Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Master of the Assassination Guild
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A CSS rule-less assassin is nothing more than a murderer.
Assassin guilds each upheld their own creeds and codes of conduct, adhering to them rigorously. Sloppy assassins earned no respect from them.
...In that sense, the Black Snake was a highly exceptional assassin.
We are shadows that devour sins.
The self is poison alone.
Shun gold and blood.
The most important code for an assassin—and the Black Snake was relatively free from it.
Some described it as interpreting and following the code in a highly original way.
The Black Snake lived outwardly as a high-ranking adventurer, and she didn't shy away from personal gain in the process.
It was absolutely not conduct that adhered to the code. However, it wasn't entirely against it either.
She maintained a precarious life walking the line as an assassin.
Of course, if one wanted to uphold the code, such laxity could not be ignored.
The guild took action.
They mobilized other masters to attempt to set her straight.
In that process, the guild gained an unexpected windfall.
"When did I plant the poison, you ask? What a foolish question. Before I answer, I'll give you a chance to think it over yourselves."
Those were masters, each one an object of terror in the world.
They realized that all their lives were in the hands of the Black Snake.
For assassins, the code is absolute.
If there was one value free from that code—it was absolute power.
And so the Black Snake earned the guild's respect and devoted herself even more to her "adventurer play."
...All to cure her utterly disgusting and horrific skin disease.
It felt like the fire clinging to her skin was finally being extinguished.
It was the first sensation of its kind she'd felt since contracting the skin disease.
Salana immediately pulled out a mirror to check.
"…"
Salana cautiously touched her face.
"No way..."
Salana had poured every possible effort into curing her skin disease.
She had traveled across the continent to meet famous healers, priests, and mages.
She had even personally hired pharmacists and alchemists to commission custom cosmetics.
But it was all in vain.
They could temporarily heal the scars and blemishes caused by the disease, but not eradicate the disease itself.
This was different.
Or rather, the opposite.
The scars and wounds on her face remained, but the root cause—the disease itself—had visibly improved.
The horrific dark red hue staining her skin had faded, if only slightly.
"How...?"
Salana forgot to rejoice and was purely bewildered.
She looked at the man before her—Rishir.
He was an ordinary man, aside from evoking a thought like, 'Kinda cute, huh?'
His looks were somewhat aristocratic, but he steadfastly refused to reveal his family. And his casual demeanor.
He was probably from some impoverished house, making it hard for him to embrace a noble identity.
His realm matched that ordinariness too.
Third circle at an age that looked around twenty.
For a commoner, that would be proof of exceptional talent—but
for a noble raised with total support from a young age, it was proof of mediocrity.
Perhaps even inferiority.
Salana and most others who had tried to cure her disease would think so.
Nothing special.
Rishir was the kind of person who gave that first impression.
Such an unremarkable man had approached her, claiming he could treat her skin disease.
It was reasonable for Salana to doubt his intentions and abilities.
She surely would have—but
"What do you think?"
"...Huh?"
Salana snapped back to reality at Rishir's words.
Her expression brightened in an instant.
Thwack!
Salana grabbed his arm fiercely.
"How did you do it?!"
Salana was so flustered she forgot to act as the "gruff high-rank adventurer."
But it wasn't a big issue.
She was in such a good mood that even the "master of the assassin guild" looked like a "gruff high-rank adventurer."
"…"
Yet Rishir's reaction was lukewarm.
He said with a dissatisfied look,
"If possible, could you tell me about your current condition?"
"...!"
Salana was startled by Rishir's demeanor.
'Why is he so reliable!?'
Salana's upright posture suddenly became deferential.
If those who knew her true nature saw it, they'd be aghast: "That madwoman is showing manners!?"
"It feels better! No, it seems better! How did you do it!? Can you tell me?"
Back to her cheerful adventurer self, Salana gazed at Rishir with sparkling eyes.
"It's improved?"
