Menesteil (7)
It didn't take me long to figure out what this guy was after.
The leisurely smile he wore, the way his eyes curved with practiced ease, that deliberately smooth voice — there was no mistaking it.
Seriously, does this idiot keep his brain in his pants?
It's true that I look beautiful right now. Mouth closed, I have the face of a doll so pretty you'd want to scoop it up and carry it home.
But the infamy attached to the name Lucy Aln carries enough weight to crush that beauty flat. Even the adventurers of Menesteil know it full well — so Meg, this absolute disaster of a human being, must have approached me with his eyes blinded by my looks alone.
No. Wait. That can't be right.
Meg may be a complete moron in both backstory and behavior, but he's still a count's heir who received a proper education. There's no way he's so brain-dead he'd walk up to Lucy without being able to tell friend from foe.
He must have come up without knowing my name. Just spotted someone eye-catching as he passed by, and drifted over. Yeah. That has to be it.
It has to be.
'Um, excuse me...'
"Hey there, Mr. Pedo Pervert Who Harasses Little Girls. You know who I am? Well, I don't know creeps like you, but still?"
"Just as they say — quite the foul tongue, Lady Aln. A rose among thorns, I see."
So much for that theory, huh? Turns out he's just a bigger disaster than I could've imagined — a man so thoroughly captured by his lower half that he'd simply given up on thinking.
I never expected there'd be a lunatic out there who outdid even the face-con fox.
Hah. Why does the world always expand in the worst possible directions?
Having clutched a sliver of hope only to watch it evaporate, I let out a conspicuous sigh, but Meg's smile didn't waver in the slightest.
"I'll join you for a moment, then."
When Meg moved to take a seat without so much as asking my opinion, Carl, standing behind me, moved to stop him.
"Heir of House George. My lady has not—"
"Silence, you Knight trinket. How dare a musclebound fool who can't even use magic speak to me."
Meg's eyes as he glared at Carl were brimming with disgust. Disgust for someone of lower station. Disgust for a knight who couldn't wield magic. And disgust for anyone daring to obstruct his courtship campaign.
"Hold your tongue. Before I sew it shut for you."
What absurd confidence. What exactly did this guy believe in, strutting around like that?
His status as a count-in-waiting that he hadn't even inherited yet? Or his own magical talent, which he thought was impressive but was actually laughably pathetic? Or maybe those guard flunkies of his that the current me could obviously splatter across the floor at full power?
Whatever he was leaning on, the sight of a man who'd lose his head without landing a single counter the moment Carl decided to swing his sword was so pitiful I couldn't even work up a laugh.
Carl surely knew it too. Having someone lesser puff themselves up right in your face — that had to sting.
And yet, being a knight and a guard, he held his courtesy.
"My apologies. But please, step away."
"Ha. This is exactly why warriors are hopeless. Is your brain so packed with muscle there's no room left for intellect? Do try to show some flexibility, foolish knight."
Ha. This guy really knows how to grind my gears, huh?
Being insulted and looked down on myself — that I could stand.
Ever since I woke up in Lucy's body, that's all I'd endured: those looks, those words. I'd been bruised so many times there was no skin left to break.
But it was different when it was aimed at the people around me.
And it was doubly different when the one being insulted was someone who'd stepped forward on my behalf.
"Step back."
"But, my lady—"
"Do I really need to say it twice, doggy?♡"
Only after I added that one line did Carl bite down hard on his lip and retreat.
Whatever Meg made of him, he flashed Carl a derisive smirk and took the seat across from me.
Ahhh. Perfect timing, actually.
I already had a mountain of stress built up from clearing the Menestale Dungeon, and now a sandbag I could beat on with zero guilt had walked right up to me!
"Thank you for allowing me to join you."
"I was just wondering what kind of creature thinks with its lower half because its brain is stuffed full of mana instead♡"
"Ahem."
When I handed his own words right back to him, the sandbag coughed in obvious discomfort.
Mmm. The hit feedback on this sandbag isn't bad. I love how he strains to keep his composure while the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Lady Aln. Pray forgive the question, but is there some special reason you are dining here?"
"Why would I be sitting here if I didn't have a reason?♡ Are you stupid?♡ Ahh~ I get it, your brain's gone soft from all that below-the-waist thinking, huh?♡ Poor thing~♡"
The moment I decided I wanted to piss him off, my body started moving all on its own. The snickering laugh. The openly contemptuous stare. The hand hovering near my mouth, with absolutely no intention of covering it.
That's the Mesugaki skill for you! Say what you will, it nails this part perfectly!
The sandbag, caught square in the trap of my provocation, chewed on his lip with a reddening face, but didn't raise his voice.
"It is not that. If you have no particular need to dine here today, I merely wished to treat you to a proper meal, that is all."
"Um, are you deaf?♡ I literally just said I'm sitting here on purpose♡ Wow, you can't even understand that? Maybe your ears are down south too?♡ Do I need to talk to your crotch for you to hear me?♡ PWAHAHA♡ That's straight-up gross~♡ So that's how a trashy pedo pervert evolves?♡"
I could see the sandbag's hands clenching into fists. Trembling with the full force of his grip — clearly, given the chance, he'd love to smash my face in.
Whoa. That is genuinely superhuman patience. Knowing how the Mesugaki skill's provocation works, his eyes should've rolled back ages ago.
Is this what you get for betting your whole life on your lower half? Impressive. Definitely not something I want to imitate, though.
"...Then might we arrange a meeting for another time?"
"Which direction should I answer this time?♡ Up? Or down?♡"
"Lady Aln."
A chill crept into that voice he'd been keeping as smooth as he could manage until now.
