Ch.152The Road to Jerikania (5)

It was around the time we sent off the three merchants and resumed our journey.

As we chatted among ourselves, we began discussing trivial matters from our past. As usual, when the conversation turned to my past life—which was essentially a war—Lucia laughed and asked Raisha:

“But Raisha, what do you like about that murderous bastard that makes you spread your legs for him every other day?”

“Sister! Please watch your language…!”

Startled by Lucia’s sudden outburst, Casia began strangling her sister in horror.

I wasn’t particularly moved by being called a murderer, but these sisters certainly had a unique bond.

“Gack… save me…”

“Sigh…”

“Is it bad manners or lack of common sense… Are all young elves like this?”

“Old man! I’m actually older than you!”

“Then call me little brother, old lady.”

“Eeeek!!!”

Elves grow differently in body and mind.

Their bodies mature first, followed by their minds.

That’s why when humans interact with elves under 100 years old, they feel like they’re dealing with spirited teenagers around 13-17 years of age.

“What! Did I say something wrong? It’s the truth! All the people I’ve met combined don’t even make up one-hundredth of the people he’s killed!”

“Then why ask the wife what you should be asking him directly!”

Simon scolded her while nervously glancing at me.

He was afraid I might do something terrible to Lucia.

Not without reason.

I wasn’t exactly known for showing mercy in my actions.

If I wanted to, I could kill all four of them, excluding myself.

Starting with my wife and ending with Casia.

I could snap my wife’s neck so quickly she wouldn’t even realize she was dying. For Simon, I’d throw a dagger before he could finish casting a spell.

And for the elf sisters, I’d bind them with Behde and stab them one by one until they died.

I completed this thought in the blink of an eye, feeling nothing about it.

A murderer, huh.

It’s true, actually.

A fact I can’t deny.

I was a truly wicked person who could kill innocent people for my own benefit and satisfaction.

And I was also the most powerful among this group.

“Lucia.”

“W-what?”

When I looked at her, Lucia’s previously playful expression hardened.

She probably sensed vaguely that I wouldn’t let this slide so easily.

“Let me ask you first, what were you expecting with that question just now?”

“Well… obviously I expected an answer! From Raisha.”

“I see. And would you have been satisfied with that answer?”

“Well… I…”

Lucia couldn’t continue.

Her rude remark wasn’t made with the intention of being disrespectful.

It just popped into her head, and she blurted it out without thinking.

Literally, it could be dismissed as the kind of cute, minor mistake that children often make.

Considering the average maturity level of elves, one could interpret that she didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward me.

Well, for someone like me who once worked at an orphanage, this kind of inductive reasoning wasn’t particularly extraordinary.

“As you said, I am a murderer. I’ve killed so many that it wouldn’t be strange if a child who once plowed fields came at me with a hoe and rake, claiming I killed his father.”

“Then…”

“But if that’s the case, you should have considered that you were provoking a murderer’s temper.”

“…”

“Lucia.”

“…”

“Lucia. Look me in the eyes.”

As I pressed her, Lucia reluctantly met my gaze.

I looked at her with ordinary eyes.

But even that seemed too much for her, and she eventually squeezed her eyes shut.

Then, she shouted:

“Fine! I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry! Is that enough?”

“No.”

“Hic…”

When I cut her off sharply, fear crept into her face.

Casia gripped her horse’s reins with a pale face, and Simon clutched his staff just in case.

And Raisha, perhaps feeling it wasn’t her place to intervene as my wife, simply remained silent.

“Get off your horse.”

“…And if I refuse?”

“Get down.”

Words have power.

When soldiers say, “This is a restricted area,” civilians, unless drunk, will avoid that path.

This is because words are a means of conveying information, and people know that their subsequent actions are determined by what that information contains.

In the example above, soldiers are armed and trained members of an official state organization, and there’s the information—the fear—that disobeying their orders will result in legal consequences.

But it’s different with children.

Just as purity can sometimes be the most cruel, their empty minds lack fear.

And the absence of fear is by no means courage.

If we were to classify it as a type of courage, it would be closer to recklessness.

“…”

*Clack. Thud.*

At my forceful command, Lucia dismounted with gritted teeth, and I did the same.

