Dark Fantasy Normalized – Chapter 31

An assassin without a code of conduct is merely a murderer.

The Assassin Guild upheld its respective creeds and regulations meticulously, and any reckless assassin failed to earn their respect.

…In that sense, the Black Snake was indeed an exceptional assassin.

We are the shadows that swallow karma.

The ego is to be poisoned.

Stay away from gold and blood.

For an assassin, the most crucial regulation—the Black Snake was relatively free from that code.

According to some, she interpreted and followed the regulation in a remarkably original way.

The Black Snake lived a life of a high-ranking adventurer, unapologetically catering to her own desires in the process.

It wasn’t exactly adhering to the code. However, it wasn’t entirely against it either.

She managed to maintain a precarious balance as an assassin.

Of course, if one truly wanted to uphold the code, such recklessness should not be neglected.

The Guild took action.

They mobilized other masters to attempt to mentor her.

In that process, the Guild unexpectedly gained something.

“When did you plant the poison? What a foolish question. Allow me to give you a chance to ponder before I answer.”

Each of those individuals was a master feared by the public.

Realizing that their lives hung entirely in the Black Snake’s hands was an eye-opening experience.

For an assassin, the code is absolute.

If there is one value that exists outside that code, it is absolute power.

Thus, the Black Snake earned the Guild’s respect, becoming even more dedicated to her ‘adventurer play.’

…All for the sake of curing a bothersome and horrifying skin disease.

It felt like the flame affixed to her skin was being extinguished.

It was a sensation unlike any she had felt since falling ill with the skin disease.

Salana immediately took out a mirror to check.

“…”

Salana carefully touched her face.

“This can’t be real…”

For ages, Salana had made every possible effort to heal her skin disease.

She traveled throughout the continent to meet renowned healers, priest mages.

She even went so far as to personally hire apothecaries and alchemists to craft customized cosmetics.

But it had all been in vain.

Though it temporarily sealed the scars and wounds caused by the disease, it did nothing to eliminate the condition itself.

This was different.

It was almost the opposite.

While the scars and wounds on her face remained, the underlying affliction was noticeably improving.

The horrific crimson hue that had tainted her skin had dulled somewhat.

“How…?”

Salana was at a loss, too surprised to even feel joy.

She looked at the man before her—Ricir.

He was an ordinary man, except for the thought that popped into her mind, ‘He’s kind of cute?’

Though somewhat aristocratic in appearance, he never revealed his family name, and his demeanor was casual.

It seemed he was likely a member of a modest family, struggling to embrace an identity as a noble.

His level was equally unremarkable.

In his early twenties, he was at Rank 3.

For a commoner, that would be evidence of exceptionalism—

But for a noble, who had been growing up with full support from a young age, it was proof of ordinariness.

Perhaps even a sign of inferiority.

Most who made an effort to heal Salana, including her, of course, would regard him that way.

Nothing special.

Ricir made an unimpressive first impression on people like Salana.

That unimpressive person approached her with claims of curing her skin disease.

It seemed reasonable for Salana to doubt his intentions and abilities.

Surely it had to be the case—

“What do you think?”

“…Huh?”

At Ricir’s words, Salana snapped back to reality.

Her expression brightened by the second.

With a sudden jolt, Salana grasped his arm.

“How did you do it?!”

In her shock, she forgot to play the part of ‘the easy-going high-ranking adventurer.’

But that wasn’t really a problem.

Right now, she was so pleased that ‘the Master of the Assassin Guild’ looked like ‘the easy-going high-ranking adventurer.’

“…”

Yet, Ricir’s reaction was lackluster.

He frowned slightly and spoke.

“Could you please let me know what your current state is, if possible?”

“…!”

Salana was taken aback by Ricir’s demeanor.

‘Why is he so reliable?!’

Her previously rigid posture softened suddenly.

Those who knew her true nature would be aghast at such a display coming from ‘that lunatic!?’

“I think it’s getting better! No, I feel like it really is! How did you do it? Can you tell me how?”

Once again donning the guise of the cheerful adventurer, Salana gazed at Ricir with sparkling eyes.

“It’s getting better?”

“…What’s the problem? At least it seems so to me—”

“Actually, Miss Salana, your condition hasn’t completely healed.”

“…!”

Salana’s eyes widened.

