Chapter 103
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Repayment
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“—Please, tell him you can’t go, even now.”
That he would go to a 3-star Labyrinth.
After Dion's bombshell announcement.
The key figures of Crouching Dragon Manor—from retainers to vassals and servants—had all tried to dissuade and persuade him, but to no avail.
In a fief, the lord was king.
And they had neither the power nor the means to overturn Dion's decision.
In the end, they had no choice but to accept Dion's orders with a mixture of resignation and weary acceptance.
The following directives, which were less decided upon through discussion and more unilaterally handed down from Dion, were as follows.
1. Withered Tree Manor is to be left in Nakrang Fortress. The expedition will be conducted using only Crouching Dragon Manor.
2. All retainers and slave soldiers, with the exception of Parsha, will accompany the expedition.
3. The dark elf clan will temporarily relocate to Withered Tree Manor and, under Parsha's command, focus on restoring the soon-to-arrive Soryujang and preparing for war.
4. Write your wills in advance.
Was this an expedition?
Or a suicide squad?
A series of directives that seemed to not just crush morale before they even departed, but actively encourage them to flee.
But in the end, they followed his orders with heavy hearts.
The Vault Keeper had no choice, Naru was forced to go, and Orr Kai and the other slave soldiers simply accepted it as their master being their master.
The cousins of the Hara clan, who had the right to refuse, couldn't back down due to their rivalry.
And so, from that moment on, they were busy, either preparing for the expedition or writing their wills.
And it was only natural.
That among them, the busiest person was Arsha.
As the steward of Crouching Dragon Manor, the volume of work she had to hand over, managing the fief in Dion's stead, was truly murderous.
“What do you mean?”
But at this very moment.
Arsha had put a stop to all of it.
Because the dark elf maid who had suddenly stormed into her office had interrupted her work.
“I will be going on this expedition, so forget the handover and handle things here.”
“You intend to join the expedition in your condition?”
“Even with one unusable arm, I am more capable than you, my lady.”
“…Perhaps you are right.”
Even with her arm in a splint, Parsha’s declaration was unwavering.
Arsha calmly acknowledged it.
An Aura user.
A multiple Awakened.
And a personal maid of the Unlight family.
Parsha, who had been through thick and thin, was a formidable warrior, one who would be hard-pressed to find an equal among high-ranking Awakened.
In the Labyrinth, a den of inhuman monstrosities.
Especially in the living hell of a 3-star Labyrinth, she was far more likely to be of help than Arsha.
“But Parsha, this has already been decided.”
“A decision that can be overturned anytime the Young Master wishes it.”
“…Are you telling me to persuade him?”
“You have the Young Master's favor, my lady.”
“…”
Unlike the slaves or retainers who had to follow orders unconditionally, she was, for all intents and purposes, Dion's concubine.
And above all, Dion was always kind to her.
Whether by calmly explaining.
Or desperately pleading.
Or even, by cunningly deceiving him.
Do whatever it takes to have him take Parsha instead, or better yet, cancel the expedition altogether.
After saying as much with a blank face.
Parsha continued sharply.
“You must know that it is the best choice, even for the Young Master’s sake. Therefore…”
“—That is enough.”
…No, she intended to continue.
Had the graceful dark elf, who had been listening in silence, not softly cut her off.
“Parsha, you certainly have the right to advise my husband.”
“…”
“But telling a mere concubine to persuade him, even if it means deceiving him, is a clear overreach of your authority.”
“…”
“Do not forget that you are, in the end, his maid.”
She may have raised her like a nanny.
Taught her like a teacher.
And protected her like a guard.
But her station was, and always would be, a personal maid.
Though she may have been granted more liberties than an ordinary maid, she could not and should not cross that line.
Hearing those firm words, which allowed no rebuttal in their calmness.
After a long silence, Parsha spoke, her voice even colder than before.
“So, you’re saying you're determined to follow the Young Master into the jaws of death?”
“If my husband wishes it, it is a wife's duty to follow.”
“That is not duty. It is a suicidal act born from a refusal to think.”
“If you truly believe so, then you should be persuading my husband directly, not me.”
“…”
“Or is there some reason you cannot?”
That no matter what she said.
Dion would never listen.
Was that why she couldn’t say it?
Staring straight into Arsha’s serenely calm golden eyes, Parsha bit her lip for a moment.
Finally, she spun around.
“If you’re so eager to die, then do as you please.”
*Slam!*
Perhaps because her emotions were running high.
Parsha stormed out, slamming the door shut.
The graceful elf who had been silently watching her daughter’s retreating back let out a soft sigh.
