55

I almost reached out to twist the damn hag’s neck right then and there, but somehow endured without moving even a single finger.

I owed her thanks for casting such a shady-sounding spell called “Domination,” but it was too early to repay her.

After all, right now I could understand Elven speech.

It was likely a side effect of the Domination spell, but if I killed this hag, the caster, I didn’t know whether the effect would vanish or remain.

If it remained, there would be no problem. But since there was a chance it might not, snapping her neck now was premature.

The advantage of understanding language was enormous.

If maintaining it required some inconvenience or labor, I could tolerate that.

(But don’t forget—you’re still just a damn hag.)

If only she had been a gorgeous, voluptuous type—the sort who was a bit sloppy in private life, constantly showing glimpses of what shouldn’t be seen, giving orders while mistaking the pranks I played for her own mistakes, saying “oops” as she flaunted her indulgent body in disheveled clothes every day—then we might have had a long relationship.

Better yet, add in “constantly pressing her chest against me under the pretense of examining my body like a researcher.”

Just as I was sighing with relief, thinking, ‘I almost forgot the important part,’ my mind returned to reality.

Unfortunately, the one who had cast Domination on me was this hag—reality was cruel.

And so I stood quietly, listening to the argument unfolding between the hag and what seemed to be some high-ranking elf.

In summary: the hag claimed, “No matter if it’s taboo or not, I revived Domination and saved the village. I was right and justified.” The high-ranking elf retorted, “Don’t justify yourself with results. Your desires disrupt order. Face the judgment of law.”

“Knowledge is power. And power has value only when wielded properly. I can bring out its true worth—even forbidden techniques. To have a weapon and not use it in time of need is the height of folly. Let the Council of Sages discuss it again and again, lest wisdom and power be reduced to useless ornaments.”

“Your true colors show, madwoman. I’ll grant your obsession with magic. But why do you think the forebears decreed these arts taboo? Because there was something so dangerous it had to be forbidden. If you can’t even grasp that from the fact it remains hidden, don’t you dare call yourself a sage.”

From what I gathered, this hag was regarded as a “magic-crazed dangerous individual.”

‘This is bad,’ I thought, recognizing how poor the situation was.

I could clearly picture futures where the hag sicced me on the elders, or where the elders tried to dispose of both me and her together.

The phrase “on the verge of violence” came to mind.

But then, an unexpected figure intervened.

“Perhaps you two should stop here?”

Stepping out from the surrounding elves was Number 6.

It had been a while since I’d seen her, but she was as splendidly endowed as ever.

I was used to seeing her bullied by children, but this serious demeanor wasn’t bad either.

She stepped between the two, halting the argument, drawing their gazes.

The hag glared resentfully, while the elder looked exasperated.

“Tell me why the daughter of the esteemed Forshna clan sees fit to meddle?”

Was there venom in the words from jealousy? The hag questioned Number 6’s intent.

“The children have sensed the disturbance and are frightened. And regardless of monster or not, I question the propriety of using Domination to strip away its will.”

“Ha! Trust the Harmony Committee to say such things. Even a monster that devours the Nightmare is your target for sympathy?”

At that, the hag actually uttered the name of the Harmony Committee.

Its formal title was the Natural Harmony Committee, an organization that regarded monsters as part of nature and sought coexistence. It was often mocked thanks to a few eccentrics in its ranks, but most members were ordinary elves who simply valued nature more than others.

“The crime lies not in using it on a monster, but in reviving it at all. That alone is far more grievous. I’d capture you this instant, but with that thing here, I cannot.”

The man spat the words while glancing at me.

It was information from 200 years ago, and I wondered how different things might be now. I wished the conversation would continue a bit longer.

Were they still shunned after all this time?

“In that case, how about we leave judgment on this matter to the Council of Sages?”

At Number 6’s suggestion, the man nodded, but the hag grimaced.

“Ha! So Forshna is siding with Zesato now? If it’s raised to the Council, you’ll get the result you want—using that body of yours.”

“I would never do such a thing!”

Number 6 immediately rejected the hag’s insinuation—but seeing it, I couldn’t help imagining the scene.

