44

I didn’t intervene in the argument before me and simply watched in silence.

This was likely a coincidental encounter, so I was curious to see how they would handle it.

(They wouldn’t be foolish enough to challenge me again after being crushed twice while I was holding back… ah, I see. Maybe they needed money for treatment and came here to do—or to find—something.)

Or perhaps there was something ahead on their path.

I kept watching their exchange, but there was no sign of it ending.

‘Can I just go now?’ I thought, weary, and decided to bypass them and move forward.

Immediately, the voices behind me grew louder.

I could only make out two phrases: “Stop it” and “Hold him back.” They were talking a lot, but too fast to follow.

As I turned to leave, something fell behind me.

From the sound, it was a stone—thrown by someone.

I didn’t know what they were aiming for, but since I had no interest in getting involved, I ignored it and kept walking. Then I heard a magic incantation.

‘So you’re at it again,’ I thought, turning around.

A busty sorceress in a witch hat and robe, who had been restrained, unleashed magic to blast away the man behind her, then leapt toward me.

She landed unsteadily halfway between me and the mercenary band, straightened her back, and looked me squarely in the eyes.

(Hold on… this sorceress…)

As the distance closed, I realized—she might be a woman I knew.

If so, perhaps she had come to offer thanks.

But when she saw that I was watching, she took a breath, grabbed her robe, and pulled it sharply downward.

Her full bosom sprang free, shaking as it was released to the open air before settling back into shape.

Her large chest was bared, proudly asserting its presence before me.

‘Truly magnificent breasts, as always,’ I thought, nodding.

She then fixed her clothes to cover them.

‘What, already over?’ I thought, disappointed. But then she began walking toward me.

I had to stop and watch carefully—who expected the first move to be “breasts”?

(Ah… so she used that as a way to stop me? Brilliant!)

Of course, that wasn’t it.

Nor was it repayment for last time.

She knew I was a monster, and human values didn’t apply to me.

Yet she had shown me her breasts anyway—

(Wait. Could she think I remembered her only as “the one with the chest”?)

Yes, I did remember her by her breasts.

‘I really am sorry,’ I apologized silently, focusing on her movements.

She came right up to me, while the mercenaries all quietly watched.

She thrust her staff into the ground and began scratching something into it.

It wasn’t writing—she was drawing.

After a while, the image became clear.

(A snake, huh?)

The drawing was so good for something made on dirt that I almost clapped.

But what was the point of drawing a snake?

If she was saying “I’m searching for this snake,” I’d need more detail.

When she saw I was watching, she pointed to the mercenary band.

Then she pointed to herself. Then to me.

Finally, she struck the drawn snake with her staff.

(Ah, so not searching for it—she wants me to help them defeat it.)

I pondered.

(To be honest, there’s no benefit in this for me. Maybe it’s an invitation to “go hunting together,” but it looks like they’re just relying on my strength. Without compensation…)

Then, a bright idea struck me.

I set down my pack, opened a container stuffed with cloth, and pulled out a single bottle.

Holding it before her eyes, I raised my other hand to show “5.”

In other words: Five of these potions, and I’ll accept.

(Normally, it’s impossible to negotiate with a monster. That’s common sense. So I wondered—how would she interpret this?)

As expected, her eyes widened, she muttered something, and stepped back.

But then, as if resolved, she shouted to the mercenaries behind her.

Likely asking them to confirm the potion. Among the replies, I caught the word “two.”

Understanding the meaning of negotiating with a monster, her hand on the staff trembled.

(Common sense and values collapsing—it was no wonder her face was pale.)

She drew three bottles on the ground—an admission that they only had three.

That meant there was no room to compromise at four.

I felt like pressing her further, but decided not to overburden her.

So I pulled out another potion and held it up, showing “2” with my fingers.

Specifically, thumb and index finger—Imperial-style counting.

Some countries started with the index finger instead, but there were a few methods.

Three blue potions, two green ones—this was my condition.

She nodded.

To show agreement, she circled the five bottles she’d drawn.

I nodded back, put the potions away, and shouldered my pack. Then I gently picked her up.

She seemed startled but didn’t resist—her own show of resolve.

Naturally, I adjusted my grip so her breasts brushed my fingers.

At first, I had wondered if she was Number 6 or 7, but now I was sure—she was Number 7.

So I carried her on my shoulder, lumbering toward the mercenaries.

They were noisy, but I paid them no mind.

She held tightly to my head so she wouldn’t fall from the jostling.

(Hmm, not a bad feeling.)

Satisfied, I set her down before the greatsword mercenary.

“Is this really okay?”

That seemed to be what he was asking.

She responded in a slightly trembling voice.

Among her words, I caught the phrase “give them a taste of their own medicine.” It didn’t quite fit the context.

That got me thinking.

(So, they’re not here of their own will… more like they were forced. Why? The last battle is the only reason I can think of… ah, smells like a noble’s involvement.)

That would also explain “give them a taste of their own medicine.”

In other words, because of their previous defeat, this mercenary band had been ordered to slay the “snake.”

But most of them were injured and unfit to fight such an enemy.

So they wanted to rely on me to overturn the schemes of some noble or whoever was behind this.

(Not a situation I dislike.)

As I stood there, the greatsword mercenary approached cautiously, speaking with a stiff face.

I swatted him with my tail, as if to say, ‘Don’t come too close, you stink.’

Laughter rippled around, but his expression remained hard—he was clearly wary of me.

From their chatter, it seemed the captain often got teased by his men about his smell.

Not a bad atmosphere for a mercenary band, I thought—and I found myself a little envious of their camaraderie.

(Still, a snake even this captain and the sorceress can’t beat? What kind of snake could that be?)

I had nothing like it in my knowledge, so it might be a new species.

I accepted the potions, stowed them, and lumbered after the mercenary band, tilting my head in thought.

Since our paces differed, I moved slowly.

At least I could keep watch on our surroundings for them.

But nothing unusual happened, and with nothing to distract me, mischief welled up inside.

With a grin, I eyed the mercenary band from behind.

Mainly, the sorceress’s backside—but really, her rear was as fine as her chest.