Chapter 245 - Even in a Life Like This (8)

“Anyway, if you want to keep arguing, do it inside. Overusing a device that blocks voices looks suspicious, you know.”

While the Archmage fervently called upon her friend, Meister cast a pointed glance at the onlookers nearby. There weren't many, but the fact that every last one was a mage posed a problem. Mages were too clever; they might work out things the group would rather keep hidden.

“Especially in a situation like this, where it would be natural for us to be shouting.”

He had a device that absorbed voices tucked inside his clothes. Only then did Deathbringer grasp the situation and realize his mistake.

“... Let's go inside.”

“I don't know what's going on. Should I come too?”

“If you can, Warrior Boss, you should—Huh?! When did you get here?!”

“I came with the craftsman earlier.”

“If you have nothing else to do, join us.”

The Archmage had only just noticed Berserker herself and felt a little guilty, but said that nonetheless. Surely it would be rather odd to send away someone who was already here? She was one of their companions, after all.

“What do we do with this one?”

“Well...”

Leave him. That was Deathbringer's opinion.

We have to take him. Surprisingly, that was Meister's.

“That bastard's the Inquisitor who witnessed our meeting earlier. Don't you think we need to make sure he keeps his mouth shut?”

“... You hit someone in the head when you need to keep him quiet? He's definitely going to be angry when he wakes up.”

“Then would it have been right to let that conversation go on? Responding emotionally to someone who's already worked up won't get a conversation anywhere. At times like that, fists are the answer.”

“Just say you thought it over, got pissed off, and hit him. Fucking hell, and this guy's a Grand Master Craftsman.”

... They would bring him inside and tend to him first. The Archmage settled on that conclusion. Sending him back to the Temple like this would create its own problems, and she had things she wanted to say when he woke up.

Of course... first they would have to deal with the onlookers.

“Berserker, lay him down inside and look after him, please. In the meantime, I suppose I'll have to offer the people here some sort of explanation...”

“I'll come with you.”

“You should go inside... No. Come along.”

The Archmage hesitated briefly over the temper Meister had displayed, but ultimately changed her mind. Since the onlookers were mages and likely knew him, perhaps convincing them would actually be easier.

Or knowing him might make things worse.

“About what just happened...”

“Never mind. You lost your temper and hit him, I assume.”

“Well done.”

Fortunately, the former proved true. Whether because they knew Meister's temper all too well or because they disliked the Temple, everyone indicated a willingness to gloss over the incident.

Admittedly, their underlying attitude seemed closer to not wanting to get involved with Meister—perhaps not wanting to get on his bad side—whatever the truth might be.

“What sort of life have you been living, really?”

“I've been showing the people who underestimate and look down on me the greatness of physical magic.”

That explained it. The Archmage surrendered to her throbbing headache. If they were easy to persuade, surely that was a good thing. Her surrender could fairly have been called enlightenment.

“So why did you actually call for me? I'm not fond of wasting time.”

“Well, ha... There are two reasons, actually. One is that your grandfather wants to know how you're doing.”

“Ah...”

At least grandfather and grandson seemed close.

On their way back to the quarters, Meister's violet eyes darkened slightly at the mention of his grandfather. The glasses chain swaying from his red frames consisted of dozens of pieces of coral, carved, inscribed with magical formulas, and strung together like beads.

“He seems quite worried, since the suspicion of heresy prevents him from even visiting you.”

How long must it have taken to make those pieces serve as their own power sources, in consideration of a wearer with no magical energy? Feeling Blue Coral's love anew, the Archmage watched the silent young man. He seemed to have accumulated a great deal to say himself, for he struggled to speak.

“If he knows that, could you tell him to use his brain for once? Does that decrepit old geezer think the world will let him get away with acting without considering the consequences? If he was going to help, he should've been less obvious about it. Tell him that if getting fucking old has ruined his skills, he should hurry up and retire. His grandson will support him.”

Please, let him keep struggling to speak.

The Archmage pressed a hand to her chest as Meister sulked. Blue Coral, I simply don't understand. Is it fashionable among young people these days to express concern through harsh words? But if that's the point, couldn't they simply speak kindly?

“Finally back, are you?”

Through the open entrance to the quarters, two people could be seen sitting close together. Inquisitor Daniel lay neatly behind Berserker, apparently still unconscious.

“... Why have you covered his face with a white cloth?”

