Chapter 29
*
“I am Belgian. I came to bring you, one who also deals in death like I do, a very interesting proposal.”
The fallen noble Belgian bowed gracefully.
Only when he came a little closer could I see his face.
The right side of his face, revealed beneath the red lantern, was covered by a mask.
“Judging by that crow mask of yours, you must be the one called Mr. Schnabel, but have I perhaps come to the wrong person?”
“No. You found the right place.”
At my answer, the man called Belgian smiled faintly.
My brow furrowed at that smile.
Of course, he wouldn't be able to see it because I was wearing a mask.
“Good. Then let me begin again. I've heard plenty about what you've done down in this pit.”
“I was lucky.”
“Ha! Have you been rolling around in this cesspit so long that you've forgotten nobility? Humility is a virtue flaunted by those who have nothing in the first place. Have you ever seen a magnificent peacock tuck its tail in and hide? Even if we stand on this muddy ground, nobles like us should gladly spread our wings and show them off if we have the power to do so.”
At the sight of the man expounding at length on his beliefs, Eri's cheeks stiffened.
“Ugh. He sounds like a nouveau riche.”
Eri muttered in a voice only we could hear.
I agreed with her one hundred percent.
“Ah, I've gone on too long by myself. That's one of my bad habits. My apologies.”
“It's all right. So what happened to the ghoul you sent me?”
“Mm... where should I start with my grand design so that it's easier for you to understand...?”
Belgian slowly stroked his intact left jaw before speaking again.
“Yes, let me begin here. I intended to teach those uncivilized beasts in Sector H about order. I needed to bring that disordered cesspool into perfect unity beneath my feet.”
“For a nouveau riche, his dreams are awfully big—mmph!”
Boss's rough hand clamped over Eri's mouth.
Then he leaned in close to Eri's ear and whispered in a voice loud enough for me to hear too.
“Watch your mouth, kid. That guy is Tier 2.”
“Huh?! Why is a Tier 2 here?”
“How should I know, damn it? Still, if it's that man, he could probably unify Sector H with ease.”
Oh.
So he was Tier 2.
I could only sense up to Tier 1.
Normally, people can only perceive the realm one step above their own.
In other words, a Tier 0 can only detect up to Tier 1, and a Tier 1 can only detect up to Tier 2.
Because of that, if a Tier 1 met a Tier 7, there was a chance they would mistake them for a Tier 2.
“So for now, just focus on keeping that guy happy, kid.”
At Boss's warning, Eri swallowed dryly.
Thankfully, it seemed Eri's muttering hadn't reached Belgian's ears.
Belgian was still under the red lantern, carrying on with exaggerated gestures like a theater actor.
“But to achieve my goal, I needed an army that would work for this body. Fortunately, the right time to carry out the plan had finally come.”
I could tell without him saying it.
For a black mage to create a ghoul from nothing, it takes a fair amount of mana.
And this isn't a world where every individual has that much mana to spare, so if you make ghouls this way, the maximum is one a day.
That's why black mages tend to search for places soaked with impurity and mana as much as possible.
If they find a good spot, they can save dozens of times the mana.
It's easier to understand if you think of it as finding a place with low humidity to light a fire.
And of course, a place that already has kindling is easier than starting a fire from scratch.
That black mage seemed to have taken advantage of that.
“You waited for the ghoul to arise naturally?”
“Oh? To think you even know magic? Impressive.”
But there were also people who couldn't follow our conversation.
“Wizard conversations are always hard to follow, aren't they. Kid, you said you were studying magic these days. Did you get it?”
“I haven't even gotten past the basics. What about you, Boss?”
“Mm. I became Tier 1 through something other than magic.”
Belgian's brow furrowed at the two of them whispering.
But only for a moment.
He soon smoothed the lines between his brows and spoke with an air of utter smugness.
“If ruling over the ignorant underlings means enlightening them, then I suppose it's also the duty of one who stands above them.”
Tap, tap.
Belgian lifted his staff and struck the ground twice.
Then the shadow at his feet lengthened and seeped into Narenkönig's headless corpse, which was lying in the mud.
Crack! Creak!
“Eek!”
Eri screamed and hid behind Boss's back.
The massive body that had been limp just moments before rose to its feet in a staggering motion, emitting grotesque cracking sounds from its bones.
Dark red blood dripped from the severed neck, yet the corpse stood upright beside Belgian.
