Chapter 62 On the Nature of Men
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
It happened on the way back.
With Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san accompanying me, we ran into a jam along the white corridor. It wasn’t that the passage was narrow—just that the men had decided to start a pride battle.
”There are so many men in this town,” Sow murmured, half in wonder.
From young brothers to silver-haired grandfathers, all stood still in their fine kimono, faces powdered, appearances immaculate. Each hid his mouth behind a fan, waiting for the other to yield first.
But since everyone shared the same mindset, no one moved. If they stepped aside, they’d get home faster—but pride dictated it was better to be granted the right of way.
”They’re so stubborn,” I muttered. “Wouldn’t it be faster just to let someone pass?”
The rule of the road here was like that of a daimyo’s procession: those of higher rank within a neighborhood had the right of way—based on their husbands’ status. When an important person passed, those of lower standing stepped down, bowing as the noble acknowledged them with a curt nod from his palanquin window. Equals split the road evenly.
But when two men belonged to different factions, even equals refused to give way.
And so, when several factions converged, the whole corridor froze solid.
Usually, processions avoided this sort of thing by taking alternate routes. But Kujukuri Town had only a single main street.
”…Oh right, there was a tea party in the northern district today,” I murmured. “Maybe I should fake an illness to push through.”
Incidentally, the sick had priority here. I was in a wheelchair—surely I could manage a convincing act.
It was ridiculous, but such excuses often broke the gridlock. That was how it always went.
After a while, a courier and a midwife slipped through ahead of our palanquin. They, as in the old days, had free passage—the only professions allowed to cross before nobles.
Bored, I glanced at my companions. “Guess we might as well talk about what kind of men you two like while we wait. Seems appropriate, surrounded by so many of them.”
Would they say it was me? Or dodge the question out of propriety? Either way, pointless speculation.
”Hey, Sow-san,” I asked. “Just how many men are there in this town?”
The question came to me suddenly, though surrounded as we were, it felt like a mystery.
Almost like walking through an ordinary town.
Sow-san lifted her chin proudly. “The number of males, you mean? Currently 65 gentlemen reside in Kujukuri Town.”
”65, huh… Is that a lot?”
”Kujukuri’s total population is about 60,000,” she replied. “Compared to other towns, both our headcount and gender ratio are quite favorable. Truly, we’re blessed.”
I hadn’t thought her attached to the town, but for a woman, having so many men nearby must be a comfort. Her expression softened, almost cheerful.
”So that means tonight, at least two or three of those fine gentlemen will be doing indecent things with ordinary women,” I mused aloud.
”Young Master?”
”Ah, forget I said anything.”
”R-right…”
I was thinking like a middle-schooler.
Still, if there were that many men, that meant roughly six hundred Imperial Guards, with over two hundred capable of psionics—a force fit for a small nation.
I hadn’t realized Kujukuri was that large.
Many Imperial Guards accompanied their masters here—most either strikingly beautiful women with jet-black hair or refined ladies streaked with dignified silver. Each had aged gracefully, the kind of beauty that felt earned.
If it were just hand service, I’d have no problem asking one of them. Maybe even… the real thing.
Yeah, probably could.
Anyway, Kaede-san’s Exploration Squad wasn’t among them.
These Guards stood alert, protecting their masters while arguing over who should yield first. Their faces showed the strain of constant diplomacy—balancing duty with the moods of impatient men.
Now and then, familiar faces exchanged quiet words—old colleagues, perhaps.
”Do you and Sow-san know any of them?” I asked.
”There are several chief officers we often see in our duties,” she said. “Serving as a tea-party escort is the pride of the Imperial Guard.”
”Impressive,” I said.
So, the leading Guards were on escort duty. Maybe some had been Sow-san’s classmates or seniors.
”Come to think of it,” I asked, “you two went to the same school, right?”
”Yes. In fact, Kujukuri has only one Imperial Guard training academy. There are private tutors, but…”
”What kind of place is it?”
When I asked to pass the time, Sow-san’s composure faltered for once.
She was always the calm, cool type—serious, direct, sometimes even intimidating. In public, people called her the ice woman who didn’t joke. But I wondered—what kind of child had she been?
I actually talked with her more than most, save for Maggot-san. Yet I realized I knew little of her past.
