Chapter 69

Freide kept grumbling and cursing at Ferne for a while, and Calix tried to calm her down, making an effort to defend Ferne.

Though, it wasn’t really a defense… More like saying fairies are just like that, and getting mad would only hurt herself, so she should just let it go.

After exchanging some polite goodbyes, we parted ways.

Standing in front of the building entrance for too long felt a bit awkward anyway.

Before leaving, I didn’t forget to ask Asha for a new set of black iron armor. A shawl, skirt, and chestplate for the limbs too.

My old armor was completely shattered into pieces.

…And I’d just spent a fortune repairing it not too long ago.

I asked for the chestplate to only cover the chest area, not the entire torso.

If it covered the abdomen, it’d restrict my movement too much and interfere with my fighting style.

Asha said it’d cost 80 gold, so I asked if I could pay in installments over two months.

I needed to save some living expenses, after all.

Luckily, maybe because we’d gotten closer, Asha gladly agreed to a two-month, interest-free installment plan.

—

“By the way, Nigel, your armor’s pretty busted too, right? You’ll need to get that fixed.”

“Ah, I’ve already placed an order. Knights of Randenburg can get military supplies covered by public funds as long as we submit the paperwork.”

“That’s kind of enviable.”

I chatted with Nigel as we headed up to my room.

The room was spotless, as if the hired help had been maintaining it all along.

I set down the weapons I’d brought back from the hospital in the corner and immediately headed to the desk.

I’d been waiting for this moment.

I pulled out a cigarette, the first in almost a month, and lit it with trembling hands.

Then I took a deep, very deep drag.

Filling my lungs until it overflowed and spilled out.

My mind cleared as the minty smoke filled the room.

A cool, refreshing sensation spread through my veins to the tips of my fingers.

Yes, this is it.

I’ve really missed this feeling.

The room quickly filled with hazy smoke.

I opened the window to let it out and kept smoking.

Until the ashtray was full.

By the time I was halfway through the second pack, Nigel was staring at me.

With the kind of look a woman might give a man relieving himself on the street.

…Still, she didn’t say anything, which I guess was her way of being understanding.

At least the cigarettes here don’t have harmful ingredients.

If they did, I wouldn’t have had any excuse to keep smoking.

—

After that, I went to the bathroom to wash up and get ready for bed.

I hadn’t been able to properly wash while I was in the shelter.

With so many patients, they said it was hard to secure enough water for baths.

I lifted my arm and sniffed. Yeah, there was definitely a strong body odor.

I’d wiped myself down with a damp towel, but that only went so far.

The minty scent of the magic herbs I’d been smoking helped mask the smell a bit.

While waiting for the tub to fill, I tossed the disgusting hospital gown aside.

I’d been wearing it the whole time—on the carriage ride back, in front of the special ward’s entrance.

My original clothes were soaked in blood, sweat, ash, and all kinds of filth, torn to shreds and unusable even as rags.

At least I’d bought plenty of clothes last time, so I could wear those now.

It feels like every time I fight, I end up discarding my clothes…

Is this the warrior’s fate? Even clothing becomes a consumable.

I tossed the hospital gown into the laundry basket and sat on the edge of the tub for a while.

Then, suddenly, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

…Come to think of it, it’s been a month since I last looked in a mirror.

What can I say?

A woman I’d never seen before was staring back at me.

Pale, almost ghostly white skin from lack of sunlight.

Eyes wide and hollow, with dark circles from exhaustion.

Cheeks slightly sunken, making me look gaunt.

Hair limp and clinging sadly to my face.

…Who are you?

Where did the sharp-eyed warrior go?

In the mirror, all I saw was a frail, exhausted beauty looking back at me with a bewildered expression.

This is bad.

—

That night, I dreamed of Damien.

Damien, now a hero, had finally saved the world and was marrying his waiting lover in a church ceremony.

A crowd of guests was applauding them—all familiar faces.

Calix and Edgar nodded approvingly, while Asha, Freide, and Rana smiled.

Ophelia bit her handkerchief, shedding tears of frustration.

Marquis Ludwig, dressed in priestly robes, officiated the ceremony.

As Damien approached the bride, she shyly lifted her veil, blushing.

Her hair spilled out from beneath the veil.

Damn it, it wasn’t green.

Black. Yes, it was black. What a crazy dream.

“Do you, the bride and groom, swear to love each other forever in the eyes of the Lord?”

“I swear!”

Damien answered boldly.

The woman in the white dress responded shyly, parting her lips.

This is a nightmare. I need to wake up.

– BOOM!

At that moment, the church doors exploded.

“I cannot approve of this marriage!!”

…It was Knut again.

Seriously, what is this?

“I can’t approve either!!”

A booming voice echoed through the air.

