At dawn, before the sun had fully risen, Aint was already up and heading out.
— What did I tell you?
"You told me to read the contract thoroughly and be careful not to get scammed."
— Right, keep that in mind. The Pellenberg bastards are the kind who'll steal your nose if you close your eyes for a second!
"Is there really a need to worry that much? I mean, it's like I'm handing them the knife and offering my own neck."
— That's where you're wrong. It might not be just your nose—you could lose your head. Pellenberg doesn't just exploit weaknesses—they tear them wide open.
With Gardener Alpenfarsen's constant warnings and the ominous rumors about the Pellenberg family spreading in the background, Aint grew increasingly tense.
"Whew… Just hearing all this makes it sound like I'm about to fight a demon."
— Not quite. No matter how bad Pellenberg is, they're still human. Demons are far worse.
"…So are demons that terrifying, or is Pellenberg just not as scary as I thought?"
You'll see soon enough.Aint carefully opened the door to the tavern. It was a shop owned by the Golden Turtle Merchant Group, just as Fernan had mentioned.
A sealed room, hidden from outside eyes.
"I've written down all of your conditions. Read through it carefully."
Aint swallowed dryly as he took the contract Fernan handed over.
[Adamantite Sales Contract][Aint Armian and Fernan Pellenberg agree to the following sales contract for Adamantite, to be executed in mutual trust.][Aint Armian shall be referred to as Party A, Fernan Pellenberg as Party B.]
1. Party A shall sell 70kg of Adamantite to Party B. The 70kg of Adamantite shall hereafter be referred to as "the goods."2. Party B shall compensate Party A for the goods with...
Though the contract spanned several pages, the key points were simple:
Aint would hand over the Adamantite to Fernan.In return, Fernan would pay with equipment made from Adamantite, money, and discreet sponsorship.
— No hidden traps. Looks fine to sign.
'That's quite different from all your earlier stern warnings.'
— Because, strangely enough, this contract matches all your demands exactly.— Even so, I can't invent a problem where there isn't one.
After confirming that everything he'd requested was correctly included, Aint signed the contract.
"I mean, it's good for me, but… aren't you getting the short end of the deal? This price seems way too cheap for Adamantite."
Fernan asked, tucking one of the contract copies away.
"Then it's good for you, isn't it, senior?"
"It is, but I'm not naïve enough to be happy over a deal that's too generous without reason—even as a merchant."
"You gave me the Saintbird's Heart, didn't you? That alone is worth quite a bit."
The Saintbird's Heart was a potion as rare and valuable as Adamantite. When Gardener had suggested he visit Fernan, Aint hadn't expected to receive something so precious.
Of course, that wasn't the sole reason he was selling the Adamantite at such a low price.
"Even if I have it, I don't currently have the ability to use it properly…"
"If you had auctioned it, you could have sold it for far more."
"I don't have the strength to protect it."
Though the Armean family was once royal and still respected by many, that was all it had left. Adamantite was a treasure noble enough to reignite ambitions—and provoke new threats against a fallen royal bloodline.
"From my perspective, it's best to deal with it before rumors start spreading."
"What if I just killed you and took everything?"
"You could, I suppose. But you did give me the Saintbird's Heart, didn't you?"
A treasure possibly more valuable than Adamantite—offered without expecting anything in return.
Why would someone like that suddenly take a risk for relatively cheap Adamantite? Aint didn't think he would.
— And the fact that a contract was signed at all means he's also taking on risk.
— The seal of the merchant group's leader is on it. If he breaks the deal, I just have to make the contract public. He wouldn't want that, so he'll tread carefully.
Pellenberg placed high value on trust. They might exploit loopholes in contracts, but they never broke them outright.
"So you handed it over while willingly taking a loss, huh."
Tap tap—Fernan drummed his fingers on the table, then nodded.
"I understand."
It was a convincing explanation.
Even the bit about trusting him because of the Saintbird's Heart.
That item was considered one of the finest even among the many elixirs stored in the Pellenberg family's vaults.
If Aint weren't someone destined to save the world from demons, he'd never have received it.
"At least I won't have to worry about getting stabbed in the back."
"Thank you."
"And choosing me as your business partner was an excellent decision."
A smile tugged at the corner of Fernan's lips.
"If anything, I'd help you—not sell you out or try to eliminate you, like you said."
Absolutely not.
Fernan emphasized it once more.
— What the hell is with this lunatic? Did he get high just from seeing the Adamantite?
Maybe the Adamantite earned us his favor?
— That's not the only reason, I think.
From Aint and Gardener's perspective—who knew nothing about the prophecy—Fernan's attitude made little sense.
It had been a satisfying deal.
Fernan had already planned to support Aint in every way possible, but what merchant would dislike buying something for far less than it was worth?
"To think giving him the Saintbird's Heart would turn out like this."
This deal had only come about because the Saintbird's Heart had earned Aint his goodwill. If he hadn't handed that over, Aint likely never would've told anyone he had Adamantite to begin with.
"Money really is everything."
If his family hadn't had money, there'd have been no Saintbird's Heart to give. And naturally, none of this would be happening now.
That's what he was thinking when—
"…Ghhk?"
—!
A massive explosion erupted in his mind.
Fernan immediately recognized it. It was the same as what he had experienced before.
Clutching his head, he collapsed onto the bed as a flood of memories surged into his brain.
["So, Aint. What do you think? Want to join the club with me too?"
"Club?"
"Yeah. Some upperclassmen invited me. I think it was a yacht club or something. Said we meet once a month on a yacht to socialize."]
["So, you're Aint, huh."
A man who naturally seated himself at the head of the table was watching him.
Aint bowed his head.
"Your Highness, Prince."
