The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 40

Chapter 40: A New Business Partner

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After finishing the matter of the well and slipping out of the whirl of gratitude and cheering, the two walked over the stone pavement back to the Barmasty Trading Company. It was still some time before evening, but the town’s shadows were slowly growing longer. When they stood before the door, the sound of paper rustling inside stopped, and an immediate reply followed.

“Come in.”

When they opened the door, Cron was standing by his desk. He wasn’t wearing his usual easy smile. His deep violet eyes shot toward them with a solemn color.

“The request is done.”

When Lloyd stated only the necessary point, Cron nodded once and said lightly,

“Ah, I know. I was watching too.”

“…You were there?”

Lloyd raised his brows slightly. When had Cron arrived at the edge of that well? It was sharp-eyed of him, or perhaps a merchant’s instinct… Or maybe he had come to check whether Lloyd and the others would actually do the job properly.

“Please, have a seat.”

Cron gestured to the sofa. After watching them sit down, he also sat across from them. His shoulders held no excess tension, yet his gaze alone carried a strange weight, pressing against the chest of the one receiving it.

“Well then, you two—no, young lady over there. Who exactly are you?”

Cron turned not to Lloyd, but toward Lusha. The question was abrupt, but its lack of unnecessary words made it all the more clean and direct.

“Eh?”

Lusha let out a soft sound. From beneath the edge of her hood, her light-blue eyes wavered slightly.

“I saw that pillar-like light rising from the well too. And you instantly purified an old well contaminated by monsters and restored it to how it used to be. I had a feeling you weren’t an ordinary person, but honestly, what you did wasn’t normal. Even a priest, no—maybe even a high priest couldn’t do that. So, if you don’t mind, would you tell me who you really are?”

Within his easy tone mixed excitement, confusion, and a restrained respect. Lusha glanced toward Lloyd from within the hood. In her eyes was a hesitation that refused to lie. Lloyd looked straight at Cron and said.

“…That depends on how tight your lips are.”

At that, Cron raised one corner of his mouth and smiled only with his eyes.

“Heh. Who do you think I am? I’m a merchant. Anything that comes up in negotiations is bound by confidentiality. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. That’s how I’ve kept my business running until now.”

There was no sign of deception. Rather, his eyes held the instinct to sniff out profit… And the rules that protected it.

If we’re going to bet, this is the place.

Lloyd turned to Lusha and gave her a slight nod. Lusha took a small breath and reached for her hood. The cloth fluttered, and silver light melted into the air of the room. Her long, silver-white hair flowed over her shoulders as her light-blue eyes met Cron’s directly. She stood and bowed gently.

“I apologize for introducing myself so late. My name is Lusha Catomiar.”

“…Huh?”

The moment he heard her name, Cron’s eyes lost focus for an instant as if seeing something unbelievable, then snapped wide.

“Lusha Catomiar…? You mean that Lusha Catomiar!? The White Saint!?”

Disbelief swept across his boyish face, making him appear years older in an instant. He looked to Lloyd for confirmation. Lloyd gave a silent nod.

“I–I can’t believe it! The legendary Saint, the White Saint, is standing in my office!? That’s impossible. What in the world is going on!?”

The air in the room tightened. She’d finally revealed her name. There was no going back now. Lloyd glanced at Lusha and she nodded. They would tell him.

“We’ll explain the situation. But our condition is absolute secrecy. If you slip up, your life could be in danger.”

At Lloyd’s warning, Cron swallowed hard. It wasn’t a bluff. The church currently possessed a fake White Saint, and the fact that the real one was here—and that an outsider knew—was dangerous in itself. Even if Cron reported “I found the real Saint,” the church might silence him permanently instead. Judging by how they had treated Lusha, the current church was more than capable of that.

“…All right. I’m the one who stepped into this. Keeping promises is part of being a merchant.”

After exhaling with resolve, Cron fixed his gaze on them.

Lloyd explained carefully. Lusha’s divine oracle, the inner workings of the church, the “false saint” brand forced upon her, the sense of pursuers, and the beginning of their escape. He kept embellishment to a minimum and told only what was necessary. The only thing he concealed was the location of their base in the remains of Zaxon Village. Revealing that would be far too dangerous. By the time the story ended, Cron remained leaning forward, frozen in place. His youthful face now carried a shadow appropriate to his age.

