Chapter 150: The Dagger is Short, the Light Pierces, and the Flame Runs 1
＊＊＊Foreword＊＊＊
In this chapter, the character Jenniferlin Pantile’s name appears.
Her name has popped up a few times in the main story, but if you’re wondering ‘Who’s that?’, I recommend reading the short story.
Below is for those who find it a hassle to go back and read the short story:
Jenniferlin Pantile, from the same hometown as Shin and Erica, a noble of Faltar, daughter of the Pantile Barony.
A friend of Shin’s from his academy days in the Faltar Kingdom, and one of the few people who knows Shin worked as an adventurer while attending the academy.
A genius at making money, investing, and spending lavishly, and the possessor of the rare Appraisal Skill.
The Pantile among Pantiles, the Pantile of the Century.
She has many enemies and allies, but very few friends.
According to Shin, a troublesome family.
What exists between her and Shin is a Bromance.
＊
It was a day like hell, I think.
The Maiden of Light wouldn’t leave Erica’s side for a moment, as if trying to make up for all the days they couldn’t meet in just this one day.
Meanwhile, the Prince watched the Maiden with a creepy smile.
Next to me.
Yes, right next to me.
You handsome, popular guy, go join their circle, don’t come into mine.
When you’re next to me, that old guy in Armor automatically follows.
How many times did I think about saying that?
But I endured.
Because my Master and Elza were next to and behind me.
Honestly, if the Prince had gone over to their circle in this situation, I would have been cornered.
Even though I’d sent a letter explaining everything honestly, and there was nothing more to explain, I would have been forced to justify myself.
I don’t even know what I’m saying myself, but that’s just how Master is.
And from that justification, she’d pry something open, and some kind of meddlesome kindness would burst out.
The name “Kind Barbara” exists to warn humanity not to rely easily on the kindness of others.
The man who jokingly asked Master to buy him an apple is now serving as a Captain of the Guards in a distant country.
Makes no sense, right?
That’s Master for you.
＊
Thinking about Master’s iniquity, I swing my Sword in the early morning garden.
Moving to the edge so as not to damage the unusable bath Erica made due to a small defect, I just keep swinging my Sword down.
It’s the daily routine of someone like me, who is no genius or anything.
Movements forged through repetition will never betray you.
Order Swordsmanship, the Southern-Style Swordsmanship taught by my Master, and even practical combat experience as an adventurer have all mixed together, making my Sword style completely self-taught.
Actually, I quite like it.
Whether it’s Order Swordsmanship or Southern-Style Swordsmanship, they both assume the user can use some magic, so there are parts that don’t suit me, as I can’t use magic no matter what.
Someone like me who can only use a Sword is probably rare, even among adventurers.
In short, my Sword style is born from ‘there’s no one else like me, so it can’t be helped’.
I shave off the unnecessary parts, add what’s lacking, and repeat the process over and over to somehow give it form.
That’s how I arrive at my own rationale.
Yes, repetition is the path to rationality.
＊
Repetition is what guides me to rationality.
Repetition, repetition alone.
Having somehow survived the hellish day, I repeat this inwardly while preparing to brew Tea in the morning kitchen.
It sounds stupid, but humans become capable of doing things they must do by repeatedly saying or thinking about them.
What comes to mind is my old man back home.
His morning greeting, which he never once missed as long as I’ve known.
I’m going to do that.
I recall the pattern of my old man’s morning greetings.
Hey Honey, you look beautiful today too.
Good morning, my love. Your smile is a little too dazzling this early in the morning.
Good morning, my rose. The florists in the Royal Capital lament they can’t sell Flowers because of you.
Good morning, good morning, good morning.
My old man’s morning greetings, directed at my mother, of course. Recalling them, I’m impressed he could say such things first thing in the morning without any embarrassment.
That’s my old man for you.
Repeated every morning, it always concluded with words praising my mother’s beauty.
It felt like a ritual, but there was certainly a rationale born from repetition within it.
After all, if for some reason my old man missed his morning greeting, my mother’s mood would turn terribly sour.
Why did I have to pray first thing in the morning just to ensure I could hear my old man praise my mother’s beauty?
Was it hell?
