Chapter 263 - If It Exists (1)

“Are we finally leaving?”

They had never stayed so long in any other city during their journey, yet all they had to show for it were devastating memories. So Deathbringer brightened the moment he heard they would be leaving Bemurhen.

“Most likely. We have no reason to remain any longer.”

Strictly speaking, their reasons to remain had not entirely disappeared. A city that had been blown away could hardly have been restored in a mere few months. The wounds left by this catastrophe would take at least a decade to heal completely.

“The people at the castle will not object, either.”

“As they shouldn’t. After everything we’ve done for them...”

Still, even if the city had not fully recovered, it was past the point where their departure would bring everything crashing down. It would no longer even be precarious if they withdrew their help. Reinforcements from several cities were staying here, and restoration was proceeding in earnest. Wasn’t that enough?

That was the thinking behind Deathbringer’s disgruntled snort. The fact that his own contribution to “everything we’ve done” was not particularly large hardly mattered.

At the very least, the Inquisitor had devoted enough to this place to earn the right to say it, and as her companion, he was entitled to complain on her behalf.

“... Are we really taking him along?”

Likewise, a little grumbling that stopped short of outright refusal ought to be permissible. It would be another matter if his opposition grew fierce enough to stake his life on, or escalated to sabotage.

“He wishes to come, and his diocese has given its permission. What else can we do?”

“Tch...”

Wasn’t there a saying that a priest who disliked the Temple should leave? But if leaving was not an option, one simply had to accept it. In the end, Deathbringer accepted Daniel’s addition to the party.

“... I know you do not get along, but try not to be too harsh. Even if it were not him, we would inevitably have had to recruit someone.”

That was true enough. With the Demon Knight and Berserker gone—the twin pillars of their fighting strength—they needed replacements. All the more so considering that, aside from their tremendous power, both had been close-range fighters.

They needed combatants now. Specifically, combatants who could handle close quarters.

“I know that much.”

In that respect, having Daniel along could do no harm. Even if he could not perform as well as the two who had left, an experienced Inquisitor would at least meet their minimum expectations.

“I just... don’t like that it had to be him, of all people.”

But feelings were not so easily set aside just because something was necessary. Deathbringer scrubbed at his hair and sprang to his feet.

Knowing he did not mean he could not accept the decision, the Archmage merely shrugged.

“Where are you going?”

“To get things ready before we leave.”

Nothing that could be called a market had opened yet, but there were plenty of ways to obtain supplies. Even if he could not prepare as thoroughly as in other cities, it would be better than doing nothing.

“And I hear Softie’s been feeling pretty melancholy...”

Besides, there was someone he needed to see—or rather, check on. Familiar with his manner of speaking, the Archmage lowered the corners of her eyes.

“... I only wish she would tell us what is troubling her.”

Deathbringer narrowed his eyes in displeasure at her agreement. It was by no means a look of reproach toward the Archmage. Merely recalling the state Softie had been in lately had brought it to his face.

His tail twitched irritably against his cloak and thigh.

“... It’s probably the divine oracle.”

“So it is that, after all...”

It was obvious what troubled Softie. Was there truly no way to save the Demon Knight? How should she interpret the divine oracle? Little else could have given someone so straightforward such cause for anguish.

“Anyway, I’m really going now.”

Yet precisely because she was used to finding clear-cut answers, this dilemma would be all the harder to bear. Even he, accustomed to setbacks and frustration, found it this difficult. How much worse must it be for her, facing her first defeat and failure?

[“If the divine oracle truly refers to him, and the correct interpretation is that I must kill him... must I really do it?”]

No, perhaps... it was not because this was her first failure...

[“With the life he saved? With these limbs that remain whole because of him—kill him?”]

Deathbringer lowered his eyelids, his breath catching painfully.

Softie had not actually expected an answer from him when she said that. Unable to bring himself to answer, he had pretended not to hear and let the question pass... but thinking back on it now, it was terribly cruel.

