The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 30: The Worst Boy, Part 4

The Worst Boy, Part 4

A searing pain overwhelmed Bodoin, and the metallic taste of blood welled up from his throat. The sound of liquid dripping heavily, drip, drip, echoed in his ears. On the floor below, a darkened crimson stain spread rapidly.

W-what… what is this?!

Bodoin tried to cry out in shock, but his voice failed him. All that escaped was a frail, wheezing gasp, lost in the air.

Shock. Confusion. Bewilderment.

He had definitely struck Il. Of that, there was no doubt.

Il had made no move to resist—hadn’t even taken a defensive stance.

Yet the one who suffered a fatal wound was Bodoin.

As his vision dimmed, Bodoin’s gaze fell on Il.

The boy wore a sorrowful expression. Bodoin stretched out his arm toward him, grasping at empty air before collapsing onto the ground.

Even if a third party had been present, they would never have been able to comprehend what had just transpired.

What Il had done was an act of causal inversion.

A supernatural power that reversed cause and effect. You could call it a swapping of subject and object, though the reality was something altogether different. The result, however, was the same.

The act of Bodoin cutting Il was rewritten into the result of Il cutting Bodoin.

It was an utterly irrational, worst-of-the-worst kind of power.

Il let out a small sigh as he gazed down at Bodoin’s lifeless body, the man’s face frozen in shock.

That was it. It was over.

Anticlimactic as it was, everything was finished.

Now all that remained was to feign fear and run to the guards, screaming, “The old man’s been killed!” Not a soul would suspect Il. Not one. It was unthinkable that Il, with his limited skills, could have taken on Bodoin head-on and won. The possibility simply didn’t exist.

Turning away from Bodoin’s corpse, Il began to leave. But as he did, he noticed someone leaning against the workshop’s doorway—Rimrim.

Behind her stood Shia, her face downcast.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah.”

“I… I didn’t mean to spy on you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Il said with a shrug. “Not like knowing makes any difference anyway.”

For Rimrim, this was likely nothing unusual. But for Shia, who had lived far removed from the world of killing and being killed, the sight was surely unbearable. Il glanced briefly at Shia, still standing behind Rimrim with her face lowered, and let out a bitter laugh. His resigned smile seemed to carry the weight of the world.

Rimrim, averting her gaze from that smile, spoke again.

“Honestly… I thought you’d be more upset.”

“Why would I be?”

“Well… wasn’t he like a father to you?”

Rimrim’s face was filled with sorrow. Il responded by flicking her nose lightly with his finger and shrugging his shoulders.

“What’s with that face, you idiot? It doesn’t suit you.”

“Because…”

“I’ve already given up on it. This is the curse that’s been cast upon me. People close to me try to kill me, and then they die on their own. That’s the curse.”

In a situation where those close to him are forced to kill him, when they try, Il ends up killing them instead.

It’s a relentless cycle, an inescapable, worst kind of loop.

That is the true origin of the boy’s epithet: The Worst Illness.

As she watched the boy’s bitter smile, Rimrim realized why she had been so irritated by him. This boy, too, was a victim of a lonely fate, much like her own.

The moment she had that thought, a single idea flashed through Rimrim’s mind, like a lightning strike.

It was a terrible, truly terrible idea.

Though she didn’t know all the details, Rimrim at least understood that Il’s ability was something akin to deflecting attacks.

If that were true… perhaps this boy could deflect Rimrim’s poison as well? However, even if the poison were to rebound onto Rimrim, there was no way she would die from her own poison.

In other words, nothing would happen. Yes, nothing would happen as a result.

Which means…

The family she had longed for, that she had been forced to give up on. With this boy, perhaps she could have love, children, and a family of her own.

At that thought, Rimrim suddenly shook her head.

No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait! I can’t rush into this! I still have the right to choose. I’ll have none of this scum. What was I even thinking?

She pressed her heated cheek with her hand, twisting her mouth into a frown.

Rimrim’s actions were quietly observed by Shia, who had been watching her intently from behind.