Chapter 75: The Impoverished Viscount’s Second Son’s Opening Ceremony 7
While we were busy waking up the stunned horses and righting the overturned Freight Wagon, the surrounding adventurers dispersed.
They probably weren’t idle either.
A few of them muttered things like, “Being kind even to Scrap Hunters, is ‘Flame-Haired Longdagger’ an angel?” as they left, but I didn’t feel like confirming who they were talking about.
More concerning than something so obvious was their attitude towards the Scrap Hunters.
“Is their attitude always like that?”
Holding the wheel that had come off the axle, I asked this simply because I just didn’t understand anymore.
The target of my question—the adventurer Ezz, who had been wandering the line between life and death just moments ago—tilted his head.
“What are you referring to? Longdagger-san.”
Being called “-san” by someone around my age made me pull a strange face involuntarily.
“Longdagger is fine, no, just Shin is fine.”
At my words, the other adventurer, Pal, stopped putting the harness on the horse and hit me with a triple refusal, “No way, no way, no way.”
Apparently, Longdagger was now the most famous adventurer in Hecate, or something like that.
Behind him, Erica nodded contentedly while stroking the horse.
Words of denial almost reflexively came out, but I held them back.
“Then at least call me Shin, please. She’s also a Longdagger.”
“I am his wife, Erica Longdagger.”
When Erica said that with a refined smile, Pal let out a high-pitched voice, “So the rumors were true after all! That you’re a married couple of amazing adventurers!”
“So,”
Ignoring Pal’s excited squeal, I desperately controlled myself from breaking into a creepy smile.
“Is their attitude always like that?”
At the repeated question, Ezz and Pal looked at each other and tilted their heads.
Seeing that they genuinely didn’t seem to understand what I was asking, I tilted my head inwardly and continued.
“I mean the mocking attitude of the adventurers around you.”
When I said that, Ezz and Pal looked slightly ashamed, yet didn’t hide the fact that they thought it was natural to be treated that way, and said:
“Well, we are Scrap Hunters, after all.”
Pal, who nodded in agreement with Ezz as if saying ‘Well, it can’t be helped,’ felt the same way.
“You can’t be serious?”
Surprise escaped my lips involuntarily.
“Scrap Hunters are supposed to be the bravest adventurers!”
At my words, Ezz and Pal tilted their heads even more than when they hadn’t understood the meaning of my question.
“Scrap Hunters are adventurers who pick up the Magic Stone Fragments left behind by other adventurers, correct? Shin.”
It was Erica who asked this in place of the head-tilting Ezz and Pal.
“Forgive my impoliteness,” Erica prefaced before continuing.
“Since they gather Magic Stone Fragments because they lack the ability to hunt Monsters themselves, isn’t it unavoidable that they would be poorly evaluated by adventurers who are judged based on their strength?”
That’s a very Erica-like way of thinking, I thought, but shook my head.
Even though the Scrap Hunters themselves were nodding in agreement, as if saying ‘That’s right.’
“No, that’s wrong, Erica.”
At my denial, the two Scrap Hunters tilted their heads, and Erica looked into my eyes with interest.
“It’s true that Scrap Hunters are often adventurers who can’t defeat Monsters on their own. But that means they enter places where Monsters roam, all while being aware that their own strength is insufficient.”
I remembered the times I went Monster hunting with my master in Faltar.
The faces of those who followed us into areas where Monsters targeted by “Kind Barbara” roamed, trying not to get in our way, were etched with intensity.
Lacking the strength to defeat Monsters, Scrap Hunters are inevitably often fledgling adventurers.
The master-disciple relationship among adventurers isn’t some lukewarm arrangement where the master takes care of the disciple’s living expenses. Therefore, they have to earn their own keep.
Their courage—to venture into places frequented by high-Rank adventurers who disdain picking up Magic Stone Fragments, all while knowing their own lack of strength—is praised in Faltar.
Among all the muscle-brained adventurers, it’s the Scrap Hunters who are the bravest.
When I explained this sort of thing to Erica, she nodded, saying, “I see.”
After a slight pause, she somehow looked slightly flustered as she averted her gaze from my face and looked towards Ezz and Pal.
“Please accept my apologies. I deeply apologize for looking down on you and unintentionally insulting you.”
Ignoring the passing adventurers who looked surprised to see Erica bowing her head to Ezz and Pal, the two Scrap Hunters became flustered.
Watching this scene unfold, I was wrestling with a serious question in my mind.
“So if we went to Faltar, we’d be respected, huh?” were Pal’s words.
