*
"Damn it."
The scene that followed was overwhelming.
To Wangcho, Tao Chen, it was less a battle and more a massacre.
Shell casings, a rare sight in this gutter, rained down, and the engine roar of a Saw Sword mixed with the sound of it tearing through human bone.
— "Why are guys with guns coming here!"
— "You bastards! Do you have any idea who's behind us!"
Occasionally, there was one who acted tough, trusting their backer.
But Wangcho simply blew off that Clown's head with his Hand Cannon and replied coolly.
"If you're waiting for the merchant company that backs you, they're not coming. You crossed the line.""What...?"
"You don't seem to get it. That's just like you lot."
Wangcho sighed and swung his Hand Axe.
That made five.
It wasn't that Wangcho's skills had rusted.
It was just that a single Hand Axe couldn't match the killing speed of a gun.
Among them all, the most impressive was the performance of the man called 'Captain'.
'What in the world is that.'
Wangcho's gaze fell on the weapon the Captain was holding.
It couldn't be a firearm, as the gun muzzle was blocked, and instead, a black-painted crystal orb was attached to its tip.
But it wasn't a magic staff either, as it was connected by something like a cord to the mana reactor on his back.
'The way he holds it is like a gun, but it looks like a magic staff... What am I supposed to call that thing.'
Just by its shape, he couldn't get a feel for what it was.
Though he had heard that all magitech equipment was like this.
As soon as he entered the theater, the Captain checked the instrument panel dangling from his back, then began writing complex formulas in a notebook.
After diligently calculating variables for 10 minutes while being covered by his subordinates, he finally joined the battlefield.
"Stand back. [Kristarubr, provas tibdona.]"
With a short chant, the staff spewed fire.
Dozens of the charging Clowns were engulfed in flames, and the White Face, who had resisted for a moment, was instantly turned to ashes.
In the middle of a sea of fire.
Wangcho looked at the Captain, terrified.
"Buddy, were you a Mage?"
"A half-wit like me can't be called a Mage. I can't use magic without the aid of a measuring magic tool."
"It's the same thing, what's the difference."
Whether it was a guy who could whip up magic on the spot or a guy who used a magic tool to create magic.
To Wangcho, they were both monsters of the battlefield.
And on top of that was the certainty that if he ever became an enemy of this Captain, he'd become a whole roast.
The Captain advanced with that same momentum, right up to the boss of the Clowns.
"Ohohot! Have you ever seen such ill-mannered guests! You people are— Hieeek-!! Hot! So hot!"
The King of Fools—Narrenkönig, who had been introducing himself, his belly jiggling beneath his worn silk vest.
But before he could finish his words, the Special Mission Unit Captain spewed fire at him.
"Hkagagak-! Stop iit!"
Still, being at the cusp of Rank 1, he endured the flames, transformed his scepter into a mace, and charged.
But there was no way Wangcho would let that happen.
"Just die quietly, you disgusting bastard."
Thwack!
Wangcho's Hand Axe embedded itself in the back of his head.
The Clown King pitched forward, his face scraping against the floor.
"Ughyak! Hgyaaak!"
Narrenkönig frantically rolled around to put out the fire on his body.
The Captain watched the fat Clown silently, then snapped his fingers, extinguishing the flames.
"Huh? Buddy? You out of magical power?"
The Captain didn't answer, merely watching the sooty mess that was the King of Fools.
Soon, when the smoke from Narrenkönig's body began to subside.
The Captain approached the giant lump of charcoal.
"Haa... Haa..."
"Narrenkönig."
"W-What?"
"Do you know the difference between a madman, a human, and a beast?"
The Captain knelt before Narrenkönig, who was barely clinging to life.
"Who... Who..."
"Those were your words to me. You told me to prove it myself, if a madman, a human, and a beast are different."
As he spoke, the Captain's hand moved toward his gas mask.
With a hiss—, the pressure in the gas mask covering his face was released.
The bare face revealed through the white steam was horribly disfigured.
His cheeks were a mess of scars from burns and sutures tangled together, and the corners of his mouth were torn and sutured all the way to his ears.
"N-No way...!"
Just then, other operatives approached from behind the Captain.
One took off his gas mask. He had no nose.
Another took off his gloves. He had only three fingers.
Another undid his neck protector. Where his vocal cords should have been, there were only scars.
The Captain lined up the operatives like a folding screen and pulled the axe from the Clown King's head.
"I... no, we still haven't prepared an answer to your question."
The Captain pulled a thick magitech grenade from his coat.
"But I've learned one thing for sure."
The Captain pried Narrenkönig's mouth open.
There was the sound of his jaw dislocating, but he paid it no mind and shoved the grenade into his mouth.
"A lifeline, gold coins, a dagger. With just these three, one can easily become a beast for a single person."
The Captain thought of the small-folk Director with the crow mask.
It had been snowing then, just like today.
— "You choose the dagger? Hmm... I see. If you wish for revenge."
"You truly... keep your promises."
