Chapter 163
Chapter 163
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 163
>Chapter Title: Crunch and Crunch-Time
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My first morning in the Blandoga estate.
I woke up feeling refreshed, ran through a cycle of breathing exercises, then asked a servant for a cup of tea.
A leisurely tea time.
I was just savoring the moment when a commotion erupted outside the door.
"Ah, here it comes."
The disaster, Damian, had arrived—
Bam!
But the one who burst through the door was an unexpected figure.
"The wastrel?"
The first graduate of the rehabilitation program after Evelyn, the Tulka family's good-for-nothing Pai-whatever von Tulka was the star of the show.
"Looks like the rehab wasn't enough after all..."
...Or not.
His face was so pale it was turning blue.
He'd flung the door open and was panting like a man who'd barely escaped becoming a dragon's snack in the mountains, his soul half-scared out of him.
But why was he here?
My eyes naturally sharpened, and right then, the gasping wastrel—who looked like he was on his last breath—finally spoke.
"M-Mi-Mi-Mimi...!"
"You lunatic?"
"N-No, not that. No! I-I'm sorry! I came to say I'm sorry. I was reckless yesterday. I'm sorry. It was truly rude of me to speak that way to the one who pointed out my failings."
I furrowed my brow slightly at the sudden apology.
'What the hell did this guy eat wrong?'
Sure, it was morning, but barely dawn.
The servants were bustling about, but it was a bit early for the young master wastrel to start his day.
And yet, here he was at the crack of dawn. To say sorry?
Suspicion crept into my gaze, a hint of murder in my eyes, but the wastrel waved his hands frantically.
"N-No other meaning! I really just came to apologize. I thought it over last night, and... I realized I'd committed a grave sin against you."
No, it wasn't that grave.
I was just baffled.
'This guy showed zero remorse yesterday, and now this?'
If he were the type to repent after one night, yesterday's fiasco(?) never would've happened.
I'd even been bracing for some aftercare...
Then, a forgotten detail popped into my head.
'No way, Hazen?'
Yeah, that had to be the only reason this wastrel would act like this.
I'd heard he'd made a move, but this fast?
'What the hell did he do?'
Seeing the wastrel transformed overnight, I couldn't hide my amazement. Maybe the top reeducator on the eastern continent wasn't me, but Hazen.
Anyway.
"Hmm, you're really sorry, huh."
"Y-Yes. W-Would you believe me if... if I got on my knees?"
This guy still hadn't fully wised up.
His voice dropped at the "kneel" part, and he scanned the surroundings furtively—clearly still embarrassed.
But.
I didn't make an issue of it.
If even this arrogant prick was offering to kneel, it meant desperation was bubbling up from the depths of his heart.
A true sage with charisma doesn't exploit someone's distress to humiliate them.
I grabbed the shoulder of the guy who'd shuffled forward, trembling, about to drop to his knees.
"No need for that."
"Th-Then..."
"Listen well. Knees aren't for casual kneeling. Sure, you're the world's worst wastrel, but I don't feel like humiliating you that much."
"Y-You... called me 'you bastard'..."
His eyes gleamed with what seemed like感動.
I responded with a benevolent smile.
"Not 'you bastard,' just 'you rascal.' Let's drop the harsh words. Our first meeting wasn't pleasant, but now we have a chance to make peace, right?"
"R-Right."
"Then let's be brothers from now on. Sound good?"
"...Suddenly?"
Caution flickered across the wastrel's face.
Ah, too fast?
But no problem.
How many times had I been shaken down in the back alleys of the Black-White Slums?
Hundreds of times as the victim, dozens as the shaker-downer. Why dozens? By the time I was old enough to do it myself, I'd been sold to the Decullans.
Anyway, I took a calm step back and eyed the wastrel.
"Ah, bro. You're sorry, right? Not sorry anymore?"
"I am sorry, but..."
"Bro, how old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?"
"E-Eighteen."
"Then you're definitely the bro. Right? You are. How old am I again... Anyway, me and Damian are friends, so you're the bro, yeah?"
"Yeah, seems like it."
I smiled warmly at our wastrel bro, who nodded obediently, a bit more relaxed.
Ah, look at me.
"Bro, sit down first. What're you doing? Anyone'd think I'm bullying you."
"R-Really?"
"Yeah, exactly."
He stood awkwardly for a moment before plopping into the chair opposite.
Now fully relaxed, a bit of leisure returned to his face. But had I loosened up too much?
"Y-Yeah, little bro. Right, you're the little bro. Haha! But, little bro, big bro's here—how about some tea?"
"No, fuck, bro. You think we're close enough to sit here sipping tea all cozy?"
"......"
"How about bread? I've got plenty. Pick one. House specials: death-bread, knife-bread. Want others? I'll give you a taste."
"Hic."
Ah, did I scare him too much?
Our wastrel bro tensed up again.
But now I saw—this level of tension suited him perfectly.
So I left him on edge and leisurely sipped my tea alone before speaking.
"Bro, time to settle up."
