Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: When You Don't Know, Just Learn
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Pastel clutched her longsword to her chest and spun around the room. Her winter dress fluttered.
"My friend~."
She hummed.
"I bet you could cosign my debts~."
The new room was completely empty, but she didn't mind at all. The knot in her chest had finally loosened.
How desperately she'd longed for a proper weapon. Sure, it was chipped, but it was a real one.
Sorry, table leg, for all the hard work you put in. But I think I like this chipped longsword more.
Pastel gripped the longsword in the middle of the room. She gazed at the blade in rapture.
This sharpness!
The power to rip through leather and flesh!
No more was the Pastel who threw her whole body into every attack. Only the Pastel who would dispatch monsters as pre-meal appetizers remained.
She spun her body as she walked.
"Whoosh!"
She swung the sword in a spin.
"Shwaak!"
The sword strike claimed a wide swath of space.
Her chest swelled with emotion.
Now she could take on anything. Come at her. She'd dice them up with her amazing sword skills.
With confident steps, she headed toward what looked like the entrance hall. She cautiously held out a mirror to check her blind spots.
This was the third floor.
A grand staircase descended from the second floor to the entrance hall.
On the second-floor landing, a figure shrouded in black energy reflected back.
Heh heh, not scary at all.
Which foolish monster would be her appetizer?
A bipedal non-human.
Unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar.
The thing called a knight from the Middle Ages.
A knight.
The non-human held a black longsword. Plate armor covered its body in glossy black.
Pastel went blank, her mind freezing.
Pastel flattened herself to the floor. She crawled beyond the entrance, out of the knight's line of sight.
I'm a caterpillar.
A wormy one.
She reached the opposite corridor and stood. She shivered in the chill and brushed off her winter dress.
Man, I really thought it wasn't plate armor. That longsword looks way better than my chipped one. If it's a barbaric, dangerous creature, shouldn't it avoid civilized tools?
Grumbling, she searched the rooms. There was a staircase to the lower floor, but she wasn't risking the knight's view.
A wolf lurked around the corridor corner. She showed it her new friend.
She dodged the wolf's leap and slashed. There was rough resistance, but it tore right through.
The hide split, and black energy leaked from the wolf. She charged the staggering beast and thrust, ending it effortlessly.
"So light! You're just an appetizer!"
Pastel hummed. The clean slice felt like she'd gotten stronger. Was it just her imagination?
She devoured the meat pudding and searched the remaining rooms.
No monsters on the entire third floor.
Completely reclaimed.
Thanks to that, she could shudder freely at the sight of her stripped rooms.
"Father...!"
If only her kind and beautiful mother were still alive, the house wouldn't be in this state.
The only furniture she found was a massive bookshelf against one wall. The room was otherwise empty.
She examined the unfaded furniture marks on the floor. It looked like the family head's study.
"Whoa, my study?"
The desk and chair that should be there? Gone, of course.
Pastel scanned the books.
History, traditions, customs, and guidelines of the Craft Family.
Titles covering all sorts of fields, sometimes in granular detail.
She pulled out the guide for family heads and skimmed it.
"Oh, emperor studies?"
Right there: how to backstab allied families.
"Betrayal is less about the act itself and more about the follow-up. Get what you want, then sow internal discord. Pick a side and propose a new alliance."
Whoa.
Pastel gaped in shock and flipped to the practical guidelines. Past family heads' experiences and know-how were neatly compiled with real cases.
"The surefire method: the current head betrays, and the next generation offers sincere apologies to re-alliance. Spin a tale of multi-generational intrigue with the last surviving heir. Your foe will fall helplessly."
The book's contents were mostly about shady dealings. A quick skim confirmed it wasn't her imagination.
Ooh, our family looks totally evil.
Division and betrayal as hobbies?
Doesn't match the frilly exterior at all. It's a million light-years from pink and fluffy.
Maybe that's why the facade was a relief?
Oh my god.
Doesn't suit my kind, positive personality.
She slid the book back.
She'd checked every room.
Now what?
"Should I fight the plate armor?"
Even so, isn't that suicide?
Go around? Yeah, bypassing makes sense.
I'm not obsessed with meat pudding or anything.
Thinking of meat pudding made her mouth water. Her mind grew hazy.
She shook it off quickly.
No, no.
I'm not addicted to weird desserts. I just eat them because they're tasty and helpful.
Skip the second floor. Take the stairs straight down. Kitchen's probably on the first floor.
She rubbed her growling stomach.
Stamina's fine, but...
My soul feels empty.
Like someone slurped it up and ran.
Body feels weird. Need proper food.
As Pastel turned her head while opening a door, she froze. A black figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
The plate-armored knight walked with its head bowed, scanning the floor. It seemed to be tracking something.
Yet the floor showed no traces. Or at least, none by scientific standards.
Meat pudding came to mind.
Black energy puffing out.
Ah, damn it.
The knight slowly raised its head, quickly scanning distant marks. Then it spotted Pastel at the end.
Red light flashed from the helmet.
The black knight charged. Its massive weight boomed.
Eek...!
Pastel slammed the door shut. She fumbled the lock just as a kick rattled it. Wood creaked faintly.
Wooden door won't hold.
She bolted to the window. Scanned the monster-filled grounds.
Wall-climb or knight—which is less deadly?
A non-human below hurled a rock through the window. It missed, but the thud made her hair stand on end.
Both are suicide.
The door took another kick. Wood splintered clearly now.
Whoa whoa whoa.
She frantically scanned the room. This is the family head's study. There has to be an emergency setup. An escape route or something.
Escape route?
Her eyes went to the bookshelf. Everything sold off, yet the shelf intact.
