"Butler Hassent."
"Yes, Young Master Sung Yujin."
Though I hadn't called out loudly, Hassent responded and approached immediately, indicating he had overheard the entire conversation.
"Butler, please... forget everything you just heard."
For now, I wanted to silence Hassent with words alone. There was no way to completely silence him at this moment.
"Understood," Hassent replied calmly, as always. I wanted to trust him, but I couldn't do so without proper justification.
Hassent wasn't my man. I would either have to slowly cultivate him into one or kill him at the appropriate moment.
Nothing about this is easy.
Even in the original story, Hassent's true desires remained a mystery.
Killing? As a former master of assassins, that couldn't be his only motivation.
I'll gift him listening devices and transmitters like Kyle did, and monitor him until an opportunity arises.
I headed toward the back of the treehouse where Yuria was hiding. As expected, Hassent followed me.
"Young Master Sung Yujin."
"Yes, what is it?"
I stopped and turned to face Hassent. The old butler's expression remained unreadable, as if concealing his thoughts.
"Later... would you grant me some of your time?"
A request for a private meeting.
I was surprised. I hadn't expected Hassent to make such a direct request himself. He had always acted passively.
I couldn't fathom why Hassent had requested a private meeting. What could he possibly gain from me?
He wouldn't be foolish enough to try killing me. Extort money through threats? I couldn't imagine Hassent stooping to such a foolish act.
"Understood. I'll make time for you shortly," I replied. Soon, I would uncover Hassent's true motives.
I quickened my pace toward Yuria.
Behind the house, Yuria Grace was hiding behind a stack of firewood. As soon as she saw me, she lowered her head.
"I am Yuria Grace."
"And I am Sung Yujin Pruker, your master."
I introduced myself again as I approached her.
To be honest, I was a little disappointed.
In the original novel, Yuria is described as a stunning beauty, flawless in both face and figure. Her large breasts are specifically mentioned.
I can understand it. That description refers to Yuria's appearance in the latter half of the novel, some time from now.
But... can she really transform into the breathtaking beauty described in the story?
The current Yuria was taller than me, about a head taller. Given her age, this was natural.
Moreover, my character was sickly, meaning my growth would naturally be slower than others.
She's so skinny you can see her bones. It wouldn't be surprising if she starved to death any day now... Yet her eyes still burn with life.
Her body was even more emaciated than the thinnest models seen overseas in the real world. She looked like a patient suffering from anorexia.
Even the beggars in the city wouldn't be this gaunt.
This was understandable, given the poverty of Artel Village. Come to think of it, her mother, Nell Lins's corpse, had also been remarkably thin.
Since Nell Lins was a former knight, she must have mastered mana breathing techniques.
If she had properly mastered mana breathing, her true condition might be far more dangerous than her appearance suggested.
And her chest is flatter than an A-cup completely flat.
It seemed like her secondary characteristics should have developed long ago. Feeling a growing distrust of the original work, I approached her.
Her skin is so pale. She must not have done much fieldwork. Could she have barely left the house at all?
It was rare to see commoners with such fair skin. In commoner families, children worked from a young age, even before their coming-of-age ceremony, handling everything from simple household chores to fieldwork.
Aside from being too thin, she doesn't seem to have any illnesses or injuries.
I reached out my hand toward Yuria.
Yuria looked at my hand but didn't flinch or pull away.
Without changing her expression, she calmly accepted my hand. I admired her clear understanding of her position.
A handful of Yuria's dry, gray hair rested in my palm. I rubbed the strands between my fingers, dislodging the gray ash that clung to them and revealing her true cyan-blue hair beneath.
She had concealed her natural hair color by coating it with ash.
Cyan-blue hair and blue eyes the hallmark of the Helbrit family's direct line. She is Yuria Grace.
Of course, having cyan-blue hair and blue eyes didn't automatically mean someone belonged to the Helbrit Family. This fantasy world teemed with people of every imaginable hair color, from pink to purple.
Even in Pters City, where Count Prucus's mansion stood, one could easily find at least thirty people with cyan-blue hair and blue eyes.
"Yuria."
"Yes, Master."
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to hide for a while."
"I'm used to it."
I briefly returned to reality and retrieved a large black blanket and coat from my inventory, draping them over her.
I intended to keep Yuria's existence a complete secret from the Plum Knights. I wished I could do the same with Hassent, but that was impossible.
"Stay here."
"Yes."
I turned to look at Hassent, who was watching me silently.
"Butler, about this..."
"Yes, I saw nothing."
"..."
His cooperation would be beneficial, though I couldn't trust him.
The knights must have finished clearing out the bandits by now. I should join the cleanup; it'll be easier to manipulate things that way.
I headed toward the center of Artel Village with Hassent.
The twenty Plum Knights who had captured the entire Pfrek Bandit Gang were all smoking, enjoying their cigarettes.
As I approached, Hent flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and said with a confident expression, "As you wished, Master Yujin. All thirty-two bandits have been captured alive."
"Well done, Sir Embis. Were there any casualties or escapes?"
"What do you take us for? Not a single escapee, and none killed by our hands.
However, some bandits were killed by the villagers before we arrived."
I nodded, listening to his report.
"Were any of the knights injured?"
My casual question instantly froze Hent's expression.
"Master Yujin, that's an insult to us. Do you really think we could be injured by mere bandits?"
"...My apologies. That was a slip of the tongue."
"It's quite alright. It's been a while since our last real combat, so I reacted a bit too sensitively."
