Chapter 757: Chapter 757: Hostage (2)

Drrrrrrrrrng—! Drrrrrrrrrrrrrng—!

The thunderous snoring, reminiscent of an ogre, echoed endlessly like background noise throughout the underground vault of the now-defunct Alminus Bank.

Amelia, watching over Ainard, let out a sigh.

Not out of frustration or disappointment, of course.

‘Did they drug her...?’

It would make sense—after all, they’d had a fairly long conversation right next to her, and yet she hadn’t stirred at all.

There was no other explanation except that they had sedated her—

“Kh... kuh...”

Just then, Ainard began to show signs of labored breathing, and Amelia hurried over.

If she couldn’t breathe on her own, Amelia needed to step in.

But it didn’t come to that.

“Uuuugh...”

Ainard just scratched her belly with one hand, then turned to her side as if her shoulder was stiff.

And then...

Drrrrrrroooooooonnnnng—!!

Even louder snoring filled the room.

Watching her, Amelia started to wonder if she hadn’t been drugged after all and was just... actually sleeping.

‘No way... there’s no way, right...?’

I mean, sure, she was a barbarian, but even so—how could she be that relaxed when her life was on the line?

“Um... shouldn’t we wake her up now...?”

“How? Ainard Prnelin is currently sedated.”

“...Ah. Is that so?”

Auyen nodded as though he’d just realized something.

Though in the background, the infamous disgrace of a son, Eltora Tertherion, could be heard muttering, “Sedated...? I don’t recall any such report...”

But Amelia pretended not to hear.

After all, blaming it on drugs was less humiliating.

Not that they were in such a rush they needed to wake her up right now or anything.

“Um... may I continue what I was saying?”

As Eltora cautiously brought the conversation back, Amelia, who had turned her attention to Ainard, sharpened her focus again.

“Where were we?”

Her reply was cold, and her eyes held deep suspicion.

Naturally so.

Eltora Tertherion, the son of the Marquis, claimed he was abandoning his father to join them.

After a long conversation, Amelia had come to accept that it wasn’t due to brainwashing.

But understanding the truth and believing it were two different things.

Right. So—

“I was speaking of what benefits the royal family and the Anabada Clan would gain if they accepted my proposal.”

“Ah, right... well, forget it.”

Amelia showed no interest in those “benefits.”

Or more accurately, she saw no need to hear them right now.

I mean, really—being able to use the Marquis’s son as a spy?

Anyone with half a brain could list the strategic value of that in a single sentence. No need to waste breath on it.

Amelia chose to focus on something else.

“Why are you betraying your father?”

Motivation.

The thing that drives people to act.

“...As I said earlier, my biggest reason is survival.”

“So you think the royal family will win the war?”

“Of course. Rebelling against them in the first place was utter madness.”

It sounded rational on the surface.

But Amelia knew better.

All people have desires—and even the smallest of desires can blind them completely.

“But if your side wins, you'd basically be living like a prince.”

Humans are strange like that—they’ll ignore ninety-nine reasons to fail and cling to the one reason they might succeed.

So how had the Marquis’s son made such a decision? From the looks of it, he’d made up his mind almost the instant his father collapsed.

How?

The answer was surprisingly simple.

“...No way. Even if the rebellion had succeeded, I wouldn’t have survived. My father—no, Marquis Ageni Rotten Tertherion—was someone who wanted to get rid of me the moment he could.”

“I don’t understand. Why would the Marquis treat his only son that way?”

“I didn’t understand at first, either. It wasn’t until much later that I figured it out. The Marquis treated me like that... because he knew who I really was.”

“...Who you really were?”

In response to Amelia’s question, Eltora gave a bitter smile.

He wasn’t a barbarian, but this time, there was no need for a long explanation.

“...I’m a spirit-born.”

A confession—possibly the first of his life.

“Huh. Saying it out loud is easier than I thought.”

His heart pounded, but along with the thrill, there was an odd sense of relief.

Of course, that was only true for Eltora.

“......!!”

Auyen Rockrove, the man who had managed to assassinate the Marquis with nothing but a commoner’s body, gaped in shock at the revelation that the Marquis’s son was a spirit-born.

“...Oh?”

Even Amelia Rainwales—the seasoned assassin, expert at hiding emotion—let a flicker of surprise show in her gaze.

Now things made more sense.

If that was true, then Eltora Tertherion’s betrayal wasn’t strange or sudden at all.

If anything, it was logical.

But...

“At this point, you could say I’ve willingly handed you my leash. Can you trust me now?”

Even then, Amelia didn’t nod.

Because of her nature—she simply wasn’t good at trusting people.

A confession was just that. It wasn’t proof.

What if even this “I’m a spirit-born” was a lie?

She hadn’t blindly trusted him, but fortunately, she had a way to verify it.

“A metal object that flies through the sky.”

“Airplane.”

“A dwarf gives a poisoned apple to a princess and she dies. What’s the princess’s name?”

