Rude? It's Chivalry (4)
"......What the hell is this."
Jackson's eyes froze on the blue screen of the magic device.
Depositor: Edelin Publishing House (Head Office)
Amount: 450,000,000 gold
The brutal shouts that had filled the living room moments ago had vanished without a trace. In the silence, only the faint crackle of the magic stone burning away could be heard.
Jackson was a loan shark.
He was as adept at ruthless calculations as he was at squeezing blood and tears from his victims without mercy. Push too hard, and they'd off themselves.
Anyway.
There was no way the empire's top publishing house would wire this kind of money to some no-name fallen baron's account.
450 million...... This isn't something you earn by luck.
450 million gold—enough to buy this entire rural territory or build a whole building in the capital's bustling district.
"Kyle. What the hell did you do......?"
Jackson's voice sharpened even more than before.
That damn Era bastard. I can see right through what he's thinking.
He was disappointed. Turning me into a lifelong slave or selling Ellie to a brothel would've netted more long-term profit than the principal plus interest.
To a loan shark, the most annoying kind of debtor was the one who paid up clean and neat.
I crossed my arms with the most relaxed expression I could muster. Truth be told, I was screaming inside too. I was scared shitless. If Ellie got sold off, it'd be a real disaster.
We hadn't known each other long, but Kyle's memories were fully intact.
Embarrassing as it was, she felt like family......
Edelin......! Sorry for doubting you.
It said advance royalties, but whatever. The debt was paid off.
"Hey, Jackson. Don't just stand there like an idiot—take the money and go. You know my temper. Principal, interest, and a little extra for your trouble coming here in person."
"......Cocky, aren't you."
"Skip the trouble fee."
"Just saying you look good, sir."
He glanced back and forth between my face and the magic device's screen, then finally clicked his tongue in annoyance. Seduce him, seduce him. If we'd just settled for the broken door, that would've covered months of interest.
......Did I go too far?
I meant it figuratively. Figuratively.
"How much was the debt again?"
"57 million gold."
"Feed those goons some gukbap on the way out. Take 57 million plus 30,000 more."
"With interest, it's 300 million."
"......? 300 million? Did I hear that wrong? 300 million? Not 30 million gold, but 300 million gold?"
His eyes bulged wide. Wasn't it just tens of millions? That's what I thought.
"Your great-grandparents borrowed 3 million, which ballooned to 30 million by your grandparents' time. Then you borrowed another 50 million. Your uncle and aunt 40 million...... partially repaid some and offset with tax rights, and your father added tens of millions more. At 30% interest, it's 300 million."
"......Fuck."
"Your mom must miss you too."
Jackson tsked his tongue and fiddled with the magic device. From a business standpoint, this was the worst outcome. He'd lost the valuable asset named Ellie and the chance to grind Kyle for life.
"......Lucky bastard."
"Debt's 300 million...... principal included, 357 million......"
"430 million gold. Paid in full."
Exactly 430 million gold vanished from the account. Jackson pulled a yellowed contract from his pocket, tore it viciously, and tossed the shreds on the floor.
"This ends the bad blood with the Crowley barony. Need money? Come find us anytime."
"Hold up. You said 300 million just now."
"We bought out the other collectors' claims too."
Father, what the hell did you do.
Jackson left without looking back, thugs in tow. The front door slammed shut, heavy footsteps faded, and silence blanketed the living room.
We had 450 million just now, and now only 20 million left?
The sense of loss was immense. The rose-tinted romance had turned dark fantasy in an instant.
Is this okay? Does this fit the genre rules?
At least it's all paid off......
Yeah. We only got 20 million to begin with. Not advance royalties—real royalties. My book earned 20 million gold, end of story!
Earn 470 million? No way. Just 20 million. Kyle Crowley. Bad end averted!
I was grinning through tears when—
Rustle—
Ellie clutched my clothes from behind.
"Ellie?"
"......Young master."
Ellie slumped to the floor as if her strength had given out. Her gaze lingered on the contract shreds Jackson had discarded and Kyle's relaxed back.
Fumble, fumble......
Ellie frantically patted Kyle all over.
"Whoa...... I'm not ready yet? We're not that close!"
"Sob, it's not a dream...... not a dream."
Ellie was terrified.
More than when she'd stared down Jackson preparing to be sold to a brothel. What if this was all a dream? It felt too unreal, like it could shatter any second.
Fumble, fumble......
Not a dream. The warmth was real, everything sharp and clear. Kyle's face—now reliably sturdy.
Kyle knelt on one knee in front of her and gently took her trembling hand.
Not like this......
"Ellie. I told you I'd treat you right."
"......Was it real? That one crazy manuscript really solved everything?"
"Yeah. No more eating sprouted potatoes, right?"
Ellie's eyes shook. She let out a small laugh.
"I'm so glad, young master."
