I Raised My Disciple All Wrong

Fortunately, I won the battle on the bed. A pubescent boy's vigor, and the strength in his hips, went beyond anything I had imagined. Not even the Swordmaster Grand Duchess of the North could outlast a puberty vicious enough to chew through stone—and the proof was Elena herself, utterly spent and sleeping like the dead.

Once I was sure she was fully under, I rose from the bed. Time to go.

There was no protagonist. That didn't make sense. The protagonist had to be out there somewhere—only he was somewhere even the Grand Duchess of the North's intelligence couldn't reach. Which meant I had to find him myself, and I had to learn what he was trying to do. It was a job only I could do. I was the only one who knew the original story.

And for that—I get out of here.

I had to slip her confinement. I looked at Elena's sleeping face, pressed a light kiss to her pale cheek, and turned away. It was time to leave.

Ugh. My back.

I clutched my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lower back. I'd overdone it all night just to put her to sleep, and now I was paying for it. Truly, moderation in all things.

I left the bedroom, threw on my clothes, and belted a ceremonial sword at my waist. It was an edgeless ornamental blade, but better than nothing. Wrap it in Aura and the cutting power is the same whether there's an edge or not.

Aura. Honestly.

Sword Expert. Aura. How fundamentally hollow a setting was this? The game was this kind of mass-produced medieval fantasy because the original had been that kind of mass-produced medieval-fantasy web novel. Of course, by the world's own lore this was five hundred years after that novel, so it barely had anything to do with the original. Then why adapt it into a game at all? The studio must have bought the IP because it was cheap. No question.

"Good morning, my lord."

A maid addressed me as I strode on without slowing.

"Where are you headed?"

She didn't so much as blink at the sight of me grown young overnight. She looked like an ordinary maid, but her skill was that of a Sword User—one of the jailers assigned to escort me and watch me both. Now that Elena had put me through Return to Youth, she had surely briefed the maids as well.

And not only this one. Every steward, every servant, every maid in the estate was at least a Sword User. No—in this Winter Palace, the only man was me. That alone told me just how badly Elena wanted me locked away.

A prison without bars. Might as well call it what it is.

Confinement sex. The original wasn't even an adult game, so why was I stuck living through an event this absurd? If the protagonist were simply fine, I could have stayed put. Damn that protagonist. Where the hell did he go?

"……I feel like a walk in the rear garden."

"I shall attend you."

The maid said it at once. I'd known she would. Their real work wasn't housework. It was watching me. There would be hidden eyes in the garden anyway, but an obvious tail would be a nuisance to shake. I had to peel them off.

I looked at her and said, "Lena's asleep, because I spoiled her thoroughly last night. When she wakes, I intend to spoil her again—this time in the rear garden. Heh. A naked stroll with my adorable disciple wouldn't be so bad, would it? You're still going to follow? I wouldn't mind that, either."

At times like this, Elena was the excuse to use. They might stand up to anything else, but they couldn't so much as twitch against her. Lena was Elena's nickname. Now that her entire direct family was gone, I was the only one left who could call her that. What I'd really asked was whether she meant to watch her superior in bed with her own eyes, seeing as I was about to indulge in a little outdoor play.

Well. This wasn't the first time, or the second. I'd deliberately played with Elena all over the palace just to map its layout. The rear garden, once or twice as well. Thanks to the sex, I knew every corner of this detached palace, and they understood perfectly well what my behavior meant.

At my smile—pure pervert, and entirely an act—the maid's face went red.

"……No. I must decline."

"When Lena wakes, tell her to come to the rear garden. And have her wash up properly first. Until then, I'll enjoy the view."

"I shall convey it."

After a brief silence, the maid bowed her head. Witness her highest superior's that? She didn't have the guts. I'd succeeded in dismissing the maid—no, the jailer.

To think I have to stoop to an excuse this cheap.

But if I wanted out, there was no helping it.

I walked the corridor and reached the rear garden. The detached palace holding me was called the Spring Annex, the largest of all the annexes in the Winter Palace. The rear garden in particular was famous. A magical barrier shut out the cold air from outside, making a kind of magical greenhouse, and into it they had planted rare flowers and strange herbs that could never grow in a northern climate.

I stepped out. Warm air, nothing like the North, came to meet me. There were palm trees you'd only expect to see in the tropics, an artificial stream running the length of the garden, and an artificial mountain piled from bizarre rocks. And beyond the magical barrier, snow went howling past. The final boss of setting money on fire.

The garden was famous in the game as a farming spot, too, because high-grade herbs and magical plants grew here. Pretending to look around, I extended my ki sense and checked the surroundings.

……As expected. The watch has gone slack.

Thanks to my announcement of outdoor play, I couldn't feel the hidden sentries who ought to have been tucked all over the garden. Only the presence of the guards holding the Annex's perimeter, farther out.