”It’s a boarding school,” she said. “No tuition required. It’s open to all.”
”That’s pretty generous.”
”Not exactly. Most students who fail to be assigned a male must repay their education by collecting mystical relics.”
”From dungeons?”
”Yes. Many leave with injuries—and few return to graduate.”
Sounded just like an adventurer academy from some fantasy world. Study by day, dive by night, and only the best became Imperial Guards.
Connections helped too—many noble daughters had their spots secured from the start—but ultimately, appointments came after an interview.
Still, I wanted to see that classroom.
”Even so,” she said, “it’s a good thing the gates are open to the poor.”
”Got any pictures?” I asked.
”Unfortunately, records are scarce…”
”Young Master! I have one!”
Vocal Slut-san popped up beside me, grinning as she pulled a sepia photo from her sleeve.
I took it and stared. Around thirty young girls stood in neat rows.
There they were—tiny Sow-san and Vocal Slut-san, standing on a beach before the sea. About my age, back then.
Both wore bob cuts. Adorable.
”Sow used to think photos stole your soul,” Vocal Slut-san said. “See? She’s all stiff.”
”She really is. So cute,” I said.
”This one’s Maggot.”
”Wow, Maggot-san already had… uh, impressive assets back then.”
”H-hey! Why do you even have that? Don’t show such things to the Young Master!” Sow-san sputtered.
Our playful noise drew a pointed cough from the Imperial Guards ahead.
I looked up to find an elderly gentleman glaring at us—his eyes cold with distaste.
No doubt, to a misogynist like him, seeing women behave so familiarly was intolerable. His Guard must have rebuked us on his behalf.
Other travelers caught in the jam began casting us strange looks.
”Ah—yeah. Thanks. I’ll give it back.”
”Y-yes, of course.”
I handed the photo back to Vocal Slut-san, feeling a little awkward. Straightening my posture, I decided to behave—quiet, proper, unthreatening.
”To demand courtesy from men… how improper. I’ll protest,” Sow-san muttered coldly.
”It’s fine, Sow-san. Don’t reach for your sword.”
”…Understood.”
Her eyes burned as she glared at the Guard who had cleared his throat at us.
Still, judging from their bearing, that man’s side probably outranked ours. They looked down on us—that much was obvious.
I leaned toward Vocal Slut-san and whispered, “Has Sow-san always been like this?”
”She used to be worse,” she said with a sly grin. “Once, she bumped shoulders with someone and drew her sword. Turned out it was the post slot on a mailbox.”
”What? That makes no sense—but that’s hilarious.”
We snickered together, our quiet laughter bubbling up between us. Sow-san’s stiff, self-serious face only made it funnier.
Then, as always happened, someone up ahead finally claimed illness—forcing their way through. It started a chain reaction; others began stepping aside to make room. After all, refusing a sick person passage was shameful.
Soon everyone was yielding, tripping over each other to appear considerate. Now, being first to leave looked rude instead.
Men—such troublesome creatures. Even when they knew it was foolish, they couldn’t resist measuring distance, pride against pride.
* * *
”Wait—another jam?”
We were on the way back to the hospital room.
I’d switched from my wheelchair to that strange, boxlike vehicle. I’d thought it was some odd kind of car, but it was actually a cargo container—used aboard alien ships to transport goods.
It slid smoothly across the ground, easy on my injuries, a comfortable ride. But just as I’d begun to relax, it shuddered to a stop.
From the front seat, Sow-san peered out. I glanced through the window too. A quarrel had broken out between men, blocking the way.
”Hmm… I thought I recognized that voice—oh no. That face.”
My stomach turned. I nearly groaned aloud.
Through the glass, I could see them clearly—four men.
Three were young, around twenty at most. Since there was only one other teenager in town besides me, they had to be barely into adulthood. The fourth was a gaunt, colorless man caught between them, looking helpless.
Ichimatsu.
Kaede-san’s master—the same bastard who’d tried to ruin me by forcing me into a night with a woman. To society, he was a villain. To me, ironically, he’d been a blessing. Still, around town he had a reputation for cruelty.
Now his already pale face was almost gray as he argued with the young men, who, from their light makeup and fashionable kimono, looked like they too were returning from a tea party.
