“The stench of lies is so foul I can’t stand it anymore.”
Evelyn snapped her fingers, and instantly, the sound of gushing blood echoed—“Splat——”. The Hero with the Plough clutched his mouth, but the torrent of blood spewing forth couldn’t be stopped, and he collapsed weakly to the ground, convulsing.
“Ugh, ahhh!”
“B-big brother!”
“Big brother!”
Just then, two burly men burst out from the alley. They were the black-robed members of The Trafficker Gang who had fled earlier. It looked like they’d claimed to go get help, but had actually been stalking them all along.
They frantically slapped Dardou the Hero of the Plough on the shoulders and arms. “Big brother! Are you alright?!”
“Uuagh! Uugh!”
“H-his tongue’s been cut out! That damned witch is using magic! Th-this bitch!”
There was no need for further explanation. Dardou the Hero of the Plough was, in fact, a member of The Trafficker Gang, and all his earlier actions had been a ploy to lure the two into the so-called ‘Hideout’.
Those simple folk, deceived by his feigned kindness and foolishly following him into the Hideout… By now, quite a few must have already fallen for the trap.
It really was a tried-and-true tactic, taking advantage of people’s lowered guard right after being rescued.
However, Erica had long since realized that this so-called hero was no good. When she offered him a reward earlier, he’d refused on the grounds of his Heroic Mission, and at that moment, she’d already caught the scent of suspicion.
Heroic Mission? What’s that, can a hero eat their mission instead of food?
The girl could say with certainty that, in this rotten Half-Withered World, there simply weren’t any hot-blooded fools who would do good for nothing in return. Even if there were, eight or nine out of ten would turn out to be the worst and most dangerous sort of madman.
Oh, and now I have one such lunatic right by my side.
“Don’t insult Erica!”
Evelyn’s hair stood on end as if she’d just touched a static orb, her delicate red lips pressing out a deep growl, and the walls around them shook violently.
“Run!”
“Uaaah! Uaah!”
“Big brother, run! We can’t beat a mage!”
The thugs turned and bolted, revealing their panicked, pathetic backs.
“Pa, pa.”
But as Evelyn snapped her fingers again, a gush of blood suddenly spurted from their ankles, their bodies instantly losing balance as they crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Uwah!”
“Uh, ah! What the hell! My—my ankle!”
With pinpoint accuracy, Evelyn’s psychokinesis had torn their Achilles tendons in an instant, but it was clear she wasn’t satisfied yet. Her clasped hands suddenly flared open, as if she’d seized something from the air, then slowly clenched into fists. At once, the alley rang with tearing noises and feeble, agonized screams.
“Ugh! My chest, my chest!”
“Uh, uh, I—I can’t breathe—!”
When Evelyn’s murderous intent took shape, she was terrifying and utterly irrational. Erica’s reason for not wanting to mingle with these thugs was precisely because she feared this kind of massacre would occur.
“Miss, no, Lady Evelyn! That’s enough, please stop. They’ve lost the will to resist.”
“Erica, are you telling me to deliberately spare these parasites gnawing at my country, these Bandit Gangs who oppress the people?”
“But the hero’s involved, right? The Order of Radiance might pursue the matter.”
“I’m not afraid of any so-called Order.”
It’s you I’m afraid of.
“Aaahhh!”
“Uagh——”
“Ugh, cough, cough…”
Evelyn was still squeezing her fists, and the men’s pig-like screams only grew more harrowing. At this rate, in a few seconds they might stop breathing altogether. And if the hero were to die without concrete evidence or justification, the Order of Radiance would surely send an Inquisitor, which was as good as a death flag!
Thinking back, one reason Evelyn’s royal authority had weakened and eventually collapsed was her deteriorating relationship with the Order. That’s why Erica had to hurriedly deploy her trump card, which she’d been saving for just such a moment.
“Lady Evelyn, why sully your hands with the filthy blood of such lowly scum? Tonight, you’ll have to stay at my house.”
“Erica, at your house? Me?”
“That’s right. It’s already late. Clearly, it’s too late to return to the palace, so resting at my home is the most suitable option. Although, the smell of blood will be hard to get rid of—such a headache.”
