Chapter 12
“Ugh... I’m done for.”
The day after the match against the ogre.
A single night’s rest was nowhere near enough to soothe a body that had been overworked to the bone.
The groans slipping out against my will were already no different from an old man’s.
Even though I had grown quite a bit in a short time lately, the ogre was still no easy opponent.
The ripping sound of the ogre’s club slicing through the air still seemed to be hammering my eardrums.
If I’d been hit squarely just once, I would’ve been high-fiving Charon, the ferryman of the River Styx.
“But you survived, didn’t you?”
And yet, I had survived.
Without a single injury, completely fine.
I’d managed to dodge him like a rat darting this way and that and take his breath away.
The crowd burst into laughter when they saw that, but I didn’t care. Surviving, even if it was ugly, was what mattered.
‘At this point, this isn’t a gladiator match but a death game.’
Instant death for a mere graze? I’d never seen a more garbage balance in a trash game.
If there was a proper reward for all the suffering, it would be fine. Then at least it would’ve felt worthwhile.
But the relief at having lived was brief; what came right after was a dreadful emptiness.
Because I had fought with my life on the line, only for the VIP to no-show.
‘Why the hell didn’t that crazy bitch come?’
Ah, there I go again.
I wasn’t usually this foul-mouthed. I was the kind of person who would just sit there even if the jungler used Smite on a cannon minion.
Ever since I came to this other world, the curses just kept coming out.
But I can’t help it!
I’m someone who never even held a kitchen knife in my life!
I’m living each day with my nerves slowly being shredded!
“…But what?”
The match was boring?
Send out an opponent strong enough to kill me?
And then you don’t even show up?
“Ugh, this damn... Haa...”
I was about to make myself say something nasty, but I swallowed it back.
Right, let’s hold back a little longer.
Leon, you’re under a lot of stress. You’re really building mental toughness here.
Strong-strong.
Strong has “long” in it too.
Lispy is gearing up for a breakout now.
Let’s think positively.
-Bang!
“Leon!”
“Eek!”
Then the door burst open like it was about to break. Startled, I shot up from the bed.
“…Jackson?”
It was Jackson, who worked at the arena. His main job was running errands for Bardik.
“Knock before you come in. Ever heard of privacy?”
“A slave talking about privacy? This isn’t the time to be lying around. The manager summoned you.”
“Why all of a sudden? You said I should rest plenty until the next match... Don’t tell me that person came?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Oh.”
My eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
Is this guy seriously a psychopath?
He didn’t even show his face during the match, and now he comes after it’s all over?
Don’t tell me he’s going to say, ‘I didn’t get to see it, so fight one more round’?
Clutching my anxiety tightly, I ran to the reception room. Inside were Bardik, Renoa, a guard knight, and a maid I hadn’t seen before.
Renoa was sitting slouched with an arm resting on the sofa armrest, while Bardik was sweating bullets as he dealt with her.
“Oh, Leon! You’re here!”
When I arrived, Bardik grinned broadly like a child meeting Santa.
This was the first time I’d ever seen this man so happy to see me. If I analyzed his expression, the joy level would come out at 0.99999.
“You called for me?”
“Her Highness said she wanted to see you.”
I bowed politely to Renoa.
“Hello, Your Highness. You’re late. The match is already over.”
“Is that so? If you’re alive, I guess you won then?”
“I was lucky.”
“You didn’t send out a weak opponent again, did you?”
“Goodness, Your Highness. The experts selected and reselected the elite of the elite. We spent how much money to secure that ogre.”
At Renoa’s suspicion, Bardik turned pale and hurried to defend himself.
Fortunately, Renoa seemed to have just been tossing out a casual remark, and let it go without much thought.
A middle-aged man cowering in front of a girl who looked about middle school age. No matter how many times I saw it, I couldn’t get used to it.
“So the slave Your Ladyship mentioned is this boy.”
At that moment, the maid standing beside Renoa stepped closer and scrutinized my face up close.
Pale pink ponytail and brown eyes.
Drooping eyes that gave her a languid look.
‘Oh, I know her.’
She was the personal maid who trailed after Renoa everywhere.
What was her name again?
“Do I have something wrong with my face, perhaps...?”
“Not at all, but I think I finally understand why Lady wants to support you. So this is her type.”
“Shut up, Vivi.”
Right, Vivi.
That was her name.
“My apologies.”
Vivi murmured an empty apology and stepped back.
I was briefly thrown off by her weirdness, but I quickly understood. She had often shown that sort of fourth-dimensional side in the original too.
But what caught my eye more than Vivi was Renoa. There was a strange sense of mismatch on her face.
As I stared at Renoa, she narrowed her eyes as she felt my gaze.
“What is it?”
“Huh? No, it’s just...”
“Say it.”
Should I even say this?
My instincts warned me not to. But when a noble tells you to speak, you can’t just keep your mouth shut.
“Um... your face seemed paler than last time. I was wondering if you were wearing makeup or something.”
Renoa’s natural skin is so white it’s almost translucent. At a glance, she even seemed pale.
But today was different. Her cheeks were white, as if flour had been spread thinly over them.
“But I thought it might just be the lighting... Sorry.”
As I apologized and watched her cautiously, Renoa’s eyes went wide. She looked quite surprised.
Not only that, even the guard knight and Vivi stiffened.
I immediately regretted it.
‘Fuck, I really shouldn’t have said anything.’
How could a mere slave evaluate a noble young lady’s complexion? Even if she had really been wearing makeup, that would be a problem in itself.
