Chapter 46

The following morning.

Under the guise of a “stroll,” the trio—Lucas, Irene, and Elma—had made their way to the outskirts of the Frenzel territory, deep into the heart of the forest.

The forest, which rose gently from the vast and bountiful vineyards, became so steep the further one went that it was better described as a rugged mountain range.

Beside the narrow game trails, sheer cliffs occasionally revealed themselves. Below them, waves the color of dark lead even in the daylight shattered against the rock face, sending spray flying.

Gentle, nurturing nature existing side-by-side with a harsh, threatening wilderness—that was the hallmark of the Frenzel territory.

Irene, whose legs were screaming from the unaccustomed mountain trekking, called for a break. As she looked down at the sight beneath the cliffs before her, a chill ran down her spine.

“T-to think that just one step out of the forest leads straight to the sea… If someone fell from this cliff—oh, no, just thinking about it gives me the shivers.”

“Indeed.”

Elma, who sat down beside Irene out of politeness, stared intently over the edge of the cliff and nodded.

“The waves are quite fierce.”

Lucas, standing by the cliffside to instinctively shield the women, took a drink of water to parched his throat and raised an eyebrow.

“Ho, Elma. Even you can feel a shiver at the sight of rough seas?”

“But of course. Long-distance swimming is, in essence, a battle against the waves. Just thinking about how to soothe those bronco-like waves and swim through them gets my blood racing.”

“…Huh?”

For a fleeting second, their conversation seemed to align, but in reality, it was separated by a chasm as deep as an ocean trench.

As Lucas and Irene stood there agape, Elma continued in a nostalgic voice.

“I missed my chance this year, but long-distance swimming is a classic summer tradition, isn’t it? When I was small, I could only manage about 200 miles, but it’s a fond memory—slowly increasing my distance every year while occasionally dodging the meddling of Krakens or Leviathans.”

“You were swimming past the Exclusive Economic Zone!?”

“W-wait, was that Kraken you ate before actually from around here!?”

Both of them shouted in shock.

Elma, however, didn’t seem to hear them. Her gaze was fixed on a single point beyond the cliff.

“Using that gate-shaped rock at the base of the cliff over there as a starting point… how nostalgic.”

Her eyes were tracing the peaks toward the summit of the mountains. It was the deepest part of the forest, where the foliage was thickest and the terrain most forbidding.

A steep, frontier land overlooking the highest cliffs.

Between the trees whose leaves layered together to create darkness even at noon, the walls of a gloomy-colored building peeked through.

The outskirts of the Frenzel territory, the most treacherous location—yes, that was where the Walzer Prison stood, a place that gathered the most serious criminals from across the continent.

“Elma…”

Seeing her friend unable to look away from the distant prison, Irene’s eyes wavered.

Even with Elma’s true face hidden behind her glasses, Irene sensed a profound homesickness and gently touched her arm.

“You’re feeling nostalgic. …Well, of course you are. Even if it is a prison, it’s your home. It’s only natural to feel that way when you see it.”

“No, I rarely ever left the prison, so I shouldn’t really feel nostalgic just by seeing the exterior.”

When she put it that way, it made sense.

“—Wait, did you say ‘rarely’? Does that mean you were occasionally breaking out? Including that long-distance swimming story, is that what you meant?”

“And strictly speaking, rather than the prison itself, I’ve been feeling a sense of nostalgia every time I look down at the Frenzel territory from the mountains. I wonder why that is.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me.”

Lucas, who was settling comfortably into the role of the “only sane person,” interjected, but Elma remained puzzled and paid him no mind.

Irene, who fundamentally prioritized Elma over her employer, also ignored Lucas’s remark and placed a comforting hand on Elma’s arm.

“I can tell you why. It’s because you’re homesick after all. When I first went to the Royal Capital, I felt nostalgia not just for the scenery of my hometown, but for everything associated with it.”

“Is that so?”

When Irene explained it so earnestly, Elma nodded obediently.

Seeing her look so pure, Irene’s heart ached.

Elma.

This all-powerful, pure, and mysterious friend.

She had heard that the prison was a terrible environment, and the stories Elma told were always gruesome, but to this innocent girl, the prison was her hometown and her house.

Irene felt torn exactly in half—between her desire as a friend to keep Elma in a “decent” environment and her wish to let her return “home” as she desired. She asked softly:

“…Do you want to go back?”

Unconsciously, she tugged on her friend’s sleeve.

Elma tilted her head slightly and whispered…

“That’s true,” she replied.

Upon hearing this, Lucas and Irene quickly exchanged looks. It was a mix of guilt and—to be honest—the terrifying realization that if Elma ever attempted a “dynamic” homecoming, she might accidentally destroy an entire nation in the process.

“However, I cannot return yet. After all, since I decided this for myself, I cannot go back until I receive everyone’s official seal of approval for being ‘normal’.”