But truth lies even in hell.
＊
While waiting for the water to boil, I repeat it over and over in my head.
Good morning, Erica, you look beautiful today too. Good morning, Erica, you look beautiful today too.
There are no parts I’m likely to stumble over.
Okay, I’m good.
Feeling a faint stir in the air, I finish my final check.
Quiet movements that, unlike mine, suggest a good upbringing.
Even the faint sound of the door hinges and the creak of the floorboards feel elegant.
“Good morning, Shin.”
Her voice, still low from the morning, strikes my ears.
Holding my cup and Erica’s cup in my hands, fully prepared, I turn around.
Goo– Whoa, seriously, Erica, you’re beautiful. It’s like the sun’s wishing us a Happy New Year in our house this morning.
Even the stray strands in her hair, merely combed through with her fingers, are beautiful.
Erica gives me a suspicious look as I stand there silent, making a fool of myself by being lost for words because the person I intended to call beautiful truly is beautiful.
Damn it, this makes me look like a creep.
“Good morning, Erica. You look beautiful today too.”
Yes! I said it! I managed to say it!
Shin-san managed to say it, without stumbling!
I can’t exactly look smug just for telling my wife (provisional) she’s beautiful, so I strive to keep my expression calm.
Besides, I think it’s cooler to give compliments nonchalantly. Me, able to naturally praise my wife, how cool.
As I focus on not looking smug, I hear the sound of Erica taking deep breaths.
She inhales deeply through her nose and exhales slowly.
Her lower body is clad in her usual adventurer gear, though she doesn’t wear her shin guards inside the house.
Her upper body is lightly dressed in just an inner shirt.
Erica, dressed in her usual morning attire, takes two or three deep, deep breaths and then says to me:
“What… exactly do you mean by that?”
Meaning? Do husbands in this world need a reason to praise their wives?
Or is there some rule that you can only compliment them on an anniversary or something?
My old man praised her every day, so probably not, I thought, but with those two, it wouldn’t be surprising if every day was some kind of anniversary.
Pushing thoughts of my
Is that so? I have memories of making it, but now that you mention it, I feel like Erika definitely did it much more often than I did.
“Maybe it’s because I’m aware I’m bad at making tea?”
He checked the dancing tea leaves and put the lid on the pot.
“When I made tea for a friend, they complained, saying something like, ‘How could you serve tea you know tastes bad?’ Maybe that’s why.”
He poured the tea into Erika’s and his own cups.
When he asked ‘Sugar?’ with just his eyes, the reply came back, “No, thank you.”
“Because I’ve decided to drink the tea you make without sugar.”
“Come to think of it, the one who went on and on telling me how bad my tea was said the same thing.”
As I sat down, I spoke to Erika.
I wanted to naturally steer the conversation away from the topic where the Virgin (lol) was trying his best to practice praising his wife. If possible, I wanted her to forget about it.
“‘Unexpected’ might be rude to say, but it’s surprising that you had a friend at the academy for whom you would make tea like that.”
He shrugged his shoulders to show he didn’t mind.
“Well, I planned on becoming an adventurer after graduating from the academy, so it’s true I wasn’t actively trying to make friends.”
Even so—
Erika made a somewhat envious face.
“Being invited to your home and treated to tea sounds quite enjoyable.”
While drinking my tea, I shook my head and corrected Erika’s mistake.
“I only ever made tea for her when we were out. Every time we camped, she’d complain about how bad it tasted, yet she was always nagging me to make tea.”
“Oh my.”
Erika gave an unreadable smile.
Why? I felt like I was being blamed.
“Was your friend an adventurer?”
“No, she was a classmate from the academy.”
I almost flinched from the growing intensity in Erika’s eyes.
“Jen… Jenniferlin Pantile. You at least know the name, right?”
“Pardon?”
For some reason, the smile vanished from Erika’s face, replaced by the kind of expression one might have upon discovering Shara sprouting from the ground.
What on earth am I saying? There’s no way Shara would sprout from the ground. Though, it would certainly be surprising.
“When you say Jenniferlin Pantile, do you mean that Jenniferlin Pantile?”
