Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: What the Con Artist Likes Most
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"I'm going to create a show. The greatest show on earth that can satisfy everyone."
What was this man talking about?
Why was he telling them this?
Why had he come here to say such things?
They had no idea.
To the Fredric brothers, the situation itself felt utterly alien.
"We need a protagonist to take the stage."
"......"
"Someone who everyone mocks, but who can turn that mockery into cheers. A special actor."
Stage. Protagonist.
Was he planning to put on a play?
If so, perhaps he intended to use them as monsters defeated by a hero.
Wouldn't that be far cheaper than crafting props?
People would cheer for heroes who slay grotesque monsters,
and cheer even louder the more pathetically they fell.
"Are we... going to play the monsters?"
"Rick. Quiet......"
Rick asked in a trembling voice.
Fred tried to cover Rick's mouth, fearing the whip,
but Rick's question slipped through his fingers and reached the con artist's ears.
One body, two mouths.
Two arms, four legs.
The gazes of the two-headed monster crossed with the gaze of the man in the stylish suit.
"You there, what's your name?"
"Frederick. He's Fred, I'm Rick. Together, Frederick......"
"Right. Rick. And Fred. You two are special slaves."
"......"
"Special people are destined to become protagonists on stage."
"Protagonists...?"
Every play with a hero needs a monster.
Even in the role-playing games of neighborhood kids wielding sticks.
A boy hero with a stick-sword
and a ragged cloak of torn cloth,
versus a monster too wretched for even a sackcloth covering,
whose role was simply to rampage, collapse, and howl.
That 'monster' had always been the Fredric brothers' role.
No.
Not just the Fredric brothers.
Everyone here had,
in their own ways, played the monster.
The role of 'monster' thrust upon them had served as
a tool for false priests to deceive the masses,
a plaything for the bored to pelt with stones,
or an outlet for aimless rage and hatred.
Monsters were familiar.
They could understand being told to be monsters.
But suddenly, protagonists?
For the slaves here,
it was a role far too unfamiliar.
"Yes. Protagonists. You will be the stars of the circus I'm creating."
"Can monsters become protagonists too?"
"People born with uniqueness that sets them apart from others are never allowed by fate to remain mere supporting roles."
Rick's eyes sparkled.
Fred's eyes trembled with fear, anxiety, and a hint of expectation.
Hope.
A feeling all too familiar to the con artist.
Meeting each slave's eyes one by one, slowly,
the con artist spoke in a voice that was clear yet whisper-like.
"If you weren't monsters, you couldn't devour the souls of the audience......"
At that moment,
the shadow from his hat's brim obscured the con artist's eyes.
Beneath the shadow, transparent eyes gleamed.
It looked just like a monster lurking at the bottom of a well, drawing people in.
Yes. A monster.
There were plenty of 'defective products' that looked monstrous,
but for some reason, the Fredric brothers saw the man before them as the 'real' monster.
"The old tales where a handsome prince slays a fearsome monster and lifts the curse from a beautiful maiden......"
"......"
"Aren't they getting a bit tiresome by now?"
"......"
"Don't you think?"
......
All lies.
In truth, the con artist Kraus didn't think those slaves were all that special.
Just bizarre.
Repulsive, loathsome, horrific.
Anyone who saw them would spit curses or pour out mockery.
"Honestly, it makes me want to puke......"
"......"
"This guy has a weak stomach, you see. If he had a strong one, he wouldn't be a con artist—he'd be a fence for stolen goods......"
"Unbelievable......"
Leaving the slave dormitory,
the con artist pressed his hat down firmly and sighed wearily.
The soldier found the con artist's demeanor ridiculous.
Where had that mysterious, charismatic figure from before the slaves gone?
Now, just a shabby con artist stood before him.
"What kind of person are you, really? Do you even have a 'real personality' to begin with?"
"Oh. I'm always true......"
"Nonsense......"
