Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Debt Collector (2)
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“What a pathetic bastard. You should be begging for your life, yet here you are, still putting on airs.”
Ollan Demisi wiggled his finger. The three bodyguards drew their swords.
“Make him snap to attention. Don’t kill him, though.”
The bodyguards snickered as they surrounded Demian.
All three were full of openings. They didn’t seem particularly skilled.
That aside, their killing intent was thick and sticky.
It was the kind of killing intent you couldn’t gain from just one or two kills.
“Hey, young master. Before we kill you, want us to show you something rare?”
One bodyguard held his blade right in front of Demian’s face.
A sharp aura coated the blade. The bodyguard shook it in front of Demian, bragging.
“See this? This is aura. Bet you’ve only ever seen it from a distance...”
Demian swung his sword. He drew it upward from below, slashing a diagonal line.
His longsword cleaved through the bodyguard’s neck. The head thudded to the ground.
Even after losing its head, the body stood for a while longer. Eventually, it crumpled to the floor.
No one realized what had happened.
Not even the dead bodyguard.
“What good is letting your guard down with the enemy right in front of you?”
Demian swung his longsword through the air. Blood splattered across the floor.
“Y-You bastard!”
One of the other bodyguards grasped the situation and exploded in rage.
“I-I’ll kill you!”
The bodyguard charged, raising his sword high.
He planned to split Demian’s skull in one go.
Demian swung indifferently.
He first severed the two arms raised overhead. Then sliced the chest. Finally, cut the waist.
Three sword strokes.
The bodyguard hadn’t seen a single one before he met his end.
“Slow and sluggish.”
Demian turned his gaze to the last remaining bodyguard.
The man’s eyes shook wildly.
“U-Uwaaak!”
The bodyguard threw down his sword and turned to flee. He tried to hurl himself through the window.
But Demian kicked off the ground first, brushing past him.
A red line appeared on the bodyguard’s neck. His head fell to the ground.
“If you’re a coward, you never should’ve picked up a sword in the first place.”
Demian said as he turned to Ollan Demisi.
Ollan Demisi was completely dumbfounded.
“N-No way... H-How could the Haksen Viscount’s wastrel... have s-such skill...”
Demian approached Ollan Demisi.
Only then did Ollan Demisi snap out of it and scream.
“U-Uwaak! Aaak!”
Ollan Demisi flailed while seated in his chair. He toppled backward over the backrest.
He thrashed on the floor. He barely propped himself up with his hands.
In that instant, the longsword fell toward his wrist. The blade severed it.
“...Ah.”
Ollan Demisi stared at his shortened wrist in disbelief.
“Aaak! Uwaak! M-My hand! My haaa... Gahk!”
Demian kicked Ollan Demisi in the jaw.
His mouth snapped shut, cutting off the scream. Ollan Demisi clutched his mouth and groaned.
“Shut up. You’re noisy.”
Demian pressed the blade right against Ollan Demisi’s neck.
Ollan Demisi’s face turned ashen.
“D-Demian H-Haksen! N-No, L-Lord Demian!”
Fear of death overpowered the pain. Ollan Demisi prostrated himself before Demian.
“T-This lowly one spoke out of turn, not knowing the value of his own life!”
In that moment, the only thought in Ollan Demisi’s head was survival.
“P-Please spare my life! I beg you like this!”
“No. If you want to live, say something else.”
Demian pressed the blade closer. It nicked the skin, drawing blood.
Ollan Demisi desperately racked his brains.
Thousands of thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant.
“...I-I’ll serve you with all my effort, even up to the Duke’s household!”
Ollan Demisi shouted desperately.
“Smart fellow.”
Only then did Demian withdraw his sword.
* * *
After sending Demian off, Viscount Haksen couldn’t sit still for a moment.
He paced the room in circles, letting out deep sighs.
It wasn’t just Viscount Haksen. His youngest son, Abel Haksen, was doing exactly the same.
“Haa.”
“Haa.”
Father and son sighed in unison. Their expressions matched perfectly, as parent and child should.
“Dear, sit down and rest already. You’ll wear a hole in the floor.”
