WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

Is It Bad That the Main Character’s a Roleplayer?

[Translator – Aren]

◈ Chapter 315 If Only I Could (1)

Deathbringer narrowed his eyes at the sound of someone coming down, then furrowed his brow when the first thing he could see from his angle was a pair of feet.

The shape of the boots told him that the person coming down was that old man.

But the face that soon came into view wasn’t nearly as much of a mess as he’d imagined. To be exact, Daniel’s eyes were red and swollen like he’d been bawling his eyes out, but at least it wasn’t the worst-case scenario Deathbringer had imagined, so he was relieved.

To be honest, given the relationship between those two, it wouldn’t have been all that strange if Daniel had come down with blood on his cheek.

Of course, understanding something and being okay with it were two different things. If there really had been blood on his cheek, Deathbringer would have thrown his sword at him immediately. All the more so now that he knew the Demon Knight’s circumstances.

The Demon Knight, or at least the Demon Knight as he was now, had done nothing wrong. The only ones at fault were the bastard who’d dragged the Mister here against his will and that damn Demon who’d set the whole thing in motion!

"Go on up. It should be fine.”

Judging by the way Daniel said that, they must have worked things out somehow. Genuinely relieved by that, Deathbringer dashed up the watchtower. He was moving fast enough to make anyone who saw him exclaim, calling out, ‘I can’t even see his feet.’

"Mister!”

Even so, his rapid steps slowed drastically as he neared the top of the watchtower. Hard as it was to believe. The Demon Knight’s cheeks were wet, so he couldn’t help it.

Deathbringer once again became acutely aware of how much the Demon Knight had changed and stopped awkwardly. He had no intention of denying who the man was just because his personality wasn’t the one Deathbringer knew…but still, it felt a little awkward.

He lingered near the entrance to the watchtower, cautiously watching the Demon Knight’s reaction.

"...Can I come over?”

At his timid question. The Demon Knight smiled, his brows slightly furrowed. It was such a faint and awkward smile that someone might have mistaken it for a frown.

"I don’t mind.”

"Really……?"

"Yes."

‘Wow, I’m so not used to this.’

Deathbringer felt goosebumps appear across his skin. Not because he disliked it, but because it was so unfamiliar. He quietly crept toward the Demon Knight.

"...Um, Mister. You look kind of tired.”

"Well......."

By then, however, he had begun noticing things besides the wet cheeks. Eyes darker and gloomier than usual. A blank expression that couldn’t be described as lost in thought, stiff, or particularly displeased either. A thin line of blood across his ear. Things like that.

"If I say I’m tired, will you call me a Demon again like last time?”

"Wh-when did I ever do that?!”

"On the deck of that ship?”

But before Deathbringer could read anything from those things, the Demon Knight gave him a faint smile. It wasn’t some dramatic change. Only the corners of his mouth had lifted slightly. And yet somehow his whole face looked softer.

"...I won’t do that.”

"Is that so?”

"I definitely won’t.”

Still, whatever it was Deathbringer needed to read hadn’t disappeared. Knowing that, he focused a little harder.

"Then you won’t complain if I get some sleep?"

『Please stop calling me old man.』

Suddenly, the owner of a voice he wasn’t particularly fond of seemed to overlap with the Demon Knight’s ash-gray hair.

Deathbringer’s throat suddenly tightened.

"...Of course."

Why did that guy come to mind? Because their hair colors were similar? Or because he’d just run into him? But the Demon Knight and that old man didn’t have anything in common besides their hair color……

As Deathbringer watched the Demon Knight’s eyelids slowly close, his stomach suddenly churned. He felt like he’d missed something…something important. Something he absolutely should never have missed.

Rustle.

In the meantime, the Demon Knight’s eyes closed completely. It wasn’t a sight one saw often. The Demon Knight wasn’t the sort of person who slept defenselessly in public.

"Mister."

"......"

Feeling once again just how much things had changed, Deathbringer felt around through his belongings. His pounding heart and the uneasy feeling behind it certainly bothered him, but he didn’t want to make the Demon Knight sleep without any bedding either.

"Uh......."

But he didn’t have a blanket. To be exact, while they were returning to the city, all of their belongings had ended up inside the Demon Knight’s magic bag.

Deathbringer’s mouth took on the shape of a triangle.

“This is bad.”

Only the Demon Knight could use the Demon Knight’s magic bag. No matter how many times Deathbringer stuck his hand inside, he wasn’t going to be able to get any of the belongings inside of it out.

That meant the only thing he could do was hand over the cloak he was currently wearing… Deathbringer briefly glanced at its lining. He could see the Inquisitor’s dried snot caked all over it. He’d needed a cloak for the desert, there hadn’t been anyone he could borrow one from, and the snot had already dried, so he’d forced himself to wear it.

"......”

Should he cover his idol with the outside of the cloak, which was covered in dust and grime, or with the lining, which was thoroughly covered in dried snot?

Deathbringer found himself facing the dilemma of a lifetime.

* * *

"Still?”

By the time the sun, long past its zenith, finally touched the horizon, Gunther blinked at the soldier’s report. It was because someone had gone up the watchtower and apparently had no intention of coming back down.

