WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 9: These Orphans Need a Director (2)

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At the center of Pritchenkaya Central Garden stood monuments and statues whose construction Ivan the Great had personally ordered.

They were the [Statue of the Hero Setting Out], the [Statue of the Goddess of Victory], and the [Statue of the Nameless Hero].

One day, after the Demon King had died and the war had ended, one of the statues disappeared from Pritchenkaya Central Garden.

The [Statue of the Nameless Hero]. It was said that a small plaque had been driven into the spot where it once stood.

- Mourning them is my right.

- Enrika.

Crown Prince Alexander had raged that it was an insult to the royal family, but Princess Elizaveta had acknowledged Enrika's right and supposedly gave up on recovering the statue.

Of course, no one knew the truth.

There was no need to antagonize a legendary master thief who had stolen a statue overnight from a garden in the middle of the capital, right beside the royal palace, especially when that thief was also a member of the Hero Party that had killed the Demon King.

Elizaveta had handled it as well as she could. She had neither offended Enrika nor damaged the royal family's dignity.

"Was this inscription always here?"

Ivan stood in a corner of the underground sewers, looking at the [Statue of the Nameless Hero].

It had taken him three hours to find it with nothing but the information that Enrika's "dungeon" was somewhere in the southern Pritchenkaya Underground Waterways.

- Even when your names are forgotten.

- Your glory shall be immortal.

- On behalf of all those absent from this place.

- For all those absent from this place.

- Elizaveta Kirillovna Krasilov.

- Enrika Seregeyevica.

Ivan removed his hat, held it over his chest, and bowed his head briefly.

When he had first heard that this statue would be built, he had been too embarrassed to even consider going near it.

Then, on the day he happened to visit Central Garden, Enrika had already removed it.

As he finished his silent salute, an amused voice echoed through the sewers.

"Do not mourn those who departed first."

"For I stand among their ranks as well."

"You still remember. Good. Welcome, Little Ivan."

With a metallic screech, the base of the statue twisted. A stone wall split apart, revealing a passage.

Beyond it was a lavish reception hall corridor, nothing like the foul, musty sewer where he had stood moments before.

As Ivan walked down the extravagant corridor, its walls draped in silk, he slowly steeled himself.

Like most members of the Hero Party, Grandmaster Enrika was insane.

At that very moment, Enrika was thinking the same thing about Ivan.

Like most Annihilation Unit agents, Little Ivan was insane.

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"It's been seven years since we met face-to-face, hasn't it? So, have you been well, disciple?"

"More or less."

Ivan sat in the reception room, taking a sip of coffee.

He always took only a tiny first sip and rolled it slowly around in his mouth.

It was a kind of etiquette. Like most etiquette, it was also meant to prevent assassination.

No poison. Ivan gave a slight nod, savoring the coffee before...

"Ah, you can't identify modern chemical poisons by taste."

"Hm."

He spat the coffee back into the cup and placed it on the table.

"I'm joking, I'm joking! Should I bring you a fresh one?"

"No. I didn't come here for tea."

"Still so stiff. For someone so young."

Enrika smiled with her eyes and lounged across an elaborate sofa.

A pale leg peeked through the slit in her silk dress. Naturally, that was not enough to catch Ivan's eye. The monster before him was an old hag over a hundred years old.

How many elixirs and vials of pure blood had she consumed?

Ivan could not help imagining a viper staring at him and flicking its tongue.

This was a vampire's nest, after all.

Elder Vampire, Shadowblade, Fang of Darkness, and the "traitor" Enrika.

A hero who had betrayed the Elder Vampire that bit her a century ago, drunk its blood, and brought an end to the vampire rampages scattered throughout Pritchenkaya.

Over the century since, this woman had taken countless lives under the pretext of assassination contracts. If the Demon King had not emerged, would the Hero not have killed her?

Ivan considered this as he carefully stroked the axe handle beneath the table.

"Right, you came sooner than I expected. Honestly, that suits someone still active better, doesn't it? Though... being active isn't exactly a compliment between us. Right?"

"Where is Priscilla?"

"Ah, straight to the point! You were always like that!"

Enrika chuckled as she laced her fingers together.

Her dress swayed gently, displaying her alluring figure. Of course, Ivan would not be swayed by someone seventy years older than him. His range only extended ten years in either direction, at most.

