WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈

Chapter 25: Winter in Limbus Pit (6)

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The head butler left Julian’s room and immediately stepped out of the mansion.

“...It’s still snowing.”

It was the height of blizzard season, and the world beyond the estate had turned completely white.

The butler paused to think.

How many times had the young master seen a world like this since coming to the estate?

‘There was a time when he looked upon this white world with such bright eyes.’

Children were naturally excited by snow.

Even Julian, who had lost his parents early and never learned how to socialize with children his own age, would unconsciously smile whenever he saw snow.

But at some point, Julian began looking at that white world differently.

The corners of his mouth, once faintly raised in anticipation of a snowball fight, had been replaced by an artificial smile.

‘It was as though he was looking not at the snow, but at the polluted mana it contained.’

Had he matured too quickly?

Unusually for someone his age, he had begun looking beneath the surface rather than at what lay before his eyes.

Yet even then, he did not stop wearing that faint smile as he gazed upon the white world.

As though he were putting on a show for the adults, pretending that he still possessed a child’s innocence.

Today had been the same.

“...”

Before he knew it, the butler had arrived at the annex.

He stopped thinking and brushed the snow from his shoulders.

After making sure he had knocked the snow from his shoes as well, the old butler stepped inside.

He stood at the entrance for a while, warming himself before heading to the drawing room.

Knock, knock.

When the door opened, a man seated on the sofa came into view.

The man sat with his back perfectly straight, as though uncomfortable in the room.

The moment the old butler entered, he sprang to his feet.

Wilhelm offered the man a handshake.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Shen.”

“It’s all right, sir.”

The scar-covered man accepted the handshake deferentially.

His name was Shen.

To the public, he was known as the captain of Ironclad’s Special Task Division.

“You handled the mission splendidly.”

Wilhelm sat on the sofa across from him.

As usual, he wore a kindly smile and patted his knee.

Despite that friendly demeanor, Shen did not relax.

He sat upright on the sofa, watching the old man carefully.

Amid the uncomfortable atmosphere, the head butler prepared two teacups and placed one before himself and one before Shen.

“I’m not familiar with you beastfolk’s tea customs. I’ll serve it the way I know. Is that all right?”

“I’m grateful simply to be served tea, sir.”

Without waiting for Shen’s reply, Wilhelm poured the hot water.

Each cup filled with steaming water.

Only after dropping a teabag into each one did the butler speak again.

“...Come to think of it, when did we first meet?”

“A year ago, around this time, sir.”

“Right. Only a year has passed. That isn’t very long for me to have come to trust you, is it?”

Shen’s shoulders stiffened.

He nodded rigidly.

“Do you remember? Last year, Young Master rescued you and your tribespeople from that vulgar circus. Then he invited you, as their representative, to dine with him.”

“...I am truly grateful for Young Master’s boundless grace.”

“But do you remember how you repaid Young Master’s kindness?”

Shen squeezed his eyes shut.

His memories returned to that day when the world had turned white and the cold had cut to the bone.

* * *

Shen and his tribe had lived lives closer to objects than to people.

At the slave market in H Sector of Limbus Pit, they were displayed like livestock behind iron bars, sold like merchandise, and returned once people grew tired of them.

Their lives were an endless repetition of that cycle.

Those taken above became dolls.

Sometimes, they became test subjects for mages who had only just learned magic. Other times, they became targets for swordsmanship practice.

If not that, then toys for relieving stress.

Once the nobles grew tired of them, they were cast back into Limbus Pit.

Even for slaves, the legal procedures required to kill them were bothersome.

Unable to endure that life, Shen’s father, the tribal chief, died.

The day after Shen inherited his position as chief, his tribe was returned to Limbus Pit as usual.

“Mom, where are we going?”

In the middle of the line descending into Limbus Pit, one of the tribe’s children spoke.

A long line stretched beneath the bridge, within the dark shadows.

Every person in line wore an identification tag around their neck, like livestock tags indicating quality.

<Transfer>, <Quarantine>, <Unregistered>...

Shen’s tribe was part of that line.

With <Citizen Number Unregistered> tags around their necks, they silently walked downward.

“Mom, I’m asking where we’re going again! Weren’t we supposed to live there?”

The child asked their mother.

While the adults endured their dreadful time above, this child had served as a noble young lady’s dress-up doll.

The child seemed unable to accept that they were being sent down again.

“Mom!”

The adults could not answer the child’s cries.

They had been exhausted by the death of their leader, the one person who had held them together.

Perhaps feeling sorry for the adults, the child suddenly left the line.

The exhausted adults did not even notice the child was gone.

Knock, knock.

The child approached a black vehicle descending into Limbus Pit alongside the line and knocked on its door.