To me, Ichimatsu was the very picture of obsession and misogyny—cleanliness to the point of madness, a man incapable of human warmth. Probably bullying someone younger again.
”Can we go around somehow?” I asked.
”My apologies,” Sow-san said. “Shall I fetch another vehicle?”
”If this drags on, I’d rather not wait. Please do.”
For the record, I simply disliked the man. His treatment of Kaede-san and the others was vile.
No matter how much tax he paid or how useful he was to the town, I couldn’t respect someone who mistreated the women who cared for me.
Sow-san soon returned with a long-handled palanquin—a simple box meant to carry one passenger.
”Please transfer here, Young Master.”
”Ow—right, right. Okay.”
I climbed out of the container and into the narrow basket. It was small enough to slip past without bumping into the men’s vehicles.
For context: ornate, lacquered carriages were called norimono—reserved for nobles. Simple, doorless versions like this were kago, used by doctors or the sick. Same purpose, different class.
This one was a rental—little more than a bamboo hammock lashed to poles. They called it a basket for a reason.
Despite the town’s advanced technology, people still favored these things for one simple reason: men refused to ride horses. Too afraid.
Once I’d settled in, the three of us began to slip quietly past the scene. It probably looked like we were fleeing. Which wasn’t wrong. I was still underage, unengaged, low in status—better to avoid being noticed by either side.
Of course, life had other plans. One of the young men called out to me.
He looked barely into adulthood, full of restless energy—the kind of person who thought himself invincible.
”Hey. You, boy.”
”…”
”Hey! Are you deaf?”
I ignored him.
He repeated himself again and again, but I pretended not to hear, curling up like a snail. Maybe if I acted like a sulking child, he’d give up.
”Um, Young Master,” Sow-san murmured. “They appear to be addressing you.”
”Right. I was hoping you could brush them off… but no, I guess not. You can’t just ignore a man, can you?”
Indeed, no Imperial Guard would. Showing respect to men was basic decorum.
And honestly, I couldn’t fault them. I’d been shown kindness by many women; I couldn’t deny Sow-san and the others the same courtesy toward men.
Still, I wanted nothing to do with Ichimatsu’s mess. Even if it gave me a bad reputation, I’d rather stay clear of it. My Guards would only grow tense otherwise.
So I tried my best to keep my distaste hidden and answered, “Um… what is it?”
”First, get out of the carriage,” the young man said. “You’re being rude.”
He gestured sharply for me to step down.
Well, to him I probably looked like a child. A nobody. And within the town’s hierarchy, he wasn’t wrong.
Neither of my Guards objected—that alone told me he was within his rights. They’d be the ones shamed if their master ignored etiquette.
This was how society worked. No use resenting it.
”All right. Give me a second.”
”Yeah, hurry up.”
If nothing else, following protocol mattered. Better to bend than break.
”Ugh—ow. Okay.”
I eased myself out of the palanquin, one hand on my aching stomach.
What could they possibly want?
The argument nearby hadn’t stopped. Their voices carried clearly to where I stood.
”Ichimatsu-dono, we’d be honored if you’d instruct us in the ways of Psionic Power. Your fame precedes you. Three titled Guards under your name—that’s quite the achievement.”
”Oh right,” another said mockingly. “Useless, Junkheap, and Trash, wasn’t it?”
The two youths who hadn’t spoken to me were jeering now, goading Ichimatsu.
Standing so close, I couldn’t help hearing every word—whether I wanted to or not.
”What did you just say, you little brats!?” Ichimatsu roared, voice hoarse and face flushed red with rage.
It had been weeks since I’d last seen Ichimatsu, but he looked the same—like a withered tree refusing to fall. Up close, he reminded me of a sick dog forcing itself to bark.
We hadn’t spoken since that day, yet nothing about him had changed. His voice rasped, his face sagged, and he looked far older than his years.
”Useless whelps,” he spat, “you think to mock me? You earn nothing, produce nothing—empty boys without substance!”
”Substance, huh,” one of them said, smirking.
”What’s funny? Why do you laugh? Answer me!”
His desperate outrage only fueled their laughter. They hid their mouths behind their fans, shoulders trembling.
At last, one of them spoke, voice dripping with cruelty. “If anyone lacks substance, Ichimatsu-dono, it’s you.”
