A Flower Blooming in the Plague (4)

"I am Belgian. I have come to make a most intriguing proposal to a fellow practitioner of death."

Belgian, the disgraced noble, bowed elegantly. It was only when he stepped closer that his face became clear. Under the red light, the right side of his face was covered by a mask.

"Seeing that crow mask, you must be the one they call Dr. Schnabel. Or have I come to the wrong place?"

"No. You have the right person."

At my reply, the man named Belgian smiled warmly. My brow furrowed at the sight of his grin—though, of course, he couldn't see it through my mask.

"Excellent. Let us resume our conversation, then. I have heard much of what you have accomplished down in this pit."

"I was merely fortunate."

"Haha! Have you wallowed in this gutter for so long that you have forgotten your own nobility? Humility is a virtue championed only by the penniless rabble who have nothing else to show. Have you ever seen a magnificent peacock fold its tail and hide? Even if we stand in this mud, noble souls like us ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠must proudly spread our wings when we possess the power to show off."

As the man grandly preached his convictions, Eri's face stiffened.

"Ugh. What a pretentious snob," she muttered in a voice meant only for us. I couldn't have agreed with her more.

"Ah, I have rambled on. A bad habit of mine. My apologies."

"It is fine. But what is the meaning of this ghoul you sent to me?"

"Hmm... where should I begin to help you best comprehend my grand blueprint...?"

Belgian smoothly stroked his unmarred left jaw before speaking again.

"Yes, let us start here. I intended to teach order to those uncivilized beasts of H-Sector. I needed to completely unify that chaotic cesspool under my feet."

"For a pretentious snob, his dreams are awfully big—mph!"

Wangcho's rough hand clamped over Eri's mouth. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered in a voice loud enough for me to hear.

"Watch your mouth, kid. That guy is Tier 2."

"What?! Why is a Tier 2 mage down here?"

"How should I know, brat? But a guy like him could easily unify H-Sector."

Ah. So he was Tier 2. I could only sense up to Tier 1.

In this world, a person can only perceive up to one tier higher than their own. A Tier 0 can only sense up to Tier 1, and a Tier 1 can only sense up to Tier 2. Because of this, if a Tier 1 were to meet a Tier 7, they might mistake them for a Tier 2.

"So for now, just focus on humoring him, kid."

Eri gulped at Wangcho's warning. Fortunately, her muttering didn't seem to have reached Belgian's ears.

Under the red light, Belgian continued to speak, using theatrical, exaggerated gestures like a stage actor.

"But to achieve my goal, I required an army to do my bidding. Fortunately, the perfect opportunity to strike has arrived."

I didn't need him to explain. For a dark mage, raising a ghoul from scratch takes a significant amount of mana. Since mana isn't exactly abundant for everyone in this world, raising ghouls this way usually limits them to one per day. Consequently, dark mages often seek out places saturated with negative concepts and concentrated mana. Finding a good spot can save dozens of times the mana. Think of it as looking for a dry place to start a fire. And naturally, using an existing spark is much easier than starting a fire from scratch. The dark mage seemed to have taken advantage of this.

"Were you waiting for the ghouls to manifest naturally?"

"Oho. Do you even dabble in magic? Splendid."

However, there were those present who couldn't keep up with our conversation.

"Mage talk is always so complicated. Kid, you've been studying magic lately. Did you get any of that?"

"I haven't even finished the basics yet. What about you, boss?"

"Well, I reached Tier 1 through something else, not magic."

Belgian's brow furrowed at their whispering. But it was only for a moment. He quickly smoothed his expression and spoke with an air of immense condescension.

"I suppose enlightening the ignorant masses is the duty of those born to rule."

Tap, tap. Belgian struck the ground twice with his staff.

The shadow at his feet stretched out, seeping into the headless corpse of Narenkönig lying in the mud.

Crack! Snap!

"Eek!"

Eri shrieked and hid behind Wangcho. The massive, limp body from moments ago staggered to its feet with a grotesque grinding of bones. Even as dark red blood dripped from the severed neck, the corpse stood tall beside Belgian.

Belgian tapped the headless clown's shoulder with his staff and spoke arrogantly.

