Chapter 234 : Chapter 234
Chapter 234 : The Demonic Doctor
***
“Boss! Are you really leaving?”
In a remote corner of Conwell, the hideout of the Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats.
Ramba, who was casually gathering his belongings on top of a stained straw mat, looked back nonchalantly.
“Yeah, brat.”
“No, why on earth?! The war’s over, and now we can finally live with warm backs and full bellies, so what’s the problem?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Eh?”
“Eating well and living well. That’s the problem, you brat.”
The snot-nosed kid tilted his head, completely at a loss.
Instead of answering, Ramba chuckled faintly and continued his work. His luggage amounted to nothing more than a few stained books and a bundle of faded parchment. They were self-written novels or daily records he had jotted down from time to time, unable to let go of his lingering attachments.
‘…….’
They were the traces of a past life that he had once put out into the world under the noble name of Cervantes, but which he was now too ashamed to even look through.
‘There was a time when I believed I could change the world with writing.’
Ramba stroked the bundle of paper, which was old, worn, and tattered at the corners, with his rough palm. He remembered those days anew.
How thoughtlessly had he prattled on that one must know how to discuss chivalry even with nothing, and that one must not lose human dignity and grace even while suffering from starvation. His ignorant tongue had been truly long.
In an instant, his face flushed hot. Looking back now, it was worse than ridiculous; it was at the point where he felt utterly sick of himself.
‘I was truly arrogant.’
The penholder he had brandished while sitting loftily at his desk was lighter than a feather. The smoothly polished sentences he had uttered while pretending to be noble were nothing but empty shells that failed to capture even a single scream of the starving people.
Fortunately, it did not take very long for him to realize his own ignorance and hypocrisy, and to finally throw his body into the muddy stream flowing through the lowest depths of the world.
“……It’s a real relief, hehe.”
“Eh? What is, all of a sudden?”
“That I didn’t do shameful things for long. I’m certain of this, but knowing how to quickly repent for one’s mistakes is also a talent.”
“Yesterday, I got caught stealing and eating One-Eye’s beans, but I apologized right away. Does that mean I’m talented?”
“Of course, brat. You’re very excellent.”
“Hehe.”
The snot-nosed kid scratched his head. Ramba chuckled faintly.
“But Boss, why’re you packing all those old scraps of paper?”
The snot-nosed kid asked. He seemed utterly unable to understand why a beggar scraping by on begging was packing a bundle of paper, which was not even gold, like a treasure jar.
“Should I throw them away for you?”
The snot-nosed kid reached out his hand as if doing a favor. Ramba chuckled and slapped the back of his hand away.
“Cut it out, brat. These’re things too embarrassing to even throw away.”
Ramba tightly tied the corners of the worn cloth and slung it onto his back. His already hunched back bent as if sinking low, pressed down by the pile of luggage.
“I’m off. Tell everyone to take care.”
“Boss! Is this for real……?!”
“Did you think it was fake, brat?”
“No, what about our bond, how can you just leave like this out of nowhere! What about the next boss! Even if it’s just in name, this is the Conwell branch, so you should at least leave someone officially seated before going. Or at least wait for the Leader’s appointment.”
Instead of answering, Ramba rummaged around his waist and carelessly tossed a worn straw rope. It was a red straw rope with six knots tied in it.
“Appointment of my foot. Hey, brat. They say even ditch water has waves, but what kind of beggar’s den has hierarchies and appointments? You will be the boss starting today.”
“Eh……? M-Me? For real?”
“Yeah, punk. Hang that around your neck and act as the boss, or trade it for taffy, do whatever you want. It’s none of my business.”
Ramba waved his hand without any lingering attachment and left the hideout.
In spite of his spirited departure, Ramba’s journey was not smooth.
As soon as he left Conwell, he had to face all kinds of hardships and trials, as if rainwater were leaking through a gap in a split roof.
‘Man, it’s at the point where I wonder if this is even the same Kingdom.’