“Abel, you come sit too.”
Lady Haksen and eldest daughter Luise Haksen said.
Unlike the father and son, the mother and daughter were relaxed, even enjoying tea time.
“Dear, how can I sit and rest when our house might fall?”
“Sister, exactly. With our family’s fate on the line, how can we just sit still?”
To their protests, Lady Haksen and Luise responded calmly.
“Demian said he’d handle it himself.”
“Right. Let’s trust Demian and wait.”
Viscount Haksen and Abel looked incredulous.
“How can you be so relaxed?”
“Sister, you’re really believing what brother said?”
Lady Haksen took a sip of tea. After savoring the aroma, she spoke.
“Has Demian ever stepped up and failed? Never.”
“That worked because Demian has exceptional swordsmanship. But sword skills and negotiation are different.”
Demian certainly had tremendous skill.
But that only applied in actual combat.
In negotiations, where perception and eloquence mattered, it was useless.
“Father, let’s go to brother right now.”
Abel’s words tempted Viscount Haksen.
Yes, they should go help Demian now...
“You said you’d trust Demian, but now you want to interfere?”
“Father, I don’t think that’s wise.”
The mother and daughter’s points made Viscount Haksen flinch.
Saying they’d trust him, then suddenly meddling?
It would completely undermine Demian.
As Viscount Haksen hesitated, the door burst open and Demian entered.
“Father, I’m back.”
The family brightened at Demian’s arrival.
The father especially looked ready to rush over.
“Demian! How did it go? All resolved?”
“Yes, it’s settled. I even got their firm assurance they won’t pursue the debt anymore.”
A bright smile lit Viscount Haksen’s face.
Then a sudden doubt crept in. The outcome was too good.
Not just delaying repayment or reducing the debt—they wouldn’t mention it at all?
“Is that true?”
“Yes, figuring you wouldn’t believe me, I brought the man himself.”
Demian gestured. A man walked in from beyond the door.
He was well-dressed, but his clothes were disheveled, his hair messy, making him look wretched.
“You explain it yourself.”
“Y-Yes!”
At Demian’s words, the man nodded, trembling.
“V-Viscount Haksen, right? P-Pleased to meet you. I’m Ollan Demisi, branch manager of Dash & Cash’s western branch.”
“Y-Yes, but...”
Viscount Haksen was greatly flustered. This was far from what he’d expected.
“You said you won’t pursue the debt... Is that real?”
“Y-Yes, really! From today onward, we won’t bother House Haksen over money matters at all! N-No, we won’t!”
Ollan Demisi shouted loudly. Viscount Haksen’s bewilderment grew.
“What on earth did Demian say to make you agree to that?”
“A-A knight duel is coming up between the Duke’s house and the Marquis’s house! Lord Demian Haksen agreed to participate in it in exchange for settling the debt!”
Viscount Haksen had heard of the duel between the Duke’s and Marquis’s houses.
With gold mines and family honor at stake, it was a crucial duel the Duke couldn’t afford to lose.
“To think he’d propose such terms...”
In other words, Demian was selling his prowess to pay off the debt.
Viscount Haksen had no choice but to accept it.
“Demian... You really handled it alone, just as promised.”
“I told you. Trust me.”
Viscount Haksen looked sheepish. Truthfully, he hadn’t fully trusted Demian.
“Good work. Go rest now...”
Then, something odd caught Viscount Haksen’s eye.
Ollan Demisi’s wrist was bandaged. Blood had seeped through, staining it red.
“...Demian?”
“Yes?”
“Just to check... That wrist—was that your doing?”
“There was a bit of a disagreement during negotiations, so it couldn’t be helped.”
A sudden dizziness hit. Viscount Haksen pressed his forehead.
“Oh, and you should send servants to clean the drawing room.”
“W-Why? What happened now?”
“In resolving the disagreement, I clashed with this guy’s bodyguards.”
Demian mimed slicing his throat with his hand.
“They dirtied up the drawing room a bit.”
Viscount Haksen rubbed his face with both palms.