He could simply reproach her, asking how she could do such a thing, or accuse her of repaying kindness with betrayal. But Softie was not even in a position to do that.

“... Fuck.”

The faith she had upheld all her life, or the brief yet powerful bond she had forged—even if that connection was one-sided?

He had little devotion to any god, so between the two, he would always choose the latter. But put Emit in God’s place, and it became a different story. He would agonize every bit as fiercely as she did.

And whichever he chose... he would probably regret it bitterly. Emit and the Boss both meant so much to him. The moment he abandoned either one, he could never go back to who he had been before.

“Damn it.”

So Deathbringer said nothing about the Inquisitor’s inability to choose either path. She was suffering enough, and if he could not ease that suffering, he had no right to carelessly add his own words.

Having made it outside the tent, he sank down again and cradled his head in both hands.

It was an unbearably painful day.

* * *

“My, you’ve got a healthy appetite, young man! Want another bowl?”

At the innkeeper’s sudden approach and laughing exclamation, I lowered the spoonful of soup I had been lifting.

SMACK! SMACK!

Something about the way she approached had given me a bad feeling, and sure enough, my suspicion proved correct. Her thick hand whacked me across the back.

“It does me good to see someone enjoy their food.”

“Ha ha ha...”

I was not particularly fond of unsolicited physical contact—especially the kind people took it upon themselves to use as a show of friendliness when we barely knew each other—but I simply gave an awkward laugh and let it pass. In this exceedingly rough-and-ready era, objecting to a few slaps on the back would only get me called oversensitive. Though, to be fair, things were still much the same in the modern world.

More than anything, I was actually rather pleased by the very fact that someone could hit me so casually. Not because I wanted to be hit, but because it made it strikingly clear that people were no longer so afraid of me that they could not take liberties.

At this rate, at least I would not arouse suspicion by failing to fit in. The hitting itself might make me uncomfortable, but with a benefit this substantial, it was nothing I couldn’t endure.

SMACK! SMACK!

“Have some more, have some mo—!”

“W-wai— Urgh.”

I could endure it, but I could not stop my debuff-riddled body from coughing up blood after a few blows to the back.

As blood spilled from my mouth, the innkeeper blinked several times.

“Aaaah! Young man, are you all right?!”

“I-I’m fine.”

I knew the debuffs were severe, but come on. Wasn’t coughing up blood after seven hearty slaps on the back from a civilian a little excessive?

Swallowing a stream of complaints, I fumbled with my handkerchief to wipe away the blood. The innkeeper, pale with fright, brought me a cloth, which let me clean up a little more thoroughly.

“Y-you haven’t caught some illness, have you...?”

“Nothing like that. I’ve simply had a frail constitution since birth...”

Naturally, I carefully cleaned the blood off the table, too. I wasn’t sure whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that none had gotten into my food. If I ate it again, I might at least recover some of the iron.

“Oh, you poor thing...”

In any case, I had avoided being mistaken for someone carrying a disease. Delighted by that fact—and I had every reason to be, since being mistaken for a carrier of a contagious disease could easily get me expelled from the city—I resumed my meal.

The innkeeper no longer disturbed me, either, so I could wield my spoon in peace.

“Would you like a little of this, too?”

“Oh, I’d be grateful.”

In exchange, perhaps, a little pity and charity were added later. It stirred some complicated feelings, but if I had to categorize it, it was not a bad thing.

I gratefully accepted the newly offered potato salad and shoveled it into my mouth. Mashed potatoes mixed with corn kernels and seasoned with nothing but salt made a surprisingly decent palate cleanser.

“Hey, bookworm. Can you even travel in that state, coughing up blood like that?”

Just as I was nearly done, however, I acquired some new company: a swaggering group of adventurers.

“I am capable of taking care of myself...”

I gave the three adventurers a noncommittal smile. I could neither explain that I was strong nor admit that I was weak, so I had chosen a third response.