"Taming a beast from birth is arduous, but slipping a leash over its neck is simple enough. To put it in simpler terms for you commoners, since this ghoul arose naturally, all it required was a bit of lead."

Lead carried the symbolic meaning of "the metal that traps the soul." I didn't know the exact scientific principle behind it; it was just a law of this world. Because of this, dark mages would drive lead into the skull or neck of a corpse to use as an antenna. As a side note, this was why the standard strategy for dealing with the undead was always to smash their heads first.

"Fate itself favored me. I even stumbled upon such a magnificent corpse this winter. It made preparing my grand undertaking so much easier."

Belgian tapped the headless clown's knee with his staff.

"However, the issue with Tier 1 corpses is that their lingering egos are far too strong. To think it would break free of my control the moment it laid eyes on its killer. I had originally sent it to escort you."

An escort? I could tell right then that this man was completely out of his mind.

"Normally, I would demand compensation for you ruining my precious collection. However..."

Belgian looked up at the headless corpse. His gaze turned cold.

"It seems I was the one who committed a discourtesy. I had no idea this creature shared a grudge with you. Allow me to apologize for sending such a messenger."

Snap! He flicked his fingers, and the clown's body swelled up as if filled with gas. *Pop!* With ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a hissing sound of escaping air, the massive body vanished. Only a puddle of murky liquid remained where the clown had stood, slowly seeping into Belgian's shadow.

"My apologies. I swear, I never imagined this man was entangled in a grudge with you."

"It is fine. So, why did you seek me out?"

"Ah, as for that."

Belgian clapped his hands with a bright smile.

"I heard that you heal people using nothing but a needle and thread, without a single drop of holy magic."

"..."

"That technique of grafting missing skin with another's! Surely, you must also be highly skilled in the art of chimera creation. Am I wrong?"

"Hmm..."

I couldn't exactly deny it. When I was studying magic, I did think it might be possible if I played my cards right. During my training in the United States in my past life, I had learned limb transplantation, so I had a rough idea of how to do it. Of course, I had absolutely no intention of ever trying it. I had no desire to end up in a situation where a creature would look at me and whimper, "Julian... big brother... let's play..."

But Belgian seemed to take my silence as confirmation.

"Therefore, I wish to make you an offer. Why not join forces with me? I must admit, my knowledge of dark magic is entirely self-taught. If my army were to combine with your chimera techniques, conquering this cesspool would be child's play."

"I must decline."

It wasn't even worth considering. Why on earth would I team up with someone like him? I have no interest in boarding a sinking ship. I hadn't read the original novel, but I could tell without looking that this dark mage was destined for ruin. People who play with human lives like that never meet a good end. Above all, I was the protagonist. There was absolutely zero reason for me to join hands with a villain.

"I will say it as many times as it takes. I have no interest, Mr. Belgian."

"Hmm. Is my offer insufficient? Then let me sweeten the deal."

He extended his free hand toward me.

"Once I rule H-Sector, I will provide you with a steady supply of research materials. There are currently those who dare rebel against my reign. I shall hand their surviving families over to you."

"...Do those include children?"

"Oh, do you require ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them? I can provide as many as you like. This place is crawling with useless runts who do nothing but waste food."

Eri's shoulders flinched at his words. Seeing her reaction alongside Belgian's answer made my decision easy.

Belgian. You and I can never walk the same path.

They say that in modern web novels, murder isn't a dealbreaker for a companion, but targeting families and children is a different story. Even I couldn't redeem a guy like this.

"I am sorry."

As I spoke, I secretly slipped the silver bullet into Otto's hand. I could shoot it myself, but our opponent was a Tier 2 superhuman. Otto would have a much better chance of hitting him than I would. I wasn't worried about whether it would work on a superhuman; this bullet was famous enough to have been used in the assassination of a count long ago.

But Belgian, utterly oblivious to the fact that I had already made up my mind, continued to cling desperately.

"Why do you hesitate? Are you not also seeking vengeance against those highborn bastards?"

"What makes you think that?"

"There is no need to hide it. We are birds of a feather, you and I."

