The Debt Transferred
The pimp screamed without any awareness of what he should be sorry for or why he needed to apologize at all. His insincere pleas for forgiveness lacked as much backbone as his broken fingers.
The onlookers watched in horror. Their own fingers seemed to throb in sympathy.
Two hundred and fifty. That was quite the profitable deal, wasn't it?
Urgh… ugh…
The man was crying over a few broken fingers. Did those hands only find courage when striking women?
Nyx sneered and released the pimp's hand as if discarding it. What a waste of a face and a body, he thought, clicking his tongue.
Once every finger on the right hand was broken, the left hand had to take its turn enduring the pain. That meant five more opportunities to vent his anger.
When Nyx was folding the pimp's left pinky in half like a reed, Desidero finally stepped in.
"Your Grace, I believe that is sufficient. We still need to rewrite the contract, so you ought to leave him at least one hand."
The young man's voice was polite, but his expression was one of disapproval, as though scolding a mischievous child tearing the wings off an insect. It sounded less like a plea and more like a reprimand.
At Desidero's words, Nyx dropped the pimp's left hand like a bored child and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling.
"Clean this up."
The man spoke irritably.
The pimp rolled across the ground, smearing dirt on his backside just as Tichite had, but at least his left hand was spared.
Desidero remained the only person who could calm or restrain the Duke of Farrow. He sighed deeply and gestured to one of the darker-skinned knights.
"Yarmouk, come here for a moment."
The young man drew the knight close and exchanged a few hushed words only they could understand. Yarmouk nodded, then hauled the pimp to his feet and led him away.
Would the man truly receive the compensation he had been promised? The atmosphere suggested it would not be strange if he were simply drowned in the waters off Saltcoast, though for now it seemed they were heading toward the wagons.
When the commotion finally died down, a small, insignificant woman sat in the middle of it all like a dot left by a brush. Tichite's heart was pounding. She remained frozen, dazed by everything that had just unfolded.
It all felt like a dream. From being sold by the brother she had grown up with, to being rescued by a man whose face she had never seen.
She looked up at the world in confusion, unable to believe the reality before her. Standing there, his back to the sun, was a tall man. Though many eyes were fixed on her with curiosity, Tichite could see only him.
When their gazes met and held, the duke flinched and quickly looked away.
"Uh, that is… well… Now what do we do, Dero?"
The man had turned his head sharply to avoid looking at Tichite, and that very action made it perfectly clear who the incomplete question was about.
Desidero stared at him in disbelief.
"What do you mean, what do we do? You bought her, Your Grace. That Tilamin woman. And for a rather hefty sum of two hundred and fifty hennies, no less."
"S-so… we take her with us, then?"
"If you are not taking her, what exactly were you planning to do?"
The younger brother spoke as though scolding his elder. Eventually, he even pointed a finger at Tichite.
"Since things have come to this, you must cure the duke's illness. Otherwise, there would have been no point in paying two hundred for a frail Tilamin woman."
The young man's tone toward her was far less respectful than before. In his eyes, Tichite Ranlam was no longer a physician deserving of respect, but a servant—or perhaps a slave—he could now command because money had been paid.
"…Take her with us?"
"Of course we are taking her!"
Desidero snapped, as if the answer were obvious. The duke shuffled awkwardly, looking as though he would have scratched his head if he were not wearing a helmet.
"Well, um… Then have her… have her pack her things. To go home… no, wait… is that dangerous?"
The man who had so boldly broken fingers moments ago now looked utterly foolish the moment the conversation turned to Tichite. He avoided looking at her directly and instead scraped at the dirt with his foot like a horse trapped in a stable.
"Going home alone… is it all right to send a woman home by herself…?"
What he wanted to say was unclear, and his words came out muddled.
"Ask her if she wants to go home and pack. We have to leave right away… This is the only chance to gather her things, so… so tell her to hurry."
The man once again resorted to speaking about her in the third person, even though she stood right there. At that moment, Tichite felt all her strength drain away. The strange, awkward side of him she had momentarily forgotten came rushing back, shattering the illusion. The man in armor was indeed that peculiar person after all.
Tichite could have answered, but Kanne stepped forward with a cheerful laugh.
"I will accompany her. It would be troublesome if she ran into that so-called brother of hers again."
He had quickly understood what the duke was worried about and acted accordingly. Protecting women was something he was rather good at.
***
Desidero was curious about what had made Nyx change his mind and decide to take Tichite in. As he climbed into the carriage, he asked his brother about his intentions.
"She came to me asking for help."
The man replied indifferently. It was an unexpectedly reasonable and moral answer.
"Since when have you been the type to…"
The younger brother had been about to mock him for helping a woman without a second thought, but before he could finish, he found himself wondering. Had there ever been such a person in Nyx Farrow's life? Had he ever held a woman's fate in his hands and made a decision like this…?
"That filthy pimp was about to disgrace an innocent girl. She nearly lost something precious."
Once he had seen her face and understood her situation, how could he have looked away? The older brother spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Faced with such a commonsense, moral answer, the younger brother was left speechless.
As a devout follower of the Sunset Religion, the Duke of Farrow was a firm believer in premarital chastity and placed great value on purity and fidelity.
But refusing to sell oneself does not necessarily mean one is pure.
Desidero did not know what basis his brother had for assuming Tichite was a virgin, but since the truth of that guess mattered little, he saw no need to voice the thought.
Desidero folded the contract bearing the pimp's crooked signature in half again and again as he spoke.
"I will keep the contract."
"Do as you like."
"For your information, I did not even give that man two hundred hennies. Two hundred karso would have been too much."
"…What? Why not?"
Nyx asked, startled in an unpleasant way. It was not that Nyx Farrow had any desire to hand over that much money to the pimp, but he was confused, wondering if Desidero had simply nullified the deal on his own.
"Imagine the rumors that would spread if people heard the Duke of Farrow paid a fortune for a Tilamin woman. How would you handle such an absurd story? I had Yarmouk take care of it."
"Take care of it? Did he rip the man's tongue out?"
"They say the western coast of Saltcoast is quite deep. The sea there is very dark and thick."
So he had been drowned.
The duke frowned, as if to ask why he was only hearing this now, but Desidero could not read his expression. All he saw was a motionless mass of metal.
What was done was done. The duke let out a reluctant sigh, as though yielding.
"Then the contract is useless now. Give it here."
"Useless?"
"The person she owed the debt to is gone."
So naturally, she should be free, Nyx said.
A contract that had lost its subject and purpose was nothing more than a scrap of paper. Nyx reached out, intending to tear it to pieces.
But Desidero showed no intention of handing it over. He hid it behind his back, as if to keep it from being taken, and countered.
"She owes that debt to us now. She has to repay us. After all, we are the ones who solved her problem."