Chapter 125: In the Days When Foxes Smoked
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 125: In the Days When Foxes Smoked
“Caleb… I thought you were dead.”
The Fox Spirit’s shoulders trembled. Her eight tails swayed gently in the breeze.
“Because that’s what Bipa and Mugol told me.”
Hyedam’s voice was choked with emotion, her words slightly slurred.
Instead, she rested her forehead against my chest and shot Bipa and Mugol a sharp glare.
“That’s because we really thought he was dead.”
Mugol protested, his tone aggrieved.
Come to think of it, when I first met Bipa and Mugol, the first thing they said to me was, “Caleb? You’re alive!”
“It couldn’t be helped.”
Bipa added, dropping a bombshell.
“Who would’ve imagined you’d survive an encounter with the Labyrinth Master?”
Wait, what?
Met who? The Labyrinth Master?
Seriously, every time I talk to these guys, they say something that makes my head spin.
“Right. We barely escaped ourselves.”
Does that mean that back in my scrub days in Wyndham, I met the Labyrinth Master with these guys?
But wait. I became a slave because I was accused of murdering Hyedam, right?
So where does the Labyrinth Master fit into all this?
Hold on.
‘The possessor village, the Inter-floor Lord, the living sacrifices, and the Labyrinth Master.’
It felt like there might be a connection between them.
Dalstream said the White Lion was a king who ruled some ancient kingdom long ago.
He offered his kingdom’s land, treasures, and even its people to the Labyrinth, and in return, he received the power of a god the Labyrinth had devoured.
And that kingdom, which became a sacrifice, is now an inter-floor village. In the White Lion’s case, the 9.5th Floor.
But Bipa and Mugol are stockpiling possessors in their village, aren’t they?
They called them living sacrifices, didn’t they?
And they’ve met the Labyrinth Master? What did they do when they met?
‘Something like, “We’ll offer you the sacrifices we’ve gathered on the 3.5th floor, so give us the power of a god”…?’
A sudden chill ran down my spine.
Are these guys trying to become Inter-floor Lords?
I might have been in the middle of an absurdly insane plan without even knowing it.
And now, I’ve walked right back into the heart of it.
“From what I heard later, after escaping from the Labyrinth Master, he took your fox bead, went to the court, and confessed to killing you,” Bipa said.
“Ah.”
Hyedam nodded.
“I see. The bead came back to me.”
She opened her mouth slightly. Her red tongue moved, and with a soft clink, like rolling a piece of candy, she revealed a gleaming white fox bead.
“That’s just how they work.”
Hyedam coquettishly swept her hair back.
“…”
“…”
“…”
An awkward silence fell for a moment.
“By the way, Hyedam, are you wearing makeup?” Bipa asked, narrowing her eyes.
Hyedam looked embarrassed.
“O-of course. It’s been a long time…”
She grabbed my hand.
“You two can go home now. Get lost, all the way back to Wyndham,” she said, waving her hand dismissively at Bipa and Mugol.
*
I had prepared several contingency plans based on how much hostility Hyedam might show me.
If I sensed significant hostility right away, I would use it immediately.
If I felt my cover was about to be blown or the mood turned sour during our conversation, I would use it.
What is it?
‘The Stair Scroll.’
During the war with the White Lion, I had told Back Attack to bring two Stair Scrolls.
The plan was to use Yernil’s magic implement to get Dalstream and me out of there if things went south.
But Back Attack only brought one.
When I asked him why later, the reason was absurd.
‘I packed two, but I was worried I’d lose them in battle, so I put one in my pocket and tucked the other into my belt.’
He took the scroll out of his pocket.
‘But after that lion bastard broke my arm and Yernil collapsed, I wasn’t in my right mind.’
As expected of Back Attack. He was an excellent adventurer, but having never experienced the Abyss, he still had a slightly clumsy side to him.
