Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Rehabilitation Program (3)
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Three days had passed since the meeting with the King of Bacar.
Lady Eri had left with a beaming smile, claiming I owed her one.
Her beautiful hair fluttering like the azalea blossoms around the prison.
"……."
Anje had cooperated fully with her parole hearing, so she was set to be released in a few months.
Myoran and the Grand Elder too.
My goal was to get them all out before the year was up.
No matter how well they'd adapted to prison life, keeping people locked up like this wasn't good for their mental health.
And if these reformed individuals returned to bolster the Empire's defenses...
The continent would be even more stable than in my previous regressions.
Stable enough that they wouldn't even need me around.
"Warden, why the long face?"
The vice warden approached me as I hunched over like some decrepit old man, clutching a thick stack of backlog paperwork.
"What's so wrong with my face?"
"You look like an ancient serpent."
Spot on.
My body might be that of a fresh 21-year-old, but the soul inside had lived nearly a century.
"Just a bit tired, that's all."
"Tired or not, you've got work to do."
Clea placed the papers on my desk like a nagging wife.
Today's schedule for the rehabilitation program.
"The escorts are coming today, right?"
"Yes. I'll brew some coffee—start by clearing that Dark Circle first."
I rested my chin on my hand and tilted my head.
"Is it a rough crowd today?"
Clea paused for a moment before playing dumb.
"Yes. More vicious than usual."
"Vicious...? That's harsh."
"You know I can't lie."
"Well, isn't that a good thing? It'll definitely straighten out the participants' attitudes."
I shrugged as I flipped through today's schedule.
But Clea, who'd grown oddly quiet lately, said nothing in response.
She should've shot back with her usual sullen glare by now, something about how I never listened.
"……."
She just silently poured the drip coffee.
As the rich aroma filled the office...
Finally, she brushed her bangs aside and muttered as if to herself.
"So, are you really going through with that political marriage?"
"Who knows. Honestly, it's a tempting offer."
Her hand froze.
If I let it sit too long, too much drip would make it bitter.
"Better to become a foreign king than be treated like a thorn in the Empire's side forever, right?"
"I see."
"I'm kidding—king? That was just a white lie to get out of the situation with Lady Eri."
"A lie to a foreign king?"
She worried about that before feeling sad about me leaving the Empire.
Sure, she grumbled on the surface, but it was comforting in its own way.
"Had to. Who knows what that king—who infiltrated an enemy nation—might do if I flatly refused."
I recalled his face from three days ago.
Those eerie golden eyes gleaming through his black hair.
"Bakar the Tenth... he's on the verge of Grand Master level. If I'd refused, he might've silenced me on the spot."
"But now Eri will keep pressing you about when the wedding is."
Clea's stoic gaze softened with pity.
"Just say the Imperial court keeps delaying it due to their checks and balances."
"Using the clash between two great powers, then."
"Exactly. And honestly, at my age, what marriage..."
I realized my slip-up.
I was a bright 21-year-old now.
"No, how could a wretch like me marry a fine lady like that? I'm not a playboy like my brothers."
"I see."
Her curt reply came, but her voice was subtly brighter than before.
Judging my joking tone had landed well, I added another line.
"Don't worry. I won't suddenly say we're off to found a kingdom together."
"Were you planning to drag me along automatically?"
As Clea smirked and asked, I flashed the sly grin unique to the Minster family.
"Of course. If we found a kingdom, you'd have to be my chief administrator."
"True. You can't do anything on your own without me."
Only then did Clea pick up the fully brewed coffee.
"Don't think of ditching me—we'd fall apart without you."
"It'll cost a pretty penny to keep me around."
"That's why I'm working so hard to make money."
"Money alone won't cut it."
Clea approached leisurely with the coffee in hand.
I tilted my head and asked back.
"Oh? So what else do you want?"
"I'll claim that directly later."
How cute—demanding it directly.
Probably just something about looking after her little brother again.
As I reviewed the rehabilitation schedule, Clea suddenly reclaimed the coffee she'd meant to give me.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a small vial she'd kept hidden.
Then dropped one of the tiny sugar cubes inside into the hot coffee.
"Today's coffee is sweeter than usual?"
"Must be your imagination."
Clea resumed her paperwork indifferently.
I snapped to attention, stood, and prepared to greet the new inmates.
"Alright, time for me to get moving."
Among today's arrivals were some particularly unruly knights.
I didn't know who they were, but as northerners, they fell under the Princess's jurisdiction.
Since they were subordinates of my ally big sis, I needed to drill some discipline into them properly.
"Assign 'Martial Arts' as the first event today."
"To crush the unruly knights' spirits right away?"
Sharp as ever, my vice warden.
She got it even when I cut straight to the chase.
"Yeah. Been a while since I loosened up myself."
Clea watched quietly as her boss stretched his stiff back.
Suddenly, she thought he moved with the flexibility of a snake.
"This time, take off your dress shirt first. Hate ironing wrinkles."
The inmate carriage.
Amid the burly Bacar escorts crammed inside, one petite woman stood out.
Even in a simple ponytail and lowly soldier's uniform, she was impossible to miss.
Like a lone amethyst sparkling amid gravel.
"……."
Still, no one recognized her.
The unruly knights skipped official events, so they'd never seen her face up close.
