Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Expert at Making People (4)
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Requests to join my faction came pouring in.
I sent polite thanks to all of them for now...
'Could this be the Princess's influence too?'
She'd recently told me good news was on its way.
Still, I hadn't expected this flood of windfalls.
People in quite high positions were treating me as their superior.
At this rate, it looked like Camillia had recruited me as one of her companions on the path to becoming emperor.
Well, it wasn't a bad deal to keep close to someone who could prevent the empire's downfall.
Plus, she'd decided to side with us disaster-class prisoners.
I'd thought she was just a rigid, uncompromising character by the setting.
But she showed flexibility if they could be controlled—seeing potential in reformed prisoners as valuable allies.
'Why have those two been peeking around the warden's office since earlier...?'
I glanced toward the slightly ajar door of the warden's office.
There, lifeless red eyes and jade-green ones were peeking at me furtively.
With incredibly pitiful expressions.
Like they were looking at an abandoned kitten.
Feeling oddly unsettled, I rested my chin on my hand and called out.
"Hey, just because we moved you to the first-floor cells doesn't mean you're free."
Come to think of it, I'd heard them chattering nonstop in the hallway earlier.
Did these guys think this place was some kind of training camp?
"At least pretend you're imprisoned in your cells."
"What can you do? There are no handcuffs in this world that can bind me."
"Mm-hmm."
Anje's red crescent-moon smile.
Myoran nodded along like a sleek black cat.
"More importantly, that face... How much hardship must he have endured to turn such a pretty boy into... that."
"It's heartbreaking. He's not bad now, of course."
No, why did they keep looking at me with such pity?
Did I do something wrong to them?
"What's with you two? You didn't come here out of spite after killing Damas, did you?"
As I shot to my feet and demanded, they both shook their heads in unison.
"Don't worry. He's perfectly fine and alive."
"We sent him to the training grounds."
"Why the training grounds?"
"No idea. He said he wanted to become like you, so we told him to go practice his swordsmanship."
Myoran shrugged nonchalantly.
"He said becoming like me was his goal?"
"Yeah. He felt the overwhelming gap after taking a few hits earlier."
Since we'd already caught them spying, Myoran flung the door wide open.
She and Anje strolled right in as if it were the most natural thing.
"He said he wanted to grow strong enough to earn his father's recognition. Basics are essential for that."
She leaned casually against the wall.
Her eyes flicked over my body, enhanced by special privileges.
"Looking at your body now, you can see all the effort you've put in."
"True enough. Less like a pampered young master, more like someone tempered by harsh trials."
She had a point.
But why pair the praise with that sympathetic look?
"How badly did he want revenge to train so brutally...?"
"It's the fate of the chosen one. He has to overcome the trials sent by the gods to awaken."
Anje reclined gracefully on the sofa.
Propping her chin on her palm, she gazed at me like a goddess.
"So don't worry about Damas. He's just a silly little puppy of a boy."
This was unexpected.
The two of them hadn't killed or tormented Damas.
They'd even sent him out to train.
How had that kid won them over?
Puzzled, I donned my uniform cap.
"Play around a bit, then head back to your cells, got it?"
The disaster saintess sprawled on the sofa, staring intently at me.
She'd draped my discarded uniform jacket over her short dress.
Myoran sat naturally in my warden's chair.
She crossed her legs, exposing her thigh through the side slit.
"I'll think about it."
"It's comfy here."
Women who were final bosses in my past life.
Now treating me like an errand boy.
What if they decided I was useless and killed me on a whim...?
I was the warden in name, but it felt like I was a teacher at a delinquent school.
"Sigh..."
I closed the office door and descended the stairs leisurely.
On the training grounds, I spotted Damas gripping a wooden sword alone.
"Hey, since when could prisoners train outdoors?"
The moment he saw me, he flinched instinctively.
He fumbled to explain under my signature sinister glare.
"Well... Myoran suddenly told me to go practice swordsmanship."
"What does 'wanting to become like me' even mean?"
I crossed my arms and asked.
Gazing at the blond man who had inherited the blood of a political heavyweight.
"..."
Damas fell silent at my question.
He sorted through his thoughts slowly, then gripped his wooden sword tightly.
"Watching how the other prisoners look at you made me realize what I was lacking."
Unlike our first meeting, his eyes held a hint of seriousness.
For that moment, I could truly sense whose son he was.
"What is it?"
"A sense of responsibility."
He glanced bitterly at the blisters forming on his palms from a few swings.
"Those prisoners I met earlier are famous big shots. The kind who could kill hundreds with a flick of a finger."
The Grand Elder's son seemed deeply shocked; all trace of his arrogant noble air was gone.
He no longer saw me as the school outcast from our academy days.
"Even they think you're alright."
Damas, who had failed to earn his subordinates' trust on the battlefield.
He compared my position to his own.
"You never forgot your duty as warden and protected the prisoners. I, on the other hand, chased my father's legacy and drove my men to their deaths."
Damas turned and dove back into training.
Fiercely enough to burst all his blisters.
"I had zero sense of responsibility for my position. I was stuck in my immature student days like a spoiled brat."
His palms must have hurt like hell, yet he adjusted his stance again.
He'd cast off his father's halo and returned to basics.
"Like you said, I'll start from the bottom. I'll temper myself without relying on my father's name."
He swung the sword, sweat pouring down.