He’d forgotten about one scroll because he was caught up in a magic show between an Inter-floor monster he’d never seen before and an Archmage, with his party members’ lives on the line.
That scroll is now in my pocket.
If things get dicey, I can tear it and bolt to the stairs in front of the monolith.
Of course, she’d follow. And after that…
“But Caleb, why are you so quiet?”
Inside the small house, Hyedam sat across from me at the table, smiling brightly and staring intently into my eyes.
“Did you not miss me?”
“…”
Time to play it cool.
“It’s been so long, it doesn’t feel real.”
And honestly, her appearance didn’t feel real either. I knew from the game’s lore that Fox Spirits were famous for their stunning beauty, so I thought I was prepared, but seeing her in person… I finally understood what it meant to have your soul stolen away.
“Oh, right. Wait here a second.”
The old, abandoned house in the inter-floor village looked quite livable now that it was repaired.
The oven even worked.
Hyedam took out a loaf of bread she had baked with foxfire.
She then transferred some pasta that seemed to have been prepared in advance from a pan to a plate.
“The ingredients I have here aren’t the best…”
She said, embarrassed, as she set the food on the table.
“But you always liked my pasta, right?”
“It’s delicious.”
As I took a bite with my fork, a movie I once saw came to mind.
Catch Me If You Can.
A film based on the memoirs of a legendary con artist named Frank William Abagnale Jr.
That con man transferred to a new school and pretended to be a French teacher, teaching classes for a week.
Later, he bought a pilot’s uniform, posed as a co-pilot, and even flew planes.
After fleeing to another region to escape the FBI, he forged a medical degree, got a job as a doctor at a hospital, and even treated patients.
It seems a person with a brilliant mind, eloquence, and acting skills can pull off such audacious scams.
Of course, I can’t do that.
My opponent isn’t some new work colleague, but an old lover who knows the real me very well.
“Caleb… How have you been all this time?”
The more we talked, the stranger I’d seem to her.
Still, I had something that could bridge that gap.
“I became a slave for the magic university and was thrown into the Labyrinth.”
The fact that I supposedly killed Hyedam, became a slave because of it, and have since overcome all sorts of near-death experiences.
That’s enough to change anyone’s personality.
“…So it ended up being just me and an elf named Yernil. And then…”
The stories I told were all from after my possession.
The story of Yernil nearly dying after stepping on a trap.
The story of fighting the bald slave team.
The story of meeting Birtanen’s party and catching the Venomic Spider.
The story of fighting the exit boss, Back Attack.
The story of finding the 1.5th Floor.
The story of Paladin Bernard’s party showing up and dragging in the ossuary’s caretaker.
The story of barely escaping, only to go back in for a dying Aimus.
The Hijikata party I met on the 3rd floor.
Antonelli and the monster wave.
The story of deciphering the monolith’s code to activate a Tier 10 magic.
The story of meeting Lilweed and fighting Ingelam.
The ironworks where the Golden Golem and the blacksmith appeared at the same time.
I recounted all of it, slightly embellished, leaving out only the part about the Hourglass.
“…Not long ago, I even died fighting when the Sohen Labyrinth erupted. It was a good thing I had Soul Preservation cast on me.”
I decided not to mention anything about the past that we would both know in detail.
If the past was to be brought up, it should be by Hyedam.
“If Yernil had found my body even a little later, I…”
I am a man who has become somewhat cynical after experiencing the hellish labyrinth and the inferno of Sohen.
I maintained that persona.
If I seemed a little different, it was the Labyrinth’s fault…
“Huh?”
An unexpected situation arose, one that even I, the one who started this, hadn’t anticipated.
‘Tears are falling.’
Suddenly, tears welled up and began to stream down my face uncontrollably.
So much so that it was useless to try and wipe them away or calm myself down.
“Why is this…”
The tears came before I even registered the surging emotions. I only understood why afterward.
It was because I was forced to ruminate on the fiery hell I had walked through since falling into this insane game.
