Chastity-Reversed Hard Mode: Surviving as a Steel-Minded Adventurer in Another World - Chapter 16: “To Spare or To Kill—That Is the Question”

Chapter 16: “To Spare or To Kill—That Is the Question”

“Lady Deabolica, the doctors have requested an audience. They’ve also delivered a sealed letter.”

At her subordinate’s report, Deabolica’s hand froze for just a moment over her paperwork.

But she quickly resumed writing, not even lifting her gaze as she gave the order.

“Permission granted. Summarize it.”

“Yes, ma’am… They demand an explanation regarding yesterday’s uproar.”

The letter read something like this:

[Though we graciously accepted the invitation of your esteemed household to reside in this rural backwater, it is most regrettable that our professional domain has been infringed upon by some ignorant commoner. To make matters worse, we hear this commoner operates under your command, Lady Deabolica. Unless a satisfactory explanation is given, we must consider that you harbor treasonous intent, and we will not hesitate to appeal directly to the head of your house.

Furthermore, rumors say this commoner declared himself an angel. This is an extremely grave matter from a religious standpoint. I have associates in the capital’s National Synod, and I see no issue in consulting them regarding this outrage.

In conclusion, we demand proper compensation for the insult suffered.]

“That damn con-artist scum!”

Deabolica snapped, slamming her quill onto the desk. Ink splattered across the documents, staining them black—but she didn’t care. Her fist came crashing down on top of the mess.

“‘Professional domain,’ my ass! Those frauds have never healed a single patient in their lives! If not for Mother hiring them, I’d have kicked their sorry hides out of this city ages ago! And now they dare threaten me? Filthy trash, the lot of them…!”

Veins bulged dark across Deabolica’s temple as she roared.

That particular doctor had always been one of the people she hated most.

A worthless fraud whose only real “skills” were groveling to the powerful, covering his own ass, and peddling bogus treatments.

When she was a child and caught a cold, he insisted he needed to “purge the toxins” from her body—so he dosed her with an emetic and forced an enema on her.

Already weak from illness, the extra strain left her malnourished and nearly killed her.

Ever since then, she had never allowed him to lay a hand on her again.

Of course, in the Naroppa region, every so-called “doctor” was the same. Even if she fired this one and brought in another, nothing would really change.

A man who loved money far more than his patients’ health—he must have figured that since Deabolica ran the Adventurers’ Guild, she was a ripe target to bleed dry. That’s why he dared send such threats.

The real problem was, Deabolica didn’t actually have the money right now.

When she reported the incident to her mother, the ruling lord, she framed it like this:

“Yuji wasn’t the cause of the uproar—he was nearly exploited as a political pawn. The so-called ‘angel’s miracles’ were simply treatments made from medicine. He is a talented alchemist and should be kept alive. As proof, Yuji distributed remedies he created to the citizens and collected fifty gold coins in treatment fees. He has offered to dedicate the entire sum as compensation for the incident.”

A total lie.

Yuji wasn’t an alchemist at all, and the money he’d earned was only fifteen gold coins’ worth of silver—that’s 1,500 silvers.

The remaining thirty-five gold coins? That had come straight out of Deabolica’s secret stash—funds she’d been desperately hoarding behind her mother’s back.

For her, handing over that much was like carving flesh off her own body.

But fifteen gold coins alone weren’t nearly enough to sway her mother, so she had no choice but to cover the rest herself.

After all, there’s nothing money can’t buy. Not even a life.

So the lord had already been bribed. No matter how much the doctors complained, it wouldn’t be an issue.

But if those quacks managed to whine their way to the religious authorities in the capital, that could be a disaster.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it was just a bluff.

But that one time out of a hundred—if the doctor really did have a connection—it would spell serious trouble.

The reason was simple: just a few decades ago, the Great Brishav Empire had torn itself apart over religious conflict.

Civil wars erupted, parliament ousted the king, then parliament itself split and fought, plunging everything into chaos—until, eventually, they had to swallow their pride and beg the very king they’d banished to return and restore order.

The whole affair had been a nightmare of instability and bloodshed.

Now, under the reinstated king, the empire was more or less stable again.

But precisely because of that history, anything tied to religion was a powder keg.

A self-proclaimed “angel” who whipped up the masses and looked like the spearhead of a coup?

Yeah, no chance the state would ever let that slide.

Yuji had barely escaped the axe because he’d never actually called himself an angel—he’d only been put on a pedestal by others.