"How can I win people's hearts if I'm not true to myself? To deceive others, you must first deceive yourself. This guy makes up lies that don't exist, but he's no liar without substance. He's always ready to take responsibility for his own words."
"......"
"If this guy accuses someone of being trash, he'll do his utmost to turn them into 'real' trash."
A strange sense of pride colored the con artist's voice as he spoke.
"......Isn't that just calling them trash?"
"Haha!"
The con artist burst into laughter at the soldier's cynical remark.
Was it because their names were similar?
Or because they shared similar fates in the 'original story'?
An air like old friends of ten years hung between them.
"A con artist's job is to package the ordinary as extraordinary."
"......"
"Now that this guy has called those monsters 'special,' he'll do his utmost to make them special. Being true means that. Giving your all to even the most absurd task. That's how people get enchanted by the ridiculous lie and hand over their money."
Tap, tap, tap. The con artist struck the floor with his cane.
The rhythm was oddly upbeat.
"This guy sells lies at a premium, and those ones will raise the value of my lies. So yes, they are special to me. To a con artist, 'special' means they make money. What could be more special than that in this world?"
"......Now I understand why His Excellency called in a con artist like you."
Special because they make money.
It pierced to the core of the 'Riddle' house, in a way.
A family where the head was determined not by blood or tradition,
but solely by 'the ability to make money.'
Wasn't it the Riddle family motto to sell anything if it turned a profit?
"Who knows. Maybe this guy is just acting like the 'Your Excellency' you respect to win your favor."
"......"
"What do you think?"
"......To me, you seem pretty genuine."
"Why?"
"There are people who pretend to be saints, but no one pretends to be vulgar. There's no gain in it."
The con artist let out a smirk at the soldier's 'common-sense' words.
It was blatant mockery.
Irritated, the soldier snapped.
"Why the laugh?"
"Just... you seem to admire your master so much, yet you know so little about him."
"What?"
"Well, admiration is the emotion farthest from understanding......"
The con artist prided himself on being unmatched in reading people's hearts.
Hidden behind authority and talent, it might not be obvious,
but he could quickly guess what thoughts lay beneath someone's facade.
No one pretends to be vulgar?
Wrong. There was someone who perfectly played the vulgar fool.
"Whether pretending to be vulgar brings gain or not, acting isn't always for visible profit."
"......True enough."
"Anyway, my role ends here....... I've done my job by making them believe the lie, so now I need to rest and plan the 'illusions' for the circus......"
"Lazy."
"Just doing what's necessary. Talking more to those slaves would only expose that this guy isn't all that impressive. That he's just a con artist who makes people believe fakes. The one to find their 'real' specialness is someone else."
"Hm?"
"Ah. Right on time."
Leaning softly on his cane,
the con artist glanced down the corridor.
Someone was approaching.
And the con artist knew exactly who it was.
No one else exuded such a mark's scent.
A con artist can spot a sucker from ten miles away, after all.
"Greetings, Your Excellency the Count."
"Your Excellency."
The con artist and soldier bowed in unison.
The man emerging from the corridor's shadows
nodded in acknowledgment.
"Did you talk well with the slaves?"
"Yes."
"What was their reaction?"
"They're still quite anxious, so they need a bit more time."
"Hmm."
The man removed the glove from his right hand,
placed it on the con artist's shoulder.
Closed his eyes as if pondering something for a moment,
then nodded and withdrew his hand.
"As expected, they're usable."
"Thank you."
Watching his employer desperately play the authoritative noble,
the con artist smirked.
Truly, there was no bigger mark in the world.
"I trust you."
"......"
"You will surely create the greatest circus."
"It will be a show that satisfies everyone."
"Yes. The greatest show on earth."
And,
because liking marks was an inescapable trait of con artists,
Kraus couldn't help but realize it in that moment.
That he too would end up,
like that soldier, loyal to this man.
......
"Extend your hand."