Chapter 198
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 198
Chapter Title: The Old Man Found in the Mist Nest
-----------------------------------------------------------------
'He's not angry... right?'
Liliane had moments like this, where she'd be playfully bantering with Roman only to suddenly slam face-first into reality.
She knew full well it had nothing to do with his intentions—it was just her making a fuss on her own.
But there were times when a single sentence or even a word would make her mind snap to attention.
"..."
Roman's piercing gaze shook Liliane's thoughts like an earthquake.
Did her words really come across as 'interrogating' him?
His face was smiling, so it wasn't anger, but Roman's capricious nature kept her tension from fading.
Of course, he'd never shown any fury toward her or the other party members up to now.
But the memory of seeing him truly enraged right in front of her was far too vivid.
When Roman really lost it, he didn't end things like other adventurers, yelling threats or throwing punches.
Not even with his unfathomable, relentless power.
He was cold. Methodical. Utterly merciless.
Roman's platinum, not gold...
Don't forget that, she reminded herself, behind his usual easygoing warmth.
The man standing before her was extraordinary.
Every time she met Roman, things would go great until these memories surged up, eroding her composure and leaving her apologetic and flustered.
As those past recollections resurfaced, choking her, Alice—her personal lifeguard—finally arrived.
It was right then, as she sipped her drink to calm her roiling stomach, that he spoke.
"She asked if Alice was my type?"
"...Huh?"
Pffft-!
Roman swiftly snatched her plate away, preventing the liquid Liliane spat from drenching the food.
"S-Sorry!"
She wiped her dripping mouth with her sleeve, searching for something to clean up with, but the only wet things were wooden platters—no point.
"Sit. Eat before it gets cold."
He slid the bowl back into place and roused Alice, who was standing there blinking vacantly.
"Uh... y-yeah!"
As if nothing had happened, he scooped food onto plates for Liliane and Alice, then crossed his arms and sank into thought.
"My type of woman..."
""...!""
He pressed on with his musing, ignoring the two women who jolted in shock just as they reached for their food.
My habit of blurting out in the guild that I preferred virgins? Unicorn blood.
If someone asked about a firm physical type... these days, who knows.
Maid outfits or garter belts in the bedroom? Those weren't quirks—they were fetishes.
Now that I had women with their own unique flavors in my arms, what was my real taste?
Breast size? Even if all my women's chests vanished into flat plains, I'd love them just the same.
Not that.
Hairstyle? Mine varied wildly, so no.
All beauties, each face radiating its own unmatched allure—I couldn't even claim a favorite anymore.
Picking one look as top meant the others weren't, so maybe keeping it vague was best?
Fetishes? They accommodated anything I asked, clearing the air mutually.
In the end, the key point was...
"A trustworthy woman."
Liliane, well aware of my old lines, voiced her doubt.
"...Your standards changed?"
"Not changed. Added."
"Hmm..."
I smiled at Liliane as she furrowed her brows and let out a low groan.
But the blonde girl couldn't keep up with the conversation.
What did he mean by that?
Her gut screamed that asking again might actually break the big sister, so she clamped her mouth shut.
Alice rolled her bright, sparkling eyes around, trying to read the room, all while steadily working her hands.
Chewing on chunks of meat lavishly coated in special sauce, she did her best to piece it together.
"Chambers still on the wagon was unexpected."
"He's got self-control."
"True, except for Rak, that place is..."
It was a talk she couldn't easily butt into.
The mood was nice, and even she knew better than to drag up 'disciple' talk and ruin it now.
"Spent way more time than I planned."
-Hiss.
As signs of him leaving appeared, Tero bolted upright from atop Roman's head.
"Off to the request?"
Alice's eyes flashed bright, but he shook his head and rose from his seat.
Scraaape—
"Nah. Other business calls. Sorry for crashing your chat uninvited—you two kept things lively."
"...Not at all. Thanks to you, it was delicious."
"No way! It was an honor! Thanks for the meal!!"
Alice hurriedly swallowed her mouthful of meat, shot to her feet, and bowed deeply.
He chuckled, tousled her hair into a mess, and took his leave.
"Catch you later. Don't die."
"Yes!!"
With a promise of next time, Alice grinned ear to ear.
