NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 27
Chapter 27: The Samurai is Obstructed
That woman appeared to have an otherworldly presence unlike any ordinary human.
Her skin was pale and cold, reminiscent of porcelain, and her purple eyes shone like glass. Her slender limbs, thin with visible veins, stretched long, and despite her above-average height, her frame was deceptively small. Her stunning beauty was reminiscent of a statue, yet it carried an unsettling artificiality.
“Standing, she is the peony; sitting, the tree peony; walking, the lily”
I recall this expression from a popular poem; she was precisely this ideal.
The woman briefly glanced around before approaching the group with a commanding clatter of her footsteps. She directed her gaze toward the receptionist, who was crouching in discomfort, cradling his still-bleeding right hand.
“Ritt, explain yourself.”
“Gi, Guild Master… It’s just that, actually ──”
As the man tried to describe the situation, the woman’s already unpleasant expression contorted further, amplifying her beauty until it carried a regal and almost terrifying aura.
“In other words, knowing my decision, you still dared to commit such an atrocity… Ritt, you’re fired. Pack your belongings and leave.”
“But that’s ──!”
“I cannot trust someone who does not follow a commander’s decisions. I’m disappointed in you.”
The receptionist’s face became as pale as sheet, but the woman shifted her indifferent gaze to the silent group nearby.
“Each of you present are equally culpable. While mercenaries should be well-versed in the importance of authority’s commands— all of you shall be demoted by two ranks!”
At this verdict, those who had lost fingers rose in protest.
“Hey, hold on a sec!”
“Lady, that’s not fair!”
“Yeah! We were thinking of the Guild’s best interest ──”
Their complaints were abruptly silenced by the harsh sound of a sword sheathing.
“To those with grievances, draw your swords. This is a mercenary guild. The weak do not have the right to speak.”
The training ground fell eerily silent, but a lone male voice tore through the tension.
“While I have no complaints, would drawing my sword earn me a fight?”
With this provoking voice came the entire group’s focus shifting toward Kurosu, who advanced boldly while drawing his sword.
“The fight is between me and these others here, and the matter remains unresolved. What’s the meaning of this grand speech interfering in our duel?”
Kurosu strode forward, sword unsheathed, addressing the intruder.
“You must be the man they speak of. I see, even more reckless than reported ──”
“Mercenaries. I heard their job is to make warfare their profession. And yet…” interrupting her with his anger, he added: “What a disappointing bunch. You rely on strength in numbers, crumble at the first sign of defeat, and lack the resolve for combat or the pride of duels. From top to bottom, you’re an unsatisfactory lot.”
“The splitting of eyes and the standing of hair on end”
With each biting word, he felt an internal heat ignite, rising with his intense emotions. To challenge a duel midstream was a grave sin against the dignity of martial prowess, an unwritten taboo every warrior ought to know, even abroad. It’s a severe insult to samurai honor.
This sense of defilement was unbearable, and his rage grew with the thought. His vision was clouded with red as if he could curse this foolish woman in countless ways and still wouldn’t be satisfied. How could he let her live?
“I am the Guildmaster of the Mercenary Guild, Saria. As the responsible party in this incident, I offer my apologies. I understand it is usually unacceptable to interrupt a duel, but please ──”
“Silence, woman. Enough of your talk.”
Saria threw her sword to the ground and kneeled before Kurosu, bowing her head low. Yet this sudden plea for her life only fueled his wrath further.
Attempting to let her end swiftly, Kurosu raised his sword but paused when Saria’s unexpected request stopped him in his tracks.
“So, I ask, could you put your sword down for the sake of my life alone? Please, let my subordinates off for once.”
“…………”
These words of self-sacrifice hinted at some martial dignity he hadn’t seen before. Peering deeply into her violet eyes, which seemed both as clear as a starry sky and as vast as the ocean depths, he probed her motives. Though he scanned her for signs of deceit or rebellion, he found only resolution, frustration, humiliation, and perhaps, solitude in those eyes – nothing malevolent. His rage subsided gradually as he slowly lowered his blade.
“Enough… you’ve dampened the mood. Normally, I’d demand you to end your own life, but my companions have advised me not to kill those who interfere. Thus, I accept your apology, but expect no repeat offenses.”
Sheathing his sword with a sharp ‘snap’, Kurosu turned his fierce gaze onto the mercenary group.
“I’ve warned you. This time, it ended with only fingers, but next time, heads will roll. If you have the guts, challenge me again—be it in duel or surprise attack. It makes no difference to me.”
Suddenly sobering from his earlier adrenaline rush, Kurosu felt the same annoyance as witnessing a ridiculous performance, much like when unexpected foul air interrupts a meditative morning. Regardless, the atmosphere was undeniably unpleasant.
Tonight, I’ll take a bath, confide my frustrations in my friends, and perhaps share a glass of wine.
Having said his piece, Kurosu turned sharply to leave when Saria grabbed his arm.
“What is it?”
“Could I have a little more of your time?”
“Why?”
“… Don’t be so curt. Ritt didn’t properly explain anything, did he? Allow me to clarify the details of the Mercenary Guild for you.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’ve lost interest in mercenaries.”
“Please don’t dismiss it so easily. I’d also like to understand your reason for coming here. Alright? I’m begging you!”