So the official verdict was: the people got carried away after being duped by a fraud, and that fraud was now under observation under Deabolica’s supervision.

The only thing saving Yuji right now was the fact this was just a backwater fortress city—where the lord’s family could easily control the flow of information.

If this had been a bustling metropolis with people constantly coming and going, there’d be no hiding him from the eyes of the religious authorities.

So yes, Yuji’s neck was still attached… by the thinnest of threads.

(…Wouldn’t it just be easier to erase him…?)

Deabolica buried her head in her hands over the desk, replaying the same troubling thought that had plagued her since yesterday.

There was no denying it—Yuji was a one-of-a-kind existence.

With just a wave of his hand, he could wipe away any illness. A walking reincarnation of Panakeia, the ancient goddess of healing.

He himself claimed he wasn’t actually curing anything, just suppressing symptoms until the body naturally finished the job—but still, compared to that worthless fraud of a doctor, he was nothing short of a miracle.

The problem was that he was also a living, breathing human being.

And worse, he was a born troublemaker.

An abnormal man with zero empathy. A clueless idiot most of the time, yet every so often sharp enough to be unpredictable.

On top of that, he had the looks of a kind, leanly-muscled East Asian pretty boy—a walking bundle of sex appeal.

The guild’s female members were already sharpening their claws, competing to make him their husband, turning the atmosphere unnecessarily tense.

Though, to be fair, that was about ninety percent Deabolica’s own fault for stirring them up in the first place.

≪Explanation Time!

For Brishav women, the three ultimate sex-appeal points are: exotic black hair, a lean-yet-toned body, and kindness! (According to the prestigious Great Brishav Empire Census Report)

Just like Japanese guys drool over blonde bombshells, Brishav women—sick of endless blondes and redheads—go wild for jet-black hair. No matter the world, the grass is always greener on the other side!

And since their libido is through the roof, a gentle smile or a knack for cooking—proof he’d dote on their kids—hits them straight in the womb. Where Japanese otaku men scream, “She’s my waifu!”, Brishav women squeal, “I’ll make him the daddy ♥”

Now, Yuji checks all three boxes.

In our world’s terms, he’s basically the full-course fantasy: a glowing blonde saintess with a voluptuous “perfect” body, a homely, caring personality, and just enough divine sparkle to fry every man’s brain.

Sure, he’s clueless and kind of an idiot—but to virgin-hungry “fap-monkeys,” that just reads as a pure, moldable boy they can dye in their own colors. Same way men back home are more than happy to take in a ditzy-but-cute, sexy, domestic, and sweet young girl. In fact, being naive only adds to the charm—because then they can gleefully think, “Heheh, I can train him into my perfect type.”

Yep—being hot is always an advantage.

…Or is it really an advantage?≫

By the way—while Deabolica did think Yuji was insanely erotic, she had zero desire to actually sleep with him.

Getting involved with a troublemaker like that? No thanks. She had no intention of tying herself to someone who’d only drag her down.

For her, reputation and political power were far more valuable than fleeting pleasures of the flesh.

Honestly, if he’d just been a mindless machine that healed people on command, she wouldn’t be losing so much sleep over him.

(Sigh… isn’t there some way to erase just his personality with poison or magic, while keeping the rest?)

…Yeah. Having thoughts like that was exactly why Deabolica lived up to her name—“a devil of a woman.”

Since bending him to her will wasn’t an option, she was left with two paths:

—Put in the effort to keep him on a tight leash.

—Or erase him altogether.

She had just pleaded with her mother to spare his life, but realistically? Burying him would be the cleanest solution.

On top of that, there was no clear way to turn Yuji’s powers into profit.

The doctors guarded their turf jealously, and if he ever got raised up again as the figurehead of a coup, it’d be a nightmare.

That meant his abilities were basically unusable in this city.

Sure, she’d thought of one possible way to squeeze some money out of him—but she didn’t have the right connections to pull it off.

At the end of the day, Deabolica was nothing more than the third daughter of a provincial lord.

Inside her little domain, she could strut around like a princess.

But to outside nobles, she was just a landlocked, title-less country gentry girl—and not even the heir.

In the grand scheme of things, she wasn’t worth much at all.

For a small-time country noble girl like Deabolica, Yuji was simply too much to handle.

Of course, she would never admit that—even if someone pointed it out—but the fact that she unconsciously kept thinking about erasing him showed the limits of her capacity.