"Uuugh...!! Mmph!!"
The Captain pulled the dagger he had received that day from his coat and stabbed it into Narrenkönig's heel.
"Mmph...!"
"With this, the accounts are settled."
The other subordinates also stabbed daggers into the tendons of the ones they had dragged along.
On their daggers, the word Vergeltung (Retribution) was engraved.
Once they had each finished their task, they returned to the operatives who hadn't removed their equipment.
— "Good work."
— "Is it our turn yet?"
— "We just have to wait. Where did you say you were going?"
— "Rotmund."
For some reason, Wangcho got the impression that the expressions of the operatives who had removed their masks were bright.
Meanwhile, the Captain's distorted mouth twitched a few times, then,
"Go on, you prove it this time. Let's see how hard it is for madmen to hold back their laughter."
he spat coldly at the fallen Clown and turned away.
The Ironclad operatives, and a dumbfounded Wangcho, followed behind him.
Trudge, trudge.
And just as they reached the theater entrance, the fishing line hooked on the Captain's fingertip pulled taut.
From the stage, Narrenkönig's desperate groan could be heard as he noticed the fishing line.
"Uuuuugh...!!"
Without looking back, the Captain pulled the fishing line.
With the sound of the line unraveling, a clear metallic sound echoed from inside the theater.
Ting.
***
The third day since the heavy snow began.
This year, too, I was trapped in the mansion, killing time as always.
'Ah, I'm craving a snowball fight.'
Unfortunately, not only did I have no friends to have a snowball fight with, but it was impossible to find any romance in snow that had absorbed the filthy smog.
Get hit by the wrong snowball and you don't catch a cold, you get a chronic illness.
You could get some weird another world disease from a snowball fight.
I'm not kidding, for real.
Above all, the persona I'd established was a quiet and melancholic one...
If I had to say, I'm the type to get hit with snowballs by tomboys like Erika.
Not the one who throws them.
To be even more precise, I shouldn't go outside at all.
I'm the character who sips tea in my room and just confirms the occasional report brought by the butler.
"Young Master. It has been taken care of."
Just like now.
...Wait. What's been taken care of?
"The cleaners you personally selected did a neat job."
"Cleaners... you say."
I had a feeling I knew what the Head Butler was talking about.
It meant they had made an example of the Clown bastards who had touched me.
Well, considering their equipment, it was a given.
I never thought they would fail their mission from the start.
As I nodded, the Head Butler continued his report.
"I have already spoken with the Security Bureau, so you will not be bothered with any post-procedural matters."
I froze for a moment at that report.
Ah, right. I had forgotten.
It was all well and good to summon my private soldiers through the Head Butler, but I hadn't thought about the cleanup.
I had been so hot-headed at the time.
Fortunately, it seemed the Head Butler had taken care of this part on his own.
At this, I continued the Q&A naturally, as if I had trusted the Head Butler from the very beginning.
"You are as reliable as ever, Head Butler. But may I ask how you handled it?"
"Yes. We decided to make a donation in the Security Bureau's name in the form of a special scholarship to the Hero Academy."
The Head Butler's work was thorough.
Normally, even a noble isn't permitted to kill people inside the walls as they please.
Since, nominally at least, this is a society where laws exist.
'Even in the Middle Ages, where barbarism and romance coexisted, nobles couldn't just go around killing people at will.'
But there are exceptions to everything.
A rather peculiar 'custom' exists in this Empire.
"In return, the Security Bureau has agreed to turn a blind eye to a 'chance to restore honor'."
A noble is granted their title of nobility because they have the power to protect people from the demonic beasts outside the walls.
But if a noble with such a title gets beaten up somewhere and comes back crying, the face of the Empire that granted the title is tarnished.
So, this macho Empire presents two options to a noble who has been bitten by underlings.
Will they live as a dishonorable super-coward who borrows government authority to take revenge,
or will they prove the machismo latent within the nobility?
The latter, which has become a custom, is called the 'chance to restore honor'.
"You've worked hard. How much was the donation?"
"It was not a significant amount. It was an H-Sector matter, so the Security Bureau had little interest. A five-year scholarship was sufficient."
And to perform this custom, one must show enough sincerity to blind the eyes of the Security Bureau, albeit for a very short time.
In my case, I showed that sincerity with a donation that served in place of bail money.
"You did well."
"You praise me too highly."
Thanks to that, I no longer had to think about the aftermath.
Now, what I had to consider was the reward for the subordinates who had successfully completed their mission.
I fiddled with the handle of my teacup and thought about what to give them as a reward.
'I have to give them a reward that won't leave them feeling resentful...'
The higher you climb, the more you must avoid creating emotional friction with your subordinates.
Especially when those subordinates carry swords.
In countless stories and in history, how many third-rate supporting characters had I seen meet a miserable end after mistreating or being stingy with their subordinates?
The misunderstanding genre was no exception to this.
No, rather, they are my plausibility, so I must take even better care of them.
'The company already gives them reward money...'