"...Is there a problem? From what I feel, it seems that way for now—"
"Actually, Miss Salana, your disease hasn't fully recovered yet."
"...!"
Salana's eyes widened.
She felt saved just from a slight improvement, but this man was dissatisfied that he hadn't fully cured it.
In other words, he was confident he could cure it completely.
"What do I need to do!? What do you need? Money? Materials? Just say it."
"...Excuse me, but could you place your hand on the wounded area again—"
Before he finished, Salana knelt on the ground and pressed her face to his palm.
"No, you don't need to go that far—"
"Oh. Uncomfortable? Sorry. I'm just too excited right now—"
Haha.
Salana stood up, pressing Rishir's hand to her face.
"Good now? How is it?"
Salana hounded Rishir like a dog begging its owner for a walk, but shut her mouth the moment he focused.
A brief silence followed—
"Miss Salana?"
"Yeah. Listening."
"By any chance—"
Rishir pondered how to convey what he sensed to Salana.
What he felt: her skin disease was definitely a target for "Normalization."
An abnormal power reacting to Normalization's force was worsening her skin's condition.
Thus, he expected using purification would fully heal her skin.
But what was this?
Salana's skin disease remained unchanged.
More precisely, it was reverting to its original state, making the recovery pointless.
'Like a barrel connected to a pipe...'
Even if you emptied the barrel's filth, it refilled immediately through the connected pipe.
"Ugh...!"
Sure enough, Salana grimaced and pulled her face from Rishir's hand.
The healed wounds tore open, oozing sticky pus that soaked his hand.
For the first time, shame crossed Salana's ever-cheerful face.
"Sorry! Gross, right!? I'll clean it right away—"
Salana hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe Rishir's hand.
It was an exquisitely luxurious handkerchief for mere pus.
It indirectly showed how much care she usually put into her skin.
"…"
Salana wiped Rishir's palm with a face twisted in shame.
Rishir swallowed a sigh as he watched.
He'd thought to offer light help and be done, but it seemed more complicated than that.
His gaze drifted outside their alley.
He was worried about Fienne waiting at the inn.
"What's wrong? Somewhere urgent you need to be?"
Salana's voice fully captured Rishir's attention then.
In that brief glance away, her atmosphere had shifted.
Her cheerful expression remained, but the light had vanished from her dark red eyes.
The desperation of possibly losing the hope she'd finally grasped shattered the assassin's composure.
Salana—cheerful adventurer and assassin guild master intertwined—stared silently at Rishir.
Then she looked at their clasped hands, wiping the pus.
Rishir hadn't noticed, but he was now infected with her paralytic toxin.
Of course, it wasn't meant to kill.
Why use something so vicious on a potential benefactor?
"If treating me right now is less urgent than something else, tell me."
It merely temporarily robbed bodily freedom.
A mild toxin potent enough to make someone reconsider leaving.
"...I do have prior plans with my companion."
"I see?"
Salana smirked bitterly.
Everyone knew it, but assassins didn't favor ordinary conversation.
They knew well how pointless it was.
They knew two more efficient ways.
Persuasion. And intimidation.
Normally, Salana would have persistently conversed as the cheerful adventurer—but now she lacked the composure.
Desperate at the thought of Rishir leaving, the assassin cut the talk short.
Now for persuasion.
"Can't be helped then."
Salana activated the toxin.
Rishir reacted immediately.
"So, could I quickly check with my companion?"
"?"
He continued gazing casually into Salana's eyes.
"I didn't plan to go this far originally, but I've changed my mind. This is my first time with something like this too—I want to see it through. Would you cooperate?"
"...Y-Yeah! Coop, cooperation! Of course. Absolutely."
Salana panicked.
The toxin had no effect, and Rishir's words were unexpected.
The master of the Black Hand assassin guild.
The Black Snake.
This was the first time she showed fluster to another.
"You couldn't cure it either? Well, it's a matter worth prioritizing over our dinner plans. I'll let it slide this time."
