Chapter 137, Introductions and Disguises

Translator: Barnnn

 

Rossalie was summoned to the room to explain the situation. At Gruash’s gentle prompting, she reached into her Magic Bag and carefully set two Mandragoras on the floor.

 

“This one is Madhur,” she said.

“Pyattsun!” chirped the little creature.

“And this is Shahad.”

“Peppou!”

 

Madhur’s red, round body wobbled as it gave a shy curtsy. Shahad, the more spirited of the two, waved the leaves on its head. Rossalie beamed with satisfaction as she watched them.

These Mandragoras, hailing from the seventy-fifth floor of Speraniessa’s Dungeon, were a variant known as Honey Mandragora. They shared the same basic shape as Sato, but rather than white, their bodies were a reddish hue, more like turnips than radishes. Despite the difference in color, however, their detoxification and nutritional properties were reportedly identical.

Faced with these two mysterious creatures introduced so affectionately by the woman he cherished, Gruash — his own man, after all — was at a loss for how to react. Should he smile? Nod? Pretend at objectivity? All he could truly think was how much more adorable Rossalie herself looked when she smiled and asked, “Aren’t they cute?” with such radiant pride.

 

“Yes… of course,” he said at last, though his eyes remained fixed on Rossalie rather than the Mandragoras. “Very cute.”

 

Rossalie’s cheeks flushed a deeper red, and Gruash quickly averted his gaze with a silent sigh. He turned to the others gathered in the room to confirm.

 

“Am I right to assume that these are the only two you brought?”

“Yup! Just these two,” came Ize’s casual reply. “The rest stayed down in the Dungeon. But they said they’d let us take their leaves if we ever need them!”

“Leaves?” Gruash parroted.

“Mm-hmm,” Hal nodded. “They said one or two would be fine in exchange for a dose of healing magic. We got one leaf from each, just in case.”

“We’ve collected three in total,” Rossalie added. “I’ve already arranged for a local pharmacist to process them into Potions.”

 

Loudipa’s eyes sparkled. It was clear he was imagining all the good those Potions could do for people who found themselves poisoned like he had.

 

“Wow… so they’re willing to help even without being harvested completely? Madhur and… uh, Sheha?”

“Shahad,” Rossalie corrected with a gentle smile. “They both said one leaf per year is fine.”

“Pyapyan!”

“Pepepepeppo!”

“Kekyon!”

 

The Mandragoras bounced in agreement, with Sato chiming in as well. Though it wasn’t technically involved, it probably joined in just to boost credibility. Probably.

 

“So, there are three in the Dungeon, and two here on the surface,” Gruash mused. “Five leaves a year, minimum. That’s more than enough, considering how rare they’ve been until now.”

“That’s right,” Loudipa said. “And with fewer nobles eating them going forward, we can finally make them available to more than just Mystic Beast victims. They’ll help with food poisoning, mine gas exposure, all kinds of things. It’s a huge relief.”

 

Loudipa gently patted the leaves of the two Mandragoras. Compared to Sato, both Madhur and Shahad had a slimmer look, probably due to receiving less healing magic since awakening. With time and care, they too would likely grow into robust turnip-bodies like Sato’s.

 

“Oh, by the way, the bathwater from their soaks can be made into soup,” Rossalie added.

“Soup?” Gruash blinked.

“Yes. The water they bathe in gains nutritional properties. Hal told me it helps restore stamina in patients with weakened bodies.”

“Stamina recovery… That does sound like something Hal would discover.”

 

Loudipa cast a sidelong glance toward Hal, who responded with an unrepentant grin.

 

“We call it Sato broth,” he said. “It works on injured animals too, not just people. When we were on the road, we gave it to our horses regularly.”

“I see… broth… livestock… horses…” Loudipa muttered, his eye twitching slightly.

 

Hal’s expression remained serenely cheerful, like someone explaining a beloved family recipe.

 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Fieda remarked dryly.

“Congratulations,” said Ize with a sigh. “You’ve officially developed a psychological warfare skill.”

 

Despite their deadpan voices, neither of them tried to stop Hal from elaborating all the wondrous uses of Sato broth to a slowly unraveling Loudipa… who eventually held up a hand, massaging the bridge of his nose in defeat.

 

“Let me confirm a few things,” Loudipa said, clearly exhausted.

“Go ahead,” Hal replied.

“First: does this require Hero-class magic?”

“Nope. Any competent light mage should do.”

“And who else knows about this?”

 

“Just a few,” Hal said, counting them off on his fingers. “One Guild staff member in Jasted, one light mage, a party of four adventurers who serve as the light mage’s Dungeon escort, and the A-ranked adventurer, Mister Wardon.”

“Wardon? What about Volhelm?”

“Mister Volhelm knows we gave Mandragoras to Mister Wardon, but not how we met Sato. Also, Mister Volhelm knows we’re Heroes. Mister Wardon doesn’t.”

