Crabs Stick with Crabs
Meanwhile, there was someone else besides Joseph keeping tabs on the Orlan Count's family situation in this world.
The only other being who had seen what a wretched state she was in, locked away in that room, was none other than Sion Lagrange.
Originally, she had gone with her esteemed uncle, whom she revered, to witness the downfall of the family that had insulted him—the lady of House Lagrange.
"…What an awful sight."
As Sion slowly walked out of the women's dormitory where Alun had been staying, she replayed that shocking encounter in her mind.
No. She couldn't help but think about it, even if she tried not to.
She hadn't said much, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but Alun's burns were so gruesomely thick and pus-ridden!
'She was practically a walking corpse…?'
"Ugh."
Honestly, her mind had gone blank the moment she saw her.
Urk—
…Her appearance was so grotesque that Sion had nearly vomited on the spot.
The festering wounds made her wince just looking at them.
And the lingering smell of the disinfectants she'd desperately applied, hoping for some natural healing… it was so uniquely pungent that it still clung to the tip of Sion's nose.
Unlike her own room, lavishly decorated with silver ornaments, Alun's held nothing but relics of human degradation.
Well, it wasn't entirely unexpected.
She'd sensed something bad had happened, given how Alun had enrolled but never shown up to classes.
What Sion hadn't anticipated was just how far she'd fallen.
So, for Sion—who had been gently nurtured under her father's and his protection, never hardened to such scenes—it was inevitable that she'd think:
…The glimpse of Alun she'd caught today might haunt her dreams.
Swish, swish, swish—
She pulled out her ever-present spider silk fan and waved it.
'I thought I'd hold up fine, but seeing another girl my age like that… it was honestly too shocking. Am I really this weak…?'
Thinking that way, it might have been a blessing she'd visited Alun's dorm with her uncle.
If she'd gone alone, could she have even handled it properly?
She'd have stood there on her two feet to uphold the dignity of House Lagrange, but her hands and feet would have trembled so badly she couldn't move or speak.
From that perspective, her uncle—hers alone—was…
…Heh. Such a man.
Swish-swish-swish—!
Just thinking of Joseph made Sion fan herself faster without realizing it. Unaware of her own actions, she slowly relived the memory.
'We need to save her life first, right?'
'…Uh, how—.'
'To the infirmary, obviously. For someone who's collapsed, time is life.'
'I see…! Is there anything I can do to help, Uncle?'
Even as Sion said that back then, her soul had slipped away in shock. But Joseph didn't bat an eye as he lifted the fallen Alun.
Standing before her with arms so thick they couldn't even fit through the door in one go—boasting that massive, rice-cake pillar build…
"Ugh…. Ufufu……."
Just imagining it made her lips stretch to her ears, as he revealed the hard muscles bulging under his shirt and said!
'Don't worry about a thing, miss.'
Ha. That voice. So low…
'B-but!'
'No buts. I'll handle the ugly stuff myself.'
'Ah, ah….'
Was her uncle doing it on purpose? How could he say something so… lewd…!
He effortlessly lifted Alun, who was much taller than her. And since he was the swordsman who'd slain the Demon King, if he swung his power in earnest, she'd be helpless.
For such a being to speak the world's kindest words and treat her like a delicate lady… how massively that struck Sion as some profound something.
This was different from the emotion she'd felt seeing that strong man—the coachman—crumble pathetically and expose his weakness.
The big picture was the same.
But she called it something because, naturally, Sion didn't know what this feeling was.
Put another way, it was the allure of a mature adult man that her peers couldn't see.
But atop emotions she couldn't even grasp, her uncle didn't wait—he mercilessly piled on another line.
'Oh, and the suit… Sorry for dirtying it. You went out of your way to buy it for me.'
Who cared about some clothes? She could buy him endless more— even pricier ones.
…He'd treasured that one modest gift so much? Enough to check her reaction when it got soiled?
Ha. She'd put in a little effort to impress him all this time.
Looks like it worked…
Heh. Heh…
'Lady Sion, please wait outside with Tiel.'
'Of course…!'
Poof—
Lost in those thoughts, even though she'd come out here at his request, her eyes glazed over and her head felt like a volcano erupting.
I want him…. She always had, but now she wanted him even more…
Uncle. No, what is this man?
