WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 116

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A Person Named Judith (3)

"....."

"....."

A silence settled over the room, dark and heavy as nightfall.

Everyone who had heard Judith's story could only wear grim expressions.

A childhood so miserable that neither Brett Lloyd nor Airen Farreira could have imagined it.

Both of them had been cared for by countless people since birth, born into noble houses, and the truth was that even a word of comfort felt hard to offer.

Glen the butler was a commoner too, but even he found nothing to say.

A heavy mood hung in the air, everyone reading everyone else's face.

The one who finally broke the silence, one that had felt like it might stretch on forever, was Zet Frost, who had been quietly taking in Judith's burning gaze.

"Thank you."

"...?"

Judith's face went blank with confusion.

She'd expected an apology.

Not that he had anything to apologize for, of course, and she'd already prepared her answer: that there was no need for that, that this was simply how she saw things.

She hadn't expected gratitude. Not even close.

But Zet Frost meant every word.

His expression turned serious, and he looked Judith straight in the eye as he spoke.

"When I was younger than you, I once believed there was only one path to the peak of the sword. That was around the time I'd fallen in love with speed above everything else. I believed that no matter how heavy a greatsword, no matter how unpredictable a shifting blade, speed alone could overpower it all. That speed was the highest peak swordsmanship could reach."

"....."

"Of course, I don't think that way anymore. I realized, a little too late, that what matters is the person wielding the sword, not the sword technique itself. There's no single royal road on the path of the blade. You simply walk whichever road feels right to you. And yet, even knowing that..."

Zet Frost let out a self-deprecating chuckle and kept going.

"...I made the same mistake all over again. And you're the one who woke me up to it."

"....."

"That's why I said thank you."

There was no fixed answer for climbing toward Expert, toward Master, and further still, toward that ultimate realm that existed only in ideal. Only each person's own way.

The same held true for overcoming the demons of your own mind.

Zet Frost's way, treating the pain of competition as something unnecessary and focusing purely on the sword itself, that was a correct answer.

If it led him to find his true self, then it was the right path.

That didn't make Judith's way wrong, either.

Fully recognizing the agony of competition and the bitterness of defeat, and hardening a resolve strong enough to endure it.

Even if the flame of an excessive fighting spirit threatened to consume her, if she overcame it in the end without losing herself, that too could be a correct answer.

Zet Frost realized it again.

There wasn't only one way to overcome something like this.

He said, "I don't think my way was wrong."

"....."

"But your way isn't wrong either. If you can overcome it, that might be the finest way of all. Pathetic as I was, I couldn't bear the pressure and broke down instead... but looking at you, I think you might actually grow stronger for it."

"Obviously. That's how I've lived my whole life. You've seen it yourself, right? Keeping up with these madmen is impossible if I'm in my right mind."

"Hah, fair enough. Butler, bring that out."

"That... you mean that, sir?"

Glen the bald butler asked back, clearly startled.

Zet Frost nodded, and the butler rose from his seat with a serious expression.

He crossed to a glass display case in the corner and brought back a bottle and some glasses.

It was obviously liquor, and the moment he set it on the table, Brett Lloyd shouted.

"Luavor, thirty years!"

"What, you know this drink?"

"Know it? I think Kubharu and I talked about nothing but this whiskey for a whole hour once."

Never thought I'd see it here...

Watching him mutter to himself in excitement, Judith and Airen both couldn't hide their bewilderment.

Zet Frost, unlike them, laughed heartily, popped the cork, and poured the drink into five glasses, glug, glug.

'Pretty sure he poured himself about one and a half times as much as everyone else...'

Brett thought it to himself but kept his mouth shut. It was Zet Frost's liquor, after all.

His gaze lingered longer on Judith's glass instead.

Her glass, too, held noticeably more than everyone else's.

'Should I offer to switch with her?'

Brett considered it for a moment, then decided against it.

The mood was too serious. He was serious too, but he doubted anyone else would see it that way.

Of course, nobody spared a thought for his inner turmoil.

With Judith, Airen, and Glen the butler all watching him, Zet Frost spoke.

"I'll say it again, thank you. For waking me from the narrow view I'd been trapped in, for giving new fire to a man who'd lost his drive and was just going through the motions... all thanks to you. Especially you, Judith. I wanted to say thank you to you most of all."

"Well, glad it helped. I got some good lessons out of it too, so thanks right back. Please take care of us for the last ten days."

"I will. My short-sightedness dragged the mood down for a while, but all's well that ends well, they say. Let's blow away any bad feelings with this drink, and end the day holding onto only the good parts. Now, raise your glasses!"

Zet Frost declared it heartily.

He'd had maybe two or three cups of honey wine at most, but his face was already flushed red.

His emotions ran just as deep, as though the mood itself had gotten him drunk.

Glen the butler felt the same way.

He'd served Zet Frost for decades, but it had been a long, long time since he'd seen him this full of life.

He too lifted his glass with a bright expression, followed by Airen and Brett.

And a beat behind them, Judith finally reached for her own glass.

Soon all five glasses clinked together, and everyone brought their cups to their lips with happy faces.

Everyone except Judith.

'...This is definitely a hundred percent hard liquor.'

Eyes wavering, Judith stared at her glass and glanced around at everyone else.

Zet Frost, Glen the butler, Airen, even Brett, famous for his tolerance, all of them were wrinkling their noses.

The embarrassing memory from the first day she'd met Kubharu and Lulu surfaced automatically in her mind.

But there was no way she could refuse to drink.

The mood wouldn't allow it.

'...One glass should be fine.'

It's fine, this much is nothing.

Steeling herself, Judith gulped down the Luavor, thirty years, filled all the way to the rim of the glass.

