Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

29 – Midterm (4)

“Heh heh…I knew it. You pathetic loser.

If you’d just stayed still, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

He snapped his fingers, and three burly men emerged, ambling, from around him.

Each and every one of them was tall and heavily built;

it was clear they were no ordinary men.

So, what does he intend to do, summoning men like this?

He wouldn’t put his arm around them and play patty-cake.

That leaves only one possibility.

Lianna, sleeping soundly in the tent behind me.

He’s aiming for her.

“Are you sure you can handle this? *This*.”

“What, simply reclaiming a straying wife.”

Seeing the utter obliviousness etched into the corners of his lips,

I was forced to cover my mouth in disgust.

There was little else as tiresome as dealing with beasts masquerading as men,

so I decided there was no need to utter another word.

“It would have been so much easier if you’d just quietly handed her over…”

“Is she an object? Even if she were,

I don’t think she belongs to you.”

“…You just won’t let things go easily, will you? Rough him up a bit and

“Ransack that tent.”

He said, gesturing to those around him.

A man behind Derek brought a chair for him to comfortably sit, and

Following his command, the men around slowly

began to approach me.

“How did you bring these people here?”

“Bring them? They’re fellow cadets, aren’t they?”

“…With those physiques?”

“Well, originally, they’re practically my servants.”

Ah, so they *are* cadets, at least.

Come to think of it, they’re all wearing bracelets.

Cadets with those builds? The nerve.

Judging by appearances, their height is clearly around 180~190 cm, and

they have muscles that don’t suit the age of cadets.

Anyone who doesn’t know would definitely

mistake them for local thugs.

“Enough chatter, hand over my wife, even now.”

“Get lost.”

Whether he felt his offer of even a sliver of mercy had been rejected,

the expression on his face after I cut him off

reminded me of that red pig from before.

And soon enough, the giant in front of me

cracked his knuckles and walked towards me.

A familiar feeling.

My breathing grew shallow, and all the nerves in my body sharpened.

I remember getting my ass kicked trying to feel this sensation every time.

They said that what you learn while getting beaten, you never forget.

Unable to resist even once, I was beaten dozens, hundreds of times every day, and

around the 17th day of that beating,

I finally managed to dodge one blow.

It was an evasion with a strong element of luck, but I still avoided it.

That one dodge meant I had potential, so

I learned again by getting beaten twice the amount others did.

I lived getting beaten and beaten and beaten, and when I could finally dodge to some extent,

they started bringing weapons.

First, a simple wooden block.

Training ended when a solid block of wood that fit in one hand broke

from being hit.

Next was an iron club.

If there was a sign of a broken bone or

When they tired of hitting, training ended.

The last part involved edged weapons of every kind.

From that point on, the concept of ‘ending’ became tenuous.

They wouldn’t stop until you were nearly dead from blood loss, never.

Knives, daggers, spears, chakrams and so on…

I experienced every conceivable implement with my own flesh,

and only after passing all that training could one learn assassination.

What this means is.

I was one of those who survived that grueling training,

and became ungodly good at close-quarters combat.

Which means what? That these fellows standing before me,

with no need for pity or forethought on my part…

Well, they’re as good as dead, that’s what.

*

‘Wonder where my wife is ~ Heh heh…’

Derek let out a triumphant whoop, whistling a merry tune.

He thought his luck was on his side today.

He’d succeeded in forming a team with those he’d won over with coin,

and rejoiced at the chance to ace the midterm evaluation.

But after meeting her today, he felt his luck had

kicked into high gear once more.

He’d held many women in his arms until now, but never

had he encountered a beauty like her.

Rare, long hair the color of the sky,

contrasting with emerald eyes.

No jewel in the world could possibly be as

beautiful as she was.

Learning of her status as a commoner

only made him more confident.

For a poor commoner like her to marry a

noble like him and bear his children…

Wasn’t that the perfect opportunity for her to rise in station?

It didn’t matter if she refused.

He’d simply assume it was a tactic to raise her price,

and her haughty air only made her appear more alluring.

That is, until she took the arm of another man.

‘I’m your husband!! This is adultery!!’

He desperately kept the words from escaping his lips, aware of the many eyes watching,

but his fury spiked to the very top of his head.

He soon recognized the man whose arm she held as Jenison.

Knowing made the jealousy burn hotter.

That wastrel, that good-for-nothing…

Was he more pleasing to her eyes than I?

When the memory of him tormenting her resurfaced,

it baffled me all the more, yet I wracked my brain,

and at last, my thoughts all converged on one single point.

She must be under duress.

For how else could her heart turn from me, a man of standing,

to a commoner on his last legs?

And so, for the sake of our love,

I resolved to be rid of him.

I gathered the strongest of my cohort

and set them to finding him.

They found him, though she was not to be seen.

But no doubt she lingered behind the tent.

Before seeing her, though, I would teach a lesson to this cur,

who dared to steal my wife-to-be and then refused to relinquish her.

I’d break a few limbs, toss him to the monsters.

Clean and tidy, that.

‘And after that…hehehe.’

Imagining the blissful aftermath,

I surreptitiously stroked my groin,

and impatient, I decided to move towards the tent.