She'd never spared a glance for the idiot suitors who'd brushed against her at balls, let alone accepted them—they weren't even in her league.
Why did this one man alone stir such boundless longing in her?
"Get a grip, Sion Lagrange. This is all just worldly desire…."
But Sion didn't want to indulge it so freely either.
Besides her fondness for Joseph, there was another reason she was trying to pull him to her side.
And that was, solely…
"Oh my, isn't that Lady Lagrange, daughter of the Duke?"
…Haa. Better one white than two black.
Sion turned slightly at the sudden voice, sighing at the gaggle of tackily ugly women who'd approached her.
"Lady Rosenberg."
Whatever their business, it surely wasn't anything good.
Because these capital nobles… they hounded her relentlessly, every chance they got.
Without Joseph, she'd have long since stopped coming to school like the other students.
And sure enough, she sneered.
"The Mist Flower Class has been so rowdy lately—I was hoping to chat, but I haven't seen your face all day. I was worried."
"I've been busy."
"Hehe, no wonder. What happened in Mist Flower Class yesterday was truly impressive, wasn't it?"
"…Haa, of course the rumors would spread."
"Yes, and not just anyone—your professor, who seems new to the capital."
Uhuhu—
They were nobles far below Sion's ducal rank, yet they scratched at her nerves without a care.
The intent was clear.
Even though she'd frequented the capital as the Hero Party's escort, calling Joseph "new to the capital" was…
A jab at his shabby looks—like he reeked of the countryside.
For Sion, his sticky tobacco scent and unkempt beard stirred her inner peculiarities.
But to other ladies, it was repulsive, so she'd planned to drag him off under the guise of a makeover. Still, their vulgar taunts were impossible to block.
Crack—
So Sion gritted her teeth, a spark of anger flaring.
"Oh, Lady Rosenberg?"
"Yes?"
"What do you mean my professor is new to the capital? He has the feat of slaying the Demon King. I recall your family's newspaper was the first to report it."
"Oh! That's right. Hohoho… In that case, he's perfect for your class, Lady Sion!"
But Rosenberg fanned herself back undaunted.
"House Lagrange became dukes thanks to the Demon King slaying, and now he's a professor because of it too… You're so lucky. Though he seems a bit distant from capital etiquette."
And what that meant was: Killed the Demon King? Sure, good job.
But so what? The capital's different, you hicks… Your family, Joseph—they've got things they don't deserve.
Something like that.
Of course, saying it so openly would be unthinkable to other ducal houses.
But in the capital's rotten pond, it flew.
Why? Because in this long-standing empire, the provinces and the capital were worlds apart.
No matter how they thrashed in the sticks, the capital didn't care.
The moment you brought provincial feats to boast here, they became the foolish flailing of a country bumpkin, value slashed in an instant.
Even slaying the Demon King and ending the chaos was the same. To these pleasure-seekers watching geese on the lake, who cared how hard those geese paddled beneath the surface?
No matter how arrogantly they crowed, Sion's House Lagrange—a mere baronial family from the provinces—was dismissed as "rootless upstarts playing duke after catching one Demon King."
That was the current reality.
So for Sion, with her immense pride in her house, every slight against Lagrange's status made her feel something shatter in her chest…
Crunch—
…her eyes flickering differently.
"Say that again."
But the moment her voice turned icy,
"Oh my, such a chilling aura, Lady Sion? Did I talk too much…? Don't mind it!"
They'd retreat a step, acting like it was nothing—as always.
And every time, Sion's chest tightened with frustration, an urge to smash something she could barely contain.
That's why she was trying to pull Joseph to her side.
He was attractive, yes—but also to find her lifeline.
To gain the one ally who could truly understand her position of constant belittlement here.
"Don't glare like that… I'm not the Demon King, you know?"
Ohoho—
'Should I kill them? Kill them? Kill them? Kill them…?'
But just as dangerous impulses rose in Sion's heart,
Her gaze suddenly shifted beyond the obnoxious gaggle of ladies. There stood the one her uncle had asked her to watch—Tiel Kelga.
And…
"G-Grand Duchess…."
"Class rep."
"Class rep! Over there…!"
"Mm."
"The Lagrange lady's getting bullied again over there!"
The woman still bound to her wheelchair: Irina Bladimirovich Pernova.
"You lot, come here a moment."
Why was she here?