Zet Frost watched her with a satisfied look, while Brett Lloyd's face fell with regret.

He couldn't help thinking that Luavor, thirty years, was too precious a drink to waste on some rookie who couldn't even appreciate it.

'Well, one glass should be fine... she won't drink more than that. Not after what happened last time.'

But Brett didn't know.

Luavor, thirty years, nearly sixty percent alcohol, poured as generously as Zet Frost's own affection, one glass alone was more than enough to get Judith drunk.

"Oh? It's strong, but it tastes better than I thought?"

"...!"

A drunk Judith turned into a monster who had never heard the word restraint.

"Hey, you should stop..."

"Stop, my ass! I can have more, right?"

"Hah! Why not. I brought it out meaning to empty every drop anyway. Here, one more!"

"Heehee, thank you! Kuh... it's amazing. It's really strong, but it's so good. Brett, you should drink more too. You like this stuff, don't you?"

"....."

Brett and Airen exchanged a glance.

They wanted to stop her.

But they couldn't.

Just as Judith hadn't been able to refuse the first glass because of the mood, neither of them could bring themselves to suggest moderation in the middle of it all.

Zet, Glen the butler, and Judith were all already well past tipsy.

Of course, their pleasant evening shattered to pieces about an hour later.

"Fuck..."

"....."

"I'm going to kill them... kill them all, those bastards..."

"Judith, are you okay? You seem pretty drunk..."

"Oh, Airen! Worried about your noona, huh? Hihihi, hehehehehe... huh, wait, why do you keep moving back and forth like that. Huh? Even you, butler-nim... hey, butler-nim, when did you go bald?"

"....."

"...Ah, sleepy."

She spat out curses at random, laughed like a lunatic, blurted out rude nonsense out of nowhere, and then, before anyone could even get angry, passed out cold.

"Well, good thing she didn't start bawling this time."

"She cries too, when she's like this?"

"Yes. Last time, she did."

"...Should've poured her less, in hindsight."

"You can say that again."

Zet Frost shook his head and Brett Lloyd clicked his tongue, both watching the unconscious Judith.

Glen the butler carried her to her room, wearing an expression like he'd been personally wounded.

In the middle of all that chaos, Airen Farreira wore a faint, complicated smile.

Not every part of it had been good, but he thought that days like this weren't so bad, once in a while.

* * *

The day after that drinking session, embarrassing for some and exhausting for others, ended.

The three swordsmen and their one master picked up their training again as if nothing had happened.

If anything, their days grew even more intense than before, packed with a heavier schedule.

Airen Farreira felt it too.

The stars of that night had been Zet Frost and Judith, but he'd taken away plenty from it himself.

'Fear of defeat, and overcoming it...'

It was something he hadn't thought deeply about until now.

Carrying a fighting spirit meant becoming desperate to win.

It meant you could draw greater drive, greater strength, from that stimulation.

But flip that thought around, and it also meant growing that much more afraid of losing, that much more terrified of falling behind.

He'd already seen, through Charlot and Victor, how ugly a person consumed by that kind of emotion could become, how pathetically they could crumble.

'Whatever way I choose, I need to become someone who can overcome the fear that competition brings.'

Stepping back from competition entirely and focusing purely on his own sword, the way Zet Frost did.

Or becoming someone hardened enough to withstand any kind of competition, the way Judith did.

He still didn't know which path was his. Maybe he'd end up walking an entirely different one.

There was no need to rush the decision, though.

The journey wasn't over yet.

'The more experience I gather, the more I'll find my own sword, eventually.'

Airen resolved himself firmly, gave his all through the remaining ten days of training, and finally reached the farewell gathering for Zet Frost with a satisfied expression.

Unlike the previous occasion, no liquor made it to the table this time.

Instead there was good food and drink, along with Lulu, Kubharu, and Hall Master Hyram, who hadn't joined them before, all seated together.

It was a pleasant time.

In the middle of that lively, chattering atmosphere, Zet Frost asked Airen's group a question.

"Have you all decided your next destination? Ah, didn't you say you were heading to the Grave of the Blood Demon?"

"Yes."

The Blood Demon.

A calamity that had appeared long before the Dragon King's rampage four hundred years ago, a demon finally slain by a hero whose very name had since faded from memory.

Legend held that the demon's body, cleaved in two by the hero, became two hills, and that where the deep sword wound had once been, a river now ran in place of blood.

"I hear plenty of swordsmen who've visited that place come away with real insight... so there's no reason not to go. It's only a week's travel too."

"Hm. I see. But there's no need to go right this moment, is there?"

"...I suppose not?"

"In that case, I'd recommend stopping somewhere else first. Have you heard of the Land of Proof?"

"Ah..."

Airen's group nodded at the same time.

Of course they knew it.

Wasn't the arena known as the Land of Proof the pride of Caliad Kingdom, one of the Western Five Kingdoms?

They'd marked it as a place to visit someday, but the distance had pushed it further down their list.

Still, Zet Frost wouldn't have brought it up without reason.

Brett asked him about it, and Zet answered readily.

"Because there's someone there you won't be able to resist rushing off to see the moment you hear the name. Word is the overall level at the Land of Proof has shot up dramatically ever since she arrived. Skilled fighters from all over the region heard the rumors and flocked there, they say."

"....."

The same figure surfaced in the minds of Airen Farreira, Judith, and Brett Lloyd, all at once.

The one who had handed every one of them defeat.

And yet, rather than staying at the fencing hall, she'd struck out into the wider world to carve her own path.

From Zet Frost's mouth came her name.

"Illia Lindsay... she's currently the champion of the Land of Proof."

Along with the startling fact that the gifted daughter of House Lindsay had conquered the Land of Proof.

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