Chapter 174
Chapter 174
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: Exposed to the Sunlight #3
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"Here’s the key. Do you mind if I don’t accompany you?"
"That’s fine."
"He’s a dangerous man. You never know what he might do, so be careful."
I dismissed the guard who offered to come along and headed to the basement alone.
Somewhere in Arc. In some underground place inaccessible to ordinary folk, there was a sturdy, solidly built prison.
A prison where wayward heroes or heinous criminals awaiting the church’s judgment were locked away. A space built in the endless depths below ground, with no telling how many floors down it went.
It bore the terrifying name of Mu-geun, meaning endless hell. But in reality, they didn’t subject the prisoners to unreasonable torture or abuse.
For those imprisoned, there was only the excruciating boredom of a lightless cell, with no clue when release might come.
—Light.
—Someone’s come in.
The prisoners behind the bars turned their attention to me as I entered the pitch-black prison, sunk in silence. They looked like deep-sea anglerfish lunging toward the only source of light.
—Cute one.
—Heh heh, come here!
They sought change to their monotonous prison life from me, an outsider.
Their bodies were all bound tight with iron chains, sturdy shackles, and manacles, but even I felt a chill at the sight of their fierce faces slamming against the bars.
Most of those locked up here were death row inmates or the equivalent.
—Boring.
—Say something. What year is it out there? What season? What’s the weather like? No one tells us anything here. Heh heh.
—I’m innocent...!
Soon, shouts erupted from all sides like madmen. True to its name, it really was hellish. With that thought, I arrived at the sector marked by the guard.
0-0.
Here it is.
Before my eyes was a man wrapped head to toe in chains. A man with dark, piercing eyes, slumped in the corner of his cell, his whole body bandaged.
Swoosh.
He lifted his head to look at me. His face, illuminated by the dim torchlight, was wrapped in bandages, making it hard to read his expression.
Unlike the others, whose minds had cracked from the darkness and tedium, his eyes seemed calm. Even more serene than when he roamed free outside.
He wouldn’t be the type to speak first. I knew that well. So I decided to greet him lightly and inquire after his well-being.
"You seem remarkably composed in this hellish prison."
"......"
The man was taciturn. In the original story, he was the type who never spoke more than necessary.
Time wasted on idle chatter was better spent killing another villain—that was his charm. And everyone loved that intensity.
Not anymore, though.
Anyway.
A casual greeting alone wouldn’t loosen his tongue, it seemed.
But that was fine. In some ways, I knew this man better than Aira did. He was the protagonist of the story I knew, and I’d immersed myself in it deeply enough.
I had plenty of cards to play.
Then, in a voice rusty as corroded iron, he gave a curt response.
"Pri-son. It’s not these stones, walls, or darkness."
"Is that so."
"I like it here. Plenty of time to sort my thoughts. No noisy comrades yapping orders. Peaceful time. So, what’s your reason for disturbing my peace?"
Rustle.
The man rose to his feet. He slowly approached me. No matter how formidable he was, bound in chains behind bars, he couldn’t touch me.
So I faced him boldly.
"I’ve come here as the proxy of the queen you attacked. Why did you assault a nation’s queen? You’ll face the ultimate punishment because of it."
"Is that right. A queen. I had no idea."
"So you didn’t know. Figures. That’s just who you are."
It all made sense now. That was his character.
He killed nobles, royals, slave traders, monsters—anyone—delivering the catharsis ordinary folk couldn’t. No need for convoluted political backstories or power struggles.
Then the man asked,
"You speak as if you know me well, half-fairy."
At last, he seemed intrigued by me. Sensing the conversation’s momentum shifting my way, I seized the opportunity.
"I probably know you better than you think. I might even have the answers you’re looking for."
"Answers I want? Do I look like I’m seeking answers? I just want quiet. Silent darkness. Don’t take that from me."
"I’m saying I can give you that. You—don’t voices echo in your head?"
"......"
The man fell silent. Probably because I’d uncovered his secret. Just as I said, this man—the Hunter—heard voices in his head.
According to the novel, it was a young woman’s voice, guiding his life like a navigator.
For example, when he killed a goblin, it would tell him how much experience he’d gained.
Yes. It was the Hunter’s unique status window. The reason he had it was a key plot point in the novel.
"Don’t you hear the voice of your sister, who died when you were young, in your head?"
"How do you know that?"
"Don’t you know about me? I’m the Fox Saint, Theo Gospel."
"Theo Gospel..."
"If you lived in Angmar, you’ve at least heard the name. Anyway, I know how to silence the voice in your head."
"Huh huh huh—."
The man burst into laughter at my words. It went on for a while before stopping seconds later. Baring sharp shark-like teeth from beneath the bandages, he said,
"I heard that story recently too. Yeah, you. Now I see you resemble that kid. Could pass for the same person."