“Are you... talking about Snow White?”

“Sponge who wears square pants.”

“Sponge... wait, how do you know about that?”

“I believe you. You really are a spirit-born.”

Using the otherworld knowledge she’d heard from Lee Hansoo, Amelia gave her final verdict.

Eltora Tertherion was the real deal.

Sure, he’d stammered and failed to answer the “Yi Wan-yong?” question, but that was within the margin of error.

Even people from the same world have gaps in their knowledge.

Clearly, Eltora hadn’t been well-educated.

The thought reminded Amelia of her own time under Noark’s regime, where learning had been out of reach.

She felt an unexpected sense of kinship with him—but chose not to voice it.

“...What’s with that look?”

“Nothing.”

“So then, does that mean you believe everything I’ve said?”

“Yeah. My doubts are gone.”

Hearing that, Eltora felt a strange kind of joy.

He had finally proven himself, after showing everything and answering every question—even to someone as suspicious as Amelia.

But—

“Then... will you accept me now?”

Perhaps due to a lingering unease, he asked again.

And received a devastating answer.

“That... unfortunately, isn’t up to me.”

“Not up to you...? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. The leader of the Anabada Clan is Yandel, and the deputy leader is another woman.”

“What the hell...!!”

Eltora felt even more wronged than he had when his father abandoned him with no explanation. And with his life on the line, his frustration exploded.

“That doesn’t make any sense! I know all about your group!”

“Even so—”

“You’re Yandel’s woman, aren’t you?!”

“...Huh?”

“I heard Yandel trusts and relies on you more than anyone! That no matter what, he always asks you first for advice! And you say you don’t have the authority?”

“Uh... well, not quite that much...”

“You and Yandel are practically one and the same!”

“Uhh...?”

“So if you’re going to reject me, just say it straight! Don’t pretend you don’t have the authority! Everyone knows that if Baron Yandel ever marries, you will be his wife!”

“...H-His wife?!”

“Who else could it be? That lunatic blood mage? Kalstein, who’s only useful for her early contributions? Raven, who joined the royal family ages ago? Or maybe that musclebound lancer over there?”

“I-I never thought about it that way—”

“Don’t give me that ‘no authority’ crap! I know how much Yandel treasures you!”

Maybe it was the overwhelming stress of betraying his own father with his life on the line.

Whatever the case, Eltora was swept up in emotion and poured out his frustration.

And then—

“...Approved.”

He got what he wanted.

***

Ainard Prnelin lay quietly, eyes closed, deep in thought.

‘Is it time to get up...?’

The truth was, she hadn’t just woken up.

She’d come to a while ago—but pretended to still be asleep.

For a very simple reason.

[Ah, right... well, forget it.]

She’d heard Amelia’s voice right away.

Which meant what she hoped was true—her comrades had come to rescue her.

Naturally, Ainard had been overjoyed.

But then—

[Ainard Prnelin is currently sedated.]

She’d already been educated once on what that meant—it was basically code for “Stay down.”

So she kept her eyes shut.

Didn’t seem like the situation was too urgent, anyway.

No real evidence for that, just a gut feeling.

But for barbarians, knowing when to lie down—or when to eat meat—came just as naturally.

Anyway, that’s what happened.

But then...

[Where were we?]

[I was speaking of what benefits the royal family and the Anabada Clan would gain...]

Amelia was deep in conversation with some unknown man. As she listened, Ainard realized he was the Marquis’s son.

And...

‘Ugh... my head...’

A headache hit her for some reason.

So she decided to keep pretending to sleep a little longer.

“......”

“......”

Silence fell as the conversation ended.

‘...Guess it’s time to wake up.’

Sensing her cue, Ainard yawned like nothing was wrong and sat up.

And then—

“Ah, please don’t be alarmed! I’m now on your side—”

Thwack—!

Before he could finish, she socked him in the face with full force.

“...Stop. He’s one of us now.”

As expected, Amelia intervened.

Only then did Ainard calm down.

“Oh, really? Sorry! Didn’t know!”

Actually... she had known.

She’d heard it all while lying there.

So why had she punched him?

Even she wasn’t sure.

“Hmm...”

It had been a long time since Ainard seriously contemplated something.

But being the clever girl she was raised to be, she soon found the answer.

[I heard Yandel trusts and relies on you the most.]

Maybe it was a lie?

Didn’t matter.

Humans lie all the time. That’s just what they are.

[If Baron Yandel ever marries, everyone knows you’ll be his wife.]

How could the great warrior’s wife be a human?

Same idea.

Humans didn’t know any better.

[Or maybe that musclebound lancer?]

It sounded like a compliment—

But somehow, it still stung.

Still, that wasn’t the answer either.

‘It’s just...’

It was just because.

“Beheeeeeell—raaaaaaaaagh!!!”

“...Seriously?”

“I just felt like it!!”

That was Ainard’s carefully considered conclusion.