“It's hard to check his breathing. This also makes it easier to tell when he wakes up.”

That didn't seem to be the reason. It absolutely didn't.

It looked more as though he had covered him with a white cloth in the hope of putting him straight into a coffin.

The Archmage's eyes trembled again before she finally gave up. Her old heart had suffered enough. Now she wanted to take everything in stride and let it pass.

“So, what was the other pretext for calling me here?”

“Well... I wondered whether you might know anything about why the Demon Knight left.”

But she still had work to do. Summoning every last scrap of energy she possessed, the Archmage asked the question she most wanted answered.

“For the record, I've heard all the testimony you gave to the Temple. I ask nonetheless because... I wondered whether you might have concealed anything for fear of being branded a heretic.”

She quickly added,

“You needn't worry about being reported.”

She didn't want him to mistake this for a trap set by the Temple.

“We have plenty that would implicate us as well if we reported you.”

After all, they happened to be a group centered around the Hero. It would be disastrous if a misunderstanding cost them information they could otherwise have obtained.

“Hmm.”

Meister's eyes shifted from side to side. More precisely, he seemed to be assessing Deathbringer's and Berserker's intentions.

“For the record, they didn't know this would happen. Neither did I, for that matter. But... I don't believe you need to worry about them either. Isn't that right? I assumed you two would be quite curious about this yourselves.”

She hadn't discussed it with them beforehand, but trusted they shared her views and her questions. Deathbringer would be the most fervent believer in the Demon Knight's innocence, and Berserker... Even if Berserker had no interest in this conversation, she at least wasn't someone who would pass it on to the Temple.

“I'm certainly happy to have this conversation, but...”

Just as expected, Deathbringer nodded, albeit reluctantly. Berserker seemed curious too, judging by the fact that she hadn't walked out. She merely shrugged and said, “Don't worry about word getting out.” Her conduct lent that assurance considerable credibility.

“Well, fine. If everyone's on the same page, I don't mind... But putting that aside, were you all investigating separately without sharing information?”

Yet, rather deflating the Archmage's confidence, Meister folded his arms with an indifferent expression. Without sharing information. The words pricked at her conscience.

“We haven't had time to share information... Is that a problem?”

“Not a problem, exactly.”

He said it wasn't a problem, but his attitude suggested otherwise. The Archmage blinked as Meister leaned back.

“Anyway, if that's why you called me here, get the rest from him. I've already told him everything I have to say.”

“Ah, the two of you have already spoken?”

Fortunately, the explanation that followed enlightened and reassured her. So that was it: those two had apparently spoken before she could arrange a meeting.

“How surprising... I'd wondered, but to think it was true.”

“Then can I go? He seems perfectly capable of keeping our man quiet.”

“You're leaving after beating someone up? Are you kidding me?”

“Why? Shouldn't you be thanking me instead? If that argument had gone on, you'd have been the only one to lose out.”

“No, but...”

But how had Meister come to learn why the Demon Knight had stopped enduring it? The Archmage gently inserted herself into the argument threatening to erupt anew, with only the participants changed.

“How did you learn it? The reason the Demon Knight decided to endure no more?”

“What?”

Each held different puzzle pieces, and the gap between them brought a moment of confusion.

“So... you're saying the Demon Knight has no memories?”

“That's my guess. Only that sly bastard knows for sure.”

Meister pondered the words his grandfather had relayed through the Archmage. True to a Great Sage's words, they were artfully ambiguous and offered far too much to think about.

“The right.”

That phrase troubled him most. Not a question of morality, but of having the right? Everything his grandfather had listed before it seemed plainly directed at sacrificing the few for the many. If that wasn't discussing ethics, what on earth was it?

... And if his grandfather, who brushed off even Lords and Archbishops with a scoff, was talking about having the right, just how profound and weighty was the significance that man carried?

“In my entire life, I've never seen Grandfather back down because he didn't have the right.”

His grandfather wasn't a mage who used abstractions like that as excuses. If something was possible, it was possible; if not, then not. Only his position and circumstances determined that. He had never presumed to excuse himself by claiming he lacked the right.

“... I agree. You know Blue Coral better as he is now, of course... But the friend I knew in the past never spoke of having the right either.”

Yet he had spoken of it. Ultimately, that must mean there was nothing else he could say.

Meister focused on that.

“This rather hurts my pride.”

