Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy – Chapter 70

In the Village of Lugen (2)

“You may enter.”

“Thank you.”

Elden Raphelion of the Raphelion Count family.

Notorious as a wastrel, a drunkard, and a battle maniac.

He now carried a new title, the Blood Prince.

Due to his notorious reputation, we were able to enter Lugen Village without much scrutiny.

It was practically as good as having an official pass.

The presence of a high-ranking noble in a remote village of the duchy was extremely rare, which also played a significant role.

Though I thought the guards should at least verify the authenticity of my name as part of their duty, they were too pale and flustered to do so after hearing my name.

Conveniently enough.

Naturally, Remian, who was on my back, was covered with a hooded cloak.

The roar that had echoed when her mask was removed at the Engagement War’s introduction six months ago would have been heard beyond the Northern Territories and even reached the Empire.

Even in a remote village, there would be plenty of people who would recognize Remian, so precautions were necessary.

At least until we thoroughly and clearly understood the current situation.

Until we understood what Duke Logan Winterfell was thinking and what Remian was thinking, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful.

“A typical village, indeed.”

Entering Lugen Village, we first headed to a general store where we could sell monster byproducts.

The general store bore the emblem of the Monster Merchant Guild on its signboard, indicating that it dealt in byproducts.

Foodstuffs were rarely traded here.

The items available for trade were parts that did not spoil or spoiled very slowly, such as teeth, hides, bones, and claws – things that were hard or tough.

“Here’s the guild card.”

I showed the guild card, which only those registered with the Monster Hunter Guild could possess, to the shopkeeper. Rendler then opened the bundle of items we had collected.

These were the byproducts we had gathered during our journey from the mountain village of Slode to here.

“Let’s see here~”

The shopkeeper, a man with a hooked nose, began to check the quantity and condition of the items, accompanied by a unique rhythm that seemed universal, transcending cultures.

“Two red langer hides, sixteen white goblin teeth, three mountain ogre molars, and two giant snake tail rattles. Hmm~”

After tallying up the items, the shopkeeper opened the cash register and handed us 22 silver coins and 5 copper coins.

This amount would be more than enough to last us a fortnight in Lugen Village.

We decided to keep the petrified goblin eyes, a rare byproduct, as they would fetch a much higher price at a city’s general store.

“Do come again~”

Having completed the transaction, we left the general store and rented a lodging for three silver coins.

We rented an entire two-story lodging.

This was for Remian’s sake.

Although it wouldn’t completely shield her from external eyes, it would at least provide some privacy.

We also decided to handle our meals ourselves.

We had the count’s young lady, who was becoming quite the chef.

“I’ll start preparing dinner then!”

The count’s young lady headed to the kitchen while Rachel and I took Remian to the bedroom on the second floor.

We laid her gently on the bed and removed the hooded cloak that had been covering her all this time.

Remian, looking a bit more composed, sat demurely at the edge of the bed.

Unlike in the afternoon, when she couldn’t sit up without support.

I placed some writing materials next to her and handed her a small bell I had bought at the market.

“If you need anything or want to say something, ring this bell.”

It was a small bell with a wooden handle, prepared for Remian, who couldn’t speak properly.

Remian, holding the bell, looked at me with an uncertain expression.

“Please rest.”

I gave her a gentle smile and was about to leave the room with Rachel when the bell rang behind us.

I turned back.

There I saw Remian hurriedly writing something down.

Scribble, scribble.

Soon, Remian held up a piece of paper, the bell’s ringing indicating her urgency. She asked about the morality of our actions.

[Why are you helping me? You said it could be dangerous.]

When people see someone in danger, they naturally want to help.

There are people who run into a car accident to save the injured, those who risk their lives to catch a falling child, people who guide lost elders to their destinations, those who cry out for help when they can’t save someone themselves, and even people who donate their gold hoarded at home during a national crisis.

Most people do not ignore those in danger, knowing it is the right thing to do.

In modern times, the abuse of this duty by those who exploit it and those who turn away after receiving help has eroded humanity, but the instinct to help one’s kind in danger, to preserve the species, is a natural and logical response.

Therefore.

“We are helping because you are in danger.”

I gave her the obvious answer.

With the same heart I had when I handed her the ointment, earning Rachel’s stern look that day.

During the Engagement War, I couldn’t offer more help.

I was a dropout, and as such, there was nothing more I could do.

I didn’t have the power or the right to change anything.

But now, I had the means to offer help, the power, and the right to change things.

So I would help.

“…….”

I gave a light bow to the silent Remian and left the bedroom.

**

“Helping because… I’m in danger…?”

