Chapter 90: The Intentions Were Good (1) |
*
After parting with Perisia at the Marquis Hausen Family's Mansion.
I followed the route my father-in-law had arranged, changing cars several times.
And finally, I got into the car Otto was driving.
Rustle.
Inside the car, I changed into my Perception-distorting Mask and Robe and thought.
'How much longer do I have to live like this...'
Going to work just once was so complicated.
But it couldn't be helped.
My Teacher said he used an equally cumbersome method to visit the Limbus Pit every time.
Anyway, is it because this is a Dark Fantasy?
It's hard to even go to work once without a care.
"We've arrived at the Merchant Guild, Director."
The grand building outside the window welcomed us.
Right after the establishment of the Meyer Clinic was confirmed.
The Guild Master, suddenly struck with inspiration for architecture, had a new building put up.
— "If we are to be a Class 1 Trading Company! Don't we need a building befitting that fame! Wahaha!"
As a result, a Merchant Guild Building more luxurious and grand than any other on this street was completed.
Beside the building.
Otto stopped the car in the separate Parking Lot and said.
"I will go and fetch the Holy Knights."
"No, Otto. I'm stopping by the guild today to pick up some medicine for the Clinic. I'll get out too."
"Understood."
With Otto in tow, I headed for the Merchant Guild Building.
As I passed through the revolving door and stepped into the 1st Floor Lobby of the Merkur Main Building,
a cleaner diligently scrubbing the marble floor greeted me.
"Good morning, Director!"
"Hello. How has your herniated disc been lately?"
"It's gotten much better since you treated me, Director."
"Don't overdo it. We don't want it to rupture again."
"I'll keep that in mind."
I greeted the cleaners and employees as I passed and headed for a corner of the Lobby.
Having received my contact that I would come to pick them up, they had already arranged the medicine on one side of the hallway.
"This is the amount for today's pickup, Director. Two boxes of Painkillers, three boxes of Antibiotics, one box of Insulin, and one box of Vaccine."
"Thank you for your hard work so early in the morning. What about the receipt?"
"I've already prepared it, Director. I just need your signature."
A quill pen glided across the receipt, completing the signature.
Otto approached the medicine boxes to move the luggage.
"I'll take these to the car first..."
Before Otto could finish his sentence.
Slam!
Someone threw open the Reception Room door with gusto.
A lump of living muscle pushed its way through the doorway.
"I have been waiting, Saint!"
Bulge, flex.
Muscles squirmed as if to create that very sound effect.
I quietly called out to the muscular man.
"... Holy Knight?"
"That is I!"
The chandelier on the ceiling trembled at his booming shout.
The morning sunlight reflecting off his shiny forehead made Otto frown.
Beneath a curled-up beard.
The Holy Knight uniform, on the verge of bursting, was screaming for help.
"Holy Knight, Gregor Ardenu! I have risen early at dawn again today to burn this body of mine in service to the miraculous Saint!"
"..."
Gregor Ardenu.
A genius High-Rank Holy Knight who achieved the 4th Rank at age 24. (He looks like he's in his late 30s, but he's really in his 20s).
Impeccable integrity, skilled in both pen and sword, and brawny.
There are many words to describe him, but he had one most famous sobriquet in the church.
The Fallen Inquisitor.
He was a Holy Knight who, despite being an Inquisitor, could not bring himself to harm heretics due to his overly kind heart.
His appointment as my bodyguard, an outcast in the church, was not the church's subtle way of messing with me.
In fact, the church had recommended other Holy Knights.
— "Saint? There are more skilled Holy Knights, so why...?"
— "Still, I prefer this man."
But I chose him as my Holy Knight.
The reason?
Because he seemed interesting.
And because he seemed trustworthy.
In a world rampant with betrayal, what's needed isn't skill.
It's trust.
In that sense, my reason for choosing Gregor was singular.
I believed that this man, who couldn't bring himself to harm people, would protect me without betraying me no matter what.
And Gregor lived up to my expectations, guarding me with all his heart.
"Your muscles look healthy again today. I'm in your care, Holy Knight."
"Keuk! A compliment from the Saint always makes my pectoralis major resonate!"
If there's a minor drawback, it's that he's a bit overwhelming.
And that his sensitivity is a little too rich.
Still, minus the minor drawbacks, he was an interesting person.
At that moment.
He suddenly spread his arms wide.
Seeing the thick, prominent veins on both arms, a wave of anxiety washed over me.
"This one's heart is overflowing like a river cresting its banks! Now, come and be embraced by this one's chest! A French huuuug!!"
A giant shadow descended upon me.
I instinctively took a step to the side.
