Chapter 72

Originally, when attending a housewarming, it’s an unspoken rule to bring a roll of toilet paper. But unfortunately, I don’t have such a thing in my hands right now. The only things I brought from the north are the robe I’m wearing, some simple clothes, and the women who brought me here. I pondered what to give as a housewarming gift. In times like these, what would the ancient sages have done? As I was thinking, the best book for teaching boys energy manipulation, Dragon Ball, suddenly came to mind.

After launching a pillar and flying 2300 km, the great senior said this: If a hitman has no money, they pay the price by killing someone. It’s time to return as the ruthless City Hunter and Ninja Assassin.

“Brother, is there anyone you want to kill lately?”

“Why are you suddenly asking that?”

“Housewarming gift.”

“Stop saying creepy things. I don’t have anyone I want to kill.”

Well, if that’s the case… The great senior would say that when someone refuses an offer, they pay the hitman’s price by killing the person. But I didn’t want to kill Ricardo. Killing an innocent person out of the blue is something only a eunuch’s grandson would do, not a gentleman. In honor of Yuhwangsook, who opposed that eunuch’s grandson, I wanted to give Ricardo a housewarming gift in a different way.

“But I still want to give a housewarming gift. Is there anything you want? I’ll go buy it for you.”

Then I can pay the shop owner in the hitman’s way. See, Jo Ga, this is the way of a gentleman. Not the inhumane and heinous methods like the Xuzhou Massacre, but a highly gentlemanly and peaceful way. Watch this rationality from hell.

“Hey, forget about the gift. Just get some good sleep and focus on preparing to go to the imperial palace tomorrow.”

If the gift is refused, then so be it. Any kindness, if forced, becomes another evil. The moment I do that, I become Jo Ga. Infinite gratitude to Ricardo’s shining personality for keeping me from walking the path of Jo Ga.

At that moment, a woman’s voice came from behind.

“Oh, are you Lord Werner that Ricardo mentioned?”

“Yes, I am Werner…”

Turning my head, I saw a woman who was neither a beauty nor an ugly woman. Well, to be precise, she was closer to being a beauty, but she had the kind of ordinary appearance that would appear as Flower Shop Girl 1 in an RPG game. Her only distinctive feature was her slightly reddish hair, like autumn leaves.

She was holding children with the same silver hair as Ricardo. Ricardo chuckled and introduced his wife and children to me.

“Ah, this is my wife Flora and my children. Their names are still… under consideration.”

Flora bowed her head in greeting, and I did the same.

“You’ll have to give them pretty names soon. Would you like to suggest some ideas, Lord Werner?”

“I humbly decline. It’s best for parents to name their children…”

And I’m not good at coming up with nicknames either. My name in my previous life was Li Bai Snake. I just named myself that because my number was 204. There were many other good Chinese characters, but I was too lazy and just used “white” and “snake.” If someone as uncreative as me were to name a child, it would surely hurt them.

Just looking at the list of name change applicants gives you an idea of how much people suffer from strange names. Can you imagine how painful life would be with names like Choi Gundam or Jojojo?

“Well, Flora, it’s not about who names the child, but the meaning behind the name.”

Perhaps because Werner, an orphan, was nearby, he seemed to modify his words. Honestly, there’s no need to be so sensitive. It’s not like I’d be hurt by such words, and I hate it when people around me try to be overly cautious. Honestly, it’s right for parents to name their children, and there’s no need to hide the truth just because I’m here.

Didn’t the French truth-teller Hubert Beuve-Méry say? Speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Speak foolish truths foolishly, speak unpleasant truths unpleasantly, and speak sad truths sadly. So there’s no need to hide the truth just because I’m here.

“Ah, it’s almost dinner time. You must be tired from the journey, so I’ll have the meal sent to your room. Eat inside.”

