Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Netori or Die—Choose Now
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"What?"
The sleazy little shit looked like he thought I'd lost my mind, but the two burly goons seemed genuinely spooked. Probably because my attitude was way too confident.
They must figure I've got something up my sleeve.
"Young master…."
"Ah, whatever!"
Seeing the brute call out cautiously only for the brat to snap back made me want to bash all three of them.
"This is pissing me off. Hey! You a noble too? Got a title?"
"......"
You too, huh.
This little shit was a noble, apparently.
"Ah, fuck. What kind of idiot noble doesn't know his place and starts shit like this? You know who my dad is?"
"No idea. And I don't have a title."
"So you're a commoner, then?"
His face shifted from slight unease to that lowlife sadistic glee in an instant.
The two brutes regained their cocky swagger too—though one still looked uneasy.
Makes sense. In this fantasy world,
where one guy could take on ten thousand, who'd fuck around without knowing who I was?
The uneasy one had a brain rattling around in his skull.
"You're insane, commoner. Do you know who I am?"
"Dunno. One of the top ten houses?"
"What? Top ten houses? Where'd a lowly scum like you pick that up...? How dare you even mention those exalted houses?"
"......"
"People like you don't get to speak their names. Got it?"
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Whew.
I let out a breath. Relax. Stay calm, Yedre.
"Oh? A sigh?"
The sleazy brat's patience hit its limit, and he smacked the brute beside him.
It was the one who'd hesitated earlier, and he thumped his buddy's back in turn.
"Ah, why, boss?"
"Shut up and you go."
"You're such a scaredy-cat…."
Less a brute and more a pig, he lumbered forward with a menacing swagger.
"Hey. Where ya think you are, fresh outta some brawl?"
Thud!
Mid-sentence, the pig hit the deck.
I'd just aimed a casual greeting jab at his jaw, but I didn't expect him to eat it so clean.
...No need to even draw my sword?
He was way weaker than I'd thought—shockingly so.
"What! You bastard!"
The careful brute, trying to hold back his raging buddy over the downed pig, was sweating bullets.
"Wh-who are you?"
"And who the hell are you lot, causing a scene in someone else's stable?"
"We're… customers."
Yeah, customers alright. Entitled asshole customers.
"Customers get a free pass for anything? This violence has gone too far…."
"Kah! Ptoo!"
"......"
I dodged the spit aimed at my face.
The brat had launched it, and the kid—looking like an upper elementary grader now—hawked it with pro-level flair. Lots of practice, clearly.
"Know your place, you filthy commoner."
"Is that so."
"Yeah! Those horses, they scratched up at my words! That's a crime worthy of death a hundred times over!"
Scratched from words? Not like they died or anything—what's with the hundred deaths bullshit?
I turned to the stable kid watching the scene with a tense face.
"That true?"
"N-no! We treated the customers' horses with the utmost care! We did our absolute best to keep them comfortable…."
"Shut your trap?!"
The girl didn't flinch at the brat's yell—instead, her eyes flashed fierce.
Oho… she's got guts.
"How dare a lowly wretch glare like that?!"
She lunged, but I stepped in to block.
The brat glared at me venomously.
"So. You hit people over horses? Not very noble behavior for exalted lords."
"This guy's still—!"
The careful brute rushed up and whispered urgently in the brat's ear as he spasmed.
The kid scowled, listening, then trembled and slap! backhanded the brute.
Tough gig.
"Whew. Hey. You know what this stable is for?"
"No clue."
Sudden shift to chit-chat—the careful brute must've warned him it was risky.
Appreciating the effort, I played along.
"It's for managing racehorses. The racetrack owner is my father's subordinate."
"And?"
"And! Horses owned by my superior's boss deserve extra care, don't they?! Look! The scratch on my precious horse's brand!!"
"......"
Not even on the horse's body—a ding on the brand. Take it to a repair shop or something.
"Whew. Now you get it? They committed a grave crime, but I'm mercifully offering one proposal. One that isn't bad for them either."
At that, the downed stable owner bolted upright.
"Bullshit! Hand over my daughter as a servant?! I know all about your filthy Sertun family rumors. Why the hell would I do that just to 'apologize' for something I didn't do?!"
The owner's cough-racked shout chilled the brat's face.
My expression cooled too.
"Hey. Shut that guy up."
"Y-young master…."
"My words not clear?! I'll tell Dad!"
"......"
The careful brute—clearly thinking what a shitty kid—closed in with his buddy anyway.
