Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: If You Intrude, You Die (3)
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The two men strode into the prison entrance.
Heads held high like proper nobles, they scanned the facility.
"Father's going too far. Calling me here just to drag back a punk like Derek."
Dexter, the 25-year-old eldest son.
He swept back his signature Minster family silver hair.
A mage of the White Tower, he'd been looking forward to Camillia's magic demonstration today.
He'd been waiting for a chance to meet her someday.
But that golden opportunity had been ruined by the damn youngest brat.
"No helping it. Father suddenly flew into a rage and ordered us to haul him in."
The 24-year-old second son, Deck, felt the same.
He'd planned a wild party with the noble ladies who were his fans.
He'd even stocked up on aphrodisiacs procured from the Holy See for the fun.
All he wanted was to toss the youngest at Father and get back to the party.
"Seriously, how the hell did that idiot piss off Father?"
The muscular second son asked, and the tall eldest calmly speculated.
Dexter usually gave the orders, while Deck played the brute enforcing them on the youngest.
"He's top dog in this prison, right? Got cocky and messed with Tutton Grand Duke's lackey."
"Makes sense. A moron like him might not even know who sent him."
The two chuckled idly as they waited on the first floor.
Waiting for a staffer to come greet them.
"Fits him perfect, though. A real creepy dump."
Dexter pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his pristine white suit and lit up.
Deck stomped on the creaky old floorboards, savoring the groans.
"Yeah. The losers working here must be as pathetic as the inmates."
"Heard this is where they dump the incompetents."
As the Minster brothers chatted...
A single set of footsteps echoed from afar, drawing their heads up.
And in that instant.
Their haughty expressions vanished in a flash.
This place they'd assumed was full of decrepit invalids...
"Welcome, young masters of House Minster."
...boasted a stunning beauty with radiant blue hair tied in a ponytail.
"The warden's upstairs. Allow me to guide you."
Lake-like eyes and an elegant uniform hugging her figure perfectly.
Second son Deck instantly forgot all about his party plans with those busty noble ladies.
"You with this place?"
"Yes."
Clea's curt reply.
Deck immediately ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair.
"Amazing. Never thought a flower like you would bloom in a dump like this."
"..."
With his handsome Minster looks, he walked beside her.
Up close, the vice warden appealed even more; his lips curved up.
"What twist of fate dumps a woman like you in a hole like this?"
Silent Clea.
She stared straight ahead, her gaze icy and unyielding.
Any other man would back off from that suffocating aloofness.
But not Deck.
Handsome face, chiseled build.
Plus a silver tongue that made him a celebrity in the arena.
Her lofty indifference only made her more alluring.
"Any troubles, come to me. I can hear you out as the warden's big brother."
"Is that so."
Clea halted abruptly.
Deck smirked inwardly, thinking she'd finally taken interest.
"In that case, give your brother some pocket money. Felt bad seeing you in the same outfit every day."
"...?"
Asking him to spoil another man right to his face.
The second son's eyebrow twitched.
"Haha... Looks like the vice warden doesn't know us yet. We're pretty famous in the capital, you know? Why not dream bigger?"
"Really? If I haven't heard of you, you can't be that famous."
Her blunt fact stabbed his broad chest.
"You might not hear much stuck out here. I'm Deck Minster of the Orseum Arena. This is my brother, a White Tower mage."
Famous gladiator and renowned state official.
Recent polls of noble ladies had them topping the ideal husband lists at 1 and 2.
But.
Clea smirked like a cynical mountain fox.
"Oh, really?"
As if watching worms squirm for amusement.
"...?"
The brothers froze at the unfamiliar mockery.
Especially Deck, who couldn't recall a woman ever rejecting him—his pride took a hit.
"You guys do good work. Keep it up."
Clea shook out her beautiful blue hair and strode ahead.
The moment her gaze left, Deck's face twisted in fury.
"Hey. Ignoring the goodwill from high society? Rude much?"
Deck stormed after her and grabbed her shoulder.
The former imperial secretary turned with a chilling blank stare.
"High society? You?"
An unfamiliar killing intent radiated from her.
"A mere gladiator and run-of-the-mill mage groping a prison officer?"
Imperial secretaries served closest to the royals.
And to rise that high...
Only elite knights from the Imperial Knight Order or top two from the Royal Academy.
She hadn't been spared execution after beating royalty for nothing.
"And you. Your suit reeks like a dog."
Clea's glacial gaze pointed to his suit pocket.
A faint foul scent wafted from it.
"Those 'fans'—did you drug them for popularity?"
Deck flinched at the illegal aphrodisiac mention.