”Hey, don’t say that,” another chuckled.
”No matter how much you earn, keeping such a disgraceful Psionic Power bearer under your roof must be humiliating.”
”Hah! Leave the poor man be.”
”Word of it’s spread beyond town, you know. I couldn’t show my face at a tea party if I were you.”
The two men nudged each other playfully, their words the kind of venom that smiles while it stings. It felt like watching school bullies drag a classmate into the restroom just to break him down.
Yet Ichimatsu wasn’t one to stay silent. He shouted back, “Attendance at tea parties is a male’s duty! What man neglects his obligations without cause!?”
”That’s precisely your problem,” one of them sneered. “Your haggard face spoils the mood. Do us a favor and retire quietly.”
Their mockery only deepened.
So this time, Ichimatsu wasn’t the aggressor—he was the target.
Behind him, his Imperial Guards—mature women with dignified faces—stood rigid, their expressions brittle as sand. However vicious the insults, they couldn’t intervene. Women were forbidden from interfering in the quarrels of men.
That was how this world differed from the feudal lords of the old one. When women insulted one another, it could end in bloodshed. But men were property. Their Guards couldn’t lay a finger on another man, even in their master’s defense.
Still, one or two of the women tried to step forward, only for Ichimatsu to strike them back with his cane.
”Stay back, you worthless creatures! If you’d been proper women, I’d never have fallen so low!”
”Ichimatsu-sama, please, let us return—”
”Silence!”
The cane’s tip struck one Guard in the forehead. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even raise a hand to stop him.
Watching, the young men actually tutted in mock disapproval.
”Hey now, no need to take it out on your Guards. Strange, isn’t it? You usually love flattering women.”
”That’s what makes it all so pitiful. When the mayor praised you at the tea party, it was the joke of the day among the men.”
They shook with laughter again, covering their mouths like polite courtiers.
”Look at yourself,” one said. “A gray-haired old man trying to stand out among your betters—what a disgrace.”
”I’m 42! Still young!” Ichimatsu roared, veins bulging.
From their words, it seemed this all revolved around today’s tea party. Apparently, Ichimatsu had been praised there—recognized by Kujukuri’s mayor herself. Instead of respect, it earned him ridicule.
”Give it up,” one sneered. “Licking women’s boots won’t make you whole. You’re a half-broken man, a Psionic cripple. Trying to act proud just makes you look pathetic.”
Ichimatsu trembled. Sweat pooled on his brow as he clutched his chest, breath ragged.
For a moment, he looked less like a man and more like a dying elder—someone who needed to be rushed to a hospital.
I just stared, speechless. Even Sow-san, who still held a grudge after he’d once shouted her into tears, was struck silent.
”Um… what is this?” I finally asked the nearest young man, ignoring the dull throb in my wounds.
Was this bullying? It looked like bullying.
I didn’t even like Ichimatsu, but hearing him battered like this—mocked for his Guards, for attending a simple party—made my stomach twist.
I had no idea what had led to this or why I had to witness it.
”What exactly are you doing?” I asked again.
The young man smirked. “Well, you see, your name came up at today’s tea party.”
”My name…?”
I hadn’t attended any tea parties. Never had, in fact.
”You’re quite the talk, you know. Word’s spreading that when you returned from Ichihara, you performed admirably—delicate yet daring, like a woman playing the part of a man. They say your Psionic pairing helped the Guards craft medical elixirs that saved lives during the war.”
”Oh… thanks, I guess.”
It sounded like praise—sort of.
He meant it as a compliment, I think: that I’d achieved something “masculine” despite being so unassuming.
Apparently, tales of my survival through the Forest of Mystery, the nameless shore, and the Rurunai Ruins had become a kind of local legend. And Trash-san’s mystical artifacts—mass-produced under my supervision—had aided the war effort.
Still, I couldn’t take joy in being complimented by men who thought this kind of cruelty was sport.
It felt like watching office bullying up close—ugly, pointless, suffocating.
I didn’t want to side with anyone here.
”The mayor herself praised you,” the man continued. “Didn’t expect you to be so small in person, though. Anyway, that’s not the point.”
He looked down at me, his tone casual, amused.
So I’d been praised by the mayor too. Great. Whatever.