Belgian removed his mask. The porcelain covering the right side of his face and forehead vanished, revealing a face horribly distorted by burn scars.

"I, too, was framed and cast down just like you. There was a time I worked myself to the bone, believing my father would finally acknowledge me as his son if I performed well. But look at me now."

He moved his right jawbone, which was exposed where the flesh had burned away, and pointed to his forehead.

"Behold! This glorious curse! The elders of my house called me a blemish and branded me with this filthy mark. Surely you, too, bear a similar scar?"

"..."

Now I understood. This man hadn't sought me out simply because he wanted my skills. He must have heard the rumors circulating about me in Limbus Pit. The rumors about a healer from the upper districts who failed a treatment in a ducal house and was cast out... something like that.

"Tell me the name of the family you wish to destroy. Once my vengeance is complete, I shall aid you in yours. Just say the word. Is it the Rotmund family? The Elfenbein family? Or perhaps the Church?"

He extended his hand once more. A desperate longing seemed to radiate from his gesture.

"Please, do not reject my hand. I am a sentimental man by nature, and I cannot bear to leave someone like you behind."

"..."

I was starting to grow tired of listening. Misunderstandings were all well and good, but it was a problem when even the villains were misunderstanding me. Since this wasn't the kind of misunderstanding I wanted to exploit, I reached for my mask to clear up Belgian's delusion.

I quietly raised my hand and untied the mask's chin strap. Realizing that I was about to remove my mask, Belgian's face flushed with a faint, ecstatic joy.

"Yes! That is it!"

Wangcho's gaze also locked onto my face. He had always kept his distance, claiming he wasn't curious about my identity, but it seemed he had been secretly dying to know.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, I pulled off the mask.

"I am sorry... but I have never once confirmed those rumors."

*Click.* The plague doctor mask slipped away from my face. Under the red light, my bare face was revealed. There was no monster's brand, no rotting flesh, and no hideous scars. It was a perfectly normal—even pale and pristine—face.

At the sight, Belgian's expression instantly froze.

*Chirp, chirp.* Only the sound of crickets in the gutter filled the alleyway.

I was the one who broke the awkward silence.

"Cough...!"

*Damn it.* I started ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coughing the moment I took off the mask. The air in the lower districts really was too toxic.

Only after hearing my cough did Wangcho let out a dry laugh.

"Ha... Doctor. You've been hiding a face like that this whole time?"

"What is wrong with my face?"

"With a face like that, you could marry into any noble family as a matrilocal husband and live in luxury for the rest of your days. Why on earth did you come down to this gutter and cover it up? No, wait. In a red-light district, I suppose you *had* to wear a mask with a face like that."

Eri, who had been hiding behind Wangcho, peeked her head out.

"I know, right? I never understood why he wore that mask every time we went out."

"Kid, you knew what he looked like?"

"That's why I understood it even less."

Even Otto nodded in agreement.

"..."

What is with this atmosphere? Is it really that big of a deal? I pondered for a moment before shaking my head.

No matter how I look at it, it's not that amazing.

Good looks are half skin quality, and skin quality is half hygiene. In a world where people barely even use soap, my well-managed, daily-cleansed skin was bound to look like a divine blessing. On top of that, I spent most of my time indoors and blocked out the harsh air with my mask. I could admit my skin was nice. But as for my actual features... well.

Who would even like a gloomy face like this?

I could agree that it looked somewhat delicate, but I couldn't agree with the rest. There were plenty of nobles in the upper districts who were far better looking than me. Even Belgian, a disgraced bastard, had a perfectly handsome left side of his face.

"Even if you flatter me, there is nothing I can do for you."

"No, I'm serious. Doctor, do you not look in the mirror?"

"Eri. That is enough."

However, it seemed my clean appearance was a terrible insult to someone else. Especially to a disgraced bastard who looked like he hadn't washed in years.

"Lies..."

Belgian's lips trembled. His eyes, which had been filled with camaraderie, joy, and anticipation, began to waver. Soon, they distorted with uncontrollable betrayal and inferiority.

"It's a lie...! You... there is no way you are one of my kind!"

A dark energy began to creep up from beneath his feet.

"Did you... deceive me...?"

