452 – Santa Departs to Deliver Gifts -2-

-If the Princess finds this aged man useless and will not accept the contract, what is the point of living any longer!!

-…Stop it!

-A loyal subject is… self-sacrifice. Because that is the truth, this old man shall prove his loyalty by dying!

-…Oh, please.

After foisting a slave who was incredibly efficient at doing free work onto Shartia, I cheerfully shifted my steps to find the one waiting for the next gift.

“Let’s see… Who’s next…”

This time I plan to go a little further away from the academy building. Because I’m going to deliver something that is ‘financially’ more expensive than the gift I gave to Shartia.

Because it was an object of astronomical value, it was important that it did not catch people’s eyes, and I thought that I should invest some time, because the protagonist of this gift was such a rare person.

“I wonder where they are…”

I have a rough idea where one is, but I couldn’t quite predict where the other would be.

“This could be a problem.”

The recipients of this gift were two individuals.

Hanna and Bailin, the ones who seized first place in the tournament held a few days prior in the capital’s sewers.

And the gifts intended for them were an ancient weapon and a secret manual.

I could roughly guess where Hanna might be. Most likely at the training grounds detached from the academy, or perhaps at the convenience store where Shuen hung out.

Bailin, though, that was the snag.

Bailin’s appearances in the novel were so sparse, it was as if the author had forgotten about her entirely.

“Tricky…”

Starting with her lineage, Bailin was, generation after generation, someone with remarkably little presence.

It was as if she had permanently activated a stealth skill, bringing to mind a character named ‘Bain’ from a certain game in my past life.

“Am I pushing it too far…?”

That would be a disaster.

Thinking about the items inside the subspace pouch Hans had made for me, I quickened my pace. The items were precious, so it would be problematic if they were stolen.

Even if they were stolen, I was prepared to chase the thief to the ends of hell to kill them, but, wanting to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I calmly continued walking, cautiously navigating the academy grounds.

“Could she be here…?”

I even searched aimlessly through the bushes.

“Bailin, Miss Bailin…?”

Just in case she was below, I even opened a manhole cover to check the sewers, but Bailin was nowhere to be found.

“Hrmmmmm…”

This is a pickle.

Hesitating at the thought that, at this rate, I wouldn’t be able to give the gifts to either Bailin or Hanna, I decided to fill my stomach first and started wandering around the main street.

You can’t climb a mountain on an empty stomach, after all.

Had I been searching for a decent eatery for about ten minutes?

“Hm?”

I spotted Bailin standing hesitantly in front of a nearby restaurant.

It didn’t seem to be a popular place.

There wasn’t a single customer inside, and flies were buzzing about.

“The bill…”

It seemed she had finished her meal and was trying to pay, as Bailin stood trembling before the counter, timidly calling out to the owner, who was absorbed in reading the newspaper.

“Please, the bill…”

Her voice was barely audible.

How did she even manage to order?

Amused anew by Bailin’s surprisingly successful ordering skills, I opened the restaurant door with a composed smile.

-Jingle.

“Oh my…! A customer.”

Hearing the bell, the restaurant owner, setting aside his newspaper, approached to offer a seat.

I smiled slightly and said,

“I’m here to meet someone.”

“Meet someone?”

The owner, glancing around, furrowed his brow at me as if I were seeing ghosts, but his eyes widened and he jumped back when I pointed my finger and said, “Over there.”

“Aish! Where has my head gone?”

“…I’ll pay, please.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize there was a customer…”

“It’s alright… I didn’t wait long.”

Once again, Bailyn’s… talent… brought a chuckle to my lips.

-Tap.

-Tap.

With a light step, I sought a quiet corner, and Bailyn gave a polite bow.

“Thank you. I was able to pay quickly, thanks to you.”

“Quickly…?”

“Yes… it felt about twice as fast as usual. That’s my regular place, you see. The owner is very perceptive and always gets the bill to me quickly.”

“Ah…?”

“Hehe…”

I couldn’t really argue with her enjoyment, so I offered an awkward smile and waved it off as nothing.

“How long were you waiting in the shop?”

“Well…”

Bailyn offered a shy smile, her cheeks blooming a faint red, and held up a single finger.

“Ten minutes, then. You waited a long time.”

“No…”

“…?”

“I waited an hour.”

“Woah…”

Bailyn’s talent seemed almost blinding. If nurtured well, she might become a prodigy capable of assassinating even the Archbishop. I suddenly felt the urge to feed her delicious things.

“You find me quite easily, Master Ricardo.”

“…Do I?”

“Even my mother and father have trouble finding me. I went down to the family estate, and they filed a missing person’s report. They said I never arrived, even though I sent a letter saying I was coming…”

“That must have been difficult.”