From the idle chat while doing emergency repairs on the Freight Wagon, I learned the simple reason why Scrap Hunters were looked down upon in Orclaugh: because there were many easy Monsters, even low-Rank adventurers tended to leave Magic Stone Fragments behind.
Unlike Faltar, it seems they weren’t constantly facing the kind of danger where one wrong move could turn you into mincemeat.
Apparently, even ordinary people who weren’t adventurers would sometimes do it, aware of the slight danger involved.
As a former resident of Faltar, the gutsiness of Orclaugh’s common folk seemed like that of madmen to me, but I suppose things are different in different places.
There’s a lot you can’t understand just from hearing stories from adventurers active across borders or reading books, huh.
Well, that’s obvious, I guess.
I thought this while watching Ezz and Pal leave, thanking them.
Right then…
I took a light, deep breath and chose to confront the problem I had been averting my eyes from.
Namely, the glint of Golden Magicka that kept catching my eye, and the gaze that would be averted whenever I tried to trace it back to its source.
Watching Erica watch the backs of the departing Ezz and Pal, I steeled my resolve.
Let me make one excuse here.
It’s a huge mistake to think you can act immediately just because you’ve steeled your resolve.
Ah, that’s right, I chickened out! I totally chickened out!
It’s fundamentally wrong to think humans can act based on a single word or a single resolution.
Just like Scrap Hunters become brave to survive, people need a compelling reason to push themselves to the limit.
There’s no way I could ask Erica something like, “Um, Erica-san, have you been glancing at my face quite a bit?”
Where could I possibly find a compelling reason to ask something like that?
Rather, that falls into the category of recklessness, not bravery.
Asking someone who knows you like them, “You’ve been looking at me for a while now, what’s up?”—anyone who can do that must be crazy. Where does that confidence come from? Just imagining it makes me respect them.
Now, if I were some peerless pretty boy, I could understand attracting gazes as unavoidable. But since the day I was born, I’ve never once had confidence in my own face.
So, from my perspective, Erica glancing my way means she has some complaint she wants to tell me.
There’s no other possibility.
Even I think, What am I saying? But since I can’t think of any other reason, it can’t be helped.
Knowing the Erica from the academy who would cut down even requests from royalty with a single “No, I refuse,” I’m moved by the kindness she’s showing me now.
Waiting for the right timing to voice her complaints—isn’t that the highest form of kindness one could show to their partner in this Farce?
The question “What if there’s another reason?” popped into my head, but if that were the case, it’d be checkmate right then and there.
Thinking about it is pointless. I’ll just face my honorable death cleanly.
Just as I made that do-or-die resolution and took a light, deep breath…
Suddenly, Erica, walking beside me, stopped.
What is it? My eyes were momentarily captivated by Erica’s gentle smile before I followed her gaze.
One of Hecate’s several churches came into view.
In front of its entrance, a man and woman, surrounded by family and friends, were smiling happily in the center of the circle.
“It’s a wedding,”
Erica murmured, not addressing anyone in particular.
Perhaps it was a joyous event meant to wipe away the misfortune of Monsters overflowing from the Demon Realm.
Although, we were the root cause of that misfortune.
“It’s a wonderful thing,”
Erica said.
“To fight not out of noble duty or obligation, but by one’s own will to protect a scene like that… being an adventurer is truly a wonderful thing,
Erica denied those words of mine.
“Illusions are important, are they not? My Lord. In the end, how things begin doesn’t matter at all. An illusion is a destination; no one walks a path that doesn’t lead to their illusion (goal). Even if the first step taken on that path is merely for tomorrow’s bread, should anyone mock that, I shall correct their misguided thinking. There are paths, and precisely because there are paths, that very first step is supreme.”
My illusion (Erica) says something incredible.
If you gathered the adventurers around here and let them hear this, they’d probably charge straight into the Demon Realm all together. If that happens, I won’t yield the vanguard to anyone.
“As someone who has walked pathless roads, that hits a little close to home.”
Erica laughed at my jest.
“That has its own charm, it’s thoroughly ‘like’ you. I’m sure it was a path abundant with Flowers.”
Saying that, she smiled, but as Erica watched the wedding ceremony, an envious expression flickered across her face for just a moment.
Naturally following the direction of her gaze (Magicka), I became certain then and there.
Erica, who seemed to have some dissatisfaction she wanted to convey to me, had deliberately stopped to watch the wedding ceremony.
And at the end of her line of sight was that.
I understood.