Watching Roman's retreating back, Liliane fell into thought.
Something...?
He'd definitely changed.
His unusually unique, gentle demeanor had always been there before.
But it used to carry unmistakable weariness and anger beneath.
Now? His mind felt utterly settled, at perfect peace.
"Hmm."
I hopped through the gate out of the territory, rode on, and flipped open the notebook where I'd jotted down the intel for another check.
Fiddling with a chunk of artificial demon flesh in one hand, I tossed it into my inventory along with the notebook and picked up speed.
Back before dinner?
I'd burned more time at the tavern than expected.
The sun was still up, but no telling how long the job would take, so no stopping now.
Face wrapped in a mask, body shrouded in baggy robes.
Dashing through the trees in the most suspicious getup imaginable.
Rustle—
Brushing past trees heavy with stiff leaves, a humid scent—like rain was coming—hit my nose hard.
What filled my eyes wasn't ocean, but river.
A thick fog clung broodingly to the water, putting on quite the show.
This spot hugged a massive river shrouded in mystery fog year-round, reason unknown.
In the game, it was marked as the Mist Nest.
Among the villages lining the river, one bore the bizarre name 'Waporem'.
Weaving through a handful of big and small settlements ringing the banks, I reached my target without wasting steps.
Not bad for a first trip.
Peering inside, it was the usual scene: most folks scraping by pulling fish from the river, nothing special.
Even with my shady look, they spared quick glances before busying back to work.
Repairing rotten boats or gutting fresh catches—daily grind.
The village's quirk? Not a single kid in sight. Starting from middle-aged, mostly elders.
The gloomy air alone confirmed it—this was the place.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Deeper in, toward the riverbank.
An old man—one arm shy—sat blankly staring at the water by the docks where boats for river runs were moored.
Clink—
The metallic jingle turned his head my way.
"Here."
Two coppers sandwiching a single silver.
I handed it over; he said nothing, but got the message, rose, and started walking.
Slow, plodding steps.
We reached a shack that'd probably crumple in a downpour. He knelt and slid the coins under the closed door.
Creeeak—
The door swung open at the same instant.
"Feels like ten years since a guest last showed."
Inside the hut, a kindly-faced elder greeted me.
He'd been reading; he marked his page and tucked his glasses into their case.
Morgan Blackwood.
Top brass among Mendes Pentagram executives.
One of the rare few with direct lines to the group's head. Lived his whole life worshiping demons.
Rags that'd make any beggar jealous, despite his immense power and near-leadership rank.
Not a disguise. This deranged bunch was just like that.
The endgame for them was full surrender to Pandemonium—becoming demons.
Gold, booze, women? All trash to discard on the path to demonhood. They shunned worldly filth.
Polar opposite of Nematos, entrenched in the empire pulling annoying stunts. Relations predictably toxic.
Not just Nematos steered clear.
Other black mages who slighted demons? This lot charged in frothing, size be damned—mad dogs of the trade.
Zero interest in the real world made them a massive wild card, depending on how you played them.
"Came to show you this. And tell you where I got it."
Flashing the artificial demon flesh deepened the wrinkles riddling his face.
"...Speak. Now."
His voice sank low. The hut's air warped, twisting violently.
"Important stuff after. Least ears possible."
I nodded back at the old man behind me. Morgan worked his dry, chapped lips.
"Handled. Kill yourself."
"Yes!"
The old man beamed joyfully, yanked a dagger from the drawer atop the desk.
"Pandemonium welcomes me!!!"
Stab!
Clean kill. Zero hesitation or fear.
Thud!
Dropped like a puppet with cut strings, blood pooling steadily.
No wonder other black mages gave these psychos a wide berth.
"Necessary?"
Overkill for guest intimidation. Manpower sink.
"Watch. Won't touch the guest."
Morgan twitched a gnarled finger. The blood pooled thick on the floor stirred, forming a ritual circle.
"The dullard realized it in the second epistle. Do not consort with unbelievers."
"They cannot mingle. Righteousness and unrighteousness cannot pair, nor can light and darkness."
⟨ Binding Rite ⟩
I'd been clutching Gleipnir from my pouch. Hearing the familiar incantation, I stroked it once before tucking it away again.