Outside Conwell is dangerous. It was a fact known by the brain but not easily felt by the skin.
In the unmanaged open lands, bandits and demonic beasts popped out in disorder. It was truly a lawless world.
Even so, Ramba did not stop and kept walking.
“Who0 wouldn’t know that name here?”
A laborer dripping with sweat at a construction site under the scorching sun spat out casually.
The man spoke from behind in an indifferent tone without casting a single glance at Ramba, but suddenly, an indescribable joy filled Ramba’s eyes.
“Because it’s the first time since the Combat Festival began that someone won under the name of our Labotas. This tiny backwater village, which couldn’t escape being a mere bystander every time the Combat Festival was held, was turned completely upside down thanks to him.”
Ramba’s eyes and mouth gradually fell open in shock. The laborer drove his shovel deep into the ground to fix it, then wiped his sweat.
“But do you know what’s even more amazing? As if rewards and the like were out of his mind from the very beginning even after winning, he pushed all the winning privileges onto our estate residents and vanished into thin air without a sound.”
The laborer pointed at the area under full construction with the tip of his shovel handle. Everything up to the edge of his vision was a massive construction site.
“Thanks to that, jobs are being created and vitality is returning like this. He’s practically saved the lives of thousands of our estate residents.”
“Ha……!”
“Cervantes is Labotas’s benefactor and hero.”
Ramba’s knees buckled. The rumors were true.
The journey of that name, which had begun to be heard from some point on, was strangely familiar.
That stubborn disposition of willingly using strength for the weak and volunteering for reckless fights for justice.
It bore a chilling resemblance to the protagonist of Knights of Elderwood, the novel Ramba had written in the past, pouring in his own ideals and desires.
‘Cervantes!’
The protagonist of that delusion, whom everyone in the world mocked as a preposterous story, was living this harsh reality by borrowing someone’s body.
“Ha, hahaha…… hahaha!”
“……? What’s wrong with you? Did you eat something bad?”
“Ah, no. By any chance, is there a way to find out his whereabouts?”
“If we knew, do you think we’d be sitting still like this?”
Ramba repeatedly bowed his head with deep gratitude toward the back of the laborer, who returned to his workplace without any particular greeting.
‘To think it was truly real!’
Ramba exhaled an excited breath. It felt as if his heart would burst.
It had been since the Conwell civil war. When the Advanced line’s front line was pushed back to the Litania Order, falling into a desperate crisis, Ramba assisted Adeline by unleashing sewer rats in all directions to gather information on Callence’s army.
Amidst those fierce intelligences, the name Cervantes was occasionally mixed in. Of course, at that time, he had no leeway to connect the dots.
‘The Dashing Cervantes.’
The unknown hero who was said to have wiped out the sewer rat bastards gathering bit by bit under the cover of chaos all by himself before leisurely vanishing.
When that tale of heroism began to spread like wildfire through the mouths of the Easton merchants, Ramba could not shake the feeling that something was strange.
‘A merciless blade for those who bully the weak, a silent salvation for the poor.’
To dismiss it as mere coincidence, the trajectories were far too similar.
And now.
Ramba gently pressed his chest, which was shaking with a thrill. The noise of the construction site poured into his ears again. He barely calmed himself down and stared through the dirt dust.
‘Alright, let’s get information from the branch.’
Ramba immediately turned his steps toward the Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats Theodore branch. Conveniently, the boss there was close enough to call each other brothers. He would surely reveal Cervantes’s tracks in detail without making a fuss.
“I don’t want to.”
“What? You don’t want to? Why!”
“Because I feel like it.”
The Theodore boss casually picked his nostril. Ramba was taken aback by the unexpected rejection at the door.
“What on earth is the problem? If it’s because of the cost, don’t worry. I’ll pay as much as it takes.”
“Tsk, tsk. My friend, when it comes to people like us, money isn’t what’s important. It’s a matter of mood, mood.”
Ramba was so dumbfounded that he was lost for words. He could not understand what the hell the guy was spouting.