Fienne vented irritation at the broken dinner promise but readily accepted Rishir's explanation.
"I have a quick stop to make too—want to come along?"
"A stop?"
"Yeah. Truth is, I had plans too. Meeting an expert for advice on this damned skin."
"Oh. Sorry. Because of me—"
"Sorr~y my foot."
Salana threw her arms around Rishir's shoulders.
"Rishir prioritized me over his girlfriend, so I'm prioritizing him now. Honestly, getting help from him will be way more useful than those two experts. I'm only going to them just in case."
"Just in case?"
"Just in case their opinion might help Rishir."
"Ah. Makes sense. I was thinking the same. I have questions about Miss Salana's disease too."
As they walked the streets, the surrounding buildings and pedestrians' attire dramatically changed at some point.
They had left the commercial district with the inn and entered the magic district.
"By the way, you mentioned experts earlier—who are they?"
"One's a pretty famous scholar in this city. An elite mage from Keig Magic Tower."
"Oh..."
Rishir's eyes gleamed.
'An elite from the Magic Tower? Even high nobles struggle to get appointments, right?'
As expected of a high-rank adventurer—her connections were no joke.
Rishir recalled the side income from this job he'd briefly forgotten and felt satisfied.
High-rank adventurer, huh.
For his first connections since entering the city, it was luxuriously extravagant.
"And the other one's—a bit embarrassing to say—a shaman."
"Shaman?"
"You might not believe it, but she's the only one who's truly helped with this skin disease. She helped once before, it worked, so I meet her periodically for treatments."
"Treatments mean—"
"Performing a ritual and drinking a reagent. Sounds dumb, I know, but it actually helps a lot."
"Ritual... reagent..."
Rishir repeated the words, staring at Salana's diseased skin.
Soon, they arrived at an underground lab on the outskirts of the magic district.
"My lab. I prepared it for the shaman I mentioned."
As Salana said, two guests were already there.
'Dread? Check out the hip vibe?'
Rishir inwardly admired.
An old man with long gray beard and braided hair sat facing a young woman with red tribal markings on her face, deep in serious talk.
"Oh? Ah, Salana's here."
The old man greeted Salana right away.
"Gave me a start. An expert who helped with your nasty skin disease—what kind of big shot, I wondered—and it's a savage."
"Savage? You weren't rude to my benefactor, were you?"
"At first! Unintentionally. Conversing with savages isn't common, right? But now it's fine. Her knowledge is far from barbaric. Shamanism! How mysterious, fascinating, and savage a power!"
The shaman then nodded to Salana.
"Salana, long time no see."
"Ah, yeah, long time, Glia. Thanks for coming too, Lord Meltas."
"Tch tch. Making this old man drag his heavy steps. You should be grateful. Indeed, grateful. But Salana—that young man beside you, who's he?"
Rishir stepped forward.
"Name's Rishir."
"Oh, right. Rishir. So."
"Yes?"
"Rishir of which house?"
"Ah, can't disclose that. I'm a bastard of my house."
"Hm."
Meltas nodded slowly.
A subtle dissatisfaction crossed his face.
"So. Bastard Rishir. What brings you here?"
"Lord Meltas. Rishir came to help me."
Salana said with a hint of displeasure.
Meltas mirrored her displeasure.
A bastard.
A mere third-circle fledgling invited here on equal footing.
"Then my help isn't needed."
Meltas rose without hesitation.
Then shaman Glia stood and strode to Salana.
Glia's face twisted as she examined Salana's.
"Salana. What happened?"
"What?"
"Your condition... it's severely worsened."
She pulled a vial of green reagent from her bosom and handed it to Salana.
"Drink this first."
Salana reflexively took it.
And Rishir snatched the vial.
In that instant, the reagent's color changed.
"What are you—...!"
"You—"
"What did you two put in this?"
The bastard interrogated the old man and shaman a beat faster.