Belgian tapped the shoulders of that headless clown with his staff and said haughtily,
“Raising a beast from the start is hard work, but putting a leash on one isn't all that difficult. To put it more simply, if it's a naturally born ghoul, then lead is enough, you wretches.”
Lead symbolizes the iron that traps souls.
I don't know the mechanism.
That's just how the laws of this world are.
For that reason, when black mages control corpses, they sometimes drive lead into the head or neck and use it like an antenna.
And, as a side note, that's why the standard strategy against undead became to smash the skull first.
“Fate happened to help me, too. This winter, I even found such a fine corpse. Thanks to that, preparing for the plan was a great deal easier.”
Belgian said this while tapping the headless clown's knee with his staff.
“But as expected, Tier 1 corpses are too self-aware. I never thought it would break free the moment it spotted the one who killed it. I originally sent it to escort you.”
A ghoul escort.
At any rate, I could tell that this man was not in his right mind.
“Normally, I should demand payment for you two ruining my precious collection. But...”
Belgian looked down at the headless corpse.
His gaze turned cold.
“Still, it was I who was rude. To think it was someone you had ties of favor and enmity with. Since I sent something like this as an errand runner, allow me to apologize.”
Snap!
When he snapped his fingers, the clown's body swelled as if it were filling with gas.
Pffft!
And with the sound of the air rushing out, that body disappeared.
Where the clown had stood, only a sloshing liquid remained, seeping into Belgian's shadow.
“My apologies. I swear I never imagined this one was entangled in ties of favor and enmity with you.”
“It's all right. So why were you looking for me?”
“Ah, that would be because...”
Belgian clapped his hands and broke into a bright smile.
“I heard that you healed people without using divine magic, using only thread and needles.”
“...”
“That technique of stitching torn skin onto other skin! You must surely be skilled at making chimeras as well, am I wrong?”
“Mm...”
I couldn't very well deny it.
When I was studying magic, I thought it might work if I got good enough at it.
Back when I went on training in the United States in my previous life, I even learned limb transplant surgery, so I know the rough method.
Of course, I never once thought about actually trying it.
I didn't want to end up with some “Yulian big brother... let's play...” sort of mess.
But Belgian seemed to take my silence as confirmation.
“So I would like to make you an offer. How about joining me? It's embarrassing to admit, but my knowledge of black magic is self-taught. If my army and your chimera techniques were combined, conquering this cesspit would be no trouble at all.”
“I refuse.”
It was an offer not even worth hearing out.
Why on earth would I need to join hands with that show-off?
I don't have a hobby of boarding a sinking ship.
I haven't read the original, so I don't know, but I could tell even without looking that that black mage was destined to fall.
There's no way a guy who plays around like that with people is going to end well.
Above all, I'm the protagonist.
I had zero reason to join forces with a villain.
“I'll say it as many times as it takes. I'm not interested, Mr. Belgian.”
“Hmm. Was my offer lacking? Then I'll add more conditions.”
He extended the hand not holding his staff toward me.
“If I come to dominate Sector H, I will supply you with research materials on a regular basis. There were some fools in Sector H who dared to rebel against my rule. I'll hand their surviving relatives over to you.”
“... Do you perhaps have children too?”
“Oh, do you need them? I can prepare as many as you want. There are plenty of little ones in this place who do nothing but eat up food.”
At his words, Eri's shoulders twitched.
With Belgian's answer, and Eri's reaction, I could make my decision.
‘Belgian. You and I cannot work together.’
People say murder isn't a disqualifier for an ally in web novels these days, but that doesn't mean you can go after someone's family.
No matter how you look at it, that was something I couldn't launder away.
“I'm sorry.”
As I said that, I quietly slipped a silver bullet into Otto's hand.
I could shoot it myself, but my opponent was a Tier 2 superhuman.
Otto would be a much better shot than I was.
I had no worries that it might not work on a superhuman.
After all, this bullet was famous enough to have been used in the old assassination of a count.
But Belgian, still completely unaware that I had already made my decision, clung to me like a wet rag.
“Why is that? Aren't you also someone whose goal is to get revenge on the people above you?”
“Why do you think that?”
“You don't have to hide it. You and I are in the same situation.”
Belgian took off his mask.
The porcelain covering his right face and forehead disappeared, and beneath it was a face distorted by burns.
