Chapter 45: Liquidation

Silence of Death.

Absolute Silence of Death.

Corbrio’s mouth slowly fell open.

When the words came out of the Hero’s mouth, his heart gave a sudden “thump.”

He knew—he was finished.

There was no way he could survive this today.

[Sorry, Mom, your son has to go back and sew costumes for you again.]

Corbrio pulled a face of utter misery.

Compared to him, Margaret, who was being stared at by the Hero, was utterly bewildered, suspecting she had misheard.

Ananna, face pale as a sheet, simply stood frozen.

[Has Jon gone insane?]

[Otherwise, why would he say such crazy things?]

“You…what did you just say?”

Margaret had to order the Hero to repeat himself, just to make sure she hadn’t hallucinated.

Jon was very easy to reason with.

He immediately obeyed, even breaking the long sentence into parts so the princess’s long-atrophied brain could understand it more easily:

“I said, Your Highness, I came here today to ask you to go and give a sincere apology to the disaster victims.”

Margaret finally understood.

Her raised eyebrows slowly lowered.

“You’re insane?”

She glared coldly at Jon.

“If you do something wrong, you should apologize. If you harm someone, you should be punished. If upholding the right thing means insanity, then the truly mad ones are all of you, are you, Your Highness.”

Jon earnestly tried to reason with this world.

“Wait, Hero, Your Highness…”

Ananna could no longer care about things like “overstepping bounds” or “displeasing the princess.”

The situation had already developed far beyond her expectations.

She had read many books, especially about the dark history before the founding of Kaladia.

She was trembling inside and hurriedly tried to smooth things over:

“Right, Your Highness, didn’t you say you were tired after sword practice and wanted to rest? We…”

But Margaret, face darkening, raised a hand to cut Ananna off.

She shouted angrily:

“I’m not tired! Let me finish talking to him!”

Ananna tried to salvage the situation, but Margaret simply waved her hand, ordering the royal guards to remove her.

Margaret stood up from the flower-vine princess chair, face filled with anger, and stared back at Jon without flinching:

“Apologize? For what? The entire Empire belongs to our family! I requisitioned that grain, and I can sell it high or low as I please. Is it wrong to deal with my own property?”

“Even if the entire Empire belongs to His Majesty, the lives of the disaster victims belong to themselves. You almost starved them to death. Shouldn’t you apologize?”

Jon countered, the princess’s shamelessness didn’t anger him.

Instead, it made him see through her all the more.

Cold, willful, thinking only of herself.

Is His Majesty really going to use her for a political marriage?

Jon couldn’t help but consider what he should do to refuse such a marriage if His Majesty really insisted.

“So what if I harmed them?”

Margaret gritted her teeth, nearly crushing the jade ring on her finger.

“Kaladia was founded by my Ancestors! Without us, these commoners would still be slaughtered and eaten by Demons, Northern Lands Orcs, and rampaging monsters!”

“The only reason they are alive, living good lives today, is because of the grace of our royal family! So what if I take a few?”

“Our blood, drained dry, forged military merit by the Ancestors! That’s glory! That’s courage! If commoners’ blood is drained, what is it? Cowardice! Inferiority! Timid, sneaky, laughable rats!”

But Jon was unmoved by this twisted logic.

He calmly retorted:

“Your Highness, commoners have paid taxes for generations and already repaid the former Emperor’s grace. And you have long since exhausted your Ancestors’ legacy enjoying endless wealth.”

He paused for a few seconds.

Then Jon spoke each word carefully:

“The lives of commoners don’t owe you.”

Margaret choked, suddenly at a loss for words.

Yet, even so, she still thought Jon’s words were laughable, blasphemously absurd.

It had always been like this.

The world had always turned this way.

Where was the logic in nobles apologizing to commoners?

If only the Hero believed so, then it was clear that only the Hero was mad!

Margaret was so overwhelmed by the absurdity that she laughed.

She slumped back in the flower chair, tilting her head to mock:

“So, according to our ‘Hero’, I absolutely must apologize today?”

“Your Highness, you could also consider my words as a notification.”

“What an arrogant tone!”

Margaret slapped the armrest to pieces, her face flushing with rage.

“What, do you plan to lead the refugees to storm the city and seize grain? Jon! Don’t forget you are the Hero! Not some bandit!”

“You don’t need to trouble yourself about the grain, Your Highness.”

Seeing the princess about to explode, Jon felt a strange sense of satisfaction rise inside him.

He continued:

“To be honest, we’re having a small banquet tonight to celebrate everyone’s survival. It’s the perfect occasion for a public apology.”

“I have other matters, and other people to see. I’ll come again at six tonight to invite you. Don’t be late.”

“Fine…”

Margaret’s face turned dark as obsidian.

She gritted her silver teeth, almost spitting out each word by force.

“I’d like to see how you plan to ‘invite’ me tonight!”

“See you in the evening, Your Highness.”

Jon smiled generously.

“Hero.”

Margaret gave a cold warning.

“You’d better understand clearly what you’re doing, and exactly where you stand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

Jon nodded.

His expression was even more serious than when he went to slay the Demon King.

Leaving the City Lord’s residence.

Jon first took Lia for a casual walk.

Whenever he spotted a street food stall, he’d buy a snack and eat as they walked.

At this time of year, even if you lived in the city, unless you had a good job tied to the municipal office or a noble, money was still tight.

So any stall still in business had to have genuine skill behind it.

Eating delicious food, teasing Pupu, the cool breeze like silk at his ears, Jon felt both relaxed and at peace, his steps naturally slowing.

He suddenly realized: it had been a long time since he had felt this comfortable.

The boy who once believed “not a day passed without happiness” had grown up in the blink of an eye, his heart now crowded with worries of his own.

The beloved old hunting bow of youth had been replaced by a rusty ancient Holy Sword.

Still accurate, still old.

Some things changed, some things never did.

Fine rain, like ink, accompanied Jon as he walked a quiet path, grass and trees thickening along the way.

Jon speared the last meatball and popped it into his mouth.

The oily flavor, tinged with the bitterness of rain, burst across his palate—a fleeting happiness.

He hated death, for in dying, you could no longer taste such happiness.

With a flick of magic, the paper bag burned to ash.

Jon chewed quickly, swallowed the minced meat, then rapped on the tall crimson door before him.

“Squeak…”

The door opened.

A nervous little girl peeked out, trembling at the sight of the imposing young man.

The novice prostitute shrank back in fear.

“May I ask…who are you looking for?”

“I’m here to see an Old Friend.”

Jon’s words sounded friendly, but there was not a trace of joy on his face—only cold, deep and sharp as the storm outside.

Rain washed over his face, revealing a blade’s edge beneath.

“Squeak——”

“Bang!”

Jon’s hand shot out like iron tongs, catching the door as the novice prostitute tried to slam it shut in panic.

He gripped the edge of the iron door, speaking slowly and clearly:

“Don’t worry. I’m just here to see the most well-connected, business-savvy… City Lord in Rosi City.”