Chapter 137: Laying the Groundwork (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 137: Laying the Groundwork (4)
Darka, the tribal chief of Lake Fortress.
Senile, she had forgotten who she was and the people around her. One might think this is just what happens with old age, but for Darka, there was a specific trigger.
Darka had a son.
His name was Pascal. Since ancient times, northerners had considered becoming a Northguard the greatest honor, and Pascal was no exception.
Pascal was a respectable Northguard and was well-liked by all. With his skill and good character, Pascal was poised to become the next chief, with the tribe's fervent support.
But misfortune can strike wherever people live, even without a gumiho present. One day, Pascal went out to fight demonic beasts as usual and met with a tragic end.
He returned as a corpse, colder than the frigid North itself.
The village was plunged into grief over the death of Pascal—their future leader, friend, and comrade-in-arms.
The mental shock of losing her son caused Darka to lose consciousness. When she awoke, she had become the senile old woman she was today.
In other words, I was now playing the role of Karami, an old friend of Darka's dead son, Pascal.
Of course, a fictional friend.
While it might seem best to impersonate the man himself, the difficulty of such an act would be on another level. His appearance, for one, and then there was all the TMI that only he would know.
No matter that I was a transmigrator, I couldn't possibly know everything. Even if she was an important NPC in the story, it was practically impossible to memorize every detail about someone who wasn't a main character.
On the other hand, it was plausible for him to have had an old friend, and this role offered some resistance to the distortions of her memory.
There had been some friction during our first meeting, but that was no problem at all. She was a senile old woman, after all. Any ill feelings she might have had toward me had already vanished into the far side of her memory.
I whispered to Darka with a pleasant smile, as if speaking to a friend's mother.
My considerably leveled-up [Master of Negotiation] skill activated, engraving plausible words into Darka's mind like a form of hypnosis.
“Chief, the tribesmen have returned from the hunt. How about saying a word of encouragement to them?”
“Yes, you've worked hard. Go on in and rest.”
“…Chief, why is that man here?”
“Jorn. Balkal’s friend Karami is here! I thought he was dead, so it's such a relief that he's alive. That boy Balkal, where has he wandered off to? His friend is here, but he's nowhere to be seen.”
Jorn showed a flicker of bewilderment but quickly composed his expression.
“Chief, Pascal never had such a friend. That man is a slave trader who came to steal your jewels. Please, think carefully.”
“What? He's here for my jewels?”
Darka looked at me suspiciously.
Darka, who paid no mind to what others said, listened attentively to Jorn. It must mean she trusted him that much.
But who was I?
Pascal's best friend, Karami.
I was her son's friend, closer than any subordinate.
I began to tell a story that only ‘we’ would know.
“The memories are coming back to me now. Every time we went hunting, that rascal Pascal would get himself hurt and scolded more times than I can count.”
“Pascal was always a troublemaker. He never listened.”
“But whenever Pascal and I came back from playing, you would always make us your fur-root soup, Chief. I still can't forget the taste.”
“Yes… that's right. Pascal loved fur-root soup so much, I used to make it for him every day.”
A wistful look filled Darka's eyes as she reminisced. Then, her gaze sharpened venomously as she glared at Jorn.
“Jorn! Karami is Pascal's dearest friend, and he's like a son to me! How dare you paint him as a villain!”
“Chief. It's all his lies.”
“Silence! If you slander Karami any further, I won't stand for it!”
“…”
Jorn finally fell silent.
“Get out of my sight!”
“Yes…”
“I have such a worthless subordinate. I apologize on his behalf.”
“Haha, he must have mistaken me for someone else. People make mistakes.”
“How can you be so kind-hearted? If only Pascal were half as good as you.”
Affection dripped from Darka's eyes as she looked at me. In contrast, Jorn, who had been ordered out by Darka, shot me a murderous glare as he left the tent.
I should probably wait a little before leaving.
If I went out now, I might get killed.
Anyway, the seduction of Darka was a success. Of course, I'd have to visit her periodically to inject more false memories, but that was a small price to pay.
However, there was one small drawback to this plan.
“Here, Karami. Have some of this. The winter potatoes are very sweet.”
Darka offered me something to eat.
But I'd been eating since earlier and felt like my stomach was about to burst.
I declined with a good-natured smile.
“Haha, Chief. I've already eaten a lot.”
“What are you talking about? I don't remember seeing you eat anything. The Karami in my memory ate much more than this. Are you perhaps…”
“…On second thought, I am quite hungry. I'll eat it gratefully.”
“Yes, eat this, and this too. You're skin and bones, what is this? You can't survive in the harsh North with a body like that.”
The insane combo of a grandmother who can't stand to see her grandson go hungry and a dementia patient resulted in an endless flood of food.
