Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Master is a Fool
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Who knew killing someone could make me chuckle so contentedly?
As a doctor, I never would have made a face like this.
But I'm not a doctor anymore.
And the fact that I'd just taken out a piece of trash named Karen with my own hands? Honestly, it felt better than I could've imagined.
I could picture her—the bitch who'd treated me like a pushover my whole life—frantically begging for her life, yelling, "Young Master! We've got history, even if it's bad blood!" as she scrambled away.
And the catharsis when an arrow slotted perfectly into that gaping mouth of hers as she fled...
"Can't put it into words."
It was like days of constipation suddenly giving way to the most satisfying bowel movement imaginable.
Having personally eliminated the plot device that spewed frustration throughout the early and mid-arcs of the original story left me with a sense of accomplishment that made my steps lighter than anyone's.
'Archery as a hobby from my past life really shines in moments like this~.'
A snicker slipped out.
The annex massacre was wrapped up, and now only one thing remained.
The Proxy Blood Fate, one month from now.
And the slave who would fight as my proxy in that duel: Piel.
The protagonist of the original Vengeful Goddesses, the girl harboring the "Hero's Power" deep within her.
I planned to awaken that power far sooner than in the original.
Conveniently, this was the preparation period for the Proxy Blood Fate, when no one could lay a hand on me.
There wouldn't be a better timing.
So, without a hint of hesitation, I stepped out of the mansion.
The official reason: "training."
The real intent: the first step in squeezing out Piel's dormant power faster than grinding through the original story.
Apparently, the moment word got out that I was leaving the mansion, that little brat ran straight to the family head again, screaming her head off.
But I'd anticipated that from Agram, and I'd already laid down insurance.
A "sweet bait" tailored perfectly to his tastes, the kind he'd love.
"I plan to leave the mansion for a month to conduct training."
"For that slave named Piel?"
"Yes."
"Any chance you're using this as an excuse to run away...?"
As expected, even while lifting surveillance, he always had to poke once.
Drawing the line: 'You're still in the palm of my hand.'
But I just smirked right back.
"If you were me, with that worm who strutted around relying on her family backing now flat on her back... wouldn't you want to rip that smiling mouth apart first, rather than run?"
"Fair point."
One word was enough.
Agram instantly grasped that I had zero intention of fleeing.
Or rather than understanding, it seemed like my tone and expression sparked his interest anew.
With the family head—who'd lifted surveillance at my own request—behind me, Piel and I slipped out of the mansion.
Our destination was, naturally, my one and only "sponsor."
"Haa... At this point, I don't even know who's really leading this organization."
"Haha. Obviously, it's our supreme Leader of the Ashen Hand, the empire's one and only Princess Evelyn."
"You show up begging every time... and smile so shamelessly about it."
The teahouse run by the Ashen Hand.
The moment I appeared—me, who'd racked up tabs every visit disguised as a member—Princess Evelyn, disguised as staff today, let out a deep sigh.
But hey, I'd pay back what I borrowed.
I'm not the type to live in anyone's debt.
So today, grinning it off again, I handled the first thing before proper training.
The one training wasn't me—it was Piel.
Even back in my doctor days, that was the case.
Before major surgery, the top priority wasn't the doctor, but the "patient."
When the patient's condition improved, impossible miracles happened all the time—I'd seen it countless times in the OR.
"Your Highness! Cocoa, coffee, and cookies, please!"
"I figured you'd head straight to the basement training room?"
"Today, it's a 'date' with Piel on the side."
"...A date?"
Piel, who would fight for me, had to endure hellish training for the next month.
If that didn't stir guilt, you weren't human.
So, like the attending physician soothing a patient before surgery, I decided to lift Piel's spirits before training.
The first time she tried cocoa here, Piel's eyes sparkled like the world had changed.
Sweet cocoa and fresh-baked cookies.
In a medieval world, sugar was a luxury, and for a slave like Piel, this taste was practically a miracle.
So naturally, I expected handing her cocoa again would bring back that beaming smile.
But...
...
Slurp—
"...Piel?"
Something was off.
Those small lips sipping the sweet cocoa.
She had to love it like before... but Piel's expression was subtly, faintly shaken.
Like the sweetness no longer registered purely as sweet—a hard-to-describe "change" lingered somewhere in her eyes.
"What's wrong? Is it not tasty?"
"...No. It's delicious."
"Then why the face...?"
"......Just."
Just.
That single word tugged strangely at my heart.
