WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 24: Winter in Limbus Pit (5)

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* * *

“Fuck.”

What followed was overwhelming.

To Wangcho, Tao Chen, it looked less like a battle and more like a massacre.

Shell casings, rarely seen in this cesspit, poured across the floor. Chainswords roared as their teeth tore through human bone.

“Why are men with guns coming here?!”

“You bastards! Do you even know who’s backing us?!”

Sometimes, someone would throw their weight around because they trusted their backers.

But Wangcho calmly blew one such clown’s head off with his hand cannon as he replied.

“If you’re waiting for the trading company backing you, they won’t come. You crossed the line too far.”

“What...?”

“Looks like you don’t know. Typical of you lot.”

Wangcho sighed and swung his hand axe.

That made five.

His skills had not rusted.

It was simply that a single hand axe could not match a gun’s killing speed.

Most impressive of all was the one called the captain.

‘What the hell is that?’

Wangcho’s gaze settled on the weapon in the captain’s hands.

Its muzzle was sealed shut, with a black crystal orb fixed to its end.

Yet it was not a magic staff either, since it was connected by cable-like straps to the mana furnace on his back.

‘He holds it like a gun, but it looks like a magic staff... What am I supposed to call that?’

He could not even guess what it was just from its appearance.

He had heard all magitech equipment was like this.

The moment the captain entered the theater, he checked the gauges dangling from his back and began filling a notebook with messy equations.

Shielded by the other members, he diligently calculated the variables. Only after ten minutes did he join the battle.

“Fall back. [Kristarubr, provas tibdona.]”

With a short incantation, the staff spewed fire.

Dozens of charging clowns were engulfed in flames, and even the white-faced ones who resisted briefly turned to ash in an instant.

At the center of the sea of fire, Wangcho stared at the captain in horror.

“Mister, are you a mage?”

“A half-baked nobody like me cannot be called a mage. I cannot use magic without the aid of a measuring magical device.”

“What’s the difference?”

Someone who made magic on the spot, and someone who made magic with the help of a magical device.

To Wangcho, both were battlefield monsters all the same.

One thing was certain. The moment he made an enemy of this captain, he would end up roasted whole.

The captain continued forward with that momentum, all the way to the clowns’ boss.

“Ho ho ho! What rude guests we have here! You people are... Gyaaaah! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!”

The King of Fools was introducing himself, his belly wobbling beneath a frayed silk vest.

But before he could finish, the special operations team captain spewed fire at him.

“Gah, gah, gah! Stop it!”

Even so, having only just entered the first rank, he endured the flames and charged forward after transforming his royal scepter into a mace.

But Wangcho had no intention of letting that happen.

“Die quietly, you disgusting bastard.”

Thunk!

Wangcho’s hand axe buried itself in the back of his head.

The clown king toppled forward and scraped his face across the floor.

“Gyaah! Gyaaah!”

The King of Fools rolled around frantically, trying to put out the fire clinging to his body.

The captain silently watched the fat clown before snapping his fingers to extinguish the flames.

“Huh? Mister? Out of mana?”

The captain did not answer and kept watching the charred King of Fools.

Eventually, as the smoke rising from his body faded, the captain approached the enormous lump of charcoal.

“Hack... Hck...”

“King of Fools.”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you know the difference between a madman, a human, and a beast?”

The captain knelt before the barely living King of Fools.

“Wh-who...?”

“Those were the words you said to me. If madmen, humans, and beasts are different, prove it yourself.”

As he spoke, the captain raised a hand to his gas mask.

Hiss.

With a sharp sound, the pressure holding the gas mask to his face was released.

The bare face revealed through the white steam was terribly distorted.

His cheeks were covered in scars where burns and stitches tangled together. The corners of his mouth had been torn to his ears and sewn shut.

“N-no way...!”

Then the other members approached from behind the captain.

One removed their gas mask. They had no nose.

Another removed a glove. They only had three fingers.

Another loosened a throat guard. Where their vocal cords should have been, there were only scars.

The captain lined them up like a folding screen, then pulled the axe from the back of the clown king’s head.

“I... no, we still have not found an answer to your question.”

The captain took a thick magitech grenade from his coat.

“But there is one thing we know for certain.”

He forced the King of Fools’ mouth open.

His jaw dislocated with a crack, but the captain did not care as he shoved the grenade into his mouth.

“With just a rope, a gold coin, and a dagger, a person can become a beast for someone else.”

The captain recalled the smallfolk Director in a crow mask.

That day had been snowy, just like today.

“You chose the dagger? Hmm... Very well. If you seek revenge.”

“You truly kept your promise.”

“Mmff...! Mmff!”

The captain took out the dagger he had received that day and drove it into the King of Fools’ heel.

“Mmph...!”

“This settles the account.”

The other members likewise drove daggers into the tendons of those they had brought along.

