Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Gently Scratching the Itch (2)
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"A bit annoying."
Whenever I saw untouched white snowfields that no one's feet had ever trod, I wanted to stomp all over them and leave dirty footprints.
Such petty thoughts grew larger inside me.
A childish impulse more petulant than a child's, more vicious than an adult's, and more insidious than an old man's.
"You've never had to work hard in your life, have you?"
I'd possessed this body and gone through all that hellish ordeal.
If it weren't for me, these people would have been trembling in fear at the mere thought of Requiem's demon appearing.
They had no idea how narrowly misfortune had spared them, and their innocent faces, free of any worry, made me want to grind them under my heel.
Really.
"......"
The emptiness deep in my gut stirred. It growled, opening its maw wide, whispering to me to toss them inside if I wished.
"...Ha. Forget it."
Unleashing Requiem's aura here wouldn't be a smart move.
"I don't want to die in a carriage accident."
I'd succeeded in suppressing Requiem's aura on the way here.
Being able to ride something other than Blackstar, and enjoying this peaceful carriage ride, were all thanks to that.
Besides, the capital had powerhouses who could sense Requiem's aura, even if not on Diego's level.
"That guy's probably here too."
I thought of Cain, the protagonist, who should have arrived at his mansion in the capital by now.
Most nobles prepared several mansions on prime capital land. For staying during frequent capital events.
But who was Abel's father?
"Diego's not the type to buy a place like this."
That upright old man would spend any spare coin on weapons or armor for his knights.
"The guy has no clue how to spend money."
That rigid integrity had propelled him to his position, but it also kept him trapped there.
"No, but still. One of the four great lords, and no mansion in the capital?"
It was absurd. The original protagonist, Cain, already owned several mansions ahead of me.
It was so blatantly unfair, such a lopsided start.
"Anyway, the guy has everything."
I chewed over Cain's nickname, the one used most often in the story.
A munchkin who hogged every single privilege the genre could offer. He had it all.
"Hmph, just you wait."
I'd take it all from him and close that gap.
"Whoa, whoa."
The coachman's voice slowed the carriage.
"We've arrived."
I opened the door and hopped out.
Before me stood an inn adorned with luxurious stonework. The kind where nobles without capital mansions stayed.
"Not bad on the outside."
The interior was decent too. In some ways, better than my room in Ovest Territory.
I picked the best room available and paid.
"I'm definitely buying a mansion in the capital soon."
Grumbling all the while, I headed to the stables on the first floor.
You couldn't ride horses freely in the capital. So I decided to stable Brownie, the horse I'd ridden here.
Why Brownie?
"Whoa......"
The stable boy's mouth fell open at the sight of the horse.
"Amazing......!"
He couldn't stop staring at its glossy coat and neatly groomed chocolate-brown mane.
"Take good care of it. It's expensive."
I tossed him a silver coin as a tip.
"Yes, sir! Got it!"
His resounding reply echoed. Careful not to hurt the horse, he took the reins and led it away.
I watched his back for a moment, then turned.
"Old man Marco, not bad at all."
It was the horse Lord Marco had gifted me. His most prized purebred, complete with pedigree papers.
"A gift, right?"
Even if his eyes had glistened with tears as he watched, and his hands trembled handing over the reins.
"Hahaha."
I laughed out loud, recalling his final expression.
Anyway, it was the best horse I'd ridden so far.
Slower than Blackstar, sure, but still top-notch. And above all, its docile temperament obeyed my commands perfectly.
"Noble steeds really are different."
As I left the inn, a new necklace dangled against my chest.
Clink.
At its end hung a whistle. I picked it up and stared at it intently.
"How much money did he have stashed away to whip up something like this?"
I'd received it just before leaving Bezerc Territory. Instead of blowing it, I set it down lightly.
"Not like it'd make a sound anyway."
This whistle emitted a pitch inaudible to human ears. Only Blackstar and I could hear and react to it.
"Wonder if he's frolicking around happily."
I'd released Blackstar into the forests around Bezerc Territory. I'd played this whistle for him and told him to come running whenever he heard it.
"It's not time to bring him into the capital yet."
