Help Me
Help me.
At the border between Abaddon and the Empire, a luxurious carriage pulled by phantom horses came to a stop. Four figures stepped down from it. Kaede, who had been driving, watched with obvious unease.
“Master, are you truly certain this is wise?”
“We already finished that discussion earlier. Do you want to repeat the mess from the mansion?”
“That’s not what I mean… It’s just that an untrustworthy person has joined the group.”
Kaede shot a blatantly suspicious glare at the silent Alphonse. Evan adjusted his robe and answered.
“This is the optimal lineup. We’re not going to fight. We’re just buying food ingredients.”
Evan’s claim of an “optimal lineup” was slightly misleading. In truth, the absolute best choice would have been for Evan and the coachman to go alone. A lich and Kaede were out of the question. If high-tier undead strolled around in plain sight, buying anything would become impossible. Therefore, Evan—who had been human from birth—and the coachman, who already had frequent dealings with merchants, made the most sense. They could also return the coachman, who had gotten dragged into this by chance, back to the Empire.
However.
—Evan-Evan, where are you going?
—…….
—I want to go too!
There was one idiot who couldn’t be stopped no matter how much you tried, and if that idiot tagged along, another presence naturally followed.
“……”
The last member was Alphonse, who kept his mouth tightly shut and continuously poured prayers over his body, clearly disgusted at having ridden in a carriage driven by the undead.
The reason Rowena couldn’t join the group was simple.
—What part of you makes you think I would send my master outside of Abaddon with you?
It was entirely due to Kaede’s overprotective nature. Of course, Evan did become considerably weaker outside Abaddon since he couldn’t receive the Black Sun’s support. Still, he wasn’t weak enough to lose to a mere archbishop—he wasn’t a cardinal or the pope.
—Letting your guard down invites death, Master. You are a fragile human who would die from a single misplaced sword strike.
The problem was that such words had no effect on Kaede whatsoever. She had openly threatened to follow them even if it meant disobeying orders if both priests went along, so Rowena ultimately remained at the mansion.
“If you cause my master any harm, I will rip your head off even if I must storm the heart of the Holy Kingdom, you filthy heretic.”
At the word “heretic,” Alphonse’s face flushed and twisted as if properly provoked, looking ready to shout something.
“……! …!!”
But his voice reached no one.
Prayer of Silence, was it?
It was a type of holy prayer that prevented not only the user’s voice but even written words from conveying their intent to others. At first glance it seemed closer to a curse, but it was classified as a blessing because the moment it was lifted, the user’s divine power grew in proportion to the time spent under it.
No wonder they’d allow it even if it meant killing him.
In that state, he couldn’t insult Evan even if he wanted to.
“Hehe, it’s a picnic!”
The moment she stepped down from the carriage, Iris tried to dash ahead in excitement. Evan grabbed the back of her neck and stopped her.
“You stay quiet like you promised. If you make noise, wander around pointlessly, or throw a tantrum while we’re there, I’ll leave you behind.”
“Okay! I’ll listen well to Evan-Evan!”
…Why does that fill me with zero confidence?
Evan sighed and pulled the hood that was about to slip off firmly over Iris’s head until it covered her eyes.
“It’s stuffy! I can’t see!”
“Deal with it.”
They had managed to hide her pink hair with a wig, but her sky-blue eyes and natural features couldn’t be concealed, so this was the only solution. Whether because of the overwhelming divine power in her body or the four curses already tangled around her soul, transformation spells simply didn’t work on Iris.
“Let’s go, coachman.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“And you, follow. Maid.”
“……!!!”
Alphonse, now called a maid, thrashed wildly, but Evan paid him no mind.
I just need to buy the ingredients quickly and head back.
. . .
“This is the largest market that opens around these parts.”
Following the coachman’s guidance, they walked for over half a day before finally arriving at a place that gave off the atmosphere of a night market. The types of goods, their quality, and even how they were displayed were completely haphazard. Merchants who had driven carriages across the empty plains or peddlers clustered together in circles, setting up spots to sell their wares.
“It’s not like anyone decided this spot. The nearby villages are all too quiet to set up proper shops, and going around to every single village would take too much time… so naturally, all the merchants gather here. That’s why everyone calls this place…”
“The Whirlpool Market.”
The coachman’s eyes widened.
“You knew about it, sir?”
“…Just happened to.”
Evan gazed at the Whirlpool Market with its swaying orange lanterns, his expression strangely complicated. But the look soon vanished. He tossed a pouch to the coachman.
“Whoa!”
The coachman fumbled several times before finally catching it. He opened the pouch with a sheepish laugh, then his eyes widened again.
“N-no, sir. This isn’t necessary.”
His hands trembled as he tried to return it.
“It’s payment for your trouble.”
“It’s… it’s too much, sir.”
It seemed the coachman had developed the reasonable belief that receiving an abnormally large sum from Evan was dangerous. Wise thinking, but Evan had no intention of giving him any dangerous tasks.