While she felt a sense of salvation from the mere improvement, this man seemed dissatisfied with the fact that he hadn’t fully cured her.

In other words, he believed he could completely heal her.

“What do I need to do? What do you need? Money? Materials? Just tell me.”

“…If I could ask you to place your hand once more on the wound—”

Before he could finish, Salana dropped to her knees and pressed her face against his palm.

“Whoa, you really don’t have to go that far—”

“Oh. Is that uncomfortable? Sorry. I’m just too excited right now—”

Haha.

Salana stood up with Ricir’s hand still on her face.

“Is that enough? How do you feel?”

Salana hounded him like a dog pestering its owner to go for a walk, but as soon as he focused, she immediately shut her mouth.

After a brief silence—

“Miss Salana?”

“Yes. I’m listening.”

“Could it be—”

Ricir struggled to find a way to convey what he had felt to Salana.

What he felt was that her skin disease was undoubtedly a subject for ‘normalization.’

An abnormal power responding to the force of normalization was worsening the condition of her skin.

Therefore, he expected that using the power of purification would cure her skin.

But lo and behold.

Salana’s skin disease remained unchanged.

More precisely, despite the recovery, it was reverting to its original state.

‘If I were to liken it, it’s like a pipe linked to a tank…’

Even if the dirty contents of the pipe were emptied, it would be immediately replenished through the connected pipe.

“Gah…!”

Sure enough, Salana grimaced and pulled her face from Ricir’s hand.

The healed wounds gaped open, oozing sticky pus. The fluid seeped onto Ricir’s hand.

For the first time, shame flickered across Salana’s previously cheerful expression.

“I’m sorry! Messy, huh?! I’ll clean it up right away—”

Salana rushed to pull out a handkerchief and wipe Ricir’s hand.

It was an excessively luxurious handkerchief for merely cleaning off pus.

It was a reflection of how much she usually cared for her skin.

“…”

With a face twisted in shame, Salana scrubbed Ricir’s hand.

Ricir sighed at the sight.

He had intended to lend a light hand, but it seemed this was far from a simple matter.

Ricir’s gaze drifted to the alley outside.

Pamon, waiting in front of the inn, was troubling him.

“What’s wrong? Do you have urgent business elsewhere?”

Just then, Salana’s voice completely captured Ricir’s attention.

In the brief moment he looked away, Salana’s atmosphere shifted dramatically.

Her cheerful expression was still there, but the light in her crimson eyes had vanished.

The desperation of potentially losing the hope she had just grasped disrupted the assassin’s calm.

The cheerful adventurer and the Master of the Assassin Guild melded into one as Salana gazed quietly at Ricir.

Next, she looked at their clasped hands as they wiped away the pus.

Ricir might not have realized it, but he was now infected with Salana’s poison.

Of course, it wasn’t a lethal poison with a killing intent.

Who would use something so heinous against someone who might become their benefactor?

“If there is something more urgent than healing me, please tell me.”

It was merely a lightweight poison that would temporarily restrain one’s physical freedom.

And it was powerful enough to make one reconsider the thoughts of leaving.

“…I do have prior arrangements with my companions.”

“Oh really?”

Salana sported a sly grin.

It was a well-known fact that assassins weren’t ones to pursue typical conversation.

They understood the futility of conversation all too well.

They knew of two more effective methods.

Coercion. And Threat.

Had it been the usual Salana, she would have attempted to engage Ricir in a lengthy conversation as the lively adventurer—but now, she had neither the composure nor patience for it.

Feeling anxious that Ricir might leave, the assassin quickly tightened the conversation.

Now, it was a matter of persuasion.

“Then I have no choice.”

Salana activated her poison.

Ricir reacted immediately.

“So, could I just stop by and see my companions?”

“?”

Without a trace of concern, he continued staring into Salana’s eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on going this far, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m new to this type of situation—It seems I need to see this through to the end. Would it be okay to ask for your cooperation?”

“…Oh! Co-operation! Of course, naturally.”

Salana was taken aback.

Her poison didn’t seem to have any effect, and the words coming from Ricir’s mouth were unexpected.

The Master of the Assassin Guild.

The Black Snake.

This was the first moment she displayed surprise to another.

“You also couldn’t heal me? Well, it seems this is a matter more pressing than my promises. Consider it forgiven this time.”