Then he said, “Naturally, we began to wonder if your feats were even real. You never appear at tea gatherings. No one’s ever seen you in person.”
”I was hospitalized,” I said flatly.
”Convenient excuse,” he replied. “But here’s the funny part—Ichimatsu-dono defended you. Called you brave, clever, a real man. Shocking, isn’t it? What did you do to earn his favor?”
I blinked. “Wait—what?”
He wasn’t joking.
So, during the tea party celebrating the first victory of this campaign, while I was away, they’d all been talking about me—and Ichimatsu, of all people, had stood up for me.
The same man who’d once tried to humiliate me.
Why? Regret, maybe? Did he feel guilty for forcing me on Kaede-san?
”I have no idea why he’d say that,” I said. “So… you stopped me just to ask about it?”
He grinned. “Simple enough. You happened to pass by, and we thought we’d show you what kind of ‘substance’ this man really has.”
”Substance…?” I echoed.
”You wouldn’t want to be friends with a man like this, would you?” one of them said. “Best you learn what he’s really like sooner rather than later.”
Ah, damn.
Ichimatsu met my eyes.
He froze—wide-eyed, clearly shocked. He must’ve been so worked up that he hadn’t noticed me standing there, listening to the entire exchange.
”…Ichimatsu. It’s been a while.”
”…You.”
He didn’t say another word.
The sickly, worn-out man before me no longer had the unhinged, intimidating aura I remembered from our last argument. He just looked… exhausted.
”Always was a timid one,” one of the youths murmured.
”Indeed,” another smirked.
The three young men turned to me, surrounding me in a loose half-circle.
”Uh…”
They loomed over me, all height and confidence.
Luckily for me, I’d recently spent time face-to-face with creatures that could crush stone with their bare hands. Ordinary humans didn’t exactly scare me anymore.
The men began firing off what sounded like advice—thinly disguised reprimands, really.
”Don’t get carried away, boy. You lucked into a good Psionic pairing, that’s all. A man’s worth comes from his wealth and marriage prospects. Grow too proud, and you’ll be despised.”
”Exactly. Try not to show off at the next tea party.”
”Maybe he took pity on you because you’re both men controlled by women. But you’d do well to choose your friends carefully.”
They smirked, pleased with themselves.
”I’m not Ichimatsu’s friend,” I said flatly.
That, at least, I needed to correct.
And really, they talked about Trash-san’s Psionic Power as though it were mine. It wasn’t. It was hers.
Still, their focus stayed on Ichimatsu. I realized then that I was nothing more than a convenient prop—a prop to humiliate him.
”I see now,” I muttered.
”Oh? You understand, then?”
”Yeah. I think so.”
It all started to click.
This wasn’t about me. This was a jealous man’s harassment—men’s gossip disguised as moral policing.
At today’s tea party, they must have honored the male patrons whose Imperial Guards had distinguished themselves in battle. Ichimatsu must’ve been among those recognized, maybe even for Kaede-san’s team’s work.
And that was enough to make him a target.
There were probably older men behind these three—faction heads, whispering from the shadows, telling them to take Ichimatsu down a peg. The hierarchy in this town was ancient and brittle, and envy was the oil that kept it grinding.
Men here were like lifelong students at a girls’ academy—bickering, scheming, never maturing, dragging the same rivalries from youth to grave.
Ichimatsu made an easy scapegoat. His squad was Kaede-san’s—infamous across Kujukuri as the most useless Psionic team in town. And though Ichimatsu himself wasn’t incompetent, his reputation hovered just above mediocrity—perfect fodder for mockery.
No other master had a full set of Guards with entirely “worthless” powers. Normally, at least one would awaken something useful. In his case, every single one manifested trivial abilities.
So naturally, people blamed the master, not the Guards.
And today, the sharks had come out to feed.
I’d just been dragged in for flavor.
”Well then, boy. Farewell.”
After getting their fill, the young men patted my head like I was a pet and sauntered off. Their Guards followed, vanishing down the corridor.
All that remained was Ichimatsu—silent, chest heaving in ragged breaths.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
At last, he broke the silence. His voice was so soft it barely reached me, thin as a dying ember.
”Hmph. Satisfied now, are you?”