His trembling hand gripped his staff tightly. Mana began to swirl, vibrating the surrounding air.

"How dare you!! Pretending to be noble, pretending to be scarred, mocking me?! In the end, you are no different from those fools! You wanted to laugh at me! You wanted to make a spectacle of my suffering!!"

He shrieked, raising his staff.

Well. I tried to clear up the misunderstanding, but he misunderstood in a completely different direction. I guess that's the nature of misunderstandings. Next time, maybe I shouldn't try to correct them.

"You deceiver! I will tear that pretty skin from your face and turn you into a true monster!!"

*Boom!* With Belgian's roar, black mana erupted from the tip of his staff. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial.

I immediately listened to the words of his incantation. An incantation is a bargain with the world. It is a negotiation: *I understand this much of the world's laws, so take less of my mana and allow this magic to manifest.* In other words, if you can decipher the incantation, you can predict what spell your opponent is about to cast.

He threw the vial to the ground. *Shatter!* A bright yellow liquid spilled from the broken glass. Looking at the pus-like substance, I had a rough idea of what magic he was trying to cast. A standard incantation usually takes about a minute, so I still had time to react.

"It is a plague curse!"

I turned my bag upside down, dumping its contents onto the ground. I remembered having some masks inside—not as effective as my gas mask, but they would do. Of course, since this was a Tier 2 curse, a simple mask wouldn't block it completely. But it would be enough to downgrade a lethal curse to a merely painful one.

But before I could even grab a mask, Belgian abruptly cut his incantation short.

Startled, I locked eyes with him. He was looking at me with a sickening smirk.

"Did you think I would give a potential partner time to counter me? How disappointing. I do not underestimate you."

Belgian staggered. It was likely because he had used a massive amount of mana to force-shorten an incantation that should have taken a minute. But in exchange, he was able to trigger the magic without giving us any time to react.

A black fog enveloped us. A sweet yet nauseating stench of decay assaulted my nose.

I quickly pulled on my gas mask and shouted to the others.

"Hold your breath!"

As soon as the black fog dissipated and everyone was revealed, I immediately checked their conditions.

"Everyone, if you feel feverish or in pain, tell me your symptoms immediately—"

"Huh? Nothing's happening though?"

Contrary to my expectations, no one was in pain. Eri sniffed the air and tilted her head, while Wangcho simply patted his body, showing no signs of discomfort.

Belgian, who was staggering from sudden mana exhaustion, also grimaced.

"How can this be? Did it misfire?"

He pulled out another vial, threw it to the ground, and conjured the black fog. This time, it was a silent cast.

"Ugh..."

Though he staggered from the extreme drain on his mana, his pride forced him to complete the silent cast. Once again, the fog rose and dissipated.

"...Is that guy a fraud?"

Eri muttered, completely unharmed. This time, her words seemed to reach Belgian's ears.

"You lowly wench... ugh...!"

But having completely depleted his mana, he looked as though he could barely even lean on his staff.

"This is impossible... Why is it not working? And why is it consuming so much mana?!"

Belgian's trembling gaze swept the ground. Eventually, his eyes locked onto my spilled belongings. Specifically, a vial that looked remarkably similar to the one he had been holding.

"Could it be...!"

"Did you also possess the catalyst?!"

Seeing his reaction, I asked him just in case.

"By any chance... did you use smallpox pus as your catalyst?"

Belgian's shoulders flinched. It was as good as a confession.

Only then did I realize what kind of plague curse he had been trying to cast.

A smallpox curse?

Of course it wouldn't work. I had already secretly vaccinated everyone in D-Sector, including the people standing here.

To use a metaphor, he was trying to light wet wood on fire. It wouldn't even burn well if he poured oil on it, yet he had gone ahead and used silent casting. No wonder his mana was completely drained. On top of that, his spell formula didn't account for the variable of immunity, which caused his "bargain" with the world to fail, driving up the mana consumption rate even further.

Oh dear. Of all the plagues to use, why did it have to be smallpox...

I thought as I watched Belgian frantically checking his remaining mana.

Indeed. No matter how hard you work, nothing beats the sheer luck of a misunderstanding protagonist.