Pamon vented her irritation at the cancellation of the dinner appointment but was quickly satisfied with Ricir’s explanation.

“I have a place I need to stop by too, can you join me?”

“A place?”

“Yeah. Actually, I had a prior commitment too. I was planning to meet an expert for advice on this damned skin.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, it’s because of me—”

“Sor—ry my foot.”

Salana threw her arms around Ricir’s shoulders.

“Just as you prioritized me over your girlfriend, I need to prioritize you now. Honestly, I’d say getting help from you would be far more beneficial than consulting those two. Yet, I’m still considering going to see them—for the off chance it might help you.”

“Off chance?”

“Just in case the advice from those two might be helpful for you.”

“Oh, that’s true. I think the same. I actually wanted to ask multiple things regarding Salana’s condition.”

As they walked down the street, the forms of the surrounding buildings and the attire of the pedestrians dramatically transformed.

They left the streets of the inn and entered the Magic District.

“By the way, you mentioned experts earlier. Who are they?”

“One of them is a fairly renowned scholar in this city—a core magician from the Mage Tower.”

“Oh…”

Ricir’s eyes gleamed with interest.

A core magician from the Mage Tower was likely hard to get an appointment with, even for high-ranking nobles.

As expected of a high-ranking adventurer, the network he possessed was impressive.

Ricir felt pleased at the extra income he had momentarily forgotten about.

A high-ranking adventurer, indeed.

Such connections acquired just after entering the city was quite luxurious.

“And the other one is—well, it’s a bit embarrassing to mention, a shaman.”

“A shaman?”

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but he’s the only person who’s provided any considerable help for this skin disease. I received assistance from him once before, and it worked well, so I regularly meet with him for treatments.”

“Treatment, you say—”

“It involves conducting a ritual and taking a potion. It may sound silly, but it actually works quite well.”

“Ritual… Potion…”

Ricir repeated those two words as he regarded Salana’s afflicted skin.

Eventually, they arrived in front of an underground laboratory situated on the edge of the Magic District.

“This is my laboratory. It was set up for the shaman I just mentioned.”

As Salana noted, two guests were already settled in the lab.

‘Dread? How trendy?’

Ricir secretly admired the sight.

A long-bearded old man with gray hair tied into braids and a young woman with red markings on her face were seated across from each other, engaged in earnest conversation.

“Hey? Is that Salana?”

The old man quickly greeted Salana.

“That startled me. When I heard a professional was helping with your awful skin disease, I wondered who it might be—who knew it would be a barbarian.”

“A barbarian? You weren’t rude to my benefactor, were you?”

“At first! I was, inadvertently. It’s not common to converse with a barbarian, you know? But now it seems fine. I’ve come to understand that her knowledge is far from barbaric. Magic! What a wondrous and fascinating yet barbaric force!”

The shaman then bowed respectfully to Salana.

“Salana, it’s been a while.”

“Oh. It’s been a while, Glia. Thank you for coming, Meltas.”

“Haha. You’ve forced an old man to move his heavy feet. You should be grateful. Now, you should thank me. But Salana—who’s that young man next to you?”

Ricir stepped forward.

“I’m named Ricir.”

“Oh, alright. Ricir. So…”

“Yes?”

“Which family does Ricir belong to?”

“Oh. I can’t disclose that. I am a bastard of the family.”

“Mm.”

Meltas nodded.

A subtle hint of dissatisfaction shadowed his expression.

“So, it’s bastard Ricir. What brings you here?”

“Sir Meltas, Ricir came here to offer his assistance.”

Salana spoke, displaying a somewhat displeased countenance.

At that, Meltas too revealed a similar displeased expression.

A bastard.

And a mere Rank 3 brat at that, invited to this place on the same basis as himself.

“Then my assistance won’t be necessary.”

Meltas rose from his seat without hesitation.

Then the shaman Glia also stood up and quickly approached Salana.

Glia’s expression twisted as she closely examined Salana’s face.

“Salana, what happened?”


“What’s wrong?”

“Your condition… has severely worsened.”

She pulled out a vial filled with green liquid from her bosom and handed it to Salana.

“First, drink this.”

Salana reflexively took the vial.

Then Ricir snatched it from her hands.

In that instant, the color of the potion shifted.

“What are you—!?”

“You—”

“What have you done here?”

The bastard was a beat faster in interrogating the elder and the shaman.