“Anyway, it’s late today, so stay over. Let’s talk again tomorrow morning with a clear mind. Chew on my words carefully.”
The Theodore boss tapped his temple. In his heart, Ramba wanted to spit phlegm right into his face, but he swallowed it down and turned away.
‘What the hell is with him all of a sudden? Bastard looks like a piece of mouse dung.’
Ramba lay down and thought it over deeply, but he could not catch a clue at all. There was no reason for him to act so bluntly.
‘…….’
That aside, lying under a roof after a long time made his body melt away. Having only rolled around on the streets during this time, even a barn full of the smell of dung felt as cozy as a palace.
It was the exact moment his eyelids were sliding down from the warmth seeping through the gaps in the straw.
‘!’
His eyes snapped open. It seemed he had fallen asleep for a moment.
The narrow barn, where there was no room to step, was swarming with beggar bastards. They were all surrounding him, gripping blades in their hands.
“Hiik! He’s awake!”
The beggar whose eyes met his right in front startled violently and dropped the dagger he was holding. It seemed to be the moment they were about to do something.
“W-What are you guys doing?!”
“Tch. I thought you’d fall fast asleep right away, but your ears are needlessly sharp, my friend.”
The Theodore boss laughed, baring his yellow teeth. A fishy light gleamed in his eyes like a hungry hyena’s.
“I believe I asked what the hell you’re doing!”
“Can’t you tell by looking? Just die quietly. Wouldn’t dying by our hands be better in many ways than getting bitten to death by wild dogs?”
Ramba’s pupils shook violently.
‘Wild dogs? Don’t tell me the Leader ordered each branch to get rid of me?’
He had suspected for a long time that they were turning increasingly strange for a mere pack of beggars. But to go this far just because he left the organization?
It was the moment Ramba shook his head.
“They say that rumored Cervantes went to the south. You know well enough that I’m not a crazy enough guy to blackmail a man who’s about to die, right?”
The Theodore boss blew his breath onto the blade.
“Think of it as a favor. On good terms. Yeah? Fly away and go find him. Kihishi.”
While the Theodore boss burst into laughter, around that time, Ramba had already slipped his hand into his shirt and finished full preparations. He had not been scared in the first place. He was merely bewildered for a moment by the unexpected betrayal.
“I’m Ramba! You beggar bastards!”
Along with a roar, Ramba pulled out the dagger from his shirt and swung it. The blade pierced through the neck of the beggar right in front without mercy. Fresh blood spurted.
CRASH—! THUD—! SQUELCH—! AAAAARGH—!
With that as the trigger, the narrow barn transformed into a chaotic slaughterhouse. Tumble and toss in the darkness, the sounds of flesh being gouged and carved by blades and screams blended noisily.
The wretched noise that had continued for a while stopped abruptly.
A sudden silence lingered.
THUD—!
A blood-soaked hand gripped the doorframe of the barn.
Naturally, it was Ramba’s.
“Pant, pant, pant……!”
Coming outside, Ramba breathed heavily. His entire body was thoroughly drenched in blood, like a fish that had been swimming in a pool of blood and had just come ashore.
“I’m a guy who survived through a war. Did you think I’d be the same as you bastards? Khaat—”
Ramba spat out the blood pooled in his mouth. He tightly readjusted his bundle on his back, then left the place nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.
Suddenly, Ramba stood blankly and looked up at the sky.
“……Has the season passed, or has the climate changed?”
A hollow laugh leaked through his chapped lips. In fact, both statements were true.
Quite a long time had passed, enough for one or two seasons to have surely gone by, and he had come far enough for the climate to be different from Conwell.
Before he knew it, the smell of the south’s characteristic hot, humid air lingered at the tip of his nose.
“Cough!”
With a single cough, his bone-dry body shook as if it would break.
Ramba removed the hand that had covered his mouth. Thick blood was smeared on his palm.
‘…….’
He thought back carefully to exactly when it had started. It was probably around the time he left Conwell.