The giant mass of muscle that passed me by.
...The scent of baby skin lotion tickled my nose.
Why on earth did this giant lump of muscle smell like powdered milk?
"...? Urk!"
The muscleman who had passed me by wasn't holding me in his arms.
Otto, who was holding the medicine boxes, was crushed against Gregor's thick chest.
Only after a long embrace did Gregor seem to realize something was wrong.
He slowly lowered his gaze.
Otto's face had already turned blue.
"... Hmm?"
His gaze went to Otto, who was buried in his pectoralis major.
He seemed to have belatedly realized it wasn't me he was hugging.
But he paid it no mind and felt Otto's biceps.
"Ooh..."
He let out a low exclamation of awe.
"Your muscles are harder than they look, Sir Otto. With a foundation like this, this one could even teach you the Divisional Stimulus Separation Training—"
I listened only that far before turning my head away from Gregor.
Leaving him to ramble.
I greeted the Low-Rank Holy Knights who were assisting Gregor.
"Hello, everyone. Thank you for your hard work so early."
"We greet you, Saint."
"If it's not too much to ask, would you help me move this luggage? I know it's not part of your mission, but it's too heavy for me to lift."
"Not at all. You can command us as you wish."
"It's not a command, it's a request."
"Understood."
— "Ooh?! The thickness of your latissimus dorsi...! When on earth did you do these exercises?!"
Leaving Gregor to mutter to himself while hugging Otto from behind.
The Low-Rank Holy Knights and I moved the medicine boxes to the car.
It was a peaceful morning, no different from any other.
*
The car, loaded with medicine boxes, Holy Knights, and one giant lump of muscle, departed.
As I was admiring the scenery flowing past the car window,
the voice of the muscleman Gregor came from the passenger seat.
"Saint."
"Speak."
"Last night—"
Gregor, turning from the passenger seat.
Boing.
His tightly curled beard asserted its presence along with a sound effect.
"On your way home, Saint. This one's subordinates detected suspicious movement."
"That's the fifth time this month already."
"Do not worry."
He said, patting his pectoralis major.
"We arrested them before dawn."
"Who were they?"
"Well..."
His beard lost some of its vigor and drooped.
"They committed suicide as soon as they were caught, so we couldn't find out. It's possible they were already corpses."
"... That must have been difficult for you. Are you alright?"
I offered comfort to the delicate(?) Holy Knight who couldn't stand seeing corpses.
The Holy Knight shook his head with a grim face.
"I am fine. You are very kind, Saint."
He slapped his own cheek with a smack.
"Anyway! It seems Black Magicians are constantly targeting you, Saint. There's no physical evidence, but it's a feeling. I think it would be best to be more careful on your way to work from now on. At least until you enter the Academy."
"Understood."
This is why Black Magicians are such a pain.
It'd be nice if there were techniques like magical power tracking, like in a typical fantasy, but...
this dark world setting has nothing of the sort.
Magical Power is just Magical Power, and to track magic, you ultimately have to follow its traces.
That's why the lesser-known the black magic, the more it allows for these kinds of infinite attempts.
'The ones who were following me just now were likely Undead, too.'
It's not a world setting where most nobles hide their identities for no reason.
When I was silent for a while, Gregor spoke up.
"Worry not. I will stake all my muscles to ensure they don't lay a single finger on you, Saint."
"That's reassuring, Gregor."
"Hmph...!"
The Holy Knight snorted, showing his confidence.
I realized this was his way of being considerate and gave a bitter smile beneath my crow mask.
As we talked, the car was already heading toward Limbus Pit.
The scenery outside the car window was the same as always.
A procession of people being exiled to Limbus Pit stretched toward Limbus Pit.
However, there was something different today.
In front of the tin gate that marked the border between Limbus Pit and Civitas Square.
The overpass that should have been above the road leading there was lying on the ground, not in the sky.
An overpass had collapsed in the middle of the street.
Huge chunks of steel had fallen, completely blocking the central road.
People had gathered in front of the collapsed metal plate chunks.
— "Help! Someone's in here!"
— "Stand back!"
— "I said there's someone in here!"
— "I know, so stand back!"
A person's arm stuck out from between the fallen railings.
Someone, pinned beneath a metal plate, was crying for help with an unseen voice.
But the guards, far from conducting a rescue operation, were busy controlling the onlookers.
— "It's an attack by a Black Magician! Everyone, on your guard!"
one of the guards shouted.
Only then could I understand the guards' reaction.
A Black Magician might attack during the rescue.
The guards had no choice but to be passive about the rescue operation.
The expressions of Gregor and Otto, who were looking at the overpass, also darkened.
"Otto."
