The Inadequate Butler's Birthday Gift -2-
The day after the first snow fell, a blizzard began raging outside the window. The snow that had piled up overnight blanketed the streets in white, and the mountains, once ablaze with vibrant autumn leaves, were turning as white as shaved ice.
"Nuuuuwuun!!"
The young lady flung open the window and reached out to touch the snow. Wrapped tightly in her blankets, grunting with effort, she ignored the butler's warnings about catching a cold and kept trying to make contact with the flakes.
"Ricardo, it's snowing so much outside."
Her eyes sparkled as she gazed out the window. She shot me a quick glance, then scooped some snow from the windowsill with her finger and popped it into her mouth.
"Euuugh... it's not tasty."
She was whining that nature's gift didn't suit her palate.
"Eating it will get you sick."
"I know."
"Then why'd you eat it?"
"It looked tasty."
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. I nodded at her logic and peered out at the falling snow. Hamel was buried under massive flakes. Yesterday's first snow had been beautiful, but today it looked like a disaster. Just like the first snow back at the training grounds—pretty at first, then a nightmare the next day. The thought of shoveling it all filled me with dread.
When am I gonna clear this shit?
What a pain in the ass.
The young lady had the window wide open, reveling in winter. She caught swirling snowflakes in her hand, watched them melt in her palm, and flashed a mischievous grin like a naughty kid.
"Oh..."
Whoooosh!
"Eek..."
A fierce gust of icy wind blasted snow right into her face.
"Hiet! It's cold..."
Covered head to toe in the frigid powder, she froze on the spot.
"Achoo! Uuugh, so cold."
Her favorability toward snow plummeted in real time. I closed the open window and launched into a scolding.
"I told you not to open it—you'll catch a cold."
"The wind hates me."
"It's because you're too pretty."
"Ung..."
She clutched her blanket tight and nodded. It was one of those days when I hated work. I wanted to crawl under the covers and laze around, but my empty wallet mercilessly shoved the butler out the door. I'd blown a ton of cash yesterday, and the young lady's birthday was creeping up.
I barely shook off the laziness weighing on my shoulders and grabbed the coat hanging on the chair. A black wool coat she'd bought me as a birthday gift three years ago—full of memories, and the most expensive thing I owned.
Draping it over my arm drew a question mark over her head.
"Where you going?"
"Treasure hunting."
"Treasure hunting? I wanna come!"
"It's outside."
"..."
Excited by the allure of treasure hunting at first, she peeked at the brutal wind outside and shuddered.
"I'll freeze to death."
She neatly abandoned the idea. Staring out the window, she suggested staying home with her and embracing the NEET life.
"You said leaving home means suffering."
It was tempting, but the treasure hiding in its cave might slip away, so I regretfully turned her down.
"I've got something I have to do. I'll be a passionate NEET starting tomorrow."
"I'm not a NEET. I'm the house guard."
She got mad at me for dissing her job, which she'd stuck with passionately for two years without a single day off. She held out her warm Gomtangi.
"Take this at least—it'll keep you warm."
Woof?
Gomtangi, now a hand warmer courtesy of his owner. The dog looked baffled and licked her hand.
"Eek... that tickles."
Grrr...
"Stay still. Ricardo needs to take you."
Grrr...
Like his owner, Gomtangi hated going out. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Pfft... Nah, I'm good. It'll be quick anyway."
I returned him to her arms and strapped on Tirving, its black sheath gleaming at my waist. Before leaving the room, I turned to look at her hugging the dog.
"Anything you wanna eat?"
"Hmm... something warm."
"Green tea it is, then."
"That's not for humans."
Teasing her was the most fun thing in the world. She waved me off, cheering on her young butler to bring back something tasty. Her bare white wrist stood out emptily.
Gotta get her that gift...
I'd regret it forever if I didn't. Gripping the doorknob, I recalled the serendipitous encounter from the novel and bowed to the waving young lady.
"I'll be back."
"Yeah. I'll guard the house good."
"Got it."
The door creaked shut, and soon my figure, braving the snowstorm, appeared outside the window.
Whoooosh!
Snow piling up on my head.
"Hieeek!!! Ricardo's turning into a snowman!!"
Grinning at her horrified shout, I headed toward my destination: the hideout of the Escape Master. The novel mentioned that after breaking out, he hid in a Hamel Mountains lair. I prayed in my heart that he'd succeeded.
Wonder if he's there.