His appearance and abilities were too conspicuous. Stabling him at a place like this would expose my location easily.
"Just wait a bit longer. I'll prepare a proper place for you soon."
Of course, I had no intention of house-hunting personally.
"I'm about to hire someone to do the work for me."
Grinning, I climbed back into the carriage and set off for my first task in establishing my foothold in the capital.
"Man, this is comfy."
The cushioning against my butt was so plush, I felt like I could merge with the seat.
Capital carriages were on another level, ride quality and all.
"We've arrived."
The distance wasn't far, so we reached our destination quickly.
"Good work."
I hopped out and paid the coachman.
"Wait here until I'm done."
"Understood."
Though it was my first time, I knew what to look for.
'A rooster-shaped sign, and a pillar next to it.'
Following the original story's memories, I navigated. I found my target soon enough.
"Ah, there it is."
Smiling faintly, I approached the tavern. I pulled my robe's hood low and gripped the door handle.
'Let's see.'
Before opening, I deployed my Absolute Domain.
A new habit since acquiring Requiem. Scanning interiors with Absolute Domain before entering places.
'Three people. No other customers.'
Just the ones I expected, it seemed. Good—no need to chase anyone out.
Click.
Well-oiled, the door opened silently.
Sunlight streamed through the gap, illuminating scattered tables and chairs.
"Welcome."
A middle-aged woman sweeping the floor bowed politely. I nodded and scanned the rest.
At the counter, a dark-featured man scribbled on paper. The thick stack suggested ledgers.
"Welcome, sir."
Another male server hurried over, flashing a salesman's smile.
"I'll show you to a table."
He led me to one, setting down a plate, utensils, water glass, and menu.
"What would you like to order?"
I skimmed the menu halfheartedly. Cheap booze and simple snacks.
"I'll think about it and call you."
I waved him off. He bowed and retreated. As he turned, I caught a glimpse of his blue-tinged fingernails.
'Hmm.'
Pretending to study the menu, I eyed the man at the counter. More precisely, his iron-hard fists and callused palms.
'Looks like I found the right place.'
My eyes narrowed slightly.
I licked my lips, biding my time. Until the middle-aged woman came near.
"Hey."
I tapped her arm. She turned from wiping another table.
"Yes, sir? Ready to order?"
"No. More interested in you."
The tavern's air shifted subtly. I felt the counter man and server watching me intently.
She gave an awkward smile.
"You mean me?"
Her folded eyes scanned my face.
'Is this guy nuts?'
Her smile hid it, but her pale blue eyes said as much.
A young-voiced man showing interest in a middle-aged woman? Bizarre.
Hot-blooded youths usually chased girls their age or younger.
"Sir, sorry, but I'm......"
"I know you're not married. No ring?"
"Don't you think I just couldn't afford one?"
She laughed coyly, her wrinkled face blooming with surprising freshness.
"No suitable lady for you here. Try another place......"
"No."
I cut off her deflection sharply.
"You're my age."
Her eyes widened slightly. As she recoiled in surprise, I grabbed her arm.
"Ah."
Caught by the wrist, she couldn't pull away.
"-!"
The counter man and server's auras sharpened.
From mere watchfulness before, now they were poised to strike.
Both men tensed, glaring at me.
"I do look young for my age, don't I?"
She slowly lifted the corner of her mouth, feigning nonchalance.
"Thanks for the compliment. You're too kind."
"Not what I meant."
I shook my head slowly, then added in a meaningful tone.
"Crudelle."
Her face crumbled uncontrollably.
Crudelle.
Its symptoms mimicked aging. Skin lost elasticity, wrinkles spread, age spots bloomed on once-fair flesh.
But it spread to organs over time, leading to inevitable death.
No medicine, no doctor could halt it. Cure was impossible.
The woman before me was in her twenties. Yet she looked forty, generously fifty.
She suffered this incurable disease that brutally stole her prime.
"......"
I saw her right fist clench. Then came her gritted voice.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Shame and despair faintly colored her words. Her composure, unshaken by my abrupt advances, had cracked.
"......"
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. Astonishingly, she'd suppressed her turmoil and regained calm in that instant.
"This is getting troublesome. If that's all, may I go?"