Chapter 25 _ The Afterimage of a Sword Saint, or Three Months for Adult Reasons
Iris and I continued taking jobs from the Adventurers’ Guild day after day,
steadily building experience.
Balancing that with my work as a night-soil collector was brutal,
but in hindsight, it clearly helped improve my basic stamina.
And so—
three months passed.
“…That was fast.
No—more like, you skipped it again.”
“Indeed,” Frey nodded smugly.
“It appears the author found Iris’s training arc troublesome.”
“…Author?
Frey, what are you talking about?”
“Training arcs require thinking, planning, and consistency,” she said gravely.
“And even then, readers nitpick over the smallest details.”
“Yet from a reader’s perspective, they tend to be dull.
No one wins!”
“F–Frey… are you okay?”
“I am fine. This is what humans call adult circumstances.
You are to sense it without asking.”
“…But you’re ten years old, right?”
“Silence!
Do not concern yourself with such trifles!
Just accept it!”
She cleared her throat.
“At any rate, you both performed admirably during these three months.
Mario, you reached Adventurer Level 2.
Iris, Level 3.”
“Yes.”
“Yes!”
“However,” Frey continued seriously,
“gentle and safe jobs alone will not lead to growth.”
“You must take risks.
Fighting only from a safe distance will not suffice.
Do you understand?”
“I get it, but… we’re still pretty weak.”
“True.
And there is something else we lack.”
Iris thought for a moment.
“…A shield role?
A frontliner?”
Frey nodded.
“Precisely.
Our party consists of a mage and a ranger.”
“I told Mario before—
mages draw attention first.
They generate hate.”
“If we had a frontline attacker—
someone who overwhelms the enemy up close—
the enemy’s focus would shift.”
“That is when a party truly begins to function.”
“…I see.”
“But only those with extraordinary talent can fight completely solo,”
Frey added.
She glanced at Iris.
“And whether you realize it or not,
you still carry trauma.”
“Because of Johann—the knight who was supposed to be your shield.”
“…Master…”
Frey’s voice softened.
“That is why I hesitated to bring this up myself.”
“But if enemies close the distance,” she continued firmly,
“you will panic.”
“Mario will be attacked while nocking an arrow.
Iris will be struck before she can finish chanting.”
“Without a frontliner to buy time,
this party has no future.”
“…Do you have anyone in mind?” I asked.
Iris shook her head.
“…Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Do not pity me!” Frey snapped.
“I am known as the Party’s Considerate Princess!”
“You just said you fight solo.”
“…T–tehepero.”
“Frey… that word is outdated.”
She froze.
“…!”
After a moment of silence, she looked down.
“…Let us move on.”
We had enough funds, so I started asking around.
The Guild.
The black market.
Anywhere information flowed.
I avoided having the Guild assign someone directly.
Iris had been forced to sell her body to survive—
there were men involved in that past.
And honestly…
I didn’t like the idea.
It might sound childish, but
I didn’t want other men near her.
Eventually, I heard a promising rumor.
A man who had been a sword prodigy since childhood.
He mastered the blade to the point of being called Sword Saint.
He had served as captain of the royal guard—
directly under the king.
But he was dismissed.
The reason?
He was rumored to be homosexual,
and had made advances not only toward fellow guards,
but even sons of nobility.
His name was Wilfred.
He supposedly had no interest in women.
Which meant—
dangerous for me, perhaps,
but safe for Iris.
And if I was honest with myself…
I didn’t want any man with a past connection to Iris near her.
By dusk, I found a former royal guard turned adventurer named Hans.
“Wilfred? His whereabouts?”
Hans scratched his head.
“He never stayed in one place.
Even as captain, he barely used the barracks.”
“I haven’t seen him at the Guild either.
No idea why.”
“But he has to make a living.
Try asking a broker at the black market.”
“Thanks. Here—just a little.”
I handed him five fanans.
…I guess I’d gotten used to doing things like this.
At the black market—
“Excuse me.”
“Hm?
No more jobs today. Come back tomorrow.”
“I’m looking for someone named Wilfred.
Former captain of the royal guard.”
The broker raised a hand.
“…Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not!?”
“This place deals in dirty work.
Plenty of people here have grudges.”
“Everyone uses aliases.
We protect identities.”
“Conversation’s over.”
That was when I heard a familiar voice beside me.
“Job’s done.”
I turned.
“…Roger?”
“Oh?
Long time no see.
You’re still alive, huh.”
He grinned.
“You look well.
Say—do you know a man named Wilfred?”
The atmosphere shifted.
Even I could feel it.
Roger’s tone dropped.
“…Why do you want Wilfred?”
“I’m forming a party at the Guild.
We need a frontliner.
I wanted to ask him to join us.”
Roger exhaled, visibly relieved.
“…Payment?”
“I… haven’t really thought that far yet.”
“Figures,” he snorted.
“You still got birds nesting in your head?”
“Sorry.
But I really need him.”
“…Hmph.”
Then he said it.
“I’m Wilfred.”
“…Huh?”
I stared at his unshaven face.
“Ha ha.
Good one.
That’s not funny.”
“Believe what you want.”
He turned to leave.
“W–wait!
You’re serious…?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Then—!”
“I refuse.
Goodbye.”
He walked off into the darkness.
Only then did I notice—
His gait.
The sway of his shoulders.
Whether carrying corpses
or serving as a proxy in the trial by combat—
he had never wasted a single movement.
(No way… Roger is really…!?)
I stood there, stunned.
Why was a former Sword Saint
rotting in a place like this?
And—
was it true that he was only interested in men?
My already chaotic attempt at recruiting a party member
had taken a wildly unexpected turn.