One week. I had behaved for a week—more than that, I'd even looked as if I were enjoying life as Elena's kept man, as my disciple's living comfort doll. People being people, the tension had to loosen.

To think I'd become a comfort doll for a disciple I raised myself.

Honestly, as a man, it felt good and shameful at once. Ambivalent, if I had to put a name to it. Anyway, what mattered now was escape. The optimal timing. A week's worth of buildup had made it. But the moment I escaped, Elena would notice. A fight with her was unavoidable.

Swordmaster of the North. A seat among the Continent's Ten Strongest. Second-in-Command of the Empire. Calamity of the Orcs. Terror of the Barbarians. I would have to face Elena Petrova.

I can take her.

Yes. I could. But the relationship would crack. She liked me. I wasn't stupid enough to miss that, even if I had no idea why she liked me. And the sex was pointlessly, stupidly good.

Damn it. Have I already fallen for her body?

I steadied myself. Right. I couldn't settle in. If the world ended, I died too, and I couldn't keep a relationship like this with Elena either. She would never let me go. Not for anything. Stay here stupidly doing nothing but having sex, and everyone dies. I wouldn't even get to touch the chest of the Elena I liked.

The protagonist. Find the protagonist, and set everything back on its original track. Then come back. To the North.

See the ending, then retire up north and live as Elena's kept man. That wouldn't be so bad.

The fact that she was my disciple did snag at me. But by modern standards Elena had been an adult for a long time, and we'd already done it—what was I supposed to do? It wasn't as if I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meant to dodge the responsibility. Besides, she'd repaired my broken body and even granted me the Return to Youth I'd only dreamed of.

If not for the protagonist, I really would have had no reason to leave. The trouble was simply that the trouble was too big. Right. No need to feel guilty for sleeping with my disciple. Right. That was how I rationalized it to myself. Not bad, really. Nobody hates being kept and fed.

With my mind made up, I awakened my mana core.

Current mana reserves……

Damian Bernstein. The body I had possessed was a cripple. Damian had been a Swordmaster, but when the shadow organization discarded him—the hunting dog cooked once the rabbit was caught—he survived at the cost of permanent damage to his mana circuits. Originally this was a body that couldn't use mana at all. That was why, even in the game, Damian was weak for his level. It was the rewards, bounty included, that were good.

So I had spent ten years patching it as best I could. In this barbaric medieval fantasy world, the fist sits closer than the law. The result was ten minutes. Ten minutes a day in which I could wield a Swordmaster's power. That was all I had managed, and because of it I'd had to study swordsmanship until my head split—insight, enlightenment, all of it. I'd thought swinging a sword well would be enough. It wasn't.

But Elena's treatment changed everything. Whatever method she had used, she turned my body's clock back to puberty, and the injuries vanished clean. My mana capacity dropped to Sword User level in exchange, but that didn't matter. I still had the enlightenment of a man who had reached Swordmaster.

First, I raise the mana.

I circulated mana and reinforced my whole body. Before, drawing it up meant enduring the pain of broken circuits. Now it was perfectly comfortable. My ki sense expanded. My vision changed. I could see the flow of mana with my eyes.

The flow. The eye that saw this flow was the very heart of the Bernstein Cultivation Method Damian had mastered. Feeling that flow, I kicked off the ground and leapt. A weak point in the barrier came into view. I took up the ceremonial sword.

An ordinary Sword User couldn't manifest Aura, but I had climbed all the way to Swordmaster once. I could.

The barrier tore. The North's cold crashed straight into the garden, and the pretty scenery went to ruin. Well, they'd fix it. Elena had money. What did this amount to, next to saving the world?

Thinking that, I flung myself through the rent and left the Annex behind.

"Something's wrong with the barrier!"

"Who is it?"

"Investigate the situation!"

Whether because my five senses were amplified along with my ki sense, the escort knights' voices reached me from behind. I slipped cunningly through the blind spots of their senses and ran up onto the roofs of the Winter Palace.

The northern blizzard wrapped my whole body. I'd dressed fairly warm, and I was still cold. I sprinted the high roofs and dropped straight to the ground.

Snow burst outward under my landing. I looked around—as expected, no one. A deserted back alley. Walking slowly, I spotted laundry hung out in the slums, snatched a set with a discreet motion, and left a few copper coins I'd prepared in its place.

Saving money while living with Elena hadn't been hard. She kept handing me huge sums and calling it allowance.

This should more than cover the clothes.

I changed into a pauper's outfit and stepped naturally out onto the main road.

The ducal capital, Petrograd. The North's only great city, with a population past twenty thousand, and the avenue was crowded to match.

Ugh. The smell.

The familiar stink of filth rose faintly on the air. True to the Middle Ages, the city's sanitation was as bad as ever. Damn Middle Ages. I had a modern man's free soul, and ten years in this barbaric world still hadn't made me used to it. Carts rattled through the mud among crowds of passersby, and I mixed in among them.

