Chapter 208

208th Chapter

A Brief Rest for Moving Forward Six Spaces

208 – A Brief Rest for Moving Forward Six Spaces #2

Bacchus, the god of alcohol and festivals.

According to the stories, he was originally a human, not a god. To be precise, his bl**d was half god and half human—a demigod.

Of course, the fact that even half of his bl**d is divine can be seen as a great blessing in this world.

After all, those with even a drop of divine bl**d are destined not to live ordinary lives. Instead, they are sure to have a life of ruling over others, no matter what form it takes.

Take, for instance, the magnificent and splendid lives led by Hippolyte and Antiope, who both claim to be demigods.

No doubt, the demigod Bacchus must have also enjoyed a highly glamorous and impressive life.

Sit, spoony little brat.

Anyway, during his lifetime, he amassed countless followers, and then later ascended to the throne of Hypos, the realm of lofty mountains, becoming Bacchus, the god of alcohol and festivals.

However, for a deity primarily associated with alcohol, festivities, and revelry, there are quite a few legends depicting him as ruthless and cruel.

That’s because “alcohol,” which Bacchus symbolizes at its core, inherently encapsulates the brutality and madness of human nature.

Thus, devotees of Bacchus, the god of alcohol, often double as followers of madness.

Many people are fearful of them, for they embody the dual nature of revelry and cruelty.

In this sense, Vice Vein, the man I was scheduled to meet, was certainly a man to be wary of.

He is said to be a fervent follower of Bacchus and an exceptional inquisitor who hunts heretics. That was all the information I received from Antiope, so the rest I would have to confirm with my own eyes.

Sit, an inquisitor, huh?

The image that immediately came to mind was of people in tall hats tying others to a torture wheel and spinning it endlessly.

And those kinds of people usually didn’t like me because I’m an outsider with pitch-black hair, someone who is greatly distrusted in this world.

“There, if you go to the banquet hall, you’ll find Master Vice waiting for you.”

So, the day after having fun playing board games with everyone,

I seriously contemplated leaving before reaching the place where Vice Vein and I were supposed to meet.

Why exactly does he want to see me?

Did he discover that I was the one responsible for the necromantic traces mentioned in the report about the investigation?

While pondering these things, I followed a pretty young girl to a large open space.

This was the banquet hall of Bacchus, located in the center of the city of Sodomora.

Here, events and festivals are held in Sodomora, and this is where the followers of Bacchus distribute alcohol and celebrate with the people, if I recall correctly.

Being located in a wide-open area of the city, I had worried how much I would suffer from the heat, but fortunately, there were lush grapevines overhead providing shade.

And beneath that shade, I could see people raising their wine glasses and boisterously chatting despite the bright sun still high in the sky.

These are the rowdy drunkards, indeed.

They are the followers of Bacchus.

Sit, drinking during the day like it’s nothing—enviously carefree lives they lead, despite the bizarre fact that they consider this behavior as an expression of their faith.

“Excuse me.”

They took no notice of my approach, remaining slumped in their chairs or occasionally standing up to sway around.

Men and women, the young and the old alike, had glazed eyes and flushed faces.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a man named Vice Vein.”

As standing among these drunkards felt increasingly awkward, I made up my mind to finish the business quickly and leave.

“Huuuuuuggh…”

“Mmmmmnnn…”

But the people seemed so intoxicated that they didn’t respond to my questions, lying around lazily everywhere.

The overpowering smell of alcohol was making my head spin.

To be honest, I wasn’t fond of drinking and didn’t indulge in it excessively either, so the atmosphere here was making me quite uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a man named Vice Vein. I was told he would be here. Is he here?”

When I asked again,

Suuuuck.

The man lounging in the chair in front of me raised his hand to point somewhere. There, in the middle of the open space, was a pool installed.

What kind of pool is this?

Curious, I looked over to see—

That there was a group of men and women, stripped down, half-soaked in a vivid purple liquid. What color is this supposed to be for a swimming pool?

The faintly sour smell suggested that the liquid filling the bath is probably alcohol. A cold pool of wine, with ice, grapevines, and leaves floating around.

Sit, what extravagance.

I break into a cold sweat just at the thought of adding ice to a lemonade.

“Are you Temple Knight Vice Vein?”

I addressed the man who was reclining with women on both arms, his head tilted far back.

Even though most of his body was hidden by the purple liquid, his well-toned muscles were clearly visible, indicating that this man was likely a Templar Knight.

“…”

But there was no response from the man.

“Master Vein, a guest has arrived.”

The women clinging to him just tenderly stroked his face with affection. Were the women also n*ked inside the bath?

I had heard that the followers of Bacchus have loose s*xual morals, but seeing it in reality was quite a spectacle. It felt like I had entered some VIP room where membership fees were outrageous.

Are all these rich spoony insiders really this wild?

“Master Vein…”

“Ahhh, I must have dozed off. Is there a guest? Then my dear ladies, would you please excuse us?”

“We’ll play again later! Heheehee…”

With giggles, the women sloshed out of the pool.

The sight of their lethargic bodies, soaked in the purple water, swaying this way and that as they walked past—it made me a little angry. d*mn it, is this what it’s like to live as a conqueror?