"As an apology, let's have Korean barbecue for dinner tonight. It'll be a delightful Samgyeopsal party."
Time to ride the Otherworld Korea hype train.
"Korean barbecue...? Samgyeopsal? What's that?"
"Didn't I explain Korea to you before? It was a nation that existed in ancient times."
"Yes, I heard that chicken and ramen are Korean dishes."
"Korean Samgyeopsal is every bit as good as chicken and ramen. You can look forward to it. If you love meat, you might even prefer it to chicken."
Hent swallowed hard, his thoughts obvious. He was undoubtedly recalling the flavors of chicken and ramen.
"...To think it rivals chicken and ramen... Korea never ceases to amaze me."
"Indeed. Korea boasts an exceptional food culture. Mukbang wouldn't have become so popular otherwise."
"Mukbang...? What's that?"
"It's a type of food-related broadcast."
I gave a vague explanation. Since the concept of broadcasting didn't exist in this world, a proper explanation was impossible.
Afterward, I surveyed the captured bandits. They were tightly bound with ropes, most with broken limbs, completely disarmed, and stripped down to simple clothing.
Among them, I focused on a red-haired man with all four limbs broken, a gag in his mouth, and his left ear missing. This was Pfrek.
Pfrek glared at me with murderous intensity, his eyes burning with hatred.
"Such a defiant gaze. I like it."
I smirked.
I wanted to show them exactly what an Eagle Soccer Kick was, but I restrained myself. Dealing with these bandits wasn't my responsibility; it was Yuria's.
"Master Yujin, shouldn't we just kill them? They're already condemned to death anyway," Hent suggested. His logic was sound.
The bandits had been caught red-handed. If I executed them, no one would object. I was the son of a great lord, and they were mere bandits.
"No. These are the ones who violated the Prucus Territory Edict. We can't simply kill them."
"...Master Yujin, you're surprisingly ruthless."
"Do you think my decision was wrong?"
"Not at all. It's the right one. As a direct descendant of the Prucus Family, you've made the correct choice. No one will criticize you for this."
"Those are pleasant words. Are all the villagers dead?"
"Nine women and three men survived a total of twelve people. It seems the bandits intended to capture and sell them as slaves. They've been gathered over there."
I glanced in the direction Hent indicated.
A group of poorly dressed commoners was huddled there.
Their beauty was unremarkable, and their emaciated bodies made it doubtful they'd fetch much as slaves.
"What shall we do with them?"
"Leave them be. They'll manage on their own."
I lost interest in them immediately. I had no intention of taking them in, nor any reason to.
"As for the corpses in the village... let's have them cremated separately. It'll be a nuisance, but would you gentlemen assist?"
"Yes, of course."
In this world, commoners cremate their dead. While rumors persist that monsters and beasts come to devour corpses, the primary reason for cremation is to prevent the dead from rising as Undead.
Since Undead pose a threat to the living, burning corpses immediately upon death has become the established practice.
"We'll gather them all for cremation," the knight said.
"...No. I apologize, but please cremate each family separately. We must show at least minimal respect for the dead."
"Understood. They will surely be grateful for Master Yujin's mercy."
The knights began to move.
Of course, there was a reason for ordering separate cremations.
"Butler."
"Yes, Master Yujin. Shall I prepare a suitable corpse?"
Hassent understood my unspoken intentions.
I would find a suitable corpse to disguise Yuria's death, and the surviving villagers and knights would serve as witnesses.
"...I'm counting on you."
"Yes, it's not a difficult task."
With the village in such chaos, smuggling out a corpse would be easy. For the disguise, we could mutilate the body and cover it with cloth, making identification nearly impossible.
Hassent quietly began to move.
I stepped back slightly, standing still as I watched them work.
Several knights were guarding the bandits, while the villagers assisted in cremating the corpses.
Afterward, the villagers' wails mingled with the rising smoke from scattered fires.
Before cremating the corpses disguised as Nell Lins and Yuria, I addressed the surrounding villagers.
"Does anyone know this woman's name? Several bandits died by her hand. She possessed remarkable swordsmanship."
The commoners exchanged nervous glances. I frowned. Was such a simple question so difficult to answer?
Sensing the tense atmosphere, a woman quickly spoke up.
"I... I heard her name was Kellia, sir."
"...Heard?"
"W-well, our village is a bit... peculiar. We don't have much interaction with our neighbors, sir."
I understand.
This village is a refuge for fugitives. It's only natural for them to distrust even their neighbors.
Nell Lins was a wise woman. She never revealed her true name to the villagers and likely wouldn't have trusted others in similar circumstances easily.
How did Duke Helbrit manage to track down Nell Lins's trail?
After a moment's thought, I spoke.
"I see. There was a dead woman in the house. Was she this woman's daughter?"
"Yes. I heard she had a daughter with leprosy. Her name was La... Lara, I think."
"The corpse was severely disfigured. Does anyone remember Lara's face?"
"Since she had leprosy... I never saw her leave the house."
I nodded.
In this world, leprosy isn't the terrifying disease it was in the Middle Ages. The Magic Tower sells a cure, but its high price makes it inaccessible to the poor and destitute.
Nell Lins had hidden Yuria remarkably well. She was truly a wise woman.
This makes things easier.
The villagers knew nothing. Even if Duke Helbrit tortured them, they wouldn't be able to extract any information about Yuria.
As I cremated Nell Lins' body, I glanced back at the place where Yuria was hiding.
What must she be thinking, watching her mother's cremation from afar?