Chapter 59
In a warehouse somewhere in Southdoll Port, a man awoke behind a haphazard stack of wooden crates.
The man was just shy of thirty, of average height and build. His brick-red hair was tousled messily, falling over his eyes.
He wore the high-collared clothes favored by scholars, but they were worn all over, giving him the unmistakable appearance of an unsuccessful scholar.
The man rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he remembered sneaking into the warehouse to escape the chill of the north wind and falling asleep there.
(Ahh, that was a good sleep... Maybe I overslept a little...)
He sat up and rolled his shoulders lightly when he heard voices from the other side of the crates. Apparently, four or five young men were talking intently about something.
Since it would be awkward if this was the owner's warehouse, the man quietly watched from behind the crates without making a sound.
"Mr. Sloth, here's the stuff."
"Oh? This is quite high quality. The aroma's different."
"Heh heh, with this, you'll be flying to the goddess's paradise in one hit."
Saying this, the men exchanged a suspicious-looking paper packet.
The packet contained what looked like dried grass. From their conversation, it was obvious what it was.
The man had only just woken up, but his face went rigid.
(Whaaaat, could this be one of those transactions I'm not supposed to see...?)
Apparently, the man in charge was a fellow called Sloth, a man in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair. He wore flashy clothes and decorations all over his body. They were probably all magical tools.
The others looked like thugs at a glance. They seemed to be former soldiers.
There was one young woman among them, however. She wore a fur cape, and her pale blond hair was cut straight at her chin. Since two fine pistols hung from her waist, she was probably a mercenary.
(Eek, scary...)
He decided it would be best to stay hidden and wait for them to leave. As he watched, Sloth put the paper packet he had received into his luggage bag. At that moment, he caught sight of something glinting inside it.
(Th-that... could it be...?)
It was a black jewel box small enough to fit in his palm. Studded with jewels of various sizes and decorated with delicate goldwork, the beautiful box looked remarkably similar to the one the man had kept in his breast pocket until just before falling asleep.
The man hurriedly thrust a hand into his breast pocket. As expected, the jewel box that should have been there was gone.
(No, no, no wayyyy!)
While the man was turning pale behind the crates, one of the thugs asked Sloth a question.
"Oh? Mr. Sloth, what's that pretty box? Is it another one of those magical tools you're so proud of?"
"Oh, I took this from the corpse lying over there. Who'd expect someone dressed that shabbily to have something this nice..."
"That's mine—!"
He shouted without thinking, then hastily clapped a hand over his mouth... but it was already too late.
By the time he realized it, the female mercenary with two pistols had pointed her gun at him.
With a frightened gasp, he squeezed out a trembling voice.
"Um, I'm not a corpse, so... I'd be really happy if you could give me that box back..."
At the man's desperate plea, Sloth grinned, showing his nicotine-stained teeth.
"What, you were sleeping without moving a muscle in a place like this, so I thought you were a homeless vagrant who'd collapsed."
"...You'll give the box back?"
He tried tilting his head cutely and looking up at Sloth, but there was no way a man nearing thirty could make that look adorable.
Sloth guffawed and pulled the jewel box out of his luggage bag, holding it up for the man to see.
"Hey, hey, this is something I found. Do you have any proof it's yours?"
"I-I didn't write my name on it... but... please give it back... It's important to me..."
"Oh? Someone carrying such a fine thing must be a young master from some prestigious family... Bet you've grown up without suffering a day in your life, huh? I hate spoiled rich brats who've never known hardship. Seeing one makes me want to drug him up and sell him off."
"W-what's a spoiled rich brat? I'm just Theodore. Please give it back..."
Sloth narrowed his eyes lecherously and walked over.
Then, with a large hand covered in rings, he thumped Theodore on the shoulder several times.
"All right, Theodore. How about this? From now on, you'll work at one of the shops under my control. Work your fingers to the bone, save up some money, and I'll give you this box back."