"... Are you going to save them?"
"It seems I can't go against my innate nature."
"I will contact the clinic and tell them you'll be late."
Instead of taking another route, Otto turned the car towards the overpass.
I was already reaching for the car door handle.
It was then.
"Stooop!"
Gregor shouted from the passenger seat.
"Saint."
The Holy Knight spoke in a low voice.
"Judging by this one's intuition, this is, with high probability, a trap."
"I know."
"According to bodyguard protocol, this one should not permit this rescue act for the sake of your safety, Saint."
"But you won't do that, will you?"
Gregor nodded.
"This body has already fallen for breaking the rules of the Inquisition. There were times I regretted letting my conviction precede the rules, but you affirmed me for who I am, Saint."
Crack, creak.
He slowly unclenched his fist.
"The path you walk, Saint! Even if it is a thorny path, this one shall tread it first, and even if it is a poisoned chalice, this one shall be the first to taste it! That is this one's mission and honor!"
Haaap!
With a kiai, Gregor ripped off the door panel and leaped out of the car.
He, having made a makeshift shield of the torn door panel, said.
"I will lead the way!"
"... This is the third time already. I'll be billing the church for the car repairs."
"Hiing."
His beard drooped limply.
It was because the future where the church would cut his salary was plain to see.
*
With Gregor in the lead, I headed toward the overpass.
Beneath the wreckage of concrete lumps and metal plates, a twitching hand was visible.
I checked his pulse.
Fortunately, I could feel a pulse.
"Stand ba—"
"Wait. This person is...!"
The guards began to stop me, but when I revealed I was the Saint, they said nothing and stepped back.
I began to clear the debris with the Low-Rank Holy Knights.
The more debris we cleared, the more the person underneath was revealed.
It was a man around thirty.
His face was ashen, and his lips were almost colorless.
A chunk of concrete was covering almost everything below his pelvis, with only one arm and his upper chest exposed from the debris.
His scattered hair beside his face, covered in soot, was trembling faintly.
"... Someone, help."
"Don't worry. I will be sure to save you."
I said, tightly gripping the man's dust- and wound-covered hand.
"But can you tell me how it suddenly collapsed?"
"Well... I was crossing the overpass at dawn when suddenly..."
His voice was too quiet to hear properly.
Beyond the alley entrance, the sound of a crowd gathering had begun.
The murmur of passersby trying to peek over the collapsed overpass on tiptoe.
"Stand back!"
"Back off! Is this a spectacle to you?!"
The commands of the guards controlling them.
The bustling footsteps of the subordinate Holy Knights kicking broken concrete fragments aside with the tips of their feet.
As if a single thread was suddenly slicing through the middle of all that noise,
Clop, clop—
the clear sound of horse hooves came from deep within the alley.
Before I could even take my hand off the patient's wrist, a carriage drawn by four horses was charging madly toward us from the narrow alley entrance.
The horses charged, foaming at the mouth, their eyes rolled back to show only the whites.
"It's an attack!"
The guards immediately thrust their spears, but the horses' speed didn't slow even when pierced.
Even breaking the shafts of the spears embedded in them, the horses charged toward us.
It was obvious who the horses were targeting.
"Gregor."
"Under—stood!"
Rip.
A button popped off.
"As if this one would let you evil minions dare to interfere with this sacred moment!"
Gregor, ripping off his Holy Knight military uniform top and charging at the carriage.
His muscles, imbued with divine power, radiated a brilliant light, showing off their presence.
"Open your eyes wide and behold, you evil minions! This beautiful Divine Martial Arts of the Ardenu Sect!!"
Gregor, holding the ripped-off car door panel instead of a shield, rushed toward the crazed carriage like a rugby player.
Soon, the shining lump of muscle collided with the four frenzied horses.
Craaash—.
I didn't see exactly how the collision happened.
It all happened in an instant.
But what I saw in that one moment was the sight of something huge crashing into one of the alley walls and bouncing off to the side.
The screams of horses, the scream of splintering wood, the short, dull scream of the carriage axle snapping.
All those screams tangled together in a single beat.
And when the dust from the wreckage rose thick in the alley once more.
Gregor struck a firm pose, cutting through the dust.
"Hnngh...!"
The Holy Knight snorted and struck a side chest pose.
I said to the Holy Knight.
"I'll pay for that building's repairs and bill the church for it too."
"(Whimper)."
"And about taking off your shirt... it is a violation of the duty to maintain dignity... but I'll speak to the Diocesan head about it."
"Hiing."
His beard drooped limply.
Gregor Ardenu (Age 24).
Achieved a monumental 10th written report just one month after becoming the Saint's bodyguard.
