Chapter 179
Chapter 179
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 179
>Chapter Title: Not Bad, Right?
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I passed the buck to Senior Mysellern and spent a leisurely afternoon.
‘That’s just how the world works.’
Nothing complicated about it.
Damian wants an adventure? Then just give him what he wants.
Granting Damian’s request might seem like it carries a hefty risk at first glance.
If the Blandoga Family notices his disappearance, they’ll mobilize at the family level, and once that starts, things won’t end simply.
So, what if we don’t grant Damian’s request?
‘That comes with its own headaches.’
But here’s the thing we need to consider.
In the first scenario—Damian joining us—the risk is high, but the chance of it actually happening isn’t 100 percent.
Worst case, we sneak out late at night and come back early. Who’s going to know?
Now, the second scenario?
‘The risk kicks in with 100 percent certainty.’
So, a spear blade that might or might not stab us versus a dagger that’s guaranteed to hit. The choice was obvious.
Of course… normally, you’d pick the safe dagger over getting skewered by the spear, but that’s just in ordinary times.
Especially when someone else is the one who’d get skewered. Why hesitate?
‘Yeah, no reason not to.’
Don’t call me heartless.
That’s how the world is.
Strictly speaking, this is Senior Mysellern’s mess now, so it’s only right he takes responsibility, isn’t it?
Anyway, after lounging through that idle afternoon, just as I was waiting for dinner, Senior Mysellern showed up.
“I’ll come in.”
From his resolute expression, I could tell he’d made up his mind.
But something about that resolve felt a bit off…
“Young Patriarch of Blandoga.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll gladly kidnap him.”
“…?”
What the hell?
I blinked in confusion, taking a moment to gather my thoughts.
‘Kidnap Damian?’
“…Why?”
“Wasn’t that what you meant?”
“…”
“…”
An awkward silence stretched between us.
I broke it first.
“Why don’t you sit down first? Take a seat in front…”
“Got it.”
I waited for him to settle in, then revisited his words.
“Why kidnap Damian?”
“Wasn’t that it? Quietly snatch him away and lock him up until the job’s done.”
“…”
His answer hit me like a slap to the back of the head.
“There’s a way like that…?”
“…Wasn’t that what you meant?”
“Not bad, right?”
It was pretty damn appealing.
No, appealing didn’t even cover it.
Senior Mysellern’s perspective sparked something in me. Guess that’s why experience matters.
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
Analyzing it, I’d been too complacent, viewing Damian through the lens of ‘friend.’
Yeah. Knocking him out until it’s over or locking him somewhere was a solid option.
Hell, not just that.
We could slip in and out without him noticing a thing. Sure, it’d hurt his feelings a bit, but isn’t there that saying?
‘Easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’
Do the deed first, apologize later.
That’s when Senior Mysellern’s voice cut in.
“So, what was your original point…?”
“I was thinking of bringing Damian along.”
“The Young Patriarch…?”
“Yeah, he wants an adventure, right? So we let him have it.”
At my response, Senior Mysellern furrowed his brow.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It’s his choice.”
“He’s still young. Even if it’s his choice, dragging him somewhere with unknown dangers is too much.”
“…”
“…”
“What’s wrong?”
Was my stare too obvious?
Senior Mysellern asked, puzzled.
‘Why?’
It was so obvious, yet it sounded anything but.
Truth is, I’m young too.
I don’t know my exact age as a Black-White Slums urchin, but the papers I submitted for academy enrollment list me as fourteen.
To Shine, I was twenty-three. Anyway, three years older than the bastard. And to the chief fixer at Hamern Great Forest’s first base camp, I bluffed two years older.
But even so, my youth is undeniable.
‘Then… why me?’
Faces of people I’d met flashed by like a panorama.
Hazen, who handled my paper… well, whatever. Even if things went haywire with Karahen and Infinite Chain, he didn’t know.
And honestly, my young age might’ve been a plus for Hazen deep down.
‘Easier to off me if needed.’
Then, the headmaster who sent me to Hamern Great Forest?
Back then, I thought: Sure, he’s from the old war era, so age might not matter much.
Kids grabbed swords and hit the front lines back then. Anyone who could cast spells got drafted, adult or child.
It was an era where skill mattered more than years.
But.
Hearing Senior Mysellern now, that didn’t seem right. He’s from the old war era too…
‘Damian’s too young?’
“How old do you think I am, Senior?”
“Hmm, how old? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“…?”
“Oh, older than that? Sorry. Calling someone like you ‘young’ probably isn’t flattering.”
“…?”