Theodore looked up at Sloth timidly.
"Y-you really will give it back if I do as you say?"
"What did you call me—'you'? Looks like the young master needs to learn how to speak properly before anything else!"
Theodore trembled, tears welling in his eyes at Sloth's deliberately booming voice.
Satisfied by Theodore's reaction, Sloth laughed and gave an order to the female mercenary standing nearby.
"Hey, Veronica. You said Dayan's shop was short on hands, right? Dump him there."
"Got it... Come with me."
The female mercenary called Veronica grabbed Theodore by the scruff of his collar and began walking.
Theodore was dragged away by Veronica, whimpering, "It hurts, it hurts!"
＊ ＊ ＊
In a basket in 〈Silent Witch〉's bedroom, Worgan's black dragon—or rather, Nero—awoke from hibernation.
"Nyaaahhh, ahh, I slept well, slept well."
Still in his black-cat form, Nero hopped out of the basket and deftly pushed the door open with his forepaw before heading into the hallway.
Monica was surely downstairs. I wonder if that apprentice who's so good at cooking is here today?
(If Sparkles is here, I can get a tasty meal right after waking up...)
As Nero approached the stairs, he noticed voices coming from downstairs. They weren't Monica's, and the speakers were whispering for some reason. Suspicious.
Nero crept down the stairs without making a sound and saw Isaac and Glenn by the front door.
Glenn took a paper packet from his bag and held it out to Isaac.
Glenn was known as "Loud Voice." Yet, in an uncharacteristically hushed voice, he said to Isaac:
"Chairman, this... it's the stuff."
"Oh, this is remarkably high quality. The aroma's different."
"Heh heh heh. With this, you'll be happy in one shot."
Nero was shocked. What the nya?!
(I'm witnessing the scene of a seriously shady deal...!!)
Eventually, Glenn left, and Isaac shut himself in the kitchen to start preparing a meal.
Could he really be planning to mix that incredibly suspicious stuff he had just obtained into the food?
As Nero watched Isaac from beneath the table, the front door opened. Monica had returned.
Monica was wearing an unusually fancy robe. She must have been out on a long trip. Her made-up face was deathly pale, and she looked as though she was feeling ill.
"Welcome home, Monica. You look pale. Are you all right?"
"...Ah, yes, I got a little carsick..."
"You should lie down after changing. Let's keep dinner light tonight."
Monica murmured, "I'm sorry..." and quickly withdrew to her room.
Isaac watched Monica leave with concern, then murmured, "Oh," when he spotted Nero hiding beneath the table.
"Hey, were you awake?"
"Hey, Sparkles. I saw you."
"What?"
Apparently, he intended to play dumb.
Nero jabbed a forepaw at Isaac.
"You were trading dangerous drugs with Loud Voice! You're planning to spike Monica's food with them!"
"...Drugs?"
Isaac tilted his head at Nero's words, but then he suddenly gave a quick clap and returned from the kitchen with a paper packet.
The packet contained red and black powders. An appetite-whetting aroma drifted from it...
"The Dudley family's secret spice. They brought it to me as thanks for helping them study for their exams."
"..."
"Monica doesn't like mutton, so I thought I'd use it to remove the gamey smell."
"..."
Nero lowered the forepaw he had been pointing at Isaac.
Then, as though the exchange from a few seconds earlier had never happened, he declared:
"Come to think of it, I'm hungry after waking from hibernation. Hey, Sparkles, food."
As Nero maintained his brazen attitude, Isaac put away the packet of spices and said,
"Too bad. I've decided we're having soup that's easy on the stomach tonight."
"Meat! Meat! Meat!"
"Sorry. I'm so shaken by being falsely accused that I can't get meat down my throat."
"What are you talking about!? You ate even when you were about to be executed!"
Nero continued to demand, "Meat! Meat!" while Isaac chuckled and returned to the kitchen.