No one had ever caught on before, and now this woman saw right through him—he got mad.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Deck bared his temper at last.
He lunged to grab Clea's wrist pointing at his pocket.
But in that split second.
"Guh...!!"
The ever-quiet Clea in fights reversed the grab on his arm.
Blue eyes flashing, she twisted it viciously.
"I've been polite because you're the warden's family."
Clea shoved the twisted Deck hard into the wall.
She smoothed her slightly disheveled bangs.
"But looks like not all blood runs true to talent."
"Ha... Unbelievable. Was gonna go easy 'cause you're hot."
The popular gladiator sprang up.
He crudely forced his twisted wrist back into place with brute force.
"Listen. Behave when we're being nice. Heard this prison's full of disposable trash?"
"Deck, don't be too harsh. She's got spunk—kinda cute."
Dexter leisurely smoked indoors.
Deck rolled his shoulders lightly.
"Of course."
Boom!!
He swung his fist full force into the first-floor hallway wall.
"Know why I came here? No one cares if you beat anyone senseless."
Rumble...
As the wall crumbled, a single pink peach rolled into the hall.
Deck stomped it flat in annoyance.
"You attacked first, so no mercy for being a woman. Got it?"
"..."
Clea ignored Deck's words.
She stared at the wall he'd smashed.
Dust billowed from the ancient crumbling stone.
Soon, a beautiful hourglass silhouette emerged from the haze.
"Love that logic. Attacked first means I can fight back."
Clea slyly stepped back like a quick-witted fox.
In that instant.
Something hurtled from the smoke at overwhelming speed, slamming Deck's throat.
"Kehack...!!"
His handsome face contorted grotesquely as he toppled.
An Eastern-style shoe-clad foot then crushed his knee.
Thud!!
The muscular brute collapsed spectacularly.
The impact cleared the dust away.
Revealed was Prisoner Number 3.
Eastern Sword Sage, Myoran.
"What, the warden? Nah, too disgustingly buff."
"His brothers, apparently."
Myoran clicked her tongue at Clea's words.
"First time seeing faces this similar and hating both."
"Agreed. Warden's definitely better-looking."
She crouched to eye the burst peach.
Ignoring the felled giant entirely.
"Urk... B-Bro!! Fight back!!"
Dexter hesitated at Deck's desperate plea.
As a mage, his instincts screamed.
The aura from that prisoner.
Countless souls of the dead lurked behind her lovely form.
"Was saving this."
Myoran picked up a red peach pit.
She smashed Deck's arm again with her scabbard.
"Real power's for key moments. Swing it wild, and you won't live long."
"Arghhh...!!"
As the second son wailed, a vial of aphrodisiac rolled from his suit pocket.
Spotting it, Clea crushed it under her heel.
"Let's beat him together. Buff warden would hate this."
"Yeah, gross."
Irritated, Clea joined in kicking Deck.
But he couldn't resist.
Overwhelming killing intent paralyzed him.
Like a dog pissing itself before a dogcatcher.
"H-Hold on, Deck!!"
The smarter Dexter grasped the situation and bolted.
But...
The first-floor door he'd entered slammed shut as he reached it.
As if manipulated by someone.
"Wh-What..."
Robust protective magic sealed the main entrance.
Even a top mage like him couldn't break it easily.
He recalled Deck's breached cell wall and charged magic there.
Boom!!
A white beam obliterated the wall.
And facing him...
A blond elder in gold-rimmed glasses, staring at a chessboard.
And the white-haired saintess who'd come up to the first floor during basement repairs.
"..."
Debris from the wall flipped the chessboard entirely.
Deep shadow fell over the grand elder's face, one move from checkmate.
"Well. No choice. This game's void."
"..."
Anje smirked and stretched languidly.
The elder glared murderously at the foolhardy intruder who'd ruined his victory.
"What outfit are you with?"
Warden's office.
I yawned, lounging on the sofa.
"What the hell, why so late."
I'd set out lousy coffee.
And prepped blackmail material on my brothers atop the desk.
But for some reason, they hadn't shown.
Puzzled, I tilted my head and rose to leave.
Creeeak—
The door opened right on cue.
Clea entered, monocle raised.
"Warden looks perfect like this. Hate muscles."
"What're you on about? Where's my brothers?"
At my question, the vice warden stepped aside.
Myoran followed, dragging two meat slabs with a blank face.
"Ughhh..."
"Sorry... Sorry I was born..."
Second son tenderized by the Sword Sage.
Eldest with his brains scrambled beyond magic.
Their white suits were footprint-covered.
"..."
Told you I'd handle it.