By the time Shen noticed, the child had already knocked.

They were doomed.

That thought seized Shen and his tribespeople.

Cars were symbols of nobility.

And the child had knocked on one without knowing that.

“No!”

The child’s mother screamed too late.

Given the nobles they had encountered so far, it would not have been strange for the car window to lower and a gun barrel to point at the child’s forehead.

Unable to watch what came next, Shen and his tribespeople squeezed their eyes shut.

But what followed was different from what they had imagined.

The car did not react to the child’s knocking in the slightest.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Leaving behind soldiers who repeatedly bowed their heads, the car continued down into Limbus Pit as though nothing had happened.

That was all.

Without a single injury, another steel tag was added around the child’s neck before they returned to the line.

“Why would you do something like that?!”

“But... I made eye contact with the child inside the car!”

The mother roughly pulled the returned child into an embrace and scolded them.

The tribe’s adults also told the child never to do that again.

At the time, none of them could have imagined this would become a connection.

Then, that evening.

A smallfolk healer came to see Shen and his tribe, who had been sorted into the exhibition grounds of H Sector.

Wearing a crow mask, the healer introduced himself as Director Schnabel of the Merkuer Trading Company.

“I wanted to give that child some alms, but I was on my way to work and didn’t have time. So, is the child here?”

Beside the Director, who lifted his hat slightly in greeting, a young man who appeared to be his guard let out a sigh.

* * *

“If the head of the house scolds you for picking up things like these, I take no responsibility.”

“Don’t worry, Otto. This isn’t the first time. There were plenty before you, too.”

“Why bother with things like these...?”

“Who knows? Even pig dung can be used as medicine. Perhaps they’ll be useful somewhere.”

After purchasing the entire tribe, the Director sent them up to Civitas Square.

He transformed a trading company warehouse into lodging and provided the tribespeople with meals and simple treatment.

“Hmm. Even I can’t remove the scars when money is tight. But I’ll draw as much skin together as I can.”

Director Schnabel created miracles with nothing but a needle and thread.

After performing miracles on every tribesperson that rivaled a low-grade Heal, the Director provided them with warm meals and a place to sleep.

Then he invited Shen, the tribe’s representative, to an upscale restaurant.

“I hope the food suits your taste. Ah, you needn’t worry about manners. There’ll only be us here this evening.”

With the trading company president accompanying him like an attendant, Director Schnabel casually cut his meat as he spoke with Shen.

To Shen, it all felt like a lie.

No, he was certain it was a lie.

‘What is this noble plotting now?’

As a child, Shen had once believed the words of a noble who claimed to be his friend, only to be betrayed.

Since then, he had never believed in nobles’ goodwill.

He had learned then that, to nobles, friendship was no different from affection for a toy doll.

‘I need to escape before it’s too late.’

So, on the night of that first dinner, Shen stole several silver coins from Julian’s wallet while Julian was conducting night consultations, then fled.

Driven by the twisted sense of duty that he had to save at least his family from those evil hands.

The next morning, before he could even discuss escaping, Shen was caught and forced to kneel before the Director.

“Young Master. What shall we do with this one?”

The person who caught Shen was the head butler.

As though he had expected it, the head butler had already bribed Shen’s close associates.

Shen lowered his head at the old man’s cold voice from above.

Had he not expected this?

Now they would reveal their true nature.

They would remove their kind masks and reveal the sadism hidden beneath.

But after remaining silent for a long time, the Director in the crow mask said this.

“Why did you take silver coins? I would have given gold coins to those who wished to leave.”

Shen raised his head.

The eyes visible beyond the mask held neither anger nor contempt, only confusion.

“It seems there was a misunderstanding. I’ll ask again. Gold coins, a rope, or a dagger. Which will you choose?”

At that moment, Shen’s mind went blank.

* * *

“...I have not forgotten that day for a single moment.”

Shen answered in a hoarse voice.

He placed an empty sheath on the table.

That day, Shen’s tribe had been given the right to choose one of three things.

They could choose the rope, receive an education, and seize an opportunity.

They could choose gold coins, leave their nest, and start anew elsewhere.

Or they could choose the dagger, swear loyalty, and receive a promise of vengeance.

The Ironclad Special Task Force was made up of those who chose the third option.

Shen had been one of them.

“If I could, I would want nothing more than to turn back time.”

“Good. At least you have the decency to feel shame.”

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed.

At the same time, the air in the room turned cold.

“To be honest, I still don’t trust you.”

“...”

“Given my background, I’ve seen far too much of how ugly people can be. I’m the sort who believes people cannot be changed.”

“...”

“And I haven’t forgotten that you betrayed Young Master’s kindness. Do you know how deeply you hurt him?”