“Haha, honestly, at first I pegged you as Damian’s age. But talking with you, I realized quick that wasn’t the case.”
What was this now?
I stared at him questioningly for a while, and he tilted his head.
“Aren’t you on those potions?”
“…Potions?”
“You know… the doping agents mages love. I heard one side effect is stunted growth.”
“Yes?”
“No? Hm. Well, the world’s changed, so maybe no need for that anymore? Sorry. It happened plenty back in the day. Back when people were just numbers. Regular soldier: 1, mage: 10, spirit user: 15, knight: 8. Whatever it took to boost those numbers.”
A tale from the old war era.
Ah, now that he mentioned it, something clicked.
‘Doping agents, right?’
Potions for instant cognition boosts, core development, or exploding mana output.
The side effects were brutal, but they didn’t care back then.
When you might die tomorrow, who gives a damn about a week, ten days, or two years later?
“But how old are you really?”
“Fourteen.”
“No… way?”
His eyes shook like he’d taken a massive hit.
Frankly, insulting.
Sure, I didn’t act fourteen.
But still…
It didn’t take long for Senior Mysellern to speak up.
“…Anyone who can fend for themselves is an adult. By that measure, you’re already a fine one.”
“…”
Yeah, whatever… let’s say that’s true.
Anyway, enough chit-chat.
I steered back to the main topic.
“Why assume it’ll be dangerous?”
“Isn’t it? Ancient ruins are full of phenomena modern magic can’t explain. Take Destro from the start…”
Ah, you know about Destro too.
Yeah, I traded punches with that guy. Did it all.
Heard of Hamern Great Forest Spicy Fist?
Anyway, per Senior, ancient ruins hold stuff even magic realms lack: monsters mimicking human forms—doppelgangers—for starters, plus every mythical or legendary being you can imagine.
‘But… aren’t doppelgangers just legends?’
As I pondered that.
Senior trailed off, like he’d slipped up.
“I misspoke. Forget what I just said. It’s not for spreading anyway; it’s kind of hush-hush…”
“Yeah, sure.”
Not really my interest, so I brushed it off.
Whatever dangers the ruins held, I wasn’t fazed.
Good slaves… er, good friends come at a price.
No turning back now.
But Damian’s case was a bit different.
“How about this?”
“What?”
“We ask him directly.”
“As I said, the Young Patriarch is…”
“Not that young?”
“…?”
Did I cut in too abruptly? Senior Mysellern tilted his head, puzzled.
I shrugged at his look and added.
“Let’s just ask him. We’ll figure out what to do after.”
“That’s true, but…”
Looking at him hesitate, I was certain he’d go along with me in the end.
Good. That settles it.
“Shall we head to dinner first?”
“Yeah, let’s.”
“Eat hearty—the ghost of a well-fed man haunts with style. Gotta fuel up if you’re dodging Blandoga.”
“…”
Not funny?
Doesn’t matter.
The point is in saying it. Whether it lands or not is secondary.
I’m a man who values the process over the result.
* * *
In the end, Damian agreed on the spot.
“Every adventure carries risk!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Ancient ruins! My blood’s boiling. This must be fate’s call. Heroes can’t stay idle.”
Damian suddenly spouting lines like he was in a play.
He looked genuinely pumped, but Senior Mysellern still seemed uneasy, his face darkening.
“Young Patriarch, this isn’t a simple matter. You might not grasp it yet since you’re young…”
“Teacher, I’m not young.”
“Twelve is still…”
“Age is just a number. ‘Adult’ means taking responsibility for yourself. And I’m old enough to own my choices.”
What? His eyes sharpened, pronunciation crisp.
Is New-Prototype Damian real?
But Senior Mysellern pressed on, face stern, unwilling to let it go.
“Young Patriarch, this could cost your life. You might not understand…”
He launched into a lecture on the risks.
He clearly planned to convince Damian to back out.
I just listened quietly.
Frankly, he was right.
Truth be told, I’d prefer Damian not join—it’d be easier for me.
So I was quietly rooting for Senior Mysellern—
“Hmm.”
A low hum.
“…?”
Something off in the air. I glanced at Damian.
He’d leaned back, propping his chin. But why? His eyes burned with irritation.
“…And so, the ancient ruins…”
“Teacher.”
Damian’s voice edged sharp… no, not sharp.
It was utterly flat. So dry it just felt cutting at first listen.
Senior Mysellern stopped at the vibe, and even I eyed Damian strangely…
“I said I get it all. Why repeat yourself? Are you scared of the responsibility I might drag you into?”
That look in his eyes—it wasn’t the Damian I knew.
‘…Darkened Damian?’
Damian… pissed off?