In any case, thanks to the doctors’ blackmail, Deabolica’s back was against the wall. She needed money fast.

That meant she’d have to take risks she normally wouldn’t touch.

And the seed of that risky moneymaking scheme? Yuji.

Even if she hadn’t figured out a safe way to cash in on him yet, his ability was like a limitless gold mine—an endless vein of wealth just waiting to be tapped.

She was staring down two choices:

Wipe Yuji out to protect her own safety…

Or swallow the poison called Yuji and use him as the weapon to fulfill her ambitions.

(Kill him, or let him live…)

As Deabolica sat at her desk, lost in that thought, the office door suddenly creaked open.

Wes poked his head in, eyes darting her way.

“Deabolica, you have a visitor. They insist you see them immediately.”

“A visitor? If they don’t have an appointment, send them away. I’m busy cleaning up yesterday’s mess.”

“Unfortunately, the guest claims their business is urgent.”

“Ah, forget it. Pardon me for barging in, but I’ll be coming in on my own!”

At the guest’s words, Wes bowed and swung the office door wide open to let him through.

The one who entered was an elderly man.

He wore a finely tailored tailcoat, a silk hat perched neatly on his head, and a cane in hand.

His attire was the very picture of a gentleman—nothing shabby about him at all.

His face, well past sixty, carried an air of dignity that could silence a room.

“L-Lord Goldon…”

“Forgive my sudden intrusion, young lady. I trust you’ll overlook my rudeness in light of the service I rendered yesterday, dispersing that little gathering.”

Yes—this was none other than Yuji’s so-called “slum grandpa.”

But his appearance today was worlds apart from the threadbare loungewear he’d worn yesterday.

Not just the clothes—the sharp gleam in his eyes brimmed with vitality, a far cry from the frail, withered man who had seemed ready to crumble like rotted wood.

Still, Deabolica knew this version—the one standing proudly before her—was his true self.

Goldon: the hidden mastermind of the slums.

He ruled over the underclass across multiple cities, providing food, shelter, and safety to the lost and desperate—while amassing great profit through arms dealing, drug trafficking, and smuggling.

By the letter of the law, those were all crimes.

But the truth was, many nobles relied on people like him to keep their cities running and their streets under control.

So his existence was tolerated as a “necessary evil.”

In polite circles, he was whispered of as the Dark Guild—or the Thieves’ Guild.

Goldon had once been a titled noble, renowned as a sharp and capable man in his prime.

But during the so-called “Glorious Revolution” coup more than a decade ago, countless nobles were stripped of their titles—and he too lost his lands and was cast out.

Instead of breaking, he clawed his way up through the underworld, amassing wealth far beyond what he’d held as a noble.

In recent years, after his legs failed him, he had stopped appearing in public. Rumor had it he’d lost not only his health but also his spirit, nothing more than a husk of the man he once was.

Even Deabolica had only ever seen him once in person—and back then, he had seemed like a washed-up old hound with dead eyes. She had written him off as a “finished man.”

(Finished? Hardly. Look at that gaze… Can this really be the same old man who was bedridden just yesterday?)

Goldon stroked his neatly groomed beard, his eyes locked on Deabolica.

It was like a veteran curator scrutinizing a priceless artifact from every angle—sharp, assessing, unnerving.

Feeling uncomfortable under that stare, Deabolica forced a polite smile.

“Well, well, Lord Goldon. You seem in excellent health today. If you needed something, you could have summoned me instead. Surely the sunlight is harsh after so long indoors?”

In plain language, what she meant was: “Don’t waltz into the guild so openly, you shadow-dwelling criminal. If anyone sees us together, how do you think that’ll look?”

It was the kind of barbed courtesy unique to Great Brishav nobility.

“Well now, my legs have recovered splendidly, thanks to that gentleman under your care. I came today simply to offer my gratitude. Though… I do wonder.”

Goldon’s gaze sharpened like a naked blade.

“You aren’t thinking of erasing him—just because he’s grown difficult to handle—are you?”

“…”

Deabolica’s entire back went rigid, goosebumps racing up her spine.

Though it was already autumn, a bead of cold sweat slid down her ribs and dripped from under her arm.

“Of course not. He’s a capable man. Disposing of him would be… unthinkable.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Merely the worries of an old bone, then. You see, rumor has it your lord received a gift of fifty gold coins from her daughter. Three times what that man earned in treatment fees. One does wonder where the extra came from. If that discovery made you hesitate to keep him under your wing… well, that would indeed be troubling.”