“That’s… annoyingly complicated.”

 

Hal kept his explanation brief and clear, but Loudipa still groaned and rubbed his own temple this time.

Hal’s psychological attack was clearly taking effect.

 

“And have you formalized any contracts with them?”

“Some monetary exchanges and confidentiality agreements,” Hal said.

“Good. Let’s draw up the same terms. Mind showing Shezel the documentation?”

“Sure thing.”

 

Hal nodded, and Loudipa let out a deep breath, finally satisfied.

Meanwhile, Gruash spoke in a low, reflective tone, eyes drifting toward the two Mandragora nestled contentedly on Rossalie’s lap.

 

“I thought Volhelm’s proposal to protect the Mandragoras was just an attempt to ease growing tensions between nobles and adventurers…”

“When my brother showed me those Dragon scales, I nearly passed out again,” Loudipa said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen an adventurer offer something like that as a bargaining chip. But… if you were behind it, I guess it makes sense.”

“Behind it? Way to paint me as a mastermind…” Hal muttered under his breath, thinking how it would’ve been nice if Loudipa had actually passed out again.

“To be fair, Hal, you’re the only one of us who’s enough of a businessman to plan this,” Fieda said.

“I mean, yeah…” Hal admitted.

“Hey, I had a part in it too!” Ize interjected, not wanting Hal to shoulder all the blame. “I couldn’t stand the idea of Sato’s friends being overharvested for stupid reasons. That’s why I agreed to use the scales as a bargaining tool!”

“Ah, I see…” Loudipa said softly. “That’s true; if Mandragoras become too accessible, people might try to abuse them. You made the right call, Ize. I’m so proud of you. So thoughtful, so full of love… truly, you are the perfect bride for me.”

“Uh… uh-huh…?”

“Maybe I should knock him unconscious myself…” Hal muttered.

“You’re not supposed to say that out loud,” Fieda warned without looking at him.

“Yeah, I know, I gotta do it stealthily…”

 

To that, Fieda gave Hal only silence. That was all the answer he needed.

 

“So, Shezel,” Gruash began again, fixing him with a pointed look, “if I recall correctly, you were supposed to return early to interrogate and escort the captured attackers. So why, exactly, did you end up in the Dungeon with Rossa?”

Shezel gave an unapologetic shrug. “The questioning was already finished, and they didn’t really need me for the escort. And honestly, some of the prisoners were hilarious — one of them was absolutely terrified of grass, and another screamed every time he saw a mirror.”

“Grass?” Gruash parroted, his brows knitting in suspicion.

 

His gaze drifted toward the window, where Sato was basking in the curtain of sunlight, its round back soaking in the warmth like a lazy cat.

 

“…That doesn’t explain why you were in the Dungeon.”

“Well, I figured if we were inside the Dungeon, the chances of getting attacked again would actually go down. There’s a record of every person who enters, after all. Fewer surprises.”

“That may be true, but…” Gruash muttered, unconvinced.

 

As Shezel continued making his case, Gruash remained skeptical. It was Loudipa who suddenly lit up with realization.

 

“Oh! I get it!” he said, eyes gleaming. “Brother, you’re jealous that Sister-in-Law went into the Dungeon without you, aren’t you?”

“What!?”

“Huh?” Rossalie gasped, turning toward him in shock.

 

Gruash immediately whipped his head around to face her, his ears turning red.

 

“N-no, that’s not…! It’s not that I didn’t want you to go, I just… I mean, if something had happened to you–”

 

His flustered excuses came tumbling out, each one worse than the last, and Rossalie’s cheeks turned as red as the Honey Mandragoras sitting on her lap.

 

“I see,” Loudipa said, grinning. “So that’s what had you in a foul mood.”

“Middle-aged jealousy is no joke,” Ize added dryly.

“Especially when it’s coming from someone in power,” Hal murmured.

 

While the embarrassed couple exchanged sugary stammers across the room, Ize, Hal, and Fieda averted their eyes in silent solidarity, pretending to study the window… or the Mandragora… or anything but the budding romantic drama unfolding before them.

Outside, the winter wind still howled, but inside the room, spring had clearly arrived early.

 

◆

 

After Fieda’s group, Rossalie, and the Mandragora trio left the room, a brief silence settled over the remaining occupants.

Gruash took a sip of his tea, then set the cup down with a soft clink before turning toward Shezel again.

 

“So,” he asked casually, “how many took the bait?”

“Five. Three adventurers, two soldiers.”

Gruash narrowed his eyes. “Did you find out who they were working for?”

“Sure did,” Shezel nodded. “They’re lower rank than the Fourth Prince’s personal retainers.”

“Adventurers and soldiers alike?”

“Yes.”

 

Gruash and Loudipa exchanged grim, quiet nods.

 

“They must’ve acted before the news of the abdication announcement reached them,” Gruash muttered.