After all, pretending not to carry a sword to avoid any connection with the Demon Knight hardly meant my existing strength had evaporated. Nor had using Disguise weakened me so much that I couldn’t subdue a cat.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Don’t you need an escort or something?”

But these people did not know that. Their ignorance was precisely why they were acting this way.

How unfortunate.

“I wonder.”

I adjusted the glasses resting on the bridge of my nose and watched their antics.

Flies like these had never swarmed around me while I was playing the Demon Knight. Apparently, disguising myself as an ordinary, unintimidating person could work a little too well. It was funny, in a depressing sort of way.

“I haven’t needed one so far.”

That aside, what would be the best way to navigate this situation? I tapped the table, considering how to coax them into leaving.

“Just because you haven’t needed one yet doesn’t mean you won’t in the future. So, how about hiring us? Say yes, and we’ll make a special exception and do it for half price.”

“Yeah. You don’t get a chance like this every day.”

“And if you don’t have cash, we take payment in goods, too! Earrings or glasses, for example.”

As they spoke, one of the adventurers swaggering through the negotiation moved to sit across from me.

I never said you could join me. More to the point, do you have some condition that makes your ears work selectively? The words that nearly slipped out were quite unlike my usual self.

“Come on, huh? We’ll do it for half pri—”

Ah, I really had been playing a foul-tempered character for too long. Snappish remarks were becoming a reflex. If I kept this up much longer, I might start lashing out with my feet, too.

WHAM!

“Aaagh!”

“B-boss!”

Yet the moment that thought crossed my mind, the table I was sitting at flipped toward the man opposite me. As a bonus, all the dishes on it flew into the air and crashed over him.

The flying food—mashed potatoes—and airborne wooden bowls seemed to move slowly across my vision.

... What? I hadn’t kicked anything. I really hadn’t. I hadn’t used my hands, either. Could I now flip tables through the power of imagination alone? Was that it?!

“Truly astonishing. It cannot be easy for a living thing to be so vulgar and filthy.”

Mercifully, neither my feet nor my instincts were responsible for overturning the table. Aquamarine hair—no, a clearer shade of Tiffany blue—drifted softly through the air.

“I commend you. You rank among the three filthiest things I have ever seen.”

It was like watching emeralds transformed into swaying skeins of thread.

“Who the hell are y—”

“Innkeeper.”

The person who had overturned the table on my behalf ignored the adventurers springing angrily to their feet and turned away. Snow-white hems fluttered with the motion.

The outfit had no skirt to make it a dress and too much ornamentation to call it a uniform. It was certainly nothing an ordinary person would wear. A noble, most likely; at the very least, someone with comparable wealth.

“I will compensate you. Take the money.”

The casual toss of a coin to the innkeeper told the same story. Someone who could part with silver so readily was, at the very least, no ordinary person struggling to make ends meet.

“Th-thank you. If you’ll wait a moment for your change...”

“Unnecessary.”

“Y-yes.”

The question, though, was why this person had helped me...

I quietly studied my rescuer, who had not said a word to me. Noticing my gaze, the stranger turned to look at me, too.

Set in a face so pale it seemed never to have worked beneath the sun were eyes of an elusive blue-green, like fractured thin ice, or an emerald whose cleavages made the light pass strangely through it.

“Um, thank you.”

But curiosity was one thing, and gratitude another.

Before speculating on what had prompted the intervention, I hastily bowed my head. My rescuer, wearing a smile as lovely as a porcelain doll’s and just as devoid of warmth, turned away again.

“There is no need for thanks. I did not do it to help you.”

Whether it was a decorative touch or something she had been born with, a black streak among her blue-curaçao-colored bangs swayed with the movement of her head.

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

Author │ Haeinseol

Publisher │ Kim Juhyeong

Published by │ Jple Media Co., Ltd.

Marketing │ Han Jaehyeok

Address │ Suite 204, 288 Digital-ro, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, Daeryung Post Tower 1)

Email │ [email protected]

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

ⓒ Haeinseol 2022

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