Oh? The sandbag's durability already hitting its limit? The hit feedback's decent, but he's a bit fragile. Maybe I should file a complaint with the manufacturer.
"Just kidding♡ So when are you free?"
When I asked back, a faint glow of delight rose on the sandbag's face. The way he tried to hide his happiness made him that much more repulsive.
"Hmm. How about tomorrow?"
"Nope♡"
"The day after?"
"Also nope♡"
"Any day this week that would suit you?"
"Nooo?♡"
"Are you toying with me?"
"PWAHAHAHA♡ Only just figured that out?♡ You really are dense♡ Like I'd ever make plans with a scrub like you?♡"
As our exchange wore on, the sandbag's steadily rotting expression finally hardened into stark seriousness.
"Lucy Aln."
"Whaaat♡ Don't tell me you actually got your hopes up?♡ You were happy a cute girl like me was playing with you?♡ But oopsie, what do we do about that?♡ Losers like you are a biological impossibility for me♡ Just looking at you makes me wanna puke♡"
As I made exaggerated retching noises for his listening pleasure, the sandbag slammed his palm on the table and shot to his feet, glaring at me with feral eyes.
"That is enough."
"Hehe♡ Kukuku♡ And that's supposed to be a threat?♡ Wow~ so scary♡ Pffft♡ You're totally, hopelessly pathetic♡"
I kept needling him, and at last the sandbag tore.
Unable to stomach it any longer, he snatched at my wrist.
True to his soft, flabby sandbag nature, the movement was so glacially slow I could've wedged the word "scrub" into it three separate times — but I let that hand catch me on purpose.
Why? Because now I had justification, duh.
"I told you to stop!"
Now then. Let's assess this situation objectively, shall we?
Who approached first? The sandbag.
Who forced his way into my seat despite being unwelcome? The sandbag.
Who shouted at me, grabbed my wrist by force, and threatened me? The sandbag.
Witnesses? Every single soul in this restaurant — so popular that even Nick recommends it.
Which means what I'm about to do next is perfectly justified self-defense.
A small, delicate young girl being threatened by a scary-looking grown man — of course she's going to resist.
If I'd been lowborn, this might not have been justification enough, but I happen to be the count's daughter of House Aln, the family that once held an entire continent in the palm of its hand.
That's plenty of authority for giving this bastard his True Education. Right?
I sprang up from my chair, leapt onto the table itself, and smashed my fist straight into the sandbag's face.
I didn't use my full strength. That would've turned it into a fatal-accident report.
Still, I bet I knocked at least a couple of teeth out of that weakling sandbag.
The sandbag, flung halfway across the room and sprawled on the floor, staggered upright, probed the spot where my fist had landed, and shrieked.
"You bishhardd!!"
"Hehe♡ Whaaat♡ So you're not a mage, you're a clown?♡ It's your true calling♡ No wonder your whole face looked like a joke♡"
As I moved toward the sandbag, whose speech now hissed through the gaps where his teeth used to be, his waiting guards stepped in to block my path.
"Lady Aln. We apologize, but—"
"You know you should be sorry, so why even open your mouths?♡ Do you want to get cursed out?♡ Master and servants both, just a pack of pedo pervert scum, huh?♡ So disgustiiiing♡"
"That is not at all—"
"Or how about you scurry off?♡ Before I go tell Papa all about you creeps♡"
Think carefully, boys. If we wrap this up here, it ends at my level.
Nothing happens except your moron of a master getting his teeth kicked in. That's all.
But what if this doesn't end here — what if it travels all the way to Benedict? Are you confident you can handle a daddy enraged past all reason? If it were me, I'd never want that man as an enemy. Not ever.
"Fall back."
Before I could add another word, the one leading the guards spoke up.
Pfft. See? You're scared of Benedict too, aren't you? You were going to back down anyway — can't figure out why you bothered with the tough act.
All you did was make me even more annoyed.
"Move aside! You're supposed to be my guard, you basta—"
"I will bear the responsibility. Step back."
As the guards withdrew, the sandbag came back into view.
He was staring at me with terror-filled eyes.
The man who'd thought himself on top of the world mere seconds ago was now gawking at me like a cornered animal.
How pathetic. How utterly hilarious.
"Don' come! If you come, I'll atHack!"
"Go ahead. Like anything you throw could actually hurt me?♡"
I sauntered forward with lazy, unhurried steps, daring him to cast — and the sandbag actually started casting.
Whoa. He really is a failure beyond my wildest imagination. Forget feuds between noble houses — shouldn't your own skin come first, you idiot?
And that spell was fire-attribute, no less. I remembered it well from watching Joy use it so often.
Fire magic, in a wooden building packed with people. What kind of catastrophe was he planning for if it went even slightly wrong?
Yeah. This guy is beyond saving.
I was confident I'd walk away without a scratch even if that spell hit me dead-on. A tank who bleeds from firepower that feeble doesn't deserve the name.
But I couldn't be sure how far the blast would spread.
So I closed the distance in a single stride and cut off his casting with a kick straight to the sandbag's gut.
The sandbag, who floated into the air like a cannonball before crashing to the floor, clutched his stomach and dry-heaved.
I walked over and drove a kick into his side to lay him flat on his back.
The sandbag's terrified eyes were trembling uncontrollably.
"Whaaat♡ Scared of the little girl you tried to pin under yourself?♡ A pedo, a pervert, a weakling, an idiot, AND a coward?♡ You're the scrubbiest scrub that ever scrubbed♡"
"I... am! The firsh shon of Coun' Georch! Raish a hand on me and!..."
Then I stomped my foot down on that face to shut the mouth spewing its useless noises.
"Can it?♡ Even the sound of your voice makes me sick♡"