“That’s…”

Struggling for a response, both of them gave noncommittal nods. Lucas nearly let out some comforting words, something like, “If you handle this special mission without incident, I’m sure my brother-in-law will give you that seal of approval immediately.” But at that exact moment, the image of Deborah—who had undergone a dramatic “Before & After” and was now a devout Elma-worshipper—flashed through his mind, and he bit his tongue.

He couldn’t exactly say “without incident” with any confidence to someone who had sparked a beauty revolution and effectively enslaved a human being within hours of arriving. In fact, he felt that saying it would be a “death flag” for future peace.

Incidentally, ever since yesterday, Deborah had been clinging to Elma like a wet leaf—a fact that had prevented Elma from visiting the market—but since Elma had successfully shaken her off first thing this morning, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

“…Well, just do your best to spend today ‘ordinarily,’ at least.”

In the end, he settled for those safe words, laced with a hint of a warning. Lucas then turned back to the other two.

“Now then. I apologize for interrupting the sentimentality, but sightseeing the prison isn’t our main objective today. Further ahead, there should be a marsh nicknamed ‘The Deborah Swamp.’ According to local rumors, it’s a quagmire where even miasma drifts about.”

Indeed, he was putting the information he had gathered yesterday to immediate use by inspecting a specific location. Leveraging his rugged good looks to pull stories from the town’s women, the situation Lucas had uncovered was as follows:

Jonas, the Lord of Frenzel, had once been a prodigy—a child genius who, at age ten, invented the Ringing Chain to drive away Demon Moths. His wife, Elisa, whom he wed later, was known as the “Sun of Frenzel” for her beauty and cheerful disposition. The lord’s family was well-loved, and the future of the territory seemed bright.

Everything changed about ten years ago, triggered by Elisa’s death during the birth of her son, Kevin.

Jonas, who had adored his wife, became a man of few words. He kept the son his wife had died for confined to the mansion, almost as if hiding him from the people, and distanced himself from the boy. His daughter, Deborah, saw her “Miasma-Weak” symptoms worsen until she became a haughty, unattractive recluse. Kevin likewise spent his days shut away due to his frail health, never participating in the territory’s affairs.

Parallel to the decline of the lord’s family, Demon Moths that had apparently developed resistance to the Ringing Chain were occasionally spotted in the fields, fueling the people’s anxiety.

Frenzel is an independent land that doesn’t rely even on the Royal Capital. Normally, the people would petition the lord for a solution, but the current Jonas was completely unreliable. To top it off, rumors said that for the past several years, Jonas had been slipping out of the mansion at night to head deep into the forest.

The “depths of the forest” was a demonic region where magical beasts roamed and miasma pooled. According to a witness who had secretly followed him, Jonas wasn’t there to exterminate the threats as a lord should. Instead, he was seen kneeling at a swamp in the heart of the forest, drawing Demon Moths toward his own body.

His appearance—dipping his hands into the swamp as if in prayer while surrounded by Demon Moth scales—looked like some sort of ritual. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that he was trying to strike a bargain with the demonic to resurrect his dead wife.

“To be honest, I have plenty of retorts for that, like ‘haven’t the demons been extinct for ages?’ or ‘why didn’t the witness just confront him on the spot?’ But I see the root of this problem as the people’s fear of the Demon Moths. They’re worried the moths will wipe out their precious grapes, and they’re using the lord’s family as a scapegoat for their frustration,” Lucas analyzed calmly.

“The source and symbol of that fear is this swamp. They even suspect the lord is breeding Demon Moths there. That said, these people naturally loathe the demonic more than anything. They’re too afraid to go check for themselves, which just leads to more wild speculation… and well, that’s where we are.”

“To think you gathered that much info in just one morning. Truly impressive, Your Highness,” Irene said in admiration.

Lucas gave a slight smirk and shrugged. “Thank you for the compliment.”

While he might be a bit of a womanizer, at his core, he was a serious and capable man. He shot a glance toward Elma, but since she offered no particular comment, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossed his face before he turned back toward the cliff and the direction of the swamp.

“—Still, the stories I’ve heard were mainly from the town girls—the commoners’ side. To be fair, I wanted to hear the lord’s side of the story before seeing the swamp, but I suppose that’s my oversight.”

In addition to his competence, he was a man who was hard on himself regarding his duties. As he quickly mapped out future plans in his head, he muttered, “Since Lady Deborah has taken such a liking to Elma, perhaps I’ll have Elma secretly call her out here sometime soon—”

At that, Elma stood up abruptly.

“Understood.”

“Huh?”

Ignoring Lucas’s confused expression, she snapped her fingers.

“Lady Deborah, come on!”

Immediately, a nearby bush rustled violently, and a figure leapt out in front of Lucas and the others with great momentum.

“I’ve kept you waiting, Lady Elmaaaaa!”

It was Deborah.