“It includes compensation for the horse and carriage you lost.”
“…Pardon?”
“I heard one of our skeletons failed to control its strength and killed your horse. I’ve raised it as an undead and I’m using it now, but you can’t exactly take that one with you.”
Losing a carriage and horse was devastating to a merchant’s livelihood. Especially for this coachman, who had taken on the job no one else wanted—supplying food ingredients to Abaddon. It meant he was that desperate.
“Go buy a new horse and carriage. I have no intention of walking back while carrying that enormous load.”
Even in the Whirlpool Market, no one would be selling a live horse, but if he offered a good price to a merchant with a two-horse or four-horse carriage, it shouldn’t be impossible to obtain one.
“Th-thank you, my lord!”
“The money should be enough, but if you can’t find a carriage, at least buy some planks and wheels.”
Even if a full carriage was too much, creating a simple cart with magic wouldn’t be difficult if he had the materials. They would still have to walk back, but it was far better than carrying everything on their backs.
“Yes! I’ll keep it in mind! I’ll get a strong one!”
Watching the coachman bow repeatedly in gratitude before running into the market, Evan spoke to Alphonse in a commanding tone.
“Maid. You go with him.”
Alphonse twisted his face and glared, clearly asking why he should, but Evan continued as if it were obvious.
“If that coachman fails to get a horse, I’ll just summon phantom horses. If you want to ride back in a carriage pulled by phantom horses, then stay right here and stand guard.”
“……”
Alphonse ground his teeth furiously before finally stomping after the coachman toward the center of the market.
That man’s face screams ‘noble upbringing,’ so just standing there should help.
If the coachman went alone, he would look like a shabby commoner who had gotten lucky and earned a lot of money. But with Alphonse beside him, he would appear to be a servant attending a foul-tempered noble. And even that small change in impression would stop people from openly overcharging them. Who would risk angering a noble?
Then I suppose I’ll go look at the food ingredients.
The moment he turned around, Evan felt his head throb.
“…Where did she go this time?”
Iris, who had been right beside him when he sent Alphonse off, was nowhere to be seen. And the Whirlpool Market was already chaotic enough.
“Haah.”
Evan removed the ring on his left index finger and offered it as the price.
"Find."
⟨ Trace ⟩
A single gold ring melted into the air and vanished. A white thread visible only to Evan stretched out through the crowd, heading toward the outer edges of the Whirlpool Market. Just how far had she gone in that short time? The thread was quite long.
—Okay! I’ll listen well to Evan-Evan!
As if I’d ever believe those words again.
Evan followed the thread.
. . .
The deeper one went into the Whirlpool Market, the more valuable the goods and the larger the merchant groups became. Toward the outskirts, cheap daily necessities and low-quality items dominated. Peddlers without even donkeys and shabby merchants with ragged tents were the majority. Naturally, public safety grew worse the farther out one went. And beyond even the outskirts lay a den of hyenas—pickpockets targeting leftover ingredients or naive customers’ pockets, and beggars eyeing the discarded trash left by merchants.
“My lord… spare a coin…”
The first hyena slunk forward as if blocking the path. Evan clicked his tongue. It was called begging, but it was closer to robbery. Blocking the path of a young, unguarded-looking commoner. If even the slightest violence was used, they would scream at the top of their lungs to call the outer guards. If you tried to avoid them, they would already have blocked the rear and slowly closed the distance. They led people to think, It’s dirty, but I’ll just give them a coin to make them leave. Then once you started giving money, it was like a shift change—another beggar would appear and repeat the same act.
…This place really hasn’t changed at all.
Evan ignored the beggar and kept walking.
“Come on, my lord… not more, not less, just one coin… hup?!”
The beggar’s hand, reaching out to grab him, froze. He had spotted the flame rising from the tip of Evan’s finger.
“If you don’t want to burn to death, get lost. Or go ahead and scream for the guards while you’re on fire. I wonder if they’d even bother moving for a few dead beggars like you.”
The approaching beggars seemed to realize it wasn’t worth it and opened a path. No matter how much they lived hand-to-mouth, none of them were stupid enough to risk their lives for a single coin.
Just why did the Saintess come all the way out here?
Sighing, Evan followed the trace of the spell. The white thread continued into the most remote corner of the outskirts, inside a half-collapsed tent.
“……”
For a brief moment, the image of the idiot Saintess being tricked by some ignorant thug and suffering something terrible flashed through his mind, but he quickly shook his head.
The Saintess isn’t that much of a fool.
—Hehe, booger!
…She was an idiot. But she wasn’t stupid. And even if such a man existed, Evan fully understood that it was the man, not Iris, who would need to be worried about.
That was why Evan’s steps quickened now—not out of worry, but simply to catch the runaway Iris as quickly as possible for disobeying him.
He flung the tent flap open with enough force to nearly tear it.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing in—”
Evan stopped mid-sentence.
Iris was crying.
“Evan-Evan…”
Kneeling before an already ice-cold corpse, she wore a helpless expression.
“Help me……”