“I don’t know any Jenniferlin Pantile other than that Jenniferlin Pantile, so I think it’s probably the Jenniferlin Pantile you mean?”
I don’t think there was another Jenniferlin Pantile at the academy.
Anyway, Jenniferlin really is long. Jen is fine, right? Yeah, it is.
“Eh? Please wait, you were friends with Jenniferlin?”
“Well, Jen and I went through a lot together. We have the kind of relationship where she’d probably forgive me for calling her a friend.”
A hint of bashfulness crept into my reply.
Perhaps because I have so few people I can call friends, I get embarrassed calling someone a friend.
“Setting aside the matter of the prince…”
Erika looked at me with eyes full of grave suspicion.
“You claim you didn’t actively make friends at the academy, despite having a relationship close enough to call the genuine Pantile by a nickname?”
What exactly am I being suspected of?
Could she be asking if it wasn’t that I didn’t make friends, but that I couldn’t?
In my case, the two are practically the same (nearly equal), though.
Ignoring my vague nod in response, Erika muttered a Soliloquy.
“Pantile and Shin… is it possible that I wouldn’t have noticed such conspicuous individuals, even if I didn’t know them?”
“Setting aside the matter of the prince, I sense something strangely artificial about this.
Information manipulation by someone? No, that just raises the question of why.”
Erika was using her overly sharp mind to search for non-existent conspiracies.
Court struggles are essentially factional disputes, and because of that, nobles pay extremely close attention to their relationships with other nobles.
But what exists between Jen and me is different from those.
Noble friendships require a convergence of interests.
There was never any possibility of mutual interests arising between the Impoverished Viscount Household and the ‘slightly’ peculiar Pantile House.
In other words, we’re just friends.
Having finished her Soliloquy, Erika took a sip of tea and stared at me with an incredibly serious gaze.
“Shin.”
Even her voice was serious.
“Could it be… were you plotting a usurpation (coup d’état)?”
I regretted not interrupting her out of curiosity about what kind of conspiracy Erika would come up with.
“If that were the case—”
“Wai- Wait, please, wait!”
I hastily stopped her, afraid to hear the words that would follow.
Also, I was truly grateful from the bottom of my heart that Jen wasn’t here.
She would probably have started cackling loudly while elaborating on the non-existent coup plot in great detail.
I’m sure a perfect plan, almost as if conceived beforehand, would have emerged.
“Jen and I are friends, really, just friends.”
The doubt didn’t disappear from Erika’s eyes.
“You maintain a friendship with that Pantile of Pantiles, the genuine Pantile, the possibility-crazed Pantile who can overturn everything with a single Silver Coin, and furthermore, you say you were secretly maneuvering around various places, even camping out so as not to stand out, and yet you claim you are ‘just friends’?”
Oi, Jen, your family is way too troublesome!
Why? Why does talking about making tea for a friend turn into talk of a coup d’état?
No, wait.
Is Erika’s assessment of Pantile really about the Pantile House? Surely it’s not an assessment of Jen personally?
Oi, Jen-san. What in the world have you been up to?
I suppressed a sigh while envisioning Jen laughing gleefully beside Erika.
“Jen knew I was working as an adventurer, you know. The camping was because I’d taken on requests.”
Hearing my 100% truthful words, Erika temporarily retracted her suspicion.
I’m having a terrible morning because of your bad reputation, Jen.
I chased away the phantom image of Jen clutching her stomach and roaring with laughter, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Well, I shall accept that friendship can sometimes bring secrets between a husband and wife.”
Though there aren’t any secrets…
“And bringing up now how much fun you seemed to be having by yourself back at the academy is pointless, though it is regrettable.”
A smile returned to Erika’s face, indicating a tentative acceptance.
For some reason, I felt like I was being blamed again.
“Be that as it may, starting tomorrow, I will have Shin make the morning tea.”
I have absolutely no problem with that, but why?
My question must have shown on my face, as Erika crossed her arms and spoke in the tone of a teacher explaining the answer to a poor student.
“A wife cannot possibly fall behind others when it comes to the number of times her husband has made tea for her, can she?”
“Is that how it works?”
“That is how it works.”
As Erika replied, for some reason, her face flushed slightly, and she averted her gaze from me.