I have grown accustomed to personally experiencing the truth in the saying, “Going too far is the same as not going far enough.”
Still, there is a profound sense of accomplishment in becoming the leader of an organization due to getting carried away.
That “Vessel of Radiance” really worked wonders. Without even realizing it, a wandering minstrel had composed a song about me, and as it spread throughout the lands, my proficiency began to accumulate.
I wonder if this kind of worldly fame is truly worth anything—I’m aware now that I got overly excited and missed my chance to act appropriately.
However, as I look at my character sheet with the built-up proficiency and think, “Haven’t I gotten quite strong?” all these minor issues seem trivial. System-wise, I believe I’ve reached the point where I can contribute more with a sword rather than a mace, and perhaps it’s about time I started calling myself a seasoned adventurer without drawing too much ire.
Yet, it’s not just my character sheet that has changed. Everything around me, including my relationships, has been changing rapidly.
Every morning, I wake up at the same time, finding solace in the small warmth at my chest. When I open my eyes to the weak morning light, Margit is sleeping peacefully there at my chest.
Her breathing is steady, her chest rises and falls gently, showing that she’s in a deep, peaceful slumber.
Unanticipated good fortune struck yesterday, and amidst all the competition in drinking, my childhood friend and I, who unexpectedly became “that kind of relationship,” passed out early.
I remember carrying her into the room that day; she was drinking even though she couldn’t handle alcohol and had her face all flushed. It was when I turned seventeen, and she nineteen, around the time I dragged her into adventures and we both began to seriously consider our “responsibilities.”
I’ve dragged her around beyond marriageable age, indulging my interests and involving her in a life of poverty. Margit has patiently stayed by my side all this time, and I cannot remain so irresponsible as to continue indulging in this lukewarm relationship just because it feels comfortable.
No, fundamentally, I don’t consider myself the kind of man who would irresponsibly take someone on a life-changing journey without intending to take responsibility.
How could I frivolously laugh and change someone else’s life?
So that night, when I intended to have a serious talk—
Well, several things happened. Specifically, she teasingly showed the hem of her clothes, and the repressed desires of youth burst forth in me. In other words, we “did it.”
Though I’ve long known this, the soul, despite being over fifty years old, is strongly influenced by the body. In the days when Erich was a child, decades have passed, and I could become engrossed in playing fox and goose to the point of frustration. The youthful body can overpower what should be an aging mind.
No, it might be precisely because of this that I can still harbor youthful adventurousness. In fact, people who looked young in my past life were also quite active, regardless of being from the same generation.
Although I’ve convincingly reasoned through these rationalizations, ultimately, the fact remains that Margit and I now share an intimate relationship. The first time, because it had been so long and due to structural differences between spidermen and humans, I didn’t know my limits and made her cry—terribly sorry.
Hmm, looking back, it was a harsh story. Still, the idea that a man must take responsibility when the woman invites him seems rather cruel, doesn’t it?
Regardless, after “doing it,” Margit lay resting on my abdomen, whispering with a faint, faltering voice: “Don’t overthink it; do as you please. I will always be behind you.”
It was the same gospel I heard when I was sent to this world, given now by my childhood friend, bringing up a complex joy beyond words. She was saying she would stay by my side no matter how selfish I was, until I was satisfied.
Isn’t this the ultimate satisfaction a man can hope for?
Therefore, I now continue my life as an adventurer, calling her my “partner.” Even as I inwardly forbid myself from relying on her too much, I cling to her kindness.
…I wonder why, but I’ve started to feel a little sorry for myself. Even if her words had continued with, “And I will do as I please too,” it wouldn’t have changed much, would it?
“Umm… Good morning…”
As I indulged in my thoughts, Margit woke up, but it seemed the alcohol was still lingering, and her awakening was less than pleasant. I stroked her head and told her to rest a bit longer.
“Mm… Can’t I just stay here for a while longer…?”
Her sweet, slightly high voice reached out, her hand grabbing the collar of the worn shirt she wore as her nightgown and pulling to stay in bed. However, I couldn’t give in to this, even though it was a rest day. Succumbing to such sticky invitations could easily turn into lounging in bed all day till night.
While indulging in decadent bed antics isn’t altogether unpleasant, unfortunately, I can’t afford that luxury today.
I have a friend to show around the town, and more importantly, I still haven’t heard about the “terrible experience” Siegfried encountered while working yesterday.