Books are family secrets, unsellable. The shelf? Maybe built into the structure?
Another kick. Loud splintering.
Her hair stood on end.
Pastel dashed to the bookshelf. Couldn't topple it, so she yanked books out roughly with both hands. Cleared one shelf, then another.
Found one book that wouldn't budge.
What the...?
It was fixed to the shelf.
She shoved it hard. Her fingers stung. Ow? Blood smeared the book, and something clicked.
Gears whirred behind the shelf. It slid open, revealing a dim passage.
A descending spiral staircase.
Whoa.
Pastel grabbed her sword and shield. She plunged into the spiral stairs. The door splintered. The shelf sealed shut.
The steep spiral dropped vertically into darkness. She relied on glowing paint.
Pastel raced down blindly. Only later did she realize no pursuit sounds followed.
"Haa... I lived..."
She caught her breath. Musty air filled her lungs. The dim space finally registered.
What's this place? Real emergency exit? Hopefully leads outside the mansion. Or at least to the kitchen.
After a long descent, a basement appeared. Wall candles lit automatically, illuminating it.
"Wow."
One wall was lined with bookshelves. A simple table and chair sat before them.
Oh my god.
The furniture's intact...!
Pastel was moved by the wrong thing.
A leather pouch on the shelf caught her eye.
Huh, what's that?
She rushed over and opened it. Gems and coins sparkled.
Mysterious gems, gold coins, silver coins.
"Gasp."
How many longswords is this?
Shocking.
Turns out I'm not a beggar.
She hefted the pouch, savoring its weight. Emergency funds, but lighter than expected.
Still, no starving for a while. Can't maintain noble dignity, but whatever.
She set the pouch down carefully.
Opposite the shelves was an iron cage. A sword was stabbed into the ground inside.
Pastel glanced between her longsword and the caged one.
Way better than my new friend?
She wanted to compare, but no door on the cage. What is this? Decorative?
Pastel rattled the thick bars and gave up. She smacked her lips in regret.
She finished scanning the basement.
Remaining walls were just walls.
Hmm.
She nodded, then froze.
"Huh?"
She quickly scanned the basement.
Definitely sealed off.
To leave, back up the spiral stairs.
Her hair stood on end.
The helmet's red glow flashed in her mind.
No way... am I...
A rat in a trap?
"Eek."
No wonder the name Pastel Love Craft. I can see my fate now. She rationalized it, but it really was weird.
In the end, it happened just like her name.
"My life's cosmic horror, ugh."
No room to argue if someone misnames her Pastel Love Craft from now on. Not that there's anyone to call her.
But apparently, someone was here.
A deep bass voice echoed in the empty basement.
『Young Craft, what brings you here?』
Where the caged sword had been, a man now stood. In a loose suit without a tie, hands in pockets, he shot her a crooked glance.
Pastel's jaw dropped.
A, a person.
Black hair, red eyes.
A real human?
"Whoa."
Is this what meeting a compatriot abroad feels like?
She rushed to the bars.
"What's your name?!"
『Name? Listen.』
The man frowned. He approached the bars and reached out. Lightning flashed as his hand touched. Skin burst open.
Blood splattered Pastel's cheek.
The man's hand gripped the bars hard, ignoring the repulsion. Lightning crackled fiercely. Blood ran down the bars.
『Young Craft, come to mock me too?』
His red eyes glared.
『I am the Great Demon Demonius. The being your family betrayed and sealed in this sword. Once freed, I'll hunt every Craft and tear them apart one by one—an ancient vengeful spirit.』
The demon exhaled harshly, suppressing emotion.
Then he released the bars. Lightning stopped. The wound dispersed like smoke and healed.
『So go suckle at your mother's breast some more. Don't poke around dangerous places.』
The demon walked back to his spot.
Silence fell.
Pastel wiped the blood splatter from her cheek. Her finger came away red.
The suited demon waved dismissively, like a weary office worker telling her to scram.
Pastel beamed.
Wow.
So nice to kids.
She plastered herself to the bloody bars.
"Demon sir! Demon sir! Do you know how to not die to swords? How to cleave armor in one stroke? Or rip steel with your hands?!"
There had to be some fantastic, great solution.
The demon looked baffled.
『Did my words go in one ear and out the other?』
"Ah! I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Pastel Love Craft. Call me Pastel!"
The demon's face twisted.
『Pastel?』
The demon stormed forward, glaring with clear hostility unlike before.
『An heir who knows my story comes here for games? Is killing off heirs that easy for this generation's Crafts? Your mother was repulsed by it all. Yet here you are, the victor—proof of your repulsive bloodline.』
Pastel's eyes widened.
"You know my mother?"
『Intimately.』
The demon grinned wickedly.
『I know she's first on my list to rip apart. Right before your eyes.』
Ooh?
Dazed, Pastel corrected one fact.
"Mother's already passed away."
The grinning demon froze.
『What, what?』
Confused, the demon averted his gaze. Moments later, he looked back.
『Fine, then I'll kill your father before your eyes. That sanctimonious fool must be acting head, right?』
"Father sold off the assets for a quick buck and vanished. Probably skipped town after his score."
Total marriage scammer.
『Uh...』
Pastel smooshed against the bars.
"Do you know how to not die to swords? How to cleave armor in one stroke? Or rip steel with your hands?!"
The demon's eyes wavered.
His red gaze finally took in the girl's grubby state.
Messy hair, wrinkled clothes.
『You... how old are you?』
"Thirteen!"
『No.』
The demon was speechless.
Ka-pow.
The demon was open to real talk now!
Yay!
"Demon contract?!"
Finally, her life cheat?
『The world isn't a fairy tale. I'll teach you swordsmanship. Train yourself.』
Ah.