With a loud crash, someone smashed through the church ceiling and landed.

It was Or-han, wearing only pants.

The three of them started fighting, tangled together.

The chaotic scene made me dizzy, and I passed out.

Even in my dream.

—

Morning came.

“……”

As soon as I woke up, I lit another cigarette.

I couldn’t hold on without smoking.

I feel like I’m going crazy. Why is this happening lately?

I’d rather have dreams about the dead.

…I think I need to figure out a clear way to deal with this.

If this keeps up, I might even dream about raising a child, and that thought gives me the creeps.

Sitting at my desk, puffing out smoke, I ponder.

Classes haven’t resumed yet, so I don’t have much else to do today.

Alright. It’s a terrible thought, but let’s assume there’s a crazy noble who’s… well, courting me.

How should I respond?

I feel like doing what Asha would do, but it’s not a sparring match, and without a good reason, it would be hard to clean up the mess afterward.

Scratching my head roughly, I continue to think.

First, let’s categorize the enemies.

Knowing your enemy and yourself ensures victory.

First, those who can be reasoned with.

In this case, a polite refusal should suffice. They’re the least troublesome if I can just bear the discomfort.

I just need to figure out what to say to refuse them.

Second, those who won’t take no for an answer and will resort to underhanded tactics. Among them, those who can be dealt with without much trouble.

Openly confronting them would be problematic, but ambushing them might work.

Clear enemies.

There are quite a few scoundrels among the Empire’s nobles.

They’re the kind that should be eliminated if you think about the future.

I said I’d protect people, but that didn’t mean protecting those kinds of people.

Third, those who resort to underhanded tactics but are too powerful to confront directly. High-ranking nobles or royalty.

It’s unlikely that someone of that stature would be obsessed with me… but just in case.

This is the most troublesome. There’s no way for me to handle it directly.

Maybe I should ask Marquis Ludwig for help…

Or perhaps, eliminate any reason for them to approach me?

This method might be quite effective, but going too far could cause problems.

If the Empire considers me uncontrollable, that would be troublesome.

It’s important to draw the line.

First, there’s nothing I can do about my appearance, so I’ll have to wait for it to recover.

Then…

I continue to ponder and plan.

After all, until I actually experience it, I won’t know what variables might arise, but it’s better to think of countermeasures in advance.

And three days later, Marquis Ludwig finally arrived.

—

Marquis Ludwig looked no different from the last time I saw him months ago.

Dressed in a dark blue uniform with a coat, even the magic cigarette in his mouth was the same.

Seeing my face, the Marquis opened his mouth in surprise and let out a low exclamation.

Don’t be amazed. It’s annoying.

Nigel saluted the Marquis respectfully, set down the refreshments he brought from the dining hall, and left.

“It’s been a while. The divine beast has… how should I put it… not exactly radiant… well, pitiful.”

He starts off with annoying remarks.

Pitiful? I never thought that word would be used to describe me.

“That’s a nasty thing to say right off the bat. I’m already worried about guys clinging to me because of it.”

“Hmm? You don’t like that kind of attention? You’ll need to find a spouse someday.”

The Marquis, sitting on the reception sofa, tapped the ash from his magic cigarette into the ashtray.

His slightly furrowed brow gave him a somewhat perplexed expression.

“Not until I’m six feet under. And even then, never.”

Even if I were six feet under, it would be the same. A spouse? Just the thought is horrifying.

Men are mentally exhausting, and after becoming like this, even women don’t stir my heart. It’s impossible from the start.

I’ve already decided to live alone forever.

“Hmm… even if the other person is of high status? Like royalty?”

Persistent. And oddly specific.

…Does this mean they’ve already started some underhanded scheme targeting me?

I felt a bit uneasy.

Please, let it not be so. If the royalty and the Marquis are in cahoots, there’s no way to handle it.

“Even if it were the Emperor, it’s the same. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me repeat myself.”

“If your resolve is that firm… well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done. Understood.”

The Marquis took another drag.

Whether he was convinced, gave up, or just brushing it off, his attitude was unclear.

“Then, let’s get to the main point.”

“Right, you said you had something to tell me about the royal family. And something else important. It’s good timing. I also had something to ask.”

“Something to ask… well, as a guest, it’s only right to answer the host’s questions first. Go ahead. If it’s something I know, I’ll answer.”

Seems considerate, but in the end, he’s making me speak first.

To the very end, his attitude is ambiguous.

Depending on my question, it seems like he might subtly change what he originally intended to tell me.

Is my suspicion excessive?

Well, it doesn’t matter. The question I wanted to ask was already decided.

So, let’s hear the answer.

“About my mother, Ai-mel-ra de Median. You knew her, right?”

Well, answer me.

Ludwig.