Despite his stubborn claims that he only teams up with Lady Kaya, in the public eye, he’s still seen as part of my group. If he’s been saddled with an unfair burden, I need to make up for it. The rule is simple: you shouldn’t take more than you pay for. Such arrogance could lead to trouble for both me and him.
As I shook off her enticing invitation and got up, Margit, rubbing her sleepy eyes and fighting the heaviness in her head, crawled out of bed. Even though I told her not to overexert, her considerate nature was admirable.
Thinking at least this much, I helped her change and tidy up before descending together to the dining hall of the “Kitten Rolling Inn” where we’ve stayed for about three years.
“Good morning, doesn’t look like a great start, does it?”
In the early morning dining hall, where hardly any guests were up, the stunning proprietress with her glossy black fur was already cleaning. Seeing Margit lazily hanging around her neck, she smiled wryly, as if saying, “Well, what can you do?”
“Good morning, proprietress. Can I use the kitchen?”
“You sure can, just clean up as you always do when you’re done.”
With a laugh suggesting more than usual, I was sent off to the kitchen, where, since no one was around to watch, I refined the magic formula. The deployment of multiple “Invisible Hands” was already second nature, and as I threw a bundle of firewood—incidentally three asses—into the stove, I set the fire formula ablaze. Though small, the magical flame quickly consumed the wood, and the preparation for cooking was swift.
“What are you making?”
“How about some warm milk stew?”
“Ah… It should help my headache hangover stay a little longer…”
With Margit moved to where she wouldn’t interfere with the preparation, I grabbed an onion from the kitchen pantry. The metal milk can, cooled in water and filled with freshly delivered milk from a nearby farm each morning, had enough for a pot. Thanks to self-reporting and payment, we can use such ingredients conveniently.
Thinly slicing the onion and sautéing it in butter releases its sweetness, and adding a piece of dried meat and herbs to eliminate any unpleasant smell and simmering it in milk creates a potent hangover remedy. Ideally, I’d also add consommé cubes or black pepper, but the former is nowhere to be found from long ago, and the latter is an expensive luxury costing a silver coin per pinch.
Nevertheless, with a bit of effort and practice, even simple ingredients can make a satisfying dish. After a light boil, it’s ready. Placing it in a deep bowl and serving it, Margit gratefully sipped it bit by bit.
“Bread?”
“I’ll pass…”
She seems quite affected. Usually, she would also eat bread or meat to adjust her body condition, but if she can’t even do that…
Well, considering how much amber liquor I gave her without dilution, it’s no surprise she’s like this.
As I fed her spoonfuls, I noticed the sound of two people coming down the stairs. From their pace and rhythm, I could determine their stride length, weight, and tempo—familiar visitors.
“Good morning, Siegfried, Lady Kaya.”
“…Don’t greet people before you enter, it’s creepy.”
“Good morning, Erich.”
Siegfried, carrying the lingering effects of a deep fatigue, and Lady Kaya, who looked slightly better but still weary, had both awoken. The habit of waking up at a certain time is hard to break, even when exhausted, and us poor adventurers are not ones to linger in bed comfortably.
Seeing this, I offered them some stew and seized the opportunity to inquire about yesterday’s job that I hadn’t had a chance to hear about.
“Ah…?”
With a deeply unpleasant expression, Siegfried stirred the stew with a spoon while wincing as if touching a wound.
“That job was pure crap, you prick…”
Well, the escort job I delegated to Siegfried was supposed to be simple. Escorting a few carriages to a nearby large city, not as big as Marsheim, seemed like a routine task.
The carriages were carrying locally produced industrial goods destined for expansion projects in the target city. The task seemed straightforward.
It was a relatively public job as well, expected to make a one-way trip in about five days and return empty. The commission came through proper intermediaries from the executive administration, which added to its reliability.
It’s not strange that such a simple job reached me. Since the carriages carried the load of the administrative family of Mars-Baden, any unexpected event could tarnish their reputation. For extra security, they hired renowned adventurers or mercenaries whose names alone frightened bandits.
With my long-time companion and the unconventional yet formidable witch doctor with throwing magic medicine, alongside a team of five members, they had quite a robust security force. With additional backup mercenaries and the responsible knight in charge, this job should have been smooth sailing.
If Siegfried calls it a “terrible experience,” it must have involved unexpected complications.
“We were attacked by bandits… but not ordinary bandits. Their skill level was definitely that of a disguised private army.”
“Ho…?”