Even after Elden and Rachel had left, Remian sat dazed at the edge of the bed.

Reflecting on Elden’s last words.

In response to her question, hoping that no one would get hurt because of her anymore, Elden had said it was only natural to help those in danger.

There was a time when she had written in her diary.

A tale of Elden’s heroics, having knocked out a burly man who was brutally beating a woman and a child with a single punch during the festival.

It was hard to believe, and she had asked repeatedly, becoming curious about that scene.

She had tried to imagine it, but couldn’t.

All she could imagine was herself being mercilessly beaten by Deron and his group while Elden stood by, watching with disdain.

No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t picture Elden intervening to help strangers.

All she had seen were Elden’s contemptuous eyes as he watched her suffer.

That’s why.

Elden’s smile, saying it was only natural to help those in danger, felt so alien.

Although it was the obvious answer, it sounded strange coming from Elden.

It was also quite peculiar.

How natural and fitting Elden’s response seemed.

That’s why she couldn’t imagine it.

She hadn’t expected it to be so natural and fitting.

“…….”

Remian looked over the soft bed.

Compared to the bed in the ducal castle, it was rough and shabby, but for her now, it was overly luxurious and indulgent.

She stroked the bedspread with her hand before climbing down to the floor.

There was a chill, but after weeks of harsh evasion, this cold felt almost cozy.

The hard floor felt more comfortable than the soft bed.

She crawled on the floor and sat against the wall beside the bed.

As usual, she hugged her knees and buried her head in them.

She felt comfortable.

As if she had returned to where she belonged.

Remian closed her eyes, her head resting on her knees.

In her hand, she held the small bell Elden had given her.

**

The next morning.

After asking Rachel to stay with Remian at the lodging, I headed out with Ariel and Rendler.

Ariel was going to buy medicinal herbs for Remian, and I was going to have my dull sword repaired.

Rendler was looking for a place to buy a small cart.

“That’s the central plaza over there.”

We decided to move together after leaving the lodging.

It was a precaution against any unforeseen events.

After learning that Deron might try to take hostages, it seemed prudent.

Given his lack of physical prowess, he would likely resort to cowardly tactics rather than face us head-on.

As he had done at the academy.

He would try to obtain what he wanted most efficiently and conveniently.

There might not be any immediate danger, and we might never face any danger, but it was better to be cautious.

“Oh! I see the herbalist’s sign!”

Ariel spotted a sign for an herbalist while we were exploring the village, and she headed straight for it.

“Th-thief! Stop that bread thief!”

A sudden shout disrupted our plans.

And right after, something collided with me.

Bam!

The impact was strong, and I staggered, but managed to regain my balance.

“What was that?”

I turned to see what had hit me.

“Nom, nom! Hehe. Bread is so delicious. It’s precious. It’s mine. Hehe.”

A man holding a piece of bread in both hands was happily eating, seemingly oblivious to our collision.

His once rose-red hair was now a dirty brown, matted and tangled, and his face was covered in grime.

His blue eyes had lost their focus and were now cloudy and lifeless.

“There he is! Get that thief!”

The bakery owner was running towards us, brandishing a club and shouting.

Though I should have grabbed the man, seeing him eat the bread so desperately, cheeks puffed from stuffing his mouth, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Nom, nom! Hehe. This bread is delicious. It melts, melts away. He

he.”

The man continued eating as he ran, red hair flying wildly, tattered clothes fluttering, and crumbs scattering everywhere.

“Heheh. Bread is the best. Nom, nom. So delicious. Hehe.”

Though he looked like a deranged beggar, something about him was familiar, and I found myself muttering his name.

“B-Bland…?”

Bland Rosfeld, who had been absent from the parade marking the end of the Engagement War, was now a crazed beggar in the village of Lugen, not far from the duchy.

“Y-yes? Bland…? You mean Lord Bland…?”

“What? That’s Bland…?”

We stood there, dumbfounded, watching Bland run away with a smile, as if he had the whole world with just a piece of bread.

The unexpected reunion was shocking.

Soon after.

Thud! Thud!

“You bastard! Why do you keep stealing from my bakery?!”

Bland was caught by the bakery owner and beaten mercilessly with the club.

Even while curled up on the ground like a shrimp, being beaten, Bland continued to eat the bread, cheeks still puffed.

It was a pathetic fall for the young master of the Rosfeld Marquisate.

“Hehe, delicious. Bread is precious. Nom, nom, nom!”

Of course.

To those unaware of his identity, he was just a deranged bread thief.

“Even now, you’re still eating? You stubborn bastard!”

Thud! Thud!