His fervor reached even me.
"Once I reach a level where I can take responsibility for others, I'll return to office."
I smiled inwardly at his newfound conviction.
He was a lion's cub, after all.
"Did Myoran just tell you to practice overhead strikes?"
"She said to polish the basics from scratch."
"Where'd you get the wooden sword? Prisoners aren't allowed those."
"A guard gave it to me. When I said the two prisoners told me to come, he handed it right over."
This felt like the prison hierarchy had flipped.
But since those two had given Damas a chance at redemption, maybe I'd help a little too.
"Blindly grinding basics is fine for kids."
Back in my academy days.
Being slower to learn than others, I'd been discarded—but I had my own training method.
"I'll teach you a good one. You up for it?"
"If you're offering, sure."
His face lit up like a golden retriever again.
But then, a wooden sword slammed down hard on his forehead.
"Argh...!!"
The Grand Elder's son clutched his head and shrank back.
I gave him serious advice.
"Everyone's born with the same body structure—just different innate senses."
Like in my first life, when I'd clawed my way to Swordmaster through sheer grit.
"Those with standout talent just awakened how to use their bodies properly first."
Nothing special about their talents.
Sure, mana capacity varied, but stamina could overcome that.
"Crammed education gives theory, but not which muscles you're using."
"Then how do you awaken it?"
The former student council president asked cautiously.
The bullied student of those days spoke with dull, venomous eyes.
"I learned by getting beaten by you all."
"Huh...?"
"Every time you hit me, I remembered how my body recoiled. I memorized which muscles moved instinctively for defense."
"..."
Only then did Damas realize why the guy before him was stronger than even the vice-captain he'd become.
The madness of using anything to grow stronger.
I'd mobilized every means to prevent the empire's fall.
To overcome this damn harsh start.
"Training while etching that sensation into my bones, my muscles finally obeyed me."
I gripped my sword and took stance.
Even now, at mid-tier Sword Expert—Imperial Knight level power.
"That's when I realized: the so-called 'talent' people talk about comes from effort to comprehend it."
The air whistled as I charged.
I struck his arm hard with the wooden sword.
"Today, I'll check if your words are just fancy talk or if you're serious about effort."
Damas wasn't planning to just take it; he wrapped mana around both arms.
The refined blue mana honed by elixirs and elite education.
"Fine. I won't just stand there either."
The blond man counterattacked with practiced moves.
Confident his mana was purer and stronger.
Ka-gak...!!
But.
From the clashing swords, he sensed something off.
"This is..."
He'd definitely reinforced his body with mana.
Boosted strength and muscle elasticity.
He assumed his opponent had done the same.
But he soon realized.
"What'll you do when your mana runs dry? Fight with those scrawny arms?"
My sword's raw power was pure muscle.
"Wars drag on forever. Not short and clean like academy spars. They repeat relentlessly until mana bottoms out."
"Urgh...!"
I shoved the locked swords hard.
As he staggered back,
I whipped his side, sending him tumbling in one blow.
"You can give up. Beating prisoners isn't my style."
I figured a pampered kid like him would balk at rough sparring.
But commendably, Damas grimaced and said,
"...I'm fine. Keep guiding me."
"You asked for it."
With an emotionless face, I began the one-sided beatdown.
The Grand Elder's son lost his serious expression as the intensity ramped up.
"W-wait. This isn't sparring!"
The session continued until nightfall.
At the passionate sounds, the Grand Elder—imprisoned far away—approached his cell window.
His son training with renewed conviction.
Dark watched the scene quietly, his face calm.
Evening arrived just like that.
Having thoroughly thrashed someone after so long, I felt refreshed.
"Damas held up better than expected."
In my past life, I'd pegged the Grand Elder's painful failure of a son as hopelessly immature.
But watching him up close, he wasn't that deficient.
Same for Anje and Myoran.
Maybe I could even get along with them as people.
I hoped these changes were good omens for a happy ending.
With that thought, I left the prison alone at a leisurely pace.
"Maybe I should buy a horse."
I'd earned a faction title, but I was still walking to work.
My home was a small shack near the prison.
I could've bought a nice house in the nearby village, but I'd invested everything in rebuilding the prison.
Of course, the nobles who'd requested to join would soon send bribes...
Better not bite too eagerly and end up leashed to the Princess.
With that mindset, I walked the dark night path.
Suddenly, a recently built villa nearby caught my eye.
'Right, some villa got built near the prison.'
A pristine platinum-colored building with a manicured lawn.
Obviously a rich noble's retreat.
But who?
Who builds a vacation home in this remote backwater, right by a dingy prison?
Intrigued, I approached cautiously.
Soon,
I heard splashing water from afar.
On this beautiful full-moon evening.
Following the sound to the villa's yard, I found a brand-new swimming pool.
Someone was swimming inside, dressed in a white dress shirt.
Beautifully, like a goddess from myth.
I drew closer to see her face.
That moment.
I blankly stared at sensual curves I'd never seen before.
Visible through the wet shirt clinging to her.
"...!!"
Sensing my gaze, she slowly turned her head.
Then, I recognized the golden-haired woman in the water.
The empire's First Princess, Camillia Andalusia.
'Why has the Princess built a villa next to my prison...?'
In my past life, she'd had no interest in luxuries like villas.
She'd been resting alone here when our eyes met.