He took a deep breath, then yelled.
“Demiiiiaan! What have you done thiiiis tiiiime?!”
* * *
Demian explained the details to Viscount Haksen.
At first furious, Viscount Haksen’s reaction completely changed upon hearing Ollan Demisi had insulted Luise.
-What a son of a bitch!
The family restrained the rampaging Viscount Haksen. Thanks to them, Ollan Demisi survived.
-So the debt isn’t fully cleared yet.
Ollan Demisi was just the branch manager. Demian’s real negotiation partner was the Duke.
-Your skills are undoubtedly top-notch, but... I doubt the Duke will deal with you personally.
Viscount Haksen’s worry was natural.
The Duke would surely be surrounded by renowned knights.
To join the duel, Demian would have to surpass them.
-Are you confident?
To Viscount Haksen’s question, Demian nodded without hesitation.
* * *
The next day arrived.
Demian, prepared for travel, stepped outside.
His family and Agnes waited at the territory’s entrance.
“Lady Agnes, thank you for all your help.”
Demian first thanked Agnes.
She hadn’t only prevented war with the Marquis’s house—she’d even healed Victor.
Thanks to the holy magic from the priest in the investigation team, Victor had recovered from his severe injuries.
“It was only what I should do.”
Agnes brushed off Demian’s gratitude.
“The investigation is mostly wrapped up, so we plan to head back the day after tomorrow.”
Demian was leaving today. This was their last meeting.
“I pray the blessings of the divine be upon your journey, Lord Demian.”
Agnes made the holy sign. Demian mimicked her.
“Oh, and if you change your mind...”
“No interest in becoming a Holy Knight.”
Demian cut her off sharply, anticipating it.
Agnes’s face fell naturally.
“Then fare well on your journey.”
Next, Demian greeted his family.
“Demian, take this.”
Mother held something out to him. It was a potion with a gold rim.
“It’s a high-grade potion I luckily obtained before. They say it can heal even life-threatening wounds instantly. Keep it safe and use it if you’re in danger.”
Mother’s explanation dragged on.
But none of it registered with Demian.
He’d seen this potion before—when he’d killed his brother on Archlich Dorgo’s orders.
Clutching her decapitated son’s body, Mother had poured it on.
Her screams and resentment still rang in his ears.
“...”
Unwelcome memories stirred buried emotions.
Hatred for Dorgo, rage at his powerless self, despair at the horrific reality.
They crept in, dominating Demian’s heart.
“Demian?”
Mother’s voice snapped him back. He tucked the potion bottle carefully into his bosom.
“...Thank you. I’ll make sure to return it when I come back.”
Demian finally looked at Luise and Abel.
Sister wore a worried expression. Abel avoided his gaze.
“Demian, take good care of yourself. Got it?”
Demian nodded, then turned to his brother.
Abel studiously avoided his eyes.
“Abel.”
“...What.”
“Let’s practice archery when I get back.”
The out-of-nowhere remark puzzled Abel.
Demian whispered in Abel’s ear.
“Doesn’t the young lady of Copperhead Viscountcy love hunting? You’ll need to shoot well to impress her.”
Abel’s face flushed beet red.
“H-How do you, uh, know th-that...”
As a mercenary in his previous life, Demian had constantly gathered info on House Haksen.
Among it was how Abel had proposed to Copperhead Viscountcy’s young lady and failed.
He’d even been greatly insulted by the viscount for being poor and low-status.
“I have my ways.”
Leaving flustered Abel behind, Demian approached the carriage.
“Y-You’ve arrived.”
Ollan Demisi opened the carriage door with his one remaining hand.
“Spacious carriage.”
Demian peered inside and remarked.
“I-I can’t stand uncomfortable rides, so I splurged on a good one.”
“With a carriage like this, I can look forward to the trip. Right?”
“O-Of course! N-Not just the carriage—I’ll attend to every comfort personally.”
Ollan Demisi forced a smile.
“Good attitude.”
Demian patted Ollan Demisi’s head and boarded the carriage.
Victor quickly followed Demian inside.
The carriage rolled down the main road.