"Erm, should we wake him and bring him down?”

"No, leave him be.”

This man who’d taken down a Great Demon was allowed to sleep a little longer. There was no need to go out of their way to wake him up.

With that thought, Gunther gave a small wave of his hand, then glanced at the sun, which had nearly disappeared. There was no need to wake him, but it did seem like they should at least move him somewhere better to sleep.

His mind changed slightly. In his opinion, or just objectively speaking, actually, a watchtower wasn’t a good place to sleep.

"Instead, give him this message. We have spare rooms in the castle, so ask whether he’d like to move to one of them. We can put off our conversation until tomorrow.”

And so he came up with a new suggestion.

It was already far too late to have a conversation anyway. Gunther himself had spent the entire day running around and had completely exhausted his stamina, leaving him in no state for a proper conversation.

Since it was already late, wouldn’t it be better for everyone to simply put things off until tomorrow and take it easy? Gunther offered the suggestion in the name of efficiency and practicality. Whether the Temple would agree was another matter, but judging by the current bishop’s disposition, he figured they probably would.

"Yes. Is that all I need to do?”

"How could that be true? Tell the butler on your way out as well.”

There was no telling whether he would choose to move into the castle. But if he did, it only made sense to have everything ready so he could head straight there.

"Have them prepare the Gray Tin Room… No, the Silver Room, and tell them to guide our guest there so he can rest as soon as he arrives. Silver, not White Copper. Make absolutely sure they don’t mix them up.”

If it were entirely up to him, he would have offered the Platinum or Gold Room, but each of those had its own problem.

So Gunther chose the best room after those two instead. The lighting wasn’t great, but it was cozy and kept the sandstorms out.

"Then get going.”

"Yes."

‘Damn it. If the Platinum Room hadn’t belonged to that damn former lord, I would’ve given him that one.’

Gunther briefly considered changing his order even now, then gave up on the idea. What had their hero ever done to deserve being put in a room that belonged to that piece of trash?

The fact that plenty of people would kick up a fuss, harping on about tradition and whatnot if he actually did that, also played a part in his resignation. Gunther was already exhausted. He had no confidence he could deal with that nonsense on top of everything else.

"What a surprise, I thought you two would have something to say about it.”

Not that offering the Silver Room would let him avoid that nonsense entirely. If the Platinum Room traditionally belonged to the Lord of the castle, then the Pure Gold Room belonged to the Lord’s spouse, while the Silver Room had been used by the heir for generations.

"It was the Young Lord’s decision, so I have no objections.”

"I agree."

Contrary to Gunther’s expectations, however, the two Knights beside him gave different answers. His gaze turned peculiar.

"Spare me that loyalty-through-obedience nonsense. I haven't even been inaugurated yet.”

"Empty formalities do not determine the Young Lord’s position—”

"Really? You mean that?”

Well, when he thought about it, perhaps it wasn’t entirely strange. By the time someone became a senior Knight, even the most straightforward person inevitably learned a thing or two about politics.

And a Lord who couldn’t even control a single Knight would see his authority shaken. Now that the former Lord, the absolute ruler of this city, was dead, those two had no choice but to demonstrate their loyalty for the city’s sake.

"It’s just us here. Why not speak openly and honestly?”

"I am being sincere."

"So that’s how you want to play it?”

Of course, there was no one here besides the three of them, so a little dissent wouldn’t have mattered……

Considering that those two had always been relatively favorable toward him, he could at least understand it as a show of respect.

"I’ll ask one last time. Do you really have no complaints?”

He could understand it, but he just couldn’t trust it.

Gunther’s judgment had never been perfect after all.

"...I don’t like it, but I think it’s the best choice.”

"Right. I thought so. And you, Sir Sapphire?”

"...I also agree that it’s the best choice. I do have some concerns, but those are simply something we’ll have to deal with.”

"I see……”

See? Once again, the answer didn’t line up perfectly.

Gunther slumped back into his chair. He’d had to push them to get that criticism, but if anything, it put him more at ease. 『You... Forget it. Even the time it’d take to talk to you is a waste. 』After all, having something to criticize meant there was at least room for improvement.

"I’m sorry."

Even so, he knew this behavior itself wasn’t right. A Lord of all people lacking confidence in his own decisions was quite simply an indictment of incompetence.

"For having someone like me above you.”

"Not at all.”

"How could you say such a thing?”

But how was he supposed to stop himself? He was too much of an idiot to trust his own judgment, so how could he just blindly force his decisions on others?

"Today, Young Lord, you performed your role as acting Lord perfectly.”

"Perfectly… You're saying that even after so many people ended up screaming so despairingly?"

"Not everyone can be saved. It would have been the same even if the former Lord were still alive. The decisions you made were undoubtedly the best ones that could have been made in that situation.”

Gunther gave a bitter laugh at the Knight trying to console him. The best. That was the word the former Lord had hated most. All the more because he himself had been the one and only ‘Best’ for this position.

"This isn't a position where doing your best is enough. It’s a position where you have to make the best choice.”

"Young Lord, no human can make the best choice every single time—”

"Of course not. I know. But do you think the residents will say the same?”

