Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Flower of Evil, Aira #7
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Thinking about it, it was a common occurrence.
Strangers I didn't know, or minor cogs I'd barely brushed past, invoking my name to boost their own prestige.
They went around peddling my name for their petty crimes.
No matter how hard I tried, my reputation never improved.
"Come here! Let's eat together, drink tea, and live happily ever after!"
"P-Please let me go! My arm hurts!"
"I'm the Right Hand. The right arm of Head Gardener Theo! You can imagine what'll happen to your family if you defy my orders—!?"
"...Ughhh."
So, what happens then? I'm curious too.
"Come on!"
"Nooo...! You're ugly—I mean—! Kyaa!"
The commotion grew louder.
—Someone stop him! If he drags me back to his place like this, who knows what'll happen!
—Last time it was the inn next door!
—How are we supposed to deal with one of Theo's lackeys? If we get involved, the sparks'll fly our way too....
Hmm. As expected, the arrows of public sentiment were starting to point at me, the one standing idly by.
Sure, aggressively hitting on a woman could be overlooked, but impersonating my acquaintance was a grave offense.
Guys like that were hammering nails into my coffin, using me as their death flag.
I'd taken the day off, so I didn't want to deal with work if possible.
But if I let this slide, people's anger might coalesce into arrows aimed at me.
I figured it best to resolve it quickly, so I stood, parted the crowd slowly, and approached them.
"That's enough."
"Who the hell are you?"
The man scowled fiercely.
"Who are you to boss me around? Didn't you hear who I am?"
The collector who'd declared himself the Right Hand clearly hadn't expected to be stopped in this dingy, chaotic back-alley tavern.
"I said I'm the right arm, but you can't even recognize your master's voice?"
"What—?"
I pulled back the robe from my head.
Swoosh.
Revealing my identity here meant I couldn't sneak into this tavern for intel anymore. But there was no choice.
—Who’s that guy?
—Dunno. What's going on?
I felt the crowd stir greatly. They probably couldn't grasp the situation. Plenty didn't recognize me as Theo.
Most folks here were commoners who’d live and die without glimpsing a high official's face.
Unfortunately, the collector in front of me was no different.
"Who the fuck are you? Never seen your face before. You know who I am? Huh? Already got a knife scar on that mug? Want another one?"
Whoosh.
The collector drew a dagger from his belt.
It was like a letter opener for breaking seals on document pouches, but sharp enough as a weapon.
Shiver.
A sudden chill crept up my spine.
Am I seriously about to die here?
"If you don't wanna get hurt, scram."
"......"
I backed away from the man, pondering how to handle this. Use my waiting guards?
No, that'd slaughter him outright.
"Theo slaughters man in tavern."
Rumors and headlines would spread like wildfire, stripped of context.
Better ask some questions first.
"If you're truly the right arm of Court Gardener Theo, do you even know what he looks like?"
"Of course! Theo and I eat dinner together—we're like brothers! I'm just a lowly 9th-grade collector, but soon I'll head to the palace!"
Snikt. The man shadowed his face dramatically.
"So if you don't wanna get hurt bad, beat it, kid."
What the—?
He's so confident it's making me look like the liar.
Deluded by his own fabrication? That Repli syndrome thing.
What works best on a guy like this?
Plenty of options came to mind, but against someone wielding authority, matching it with my own was most effective.
Rustle, rustle.
I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out a small metal piece. A badge. Or brooch.
A platinum chess knight-shaped brooch.
I tossed it lightly to the collector Right Hand.
"What's this?"
He caught it with decent reflexes, frowning. But as he examined it closely, his face drained of color—
"H-Huhhh."
Like a deflating balloon, he collapsed to the floor with a whimper.
"If you're my right arm, you'd know what that is, right? Even a lowly collector understands the hierarchy."
It was the knight brooch signifying a royal retainer—the highest platinum grade. One of a kind in the kingdom.
Made solely for me across vast Angmar.
"I-It... How do I know it's real...? A fake, expertly crafted. Yeah, fake. Impostor. They say there're lots of impostors lately!"
"Who'd be crazy enough to forge that?"
I approached the seated man slowly, whispering as I unpinned the iron pawn brooch proudly displayed on his shoulder.
"—You're the one impersonating. Pathetic. Thought royal ears wouldn't reach this filthy hole? We already knew you were peddling my name."
A total lie. First time seeing him today.
"Eek!"
In that moment, the man's face—early forties at best—looked aged past sixty.
Just then.
—Ahh! That's Theo! Theo Gaspel! It's really him! I saw him once before!
—Whoa, for real. Now that you mention it... I saw him too, last time in Monarch City's central square!
Someone behind me shouted. Guess one person in the crowd knew my face.
Like a stone rippling a pond, that shout created waves.
—That guy's the queen's favorite?
—Looks younger than I thought. About my son's age, starting academy this year.
Hearing such talk, the tax collector Right Hand sweated like rain and wept before me.
"R-Really...? No way. Why would Theo be in a dump like this? Impossible. Lies. I just... liked the girl..."
Overwhelmed by stress, had he lost it? Drool flowed, limbs trembled.
Not my sympathy.
Bastard.
I knelt and whispered in his ear.
"Daring to mouth my name? You, trash, as my right arm? You're off to the Wall today."
An astonishing reaction. The man, slumped and spoonless, twisted in horror.
"B-Better execute me, milord! Milord! Not the Wall! You know what happens there! I'd rather lick your boots!"
He prostrated, tongue out, actually licking my shoes in desperation.
Makes sense. The Wall meant rights stripped, guinea pig status. Worse than a clean guillotine.
