Chapter 65: Paramir (1)

Having destroyed one royal palace, I had to be a bit cautious.

Like wearing a dark hood to cover my face, or hiding in a secluded place to become a naturalist.

Or creating an alias and pretending to be someone entirely different.

There must be various methods beyond the monotonous ones I thought of.

In the extreme, I could take a ship from the end of the continent and disappear forever beyond the vast ocean.

Something like that.

Like how assassins or spies complete a mission and then take a break for a while, waiting for the world to forget about such an assassin, the existence that stabs with a dagger.

If I caused another incident before people forgot, I’d be caught quickly, right?

Therefore, the wisest thing was to go somewhere quiet and secluded, pretending to be innocent as if I knew nothing about a kingdom’s destruction, herding cows or sheep.

Maybe goats.

My head thought that way.

But I didn’t want to.

‘Why should I?’

An ordinary person would have done that.

If it weren’t for this body, if it were the mediocre ordinary person “I” was on Earth, I would have.

But now, such things—running away, hiding, a series of actions to escape people’s pursuit—I won’t do them.

No, I won’t.

I had nothing to be ashamed of when looking up at the sky.

Paramir, the wanderer of Armenial, the vagabond knight, is dignified.

Who committed the wrong first, and who crossed the line first……. The answer is set. The destroyed Kingdom of Bers and its royal family did it first.

Not avoiding a fight that’s come to you and confronting those who force unreasonableness is an important virtue of a knight.

Some might disagree, but at least that’s what chivalry means to me.

‘Thank you for your dedication to the kingdom. You are an honorable man.’

‘…Where’s the money? The promised gold coins?’

‘Honorable one. How can you seek stained metal that tarnishes your honor?’

‘Fucking hell. This shit again?’

I didn’t hold back. I didn’t want to.

With soldiers pointing spears and swords, the king who coercively offered “honor” instead of the promised gold and treasures—I just stabbed his bulging belly.

The pot-bellied greedy king died watching his own entrails.

So, if you’re going to casually swallow someone else’s money, you should have been prepared for your own belly to be stabbed.

Did he let his guard down because he was a king?

Come to think of it, for a king of a country, especially with a swordmaster knight commander and over a thousand soldiers by his side, he might have let his guard down.

Hm. An ordinary person would naturally have thought only of saying “Yes, thank you, Your Highness. I am deeply grateful” and getting out of the palace alive.

But the King of Bers picked the wrong opponent for such a lame trick.

Anyway.

They pointed spears and swords at me first. If I hadn’t had power, I would have suffered injustice and been killed.

I merely returned the treatment I received right back to them.

Because of this incident, a bounty might be placed on my head, but I decided not to care.

A real man doesn’t fear the bounty on his head.

He cares if the amount is too low.

Such a real man checks his bounty and says, “Just this much?” then smashes his glass, stands up, and sets out to punish the corrupt evils eating away at the world, those at the top of the system who collar people invisibly and use them as slaves.

That’s what a real man is.

Fake men who act like fourteen-year-old girls just hitting puberty despite being in their twenties or thirties can be said to have never lived a single moment as a man until they die.

It’s already in the past, and I’m satisfied. The dead can’t complain anyway, so no problem.

Having power is indeed a good thing.

Not having to bow to coercion, force, or unreasonableness, or avoid them.

In fact, being able to show those people head-on that their actions are wrong and I won’t stand by idly instilled great satisfaction in me.

“Found you! Kingdom destroyer! I’ll condemn you.”

“Oh dear, good heavens. How scary.”

“Die… Urk!”

“Too scary, so I resisted without thinking. Please forgive me.”

It’s a world without cameras. Even with the mysterious and wondrous miracle of magic, in this Armenial Continent where people’s appearances still have to be drawn by hand, I wondered how they knew and came looking for me.

“Owner, sorry. It’d be good if you could clean this up.”

“…Understood.”

Twisting the neck of the seventh bounty hunter already, I thought maybe I should use an alias, cover my face, or—though I really hate it—head to some secluded rural corner.

Originally, I intended to use these bounty hunters like a strong prescription to inject a bit of tension into my flat and stable life.

But… now I’m tired of it.

Experiencing it firsthand, there were many minor inconveniences.

Hunting mosquitoes is fun and thrilling, but when you want to lie down and rest, it’s annoying and bothersome, right?

That’s exactly my state now.

I wanted to end being harassed by these bounty hunters, as well as mercenaries or thug gangs who saw posters in alley corners and charged without knowing their limits.

Not for my sake, but for theirs, who would lose their lives in vain.

“Owner. This tastes good. One more glass.”

“Uh… The alcohol’s all gone.”

“Really? Can’t be helped. Thanks for everything.”

A secluded rural village.

Still, it had a decent population, with a brewery and tavern, everything needed, so it was good for resting comfortably… It’s a bit regrettable to leave like this.

To the owner’s excuse of “The alcohol’s all gone,” I stood up without lingering.

Actually, there must be alcohol left. A tavern running out of alcohol? Does that even make sense?

Of course, it’s a lie.

Neither I nor the owner voiced it, but we both knew it was because I had killed someone (even if he charged to kill me) in front of other customers.

