275

Chapter 275: Tell Me (5)

Til stared fixedly into the forest from atop the wall.

Officially, he was supposed to be watching for demons that might approach.

But his heart kept searching for something else.

“Do you think he'll really come back?”

A stranger who had wandered into their village without knowing anything.

Or a sheltered young man they had assumed had merely been fortunate enough to avoid attacks from demons and wild beasts.

Or perhaps a runaway Young Master who knew nothing about the world.

I can't help it.

A mage who smiled as though troubled but absolutely refused to bend on the matter… someone clearly hiding things, yet somehow not unpleasant.

“I hope he comes back.”

They had only met today, yet Til was worried.

Perhaps even more so because the young man's nature had become obvious after only a few exchanges.

That was not someone who deserved to die.

“Who knows… can he really do it?”

“But he's a mage. Aren't mages supposed to be different somehow?”

“Hmm…….”

Til knew very little about mages.

He was a country bumpkin who had never seen one in person, much less encountered magic itself, so that was only natural.

But Til did know mages from fairy tales.

They summoned flames, overturned the earth, and raised waves.

In that case, couldn't that young man do the same?

Sure, every mage in fairy tales wore a pointed hat and had a long white beard.

That young man, on the other hand, was extremely young and didn't even carry a staff.

Still.

“I can't really say when I've never seen a mage myself. But… I hope you're right too.”

“We should've given him a fortune pouch.”

“Ah! You're right. I didn't even think of that!”

And so the villagers, none of whom had ever seen a real mage, gathered on top of the wall and quietly prayed together.

What they wished for was the possibility of a miracle.

A miracle that more soldiers had survived amid all those demons.

A miracle that the surviving soldiers would encounter the young man.

A miracle that they would all return here safely.

That kind of miracle.

“Ah, I see him!”

And around the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, someone shouted.

“He actually brought people back!”

“Hurry! Lower the rope!”

It was the moment their prayer came true.

* * *

Rather than sleep while his thoughts remained tangled, Deathbringer chose to stay awake.

Considering that they would be leaving at dawn tomorrow, he couldn't remain awake for very long, but he didn't particularly want to sleep right now.

If he put his face against a pillow in this state, strange thoughts would probably just keep sprouting one after another.

“Ugh…….”

“Why're you acting like a dog that needs to shit?”

“──!”

Apparently, he'd sunk too deeply into thought.

He had failed to notice the footsteps of none other than Meister.

A silent scream poured out through his ears and tail, which shot straight up.

His heart hammered.

“Wh-why are you out here……?”

“This.”

Slosh.

Something in Meister's hand made a clear sound.

It was a jar about the size of a person's head, complete with a handle.

“…I'm only asking because I desperately hope I'm wrong, but is that alcohol?”

Naturally, the jar itself couldn't produce that sound.

There had to be liquid inside.

And judging from the fact that Meister had brought it outside, that liquid certainly wasn't water.

“If you know, why ask?”

“You lunatic. Where'd you even get that?”

“The Village Chief gave it to me as thanks for dealing with the beasts.”

“You didn't even kill them.”

“So what? Ask for some yourself.”

The straight-laced lady does all the work, and that lunatic collects the reward.

Deathbringer's face twisted.

It twisted even further when Meister squatted down beside him.

“Get lost. This is my spot.”

“Strictly speaking, the resident here is the Village Chief, so this land belongs to the Village Chief, not you.”

“God. You seem like the type who'd fall into a river and somehow only your mouth would stay floating.”

“Wouldn't it be better for my mouth to float than for even that to sink?”

“You think that sounded like a compliment?”

“You think I thought it was one?”

The instant that exchange ended, Deathbringer and Meister raised their middle fingers at each other.

Neither left.

Their shared mentality was essentially, If anyone's leaving, that bastard can leave. Why should I?

Pride ultimately kept the two of them sitting in the same place.

Sip.

“…….”

Seriously, what a lunatic.

Deathbringer let out an involuntary sigh as Meister drank straight from the jar instead of even bothering with a cup.

He tried to ignore it, but with a jar the size of someone's head shifting around at the edge of his vision, not looking became impossible.