"Please! Forgive me!"
Disgusting, this guy who'd threatened me with a dagger moments ago clinging now.
"Why pull this crap if you hate the Wall?"
"I'll be your dog for real, milord! Anything, anything you command—just no Wall! Please!"
"Now switch from desk drone to Wall scout. That dagger draw was slick. Survive, and promotions await."
"Eeek! L-Long live Queen Aira! Ro-Rocky Mountains blessed... Beautiful Angmar... Ahh... Lovely hills, my homeland... Clear streams..."
He broke into a hideous anthem—Angmar's national song. Appealing to my patriotism for mercy.
Not the sycophant Theo, but human Lee Sung-eum inside me wavered slightly.
But I couldn't forgive him.
Overlook this, and more fools would test me.
I'd inherit grudges for crimes I didn't commit, straight to the scaffold.
"Someone take this man to the guards. Theo Gaspel orders him beyond the Wall—they'll understand."
Clack, clack, clack.
At my command, the tavern's burly bouncers finally dragged the collector away.
"Gaaah! Mercy! No Wall, eeeeek!"
Watching him scream himself hoarse, I wondered if I'd overdone it.
But the crime was his, not mine.
He should feel guilt, not me.
Why should the victim demanding justice feel sorry for the perp?
Self-flagellation for righteousness was wrong.
As I steeled myself amid murmurs—
—Serves him right. Little shit. Strutting like a pensioner, that low-rank clerk. Knew it'd come to this.
—9th-grade collector bragging about palace pals? Suspicious from the start. Told ya it was bullshit.
—But now the fox is gone and tiger's here? Theo Gaspel? Real deal? Why's he in a dump like this?
—Probably hunting impostors. Liars everywhere.
I felt eyes scanning me up and down.
No point lingering.
I extended a hand to the fallen waitress.
"H-Hiii."
She flinched in fear, so I froze and just spoke.
"You okay?"
"Y-Yes... B-But, did you... just save me now...?"
Doubt clouded her face when someone surrounding us spoke.
—She's a virgin. Theo's after the waitress's purity. Why else do a good deed?
—M-Means this could all be his scheme?
—Didn't say that far. But maybe. Stick around, and she'll lose her innocence to him!
What the fuck?
"H-Huuuh."
The waitress neared tears from the gossip. I stood and shouted.
"Report anyone else impersonating the royals or their retainers!"
That was it.
No more to say. Lingering might spawn bad rumors, so I shoved open the tavern door and left.
Maybe it'd spread as a heartwarming tale?
Nah. "Theo Gaspel demands waitress's virginity"—just that snippet, twisted for headlines. Reporters would ensure it.
Time to crack down on the press soon.
As I reached to replace my hood—
"Court Gardener."
A voice called. Turning, I saw a luxurious carriage drawn by two pitch-black horses like demons.
Spider crest meant palace-sent to fetch me.
The black-robed coachman said,
"Lord Theo. Her Majesty summons you urgently."
"How'd you know I was here?"
"Her Majesty's city has many ears. Now, board please."
* * *
I hurried to Queen Aira's private chambers.
I'd clearly taken the day off, and she'd approved for once.
Yet summoning me this evening meant something crucial.
Knock, knock.
"Your Majesty. It's Theo. Theo Gaspel here."
After rapping on the gilded oak door, a faint stir inside, then "Come in."
I checked my appearance one last time and entered.
Unlike the tavern, the queen's chambers were an art gallery: red carpet under dazzling chandelier, Italian-style furniture everywhere.
Spotting the supreme figure amid beauties, I bowed.
"Your Majesty, you summoned? What brings you to call me so late?"
"Important business. Very important and urgent. Otherwise, I wouldn't drag you from your first vacation in months."
"Yes, of course."
I bowed, scanning shrewdly. Long since last visit, but unchanged.
Doesn't seem urgent.
Imagining what as Aira declared boldly,
"On that note, Theo. I'm entrusting you with a grave duty. Truly grave. Graver than the barbarian conquest I ordered Elga on."
Graver than barbarian conquest?
Only thing coming to mind: Wall commander beyond northern rift. Inspect that hellhole? Nah.
Aira wouldn't send me far.
Unless she joins?
Head spinning when Aira said,
"Tomorrow, market inspection. Unsure which stockings to wear. You decide. Pick from these two."
She fetched two sheer black fishnets from the wardrobe.
Identical color, identical look.
"Come, Theo. Choose. Important, so carefully."
This is the important matter?
Dragged from vacation for this? But for Aira, possible.
Her internal scales were quirky.
Cat lives outweighed human ones sometimes. Stockings trumped expeditions.
Most of her eccentricities stemmed from that broken scale?
Elga'd grind her teeth hearing stockings > expedition.
Swish.
I eyed the black fishnets.
Seem identical—color, shape, size. But assuming so marks a novice.
Squire month one taught black shades: ivory black, lampblack, mars black, vine black, nymph black!
But these two... no difference visible.
Crisis of my life.
Fuck... what's the diff?
Sweat beaded underarms. But I knew the play.
"As expected of Aira. Exquisite eye for color. To me, both just black."
"No need to be shy. I'm the impressive one distinguishing them."
To her regal words, I replied aptly, "Yes. Indeed. Truly impressive."
Sucks up without malice—key point.
"Alright. Decided. This one."
She picked one identical pair. Why call me if she'd choose?
Reason clicked instantly.
Hint in her words.
"Wait—no. You're going to the market tomorrow?"
"Nah, seeing you changed my mind. Going now. Help me change into them?"
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