Goldon’s face softened into the gentle smile befitting his age.

But to Deabolica, it felt like she was being lightly slapped on the cheek with the edge of a drawn sword.

(Rumors? Don’t make me laugh, old man.)

That conversation had taken place in her mother’s manor, behind closed doors, just the two of them. There was no way such details could have spread.

No—this wasn’t rumor. This old man had come already knowing everything.

Even that Deabolica had secretly been toying with the thought of erasing Yuji.

“I’ve lived through a great many hardships. Losing my fortune, being stripped of my honor—yes, those were bitter trials. But what cut deepest… was the coldness of society toward those cast out of their rank. Everyone turned on me and my daughters. We had nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep. There were nights we shivered in the cold outside the city walls, waiting for dawn to come. Even after I gathered others who had also lost their place and began sharing food with them, our hearts never left those dark, freezing nights.”

The old man closed his eyes, his voice flowing steady and heavy.

“…And then came that man. He alone treated us as fellow human beings. Because of him, our hearts finally saw the morning light. We slum-dwellers never forget a kindness. To forget gratitude is to lose human pride and sink to the level of beasts. That is why we cling to it—why we respect those who stand beside us. And he… he reminded us of that truth.”

Goldon’s eyes snapped open, his tone sharpening like steel.

“If you would harm such a benefactor, merely because your pride is too small to contain him… then know this—we will not hesitate to strike back. We will pay any price, bear any sacrifice, and pursue vengeance until the very last of us.”

“Ha… haha. Hypothetically speaking, of course?”

Deabolica’s clothes were already damp, clinging to her from the cold sweat pouring down her body.

Goldon gave the slightest nod.

“Of course. But you already know full well… this is no joke.”

It was back when Lord Goldon had first drifted into this city, before his legs had failed him.

He doted on his granddaughter—the one he envisioned as a successor two generations down. But the girl caught a fever.

Despite Goldon’s repeated pleas, the physician employed by the ruling family refused to treat her, simply because she was a slum-dweller.

Without so much as laying a hand on her, the girl died.

Two days later, that same physician’s corpse was found in a pigsty. His body bore countless burn marks from hot irons, and the pigs had eaten the fingers from his hands and feet.

What words passed between the lord and Goldon afterward, young Deabolica never knew.

But one lesson had been hammered into her even then—that old man must never be angered.

And now, as an adult, Deabolica was being reminded exactly why.

“Rest assured, I have no intention of resorting to violence. However… regarding the crates we supply to this city. I’ve received repeated requests from other towns, begging for larger shipments. I was just wondering… perhaps it’s time to reconsider the distribution.”

“W-wait! I told you—I have no intention of harming Yuji. There’s no reason to reduce the supply here—”

“Oh, don’t fret. I’m merely speaking of thoughts inside my head. Much like the thoughts you’ve been entertaining about that gentleman… are they not?”

“Gh…”

The “crates” Goldon mentioned were code—referring to smuggled goods.

Deabolica herself was knee-deep in that trade through the Dark Guild. With the Adventurers’ Guild serving as her flexible private army, smuggling was an easy—and very profitable—way to build her personal fortune.

Even that hole in the city wall, the one slum kids used to hunt Big-Horned Rabbits?

That wasn’t dug out by children at all. Deabolica had ordered it made as a smuggling route, letting the Dark Guild and her adventurers move cargo in and out. The kids had merely stumbled across it.

Of course, all of this was a secret from the lord. If it ever came to light, not even being her daughter would save her. After all, she was pocketing tariff revenue that should have gone straight into her mother’s coffers.

Still, it was also true that the city’s prosperity rested on this smuggling.

Official trade between cities was monopolized by the Merchant Guild, but the Dark Guild’s network spanned multiple regions and offered a far broader selection—food, weapons, medicine, magic items, and yes, even banned substances like narcotics.

If the Dark Guild chose to restrict their shipments, the fallout for Deabolica would be catastrophic.

Not only would her savings vanish, but the city’s flow of goods would dry up, crippling commerce. And if the lord grew suspicious enough to launch an investigation… that would be the end of Deabolica.

Goldon didn’t need violence to destroy her. Ending her life was as simple as tightening his grip on the supply chain.

“What is it you want from me, old man…?”