"Hey, mister. Dunno if you're some big shot, but let's end this nice and easy. Our young master's dad, my employer, he's got real pull. Whoa!"
The careful brute dodged my fist.
Not bad?
I swung through and cracked the other brute—still huffing beside him—right between the eyes.
He didn't even see my fist before dropping to his knees; I stomped his face with my knee. Crack! Bone shattered, blood sprayed.
"Grrraaagh...!"
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The brute rolled on the ground, clutching his ruined face.
I held off knocking him out—let him savor the pain.
"W-wait, hold up! Mister! Urk! Urk!"
Thud! Thud!
The careful brute had some skill, at least.
Even my casual swings, he blocked what he saw.
"I-I'm a former infighter, y'know! This ain't nothin'—"
Thud.
"This ain't nothin'," my ass. That pissed me off.
I threw a proper punch; the careful brute didn't register it and crumpled.
Then I turned to the brat.
"You filthy scum! Kneel right now?!"
Even in this state, the kid screeched without grasping reality. I strode toward him.
"Oh? Oh? Won't kneel? Won't kneel? If you do it now, I'll just make it hurt a bit before killing you…."
He didn't finish.
Whack!
My palm slammed his occiput hard.
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"Kwe-eek!"
His face bulged like a frog's eyes might pop out.
"Ungainly screech for a noble. Thought you were a frog."
"B-bast... Kwe-eek!"
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This one really hurt; he clutched his head, trembling, then snapped it up.
Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked ready to charge and kill me.
Go ahead, die.
"You dog... Ack! Aaaack!"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
I hammered his occiput silently—hard enough to hurt like hell, but not knock him out.
Ignored his reactions. Kept going.
Soon, the brat burst into sobs.
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"Eek! Ack! Hic, eek. Waaah! D-Dad... Hng!"
Whack! Whack! Crack! Thud!
"Daaaad... Hic. Hng! Ack! Waaang... Ack!"
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I ramped up the force with each cry, pounding relentlessly.
It worked.
Even a retarded kid learns eventually—he realized crying made it worse, so he trembled and choked back sobs.
Whack! Whack!
Still annoying, so two more for good measure, then I stopped.
The arrogant prick from before was gone; now he was just a shivering ordinary kid.
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"Ready to talk now?"
"P-please spare me."
"......"
"I-I'm sorry…."
I knelt to eye level.
Grabbed his hair, forced his gaze to mine.
"...!"
"So. Boss. What happens to the servants this shit wanted?"
The still-grimacing stable owner fell silent, then spoke darkly.
"You shouldn't have gotten involved…. Might've satisfied your petty sense of justice, but now we're all dead."
"......"
"That kid's dad is one of Milf Village's managers. He's a count. Not bluffing—he's got real power."
"What happens?"
I pressed the earlier question.
"......Dunno exactly, but no one's come out of that mansion after going in. And that kid's got a rep for lechery despite his age."
Whack!
"Ack!"
I punched his cheek in rage. Kid not even old enough for blood to crust his skull yet, already into that shit.
Blood trickled from the brat's mouth—pathetic? Nah, fucking satisfying.
"Guess we'll have to leave now. Or maybe we can't… but better than watching your daughter get taken wide-eyed."
"......"
"I misspoke earlier. Whoever you are, thanks."
He spoke like we were total strangers.
He didn't recognize me.
Maybe 'cause I was cleaned up nice, but probably the favor I'd done him was so routine it meant nothing.
"Evil for evil, good for good…."
I muttered, yanking the noble kid up by the hair.
"Ow ow ow ow ow!"
"Shut it. Wanna die?"
"......"
He clamped his mouth at the sincerity in my blunt tone.
I kicked the careful brute's gut as he lay there.
"Guh!"
"I know you're awake. Get up and lead the way."
The careful brute rose with a ridiculous look, peeking at me cautiously.
"Wh-where to?"
"Your family home."
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Sertun Count family mansion entrance.
A knight stood smack in the doorway, staring at the sky.
Knight Mail of the Sertun Counts was sick of this life.
He'd figured serving Sertun Count—a key figure in Milf Village—would mean sweet perks.
But this? Better off as a free knight.
'Kissing up to that little shit is exhausting.'
His job: managing the count's sole son, Reg Sertun.
The count talked big about keeping the kid straight but reamed out any subordinate who so much as scolded him over petty shit.
The kid—barely eleven—had a thing for girls already, and thinking of that flabby face made Mail's blood boil.