“His heartbreak must have been great...”

Tsk.

Wilhelm clicked his tongue, cutting Shen off.

“After that, Young Master stopped saying thank you to anyone outside this estate. Are you going to smooth that over with just the word ‘heartbreak’?”

“...”

“Even after you returned from completing this mission, he never asked me to convey his thanks until I brought it up.”

Wilhelm crossed his legs and looked down at his teacup.

Yes.

He remembered.

That was why Julian no longer smiled sincerely when he saw snow.

Shen was not the first person to betray Julian’s goodwill.

The many adults Julian had reached out to first had always betrayed it.

The servants of this estate, the other executives of the Merkuer Trading Company, even the patients who had received treatment in Limbus Pit.

Filthy adults had thoroughly betrayed a child’s pure goodwill.

Whenever that happened, Julian always reacted like this.

“They are people with many wounds. I should understand.”

But Julian, the one saying those words, could not help being wounded as well.

The child who had grown wise beyond his years had become too skilled at hiding those wounds, and it took the old butler time to notice.

By the time he did, Julian had begun assigning explanations to all the goodwill directed toward him, as well as all the goodwill he offered.

“This... yes. I only did it out of courtesy.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It was only natural.”

After that, Julian no longer expressed sincere gratitude.

And only the head butler, who had cared for Julian since he was one year old, could recognize that fact.

The one consolation was that this condition had begun to improve a little two years earlier.

After being accepted by the family of House Nihirit, Julian had stopped making excuses for goodwill, at least within this estate.

But Shen had dealt a severe setback to Julian’s gradually improving state.

Grit.

Remembering that, the old butler gritted his teeth, forgetting even his dignity.

He lifted his teacup.

He waved it once beneath his nose, calming the emotions rising within him before continuing.

“Young Master was someone with many wounds. I thought they were only just beginning to heal, yet you went and dug into them again. I don’t think that can be described as heartbreak.”

“I believe I committed a sin worthy of death. I’m prepared to atone for the rest of my life.”

How many times had they already had this conversation?

Still, Shen could not complain.

A wound from a blade might leave only a scar, but the wound left by having an outstretched hand bitten rotted away inside.

Now that he knew Julian’s goodwill had never been hypocrisy or deceit, Shen could not complain about the head butler hating him this much.

Shen himself suffered from terrible self-loathing every day.

“I’ll say it again. I don’t trust you. Betrayal is only difficult the first time.”

“...”

“So even if you say you’ll atone for the rest of your life, it doesn’t inspire much confidence. Can you not offer a more specific goal? Frankly, I’d feel more at ease if you simply told me when you intend to leave.”

At the head butler’s sharp question, Shen hesitated for a moment.

Then he spoke again.

“I will atone until I receive words of thanks from the young master.”

The head butler’s shoulders flinched.

It meant Shen also knew what state Julian was in.

“...You had better.”

Wilhelm took a sip of tea and gently closed his eyes.

When the old butler opened them again, the sharpness in his gaze had returned to its usual kindness.

“Very well. Let us now discuss the rewards Young Master prepared for your efforts.”

The old butler began listing the rewards Julian had prepared for the man seated across from him.

Yet as more rewards were named, the hearts of the two adults left in the room only grew heavier.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a garden filled with white lilies.

One day, several red roses grew in that garden.

A young lily approached the roses and asked,

“Hello. Isn’t the sunlight lovely today?”

But instead of answering, the roses pricked the lily with their thorns.

The wounded lily asked another rose,

“Waaah. Why did that flower prick me?”

But that rose pricked the lily as well, without offering any explanation.

“That hurts... Why are the flowers pricking me...?”

The lily asked another wounded rose.

And that rose pricked the lily, too.

A long time passed, and a new lily came to the garden from afar.

“Wow, what a beautiful garden! I want to be friends with all of you!”

At that moment, the lily covered in wounds screamed in terror.

“Don’t come closer! You’re trying to hurt me, aren’t you? You’re trying to tear me apart, aren’t you?”

The wounded lily mercilessly slashed apart the flower approaching it.

Then, when the lily came to its senses, it realized something.

The petals of the red flower that had approached it were white.

What had truly turned red was its own vision.

And the thorns that had hurt it had, at some point, densely covered its own body.

“Ah... Aah...”

The lily that had pricked its new friend cried out.

“I should apologize right away...”

But when the wounded lily saw its thorn-covered arms, it changed its mind.

“No. After all, I was... always this kind of flower.”

And instead of apologizing, it chose rationalization.

Several months later.

“What a beautiful rose garden.”

The once pure white flower garden had become a garden of red roses.

Footnotes:

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