Now there was nothing between her and me, and she had no power to stop whatever action I might take.

“Imagine you’re a parent.”

“…”

“If your child approaches a fire, what would you do?”

“Well…”

She glanced at me nervously, but soon decided it was pointless and continued.

“I’d pull the child away. Then tell them not to go near it.”

“Why?”

“Fire is… dangerous.”

“Would your child have approached the fire knowing that?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because… children don’t know fire is dangerous.”

“Why?”

Lucia gritted her teeth.

By this point, it would be harder not to catch on.

But I wasn’t going to stop.

In this world, there’s the golden rule and empathy, and if one cannot think from another’s perspective, life in society will be very difficult.

Of course, that doesn’t matter if you’re stronger than society, like me.

“Because they haven’t been burned by fire before…”

“Exactly. Memories are stored through experience, and the ones that remain until the very end are those caused by pain.”

“Pain…”

“Yes, pain. The pain of being humiliated, or being severely ill. What’s commonly called ‘shame.’ Experiences of slipping on things that could have been avoided, overcome, or surpassed if known in advance accumulate and form the foundation of your mind under the name of memory.”

She placed her hand on her machete.

In a normal party, this would be alarming, but she was a ranger and couldn’t even use Aura, making her charcoal grade, while I was an Aura user and an Errantry Knight, wearing full plate armor.

“That’s evasion. Don’t try to block with a rake what should be blocked with a hoe.”

“Ugh…”

At my stern warning, she gritted her teeth and removed her hand from the scabbard.

After a brief moment, I asked her:

“Who am I?”

“Victor Walker.”

“What kind of person am I?”

Not a question about “who” but about “what.”

She couldn’t answer easily.

The same was true for me.

She didn’t know about me, and I didn’t know about her.

“The Sun Knight. Raisha’s husband. The leader of the Iron Walker party.”

“Then was the question you just asked earlier appropriate to ask the partner of the collective elements you just described?”

She clenched her fist and shook her head.

Perhaps because she was over sixty, she showed no signs of crying.

That was fortunate for me.

At least she wasn’t trying to absolve her guilt with tears.

“I’ve shown you many favors. You must be aware of that.”

She silently nodded.

“The equipment you’re wearing. And the spatial storage you’ve imprinted, along with the food stored inside. Especially the alcohol you like. All of that came from my money.”

“But…!”

“Don’t even think about claiming you have a share. I am the party leader, and you are a party member. I distributed what ‘I thought’ was appropriate for you from the amount I received for the missions I decided on.”

It was a harsh statement for the elf sisters, but their position in this party was ambiguous.

Simon could also serve as a ranged dealer to some extent, and he was an indispensable member as the party’s spiritual pillar and sage.

I was the party leader, and Raisha was my wife, so there was no need to explain further.

If they weren’t here, that would be fine too. I might miss having them around, but we wouldn’t be unable to complete our missions without them.

They must have vaguely sensed that they were replaceable.

“As the leader of Iron Walker, I will discipline a party member who has challenged the leader’s authority; as a knight commissioned by the Relief Order, I will punish the crime of speaking out of turn; and as a woman’s husband, I will execute punishment on one who has damaged the honor of her marriage. If anyone objects, speak now.”

No one raised their hand.

I nodded slightly, then grabbed Lucia’s hair and smashed her face with my fist.

*Thud.*

Her face crumpled like cardboard, and Lucia began to convulse, scattering the bones and flesh that had composed her pretty face onto the ground.

Casia had already dismounted and was trembling, clutching a potion in her hand while looking at me, and I nodded to permit treatment.

As Lucia’s completely shattered face dangled loosely, Casia forcibly opened her maxilla and mandible to pour the potion down her esophagus. Lucia’s body, convulsing from extreme pain, gradually calmed down, and soon her vanished face began to regenerate thanks to the power of the high-grade potion.

In just three minutes, her face was perfectly regenerated, and Lucia, breathing heavily, stood up with her sister’s support.

Then she shuddered at the sight of the flesh and bones that had once formed her face, still scattered on the ground.

“I hope you’ve learned a lesson from this. Elf sisters.”

At my heavy voice, the two elves nodded, trembling with fear.