
The party stared at Nidroga, then whipped to me.
"Who's the sixth?"
"Confess truthfully, prisoner."
"Breeding machine or what?"
"Only dragons and our party on that island. A dragon?"
"No. Sunsstorm retainers and Florica, washed ashore. No way she fell for a near-death patient's frail charm..."
I gazed out the window at the beautiful view. If we weren't sky-high, I could've bailed cleanly. Esen smirked, shoved her hand into my belt, and leaned close as I flinched.
"I'll count to three."
"Won't say a word."
"You know my grip ain't Bilena's fluff. Name her. I'll go easy."
"Even if it bursts, no—"
"Fine, no secrets. I'll say it: Ragnarocha."
Nidroga chuckled. Nenya dropped her spoon. Esen squinted like she'd never heard the name.
"Who's that?"
I bit my lip silently, so Nidroga answered, leaning contentedly by the window.
"My mom."
A horrific silence flooded the room. Esen, feigning anger, turned to me with admiring eyes.
"Tan, are you a god?"
"Me, a god? Idiot maybe."
"From now on, you're the Conquest God. How'd you bed your friend's mom—who owns the whole island, Dragon Lord—in days?"
"...Monica sis—! Potato's lodged whole in Nenya's throat—!"
"Kahk. Kek. Guh—"
"How do you swallow that whole even shocked?! Cough, cough—!"
Reni pounded Nenya's back frantically. Monica rushed pale-faced to Nenya. Once the chaos settled, we sang happy birthday and chatted more normally. I wondered: how long since such a lively, warm meal? Esen and Bilena still growled occasionally, Morgan and sis whispered schemingly, Nenya eyed me with fear over contempt. But at least, nothing like groveling under Adamanthon.
"What? Why's your face suddenly bright? Creepy."
"Nothing."
Esen raised a brow. Midway through claiming dibs on me, preventing my meal with hugs and teasing. I smiled back.
"Just... overflowing joy beyond my station."
—————
The hero opened his eyes. How long since such agony? His body floated in green liquid in a massive tank. His mind drowned in endless torment and anguish. His fate, in misfortune. And his brain, in thought. Immobile from sticky pressure, all he could do was ponder. Legless, unable even to swim, he half-lidded his eyes, drifting in the solution, thinking and thinking.
Where did fate's thread first snag? What sin justified this humiliation? Looking back, things went wrong then...
Porter.
This rare meditation might be his first true reflection on his flaws since birth. But Adamanthon Sunsstorm wasn't rational. Despite countless chances, he'd never been a reliable son, kind neighbor, or law-abiding citizen. By some standards, not even human. Those who knew him would chorus: Something's off. Not human spawn.
Thus, as always, Adamanthon stopped blaming himself. Expertly. Naturally. He jumped to conclusions and brewed hatred.
Porter. The porter's fault. Everything started when he left the party. If he hadn't dared leave. No rare viper bite rotting his balls. Never happened while together. If leaving, should've left his wisdom. Kept the head with precious knowledge, ditched the body. Adamanthon regretted his mercy in letting him live. Recent slumps dropping him from "Party League's Top 100 Promising Heroes"? Porter's fault. He'd have safe, stellar results like before. Raiding untouchable ruins. Long road ahead, much to achieve— what right had a mere porter to abandon a great hero mid-journey? Party shrinking to peanuts? Blame the porter. Members fled one by one, dozens at times, right after his "advice" grated ears...
That guy on Tomco's ship—was it the porter? Yeah. Remember the face, not name. Would've killed sans that beast bitch...
Baseless scapegoating. Ridiculous slander. Cowardly blame-shifting. Someone might say. But Adamanthon never thought that way. Victim-blaming was loser's disease, unknown to the loved and privileged. Thus, "porter failed to support properly" was cold, calculated truth. His siblings wouldn't agree, but Adamanthon was satisfied. And wanted to share.
Half a day awake, first words to the visitor: his honest view.
Gunter Baldenhart blinked.
"First words once you speak: kill porter Tan Bantai? Not Tomco who severed your legs, or dragons who let them rot?"
Sounded like scorn: Scared to blame the strong, bully the weak unrelated? Adamanthon shut it out, eyes bulging on key info.
"His name Bantai? Bantai?!"
Not remembering a years-long comrade's name in a small party. Baldenhart looked stunned again.
"Yes, Bantai. That much hate for a mere porter? Why?"
"Clear crime. Ignored hierarchy, screwed the hero, fled. Like a hound biting master and bolting. Come hell or high water, catch him, hang him post-hunt like a dog!"
"What—"
"On Tomco's ship, should've chopped his neck!"
Misunderstanding arose. If Adamanthon had scrutinized "Ran Bantai" on the ship, he'd scoff: plenty of women resemble Tan. Perception artifacts fooled all equally; he lacked savvy or observation. Mistook lookalike foe for the real deal. Like a broken clock right twice daily. Baldenhart should've considered it. Fools can guess right. But wishful belief isn't Adamanthon alone. Human nature... fathers' pitfall too.
"Had insight to spot that?"
Pausing thoughtfully, Gunter Baldenhart slumped into the chair by the healing tank, sighing. Head out of solution, Adamanthon eyed the bald pate, tempted to boot it like a ball. This guy. Egged me to see Tomco as chum bait.First heal up, kill this bigot bald fuck—wait.
Suddenly, three facts: severed legs won't regrow; dependent on this man for treatment; bald escaped dragon den after epic fiasco, carrying him. Last one terrified. Adamanthon shelved revenge fast.
"Confession time."
"What? I'm straight. Handsome as I am, polite decline—"
"Not that. Years I saw you as failure, despaired. Ancestor's filth in veins, no great heir from my line."
Bending ass to dragon-repelling powerhouse? Adamanthon briefly fretted, then relaxed. Felt insulted anyway.
"What?!"
"But risking life for order. And will continue. True hero."
Adamanthon's violent glare softened to sheepish grin, clueless what praise.
"Ah, thought you fell for ball-fix lies. Real reason: spotted traitor slave ditching lord, vowed punishment despite peril. Noble if so."
"...Yeah. I'm pretty noble."
"'Heroes rule, all obey; humanity ordered, pleasing sight.' True ancient virtue. Mitra, hope flames anew in my old heart."
Baldenhart recited adage, sighing contentedly. Grinned crocodilianly inhuman. Others'd fear; Adamanthon felt familiarity... deep kinship. This guy gets it. My boldness outsiders call reckless...
"Proud of you, Adamanthon. How not? Finally call you: son."
"I'm damn good—wait. What?!"
"Son. Adamanthon Baldenhart. Perhaps my first success."