All the things I had forgotten in my desperate struggle to survive.
The chance to lament my fate to someone, the chance to receive sympathy, the chance to be comforted.
I had been deprived of such things.
But people need that.
Beyond practical solutions, you need someone to talk to about the mental hardships you’re facing, someone to empathize with you.
Sitting in front of this Fox Spirit woman I’d never met, laying out my story like a sinner confessing to a priest, my emotions overflowed.
Surprisingly, I was being sincere.
Even though it wasn’t 100% true, since I’d conveniently left out the Hourglass.
And even though the story had begun with the ulterior motive of preventing her from sensing anything strange about me.
And the Stair Scroll clutched tightly in my hand.
The scroll I held in my pocket, ready to tear at a moment’s notice to escape before things got dangerous, after hearing just enough of her story.
Despite all that, this woman’s eyes, like ethereal lakes, watched me with genuine concern, naively falling for my charade.
“Caleb…”
And when tears finally welled up in those eyes, I felt the foundations of my psyche crumble.
Suddenly, all the hellish struggles I’d endured over the years felt like they were pouring down on me at once, like a torrential downpour from a cumulonimbus cloud.
“I’m sorry…”
Hyedam squeezed my hand tightly.
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you…”
A wave of guilt washed over me.
I’m sorry. I’m not actually Caleb.
But the modern man I had forcibly killed and buried within myself all this time had longed to hear those words.
“You must have had such a hard time, all alone…?”
I never thought I’d actually find comfort here.
I tried to calm down, wiping away my tears.
“Caleb. Do you remember when we first met?”
Hyedam started telling an old story, trying to change the mood.
“Show me. I want to see.”
I had been aiming for this, too.
An Eight-Tailed Fox Spirit would surely have magic like that.
“Come here.”
Hyedam pulled me into an embrace. And then, she planted a kiss on me.
She didn’t really have to do it like this.
I could smell the sharp, sweet scent of tobacco and cosmetics.
Clink.
The fox bead rolled into my mouth.
‘Memory Transfer.’
It was one of the Tier 7 secret arts of the Fox Spirit Shamans.
*
Soyul, a Fox Spirit living in Sohen, was once nearly hunted by plunderers. This is because the tails and fox beads of the Fox Spirits are treated as luxury items among the rich and sold for high prices.
Can you imagine, then, what it’s like for a village where Fox Spirits live together?
In the great mountain range north of Wyndham, there is a small village where Fox Spirits live clustered together.
‘Fox Ridge.’
Naturally, this place has been invaded by countless plunderers, but it still stands strong.
This is because the most powerful individual of their generation among all Fox Spirits holds the title of Guardian and protects the village.
“Is this the last one?”
This generation’s Guardian is the strongest in history.
A shaman with a staggering eight tails.
Hyedam had killed all 26 intruders.
All but one.
“You are…”
She blinked her beautiful blue eyes, which were like ethereal lakes.
“You don’t look like a plunderer. What are you?”
The man was too frail to be a plunderer.
A gaunt body, poor equipment, a resigned expression, and an exhausted appearance.
Pathetic combat ability.
This kind of human was usually a passerby, captured and kidnapped by a group of plunderers on their way to attack Fox Ridge.
A captive to be sold for a decent ransom somewhere in the west.
Judging by his pretty face, he would probably be sold as a male prostitute.
“What’s your name?”
“…Caleb.”
That was how the two first met.
Hyedam did not kill him.
Nor did she let him go.
“Take this one to the village.”
She merely tossed him before her subordinates.
“What will you use him for?”
“My tobacco pipe is too long.”
Hyedam received a long tobacco pipe, about a meter in length, from her adjutant.
“I’ll have him light it for me.”
In Fox Ridge, the length of one’s tobacco pipe is a symbol of status.
The longer it is, the harder it is to light by oneself, thus requiring a servant.
“You. From today, you will work at my mansion.”
Hyedam took the man to her home.