"The kid?"
Who would the Hunter call a kid? Not that I knew of anyone. That narrowed it down to one.
"You mean the Guide. Did the Guide say similar things to me to you?"
"......"
The Hunter clammed up. Then he backed into the shadows again, leaning against the corner wall and slumping down.
"I want to rest now. State your business. Visiting hours are almost up."
True enough. Time was running short. So I cut to the chase, skipping the details.
"A duel trial will be held soon. You know about that?"
"I do. Miriam told me. So you’ve come to negotiate?"
"Yes. How about forfeiting this duel? You might find your answers in defeat."
"......"
The Hunter’s demeanor was impassive. Then the guard behind me announced it was time to leave. With no choice, I had to exit the prison.
* * *
My conversation with the Hunter still yielded quite a bit of information.
He had little interest in who Aira was or what kind of woman she was.
And it didn’t seem like he was acting on anyone’s orders. Meaning this incident wasn’t tied to that suspicious Guide.
But I wasn’t so obtuse as to miss the unpleasant conspiracy lurking beneath it all.
My keen half-fairy nose was sensitive enough to detect the scent of plots and rebellions. That guy was just too suspicious to ignore.
The voices in the Hunter’s head were a secret from everyone. Yet that guy knew about it first. What’s his deal?
I’d have to meet him soon and talk. But first, urgent matters. I had no time to rest with so much piling up.
With that in mind, I went looking for Professor Stella.
The duel trial was a week away. I planned to negotiate various things to appoint a champion for it.
But Professor Stella’s lab door was firmly shut, with a note saying, "Will be away for an extended period due to circumstances."
"What the heck."
Where’d she go?
Dust had gathered in front of the lab, suggesting no one had been there recently. Probably quite some time.
As I looked around puzzled, someone called out to me.
"Ahh—! You’re the comrade who gave me cake—!"
It was a red-haired imp wearing an "Assistant" armband. The one wagging his tail excitedly— what was his name again.
"Have you forgotten my name? I am Tartar—!"
"Right, Tartar. You’re Professor Stella’s assistant, aren’t you? Do you know where she went?"
"She left for the merchant guild’s shareholders’ meeting—! No idea when she’ll return, so if you have something to say, tell Tartar here—!"
"No way, really?"
"Really—! I don’t lie to the comrade who gave me cake—!"
She said she wanted to be the champion, and now she’s off somewhere again. What an unpredictable woman.
Tartar explained that a bunch of elves had shown up and dragged Professor Stella away. Probably the Bellhawk family’s doing.
On the way out, Stella had wailed, "Wait, there’s still a way! Let me turn this around!"
Anyway.
My plan to make Stella the champion was ruined. She was useless as an ally. Someday I’d spank her.
So instead, I spanked Elga’s butt with my palm.
Smack.
"Hyak—!"
Elga, rummaging through my dorm fridge, let out a yelp like a cat hit with cold water, then scowled at me.
"What? Wanna die? You just spanked my butt?"
Naturally, Elga got mad at the unprovoked smack.
In her hand was the honey ice cream cone I’d been saving. She’d already taken a few licks, with cream smeared all over her mouth.
Her other hand held chopsticks—probably from devouring the side dishes in my fridge.
Marmar had diligently made a ton of side dishes for my fridge, but Elga had eaten most of them. She scowled again and said,
"Hey, why’d you spank my butt? And no more food? No more of those donggrarangttang from last time?"
"......"
She’s treating it like her own room.
Annoying.
But if I said I did it out of annoyance, she’d blow up even more. So I lied.
"There was a mosquito on your butt, Lady Elga."
"A mosquito?"
"Yeah. Mosquito. But I think I missed it."
"Well, it is mosquito season."
Elga licked the honey and vanilla cream ice cream cone, glancing around.
Then she suddenly thrust her chopsticks at my face. I flinched, thinking she’d poke my eye, but they stopped right at my nose.
"Got it."
Bzzz—
The mosquito’s wings were pinned perfectly to the chopsticks, buzzing away. Her reflexes were inhuman; it was impressive.
"Catching a mosquito with chopsticks. Impressive, Lady Elga."
Pleased by my admiration, Elga licked her ice cream and puffed up proudly.
"This is nothing. I can slice off just a mosquito’s wing with my halberd. Superior body control, that’s all."
"I see. In that case, are you thinking of entering the duel trial as champion?"
At my question, Elga’s eyes narrowed slyly.
"Didn’t you say you’d use a Bellhawk elf as champion?"
"I did, but circumstances changed. You said you wanted to join as champion too, so isn’t this perfect timing?"
"True. But I’ve changed my mind. Better not push myself for a while."
Elga refusing a chance to fight? It was so unexpected I felt dizzy. I thought she’d be perfect for it.
But her next words were even more shocking.
"I think I’m pregnant."