Then, a voice was heard.
“Hmm, it seems Parsha is quite angry.”
“…I can only apologize for showing you such an unpleasant sight.”
“What’s there to apologize for? I expected this much from the start.”
Having heard Parsha’s voice with his heightened senses as an Awakened.
The boy, who had deliberately approached the window and listened silently to their conversation.
Dion entered through the window.
He smiled brightly at Arsha, who had risen from her seat and slightly bowed her head.
“Besides, I like people who nag me relentlessly like Parsha.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes. Obedient ones aren't bad, but then there’d be no one to point out my mistakes or faults.”
It would be a problem if everyone was like that.
But when he was pulling a crazy stunt like this, he needed at least one person to be a rational check on him.
Though he had no intention of stopping his plan.
He praised Parsha's judgment in trying to stop him, even by using her own mother.
Watching the boy, who was far more mature than his age, Arsha felt a slight sense of relief.
“You are truly wise.”
“Wise? Not really. I just learned from being nagged a lot.”
From his second life.
For a moment, he wore a nostalgic expression, recalling the Voice that had always spoken harsh truths, yet had always guided him accurately toward the best path.
Dion then asked casually, as if it had just occurred to him.
“But are you really okay with this? I think Parsha will resent you for it.”
“Even so, there is no need for you to be so considerate, my lord.”
For Parsha to react so emotionally to something like this was proof of her immaturity.
And ultimately, a result of her own inadequate teachings.
Her tone was utterly calm.
And thus, left no room for compromise.
Asserting herself with the graceful demeanor of a flower on a cliff, she slowly raised a hand.
“Besides…”
And as her long, slender fingers touched her neck.
*Rustle.*
The white bandage came undone.
Revealing an elegant curve.
A neck as long and slender as a doe's, yet so smooth it softly reflected even the candlelight.
And for that reason, the fang marks in its center stood out all the more.
Arsha finished her sentence quietly.
“—Because when you are thirsty, my lord, I am the one who is more helpful.”
“True enough.”
And so…
Although she had been more grievously injured than anyone else in the fight against Lar Arga.
Thanks to her various recovery-related Traits, and above all, his ‘Devotion,’ she had recovered the fastest.
Still, before the boy whose wounds had not yet fully healed, Arsha bared her neck.
And as if accustomed to the gesture.
Dion naturally wrapped an arm around her waist.
He buried his nose in the nape of her neck, savoring the sweet, flower-like scent of her skin.
Then, he suddenly whispered in her ear.
“Well, to be honest, I wouldn't mind receiving 'help' from Parsha.”
*Flinch.*
“Why? You don’t like that idea?”
Was it because of his unexpected words?
Or his ticklish breath?
Seeing her long ears tremble slightly, betraying her inner turmoil, Dion smiled playfully.
But the turmoil was brief.
“How could that be? If you desire it, my lord, a mere maid must naturally offer her body. However…”
“However?”
Calmly.
Gracefully.
In the midst of replying to Dion with sincere agreement, not just empty words.
*Slither.*
Arsha raised her slender arms.
And wrapped them around Dion’s neck, pulling him closer.
Her soft thighs pressed so closely against her husband's legs that they went beyond mere contact, nestling between them.
She lowered her head slightly, and this time, it was her turn to bring her lips close to his ear, breathing a soft warmth into it.
“—Surely you prefer me to such a blunt daughter, don’t you?”
“…”
And so…
To the question from his concubine, who was as sublime as a flower on a cliff.
Yet held a fragility that suggested she could be broken at any moment, luring bees and butterflies with her sweet scent.
To his devastatingly beautiful concubine, Dion did not answer with words.
*Pfft.*
He let out a short laugh.
He simply pulled her waist in deeper and opened his mouth slightly.
The moment she felt the firm touch of his protruding fangs between his soft lips on her neck, her body stiffened.
*Plunge.*
“Hnngh…!”
She threw her head back.
Letting out a breathy sigh.
Her slender arms trembled.
Arsha hugged Dion even tighter.
As if fulfilling her duty, so that he could taste her just a little more clearly.
Or as if clinging to him unconsciously, driven by a pleasure that only grew stronger the more she tried to suppress it.
Or…
…As if to hide the hot tears of ecstasy that trickled from the corners of her eyes.
And so, to her husband, who now possessed her entirely—this woman who had raised her daughter, carrying her on her back since she was a child—she offered herself.
***
“Damn it all!”
*Bang!*
The large rat-man slammed the cup he was holding onto the table.