It was about time for his breakout. For the first time in ages, I was craving some bugs.
Inside the pitch-dark cave, a man in prisoner rags huddled with his knees drawn up, shivering from the cold. His name was Pascal, a villain who'd massacred countless adventurers.
"Uwaaa... so cold..."
Trembling in his gaunt frame, Pascal struck stones together to start a fire, looking like a Stone Age ape. His clothes were rags from the escape, and his unkempt hair from prison days was matted and greasy.
Clack...
The striking flint echoed dully in the cave.
"If it weren't for that damn brat, I wouldn't be suffering like this."
The redheaded swordsman who'd interrupted his art session in the Hamel Mountains. Pascal resented him. That kid who'd mocked his art. And now, the one who'd made mirrors unbearable.
Pascal hated him to his core. After that day, he couldn't look in a mirror.
-Mantis.
-Insect exhibition.
-Wow... how does a human face look that much like one...?
Seeing his reflection made him think of mantises. Even cockroaches scared him now, but the shock of being called insect-like paled next to the terror of admitting it every time he glimpsed himself. Spotting his face in a cave puddle, he shook his head in fierce denial.
"No. I'm handsome. He's the ugly one. Not me."
Vowing revenge, he struck the flint harder. He'd show him. Someday. He kept at it, fueled by that promise.
"I'll kill him."
Brutally.
"I'll get revenge."
He'd repay every humiliation tenfold, cursing the bastard in his mind. As his rage peaked, a pop sounded, and flames caught on the dry twigs.
Feeling the warmth, Pascal hurriedly fed his prepared kindling to the spark.
"...See? I can do it."
He felt good. A sniffle escaped, tears welling up.
"Sniff..."
Overcome with emotion, he bawled like a child.
"Yeah... I'll just start over from scratch."
Because he had black magic. The kind that controlled people. Powerful enough for the heretics to scout him. He'd refused at first for his free art, but now he couldn't be picky about hot or cold water.
The moment he resolved to join the heretics for bloody revenge—
Step.
Footsteps echoed from the cave's depths. Pascal snatched his dagger.
Tch... pursuers? I covered my tracks perfectly.
He'd been meticulous to shake any tails, so this must be a skilled hunter. He swallowed hard. Could be an adventurer. Or a pursuer. Probably the latter.
Maybe it was a good thing. A chance to replenish his depleted dark mana.
Dark mana for black magic varied by user. Some burned emotions. Others traded memories. The empire's famed black mage sacrificed body parts—restrictive, but explosive in power.
His method? Murder. The most common, universal way. Seeing opportunity in danger, Pascal gazed wistfully at his hard-won fire.
Gotta put it out...?
Hating to lose it, but the approaching steps forced a choice.
"Damn it...!"
He squeezed his eyes shut and stomped it out with his bare foot. The searing pain burned hot, nearly drawing a groan, but...
Endure... endure...
Covering his mouth, he toughed it out with artistic spirit.
Step... step...
"He should be around here."
The intruder's voice bounced off the walls. Young male, twenties maybe. I can take him. Confident in ambushes from his prison days—not just slacking—Pascal infused his cherished dark mana into the dagger. It rippled black.
Siiiip... he should be around here.
As the muttering grew closer, Pascal sprang from his crouch, hurling himself at the shadowy figure.
Gotcha.
Perfect timing, unforeseen by the foe. His desperation shone, nailing the ambush. Chills of ecstasy ran through him. He grinned his signature sleazy smile.
"Kekeke... you're screwed—"
Slowly lifting his head to savor the despair, the blood, the terror in his victim's eyes. A venomous smirk as he stared at the man before him.
Then Pascal's face twisted in horror.
"Wha...?"
Red hair. The one he most wanted to meet after escape—but least now. The man impassively caught his full-force dagger strike. With just two fingers.
He checked if his clothes were scratched, sighed in relief, and said,
"Whoa~ Long time no see!"
The guy who'd thrown him in prison beamed brightly, waving.
"Thought you'd turned into a pupa, but you're still kicking, huh?"
Pascal screamed at him.
"No...!!!"
"Why pick on me!!!"
The man chuckled softly.
"Too pricey for the insect expo..."
Pascal lunged. Burning all remaining dark mana to flee, ignoring the pain stabbing his heart, he swung a fist at Ricardo—but
"Mantis Punch...!"
At the mocking bastard, Pascal teared up.
Fuck!
Forget revenge—he vowed never to tangle with this guy again.