Silence fell for a moment. Was it the romance-fantasy backdrop? Every character was stunningly pretty. No wonder that scum Jackson had his eye on her.
He'd valued her at least hundreds of millions in gold.
"I don't know when you grew so reliable. I thought you'd be a listless shut-in loser forever...... I was wrong."
"Ouch, that stings......"
She recalled the pages he'd scribbled through the night, covered in charcoal smudges. The stacks others would've mocked as mad ravings.
"I thought you'd gone gambling, but it wasn't that."
"Result of thorough market research."
I playfully flicked her forehead and grinned. Ellie dusted off her apron, straightened her frayed frills, and headed to the kitchen, eyes still red-rimmed.
"Ellie......"
"Young master."
"A woman's place is the kitchen."
"......Does that mean you'd like to make dinner yourself tonight?"
"Others might think that, but I don't. Wanna eat out today?"
"Sounds good."
The same time, at Edelin Publishing House's head office in the imperial capital.
Chief Editor Edwin handed the report to Duke Berg with trembling hands. The duke was a titan in the empire's literary world, once an imperial knight who'd guarded the emperor.
"The whereabouts of the author 'Yangpanso' remain unknown. Bank security prevented identity confirmation."
"So you sent that massive sum?"
The Edelin Publishing president bowed in the duke's place.
"Yes. 450 million gold isn't mere payment—it's bait. No author could ignore that. They'll withdraw it or show up at the bank to check."
The duke slowly read through the manuscript of The Reincarnated Holy Knight Decided to Pretend to be Crazy on the desk.
His eyes sharpened.
"Edwin, what do you make of this writing?"
"......At first, I thought it crude. The prose broken, rhetoric vulgar. But closing the final page sent chills down my spine."
"Why?"
"Everything was deliberate design. Short paragraphs for impact. Subdued emotions building to an explosive climax."
The duke chuckled lowly. His callused hand flipped pages for a long while, lingering on one paragraph. "Identity still a mystery, then."
"Apologies, but yes."
The duke's finger paused over a line.
Don Quixote swung his lance at a demon disguised as a windmill. No masterful swordsmanship. Just a simple horizontal slash honed by holy power.
"......This description."
"That impressive......?"
President Filt Edelin and Edwin exchanged puzzled glances. Both had devoted their lives to literature—knights and wizards were beyond them.
"This author knows how to fight demons."
The duke's voice dropped.
"Demons grow stronger through battle. They adapt to foes, endlessly powering up from that adaptation...... learning as they fight."
"Shocking. But how does that relate to the description......?"
"It gives them nothing to learn from. Just a wild swing—what's there to adapt to? Yangpanso might be a knight. The take on chivalry fits too."
Slam!
The duke shut the book with a bang.
"Either way, same conclusion. Find them fast."
For the empire.
At that moment, a knights' diner in the capital.
"Hey, you read it too? The Reincarnated Holy Knight Decided to Pretend to be Crazy."
A young knight pulled a crumpled novel from his pocket. It was the hot topic among knight trainees lately. Fellow knights crowded around with curious eyes.
"Old geezer gone mad over chivalry? Title's off-putting."
"No, just read it. This line...... 'Rude? It's chivalry.' Got my heart racing. Don Quixote's take on chivalry is...... weirdly compelling."
"How so?"
A strange energy buzzed among the knights passing the book around.
"Yangpanso says a knight's virtue isn't obedience—it's sacrifice. Straight-up denies what we learned: serve and devote to our lord."
"Don't agree. Don Quixote's sacrifice revolves around Dulcinea...... y'know, his lord figure?"
"Intriguing point, Himel."
"But can't outright dismiss it. Even without Dulcinea, Don Quixote would've sacrificed."
Himel plopped a pot on his head, struck a goofy pose, and yelled.
"'Cause hero Don Quixote would've!"
"Hero? You throwing around a divine title like that?"
"Why not? Dulcinea's a goddess too."
"Makes sense."
Laughter erupted. In the corner, a lone diner noted the book's title.
The Reincarnated Holy Knight Decided to Pretend to be Crazy......
Maybe—
A book that could show him a new path.
He stood. His worn sword hilt creaked softly.
The next morning.
The imperial publishing house's newspaper splashed this headline on the front page.
Ellie brought the morning paper delivery to the kitchen.
"Young master. You should read the paper."
"We subscribe now?"
"Didn't you say now that the debt's paid, time for some culture?"
I lounged in the creaky rocking chair, two slats short, soaking in the warm sun. Ellie kept prodding.
"Front page."
"Yeah. Set it down and sit. Sun's nice...... What?!"
"It's on the front page. An article about you."
"......?"
"Says author Yangpanso is corrupting young knights."
"Ellie."
"Yes."
"Use that paper to light the fire first."
"Understood."
Ellie folded the newspaper twice and set it by the hearth.
Tap, tap—
Something felt off. I'd check it out later when we went out with Ellie.