Hyde, Obstructed by the Black Knights #3
"You piece of shit!"
Bang—!
Nicholas, a man with long black hair, spat out a curse. The wild rumor that had begun circulating that afternoon had put a crack in his jet-black pearl of a reputation.
"They're saying I'm some playboy who goes after married women? Rust, you son of a bitch!"
The novel NTR had started making the rounds through the streets of Palchea. Among its cast was a man named Nicalas, living a thoroughly trashy life. Nicholas had not the slightest doubt that the name had been lifted straight from his own.
"That bastard Rust dares to smear me? Me, a man who chases married women?!"
He could not contain his rage. Beside Nicholas, whose fists were clenched so tight they trembled, the mound of bedding on the bed rose higher still—and a naked woman pushed herself up on her elbows.
"Sir Nicholas, I read it too, and it was quite the entertaining story. That Nicalas who appears in it—doesn't he seem exactly like you? Even the part where he hands a flower to a woman standing right next to her husband on their first meeting is the same."
She was right. Nicholas called it a smear, but Nicalas's behavior mirrored his own. That fact left him deeply unsettled.
Is that man Rust actually omniscient or something? After I meet women, I always clean things up neatly. How the hell did he find out?
Nicholas liked married women. Was there anything more enjoyable than taking what belonged to someone else? The reason a nobleman's son like him had gone out into the streets and become a bandit was precisely because snatching other people's things was so much fun he couldn't help himself. If he hadn't been thoroughly beaten and captured by Roland of the Six Knights, he would still be out there robbing people.
"You fucking bitch. Did you blab about everything? About us screwing around?"
Nicholas struck the baron's wife—whose name he couldn't even remember—hard across the cheek.
Slap!
A sharp crack, and the woman's cheek swelled red. She soon spoke, her tear-streaked face shining.
"I would never! I even told my husband I was traveling with my childhood friends—all women! And while we're on the subject, I want to divorce that man already. When can I get the divorce? He keeps demanding I sleep with him and it's driving me crazy! Making up excuses to refuse him is so exhausting—"
Pontina, the wife of a rural baron, slipped her arms around Nicholas's waist.
"I want to divorce my husband as soon as possible and remarry you. If he won't grant the divorce, I'd even be fine slipping him poison at night and killing him. Then nearly all the property would be mine. Heh heh—."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Gemini. It's not time yet. Tomorrow at the trial, I can snare a real big catch. Once that goes well, I'll come get you for sure."
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
Of course he was just saying that. Nicholas had no interest whatsoever in marriage.
"Besides, my name isn't Gemini—it's Pontina!"
"Ah, was it? Just kidding, just kidding."
"Eek! That was such a funny joke!"
Idiot bitch.
To Nicholas, every woman was a slave and a flesh toilet.
Flesh toilet. That bastard Rust really does have a gift for coining words. Women are all flesh toilets. Dogs who wag their tails no matter how many times you slap them or ignore them.
With his handsome face and a certain dangerous air, Nicholas had seduced any number of women. If he treated them even a little kindly, they would say, "Oh my! I thought you were a bad man, but you're not!" and fall completely for his unexpected side. Of course, even without the kindness, women fell easily for his good looks. And once they had fallen, no matter how rottenly he behaved or how much money he squeezed out of them, they kept wagging their tails at him. Pontina was one of those women.
Pontina thought to herself:
This man might be a bad person, but at least I know his good side. I can change him. Lately he's been rough because of how busy and hard things are, but…
Pontina. An uneasy feeling rose in her, and she asked to confirm his affection.
"Nicholas, we really are getting married, right?"
"Of course we are."
Nicholas would have to marry someone eventually.
But not you, you non-virgin slut. A whore who rolls around with other men while she's still got a husband. The way she's begging for marriage, this one's run her course. Time to dump her.
Nicholas loved stealing married women, yet at the same time he felt disgust toward them. Did a truly chaste wife even exist in this world? That a man who loved women so much could also despise and hate them—even he found the irony remarkable.
They say if you meet too many women you get sick of them and end up a damned homosexual. Am I heading that way? No—I'm not sick of every woman.
Nicholas smirked as he recalled the experience he'd had that day.
Psyche. They say that woman is still a virgin even after getting married. I offered her a flower and she wouldn't even take it. She would have refused no matter how many times I tried. I know that well. To think a woman like that actually exists in this world—
That beautiful, lovely face floated before him. It kept shimmering in his mind's eye. He felt he finally understood why every man praised that name.
The one next to her, Milione, was damn gorgeous too. But they say that bitch already got raped by Rust. I'm not picking up leftovers. Psyche, though—she's like a path of untrodden snow. Too good a woman to waste on a softie like Hyde.
Pontina lying beside him was a beautiful woman for a baron's wife from some rural backwater. That was why he had taken her. Crushing a nobleman's wife under him, cursing her, spitting on her, or pissing on her always filled his need for conquest and was endlessly entertaining. But after Nicholas had seen Psyche, Pontina's looks seemed to lose their luster. Freckles on her face, soft flesh around her waist, and she was ignorant. Constantly seeking confirmation of his affection and being a nuisance only docked more points.
Above all, she's a piece of trash who cheats on her husband with another man. I may not have room to talk since I seduced her—but isn't the worst one the woman who gets seduced while she still has a husband?