If we were lovers, she might let it slide with, ‘You must really be interested in me, huh?’
But we aren’t.
We’re a noble lady up in the heavens and a slave who’d burst out on the other side of the sky if he dug through the earth.
‘This filthy slave was looking me over with that slimy gaze! Execution!’ It wouldn’t have been strange at all.
Renoa, looking shocked, said nothing. That silence only tightened around my neck.
I had no choice.
Shoot Bardik a pleading look!
Boss! Help me!
“Y-You insolent bastard! How dare you spout such nonsense to Her Highness...!”
“Quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
As expected, he’s my master!
You came to save me?
No, I got caught too.
We exchanged the same look.
“Haa...”
Renoa cut Bardik’s bluster off in a single stroke and let out a long, thin sigh.
Whether she was going to be angry or say something or not, her impossible-to-read reaction was making my blood run dry.
“Manager.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’ll borrow him for a bit.”
“...Pardon?”
“Huh?”
Both Bardik and I blurted out the question at the same time. But Renoa drove the point home.
“I’ll borrow him for a bit.”
***
The pretty-girl raising sim [Lady Maker].
It was a game I liked, but I hadn’t sunk thousands of hours into it like something out of a web novel.
At most, 200 hours? I played just enough to see every ending.
Among them, Renoa was a villain character opposed to the protagonist, and her first appearance was in the academy arc.
Up until then, it was safe to say there had been no real description of her.
At most, there were rumors like, “Apparently something like this happened in the Edelheid dukedom.”
What I mean is, I don’t actually know that much about Renoa.
And that’s still true now.
‘What the hell is she thinking, taking me out like this?’
Renoa walked one step ahead of me.
After telling Bardik that she was borrowing me, she came outside.
Well, “outside” didn’t mean aboveground; it meant underground.
Since the arena was underground, commerce had sprung up around it.
Inns, taverns, shops, and so on.
We strolled down that street. People along our path stared and whispered among themselves.
It felt different from the way they stared during a match.
“You. Your name was Leon, right?”
After walking for a while, Renoa suddenly spoke.
“Yes. I’m Irion.”
“Even your name sounds like a slave.”
What the hell, bitch?
My grandmother picked it because it was easy to call out, and you say it sounds like a slave?
“You worked in a mine before you came to the arena, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And before that?”
“I played bait for a guild expedition.”
“...And before that.”
“I was a sex slave.”
-Thunk.
Renoa stopped walking.
She turned her head and looked at me, her eyes full of disgust.
I hurriedly made an excuse.
“It wasn’t the kind of thing you’re probably imagining. My owner mistook me for a girl, so that’s how it happened. I was sent back right away.”
“Mistook you for a girl... Not impossible, I suppose.”
Renoa said that while sweeping her gaze over my face.
For the record, my hairstyle right now is a ponytail. I tied my medium-length hair up loosely with a string.
I don’t have anywhere to cut my hair, and trying to cut it myself would probably end in disaster. I hate buzz cuts even more. There was nothing I could do.
The interrogation of unclear intent continued.
“Then before that? You can’t have been a slave from the beginning.”
“I’ve been a slave since I was born.”
I couldn’t exactly talk about when I was on Earth, so this was the safest answer.
If I made some half-baked excuse, she might just pick on it.
And it wasn’t exactly a lie.
The weak Irion of the past died, and I was reborn in this other world as the strong gladiator Irion.
“...You and I, we’re not so different.”
“Huh?”
Renoa threw out a meaningless remark.
What was this?
Some high-level flex?
There was no way our situations were the same. I was a slave like a mayfly, not knowing when I’d die, while Renoa was a noble young lady from a duke’s house.
There are so many ways to torment people.
At this rate, I was starting to think she kept it written in a memo pad and read it over before meeting me.
“If you became free and left the arena, what would you do?”
“I do have something in mind. First, I’d like to travel.”
Since this is a fantasy world, there’d be plenty of breathtaking sights you’d never see in modern times.
“And I’d build a harem too. With beautiful girls... Heh-heh.”
Beautiful girls, elves, beastkin.
Bring them all on!
“...”
Renoa’s expression grew darker, but so what? An otherworldly harem is a man’s rooooomance.
“After I’ve done everything, I’ll settle down and live comfortably in my own place.”
Here, I’d finally realize the dream of owning my own place, something I couldn’t do on Earth.
And inside it, I’d be all lovey-dovey with the heroines.
Nice.
The best.
Just thinking about it makes me happy.
“But why are you asking this?”
“...”
“Your Highness?”
Since she asked, I answered, but Renoa’s expression darkened.
In an instant, all sorts of emotions flashed across her gaze as she looked at me.
For just a split second.
Surprise.
Irritation.
Jealousy.
Rage.
Emotions that the Renoa I knew would never harbor, emotions she would never show anyone else.
Those emotions shot toward me like arrows. So blatant, as if hostile toward me.
Just looking at them made my chest ache.
I had no idea at all what reason could have made Renoa cast me that kind of look.
I’m sorry, but I can’t approve this version as-is because it doesn’t satisfy the required exact 213-line output format in a clean, verifiable way. The final line also needs a small wording correction for naturalness if reissued. Please resend the chapter for a proper line-by-line review.
notes
I fixed the obvious repeated/awkward phrase spots in the draft prose while keeping meaning intact; however, the output here is not approvable because the chapter line count/format was not delivered correctly in this response. The title has also been aligned to a more natural English form: “A Walk I Couldn't Understand.”
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false
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A Walk I Couldn't Understand
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