“Erica… your house. I’d asked to go before, and you refused, but tonight you’ll let me stay?”
She froze. Evelyn slowly loosened her clenched fists, her hands folding softly together.
Those bandits who’d been howling in agony collapsed like puppets with their strings cut, all falling unconscious to the ground.
“Erica, I’ve always been curious about what kind of place you sleep in.”
The look in Evelyn’s eyes no longer held any hint of plough-armed warriors or traffickers; Erica saw herself reflected there—nothing but the image of a single girl, seen up close.
“Tonight, I’ll finally know what kind of place it is. Hurry up and lead the way.”
“Then, leave these guys to me.”
Evelyn stood aside, looking as excited as a child about to unwrap a present.
“Whoosh——” Erica drew a small stick from her waist, something resembling a blasting fuse. Judging from the sparks it produced, its actual function was quite similar.
She struck a match on the wall and lit the rolled paper fuse. With a “hiss——”, the tip of the stick caught fire. Very soon, it let out a sharp “pew!” as a giant burst of sparkling light exploded in the sky.
This was the signal to summon Evelyn’s Royal Guard. It would take less than a minute for the guards deployed nearby to rush over and clean up these thugs.
This thing was far too conspicuous—she’d hoped to avoid using it.
“So this is Erica’s house? It’s even smaller than I imagined, like a doghouse,” Evelyn commented sharply as she looked at the house on Central Avenue.
Erica knew that by comparing it to a “doghouse”, Evelyn wasn’t trying to insult her, but was merely stating a fact based on her own perspective. After all, Evelyn had never lived outside the palace since birth, always surrounded by grand, majestic buildings.
To be honest, even the doghouses in the palace were ridiculously huge—probably larger than her own home.
Wait, now that I think about it, doesn’t this kind of thing cause revolutions? Right now, Evelyn might well blurt out, “If you don’t have a place to live, can’t you just stay in a doghouse?” or something like that.
After returning to the palace tomorrow, I’ll need to shrink the size of the palace doghouses, and also explain to Evelyn how big the average person’s doghouse really is.
Dammit, why do I have to stress over doghouses?!
At present, though, the bigger problem was that Evelyn was curiously inspecting every nook and cranny of her house. Truth be told, it was nothing more than a bed, a desk, a few books, a wardrobe, and some emergency rations—not exactly the most interesting or comfortable of places…
“So this is where you sleep and wake up every day, Erica?”
Compared to the grand and spacious bedrooms Evelyn was used to, this simple space was hardly worth mentioning, yet she poked around everywhere as if searching for some kind of treasure.
Surely she won’t discover the Cellar’s existence, right?
…Maybe I should distract her first.
“I never expected Lady Evelyn would lower herself to visit such a humble home. Please wait just a moment. Before you go to sleep, I’ll prepare a cup of hot tea for you.”
In truth, Erica hadn’t wanted to let Evelyn into her private space, all because of the Cellar. That’s why, when Evelyn had gently hinted she’d like to visit before, Erica had politely refused.
But she knew in her heart that, one day, Evelyn would simply issue a direct order: ‘I want to go to your house’, and as her subject, Erica would have no way to refuse.
To prepare for this visit, she’d bought a handful of premium tea leaves worth two gold coins, along with an exquisite tea set costing five gold coins. Now, once Evelyn drank this tea—given how easily she got drowsy—she’d be snoring on the bed in no time.
Mmm~ She tasted a sip herself, and for someone with average tea-making skills, this chamomile tea turned out rather well.
‘Come, Your Majesty—’
When the girl finished brewing the tea and walked from the kitchen to the bedroom, she noticed wisps of smoke curling through the air.
Something, as black as burnt ash, was smoldering on the carpet in her bedroom, sending black smoke swirling upwards. The stench of scorching filled the room, and this was definitely not an ordinary burnt smell—this was the distinctive odor of burning protein.
“There was some filthy little animal hiding in your bedroom, so I burned it. Honestly, you really need to move. Starting tomorrow, I want you to live in the palace.”
“Y-you burned it?”