I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. This was no trivial matter. If Siegfried, with his extensive experience and keen judgment, says so, there must be truth to it. I’ve been ambushed a few times myself, but it’s not uncommon for local officials to hide their true intentions and use raiders to enrich themselves. Such rebellious landlords are more common than expected in the frontier regions. But this isn’t a case of their misconduct, is it?
Considering the cargo, targeting ordinary industrial products doesn’t seem worthwhile. The goods on the carriages, hinges and metal frames, are important but not of significant value warranting such danger.
Unless there was something else hiding in the convoy…
“So, who was aboard?”
“…Erich, seriously, you don’t know?”
“Of course, why would I intentionally send you into danger, Siegfried? Do I look like that kind of man?”
“You do.”
…Hmph, that was quick. Even with me, that answer made me deflate a bit.
I swear by the gods, I had nothing to do with it. On my sword’s honor, if necessary.
“Anyway, it was a noble’s daughter. Though calling her a noble is pushing it—her lineage is a fallen landowner barely holding onto a noble title.”
Hearing “noble” made me grip the wooden spoon tightly. Oops, can’t break it; the innkeeper would scold me. Sure, I could always make a new one, but creating unnecessary work is foolish.
“So why was she aboard?”
“We silenced her before she could say anything.”
“Perfect work, Siegfried.”
Raising my thumb in praise drew a dismissive wave from my comrade. It seems working with me has helped him learn how to deal with such aristocrats, which is commendable.
We, the wandering adventurers, must steer clear of any entanglements with the nobility to avoid being crushed by their immense power. How many have been falsely accused of meaningless crimes and had their accomplishments buried in history?
Keeping her quiet without delving too deep into her story was the best course of action.
“Did Lady Kaya handle quieting the young lady?”
“Yes… I tested a new sleep-inducing drug.”
The gentle girl clad in her verdant robe announced quite ruthlessly amidst her endearing nature.
As Siegfried has grown, so has she. Now tall and slender, towering over even my childhood friend with a touch of pride evident. Despite the modest robes, she exudes an allure that men of the world would find hard to ignore. Her once gentle and youthful face now carries a refined beauty, with a strong determination visible as she helps her childhood friend’s adventures.
She has grown not only in appearance. Her skills in drug compounding have improved dramatically over the years, and the battlefield has allowed her to experiment freely, leading to tremendous advancements.
The ability to mend severed fingers without damaging the wound, despite time limitations, is something even most mages cannot accomplish. Her creation of combat-effective drugs shows her capability extends far beyond her initial shortcomings in on-site spell casting.
This time too, her support has been commendable. Given that we were escorting a secretly transported noble lady, regardless of her humble origins, gagging her wouldn’t be ideal, but putting her to sleep offers plausible deniability should questions arise—excellent judgment, indeed.
“So, any casualties?”
“None among our members, but a few of the red-jade mercenaries fell in the first wave. Around ten were injured… the knight in command also sustained an arrow wound.”
“The casualties were taken care of properly. Everyone is stable now, and our team only suffered minor scratches.”
“Very commendable, we must commend them later.”
However, this has caused quite the mess. It’s not something that can be easily swept under the rug with “all’s well that ends well.” This concerns our reputation and the plight of the red-jade adventurers who got entangled in this terrible job is pitiful.
Siegfried claims he’s had a rough experience, and knowing him, with his protective nature and courage under pressure, he must have taken quite a reckless stand to protect his less experienced comrades.
In that case, if I don’t step in, it would taint the prestige of the Sword Friends Association.
“Siegfried, what’s your schedule for this afternoon?”
“…I’m free.”
Given that he’d just finished the job, I expected him to be free. Still, it’s proper to ask.
Then the plan is set.
“Where are we going?”
As I stood to fetch pen and paper for writing, Margit asked listlessly. I replied lightly that I was heading to our room to retrieve them…
—
[Tips] Request intermediaries. Given that nobles or the administrative bodies can’t directly approach lower-class venues to make requests, and some families even hesitate to send underlings, request intermediaries come into play.
Though named intermediaries, they are not simply “agents” entrusted but instead take the request in their own name after receiving the full commission fees from the client. As the intermediary officially becomes the direct requestor, it aids in avoiding responsibility, which makes them highly utilized despite being a long-standing pain point for the guilds.
—
With deep gratitude, we celebrate 20 million PVs achieved just as our serialization hits its second year.
We thank you for your continued support of both me and Erich.
With the release of Volume 3, we reveal the female version of Mika’s character image, exclusive to Narou to avoid spoilers for book readers. Please refrain from any unauthorized sharing.