“… ”
With a sudden playful bow, Saria caught Kurosu off guard, and he reluctantly agreed to proceed.
The room to which he was guided turned out to be Saria’s office on the top floor, contrasting starkly with Hermann’s modest quarters. It was opulent, adorned with extravagant furnishings, and scented incense hung in the air.
Similar to sandalwood, Kurosu adopted his internal observation method out of caution—a specialized form of deep breathing through the core to minimize inhalation. Once attacked by ninja infiltrating a wooden inn with poisonous incense, it left him incapacitated under the influence of hashish. Since then, he practiced caution in matters of incense. While he learned more about the craft, he hasn’t yet uncovered the odorless, colorless incense from that incident or figured out how to counteract it.
“Well, our first impressions weren’t the best, but I’d like to mend our relationship. I’m quite interested in you.”
With that, Saria offered tea she had personally prepared.
“………………”
Not trusting the drink from such an unknown source, Kurosu silently urged her with his eyes to continue.
“Alright then. First things first, Cross, being a mercenary suits you better than an adventurer.” she explained to an unimpressed Kurosu.
“The mercenary guild ranks are decided based purely on combat prowess. Unlike the adventurer guild, which relies heavily on success rates and ethics, our focus leans on forming combat groups, especially for wars. With your skills, you would gain high ranking in no time.”
“What’s the point in a title like that? Without integrity, it’s no better than a rogue. Even if I achieved a high rank, I’d feel shame, not pride. So far, every mercenary I’ve met has been no better than a sword-wielding vagrant.”
“I’d like to rebut that not all mercenaries are like that, but given the treatment I’ve subjected you to, I find it hard to argue. Let’s change the subject. Why did you come to the Mercenary Guild?”
After a stretch of uneasy back-and-forth between Saria’s inquiries and Kurosu’s curt responses, Saria eventually asked if Kurosu had any other questions.
Not caring about mercenaries but interested in clarification, Kurosu turned his gaze towards Saria for the first time in the room and inquired about her nature.
“Though it might be impolite to ask… are you human? It’s the first time since entering this country that I’ve encountered a non-human race.”
On closer inspection, Kurosu noticed Saria’s unusually pointed ears sticking prominently from either side of her head. Unlike animal ears perched on a creature’s head, her ears were positioned normally but disproportionately large. Superstition suggests women with prominent ears are often blessed with luck, though hers seemed excessive.
Should this trait prove medical, it would make for an extremely disrespectful query ──
“I belong to the Forest People Race. When compared with the Human Race, we may slightly lack in physical strength, but many of us are adept at magic. Moreover, we live ten times longer than humans.”
“──live for hundreds of years? Such claims are hard to believe.”
“You truly know nothing. Though I’ll keep the specifics confidential, I suspect I’m older than your ancestral grandfather.”
“……Do the name Eight Hundred Nun sound familiar?”
The legendary nun who, after eating the flesh of a mermaid, gained immortality and lived for eight hundred years. Also known as the White Nun, she is portrayed as a wandering witch with both hair and skin as white as Saria’s.
Originally considered a fairy tale, it might relate to the Forest People. This could open up the possibility that non-human races existed in Japan, although I’m unaware of them.
“Who’s that?”
The hopeful response from Saria met disappointment as she simply stared at him with perplexed innocence.
That evening, the hideout of the Guardians of the Wilderness was steeped in uneasy ambiance. With his damp, loose hair, Kurosu sipped wine in a foul mood, watched by his comrades with mixed expressions.
“So…you immediately reached C-Rank?”
“Yeah.”
Saria personally promoted Kurosu to C-Rank mercenaries, the upper limit of her authority. Although this rank held no significance to Kurosu who planned never to return to the Guild, it remained nonetheless.
“I anticipated some trouble, but never expected you to return on the first day as a mid-ranked mercenary.”
“Well, ah… since no blood was shed, it’s fine, isn’t it…?”
“Amazing! That’s incredible! We must celebrate!!”
Pamela’s ecstatic reactions were amusing to Kurosu, who observed her joy with tender amusement.
During his stay, Kurosu’s worldview broadened. He no longer lumped these people together as “foreigners.”
There were kind individuals and villains alike. Though cultural differences initially disoriented him, the people here weren’t any different from those in Japan.
From that day forward, certain changes occurred.
“Hey! Make way! Guardians of the Wilderness are passing through!”
“Oh, hello!!”
“Brother Cross! Keep up the good work with adventuring!”
On the streets, mercenaries frequently greeted him, and his friends’ faces would show exasperated frustration.
“Hey… Cross…?”
“No idea. Don’t ask me.”
“You did mention ‘just a minor dispute’, right?”
“Cross’s idea of a ‘minor dispute’ ain’t trustworthy. Definitely something major went down, huh?”
“…………”
With the attention of the tough-looking mercenaries, Pamela clung to Barth’s back, unable to move.
“That Franz guy is supposed to be the party leader. If Cross is his subordinate, that guy must be some kind of monster.”
“Yeah. We’d better not piss him off.”
Franz’s face mirrored sorrow as he looked over toward Kurosu. Such expressions, however, remained unhelpful to him.
Though Kurosu remained unaware of how Saria rectified the Guild’s internal issues after their confrontation, he committed to seeking proper retribution if the opportunity arose.