At first, he had thought it was just a common body ache that would get better after suffering for a few days, but this fellow was more persistent than expected.
As time went on, it seemed to grow in size, nibbling away at the embers of life from deep within his lungs, and now it sat coiled up throughout his entire body with no sign of leaving.
Ramba instinctively sensed that his illness, which showed no signs of recovering, had already crossed a river of no return.
“……Whew.”
He roughly wiped his blood-stained hand on his clothes. Even though the shadow of death had stepped forward across him, Ramba’s eyes shone more brightly than ever.
“Your complexion does not look good, brother. If you do not mind, why do you not rest a bit before going?”
Turning his head at the gentle voice, a middle-aged man neatly dressed in a pure white formal robe was standing there.
Ramba saw the pattern engraved on the middle-aged man’s chest.
‘Solari.’
It was a magic school he knew well too. Those who fed the hungry and offered shelter to the poor.
Originally, it was the nature of this land to loathe magic schools. In a world where it was hard enough to take care of one’s own body, they chose to spout only pleasant-sounding words, so the world did not withdraw its eyes of rejection toward them, viewing them as a group hiding insidious inner thoughts.
‘I, too, was certain that a price would surely follow behind the hand they extended.’
That rigid prejudice broke during the Conwell civil war. While rolling around and risking their lives together, Ramba realized their truth.
‘To think they’ve expanded their power this much in the meantime.’
The problem was that they were like milestones wherever his feet landed, just like companions on a journey. How many times had he already received their favor while coming down to the south?
“The shadow created by the warm sunshine belongs to all of us, so please do not decline.”
The middle-aged man stood with his back to a large construction site. It was a site where a Solari branch was being built, identical to the one he saw in Labotas.
‘……You are truly incredible, Milord.’
Ramba felt a strange exhaustion as if all the strength from his entire body was slipping out. It truly felt like becoming a firefly beneath the sun.
According to the rumors he barely caught by listening around, the designer who constructed this massive fortress of good will was none other than Bihen Benkou.
Whatever his intention might be, they said each of the lords had voluntarily stepped forward to promise the establishment of a branch.
In effect, Ramba had been following the trajectory built like stepping stones of salvation all along.
‘I feel just like a pilgrim.’
Walking with the unfamiliar scenery as a companion under the benevolence bestowed by the Solari, such a thought was entering his mind.
That closing his eyes quietly like this while chasing the faint tracks of a hero crafted by his own hands, which might be a mere fiction, would be quite a splendid thing.
“Haha……, Milord. Thanks to you, it was a journey where I wasn’t lonely.”
Since the traces of benevolence paved by Bihen Benkou were resting like shimmering ripples upon Cervantes’s path, how could anyone call this a coincidence?
God’s grace was not something far away.
POUR—!
Ramba sat leaning his back against a wall beneath the eaves where rainwater streamed down.
Dark clouds heavily gathered in the sky that had been perfectly fine until just a moment ago, and soon a torrential downpour began to pour to the point where he could not see ahead.
‘This damn weather’s total crap.’
The fickle weather of the south was exactly like a person’s inner thoughts, making it impossible to predict.
Ramba let out a small cough and closed his eyes for a moment.
“......”
Ramba slowly lifted his closed eyelids again. Beyond the pouring streams of rain, through the blurry water screen, figures draped in drab rags like shadows stood lined up.
“......You guys finally showed yourselves. After only hiding and watching every time, that is.”
“......”
“You heartless friends, say something. What on earth is the reason for tormenting me to this extent? Even if you do not urge me like that, I will be leaving on my own soon anyway.”
The man in black standing in the center lifted the front brim of his black bamboo hat with his thumb. Raindrops forming at the edge of the brim dipped down at an angle, as if fleeing from his cold gaze.
“Ahead is Brakenport soon. There was an order to end the observation now.”
“Observation......?”
“Do not ask further. The corpse must be collected in as intact a condition as possible, so let us not make useless struggles.”
The wild dogs pulled out their clubs all at once.