Plus, he abused servants so badly they were always bruised; when Mail's men disciplined them, the count didn't scold his son—instead, he locked his men in the basement for "unbefitting conduct" till wounds healed.
'Who's the one making them unbecoming? Sigh.'
Knight treatment sucked too.
Mail was skilled, yet barely scraped average pay—no perks.
He'd bolt if something better came up, but Sertun had a vindictive streak—sabotaged ex-knights' careers.
If Mail reached some legendary realm everyone admired, Sertun wouldn't dare touch him… but he was good, not that good.
Even top places like Prynar Academy might protect him….
'Man, I wanna go to Prynar Academy.'
It was a launchpad to success.
Luxury facilities, eye-candy beauties—just imagining made him grin.
Sure, no noble connections, but their retainers were spec'd out and hot as hell.
Luck out, hook up with one; worst case, Academy creds open doors anywhere.
'Heard some Outsider here just got Prynar student/instructor quals.'
First Outsider male in Prynar.
Rumors said he beat a dragon.
Where there's smoke… but a dragon? In Milf Village?
'Beating Lady Yulis seems legit, though… If he's really an instructor, he'll need retainers. Maybe ask to join?'
Rumors painted him feral.
But acquaintances said he was fine normally—just nasty when pissed.
Mail figured he could avoid pissing him off.
He'd survived Sertun; piece of cake.
Lately, the mansion buzzed with uneasy rumors—all tied to that Outsider.
'Bandits and Kiss Merchant tied up, crime syndicates or whatever.'
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The village's rotten tumors were being carved out.
Gossip everywhere.
Unlike the savage rep, he seemed righteous.
'Count's sweating means he's tangled in that shit, right? Ugh.'
Mail wasn't some justice crusader, but he had basic sense.
How'd he end up here?
The count looked dignified, promised good treatment—Mail got duped.
His lifeline? That Outsider.
Day off day after tomorrow—maybe track him down.
He kinda knew the face from old wanted posters during that scam fiasco.
'Sertun rep's toxic; might not even meet. Aw… Huh?'
Then Mail spotted the young master approaching from afar.
No shitty mercs; kid shuffled alone, looking off.
'Tear tracks?!'
Mail cursed inwardly.
Rushing to the young master, Mail assessed him.
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"Young master Reg."
"Mail…."
"...Haa."
Headache incoming.
'Knew this little shit would pull something someday!'
No one attacked a count's heir lightly, but hotheads existed.
No cautious mercs either—must've hit a real opponent.
"Young master! I told you—stop recruiting servants in the village!"
"Wh-what?!"
Reg's eyes flashed, expecting concern first.
"Hey, you bastard! Shouldn't you worry about your master first?!"
"Speaking of—don't you pity those servants you grabbed? Release them, get your head straight. That's why you come back beat up."
Beat up. Reg froze like he'd swallowed ice.
Huh? What? Mail tilted his head—but seized the chance.
"Time to go straight. Our rep's bad enough already…."
"You! I'll tell Dad!"
Again with this crap. Mail sighed inwardly.
"No backtalk."
Why's the kid acting weird? He closed in, whispering—Mail got chills.
Pig-faced brat too close up.
"Arrogant Outsider behind me now. Call all knights and…."
"Sounds good."
Reg froze solid mid-whisper.
As he slowly turned, a fist flew at his occiput.
Whack!
"Aaaack!"
'Gah?!'
Who the fuck smacks a noble heir's head?
Mail'd fantasized it thousands of times, but actually doing it? Who?
He looked up at the guy.
Then Mail froze too.
'That face… definitely...!'
"You're a normal guy."
He spoke, ignoring Mail's reaction.
His battered merc stood by politely, hands clasped.
"You, out."
"P-pardon?"
"From now on, this place… What's the family name?"
"Se-Sertun, sir."
The Outsider—Yedre—nodded satisfied.
"Today, House Sertun gets wiped out."
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El met the Grice family vanguard come to fetch her—and made a request.
Make the return trip to the capital as flashy and comfy as possible.
Seeing the leaders glare at Flat as they left, they figured it was for him.
Flat was puzzled.
El had always felt sorry toward her family, saying if she ever returned, do it quietly.
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That same El was grinning ear to ear.
Thinking of that person's condition made her heart ache, but the fun stuff they'd do en route to the capital had her blooming with smiles.
"Capital after so long. Right, El?"
Flat ventured, face a bit awkward.
"Yeah~ Totally~"
El answered vaguely, humming a tune without realizing her curt reply….
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