Chapter 24

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 24

Chapter Title: Private Tutoring for the Adventurer's Girl -9-

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"Sis."

"Yeah?"

Seria was staying at Liliane's house while she was back from her commission, cramming history facts.

Liliane, enjoying her rare day off, was tackling the housework she'd put off one by one.

"That instructor named Roman... what kind of adventurer is he?"

"That again...?"

Seria closed her history book and stared piercingly at Liliane, who looked troubled.

Sis definitely knows something.

Seria pressed her with a blazing gaze, knowing her sister was weak to persistence.

"I looked into him everywhere since he's Platinum like Urus, but there's no solid info—it all feels like lies... Sis, you must know, right?"

"Hmm, even if it's info I know... where did you even find that? What makes you say it's all lies?"

The info Seria had dug up on Roman was all over the place.

Some said he wielded a sword like a pro, others claimed his main weapon was a hammer.

And a one-eyed guy, puffing out his fat face, swore up and down that the bastard's weapon was his fists.

"Sure, with his physical prowess and experience, he'd be stronger than average adventurers no matter what he picks up... but the stories don't add up."

And basically, any Platinum adventurer had eyewitness accounts and praises floating around.

Even Sapphires had bards singing songs about them, but she'd never heard any tales about him.

"Ahaha... Still, this is something you should know as an aspiring adventurer, Seria."

"Huh?"

"Truth is, bards take money from adventurers to compose and sing songs about them. It's like a symbiotic relationship?"

"What does that mean...?"

"You need public recognition to get high-paying named commissions. So they hype each other up?"

Liliane ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tried to keep it light for her little sister dreaming of adventuring, but the moment Seria heard it, her pure ideals cracked hard.

For someone who idolized adventurers innocently, this commercial underbelly was a headache just to think about.

"Th-then all the songs bards have sung so far are..."

"Not all, but most? And Roman chased away some bards from their guild who came looking before— so he's on bad terms with them."

"..."

"Word of mouth is everything in this job, so no adventurer treats bards poorly... but he beat up some who showed up demanding money to make him famous. Caused a huge scene that day."

"...So what happened?"

Even with her worldview shaken, curiosity was curiosity.

Seria was already hooked on the new topic and juicy story.

"No matter how bad the rumors the bards spread, people kept seeking him out because of his skills. He says he went to the bard guild himself and talked it out amicably?"

"Hmm~ That's a sensible resolution at least."

Seria crossed her arms and nodded.

"R-right? And even if you keep digging, Seria, it's hard to find real info on him. So best not to push further."

"Would it be dangerous if I did?"

"That too, but... he operates solo, so there's genuinely no solid info. And from what I know, his weapon is..."

"Wait, you know it?!"

"Ah, slipped out... Sorry. I don't think even you should know this, Seria... He might get upset?"

"Urgh..."

That guy was probably with Rike right now.

Is she okay?

She'd gotten drawn in by Rike's sword swings at the instructor and approached out of curiosity.

But from her occasional slips and reactions, it was clear how naive and fragile she was.

Unlike other nobles, she was the only cadet Seria considered a friend.

She'll come back safe... right?

'Kinda motivated now.'

And I'd seen a nice smile too.

The way to the incineration site was between Coven and the Academy anyway—a route I had to take.

I wanted to pat myself on the back for the perfect path choice.

Before heading out.

I rolled my shoulders and neck to loosen up, then paused.

That thing that just came to mind.

I pulled [Weapon for Her] from my Inventory.

I'd dumped all the gold, silver, and copper coins from the orphanage into it.

And the mustache guy's hidden gems were plentiful enough to craft Coven's top recipe.

That success added the line below to celebrate.

That note meant getting the weapon also granted a dedicated skill.

"Here, a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gift."

"Pardon? What is this...?"

A perfect item, appraised down to the emotions with my appraisal skill.

Rike stared at the ornament, at a loss.

"Can't use it myself, right? For usage... just name it."

"...What name would be good?"

"Hmm— the pain of creation. Name it when something clicks! It'll respond on its own then."

Rike clutched the ornament I'd handed her tightly in both hands.

"...I'll treasure it."

I scooped up the fiddling girl for departure.

And kicked off the ground.

"Eep!"

"Random names won't trigger it, so no rush. It'll come naturally!"

I didn't have any clever tips either.

The game had a few weapon names she gave, but now? No clue what it'd turn into.

Situation was worlds apart from the game.

'Thinking of the dedicated skill she can get, a sword's safe...'

-

The wild hills where bearded charcoal burners had held sway since old times billowed smoke from dawn.

Around them clustered workshops using charcoal, so folks passed massive kilns without a second glance.

"Yawwn~"

"Jaw's gonna split."

"Means it's peaceful."

"Shut it and grab fast. Slacking today could be dangerous."

""One— two—!""

Whoosh—

Two men used the momentum to hurl a limp body into the massive kiln.

Stuffing a lifeless human into roaring flames.

At first, even trash like them found it mentally taxing, but now? These things didn't even register as human.

No thoughts now—just repetitive labor.

Not proud work, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so hitting a tavern meant trekking far, but the pay made it worthwhile.

Plus.

Spot a woman you like? Relieve urges. A godsend job.

Sole downside: Doll-like, no reactions. Shame.

'When's that 'customer' guy leaving?'

Suppressing urges mid-work, my partner eyed me and pointed at my neck.

"Huh? Something black on your neck... hair? You snuck off for a romp during work again!"

Absurd from my end.

Black hair stuck to his face too, yet framing me? Shameless.

His gall tongue-tied even me.

With rumors of the manager's VIP around, quietly processing folks, and now this.

"What?! Check your own face before—"

Psssh—!!

The black line sprayed blood.

-

'This blade's too sharp.'

A jet-black sword all over—the best among mine.

Even against plate-armored knights, rarely needed mana.

This edge sliced without feedback on swings.

Undeniably top weapon, but I didn't love it.

Felt like it wielded me, not my power. Unsettling every use.

"Tch."

I tossed the bleeding pair into the kiln.

And handed my sword to Rike.

Chills every swing.

"Holding it cuts risks. Better safe with a blade."

"Ah— wait!"

"Insanely sharp—never touch the edge."

She belted the ornament and took my sword carefully.

Just equipping it resisted status ailments.

Needed a stabber for Hell Broom anyway.

-

Slashing workers confirmed Hell Broom was here.

Hell Broom: definite black mage.

No recall on the 'manager' they mentioned.

Given the black mage, clearing these humans made sense.

But I'd seen his game tricks—left sacrifices be.

'Will the old man pull the same moves?'

"Heading in now— you good?"

Rike shut her eyes, breathing deep repeatedly.

Sword hand trembled.

Not fear—emotions for the foe ahead.

Laid my hand lightly over hers; trembling stopped.

"...Calmed down thanks to you."

"Remember my request?"

Rike nodded vigorously.

Mountain lined with massive kilns.

Our target old man waited inside.