“Agh…aaaRGH!!”

“What…what is it!”

But then, it wasn’t his irritating voice that shattered the air,

but the cry of one of my own.

*

Slow.

Unacceptably slow.

Had he only bothered to cultivate his muscles? His clumsy right fist,

lumbering towards my face, was so painfully obvious.

A simple shift of my head was enough to evade it,

and with my left hand, I conjured a dagger,

and sliced the inside of his wrist in passing.

The brute looked upon his dangling appendage

and howled, drawing the startled gaze of all to me.

Startled by the sudden spectacle, I lunged at him, still gripping my wrist.

He assessed the situation, wary of the dagger in my left hand, and shifted into a defensive stance, attempting to retreat.

Seeing this, I lowered my stance and pressed my attack.

His imposing bulk forced me to aim from below.

He seemed to anticipate this, leaning forward, attempting to block the encroaching assault.

But alas, it wasn’t only my left hand he needed to fear.

I conjured a small sickle into my right hand.

And swung it horizontally towards his legs.

*Thunk*

He hadn’t expected an attack on his lower body; his face betrayed his shock. I exerted my right hand, pulling his legs towards me.

The tearing agony caused him to scream, toppling backward, and I pounced, mounting him.

With one hand occupied, he couldn’t even attempt a proper fall.

Straddling him in what they call a mounted position, I decorated his vital spots with the still-gripped dagger.

Neck, liver, and finally, heart.

The neck wound came first, silencing any scream before it could form, and he closed his eyes in a miserable end. The sight of it instilled a palpable terror in the remaining cadets.

“He…he killed him!”

“Murderer! Where are the professors?!”

I ignored the shouts of the remaining students.

Mouths that would soon be silenced were of no concern.

Leaving the fallen one behind, I slowly advanced towards the others, when I felt a presence behind me.

“Ah… this one needs to be taken away quickly…”

An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind.

I reflexively flung my dagger backward.

He evaded it with ease, still showing his concern towards the collapsed student, when the moonlight illuminated him.

It was only then that I realised he was a professor.

The same one who shirked his duties with the Saintess and ran away.

The infirmary professor, Fred, it was.

The remaining cadets, finally realizing he *was* a professor,

started a clamor, yelling that I was a murderer, demanding I be dealt with swiftly.

But he, with a questioning look,

merely shrugged them off, asking why he should, and hoisted him onto his back.

“Y-You’re a professor!”

“And this is currently midterms.

I only came because this one needs tending to.”

“He… he’s dead!”

“He’s not. Look at the wound.”

Hearing his words, we examined the injury closely,

and quickly noticed the wound to the heart had, in a blink, vanished.

“Didn’t you listen to the briefing? Attacks that would threaten your lives,

the bracelets are supposed to block them once.”

“T-Then why did he fall…”

“Because instead of stopping it completely, it knocks you unconscious.

Therefore, no cadet has broken any rules.”

Hearing his directive to continue the assessment,

I decided to resume what I was doing.

The rest of the cadets, quick on the uptake, it seemed,

abandoned Derek, who was still trembling and sprawled on the ground, and started to flee.

I didn’t bother to chase after those ones.

And approached Derek, left all alone.

Seeing him there, the word that came to mind was ‘frail’.

His whole body was shaking, unmoving.

A sour smell started to permeate the air.

Watching him like that, I wiped the blood from myself

and slowly began to speak, so it would really sink in for him.

“Young Master Derek, did you hear just now?”

“M-My… my mistake…”

“That you absolutely cannot die here.”

As he grasped the situation and hastily tried to sever the bracelet on his wrist,

I sunk my knife into the back of his hand, preventing him.

Ignoring his pig-like squeals,

I plunged the blade fiercely into his other hand as well.

Then, I delivered a sharp slap to his face, now a mess of tears and snot.

“Frankly, I just want to kill you.”

“H-Hieeek!”

“But something has piqued my curiosity.”

“…?”

“What sort of attacks would threaten one’s very life?”

With the appearance of Fred from just moments ago,

it’s practically proven that the professors are watching us.

Then, are they able to grasp our every situation remotely?

What if someone were poisoned?

What if a pre-existing condition were to worsen?

What if they couldn’t see the amount of blood someone lost?

Can this evaluation truly guarantee complete safety?

As I explained these facts to him, one by one,

his complexion grew even paler.

“I am going to introduce a poison into your system now.”

“Wh-What did you say?!”

“Do not fret. The antidote is readily available.”

I could see a hint of life returning to his eyes, reassured by my words,

but his complexion worsened again with my next statement.

I intend to bind you to a tree.

And around it, I will light a fire, creating a smoky

structure that will imprison you, conceal you.

If that were the case, how would the professors know your condition and find you?

And can this bracelet truly prevent even poisoning?

At my last words, the acrid smell around him

intensified, and the ground around him became damp.

And not long after, his reaction subsided, and

I realized he had fainted from terror.

And since it was time to end my watch,

after loosely binding the unconscious man,

I poked the cheek of the girl sleeping soundly,

deciding to wake her.

I’ve decided to leave the disposal of this fellow to her,

as she’s also a victim.