Chapter 109

A hangover is truly a bitch. When you drink beyond your capacity, it brings physical discomfort and sheer misery. My stomach was churning, and my head felt like it was about to split open. I gulped down hangover soup multiple times, but my stomach still burned.

Inside my skull, it felt like someone was banging a gong, and another was hammering away, threatening to crack my skull open.

But you know what’s worse than a hangover? Work. Early in the morning, a messenger bird flew in and delivered a letter from the Crown Prince. “Sorry to bother you on your day off, but the situation is urgent,” it said. Like, where do these higher-ups get off acting so apologetic? They’d happily exploit you even on weekends. What a world.

And the matter was indeed urgent. Count Holstead, whose name I’d borrowed, was in danger. According to the investigator, the Black Round Table bastards were also lurking in the area, scheming something.

Of course, I wasn’t going alone. It’s better than going solo, but… I was accompanied by the hopeless trio of sisters.

“Master! What’s the specialty of the Holstead territory? I’m looking forward to trying it.”

Airi Res, usually sweet and cheerful, but if you push the wrong button, she’ll unleash a torrent of curses and magic.

“The specialty of the Holstead territory is ore… but if you want to shove iron ore into your mouth, go ahead.”

Glacia Winterheart, who strangely has a bad relationship with Airi and is quick to draw her sword when provoked.

“Sigh… Why did you bring Werner? Who told you to bring women on official business?”

Lorcha McCallin, who’s always looking for an angle to dropkick me. She probably doesn’t even realize why Werner dumped her.

And then there’s the carriage. This damn thing is worse than work or a hangover. Stuck in a confined space, enduring mind-numbing conversations for days. Ah, I missed the KTX so much. My precious vacation is slipping away. Goodbye, my lovely break. Next time, I’ll enjoy you properly.

—

After a week of travel, we finally arrived at the Holstead territory in the south.

Unlike the north or the capital, the air here was hot and humid, stimulating my sweat glands. It felt like Daegu in July. Especially for someone like Glacia, who’s only lived in cold regions, this weather was brutal. She was drenched in sweat just ten minutes after stepping out of the carriage.

I took out a handkerchief and wiped her cheek.

“You didn’t have to come… I feel bad that you’re suffering because of me.”

She smiled slightly and used the same handkerchief to wipe my sweat.

“I came of my own accord, so Lord Werner doesn’t need to worry.”

“But still…”

“On the contrary, I’m happy that Lord Werner wiped my sweat.”

Glacia glanced at Airi as she spoke. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like Glacia was smirking at Airi. Nah, there’s no way Glacia would smirk like that…

Then Airi started swaying and leaned against me.

“Master, it’s so hot I think I’m going to collapse. I might have heatstroke. Please support your cute disciple.”

Yeah, heatstroke can hit anyone in this sweltering heat. Even Airi, with her warrior’s blood, isn’t immune. I held her hand and shifted her weight toward me to support her.

“Hehehe… If anyone saw us like this, they’d be so jealous. Like, say, someone who mistook a simple cheek wipe for something more…”

Glacia’s expression stiffened slightly.

“…Lord Werner, I’m also experiencing a mild headache due to this unfamiliar climate. As you know, unlike some barbaric monkeys, I don’t fake illnesses.”

Ah, Glacia’s got heatstroke too. Heatstroke can come for anyone. As the successor of Asclepius, the god of medicine, I can’t refuse them. As I supported these two beautiful women, Lorcha clicked her tongue at me.

“Tsk tsk… You’ve become quite the playboy, Werner.”

I felt wronged. I was just fulfilling my duty as the successor of the god of medicine. I haven’t done anything Zeus-level perverted yet. To slander me like this, Lorcha must really hate me.

“Lorcha, it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding, my ass. Is misunderstanding your younger sibling or something?”

Lorcha cracked a lame joke and shot me an annoyed look. I was still feeling wronged.

“Shut up and do your job. Meeting Count Holstead and getting the details is your role, Werner.”

“Why me again? Just so you know, today’s my day off! You expect me to handle noble meetings on my day off?”

“I’ve been covering for you for 12 years while you ran off. Between Tower Lord duties and Imperial Sorcerer work, how many days off do you think I’ve had in a year?”

A year has roughly 52 weeks, with Saturdays and Sundays off. But given how busy she was, taking all those days off would’ve been tough.

“Uh, about 60 days a year?”

I had no comeback.

“In 12 years, I’ve taken exactly 11 days off. So shut up and do your job.”

11 days in 12 years? That means she’s worked entire years without a single day off. How many people have suffered because of the mess Werner left behind? Passing such a shitty job to a friend, Werner deserves to be struck by lightning.

In a way, wasn’t it justice that this bastard got stabbed in the side? My side felt strangely sore today.

—

Count Holstead’s mansion was oddly cool. It was smaller than I expected for a noble’s residence, even smaller than my own mansion, and lacked a proper garden.

There were only two guest rooms, so Lorcha and I had to share one. Of course, this was because Airi and Glacia fought over who would share with me, and Lorcha, fed up, arbitrarily decided the room assignments.

“Count Holstead is calling for you.”

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

Come to think of it, I didn’t know much about Count Holstead. At most, I’d heard rumors at the ballroom that the original Count Holstead was sickly.

As I was organizing my luggage, Lorcha warned me.

“Count Holstead is one of the most capable nobles supporting the Crown Prince. Don’t try any weird jokes or wordplay; they won’t work.”

She spoke gruffly, but I could tell she was worried about me. Ah, the charm of a tsundere.

“Huh, are you worried about me as a friend? I’m touched.”

“What…? No, I’m not! Don’t get the wrong idea! I’m just worried your dirty personality will mess things up again…”

I brought my finger close to Lorcha’s lips, though I didn’t touch them.

“I won’t make any more mistakes. Not in work, and not in our relationship.”

Lorcha’s face turned red.

“Just go already, you idiot.”

With that tsundere-style encouragement, I headed to Count Holstead’s room. What kind of sickly noble would appear? Asthma? Old age? Diabetes? What illness kept him confined to this remote area instead of the capital?

I knocked lightly on the door.

“Imperial Sorcerer Werner Alten.”

“…Come in.”

The voice was weak and lifeless. I opened the door and entered, but no one was at the table. What the hell? Was I talking to a ghost?

What kind of lowly spirit dares to play tricks on me, the last disciple of Jesus?

“Not there.”

I turned my gaze away from the desk to a bed a short distance away. On the bed was a young man with blood staining his lips, wiping his mouth as he looked at me.

“Kyle Holstead. I’m sorry to call you here like this, but it’s difficult for me to go to the capital…”

Upon closer inspection, I noticed he had no legs.

“It’s fine. If anything, I’m worried we’ve caused you trouble.”

“There’s no need for Sir Werner to apologize. Please, take a seat. The matter is urgent.”

For the first time since coming to this world, I felt the aura of a noble.