“My god… So the Saint who’s appearing at the ceremony right now is a fake, and the real one escaped and is here? That’s the church’s darkness itself.”

“That’s why I’m telling you your life is in danger. Regretting it yet?”

Lloyd teased lightly, but Cron’s smile was thin and his eyes were anything but light.

“…No. I’m glad I know. I don’t want to walk into a battlefield blind. If I know the situation, I can prepare accordingly.”

“Prepare…?”

Lusha tilted her head. Cron nodded.

“Yeah. The church is one of my clients. If they found out by accident that I’m helping the real Saint, I might’ve ended up dog food without even realizing why. You saved me.”

The “boy merchant” rubbed at the corner of his eyes and leaned back. From his position, such a fate wasn’t unlikely. Even if he claimed he didn’t know she was the real Saint, the current church wouldn’t listen.

“And….”

He continued.

“Looking at it the other way around, I can pull information from the church. If there’s any sign that your presence is about to be discovered, I can tell you quietly.”

“You’d let us know? Then…!”

When Lloyd leaned forward, Cron raised his hand to calmly stop him.

“Yes. I’ll help you two. Ah, on the condition that you continue working as ‘handymen.’ If you do, then I’ll treat you as valued clients. I’ll look into the church’s activities too.”

“Of course.”

“We appreciate it.”

Lloyd and Lusha’s voices overlapped. There was no issue. It was a mutually beneficial agreement. Sometimes a verbal promise was better. Trust exchanged through one another’s gaze—something like that seemed to bloom between them.

“Well, I’ll be earning from the brokerage fees anyway. Honestly, it’s only natural. But… I’ll be crossing a dangerous bridge too. So, to protect each other’s interests, we protect each other’s secrets. How’s that?”

Cron shrugged playfully. His voice wasn’t cold, but beneath it the silent scales of profit and loss swayed yet stopped precisely where needed. Some trust could only be measured by such scales.

Perfect.

Bound by profit, solidified by agreement, reinforced by action. That was something Lloyd could handle. And having a merchant familiar with this region was invaluable. They had only recently arrived here and still knew little.

“And one more thing, both of you. Word about the well today will spread fast. Not just good rumors, curious ones too. Don’t show your faces too much for a while. I’ll narrow down the requests you receive.”

“Yeah. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Oh, and Saint-sama. When you go out, keep your hood on like before. All right?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied with their answers, Cron nodded brightly and clapped his hands.

“Alright then. Once again, welcome to the Barmasty Trading Company. I’ll move to make things easier for you two to move. First, let’s settle today’s request.”

A small feather pen glided over paper. A pouch containing several silver coins and copper coins clinked quietly as it was placed on the desk. The weight of money connected to their livelihood, and the signature across the paper pointed toward their future work. Lloyd accepted the pouch and looked at Lusha. She had put her hood back on and smiled softly at him from within.

The more allies, the better. But… That’s not all.

It felt as if a signpost had appeared along a path he used to cut through only with his sword. The signpost read “Handymen,” or something close to it. Being relied on, acting, responding to it. 

Through that cycle, the footing he needed to protect Lusha would grow stronger.

“Well then, I’ll give you your next request another time, once I see how things look. For today, rest well. …Ah, and Saint-sama.”

“Yes, what is it?”

When Lusha tilted her head, Cron leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.

“That white light… Please keep it to a minimum. Your power is beautiful, but it also makes you stand out. Use it only when necessary. If you really have to use it, choose a time when people aren’t around.”

“…You’re right. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Lusha stiffened in realization and lowered her shoulders. Thinking about it, she could have purified the well at night when everyone was asleep. That failure was Lloyd’s as well. They needed to be more careful.

“Well then, I’ll be counting on you again. Rest up today.”

Cron smiled, stood smoothly, and opened the door. The outside air was cooler than in the afternoon, carrying a faint mix of iron from the forges and the sweet smell from the street vendors. A child laughed across the street, and the bell tower far away marked time quietly.

Lloyd stopped at the door and turned back. The scent of paper and tea remained in the room. The “boy merchant,” standing at the center, was far sharper and far warmer than he looked.

“Well then, if anything comes up, we’ll count on you.”

“Ah. Likewise. I’ve got plenty of problems to deal with. I’ll rely on you.”

And that was how Lloyd and Lusha, with the introduction of the Barmasty Trading Company, continued their work as “handymen.”

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