I finally escaped the tent just before everything I'd eaten threatened to come back up.
*
I returned to my tent.
The living space I shared with Azyeth. Despite all the measures we'd taken against the cold, gentle snowflakes still fell whenever Azyeth was around.
An uninvited guest arrived.
“I’m sure I warned you. Not to pull any tricks in the village.”
It was the chieftain, Jorn.
He exuded a murderous aura, as if he might draw his tomahawk at any moment.
It seemed he didn't like that I was being doted on by Darka. What a jealous fellow.
“Tricks? I merely helped the chief reminisce about her fond memories. Thanks to me, she smiled a lot.”
“How did you get to the chief? The guards reported that they never saw you leave your tent.”
“Ah, that’s~”
What else could it be?
The invisibility robe I bought with points.
It was the item I found most useful. Its performance was excellent, and above all, it was fun.
Doesn't everyone dream of becoming invisible at least once when they're young? Walking past people while invisible is an incredible thrill.
“That's a trade secret.”
But of course, I had no obligation to tell him. I smiled lightly and brought a finger to my lips.
Jorn's fist twitched, his displeasure palpable. If Azyeth hadn't been there, that fist would have already been planted in my face.
No matter what schemes I pulled or how openly I provoked him, there was nothing Jorn could do. Not that I had any intention of razing this village to the ground, of course.
He should consider himself incredibly lucky that I'm a nice slave trader.
“You don't need to worry so much. In the end, everyone will be happy.”
*
“How was the hunt today?”
The night sky of Eisengar was beautifully adorned with the aurora and the Milky Way.
It was time to build some rapport with Azyeth. Karami strolled with her along the outskirts of the village, bringing up simple, everyday topics, nothing grand.
Azyeth looked up at the sky, recalling the day's events.
“It was… fascinating.”
“What did you find fascinating?”
“Everything.”
Everything was fascinating.
The way they moved and hunted as an organized group was fascinating, and so was the sight of the members laughing and chatting with each other.
The scene of them rejoicing after a successful hunt, the villagers coming to celebrate with them—all of it.
“But… I made a mistake. People… almost got hurt.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“But everyone came back safely, didn't they? That must be thanks to your hard work, Miss Azyeth.”
Hard work…?
She wasn't so sure about that.
“I just… felt like I had to.”
“Hmm, I'm not sure what was going through your mind, Miss Azyeth, but it's always a good thing to do something with intention.”
“Is… that so?”
“It is.”
She didn't really understand, but if Karami said so, it must be true. Azyeth decided to leave it at that.
Azyeth, who had been walking at a distance from Karami, suddenly recalled something the other members had said.
“Rami… are you a bad person?”
“Me?”
Azyeth nodded.
“People… said Rami is a bad person.”
“My, it seems someone is slandering me again.”
“Slandering?”
“Of course. There's no one in the world as kind as I am.”
“Is that so…?”
“It is.”
Once again, Azyeth didn't think too deeply about it. Whether Karami was a good person or a bad one, it didn't really matter to her.
“Tomorrow, let's set aside some time to talk with Darka. I think you'll have a unique experience talking with her, Miss Azyeth.”
“Okay…”
“It's getting colder now that it's night. Let's go in and get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
On the way back to the tent.
Following behind Karami, Azyeth studied his back. There was something about his gait that always made her tilt her head in confusion.
“Rami, why do you walk with your hands behind your back…?”
Azyeth herself, and everyone else, walked while swinging their arms, but only Karami walked with his hands clasped behind him.
This trivial habit that no one else paid attention to had sparked Azyeth's curiosity.
“Ah, you mean this?”
Karami reacted as if he hadn't noticed, looking down at his hands. He often found himself clasping them behind his back without realizing it.
“I used to walk normally before. Clasping my hands behind my back is a recent habit.”
“…?”
“Because my hands feel empty.”
When he was with Mirabelle and Rin, he would hold their hands or carry them. Karami had gotten used to that, so now that he was walking alone, his hands felt empty.
It was more psychologically comforting to hold his own hands than to let his empty ones swing about aimlessly.
“Empty…”
Azyeth looked at her own hands.
She felt like she could understand what Karami meant by ‘empty’. The moment she heard his words, she, too, felt a sense of emptiness.
“This emptiness… how do you fill it?”
“There are many ways, I suppose. Putting your hands in your pockets is one way, or clasping them behind your back like me. Hmm, or maybe holding hands with someone else. Well, you can't do that one alone, though.”
Holding hands.
Of all the solutions Karami suggested, that one echoed most clearly in Azyeth's ears.
What would it feel like to hold someone's hand?
For Azyeth, who had never been allowed even a shred of warmth, it was something she could never know.
Azyeth clenched her fists for no particular reason.