People were already treating me like some walking grim reaper or a catastrophe bringing misfortune.

Well, since I nonchalantly snapped people’s necks, their behavior isn’t unreasonable… But like this, I can’t comfortably drink and lead a leisurely daily life.

I stood up.

“Thanks for the good food, drinks, and sleep all this time. It might be insufficient, but I hope you’re satisfied with this. I didn’t pry into your excuse either.”

There was no reply. I placed the unpaid bill on the table.

I grabbed gold coins from my inventory at random, so there must be over ten.

From this alone, I was a sufficiently mannered, gentle, and sensible customer.

So.

Even if he has to clean up two corpses instead of me, he doesn’t need to feel guilty.

In the harsh and stern Armenial Continent, isn’t this a common, ordinary daily occurrence?

Other people’s opinions don’t matter.

A person needs their own subjectivity. I’ll thoroughly uphold my firm subjectivity.

“What a shame.”

I have no regrets about my actions, but the regret is unavoidable.

Isn’t regret the same as remorse? No, it’s different. Strictly different. About as different as “mother” and “mom,” but not the same.

‘The alcohol wasn’t bad.’

It was a bit strong, but from the moment it entered my mouth, sliding down my throat, to the last savoring, it was impeccable.

From the first sip, I could tell good water was used.

As someone who thinks the most important start and end in brewing alcohol is clean and clear water, this village and tavern were too regrettable to leave so easily.

If I had seen it in a game, it would have become something like [Clean, High-Proof Homemade Rural Brew] with HP+10 option and maybe a status abnormality like confusion added.

Unfortunately, I don’t have an intuitive status window or interface.

Though I possessed Paramir, who was a game character, such translucent things weren’t given to me.

The only special thing different from the people of this Armenial Continent is the inventory.

Anyway, since I filled my inventory with the owner’s moonshine, I won’t need to come back to this secluded village with clear water for a while.

“The alcohol was very good. The water was really clean.”

“…Take care.”

I felt the owner’s glance as he pocketed the gold coins, but I didn’t bother turning my head.

To them, I was an unpredictable monster who could turn the village into a wasteland in an instant, a walking catastrophe.

If the faint-hearted had heart attacks, it would just lead to the sad event of me not being able to drink this precious moonshine.

If that happened, my kind, soft, gentle, swan-winged conscience would shed tears too.

Anyway, I showed consideration for the people in the tavern by not making eye contact.

‘I should come again next time.’

Thinking something that would horrify the owner if he heard, I set off on the road.

Farewell, nameless rural village. The wanderer departs.

Carrying sorrow. Carrying joy.

Along with the eternal shadow of loneliness that can’t be shaken off.

Trudge trudge…. Along the dirt path, golden wheat fields lined up on both sides come into view.

Not just wheat.

Under the summer sun, various grains ripening bowed their heavy heads toward the ground.

Weeds and wildflowers as tall as a person were a rare sight I could never see in my previous life, especially in a city paved with asphalt.

Bees flying around, butterflies flying around… And people flying around too.

“Huh.”

Did someone take my hair and cast a curse or something?

No, that can’t be.

There might actually be such magic (possibilities should always be kept open), but during that time, I’ve never heard of magic, curses, or spells that make people fly in the sky like this.

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, closed them tightly, and opened them again.

But still, a person was flying in that blue sky.

It wasn’t an illusion or hallucination.

A real person, and a beauty dressed in a black gothic-style dress at that, was flying in the sky!

“Whoa, fuck. What’s all that. People just flying around.”

An unused dialect slips out naturally.

A woman flying in the sky.

Against the blue sky, a person flying straight toward me came into view.

Still far away, but Paramir’s eyes, boasting ridiculously overpowered specs, examined the woman’s appearance in detail.

Long black hair. Very fine features.

From the first glance, I felt it, but she was a real “witch.”

A witch that the previous me wouldn’t have dared approach.

‘A black-haired beauty flying in the sky.’

Swooooosh—..

The wind sound is fierce.

On the dirt path, sand, pebbles, large and small insects were blown by the wind, swept into a small whirlwind, and fell back down.

Amid that chaos, what appeared was a beauty unmatched in the world.

Long black hair. A cute nose that’s perky yet rounded at the tip. Rarely seen black pupils.

Clack clack…. Unfolding a black parasol, casting a shadow from the stinging noon sun, the witch came toward me.

“Are you Paramir?”

I nodded.

I hadn’t decided yet what to say. How to start the first words.

Eloquence is silver, silence is gold.

I chose to appear as a tight-lipped man rather than spout unnecessary nonsense.

“I’m Hecate. A member of the racial alliance, Heldrasil. I came after hearing your fame. Kingdom destroyer Paramir.”

Hecate.

Her name was Hecate.

A voice elegant and beautiful like jade rolling.

“I love you, Lady Hecate. Please, will you marry me?”

I knelt before her and offered a gold ring embedded with a blue-glowing sapphire that I had stashed in my inventory sometime.

Nearly a year since falling into the Armenial Continent, living as a lonely and chic vagabond knight protecting the weak.

Finally, I had met my destined partner.