Eventually, his legs moved.

“What? Why'd you come back?”

“Because some fucking bastard is drinking straight from the jar right in front of me.”

Whoosh.

One of the two wooden cups he'd swiped from the kitchen flew toward Meister's hand.

He had tossed it lightly enough for even an ordinary person to catch, so Meister caught it without difficulty.

Deathbringer sat back down in his original spot.

“I never said I'd share.”

“And I never asked you to.”

Like hell I'm going to ask.

Deathbringer snorted as he looked at the wooden cup he'd brought for himself.

“I brought this to steal some.”

“Are you some kind of thief?”

“You only just realized?”

Ignoring Meister's halfhearted attempt to stop him, Deathbringer dipped his cup into the jar.

A rich, mellow scent drifted upward.

Mead.

“Kh.”

It was sour and bitter without much sweetness.

It had aged incredibly well.

Deathbringer smacked his lips over the strong liquor—relatively speaking—that he hadn't tasted in quite some time.

“Temple wine before meals can't even compare…….”

“That stuff's basically juice.”

“True.”

What kind of alcohol was something even children could drink?

It was just juice.

Deathbringer stole another cup of mead and poured it into his mouth.

He deliberately ignored the karmic punishment called a hangover that would come tomorrow.

He was simply in the mood to drink.

“May I have a cup as well?”

“What the—why are there so many bastards stealing my—”

“Pfffft!”

Wait.

At the voice that suddenly joined them, Deathbringer spat out the alcohol in his mouth.

Meister also seemed rather startled, blinking several times.

“Cough, cough.”

“Are you all right?”

Damn it, alcohol went up my nose.

Deathbringer coughed several times against the stinging pain.

A hand came over and patted his back.

He wasn't especially grateful.

“Wh-why are you out here too, Blockhead?”

“Is there some reason I shouldn't be?”

“Well, no, but…….”

Seriously, why was the Inquisitor out here?

More importantly, if he'd heard correctly, had the Inquisitor just asked for alcohol?

Deathbringer's eyes trembled as he wondered whether his perception was already failing him.

“Here.”

In the meantime, Meister was pouring alcohol into the cup the Inquisitor held out.

“…You know how to drink?”

“……? Of course?”

At the Inquisitor's genuinely puzzled look, Deathbringer suddenly realized his mistake.

Right.

She was from the Temple too.

The Temple that served light wine with every meal.

“I should've gotten two jars.”

“It's all right. I won't drink much.”

But Temple wine was so weak you could empty several bottles without getting drunk.

Was it really all right to give properly brewed mead to someone like her……?

Deathbringer considered it briefly, then gave up.

It was already too late.

The Inquisitor had brought the cup to her lips.

“…It's stronger than I expected.”

“This isn't even particularly strong.”

In the end, all three crouched side by side in front of the house, slowly sipping alcohol.

No conversation passed between them.

Silence and moonlight served as their drinking snacks.

Read only on MUGEX

“…Meister. Is there perhaps magic that can calm confusion?”

By the time the jar was almost empty, the Inquisitor finally spoke.

Deathbringer's hand, which had been lifting the last of his drink, paused.

Meister set down the empty cup.

“My head may be good, but even I can't understand something when you put it that broadly.”

“I mean… something like confusion within the heart.”

“Something like a heart demon?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You think there is?”

“…I see.”

“What even is a heart demon in the first place? It just means your mind's all tangled up. Usually your mind gets tangled because your surroundings are shitty, or your personal situation is shitty, or something along those lines. And you want to change all that with a single little burst of magic? If that were possible, that wouldn't be a mage. That'd be God.”

“Of course, some problems can be solved with a single Fireball.”

The added remark was utterly useless advice.

By that logic, there was no problem in the world that couldn't be solved with a sword either.

“Then…….”

“Well, there is another method.”

“……?”

“Messing with the head.”

“…Messing with what?”

Wait a damn minute.

Deathbringer found himself cutting in from sheer disbelief.

Meister tapped a finger against one temple.

“The head. More precisely, the brain underneath the skin and bone.”