If my partner were still alive, I’d have been in danger.

(Dammit, just being near this voluptuous elf makes my thoughts turn pink. Does she give off pheromones or something?)

At any rate, the discussion ended with the matter to be brought before the Council of Sages, and the assembly dissolved. But before leaving, the man fixed the hag with a stern look.

“Lady Kirishia, there’s something you must hear.”

“Go on, boy from Zesato. I’ll graciously listen to your warning.”

“That creature crushed the Canaan Kingdom’s army and mercenaries without injury. It clearly stands opposed to humankind. Handle it with care.”

He turned to go, then stopped as if remembering something.

“Oh, right.”

He looked back.

“It has been given a name: Argos. The Kingdom of Canaan seems to have called it that. I thought you should know.”

The hag snorted and jerked her chin as if to say “Get going,” and the man departed until he was out of sight.

(Argos, huh… well, not a bad name. I don’t mind it.)

Though I was the subject, being a mere bystander had let me glean a bit about the situation here.

This hag Kirishia was a magic fanatic with no backing.

Number 6 belonged to a powerful clan called Forshna.

And that man was of the influential Zesato clan.

It seemed elven society had its factions too.

(This could get troublesome… but the benefit of understanding the language outweighed it. While this effect lasted, learning Elven had to be my top priority.)

For now, though, I could only wait for the hag’s orders.

Feigning a spell malfunction and tagging along with Number 6 might be fun, but I restrained myself.

Even ignorant as I was about magic, I could predict such a thing wouldn’t happen.

I wanted to look at Number 6 a little longer, but the hag began walking.

“Come, Argos.”

Since she said so, I followed.

As expected, my body moved on its own, and when I tried to resist, my movements became noticeably sluggish.

It seemed I couldn’t completely defy Domination. But if it wore off, I might lose my advantage of learning the language.

So for now, I decided to go along.

I still had many things to confirm, so it was best to obey for the time being.

(But once I’ve achieved my goal, that will be your end, hag.)

I fully intended to kill her eventually, but wondered what kind of “final scene” would be fitting.

Since my body walked on its own, I could afford to daydream—an unusual experience.

I discreetly moved my eyes to study the elves.

All of them were wary of me, and some were even completely terrified.

(It made sense, of course, that not every elf was a fighter. What I was told and what I saw with my own eyes were different things.)

But that meant I had to raise my expectations of how strong the warrior-types were.

Fewer but stronger individuals would be far more troublesome than a weak mass.

Not a welcome discovery.

Also, sleeveless outfits looked magnificent on the elven women’s sideboob.

But such attire would reach its true potential only on Number 6.

Unfortunately, she wore something with sleeves, so I’d have to wait for hotter weather.

While lost in such thoughts, we arrived at a large wooden house a short distance from the settlement.

(A house this big… maybe I could fit inside.)

Unfortunately, though the house was large, the entrance was normal size.

I could probably squeeze in, but depending on the layout, I might destroy it.

“Argos. You will wait here.”

As expected, I was left outside.

That erased any hesitation about twisting the hag’s neck.

But this wasn’t enough to break me.

I was used to sleeping outdoors. For the goal of learning the language, roughing it was no obstacle at all.

The only issue was whether I could still read books in this state.

(If only I could somehow get my hands on a book… but figuring out how to do that is the problem.)

“A difficult road ahead” was the perfect phrase.

Breaking through this mess of problems—that would be the true test.

I would have to obey the hag’s orders, making this a tough mission indeed.

But if I survived this infiltration, not only would I learn Elven, I could also resume my surveillance mission.

So my determination remained unshaken.

No matter the hardship, I could not be broken.

Just as I resolved this, the hag emerged from the house.

I thought, “Alright, I’ll just follow her again,” but in her hand was a tray with a massive chunk of meat.

“Food. Eat.”

She dropped the hunk of meat directly on the ground.

Was she seriously telling me to eat raw meat tossed onto dirt, not even on a plate?

The hurdle was so high my mind blanked.

(Remember this, hag. I will never grant you a normal death!)

I watched her back as she left, then stared at the raw meat lying before me.