He spat the words like venom—half to me, half to himself.
I didn’t reply. Watching someone I disliked in that state didn’t bring me joy. It just made the air feel heavy.
”No,” I said quietly. “It’s awful. Do they always treat you like this?”
He blinked once. “So it would seem.”
Maybe he endured this kind of thing often. If so, it wasn’t my place to pry.
Still, curiosity tugged at me.
”They said you defended me at the tea party. Why?”
”Don’t misunderstand,” he said curtly.
”Misunderstand?”
”Yes. I wasn’t defending you. I simply couldn’t abide men who sneer at others’ commendations. If they belittle your contribution, they devalue mine as well.”
He spoke with irritation, but also exhaustion.
”So it wasn’t about me, then.”
”Of course not. I serve society out of duty. I merely dislike seeing useless fools parade their ignorance before the mayor.”
He turned away, his voice clipped and cold.
But up close, I could see how pale he was—how his hands trembled faintly. Pity crept in despite myself.
”Even so,” I said, “they went too far.”
”When men have nothing worthwhile to say,” he murmured, “they turn to insults. It’s nothing new.”
He fell silent again, then began to approach me—slowly, stiffly, his thin frame moving like a skeleton held together by sheer will.
”Wait,” Sow-san said sharply, stepping between us.
Across the hall, Ichimatsu’s Guards tensed instantly, hands twitching toward their weapons.
Sow-san didn’t move. Her gaze was ice-cold, hand hovering near her hilt.
”Stay back, Young Master,” she warned.
Blocking a man’s path was considered rude, but that didn’t matter. Ichimatsu was a potential threat.
Ever since the incident with Kaede-san, Sow-san hadn’t trusted him—or any of his Guards.
Her expression was frigid, fingers pale and slick with nervous tension. If any of his women made a single wrong move, she’d draw in an instant, while Vocal Slut-san would grab me and run.
Then Ichimatsu spoke quietly. “Your stomach—does it hurt?”
”Eh?”
He was looking at my abdomen, concern flickering in his dull eyes.
”You’re injured, aren’t you?”
”W-well, yeah, but…”
”Regardless of rank, forcing a wounded noble to dismount is unmanly. Those fools failed to notice—but that excuses nothing.”
He lowered his gaze.
”It must have hurt,” he said softly. “I apologize for involving you.”
And then—he bowed.
A deep, formal bow. He held it for ten long seconds before straightening again.
There was no mistaking it—it was genuine.
I was stunned.
I’d expected anger, maybe a scolding. Anything but an honest apology from this man.
The cruel smirk he’d worn that night—when he’d watched Kaede-san and me step out of the isolation room—was nowhere to be seen.
Remembering it still made my stomach twist.
”Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Those guys called out to me, not you. You didn’t actually do anything.”
He hadn’t. We’d just crossed paths at a bad moment. That was all.
Still, I couldn’t help but see him a little differently. I still disliked him, but blaming him for this seemed pointless. Those young men outranked both of us.
And honestly, I pitied his Guards more than I disliked him.
”But,” he said suddenly, “you shouldn’t have been here in the first place.”
What? That was ridiculous.
So much for thinking he might’ve softened.
He really was hopelessly stubborn.
”The road doesn’t belong to anyone,” I said.
”Then it doesn’t belong to you either. If it bothers you, write your name on it. I’ll make a point of walking over it every day.”
So he wanted to trample my name underfoot. What a spiteful thing to say.
He sniffed dismissively. I gave up. Feeling sorry for him had been a mistake.
Instead, my thoughts turned to Kaede-san. Maybe now was a good chance to ask.
”By the way, Ichimatsu—what about Kaede-san?”
”Who?”
”Kaede-san. Your own Imperial Guard. How is she doing?”
”Ah. I wouldn’t know. And even if I did, why would I tell you?”
His tone was cold, detached.
Maybe it was improper to talk about one’s Guards to outsiders, but in his case, I suspected he really didn’t know. He’d always been callous toward them.
”Still,” he said after a pause, “as an apology for dragging you into this nonsense, I suppose I can tell you.”
”Thanks.”
”No need for gratitude. It’s payment, not kindness.”
He spoke like he was granting a favor, but I didn’t mind. Using Psionic Power to check on her myself would have felt like breaking a promise. Hearing it from him was cleaner.