“…Why would you mess with that? No, more importantly, what could you possibly accomplish by touching it?”

“You can erase emotions. Maybe memories too.”

The answer went so far beyond anything he'd imagined that Deathbringer's words simply stopped.

The Inquisitor seemed to feel similarly, because she made no sound at all.

“Of course, the success rate is low. As far as I remember, ninety percent either died or became idiots.”

“…No, what the fuck? Why would you suggest something with a ten-percent success rate?”

“That was the situation twenty years ago. Who knows where it stands now? Though… there's no way the Temple would've approved experiments like that, so it may still be exactly where it was.”

“For fuck's sake…….”

If the Temple wouldn't approve it, there was no chance the castle authorities would either.

Which meant the procedure was illegal.

Why would you suggest that to someone from the Temple?

Deathbringer reached that thought and only then realized something.

…How did Meister know an illegal procedure existed, much less its success rate?

“Obviously, I'm not seriously recommending it. I'm just saying… if you can never find an answer, removing the very capacity to feel the suffering is technically one method.”

“…How is that any different from saying death makes everything easier?”

He must have drunk too much.

Deathbringer somehow forced sound out through his suddenly parched throat.

“Good point.”

Meister's dry voice only made his thirst worse.

What a fucking awful feeling.

“…I see.”

Meanwhile, the Inquisitor showed no particular reaction one way or the other.

Normally, she would have recoiled in disgust.

The lack of any such reaction felt ominous.

“It's late. We should go to sleep soon.”

She wasn't actually tempted by the idea, was she?

Deathbringer almost grabbed the hem of the Inquisitor's clothes on reflex.

The only reason he didn't was because he was afraid she might answer yes.

“Yeah.”

He was genuinely afraid.

* * *

“Does the food suit your taste?”

I'd nearly ended up in danger several times while rescuing the soldiers, but in the end, it had been a good decision.

Not only had all the wariness I'd ordinarily have faced as an outsider disappeared, but I had also gained a place to sleep and dinner.

“Yes. It's really delicious.”

Even better, the place where I'd be spending the night was the Village Chief's house.

In other words, the same house where the injured soldiers—and the person who had given me the clue called “Atya”—were staying.

I'd already needed to find some excuse to approach that person somehow.

Thanks to the Village Chief offering to let me stay here, I no longer needed to invent one.

I smiled happily at the outcome my gamble had produced.

There really was nothing wrong with doing good deeds.

“Eat plenty.”

“I will.”

“Have some meat too.”

“Hahaha… yes.”

Of course… the meat dish they'd prepared because I'd worked so hard was a little burdensome.

It was precious meat, given purely out of goodwill, so I couldn't bring myself to refuse it.

“Do you drink?”

“Ah, alcohol……”

I rolled my eyes and smiled awkwardly.

“Mages aren't allowed to drink…….”

It was a lie, but apparently I was the only mage they'd ever met, so who cared?

I lied as naturally as breathing, and although the Village Chief looked regretful, the lie was swallowed whole.

“Mages have it rough… never being allowed alcohol for their entire lives…….”

“Haha… part of that is because I'm still a trainee. It isn't forbidden for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. You need a clear mind to control Mana properly…….”

But that wasn't exactly wrong, was it?

How well could someone really control Mana while drunk?

“I see. Then eat more meat instead.”

“Yes, yes.”

I placed only as much meat as the Village Chief cut for me onto my plate and filled the rest to the brim with vegetables.

Apparently because I made sure to chew meat whenever the Village Chief looked in my direction, nobody noticed I was being picky.

“There's more meat left than I expected……?”

Well, the Village Chief did seem a little puzzled by the end…

I casually changed the subject by suggesting, “It might be good to give it to the injured people when they wake up.”

Was it all right to give sick people leftovers?

That thought did occur to me, but food—especially meat—was precious enough that nobody objected.

Though the people who were actually supposed to eat it were all unconscious…

So their opinions weren't exactly reflected.

“Father! One of the soldiers woke up!”

But when one finally did wake, the leftover meat never even made it onto the cutting board.

“He says we need to report the situation to Münmund immediately… what do we do?”

A much bigger problem was waiting for us.