To be honest, Gunther thought he'd done everything he possibly could today. He hadn’t run away, hadn’t frozen in fear and trembled helplessly, and despite his lack of stamina, he'd stayed at his post until this very moment. Surely no one could say he hadn’t tried.

"You both know how bad my reputation is among the soldiers and residents.”

But his effort, his best, couldn’t solve everything. That was the problem.

In a position like this, the result mattered more than the process.

“The Young Lord who gets scolded every day. The Young Lord who tries but still can’t do anything right. The Young Lord who’s pitiable but clearly just not capable enough…… Of course, I agree with those opinions to some extent. Someone emotional and lacking confidence obviously isn’t suited to being a Lord. But there’s a difference between everyone knowing that and only me knowing it, right?”

"...The people saw what you accomplished today, Young Lord.”

"They saw it. But that doesn’t mean they’ll keep remembering it.”

The soldiers and residents had listened to him well today, sure. But that was only because one shocking event after another had left them too stunned to think straight. It hadn’t happened because they genuinely trusted him and chose to follow him.

Once they came back to their senses, they would gradually begin to doubt him.

"It won't be long before people start talking. They'll ask whether someone as incompetent and stupid as me should really be standing at the top when the city’s survival is at stake. Whether there shouldn’t be someone more dependable instead.”

"Young Lord, you are not incompetent! Even today……!”

"But I’m not as good as the former Lord. Right?”

"That’s......!"

"Those who remain are always compared to those who are gone. Just as the two of you were endlessly compared to Sir Amber.”

It was unfair, but that was simply how things were. It wasn’t as though Gunther had chosen to be incompetent, yet his abilities were placed on the scales and judged however others pleased. And the more exceptional his predecessor had been, the harsher that standard became.

"Of course, given the position I’m in, I know that’s just unavoidable……”

Just because it was unavoidable didn’t mean it could be overcome. Gunther wanted to desperately stop now. To finally be free of the words that had bound him his entire life.

"That’s true. But Young Lord, even so, please don’t think about giving up.”

But as though he’d read his mind, Sir Sapphire blocked that thought with ghostlike perception. Dame Topaz, who wasn’t as perceptive as Sir Sapphire, looked startled.

"Young Lord?”

"...Why? Why can’t I? Everyone’s going to doubt my abilities anyway, so wouldn’t it be better to put someone else forward? You two would probably be more comfortable with someone more capable above you instead of a foolish idiot like me, wouldn’t you?”

The self-loathing that had piled up layer by layer throughout his entire life burst out like a breached dam. Having just lived through the most horrific day in Munmund’s history only made the torrent more violent.

Gunther didn’t want to spend another second in this godforsaken position. This burden was far too heavy.

"Every person possesses the wisdom to find the right path through the darkness. It’s simply that many have yet to find it.”

But the moment Sir Sapphire uttered those words, Gunther clenched his teeth.

"Therefore, we must become the first guides to lead them toward that wisdom. Those were Sir Amber’s words, were they not?”

"Sir Sapphire."

"And yet, Young Lord, despite how deeply you respected him, do you intend to disregard the words he left behind?”

"You really are…”

"Do you truly intend to?”

"The worst person in all of Munmund.”

He had dared to threaten Gunther with something more precious to him than his own life. Gunther had to express his anger somehow, even if only like this.

"Sapphire, I really hate you."

"...I apologize.”

"You always pretend you’re doing what’s best for me while making sure I can never escape this position. I suppose that’s only natural, since what matters to you is that I’m the Young Lord.”

"Young Lord, that isn’t……”

"But, yes. You’re right.”

How miserable. Gunther muttered as he stared at the line of words binding him to the position he hated most.

It really was miserable.

"I can’t go against his words. I can’t go against what he said.”

It was the most…miserable kind of love imaginable.

"Young Lord."

"Sir Sapphire, take my place for the next hour. After humiliating me this badly, don’t tell me you can’t even do that.”

"...If you’re going out, at least take Dame Topaz with you.”

"No need. I don’t intend to leave the castle.”

Far from leaving the castle, he was just going back to his room.

Gunther left the room, leaving the two senior Knights behind. Across the corridor, he could see the office they were using as a temporary command post, but he deliberately ignored it. For the next hour, Sir Sapphire would handle things in his place.

"My room, ah.”

However, once he entered the corridor where his room was located, Gunther remembered one fact he’d forgotten. The Silver Room, which had originally been his, had now been given to their guest.

‘Guess I’ll have to turn back.’ Thinking of where the guest rooms were, he turned around and retraced his steps down the corridor. ‘If I was going to remember, couldn’t I have remembered a little sooner? Why’d it have to be when I was already right outside my room?’ The words he deliberately kept light couldn’t completely hide his sorrow.

Step, step

His limping footsteps retraced their way down the corridor. With no light in the hallway besides the candle he carried, orange light flickered and swayed with every step he took.

Whoosh.

Then another beam of light joined the darkness. It began as a thin line before widening at an angle.

"......?"

Gunther’s head turned back unconsciously.

"...Fasha?”

A familiar face he’d longed to see appeared before him.

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