”She failed her mission,” he said flatly. “Returned from the battlefield in disgrace. I hear she’s been useless ever since—like a shell of a woman.”
”She… went to war?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
I wasn’t sure how much he actually knew.
”Yes. She was given a special assignment. She botched it, though she did bring back a few scraps of value. Now she lies in some corner of her quarters all day, barely drinking water.”
”You haven’t seen her? Don’t you care?”
He frowned.
She was his Guard. I’d fought beside her—I knew what she’d endured. And yet he hadn’t even checked on her?
I felt a chill down my neck as I asked.
”She betrayed my expectations,” he said simply. “Why should I see her?”
There was no pity in his eyes, only bitterness—like a man who’d been personally wronged.
Ah, I thought. It’s useless.
We would never understand each other.
If it were me, and my Guard had suffered like that, I’d have locked her in her room just to keep her safe and spoiled her for a day straight.
I needed to see Kaede-san for myself.
”Then,” I said, “would it be all right if I invited Kaede-san to my tea gathering?”
”You mean, not me—but her?”
”Yeah.”
He hesitated.
At my side, Sow-san stiffened.
”Young Master, that isn’t wise,” she said quietly.
She didn’t need to explain. I knew she meant dangerous.
Anything involving Ichimatsu was bound by strict contracts. Even now, after my injuries, the full story was murky—and Sow-san clearly wanted no part of it.
But before either of us could continue, Ichimatsu answered plainly, “Do as you like.”
”Thank you.”
”I imagine you’ll find it amusing—seeing that woman reduced to nothing.”
Permission granted.
It was an unusual request—inviting another man’s Guard to a private tea ceremony—but if the master allowed it, no one could object.
He truly didn’t care.
”But she’s broken, you know,” he added.
”That’s fine,” I said. “I still want to see her.”
And with that, he left.
He swung his cane and barked at his Guards, returning to his arrogant, imperious self.
”Why must I strike you? You force my hand! To serve me is to bear my blows!”
”Ichimatsu-sama, it doesn’t hurt us. Please, return to your room and rest.”
”Silence! You failed me! You all failed me!”
”Yes, yes, at once, please—this way.”
They ushered him into his carriage, and soon he was gone.
Sow-san stood beside me, still tense, her fingers resting lightly on her sword’s hilt.
”Well,” I said. “That was… something. Thanks for protecting me.”
For a woman to defy a man so openly—it couldn’t have been easy. If she’d drawn her blade first, she might have been punished.
”Of course,” she said. “I haven’t forgiven that man for making you cry. I still believe he’s dangerous. And yet—he knew of your wound, even showed concern. What could that mean…?”
Her brow furrowed.
I sighed. This was the moment to say it.
”I’m sorry, Sow-san. But I need your help again. Please coordinate with his Imperial Guards.”
”It’s too dangerous. I must ask you to reconsider inviting her.”
She looked openly unhappy.
To her, Kaede-san was the woman who had once been alone with her master—and made him cry.
Letting her near me again went against every instinct she had as a bodyguard.
”Please,” I said.
”…Must you?”
”Yes. Kaede-san isn’t dangerous. But I can’t persuade everyone alone. I’m not clever enough to make them understand. So please—let me rely on you. I’m asking you.”
I lowered my head.
Sow-san crouched slightly to meet my eyes.
Her voice softened. She sounded almost like an older sister.
”Understood. Leave the arrangements to us. All right?”
”Yeah. I’m sorry to trouble you.”
She smiled gently, swallowing her frustration.
”Not at all. It’s my honor as an Imperial Guard.”
She always carried the weight of too many worries—but that calm, knowing smile eased my guilt a little.
”That’s right,” said Vocal Slut-san cheerfully. “Rely on us for anything!”
”You? You never use your head,” Sow-san sighed.
”Maybe not—but if it’s for the Young Master, I’ll try extra hard!”
I thanked them both.
Men are terrible. Not just one, but all of them. Selfish, arrogant. I guess I’d learned to be selfish too.
Notes:
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Rurunai Ruins – A low-risk jungle-type dungeon entered in Chapter 31 after the island escape. Found by Trash-san and the Young Master seeking safety.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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