Honestly, following noble etiquette, worrying about which fork and knife to use in a large dining hall is uncomfortable. Honestly, meals should be eaten comfortably. If you’re still worrying about which knife or fork to use, is that even a meal? Traditionally, meals should be eaten heartily with a spoon. A noble yet comfortable meal is like NTR pure love—it’s inherently contradictory.

“Ah, now that you mention it, I am tired.”

Glacia, Camellia, and Airi had already returned to their rooms. I also wanted to go back and relieve some fatigue. No matter how comfortable the Simmons carriage was, the fatigue of being confined in a small space for a long time is no light burden.

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Lying on the lodging bed, I thought about various things. Everything I’ve felt since coming to this idiotic and uncomfortable game world. Is this really a game world? The world itself feels too realistic to be a game. It’s strange to say that a world with magic feels realistic.

How should I put it? The air, the atmosphere—there’s no artificial scent at all. Well, this is just a feeling, but still.

At that moment, a servant knocked on the door from outside.

“Lord Werner, I’ve brought your meal.”

“Ah, come in.”

The servant wheeled in a serving cart and laid out the food on the table in the room.

Then the servant opened the food cover, and a fragrant aroma rose. But there was a familiar smell mixed in. The servant began to introduce the dishes to me.

“First, the main course is roasted mutton. It has a strong flavor, so we used a strong sauce and plenty of spices. The soup is bouillabaisse with lots of spices…”

“Hey, let’s not do such obvious acting between pros. You should at least try to hide it a bit.”

“Huh? What do you mean…”

I cut a piece of mutton with a knife and scooped some bouillabaisse with a spoon, taking a clam and some broth.

“Here, why don’t you try eating both at the same time?”

“Haha, if you’re worried about poison, the spoon is silver, so…”

“I know. But I’m telling you to eat both ‘at the same time,’ you idiot.”

“…I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“It’s that thing, you know. Combination poison—separately, they’re not poisonous, but when mixed, they become poison.”

Who the hell thinks I’m an amateur in this field? The combination of the dishes itself was suspicious from the start.

“How did you figure it out?”

When the servant revealed his forehead, the emblem of the Black Round Table appeared. Did this idiot really hide that on his forehead? If Ricardo saw it, he’d smash his head in immediately.

“You idiot. Mutton, damn it, that’s adult lamb. It’s a meat with a strong gamey smell, so you need a strong sauce. But if you’re serving that, the soup should be light. Bouillabaisse with a ton of spices? Are you kidding me? I thought you were outright telling me you were going to poison me.”

“But how did you know it was combination poison…”

“Even if you try to mask it with strong sauce and spices, the smell of seafood gives it away. You guys have no cooking knowledge, and your poison-making skills are crap. Did the Black Round Table only recruit idiots with shit for brains?”

“Do not insult them.”

Insult is a cheat card used by black sorcerers when their field stamina is 1, 2, 3, or 4.

“Ah, I’m hungry, but you’ve ruined my appetite. Hey, I’ll let you go if you tell me where your bosses are. Otherwise, I’ll just break your limbs…”

Before I could finish, the bastard suddenly swung a hidden dagger at me. So this guy is more skilled in fighting than poisoning, huh? His knife skills are quite impressive.

“Ooh, nice knife skills. Let’s open a sushi restaurant together.”

The guy ignored my business proposal and kept swinging his dagger. Ignoring my business proposal—businesses are the heart of democracy. To ignore it and resort to violence…

This bastard is clearly a communist. The communists from the north who try to destroy democracy with violence. The real evil communists aren’t the Winterheart family but these Black Round Table bastards. Bad habits die hard, huh? Trying to destroy democracy even in another world…

I am the torchbearer of anti-communism, the protector of democracy. I can’t let these bastards live.

Thud!

My fist struck the guy’s lower abdomen.

“Ugh!”

Even though I hit a vital spot, he only vomited and didn’t faint. Typical of communist special agents. You must have some belief that you’re fighting for your country. But objectively, it’s just violence.

“Oh, you can take that hit? You must be fun to beat up.”

You don’t need magic to deal with communists. All you need is these strong limbs.