Who'd suspect their unknown commander was joining their rehabilitation program?
"Damn it, why do I have to go to some backwater hole?"
"Tch……."
They were just grumbling about being forcibly shipped to a rural prison.
'I'd better memorize their faces.'
Sloppy demeanor outside the knights' order, devoid of dignity.
She was jotting down their kill lists with the sharp eye of a seasoned commander.
Then, her gaze met that of a perceptive Bacar escort.
'What's with them staring? As ex-mafia types, are they picking a fight?'
To maintain her disguise, she quickly averted her eyes.
She had a burning sense of justice like her childhood friend Camillia, but knew when to bend for the mission.
"Hey, you there."
But the rough-faced escorts finally spoke up.
As she pondered how to subdue them—thinking their tempers matched the rumors...
"Want one?"
"Huh...?"
Instead of fists, they offered food, leaving her stunned.
"Candy like this is best for motion sickness."
"Right, yeah. We gave it to the help on long trips too."
Muscular builds and sharp features.
From their pockets came not poison, but lemon candies.
"Uh......"
"You want one, right? Here."
A round, cute candy placed in her palm like a Conan novel scene.
To blend with the inmates, she chewed it reluctantly.
"You lot take one too. Stop spitting and talk."
"What, treating us like kids?"
"Kid or adult, sweets restore your energy. Take it or leave it."
"......Gimme. Let's see how it tastes."
The unruly knights, who'd been surly, popped candies in too.
In return for the kindness, they straightened up and savored the sweetness quietly.
'Not bad, actually.'
Conan, arms crossed alone, nibbled like a squirrel with puffed cheeks.
"So why are you all going to this rehab program? You don't look like criminals."
She asked casually, mimicking the unruly knights' rough speech.
But her innate grace shone through; the escorts automatically called her "miss."
"First miss to ask that. Most folks take one look at us and get it."
One escort grinned slyly, and the others chuckled.
"Hey, speak for yourself. I'm pretty gentlemanly-looking."
"What? You've got malice etched between your brows like a rhino!"
'To me, they all look like wolves.'
The Wolf Boys led the pack, and their looks were strikingly handsome.
Just their sharp gazes and dark auras made them intimidating.
That's why the unruly knights amped up their thuggish act to not seem intimidated.
"As you see, our faces are too fierce. They say a rehab certificate clears that prejudice."
"Who said?"
"Our 'Don Derek,' of course."
Don Derek.
The title alone screamed underworld boss.
"We'll get training and basic etiquette drills. Intense, but you really feel yourself grow."
"......I see."
Conan was genuinely interested in the training.
The Bacar escorts on the carriage matched her knights' mana levels roughly.
Even as elites who'd passed entry exams, her unruly knights were outclassed.
How did untrained escorts reach similar heights?
If it was Don Derek's doing, his leadership was undeniable.
"I wanna feel proper training myself."
The northern commander chewed her candy solemnly.
The broad-shouldered escorts smiled fondly, like proud fathers.
"Want another?"
"Yes."
After melting about three candies...
The carriage finally halted at Berryhill Prison.
A sturdy brick fortress rising beneath eternal snowcapped mountains.
Without the blooming azaleas around, it'd look like a grim dungeon from a novel.
'This is the place.'
"Alright, everyone out—assemble at the training yard."
The experienced escorts lined up on their own.
Conan and the northern knights joined the ranks before the platform.
A man in black uniform stood there.
The leader they'd praised so highly: Don Derek.
'Found you.'
Deep shadows under his peaked cap.
Malignant green eyes glowing within.
Dark circles like abyssal depths, mana blended from countless unknown powers.
'Did he absorb the strength of those he defeated?'
Her exceptional Swordmaster insight uncovered a chilling truth.
This man wielded multiple powers simultaneously—a freakish talent.
'If the rehab program's just him fattening up ingredients to absorb... horrifying.'
Conan planned to subdue him if exposed.
Nearly Camillia's equal in skill, her eyes turned deadly serious.
"Welcome, inmates. Hope you've been well."
「We salute Don Derek!!」
The Bacar escorts roared in unison, the sound echoing around.
"Wolf Boys or whatever, enjoying celebrity life?"
「No, sir!!」
"No matter your exploits in the capital, here you're just prisoners. Even a commander is my slave in this place."
Conan flinched inwardly.
Had he already spotted her infiltration?
"Uniform up first, then reassemble at the parade ground. First event: 'Hierarchy Sort.'"
「Woooaaahhh―――!!」
The sturdy men cheered, fists pumping at "hierarchy."
"What's got them so hyped?"
"Like a martial tournament. Warden's idea—tie knots at your waist and compete in strength."
Conan tilted her head at the odd sport.
Then perked up at the warden's words.
"The top in Hierarchy Sort gets a very special prize."
「Don Derek!! Don Derek!!」
What was this vibe?
Felt familiar somehow.
Conan pondered where she'd felt it before.
She realized: the academy field trip. Her face soured.
"This match, I'll join personally. Better stay sharp."
Conan's brows shot up at the warden entering himself.
"Oh?"
As a lowly knight participant, she flashed a sinister smile.
Legal chance to pummel the guy who stole her childhood friend.
"Let's see how strong you really are."
She stretched like a noble white horse.
Hid her honed mana fiercely, glaring at the warden.