Actaeon was also a handsome guy with golden hair, gay-like, but I could somehow tolerate him due to his odd exhibitionism. But this guy? It’s so envious it borders on hatred.

While I was seething with jealousy, the man spoke.

“Would you care to join? Since this is the season of abstinence, we’re absorbing alcohol through our skin instead of drinking it.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

Even if I were n*de, the idea of getting covered in wine makes me cringe. I wouldn’t get into that wine tub unless I was paid.

“Do you not enjoy alcohol?”

“I’m okay with it in moderation, but tell me, you asked to see me. What’s the matter?”

Swish.

I dragged a nearby chair and placed it beside me, sitting down.

I had no intention of having a long conversation with a drunkard, so I just wanted to cut to the chase and finish this quickly. Even a drunk person should have understood that I was trying to hurry things along.

“You seem to be a more urgent person than I expected. Living a life without the leisure of having a drink is admirable. Very well. Forcing drink upon someone is, after all, a very distasteful thing.”

Glug.

The man rose to his feet. He appeared to be about a head shorter than me.

To spare details of the man’s nakedness, I will say his build was lean and his muscles were toned, reminiscent of a sharp dagger.

Yes, a dagger.

Pale in comparison to my mighty Club of Fear Crusher, but still…

Kid.

I’ve won in at least one aspect.

While I was confidently gloating inside, the man plucked the grape leaves stuck in his hair and draped a white gown-like garment over his body.

Then, doing the same as me, he pulled a chair and sat across from me.

With a sharp face, he had a very slender and nimble bearing, reminiscent of a snake.

You can instantly tell he’s a strong man.

Level 40, give or take.

Surely this is Vice Vein, a follower of Bacchus and one of the nine knights of the Shrine Knights.

“From the newspaper, I saw an article about you, Samaritan.”

His demeanor and speech, while very courteous, actually made me more on edge.

In my mind, I expected a scruffy middle-aged man who liked to drink raucously, not some unexpected gentleman intellectual with no facial hair. Come to think of it, he’s handsome.

The man said,

“In that dark cave, wasn’t it said that you single-handedly took down nearly a hundred goblins? Is that true?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes.”

“Indeed. Understanding becomes clearer when meeting in person. So, since you seem to be a busy person, I’ll ask right away. Did you encounter Gigas Gogriad, the greedy goblin there?”

“You mean the large, fat goblin?”

“Likely. He’s the underling of the Gigas and Mezaire that I’ve been chasing. Did you maybe come across any information about him, or perhaps any mention of the blue-eyed undead?”

This guy…

Based on my understanding, information is a scarce resource in this world.

You can manipulate others to the extent you know more than them, widening the gap between you and others to either live a better life or control your opponents.

Because of this, there are information brokers who trade information underground.

However, this man, Vice Vein, bombarded me with a lot of information at once. His attitude was unexpectedly calm and level-headed, as though he wasn’t the same person who was soaking in a wine bath just a moment before.

Is he suspicious of me?

As far as I was concerned, it was natural to have that thought.

Initially thinking of feigning ignorance, I decided it might raise more suspicion, so I opted to casually share some information I knew.

“Gigas, I think I’ve heard of it somewhere. Something about it rising to the surface, right?”

“Indeed. It’s problematic because the lackeys of hell are trying to ascend.”

“Super d*mn problematic. I hope every one of those bastards from hell gets wiped out.”

Thinking about the malicious and wicked ones who might target Luna, I cursed with some genuine emotion.

“The bastards of hell-?”

Perhaps that surprised him, judging by the slight twitch of his eyebrows in what had until then been an emotionless gaze.

“Oh, my apologies. I just can’t control my anger when it comes to cultists.”

“Ah, you seem like a surprisingly interesting person. I’ve heard of your great achievements in rooting out cultists. Would it be inappropriate to inquire if you have any connections or grievances with them?”

“Well, having black hair tends to get me misunderstood in different ways.”

“Indeed. It certainly could. There used to be many rumors about Samaritans having ties with Pluto, but of course, they were just rumors.”

The tension in his eyes seemed to ease slightly, as if my explanation was convincing. There’s no way he could think of me as a necromancer with blue eyes.

People with strong faith in this world feel a great sense of guilt when they speak ill of the divine, even if it’s a lie, so they wouldn’t do so lightly.

As for me, I don’t have such scruples.

Thus, there’s nothing better for proving I’m not a cultist than by cursing them harshly—it really works effectively.

That’s when I had a brilliant idea.

This guy is a Templar Knight who would attack anything related to the hellish power. Meanwhile, Luna’s enemies are the “bastards” coming from hell.

Wouldn’t it be perfect if I managed to set them against each other and let them drain each other’s strength? They both would lose, and I’d have nothing to lose either way—a perfect win-win situation.

So I launched into a severe critique about the horribleness of cultists and how they target hardworking common citizens.

“They’re undoubtedly planning to invade by borrowing the bodies of famous monsters.”

“Famous monsters? Mister Hassan, by saying that you are implying the lords of hell borrowing the bodies of named powerful monsters, aren’t you?”