Their daggers bore the word Vergeltung, meaning Retribution.

Once they had finished their respective tasks, they returned to the members who had kept their gear on.

“Good work.”

“Is it not our turn yet?”

“If we wait, it will come. Where did you say you were from?”

“Rotmund.”

For some reason, Wangcho felt that the members who had removed their masks looked brighter.

Meanwhile, the captain’s distorted lips twitched a few times.

“Go on, then. This time, you prove it. Let’s find out how hard it is for lunatics to hold back their laughter.”

After coldly delivering those words to the fallen clown, he turned around.

The Ironclad members, along with the stunned Wangcho, followed behind.

Step. Step.

When they reached the theater entrance, the fishing line caught on the captain’s fingertip pulled taut.

From the stage came the King of Fools’ desperate groan as he noticed the line.

“Mmffff...!”

Without looking back, the captain pulled the fishing line.

As the line unwound, a clear metallic sound rang out from within the theater.

Ting.

* * *

It had been three days since the heavy snowfall began.

Once again this year, I was stuck in the manor, killing time.

‘Ah, I really feel like having a snowball fight.’

Sadly, I had no friends to have one with, and there was no romance to be found in snow soaked with filthy smog.

If you got hit by the wrong snowball, you would not catch a cold. You would ruin your health.

You might even get the other-world version of Minamata disease from a snowball fight.

I was not joking. Seriously.

More importantly, the character I had established for myself was the quiet, melancholic type...

If anything, I was supposed to be the one getting pelted with snowballs by little troublemakers like Eri.

I was not supposed to be the one throwing them.

To be even more precise, I was not supposed to go outside at all.

I was the sort of character who drank tea in his room and merely reviewed the occasional report brought by the butler.

“Young Master. It has been handled well.”

Just like now.

...Wait. What had been handled?

“Perhaps because they were cleaners personally selected by you, Young Master, they cleaned very thoroughly.”

“Cleaners... you say.”

I thought I understood what the head butler meant.

It meant they had made an example of the clowns who attacked me.

Well, considering their equipment, it was only natural.

I had never thought from the start that they would fail the mission.

When I nodded, the head butler continued his report.

“I also informed the Security Bureau in advance, so you will have no trouble with the aftermath.”

I froze for a moment at that report.

Ah, right. I had forgotten.

Calling in my private soldiers through the head butler had been fine, but I had not considered the cleanup afterward.

At the time, I had been too angry to think clearly.

Fortunately, the head butler appeared to have taken care of that part himself.

So, as naturally as if I had trusted him from the beginning, I continued the conversation.

“As expected of you, Head Butler. May I ask how you handled it?”

“Yes. We have agreed to make a donation in the form of a special scholarship for Hero Academy, under the Security Bureau’s name.”

The head butler’s work was impeccable.

Even nobles were not permitted to kill people within the walls as they pleased.

This was still a society where laws existed, at least in name.

‘They say even in the medieval era, where barbarism and romance coexisted, nobles were not allowed to kill people however they liked.’

But every matter had exceptions.

This Empire had a somewhat unusual custom.

“In return, the Security Bureau has agreed to overlook a certain opportunity to restore one’s honor.”

Nobles were granted their titles because they had the power to protect people from the magical beasts beyond the walls.

If a noble who had received such a title was somewhere crying after getting beaten up, it made the Empire that bestowed the title look terrible.

So this macho Empire offered nobles beaten by their inferiors two choices.

They could live as dishonorable super-cowards who borrowed public authority to get revenge after being beaten.

Or they could prove the machismo slumbering within a noble’s heart.

The latter, which had become customary, was called an opportunity to restore one’s honor.

“You have worked hard. How much was the donation?”

“It was not a significant amount. Since it was an H Sector matter, the Security Bureau had little interest. Five years’ worth of scholarships were enough.”

To carry out this custom, one needed to show enough sincerity to make the Security Bureau turn a blind eye for a little while.

In my case, I showed that sincerity through a donation in place of bail.

“You handled it well.”

“You flatter me.”

Thanks to that, I no longer needed to worry about the aftermath.

Now I only had to consider how to reward the subordinates who had completed the mission successfully.

I ran my fingers over the handle of my teacup and considered what reward to give them.

‘I need to make sure they have no cause for resentment...’

The higher one climbed, the more one had to avoid giving subordinates a reason to become upset.

Especially subordinates carrying blades.

How many third-rate supporting characters had I seen in countless works and throughout history who treated their subordinates poorly or acted stingy, only to fall miserably?

Misunderstanding stories were no exception.

No, I needed to take even better care of them, since they were the source of my plausibility.

‘The company will give them prize money, too...’

But money would not work.

They were probably already receiving generous bonuses from the company. I doubted they would be particularly impressed if I added a personal reward.