“I've been framed just like you. There was even a time when I thought that if I did well, my father would acknowledge me as his son. I ground myself down to the bone for that. But look at me now.”
He moved his right jaw, where the flesh had been stripped away and the bone stood exposed.
Then he pointed to his own forehead.
“Look! This glorious curse! The old men of the family called me a stain and branded me with a filthy mark. You must have a wound like mine too, don't you?”
“...”
Now I understood.
He hadn't come looking for me simply because he coveted my skills.
He had come after hearing the rumors about me spreading around the Limbo Pit.
Something about a healer active in the upper district who failed to heal at a duke's mansion....
That kind of rumor.
“Tell me which family you wish revenge on. Once I finish my revenge, I'll help you with yours next. Just say the word. The Rothmund family? The Eisenbein family? Or perhaps the Order?”
He held out his hand again.
Desperation seemed to seep from his hand.
“Please, don't brush aside this hand. I'm naturally a warm-hearted man, and I simply can't leave people like you behind.”
“...”
I was starting to get tired of listening.
I like misunderstanding stories, but the problem was that even the villains were misunderstanding me.
That wasn't the kind of misunderstanding I wanted to exploit, so I reached for Belgian's mask to clear things up.
Quietly, I raised my hand and undid the chin strap of the mask.
Realizing that I was about to take off my mask, Belgian bloomed with delight, even a faint flush spreading across his face.
“Yes! That's it!”
Boss's gaze also locked onto my face in turn.
He usually kept his distance from me each time, saying he didn't need to know my identity, but it seemed he had been curious after all.
In the eyes of everyone, I took off my mask.
“Sorry, but... I never once confirmed any of those rumors.”
Clack.
The bird-beak mask fell away from my face.
Under the red lantern's light, my bare face was revealed.
No mark of a monster, no rotting skin, no hideous scars.
Just an utterly normal face, one that was even pale enough to look clean.
At the sight of it, Belgian's expression froze in an instant.
Chirp, chirp.
Only the crickets in the cesspit filled the alley.
I was the one who broke that awkward silence.
“Cough...!”
Damn it.
The moment I take off the mask, I start coughing.
As expected, the air in the lower district is far too filthy.
Only after hearing that cough did Boss let out a dry laugh.
“Ha.... Sir. You lived while hiding that face?”
“What's wrong with my face?”
“With a face like that, you could go in as the live-in son-in-law of any noble house and live in luxury for the rest of your life. Why on earth did you come all the way down to this cesspit just to hide it? No, wait. With a face like that in a brothel, you'd have to wear a mask, wouldn't you?”
Eri, who had been hiding behind Boss's back, poked her head out too.
“Yeah. I also never understood why you wore a mask every time you went out.”
“Kid, you should've known.”
“That's why it made even less sense.”
Even Otto nodded.
“...”
What the hell? What's with this mood?
Hmm. That much, huh.
After thinking for a moment, I shook my head.
‘No matter how I think about it, it isn't that much.’
Looks are half skin, after all.
And skin is half hygiene.
In a world like this, where people don't even properly soap themselves up, my skin—carefully maintained with soap every day—would naturally seem saintly.
Added to that, I was indoors almost all the time, and the mask blocked out harsh air besides.
I could at least admit that my skin was beautiful.
But saying my looks were good... well.
‘What's so great about a face that looks this gloomy?’
I could agree that it was pretty, but the rest was hard to agree with.
There were plenty of nobles in the upper district who were better-looking than me.
Even Belgian's face, half of which had belonged to a bastard-born son, was handsome enough to stand out.
“Even if you praise me that much, there's nothing I can do for you.”
“No, really. Don't you look in a mirror?”
“Eri. Enough.”
But it seemed my neat, clean appearance was, to someone, the most horrifying insult in the world.
Especially to a fallen bastard who looked as if he hadn't washed in years.
“No way...”
Belgian's lips trembled.
The eyes that had been full of camaraderie, joy, and anticipation gradually began to waver.
Soon, those eyes twisted into uncontrollable betrayal and inferiority.
“Impossible...! You... there's no way you're in the same class as me!”
Dark energy began to rise from beneath his feet.
“Did you... trick me...?”
His trembling hand gripped his staff tightly.
Mana began to swirl, making the surrounding air tremble.
“How dare you!! Deceive me by pretending to be noble, pretending to be wounded?! In the end, you're just like those idiots! You're laughing at me! Making my pain into a spectacle!!”