“It could be.”

“Indeed. That’s a reasonable assumption. We’ve had similar discussions internally within our guild, as well.”

“So monsters, cultists—just take them all down.”

“Indeed, a very right statement.”

Apparently satisfied with my lengthy speech, Vice soon broke into a smile.

I didn’t particularly care whether the guy wept or laughed, but it was fortunate that the tense atmosphere he had created just moments ago started to relax.

The man, who had been smiling slightly, suddenly wore a rather awkward expression.

“Therefore, I feel the need to apologize to you, Mister Hassan.”

“Apology to me? What do you mean?”

“The truth is, I suspected that you had performed necromancy in that cavern.”

“Is that so?”

“Considering the situation, you were the only one to have been there. And now that I see you, your aura somewhat resembles some cultists I have encountered.”

Indeed, the Shrine Knights.

They have good instincts.

Since the start, he has been spot-on with his guesses.

All I could do was reply nonchalantly.

“Well, it must be because of this necklace. It was a token taken from a cultist named Koma.”

“The Star of Kalan, indeed, that could be the case. After all, a warrior of your caliber is hardly likely to be suspected of necromancy.”

“Is that so? Why?”

“Necromancers not only wield hellfire but also siphon their life force to manipulate the undead, so they generally have a gaunt, old man-like appearance. By comparison, Mister Hassan, you look rather healthy.”

I could feel his discerning eyes swiftly scanning me.

“You appear quite robust, Mister Hassan.”

This is the same thing I heard from Gogriad.

My build doesn’t suit that of a necromancer.

Sit, lucky I’ve bulked up a bit.

“Judging by that, it’s highly probable the necromancer with the blue eyes is an old, emaciated man. From what research I’ve done, the scale of necromancy conducted in that place is vast—around a hundred units. To perform that extent of dark magic would absorb their life force, making them look old even at a young age.”

“I see. Then I should start suspecting the elderly, right?”

“Anyway, I apologize for the misunderstanding. I already heard from Actaeon, but you truly seem to be someone far removed from necromancy.”

“Indeed…” Vice trailed off, hinting at my surprising politeness—something probably unexpected given my supposedly uncouth appearance.

I nonchalantly said,

“Well, when you’re working hard, sometimes you inadvertently suspect others, right? But if you ever catch the culprit, what happens next?”

“Immediate trial.”

“That’s a pretty solid statement.”

While I was playing it cool on the outside, I couldn’t help but want to leave quickly. The longer the conversation dragged on, the more likely small cracks might show, and this guy seemed to be the type who could exploit those cracks without hesitation.

Pfft.

For some reason, my throat felt parched. Looking around for something to drink, I gulped down whatever was in the nearest teapot.

Bacchus’s eyes widened as he watched me.

“That’s wine aged for ten years inside that pot, yet you just chugged it like water. Indeed, your zest is truly unmatched. They say there are no bad people among those who truly know how to drink.”

“I see.”

I hadn’t realized what I drank until now, but my mouth was burning. It felt more like industrial alcohol than regular alcohol. Sit, I’m thirstier now.

Nevertheless, I seemed to have scored quite a few points in this man’s eyes, for he now seemed to have fully relaxed any suspicion he previously held towards me.

“Mister Hassan, in return for your information about Gogriad and as an apology for my earlier suspicion, I will share an important piece of information regarding the cultists with you.”

“Information? What is it?”

“Soon, a small suppression force will be organized. It’s not just Gogriad the Goblin King that I’ve been chasing. If you were to join this force, I can’t think of a more glorious contribution.”

“Is this also related to the Gigas?”

“Naturally.”

“In that case, naturally, I will participate. Just let me know when.”

“Your willingness is greatly appreciated. Tying up a busy person for too long is impolite, isn’t it? Let’s have a drink together tonight then.”

“Sure, then I’ll take my leave now—”

With that, I exited the banquet hall reeking of alcohol.

Considering I received a bottle of wine priced around 20 silver coins as a memento, I was feeling quite pleased—though at the same time, it felt like I had aged ten years just by surviving an encounter with that guy.

It truly felt like I lost some life force.

If possible, I would prefer never to see him again.

For some reason, I felt like Vice Vein was testing me. Even though he verbally withdrew his suspicion, there’s a chance he still detected something suspicious about me from his years of experience as an inquisitor and slayer of cultists.

Sit, thinking about it, I might have become one of those cultists myself.

With this thought, I returned to the house where Luna was. However, the yard was bustling with strangers I hadn’t seen before, creating a crowded scene in front of the house.

Lately, there had been a lack of potion orders.

Could these be customers who’ve all come at once because of the backlog?

But the vibe from these people felt somehow different from regular customers.

What is this, sit?

“Who are you all?”

[Author’s Comment]

On a side note… Each heroine has her own role, but in the case of Hassan and Luna, I’m making an effort to portray a mix of difficult yet thrilling feelings akin to the excitement of a first romance in an attempt to convey that essence to the readers…

I hope it’s coming across well. In the hopes that it does, I’ve cast a Voodoo spell for an improvement in my romantic luck…

!!