“It’s alright. It happens often.”

After hearing her peculiar family tales, I let out a hollow laugh and led Bailyn toward a more secluded spot.

“So, what brings you here, Master Ricardo?”

“Isn’t there something you’re supposed to receive?”

“…Pardon?”

“You were to be given an ancient artifact. You won first place in the sewers, no? Had you forgotten?”

“Ah… no! I thought you had forgotten all about me, so I was giving up hope.”

“I’m not *that* forgetful.”

Bailyn gave a small, genuine smile and clenched her fist.

“Shall I… give you money?”

“Pardon?”

“All I really have is money… I am so grateful, I’d like to offer some financial compensation.”

“You have a lot of money?”

“Not much, really, it’s just that during tax season, the tax collector tends to… forget about our family…”

What sort of family was this?

They were, by all accounts, model taxpayers, eager to contribute, yet, thanks to some quirk of their lineage, they were practically dodging taxes. If Desmond, the family head, knew, he’d be envious. I, having stumbled upon this family’s talent for tax evasion, let out a dry chuckle and waved off her offer.

“You don’t need to. I have plenty of money myself.”

“Still…”

“How much were you thinking of giving me?”

“One gold…”

“…?”

“Father often forgets my allowance.”

“How long has it been since you’ve received it?”

“He gave it to me last year, and then, nothing.”

“…Shouldn’t *I* be the one giving you money?”

This family seemed rife with problems.

“Well then, let’s talk.”

I rummaged through the subspace pocket Hans had made for me, a smile playing on my lips.

*

Underneath the tranquility of a moonlit night…

“…”

The cultists, faces ashen, watched the back of the figure engrossed in sketching the moon on a large canvas.

“…Art is a profound thing.”

“…”

“It’s quite amusing, isn’t it, that my art can be dismissed as mere lines by some, while others might see it as a masterpiece for the ages?”

“…”

“Don’t you think so?”

The man’s mere presence was enough to terrify the cultists. His ‘moniker’ had shaken the empire to its core once before.

And it wasn’t just the ‘moniker.’ To those who could sense the aura emanating from the strong, the man’s presence felt like an invisible weapon.

“Night, isn’t it…”

“…”

“What do you think of the night?”

“…”

“Do you find the night painted on a beautiful canvas beautiful, or does the darkness frighten you because you don’t know what might happen?”

The man gazed at the moon visible through the window, then sighed at the cultists’ silence.

“I hate the night, personally.”

“…”

“I used to love it. When that moon rose, the art I dreamed of became even more beautiful.”

“…”

“But it wasn’t.”

“…”

“You wouldn’t know the terror I felt from the moon when I was falling endlessly…”

The man, answering his own questions in a string, opened his eyes coldly and fixed his gaze on the one who seemed to be the leader of the cultists.

“Why did you save me? And where did that… thing, the one you call the Apostle, go?”

“The Apostle left orders for us to follow the new Archbishop and departed for other matters.”

“Ran off, did he?”

“…”

“Silent again, I see.”

The man chuckled dryly and addressed the cultists.

“I have no interest in the grand causes you chase. I am merely a twisted artist. A twisted artist who spreads… love to the masses.”

“…”

“Unlike you, who throw away your lives for some laughable purpose, I cherish and adore art.”

The cultists revealed their displeasure at the man’s mocking words. Even if they had reached for something tainted, dismissing their cause was an insult to the journey they had undertaken.

– *Thump*.

Offended by his negative remarks, the cultists, cloaked in a chilling shadow, began to approach him.

The man took a swig of his drink.

“Do you aspire to become a work of art?”

“…”

“If you wish, I suppose I could paint a portrait or two.”

“…”

“Why the hesitation?”

“…”

“So, not a gathering of madmen, but a gathering of cowards, then.”

The man scoffed at the cultists, who flinched, and, recalling a faint memory of the past, spoke.

“You wouldn’t know, not having experienced it. How many truly strong individuals exist in this world.”

“…”

“Especially *him*… you have no comprehension of just how strong *he* is, of what power he wields.”

“…”

“The helplessness of knowing you cannot win, no matter what you do, it crushes your will.”

The man, gazing at the desolate moonlight, carefully set down his bottle and said,

“My name is Pascal.”

“…”

“A lover of art.”

“…”

“Don’t worry; I intend to repay you handsomely for releasing me. He’s not some mindless monster that stalks me, so this time, I plan to move while evading him.”

– *Crack*.

“Not bad. This… piece… should prove interesting.”

Pascal’s mantis-like face, illuminated by the growing moonlight, displayed a cruel smile as he waited for his opportunity.

Wearing the smile of the villain who gave Michael the most trouble in the original story.

“Kekekeke…”

He was sharpening his murderous intent.