The man who had claimed it was a whim when he rescued him from that prison had helped someone he'd never met, then talked about having the right? Just what did the Demon Knight possess?

Now he was curious. Not a little, but a great deal. A very great deal.

“Wh-why, all of a sudden?”

“Grandfather picked a fight with me.”

“How, exactly?”

Considering that he would shut his mouth after saying something so ambiguous, what else could it be but picking a fight? It wasn't as though he didn't know that mages went mad over things hidden like this.

“I have to take him up on a challenge like this.”

“I can't begin to understand how your thought process took that leap.”

No, this wouldn't do. He'd meant to learn just enough and leave it at that, but now he'd have to investigate further. As a seeker of truth, he absolutely couldn't let this pass.

“Do you understand him, Mage Boss?”

“More or less...?”

“Bloody hell. So I don't get it because I'm not a mage?”

“Don't worry. That isn't typical behavior.”

TAP TAP TAP.

Drumming his fingers on his knee, Meister shifted the subject of his thoughts. What he really wanted to know was the man's standing, but he lacked the ability or clues to discern it for now, so he would first dig up information elsewhere.

“It hasn't arrived yet, has it?”

For instance, this.

“What hasn't?”

“The information we just bought.”

“Not yet, no?”

“Tsk.”

He turned his attention to the second clue his grandfather had offered: “He decided to endure no more.” As the only person present who had any sense of the extent of the Demon Knight's missing memories, his scrutiny was all the more persistent and keen.

“The wager.”

“What?”

First, the cause of the lost memories. What if the wager was responsible?

He revisited the hypothesis he'd formed during their conversation on the night before the Demon Knight escaped. Frankly, it was the only plausible explanation for the Demon Knight's memory loss.

“But...”

“Hey, stop muttering to yourself. No, if you're going to mutter, say everything instead of leaving out all the important parts.”

But if the wager had caused his memory loss, why had a simple review of his past deeds led him to decide he would “endure no more”? Those vanished memories would have taken the emotions of the time with them. Reading a few lines of prose shouldn't immediately provoke such a violent reaction.

The hypothesis that learning his unknown past had restored his memories didn't seem like the answer either. Something sacrificed as the price of a wager was unlikely to return so easily.

So, in the end, there was something.

There had to be something.

Something that had left his grandfather no choice but to speak of having the right.

Something that had freed the memoryless Demon Knight from having to endure any longer.

“Maybe knowing the Demon Knight's history will give us an answer...”

“Let us in on it too, will you?”

“Why pester me when the Archmage is right there?”

“Because you have more information?”

The Archmage herself hadn't demanded that Meister tell her anything, so why was this intellectually deficient fellow making a fuss? Was he leaning on others because he knew his own brain wasn't up to the task? What a nasty disposition.

Meister judged Deathbringer's character while conveniently overlooking his own refusal to speak. It never occurred to him that anyone watching would consider them much the same.

“So, the Demon Knight has no memories?”

At that moment, the one who had remained silent until now spoke indifferently. Sitting in a position that concealed the prone Inquisitor, she seemed rather disappointed that she couldn't lean against the tent. Her hands rested on the ground to support her body. Or so it appeared. What her hidden hand was really doing was impossible to tell.

“That's his opinion, yes.”

“And we don't know why he has no memories?”

“We've heard nothing, so I'm afraid not.”

“Then what if he hasn't lost his memories, but was pretending he had?”

“What...?”

“You and I both know the Demon Knight isn't someone who would escape on a flimsy pretext. That's why we're assuming he must have had a sufficiently compelling reason.”

“... What of it?”

“What if there were no such circumstances?”

Yet unlike her languid demeanor, her words were razor-sharp.

“If everything we've seen really was a lie, and he left simply to save his own life, what would you do then?”

The possibility they had adamantly denied and desperately looked away from was back on the table.

Is It a Problem If the Protagonist Is a Roleplay Fanatic? (Serial)

Author │ Hae Inseol

Publisher │ Kim Juhyeong

Published by │ Jple Media Co., Ltd.

Marketing │ Han Jaehyeok

Address │ Suite 1101, 11, Digital-ro 33-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, Ace Techno Tower 8, 11th Floor)

Email │ [email protected]

Website │ http://blog.naver.com/jayplemedia1

ⓒHae Inseol 2022

※ This work is published by Jple Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder. No part of its contents may be used in any form or by any means without the permission of the company and the author. Violations may result in criminal and civil liability.