"What do you think? Did I bite her, or didn't I?"

"You didn't."

"Oh? How can you be so sure?"

"If you had, you wouldn't have invited me. You would have ambushed me."

Ivan fixed her with a cold stare and continued.

"Wasn't revenge the most important principle you taught me?"

"Hmm? That grubby little girl falls within the scope of your 'revenge' now?"

"I took her in."

He remembered the day he had taken Priscilla in. Even among the refugees gathered before the military camp, she had been an orphan people looked down on.

Having no parents at such a young age was terrible. It meant the only person who could protect you was yourself. Once she understood that, the child had always acted boldly.

The world was already full of people who were miserable enough. There was no room to help a child who only grieved and sank into despair.

To pity someone, you needed some room in your own heart. The Allied Kingdoms had possessed no such luxury in those days.

That was why Ivan remembered Priscilla and several other children. He had decided to take them in, retired, and founded an orphanage. They were no different from his own children.

Naturally, if someone hurt his child, he had to take revenge.

"Don't look so venomous. It makes you seem amateurish."

Enrika smiled and set down her teacup.

The black tea, untouched and still full, rippled faintly on the table.

"Didn't I teach you? Venom belongs exclusively to the hunted. Dressing yourself in bright colors while loudly proclaiming revenge and self-defense is a weakling's desperate struggle."

"Answer me."

"She's still alive. I didn't bite her. She's perfectly fine. I washed her up, put her in pretty clothes, and fed her good food. Now you answer me."

Enrika slowly placed her white fingers on the table.

"What are you plotting?"

"...Hm?"

"What are you plotting at that orphanage of yours?"

Enrika meant it sincerely. When he said he was taking in orphans, she had laughed it off, thinking that perhaps he had a soft spot for them because he had once been one himself. It was pitiful, really. Was he not her adorable disciple, one she would have gladly taken into her family if he had come to her?

Then two years passed. And one of those "orphans from the orphanage" showed up knowing how to use Ambush Technique with astonishing perfection.

Honestly, it felt like she had been stabbed in the back. It was not as if she could complain about leaking techniques, since it was not particularly impressive. Nor was it some school that passed its secrets down to only one successor. She could teach it if she wanted.

Still, why was he sending agents as though he wanted to start a turf war with his teacher in the same district?

She felt wronged. After retiring, he had even erased his identity and lived as if he were dead, so she had not sought him out. Despite being close enough to reach with a stumble, she had never once gone to ask him for a drink.

And now what?

He was sending agents to make a show of opening for business in her front yard?

Wasn't that a declaration of war?

Frankly, she had not even captured and killed that cheeky little brat. She had politely invited him over and made her intentions clear. "Let's not do this. We have so many memories together. Do we really need to fight?"

Yet this man, hard as stone, was saying, "Touch her and I'll kill you!"

It really hurt her feelings.

And what was with that beard? It was driving her insane. Why was he wearing something that had gone out of fashion a century ago? That was not meant to be a disguise, was it? She certainly had not taught him that.

Even as countless thoughts like these passed through her head, Enrika continued to smile knowingly at Ivan, every bit the legendary vampire who had lived a century and a member of the great Hero Party.

What am I supposed to tell her? How much should I say?

Ivan could not make sense of it.

Elizaveta used him because he was undercover. His past had been thoroughly cleaned up, his name was ordinary enough that using it would never raise suspicion, and his appearance had changed considerably, at least by his standards.

On top of that, the former Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Petrovich had already been listed as dead and buried in the national cemetery.

In other words, according to Elizaveta's wishes, his identity and mission were classified.

Could he tell Enrika that?

But did Enrika not have some sort of connection to Elizaveta?

Enrika had founded the Annihilation Unit, and Elizaveta had commanded it.

Both suffered headaches from their lack of information, yet smiled without losing the ease and caution of thoroughly trained agents.

What the hell is that lunatic thinking?

What the hell is that lunatic woman thinking?

That was what they were both thinking.

Is this betrayal? How could she do this to me?

Is this betrayal? Did this woman really switch sides from Elizaveta to Alexander?

Teacher and disciple continued strengthening their bond of mutual affection through a shared heart and mind.

It was a winter night in the middle of January.

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Footnotes:

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