Short Story 8: Pantile Defies All Vices 2
*
Jenniferlin Pantile—a genius of commerce, investment, and extravagance; the once-in-a-century Pantile; the most Pantile-like Pantile of them all—suppressed a sigh.
It was because of the number attached to Shin, who walked before her.
For Jenniferlin, who proclaimed herself Shin’s best friend before being a Pantile, keeping silent about that number being attached to him was proving more difficult than she had imagined.
If possible, she wanted to confess. She wanted to admit, “I am doing something terrible to you,” and then be forgiven.
Perhaps, she thought, apologizing to a friend and being forgiven would feel good.
She imagined it would be incredibly relieving.
Jenniferlin considered this without contemplating a future where Shin might not forgive her.
But, well.
“That would likely be a vice.”
“What is, Jen?”
Shin Longdagger—the universally acknowledged, astonishingly Impoverished Viscount Household’s second son, an eccentric nobleman who was also an adventurer—spoke as he turned back.
His expression seemed to say, “Jen’s started saying strange things again.”
“About offering an apology you know will be accepted, Shin.”
“Isn’t that much different from being kind to someone because you want Words of Gratitude?”
Shin tilted his head, gently alluding to Jenniferlin’s behavior when he had helped an old woman the other day.
Jenniferlin offered a wry smile in response.
“My friend, those are different things. Being kind to someone because you want Words of Gratitude is merely seeking compensation. But offering an apology you know will be accepted is no different than extortion.”
That’s uncool, isn’t it?
Shin responded to Jenniferlin’s words with silence, cutting away a branch that protruded onto the path with his Sword.
“They both seem like a type of coercion to me.”
Oh, my friend is harsh.
But well, he’s right.
As Jenniferlin agreed inwardly, Shin continued.
“Setting that aside, where are we heading?”
“That’s quite a belated question.”
Jenniferlin was exasperated.
Normally, that’s a question one would have the moment they started down a small path lacking even a single Monster Ward.
At the very least, it wasn’t a question to ask after walking nearly half a day down a path barely distinguishable from a Beast Trail.
“If it were a destination you could mention in a place where we might be overheard, I doubt I’d be your only escort.”
Surely it’s safe to ask here, right?
Shin said this, shrugging as he glanced back over his shoulder.
I see, Jenniferlin thought, impressed that Shin had been considerate in his own way.
“Hey, that look hurts.”
Hmm, what could he mean?
“Indeed, there’s likely no risk of being overheard here.”
Jenniferlin answered, ignoring Shin’s protest.
“A friend of mine lives just ahead.”
Shin turned around at Jenniferlin’s words.
Hahaha, this guy.
“Stop making that face, Shin, it hurts.”
“A frie—”
She cut Shin off before he could finish.
“Even a Pantile has friends.”
Though the number is small.
Jenniferlin added this with a shrug.
*
Shin almost tilted his head looking at the house.
The house, likely built from nearby timber, could certainly not be called a mansion, but the money spent constructing it probably rivaled one.
At the end of the narrow path, barely different from a Beast Trail, stood a single house surrounded by a low fence.
A small field, a well, and for just this one house, four visible Monster Repellent Magic Tools.
Shin’s eyes could discern other Monster Wards as well.
Weren’t there enough for an entire village, just for this single house?
Before the simple fence—a gate that couldn’t even be called a gate, disproportionate to the money and effort spent on construction—Shin couldn’t help but look at Jenniferlin.
His friend, her glossy dark brown hair illuminated by the sunlight, noticed Shin’s gaze and tilted her head.
“Hey, Jen.”
“What is it, Shin?”
Jenniferlin asked back, her expression unchanged from usual.
Seeing her face, Shin thought his suspicion was likely wrong, but he couldn’t help asking.
“Have I done something that would make you want to kill me, Jen?”
After a moment of silence, Jenniferlin spoke.
“Shin, you really should try learning a bit about conversation. By the way, what made you think that?”
“Living outside human territory, even with Monster Wards, suggests anyone living here with just one or two people isn’t ordinary. I wondered if I’d unknowingly angered you, Jen, and was about to be killed by an Assassin kept by the Pantiles.”
Even as Shin said this, he didn’t think that was actually the case.
It wasn’t out of simple friendship, like trusting his friend, but rather from a strange confidence that if it were Jen, he wouldn’t notice until things were much more desperate.
In noble society, conflicts involving a house’s honor could escalate to friends killing each other.
Even as the second son of an Impoverished Viscount Household, Shin shared this noble sensibility.
“The day I make a plan that you can detect is likely the day my talent has dried up. It would be helpful if you’d let me know when that happens.”
Thus, Jenniferlin, also a noble, showed no anger and replied with sarcasm.
“Didn’t I tell you? We came to see a friend of mine.”
Jenniferlin said this in the tone of an older sister admonishing a hopeless younger brother.
“But well, I must say I’m surprised by your strangely sharp intuition.”
Shin almost tilted his head at Jenniferlin’s odd phrasing, but the next moment, he reflexively adopted a combat stance.
Noticing someone was at the gate-fence, the resident had come out of the house.
“Hey, Jen.”
“What is it, Shin?”
“You really haven’t planned an assassination or anything for me, right?”
Jenniferlin merely smiled at Shin’s words.
Give me a break.
Lamenting inwardly, Shin looked up at the sky.