"Come now, within the academy, we're all just students. No need for such formality."
— What are you doing, Aint! A descendant of Armian bowing to the likes of him?!*]
[There were too many to count. Like waves crashing in.
"Monsters!"
"Why are monsters here?!"
"The boat's rocking! Turn the yacht back to the academy immediately!"
But the yacht, contrary to their cries, continued off course.]
[— Behind you, Aint!
Gardener's voice made Aint twist his body urgently. But the enemy was faster.
Crack!
The dagger pierced through his armor and stabbed into his chest. A sharp pain exploded, followed by a sinister, toxic energy.
"Ghhk…!"
— That's demonic energy?! This bastard's a servant of the demon!
Aint saw his attacker's face. If his memory served, it was one of the crew working on the yacht.
"Die, Armian."
The crewman's eyes gleamed with an eerie black light.]
["…This is…"
— Light dispels darkness and annihilates demonic energy.
— Poison made of demonic energy is nothing before the light of Armian.
— Is this what they call a blessing in disguise? He's awakened the power of light. What he'll gain next will shine even brighter.]
["Do you think Pellenberg was involved?"
— If they knew, they're traitors to humanity. If they didn't, then they're more incompetent than expected.]
"Urrraaaagh…!"
Unable to withstand the shock, Fernan blacked out on the spot.
He was absent from all his lectures that day.
"…Uncanny. No sooner is one prophecy fulfilled than the next begins."
Drenched in sweat, Fernan threw off the blanket and reached for a glass of cold water. As the cool liquid slid down his throat, his thirst eased slightly.
"This is the third time now."
And even now, he still couldn't get used to the pain. The burning sensation in his brain was too intense. To grow accustomed to that would be unnatural.
"The ocean, this time, huh? That damn Aint really brings disaster wherever he goes."
Was it because he was destined to become the hero who defeats the demons and saves the continent?
Or did disasters follow him, allowing him to become a hero?
"Yacht club, huh…"
The club was more of a casual gathering where students could build camaraderie.
It was an activity encouraged by the academy, with a wide range of categories—from simple tea time to monster hunting.
"This time, he'll manage just fine on his own, so just le—"
Among them, the yacht club was essentially a small political arena reserved only for students from prestigious families.
"Manny…"
The gatherings were held once a month, and Fernan, who highly valued networking, was of course a member and attended without fail unless something urgent came up.
"There i—is…"
But that wasn't all. It was Fernan who had originally upgraded the club's usual tea-time setting by offering a luxurious yacht, thereby turning the meetings into outings at sea.
"…You're telling me that a demon's servant snuck aboard my yacht disguised as a merchant crew and tried to assassinate Aint?"
Shit. No wonder that bastard Aint is going to be the end of me.
Fernan's face twisted into a vicious grimace.
While Fernan, having just regained consciousness, was still seething at the demons—
Ding-ling—
"Welcome!"
The bookstore owner behind the counter greeted the customer cheerfully.
"Do you have a book called Basics of Cooking?"
"If you're looking for that, check in section C21."
"Thank you."
Following the shopkeeper's directions, the customer searched the area for about five minutes before returning to the counter.
"I don't think it's there!"
"If it's not on the shelves, that means it's sold out. Wait here—I'll check the storage."
The shopkeeper stepped into the back storage room. It was packed with books, and the musty scent of old paper filled the air.
"Let's see here…"
It was then that a dark shadow suddenly rose up behind him.
"Reporting in."
The shopkeeper said nothing as he kept searching through the shelves, but the shadow proceeded with the report.
"Confirmed: Aint Armian never met Berian Kalburden, who went berserk under the influence of demonic energy."
"And?"
"Originally, according to Your Excellency's plan, the defeated Berian Kalburden should have tracked Armian's mana—but someone appears to have intervened."
"Intervened?"
The shopkeeper pulled out a deeply wedged copy of Basics of Cooking.
"We haven't been able to identify exactly who. The traces were thoroughly erased…"
It was because Fernan, anticipating demonic pursuit, had deliberately and perfectly erased any signs.
"So you're saying you failed to identify them?"
"…My apologies. I will attempt another trace."
"No need. If even you're saying that much, then it's probably impossible. Don't push yourself further."
"Understood. I'm sorry."
"So that's why there wasn't any mention of demonic energy. I was wondering."
He lightly brushed the dust off the book.
"There's no way someone knows about us… could it be coincidence?"
If it wasn't coincidence, there was no explanation. To humans, demons were little more than legends—there was no way someone could have preemptively known and disrupted his plan.
It was strange that there was absolutely no mention of demonic energy, but if they didn't even recognize it as demonic energy, then it was understandable.
"Be cautious going forward, but don't obsess over it. There'll be another chance."
"…I'll do my best."
"Aint Armian. We can't just let him be."
For some reason, ever since enrolling in the academy, Aint Armian's growth had been progressing at an unimaginable pace.
The man was convinced this was the work of the First Emperor.
"That cursed bloodline must have set something in motion. It's obvious."
So he couldn't let Aint Armian roam free.
What began as mere observation had turned into something more—after all, the guy who ranked 38th had just defeated Berian Kalburden, who held the 2nd spot. That said everything.
"Yes. That'll do nicely."
"Please give your command."
"Take Aint Armian out to sea. If you succeed, that cursed bloodline will be erased. If you fail, it'll still spark division within the Empire."
"Yes, I shall obey."
"We are not yet ready to confront the Empire directly, so secrecy is paramount. Do not disappoint me again."
At those words, the shadow flinched.
"…Understood. I will not forget."
With a flick of the man's fingers, the shadow vanished.
Alone again, the bookstore owner's previously cold face melted back into a warm smile.
"Here you are, customer—I found Basics of Cooking."