“Now, now, no need for alarm. When I said we might ‘reconsider shipments,’ that could also mean increasing them. If you show the generosity to grant us this small request, then we will wholeheartedly support your ambitions.”

“Ambitions…?”

Deabolica’s heart gave a sharp jolt.

No—it was fine. She had never spoken her true ambitions aloud. At worst, they probably assumed she was just hoarding wealth out of greed.

“I still have old friends, you see. Ones who can pull strings not only in city governments, but among titled nobles… even within the king’s own circle.”

“…You mean, use Yuji as a way to approach them?”

“There is no shortage of the sick, no matter their rank. And those who suffer will pay any price to be freed from pain. They will be grateful. Very grateful. With Yuji, you could win the favor of nobles in the capital itself.”

Goldon leaned forward, his gaze piercing straight through her.

“You do want to step into the central political stage, don’t you? You don’t want to rot away in obscurity as just the third daughter of some backwater lord. You don’t want to end your days as nothing more than a provincial guildmaster. You want your name known by many. You want it etched into history itself. Isn’t that your ambition, Lady Deabolica?”

(How does he know…?)

Deabolica swallowed hard.

She had never told anyone. Not her mother, not her sisters. They all probably thought she only wanted the heir’s seat for this territory.

Ridiculous. She didn’t care about this backwater estate. She was aiming far higher. She had limitless talent, and the only stage worthy of her was the central parliament.

Having her secret ambition laid bare, Deabolica clenched her fist tight.

Goldon’s expression softened suddenly, his face settling into the kindly mask of a gentle old man.

“Well now, once you reach my age, you can spot it. I’ve seen those eyes before—burning with ambition. I once had the same fire myself.”

“…And what do you want in exchange?”

“As long as that man remains safe, that will be enough for me. Hmm… as proof of his well-being, allow me to invite him to my home once a month. To host him. There are many in the slums who wish to meet him. They would be overjoyed.”

At that, Deabolica gave a sharp little snort through her elegant nose.

“Don’t dress it up. By ‘host,’ you mean gather the people who can’t afford doctors and have Yuji heal them, don’t you?”

“…Only those with serious illnesses. We’ll keep it to around ten each time. And should he show signs of fatigue, we’ll respect his condition.”

Catching the faint trace of weakness in Goldon’s words, Deabolica’s expression twisted into a bold, defiant smile.

“So, you really are a former noble after all. What happened to that noble speech you gave yesterday?”

“When it comes to moving the masses, one must use a bit of convenient fiction. Still, the heart I put into that speech was genuine.”

“…Fine. It’s better this way. Seeing a bit of your true colors actually makes me trust you more. I’ll settle on that agreement.”

“My deepest thanks for your generosity.”

Goldon bowed deeply to Deabolica, all while smiling slyly to himself.

—If you want to control others, the trick is simple: let them believe they’re the ones holding the reins, while ensuring the only choice left is the one you wanted them to take. And if it costs you nothing? All the better.

He would bow as much as needed—even to a precocious little girl playing at statesmanship.

That was how he had always moved people. Back when he was a marquis. After he was stripped of his title and cast down to a commoner. And even now, as the kingpin of a criminal syndicate.

To him, this ambitious young noblewoman, burning with dreams so hot they might consume her, was nothing more than an unripe child against the weight of decades of sharpened cunning.

And he knew her weakness perfectly: show her the tiniest crack, and she’d instantly underestimate you.

Flawed in character though she was, Goldon judged her still adequate—a passable guide for Yuji’s future path.

The only thing Goldon hadn’t accounted for was this: Deabolica was strapped for cash for reasons he didn’t yet know, and her nasty habit of underestimating people was a little more extreme than he realized.

That very flaw, that careless choice… would later drag the city to the brink of becoming a sea of fire.

Not that Goldon could have known it at the time.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

All-You-Can-Eat Full-Course Fantasy Menu

・A Saintess

・Possesses healing powers that cure any illness

・Ridiculously sexy bombshell body

・Shiny, silky golden hair

・Overflowing motherly warmth, great with kids

・Naive and pure (a bit of an airhead)

・Devoted, loves being useful to others

・Can cook

・Poor but honest and straightforward

・Secretly a nympho at night

Perform well in the guild competition, and we’ll present such a girl to you as a wife!

…Oh wait, turns out she’s a saintess? Yeah, never mind! (← And that’s where we are now)