He raised his staff and screamed.
Hmm.
I tried to clear up a misunderstanding, and he misunderstood me in a completely different direction entirely.
Maybe with a misunderstanding story like this, it'd be better if I just didn't bother clearing things up next time.
“You fraud! I'll tear that fancy face of yours to shreds and make you a real monster!!”
KWA-A-A-ANG!
With Belgian's cry, dark mana burst out from the tip of his staff as if exploding.
He took something out from inside his robe.
It was a small glass bottle.
“Sanio et Putro! (Pus and rot!)”
I immediately listened closely to the content of the incantation.
An incantation is, in essence, a bargain with the world.
Because I understand that much of the bargain, it lets the spell activate while taking less mana from me.
In other words, if you can parse the incantation, you can predict the spell your opponent will cast to some degree.
“Morde Cuten Eos (Gnaw at their skin!)”
He hurled the glass bottle to the ground.
With a crash, a pale yellow liquid spilled from the bottle.
It looked like pus, and I could vaguely guess what spell he was trying to use.
A normal incantation usually takes about a minute, so there was still time to respond.
“It's a plague curse!”
I flipped over the bag I was holding and dumped its contents out.
I remembered there was a mask inside, though not as good as my gas mask.
Of course, since it was a Tier 2 curse, a mere mask wouldn't block it completely.
But it should be possible to lower a death curse to a painful one.
But before I could even pull out the mask, Belgian suddenly finished the incantation.
“Efflora, Morbiflos (Bloom, flower of plague!)”
I was startled and met his eyes.
He was looking at me with a slimy smile.
“Did you really think I'd give my partner time to react? What a pity. I don't underestimate you.”
Belgian staggered.
He must have been drained of a great deal of mana as the price for shortening an incantation that would normally require a full minute.
But in exchange, he could activate the spell without giving us even a moment to respond.
Black mist swallowed us.
A sweet yet nauseating smell of rot stabbed into my nose.
Only then did I put on my gas mask and shout to the others.
“Hold your breath, even if that's all you can do!”
Soon after the black mist thinned and everyone's figures were revealed,
I immediately checked the condition of the group.
“Everyone, if you feel feverish or sick anywhere, report the symptoms right away...”
“Huh? Nothing's wrong though?”
But contrary to expectations, no one was sick.
Eri sniffed the air and tilted her head, while Boss only felt around his own body and didn't mention any symptoms.
Belgian's face also twisted as he staggered from the sudden mana depletion.
“Impossible? Don't tell me it failed?”
He took out the glass bottle again, smashed it to the ground, and conjured black mist.
This time, there was no incantation.
“Kgh...”
Even while staggering under the tremendous mana strain, he stubbornly cast the spell without incantation, probably because of his pride.
Once again, mist rose and then dissipated.
“... Is that guy a fake or what?”
Eri muttered as she emerged completely unharmed.
This time, it seemed to reach Belgian's ears.
“You lowborn wench... ngh...!”
But perhaps because he'd spent all his mana, even leaning on his staff looked difficult for him.
“Impossible... why isn't it working? And why does it take so much mana...?”
Belgian, still wavering, swept his gaze across the ground.
Then his eyes fixed on the things that had rolled around on the floor from my bag.
More precisely, on one of the glass bottles among them, one that looked similar to the one Belgian had been holding.
“No way...!”
Belgian's eyes went wide.
“You had a catalyst too...?”
At that sight, just in case, I asked him a question.
“Don't tell me you used smallpox pus as a catalyst?”
Belgian's shoulders jerked.
That was essentially a yes.
Only then did I realize what kind of plague he had been trying to curse with.
‘Wait, so the curse was smallpox?’
If that was the case, it couldn't possibly work.
Because everyone here, including the people in Sector D, had already been secretly vaccinated by me.
To put it in firewood terms, it was like trying to light wet wood.
With oil already not doing much, and him even casting it without an incantation, there was no way his mana would last.
On top of that, the variable for immunity to both incantations and formulas was missing, which made the mana drain even worse once the bargain failed.
‘Damn. Of all things to use for a curse, why pick smallpox of all things...’
I thought, watching Belgian frantically check his mana.
As expected.
No matter how I think about it, luck in a misunderstanding story matters far more than a hundred days of effort.
No matter how I think about it, luck in a misunderstanding story matters far more than a hundred days of effort.