"Se-Settle?"
"Yeah, you're sorry, right? Gotta show some sincerity."
"......"
"What, you planning to ghost your little bro? I thought you were really sorry."
"N-No... I really am."
Our wastrel bro's face paled again as he waved his hands.
Whatever Hazen did, he did it right.
Eyes darting cautiously to mine, our wastrel bro spoke up.
"S-So, what do you want? J-Just say it."
"Tch, just say it?"
"...Yeah, just say it."
That's more like it.
'Alright, what to squeeze from our wastrel bro.'
Being shaken down sucks—this moment most of all. But shaking someone down? Pure bliss.
I leaned back with a generous smile, elbows on knees, fingers steepled.
"So, bro. How much did you bring?"
"......?"
"I'm curious about your sincerity."
"......"
Our wastrel bro's pupils quivered wildly.
I beamed innocently at those eyes.
Someday, I'd send quiet thanks to some nameless Black-White Slum thug who'd taken my money. Thanks to you, I am who I am today.
Childhood experiences matter for a reason.
Nameless thug, respect.
* * *
After wrangling a tidy sum... no, a token of sincerity, I escorted my new wastrel bro to the door.
"Bro, you won't blab anywhere, right?"
"......"
"No answer? Why? Weren't we gonna be close from now on?"
"...Won't say a word."
Our wastrel bro nodded solemnly, face stiff.
Honestly, it kinda bugged me.
The talk ended well, we reached a nice agreement—why the long face?
"Bro, smile."
"......"
"You're off to greet Grandma now. You gonna bow with that shit-eating look?"
"Th-That's..."
"No way, right? Yeah, better not. Grandma'll be uncomfortable. Folks'll think I bullied you. C'mon, copy me. Ch~ eese."
"Ch-Ch~ eese."
"Good, remember cheese. Unless you wanna ferment underground where no mouse or bird finds you."
"......"
Our wastrel bro's face stiffened again.
But I believed.
He'd manage his expression perfectly in front of Grandma.
"S-So, can I go now?"
"Yeah, off you go. Oh, don't forget the... token of sincerity by the banquet."
"B-But even so, the banquet's too tight..."
"Know what sound bones make when they snap?"
"......?"
"Crunch."
"......"
"Like crunch-time? Or like crunch?"
"A-Alright."
"If you skip the banquet?"
"Y-Your feelings get hurt."
"And if my feelings get hurt?"
"...I get hurt."
"Right. Now scram."
I drilled the reminders home one last time, then waved as our wastrel bro trudged away.
Shoulders slumped, shuffling off.
Knowing when to leave—how beautiful.
Still, good deal for wastrel bro.
Where else could he find a bro like me? No boasting, but at my age, transcendent, with Lortel's platinum badge? Step up if you got one.
Anyone? No.
Anyway, after sending him off.
I returned to my seat for more leisurely tea.
A rewarding morning.
Why rewarding?
Not just the sincerity.
The real joy: snuffing out the last embers of strife between me and wastrel bro.
"The world edges one step closer to peace today."
A mage striving for world peace.
The great sage Aster.
What stirring words.
Savoring that trivial peace, a knock—"knock knock"—sounded with footsteps outside.
"Sir Aster, are you awake?"
Familiar voice.
Ransi.
"Yes, I'm up, but..."
"Perfect. I've brought Young Master Damian and young Chenbi. May we enter?"
Ah, this is life.
One leaves, two arrive.
'If I say no here... it'll really be no good.'
No choice anyway.
"Yes, come in."
"Right away."
Ransi entered at my reply.
Behind him came familiar platinum blond and brown hair. I smiled in resignation, steeling myself.
Long time no see, disaster.
Preparing my heart before facing it—
"......?"
Wait, something's off.
'What? That's Damian?'
What happened these past few weeks?
He'd been a bit shorter than me; now he'd shot up a full handspan. But more baffling: the vibe.
Chenbi, fine, whatever.
Always the prim type.
But Damian...
Step, step.
Damian entered with noble gait. His smile was still innocent, but gone was any boyish naivete.
And above all.
'What an aura...'
Same guy?
I took in Damian standing before me, looking down.
He'd always outshone his peers, but now? Full-fledged mage presence.
Casual breaths, sharp eyes, subtle aura—everything.
Even for a genius like Damian, this was...
As I thought that.
Damian grinned right then.
"Friend, been well?"
Polite greeting from Damian.
I stared, then blurted.
"You— you're not Damian."
"Friend, forget Semester 1 Damian. I'm New—Damian. The evolved prototype."
What.
The nonsense sounds like Damian.
'...What the hell happened in the meantime?'
I shot Chenbi a look for answers.
But.
"Aster, long time. You ever tried dirt? Didn't know till now, but soil tastes different by type. My fave's loess..."
"......"
I alternated between Chenbi waxing poetic on dirt flavors and Damian's oddly unhinged nobility.
Damian: intellect up.
Chenbi: intellect down.
'Blandoga... what the fuck did you do?'