However, money wouldn't do.
They're already receiving hefty bonuses from the company, so I didn't think adding a gratuity on top of that would be very impressive.
I needed to provide a reward of a slightly different kind.
'Hmm...'
After some thought, I came up with a personal reward I could give them.
"Head Butler."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Could you please look into a dessert shop in Civitas Square that would be suitable for children?"
"...Pardon my rudeness, but may this old body dare to ask your intentions, Young Master?"
"The mission is over, so there must be new children now."
Those Ironclad folks.
They've had a strange habit for a long time.
They always pick up orphans or slaves from the mission sites.
People who were trapped or abused somewhere.
When sent on a mission, they would rescue such people and give them a new life.
And this fact probably wasn't known only to me.
"You don't have to feign ignorance, Head Butler. You knew, didn't you?"
"My apologies, Young Master."
The Head Butler hastily bowed his head.
Strictly speaking, the private soldiers' actions were insane.
Deviating from the operational area, unnecessary waste of resources, and even bringing in unidentified personnel.
By the corporate logic that holds security and efficiency as sacrosanct, it was an act for which they could lose their heads, literally, without a word of complaint.
What employer would tolerate their private soldiers, run on their own money, slacking off during work hours and bringing in unvetted outsiders?
No matter how kind an employer I was, this was a clear abuse of authority.
And the Head Butler, who knew this but didn't report it to me, could by no means be free from this charge.
"I did not intend to deceive you."
"I know. That's why I haven't said anything."
But I knew this and had been tacitly condoning his and their unilateral action.
The people I save go on to save others, and the saved people are in turn instilled with loyalty towards me.
This was a classic cliché for expanding one's power in the misunderstanding or territory management genres.
Besides, there was no reason to give them a hard time when they were doing a good deed.
But that quiet good deed was now over.
"You don't have to hide it from me anymore. In the first place, isn't it strange? You're doing a good thing, so why do you have to do it while watching others' faces?"
"Young Master..."
"So, as a reward for this mission, I'll send snacks for the children instead. That should be fine, right?"
"An excellent choice, Young Master."
For the record, sending snacks meant I was now giving them open permission.
Furthermore, it also meant that I would start contributing some money from now on.
"...I wonder how much an orphanage costs."
"Pardon?"
"No. Just talking to myself."
I didn't forget to drop a hint that if they did even better, I might even build them an orphanage.
In this world, an orphanage wasn't something you could just build because you had a little money.
The space inside the walls was already limited, so real estate prices were outrageously high.
This world setting wasn't generous enough to have people building homes for rootless orphans when they could barely manage their own lives.
Hinting that I could build an orphanage in such a place was not something one could do lightly.
'Even for me, this is a big commitment I'm making.'
The Head Butler knew that well, so his eyes went wide.
"Young Master...? Are you serious?"
"I believe I asked you to forget it."
"My apologies. This old body has been forgetful lately due to my age."
The Head Butler hastily bowed his head.
Seeing that meticulous and perfect butler flustered for a moment, I felt a sense of accomplishment for preparing the surprise.
"Then please proceed as I've said."
"As you command, Young Master."
The Head Butler turned his back to me.
Then suddenly, as if he'd remembered something, he turned back around.
"Young Master. But by any chance, is there anything else you wish to say?"
"Hmm..."
I thought for a moment.
Why would a man who usually receives his orders and makes a clean exit act like this?
'What is he expecting?'
I tried to recall the convention of the misunderstanding genre after a long time.
The protagonist makes a thoughtless decision on a trivial whim, the loyal subordinate executes it perfectly, and when everything is well concluded,
what did the protagonist do next...
Ah.
'I forgot to say thank you.'
I haven't had much reason to say thank you to anyone but my family lately.
It was a word that never really stuck to my tongue, as I didn't use it much in my previous life either.
Conscious of the image of a dignified protagonist, I corrected my posture.
"I was flustered and forgot. Please tell them I'm grateful."
I put down my teacup and said with the most polite smile I could muster.
"Thank you for this, as well."
"..."
The corners of the Head Butler's mouth twitched up slightly.
As expected, it was the right answer.
In the misunderstanding genre, a single word often works better than a pile of gold coins.
I met the Head Butler's eyes and smiled.
The Head Butler smiled back.
"...You are too kind, Young Master."
But something was strange.
The Head Butler was definitely giving a benevolent smile, but his expression didn't feel bright.
Maybe it's because we've known each other for a long time.
That smile felt not like his usual genuine one, but like pretense.
How should I put it? It was like the face of someone who had received a beautifully wrapped gift, only to realize the box was empty.
Before I could even think about why the Head Butler was reacting that way, he opened his mouth.
"Then I will take my leave."
The Head Butler bowed a little deeper than usual, then quietly closed the door.
I stared at the closed door for a long time.
'Something feels off.'
But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't come up with a reason for the Head Butler to react that way.
In the end, after much thought, I decided it was just my imagination and picked up my cooling teacup again.