In that sense, Psyche was a treasure Nicholas had discovered. How wonderful it would be if the woman beside him right now were Psyche.
If it were me, I wouldn't leave her a virgin for a second. I'd make her cry out every night. And that's exactly what's going to happen. Stealing women from soft-hearted fools like Hyde is easy.
Heh heh heh—.
Nicholas resolved to take Psyche for himself. And the woman beside him, clinging and cooing, had become a nuisance.
"Pontina, I've decided we can't get married after all."
"What?"
"You're not a virgin. I swore I'd only marry a virgin."
"How can you say that? You were the one who demanded it—my first night wasn't with my husband, it was with you! Back when you came to Volondo! It was my wedding day! I was a virgin then!"
"Ah, was that so? Don't know, forgot. Anyway, I'm bored of you now, so let's end this."
"Th-that can't be—"
Sob—.
Tears welled in Pontina's eyes. Seeing that, a sadistic urge bloomed in Nicholas's heart. She was a plain woman compared to Psyche, but she was the one right there beside him.
"Just kidding. Come here, I'll hold you. Calora, that was a funny joke, right?"
"It was completely hilarious!"
What a fucking idiot.
One more round wouldn't hurt. Plenty of things would change by tomorrow anyway.
"It feels far too cruel. This is clearly Rust's scheme. Is he trying to dismantle the Black Knights? He's turning the people's hearts away from them."
In the inn room where the oil lamp flickered, Psyche spoke in a voice heavy with worry and concern. The events of the day seemed to be keeping her from sleep.
"Hyde, those stories written in NTR—they're slander, aren't they?"
"No, not necessarily. Some of those stories are quite likely true. The Black Knights commit crimes fairly often, after all."
The Black Knights. I had not the slightest doubt that they were bad men. Criminals who had repented and started new lives? As if that could exist.
Of course, it did exist. Exactly one person in the entire world. Me. Hyde. No one else. I would stake my life on it.
Want to know why? Because ever since humanity committed original sin, people have been placed in a state where they cannot help but sin. They commit new sins every single day, you know?
As I keep saying, aside from me—Hyde—there is no perfect person in this world. If there is one, it would only be someone like Psyche.
In my heart, the Black Knights were already a band of wicked villains, and gathering information about them hadn't even been difficult. At the heretic chapel, when I asked about the Black Knights' misdeeds, the stories poured out.
Even in the human-rights society of the twenty-first century, rehabilitated and reintegrated criminals still cause problems again. So how could criminals be easily reformed in this wicked world of darkness? Absolutely not. People simply keep quiet about the harm because they fear Roland and his Black Knights, who hold absolute status.
But that ends tomorrow.
"And in my opinion, that man Nicholas is especially vile."
The bastard who had set his sights on Psyche. Clearly a piece of trash who couldn't even speak properly. A petty, small-minded man if ever there was one. Probably a pervert who took pleasure in stealing what belonged to others. A psychopath who treated women carelessly, like objects, and got off on it.
How could anyone treat women—the Creator's greatest masterpiece—that way? It made even me angry.
And on top of that, a double-standard psychopath who got sick of women and said things like, "I'm not a virgin myself, but for a marriage partner, a virgin is still best." The odds of that were extremely high. There had to be a reason he was targeting Psyche.
How did I know? Because the thoughts of small-minded men all run along the same tracks. Great-minded men like me can perfectly deduce what small-minded men are thinking.
"Hyde, are you saying Sir Nicholas is a 'bad man' like Nicalas in the novel? If that's truly the case, then I… there's something I don't understand. Why do women fall for these so-called bad men?"
Psyche, kinder and purer than anyone, seemed unable to grasp the situation. Fortunately, someone well-equipped to explain was right beside us.
"Hey, Milli."
"What."
Milione, who had been lying on the bed with a pillow clamped over her ears, slowly sat up. Her expression looked thoroughly irritated. I was irritated too. Only one room, so the three of us had to sleep together. Meaning I had to sleep on the floor.
Still, because I was a kind person, I specially addressed Milione.
"What do you think the charm of a bad man is? You've met Rust. When you get down to it, couldn't he be called a bad man too?"
I, Hyde, was a kinder man than anyone. A church-boy type, so to speak. But as Rust, I deliberately played the bad man. That way, when people looked at Rust, they would never think of me—Hyde.
Milione only snorted.
"A bad man—you think you can describe Rust with a lukewarm word like that? That bastard is the kind of human garbage you stomp into the dirt, then a homeless guy picks up and vomits back out."
Son of a bitch. Asking was my mistake.
Might as well just sleep. Better to conserve my strength for tomorrow.
Time passed in that fashion.
Morning. The Black Knights led the prisoners from the Grande Nunnery toward the plaza of the city of Veneto. A great crowd had already gathered in the square.
A Witch Trial. It was the greatest show one could see in this medieval age. The World Cup final, so to speak. Of course everyone came to watch.
"Very well! I, Onduras, confessor-priest and inquisitor of the Black Knights, shall preside over this trial! Bring forth the sinners!"
Onduras. He was a silver-badge bishop who wore a silver cross around his neck. Bald. His face was covered in scars. He was both a priest and a knight—most inquisitors were.
"Then let the trial begin—"
"I object!!!"
Swoosh—.
I rose from my seat. Watching me, Milione let out a long sigh.
"This guy. Here we go again."