I didn't know how long the disguise would hold. For now I erased my tracks as best I could and slipped back into the underworld. I couldn't pass the castle gate. I had to use the doghole. In my experience, castles like this usually had a secret passage, and the game had implemented the doghole as well.

Thunder rolled, and sleet began to fall from the cloudy sky. Good, from a fugitive's point of view. Tracks were easier to erase.

The moment I entered the underworld, the air changed. Thugs with vicious faces. Skinny pickpockets.

"Hey, kid."

"Heheh. This here's Viper Gang turf. You wanna pass, you pay the toll. That's the word."

"Look at him—young, and that skin's real pale. Sell him off as a rent boy and we'd make a tidy sum, don't you think?"

And of course. The underworld always had this type. Really. Was this a cliché too? Well, it was a failed game's world, so it figured. And the Viper Gang, of all names. Not a scrap of creativity in the organization. Creativity. And sell who, where? These lunatics.

Well. I'd come looking for exactly this.

"A toll? I don't have any toll for the likes of you."

Saying so, I stepped through my footwork, put both brutes down, and slammed them into the ground. Street toughs who couldn't even use mana were nothing, even in a boy's body.

"Ghk!"

"Guhk! A-a mana user?! P-please spare me!"

The two of them shook at movements that were anything but ordinary.

"If you don't want to die, guide me to the doghole."

The doghole was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an open secret. A thing like that couldn't exist without the guard's tacit approval. Everyone knew about the back door and tolerated it, because they needed it for this and that piece of dirty business. And the reason anyone used it, knowing full well, was that it beat forcing a formal inspection.

"Y-yes! Understood, boss!"

"Who's your boss."

I smacked the back of his head, put the two of them in front, and headed for the doghole. It lay beneath a poorly maintained stretch of wall. I opened a dilapidated door and found a scarred brute sitting on a table. I threw the two thugs onto the floor like garbage.

"A customer, are you? The toll is one silver coin."

A familiar face, looking at me. I set a silver coin on the table without a word of argument. Getting out fast mattered more than haggling over pocket change.

"Then off you go, customer."

"Sure."

He lifted a plank, and a hole showed itself. I dropped to my belly and crawled through.

Ugh. Fuck. Filthy.

Sanitary upkeep was a fantasy. The doghole was caked in filth. Enduring a stench foul enough to make me retch, I finally got out of the city.

A howling blizzard. Good. Now I just had to go. I set a brisk pace in the direction of the Imperial Capital. And then—

"Master."

A familiar voice. With it, an overwhelming presence descended. Formless pressure seized everything around me. In a single instant, command of the surrounding space concentrated on one person.

The snow stopped. The sleet stopped. Every sound stopped. A silence like death settled over the white field.

"Where do you think you are going?"

It was Elena. She was coming. She descended from the sky and alighted on the earth as lightly as a goddess, and the focus had gone out of her eyes.

"This disciple was looking forward to a stroll through the rear garden with you, Master. So why…… Are you abandoning your disciple?"

No. Why would you look forward to that. I'm going to lose my mind.

"……Draw your sword. Lena."

I drew mine. Yes. I'd known it would come to this. She was the final gate. She meant to confine me no matter what. I had to get away no matter what.

"As I am now, I'm no Swordmaster. I'm grateful you fixed my body, but the mana stored in my core went with it. Dragging me back by force might be easy for you."

I looked at Elena.

"But what meaning would that have? Where in all the world is there a disciple who forcibly detains her own master?"

I knew her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well. Not merely Elena the game character. I had raised her, taught her, and even shared her body. It was fair to say no one in this world knew the Grand Duchess of the North as well as I did.

"So I'll make you an offer. If I land even a single clean hit on you, you withdraw. Right here, right now."

Nothing else mattered. Even if she tracked me later, if I could make Elena back off this instant, the victory was mine.

"And if I fail to hit you and lose, I'll walk into your palace myself. Not as a prisoner. Of my own will."

So what I was offering was a bet. The price of losing: I would step into her cage on my own. It wasn't much, really, but for an Elena obsessed with me, it was a proposal likely to tempt.

Elena smiled at my words. It was a chilling smile. Color rose in her face. She spoke in a calm voice, and steel whispered free as she drew her sword.

"Understood, Master. Very well. This disciple accepts your proposal."

Yes. I'd known she would.

"I will show you, Master, that your disciple's attainment has surpassed her master's. That, more than anything, is how this disciple proves your teachings with her entire body. And afterward, wearing only this, I will finish the rear-garden stroll under your lead."

With that, she held something up. It jingled. A collar.

For a moment, sheer disbelief shot straight into the sky. Why did she bring that all the way out here? No. Seriously. Fuck.

Sure enough, I really had raised my disciple all wrong.