I needed to reward them in a slightly different way.

‘Hmm...’

After giving it some thought, I came up with a reward I could personally give them.

“Head Butler.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Could you look into a dessert shop in Civitas Square where children can get something to eat?”

“...Forgive me, but may this old man dare ask what you intend?”

“The mission is over, so they have probably brought in some new children, have they not?”

Those Ironclad gentlemen.

They had always had a strange habit.

They always picked up orphans and slaves from their mission sites.

People who had been imprisoned somewhere or abused.

Whenever I sent them on a mission, they would rescue such people and give them a new life.

And I was probably not the only one who knew this.

“You do not need to pretend not to know, Head Butler. You knew, did you not?”

“My apologies, Young Master.”

The head butler hurriedly bowed his head.

Strictly speaking, what the private soldiers were doing was insane.

Leaving their area of operations, wasting unnecessary resources, and bringing in unverified people.

From the corporate logic that treated security and efficiency as sacred, it was the sort of thing that could get them physically beheaded without complaint.

What employer would tolerate private soldiers paid with their own money fooling around during work hours and bringing in unvetted outsiders?

No matter how kind an employer I was, this was clearly overstepping their authority.

And the head butler, who knew this yet had not reported it to me, could not be free of blame either.

“I was not trying to deceive you.”

“I know. That is why I have not said anything.”

But even knowing this, I had overlooked the head butler’s and their independent actions.

The people I had saved would save others, and those people would naturally have loyalty toward me instilled in them.

That was a very classic cliché for building influence in misunderstanding stories or territory-management stories.

Besides, there was no reason to criticize them for doing something good.

But their quiet good deeds were over now.

“You no longer need to hide it from me. Does it not seem strange from the start? Why should doing good require watching your step?”

“Young Master...”

“So, let us make sending snacks for the children the reward for this mission. That should be all right, yes?”

“An excellent choice, Young Master.”

Of course, sending snacks meant I was openly giving them permission from now on.

Furthermore, it meant I would contribute some money as well.

“...How much would an orphanage cost?”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. I was talking to myself.”

I did not forget to drop the hint that, if they kept this up, I might even build them an orphanage.

In this world, an orphanage was not something one could simply build just because one had some money.

Space inside the walls was limited, so real estate prices had gone completely insane.

This was not a setting where people struggling just to survive had enough kindness left to build homes for rootless orphans.

Giving even a hint that one could build an orphanage was not something done lightly.

‘I am making a pretty big commitment here, too.’

The head butler understood that well, and his eyes widened.

“Young Master...? Are you serious?”

“I believe I asked you to forget it.”

“My apologies. This old man seems to be growing forgetful in his age.”

The head butler hurriedly bowed.

Seeing that meticulous and perfect butler flustered for a moment made preparing the surprise worthwhile.

“Then please handle it as I asked.”

“I will do as you command, Young Master.”

The head butler turned his back to me.

Then, as though something had occurred to him, he turned around again.

“Young Master. Is there anything else you wish to say?”

“Hmm...”

I thought for a moment.

Why was someone who normally received orders and departed cleanly acting like that?

‘What is he expecting?’

It had been a while since I considered the conventions of misunderstanding stories.

The protagonist made a thoughtless decision over some trivial trigger, a loyal subordinate carried it out well, and everything was resolved.

What did the protagonist do afterward...?

Ah.

‘I forgot to say thank you.’

These days, I had little reason to say thank you to anyone except my family.

It was not something I had often said in my previous life either, so the word did not come naturally to me.

Conscious of my image as a dignified protagonist, I adjusted my posture.

“I forgot because I was so distracted. Please convey my thanks to them as well.”

I set down my teacup and spoke with the most polite smile I could manage.

“Thank you again for this.”

“...”

The corners of the head butler’s mouth rose slightly.

As expected, that had been the right answer.

In misunderstanding stories, one word worked better than a pile of gold coins.

I met the head butler’s eyes and smiled.

The head butler smiled as well.

“...Your words are more than we deserve.”

Yet something felt strange.

The head butler was clearly wearing a benevolent smile, but his expression did not seem bright somehow.

Was it because we had known each other for so long?

That smile felt less like his usual sincerity and more like a pretense.

How should I put it? It was like the expression of someone who had received a gift, only to realize that while the wrapping was beautiful, the box inside was empty.

Before I could even wonder why the head butler reacted that way, he spoke.

“Then I will take my leave.”

The head butler bowed a little more deeply than usual, then quietly closed the door.

I stared at the closed door for a long time.

‘Something feels off.’

But no matter how much I thought about it, I could not come up with a reason for the head butler to react that way.

In the end, I decided it was just my imagination and lifted the cooling teacup again.

Footnotes:

Minamata disease is mercury poisoning caused by industrial contamination, which makes Julian’s joke about polluted snow especially grim.

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