“Most likely,” Loudipa agreed. “Seems the bulk of the attackers were from the neighboring territory. Probably a backup squad, in case the first assault failed.”

“With the Fourth losing all leverage, we can probably stop worrying too much about future moves,” Shezel said, drawing a smirk from Loudipa.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Loudipa added, “the Crown Prince is planning to bury the Fourth in Merchants’ Guild work.”

“The Merchants’ Guild?” Gruash asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Most of the Fourth’s funding comes from nobles who profit from mines and non-Dungeon specialty goods. But once the next King is officially named, those nobles will jump ship…” Loudipa let his tea swirl into a tiny whirlpool, his eyes watching it with satisfaction. “…Still, his network remains intact. The plan is to make him a regional deputy auditor under the Guild.”

“Ugh,” Shezel muttered, wincing.

“That’s harsh,” Gruash agreed.

 

Auditor roles were usually reserved for high-ranking nobles; lower-ranking ones lacked the authority and presence to resist bribes or manipulation. That said, it wasn’t as if the Fourth Prince was above bribery himself. Hence the “deputy” prefix.

As a deputy auditor, he would hold nominal authority, but have no actual power to override the lead inspector. Worse, the job would have him traveling across the entire kingdom year-round. For someone born and pampered in the royal palace, it would be a miserable exile.

 

Loudipa drained the last of his tea and chuckled softly. “When he visits Speraniessa, we’ll have to give him a warm welcome.”

“Oh, I’m SO ready to hang out with him,” Gruash said with a smirk.

“I bet Hal and Ize could come up with all kinds of ways to make a guest feel… thoroughly entertained.”

 

At that, both Gruash and Loudipa nearly choked on their laughter. They had, after all, heard at least a partial account of what had occurred during the New Year’s attack on the manor.

 

“The soldiers involved seemed to enjoy themselves,” Loudipa said. “Did you hear about the ‘room of raging wind’?”

“Wind?” Gruash tilted his head. “I heard something about a room with an icy floor…?”

“Oh, that was fun too,” Shezel said brightly. “You slipped on the ice and landed in a manure pit. Still have no idea how they transported that much.”

“But the wind room,” Gruash pressed. “What happened there?”

“Heh, so here’s how it goes,” Shezel said, clearly savoring the memory. “Hal rigged a Magicite to emit violent gusts of wind. Visibility dropped to zero. And then, they got blasted with liquefied Glue Slime.”

 

Glue Slime, true to its name, acted as a powerful adhesive. If applied at full strength, it became impossible to remove without a special chemical solution.

Loudipa visibly gagged as he imagined how that would feel.

 

“And then it gets better,” Shezel continued gleefully.

“…There’s more?”

“MUCH more. So, a bunch of costumes come flying at them from all directions…”

“”Costumes?”” Gruash and Loudipa parroted.

“One guy got a blonde wig knitted from yarn stuck to his head, a pair of… uh, plush breasts taped to his chest, and a very tight pair of — well, let’s just say ‘revealing’ underwear glued to his groin.”

“”What.””

“Oh, and Ize requested cat ears. Hal tried, but they didn’t quite land right. The ears stuck to the guy’s shoulder, and the tail… well, it ended up stuck to the front. Not the back.”

“Cat ears and a tail…” Gruash trailed off.

“On the front?” Loudipa parroted, horrified.

 

Gruash glanced nervously downward. Loudipa’s gaze drifted to his own lap, as if trying not to imagine the same.

 

“Anyway,” Shezel continued, waving it off, “Ize used Cleanse to purify the room afterward, but we couldn’t do the same for those prisoners. Wouldn’t want any of them to see her, you know? …and honestly, they looked HILARIOUS, so we just transported them as-is. I mean, if you tried to rip that wig off, it would’ve taken all their hair with it. Same with the tail; I don’t even want to think about removing it.”

 

The image of those attackers being marched off in ridiculous, adhesive-sealed costumes was too much. Loudipa massaged his temple, and Gruash rubbed his forehead in sync. Shezel couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“And that wasn’t even Hal’s full power, apparently,” he added. “He was disappointed how little time he had to put the costumes together; said he could’ve made them even more elaborate. I had to remind him that wasn’t the main goal.”

“I still don’t understand how ‘warding off attackers’ became a… fashion show,” Gruash muttered.

“Hey, better than everyone being paralyzed with fear,” Loudipa said. “Besides, Sister-in-Law also enjoyed it, didn’t she?”

“That… well, I suppose that’s true,” Gruash admitted, unable to suppress a small smile as he recalled Rossalie’s modest but proud recounting of her part in the manor’s defense. Then he added dryly, “But let’s not consult our Heroes about how to ‘welcome’ the Fourth Prince. He technically is still royalty, after all.”

“Pity,” Loudipa sighed.

“Knew you’d say that,” Shezel said with an exaggerated shrug.

 

At the end of the day, one thing was clear: there would be no sequel to this Manor Defense operation.