Time with Piel had been just over a month, but in that short span, she'd always been bright and sunny.
A little orange fox who yipped and wagged her tail whenever I stroked her head.
But now.
Her eyes were vacant, her face blank, her tone... even cold.
'Puberty?'
The thought flashed, then reality hit.
What I'd done just before.
Whispering I'd spare her, then shattering Karen's limbs arrow by arrow, finishing with a grin as I lodged one in her throat.
Piel had seen it all.
Of course, Karen deserved death.
Knowing the original story, I knew the horrific things she'd do to Piel ten years later.
But in this kid's eyes... how did it look?
'Damn... Should've ended it clean with one shot. Or left her for the soldiers!'
Even in my past life, my personality got me labeled "talented but dangerously unhinged," scaring off coworkers.
Was Piel thinking the same now?
Anxiety gnawed at the back of my neck.
But then.
Clink.
Piel's mug trembled slightly, and right after—
"Hic... sob!"
"?!?!?!?"
Tears streamed from those orange eyes onto the teahouse table.
That quiet sobbing hit harder than any scream.
"P-Piel... why are you crying all of a sudden?"
"B-Because... it's your fault, Master...!"
"Urk! Is it because of... that maid Karen earlier—I mean, no, the one I killed too cruelly? If so, s-sorry! I won't do bad stuff like that anymore!"
Please believe me, please!
Karen was the psycho who'd carve her foot, stick needles in her gut, and try to kill Piel in the original.
But Piel at this point didn't know that.
So I had to desperately protect this kid's "innocent little fox heart."
I yanked out a handkerchief, hands nearly shaking, and dabbed her eyes.
A cruel master image was absolutely forbidden.
But—
Piel's response shattered my expectations to pieces.
"Hic... What are you talking about, Master?"
"Huh?"
"You did right killing that Karen woman earlier."
"...Wait. What?"
"If you didn't kill her in one shot... I would've torn the body apart so no one could identify it."
"......"
I was speechless.
This little fox I'd thought innocent spat out something horrific so calmly.
And the real reason for her tears wasn't pity for Karen or my cruelty.
The "answer" lay elsewhere.
"Then... why were you crying?"
"B-Because..."
Piel gripped her mug tight, shoulders quivering faintly.
"This whole mess... it's all because of me!"
"What?"
"If I'd just listened to Miss Syl back then... or never gotten close... or just run faster...!"
Orange tears rolled down.
"You wouldn't have gotten dragged into this...!"
"So you're saying this whole thing is your fault, Piel?"
"Yes!! It's all... all my fault...!"
The reason Piel was crying.
It was pure guilt for 'dragging me into this and feeling sorry.'
Not simple tears.
She genuinely believed she put me in danger.
And that guilt was making this little fox wail like the world had ended.
"Waaah... Master dummy... why protect someone worthless like me... I'm just... just a slave!"
I grabbed the handkerchief again.
"Piel. You're not just some simple slave."
"Sob...? Th-Then... what am I to you, Master?"
Wipe the tears, snot flows; wipe the snot, tears stream.
I felt like a nanny soothing a weepy baby.
But those words were necessary to cut off her repeated self-deprecation: "I'm just a slave."
And she asks.
'What am I?'
'...What else? A hero.'
The hero who'd slice through this world's darkness in ten years and rebuild the shattered continent.
But right now, she's just a teary fox kit hiccuping, biting her lower lip raw.
Telling her "You're the hero, save the world" out of nowhere? She'd crumble under the pressure.
In the original, Piel suppressed it her whole life.
So instead of her future, I answered for the kid in front of me now.
I placed my hand on her head, on those small fox ears.
Warm.
"Piel. To me, you're the 'most precious person.'"
"...!"
"An irreplaceable... 'family' member."
You don't exist, the world ends. For real.
The moment I said it, Piel's sobs stopped dead.
And then.
Thump—
Thump-thump-thump!
Her small body trembled under my palm.
"M-Master... my body's acting weird..."
"Huh? Where?"
Blushing, Piel averted her gaze and whispered.
"M-My lower belly... it feels all fluttery..."
"Lower belly?"
Indigestion?
Sudden mood shift after crying could make a kid's tummy twitch.
Figuring it was that simple, I brushed it off.
Piel's face stayed red, eyes dodging mine.
But after a few deep breaths, she slowly returned to her usual expression.
I stroked her little head and said.
"Don't worry. You're doing great, Piel."
She just nodded, but her ear tips quivered visibly.