He was the head of a criminal organization that ruled the back alleys of The Drunken Goblet, and a high-ranking Awakened of commoner birth.
More importantly, he was the guild master of the Deformed City's Thieves' Guild, infamous for his cunning and cruelty.
Trickie ground his teeth.
“How the hell did things get so twisted?!”
He lamented.
There hadn’t been a problem, not until he’d joined hands with the Dogwiryeon.
It was common practice for a guild as broad and shallow as his, lacking in military might, to ally with an established power.
The Dogwiryeon, in particular, had been a long-time partner of the Thieves' Guild since the time of his predecessors, several generations before he became guild master.
As long as he didn't commit the suicidal act of suddenly cutting ties, they could mutually benefit and profit greatly.
“The White-Masked Young Master! If that little bastard hadn't gone crazy and run rampant, none of this would have happened!”
…Yes.
Not until the White-Masked Young Master suddenly appeared.
At first, he too had considered the White-Masked Young Master a mere puppet set up by Urk, the lord of Nakrang Fortress, to keep the Dogwiryeon in check.
That was why he had used the rumors spreading from Nakrang Fortress to secretly incite thieves to attack him.
But as the days went by.
The situation grew stranger.
Capturing and selling off all the thieves who came at him was just the beginning.
He hunted down wanted criminals indiscriminately and brought down the Kahul family just for kidnapping a slave.
The White-Masked Young Master continued to commit unimaginable acts, disrupting the order of the Deformed City, and with each incident, the Thieves' Guild's position worsened.
“When that brat charged headfirst into the Dogwiryeon, I thought it was finally over…”
That was why.
He had blatantly ignored the White-Masked Young Master’s request for information on the Dogwiryeon.
And why he had rejoiced when he finally picked a fight with them.
No matter how talented he was.
Or how famous he had become.
For a mere up-and-comer to confront the Dogwiryeon was, to anyone's eyes, a clear-cut act of suicide.
But…
“I spoon-fed them everything, and they still screwed it up, and now they're blaming me? Does being a noble mean you can do whatever you want?!”
The White-Masked Young Master was far from dead.
On the contrary, the leader of the Dogwiryeon had fallen into a trap, been injured, and retreated.
The lord of Nakrang Fortress had publicly announced the fact and begun gathering an alliance to subjugate the Dogwiryeon.
The situation had turned for the worst.
Not only was the Thieves' Guild forced to bear the full responsibility for this failure.
They had also been threatened: if they failed to obstruct Nakrang Fortress’s information campaign, there would be consequences.
“Those idiots at the Guild! Siding with a brat like that over the Dogwiryeon! No wonder they can't escape their pathetic state, being so bad at reading the situation!”
His resentment eventually turned toward the Guild itself.
If he could have used the Guild's power, he could have crushed not only that brat but Nakrang Fortress as well long ago.
Though ridiculed as insignificant and base in noble society, the Guild's hidden power was anything but.
That was how it had exerted its influence over the entire Demonic Province for so long.
But because the Guild had sided with the White-Masked Young Master, he was the one taking all the damage.
He couldn’t help but be furious.
The problem was, he couldn't openly defy the Guild either.
And so, filled with that rage, he set down his empty cup.
*Clink.*
“Another drink.”
“You’ve had a lot, boss. How about you call it a night?”
“Shut it!”
*CRACK!*
After slamming his fist on the table hard enough to crack it.
Trickie glared at the bartender and twisted his lips.
“What? Do I look like a driver who's lost his divine beast to you?”
“…Of course not.”
“Then shut your mouth and pour me a drink.”
Trickie sneered at the bowing bartender.
Right.
It didn't matter if he was scorned.
Or if his subordinates were discontent.
In the end, all that mattered in this world was money and power.
And for a high-ranking Awakened like him with plenty of money, power was easy to come by.
If things got too bad, he could just take the money he'd made as a lackey for the Dogwiryeon and skip town.
As powerful as the Dogwiryeon was, they were still a local power in the Deformed City; outside this city, their influence was almost nonexistent.
‘Hmph, just you wait. I might run, but I’ll be damned if I don’t see that White-Masked Young Master bastard die first.’
And so, with a relaxed mind, Trickie reached for the drink the bartender was pouring.
Or rather, he was about to.
“However, it seems a waste to give more alcohol to a man who is already dead.”
“…What?”
The words were utterly incomprehensible.
He couldn’t understand their meaning.
Or perhaps, he didn't want to. As he blinked in confusion.
“Cough…!”
Trickie suddenly felt a churning pain in his stomach and let out a violent cough.
…A cough mixed with black blood.
“P-Poison?”