Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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“This... is quite strange.”

“What is it?”

Duon wiped his nose and cleared his throat, stroking his mustache. He handed the object to Ronan and spoke.

“I can’t figure out the material at all. I used to have a broad perspective even on pets, so I didn’t think my knowledge was limited... but I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Damn... Could it really be a gem and not just a piece of crap?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow at Duon’s confident tone. Duon rummaged under the counter and pulled out a small hammer. One side of the iron head gleamed with a bluish hue.

“This is an emotion-enhancing hammer coated with mithril. One of the most expensive items in our shop.”

He tapped the object with the hammer. A sound unlike the usual impact reverberated. Ronan squinted his eyes.

“This sound...?”

“Do you know the properties of mithril?”

Ronan nodded.

Known as the “Prince of Metals,” mithril had the unique quality of producing a sound like the one just heard when it collided with materials of similar or lesser hardness.

“Try holding it.”

“What? Are you sure?!”

Ronan caught the hammer. He struck the object again. Cha-aang! The resonating metallic sound captured the attention of the market crowd.

“What on earth did you bring in to sell?”

Ronan clicked his tongue. He had struck the object with force, but it showed no signs of damage. The hardness of the object was comparable to or even greater than mithril. Duon couldn’t hide his admiration either.

“One thing’s for sure... Whatever it is, it’s an extraordinary item.”

Whether it was gem or dung, it was awe-inspiring. Ronan found the possibility of it being a gem slightly more unsettling. If it was an egg, it means that some life form will broke out of this shell.

“Are you planning to sell it? I’m interested in buying, but...”

“Oh? No, I’ll just keep it. I can’t sell something I don’t even know.”

“I think that’s the right choice. Get a proper appraisal.”

Ronan put the object back into his pocket. He wasn’t eager to sell it now, even out of curiosity. He intended to find someone more knowledgeable or inquire with the creator named Barren.

At that moment, Aselle poked Ronan’s back. He made a motion with his lips, saying the word “Philleon.” Ronan clapped his hands and turned to Duon, speaking again.

“By the way, it seems like you’re interested in buying and selling anything. Do you happen to have any books related to Philleon?”

“Hmm? Are you referring to Philleon Academy?”

“Yes.”

Ronan explained his situation. He needed to gather information for the entrance exam next month. Duon’s face brightened considerably as he nodded along.

“Ah, you’re prospective students for the entrance exam? This works out quite well.”

“It’s going well, isn’t it?”

“My daughter is also taking the Philleon exam this time. I might be able to offer some help, even if it’s just a little.

“Marya!”

He called out while looking at a carriage set up behind the counter. The modified baggage carriage served as both a means of transport, a shop, and a warehouse. When no response came, Duon started knocking on the carriage as if knocking on a door.

“Marya! Mar!”

“What? Marya?”

At that moment, a head popped out from the roof of the carriage. The girl had impressively voluminous golden hair, and she was the smallest-headed woman Ronan had ever seen. She opened her mouth with an annoyed expression.

“Stop it... Didn’t I tell you to not call me that?”

“Oops.”

Ronan burst into laughter. The dialogue was quite incongruous with her doll-like appearance. Suddenly, a sense of recognition flashed through his mind.

“Hmm? Wait a minute. I’m sure...”

Small head, golden hair. The face seemed familiar from somewhere.

Marya.... Marya? Where have I seen her before?

The memory hovered on the edge of his consciousness. Duon, putting his hands on his hips, began to grumble.

“Marya! What kind of behaviour is that?”

“If you’re annoyed... Ugh, let me go independent.”

“Really!”

Marya yawned unabashedly. Aselle’s face turned pale. Stretching herself with a yawn, she leaped down from the carriage. Her graceful landing was reminiscent of a cat.

“So, who are you guys?”

Anyway, on the day the count arrived, he threw a lavish banquet. The penal soldiers, who had piled up resentment, could finally release their tension amidst a feast of exquisite food and drinks they had never seen before.

As the finest warrior, Ronan sat by the count’s side. Sen’s unpretentious personality allowed for enjoyable conversation despite his noble status. After about thirty rounds of drinks, as Ronan refilled the glasses, he slurred his words.

“Hey, um, I have a curious question, Count... um, are you silver... below as well?”

“What? Below...?”

“Why not? You know, down there, the... ahem... private parts and, um, the backside... Do you have... silver hair? Nobles might be different, I was just wondering. Hehehe.”

“...You brat!!”

The count’s face turned crimson as he slapped Ronan’s cheek. Rolling twice, Ronan grabbed a bottle and smashed it onto the count’s head.

Crash!

The banquet came to an abrupt end.

“...There was a reason for his anger.”

The last time Ronan saw him was during the battle with Ahaiyute. The number of soldiers the count had brought along was almost equivalent to an entire legion.

To boost the soldiers’ morale, he had stood at the forefront, only to be swept away by an explosion on the first day of battle.

“He was a good person.”

Ronan twisted his lips and lowered his gaze. Marya’s face, still brimming with spirit, caught his attention. Even from this angle, her developing chest was starting to make its presence known. How had she managed to hide that? It would have grown larger over the time.

“How could you mention that name?! No, you should apologize to dad before anything else!”

Marya shouted loudly. Aselle was nervously watching their interaction. Ronan raised one hand to restrain Duon, who was about to scold his daughter.

And then, he lowered his head.

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

Aselle’s face contorted in shock. Duon tried to help him up, but Ronan remained frozen as if rooted to the spot.

After a while, when another customer arrived and Duon left his seat, Ronan finally lifted his head slowly. Marya, with her arms crossed, snorted in a huff.

“Hmph, it’s good that you’re quick with apologies.”

“It wasn’t directed at you. You, flat-head girl.”

Whack!

As Ronan rose, he delivered a punch to Marya’s forehead. The intensity was far different from the honeyed words of affection from Duon. Marya practically collapsed to the ground.

“Ugh... ugh...”

“If you don’t want trouble, don’t touch my face. Got it?”

Ronan warned. Although he couldn’t fathom the circumstances that led the Earl of Armalen to cross-dress, the count he knew was the continent’s foremost magnate. Building camaraderie could undoubtedly yield significant influence.

“I got it.”

“R-Ronan... that’s enough now...”

However, he wasn’t particularly keen on building camaraderie to the extent of bowing and scraping. What Ronan had said to Duon was undoubtedly rude. As Marya’s father, his anger was perfectly understandable.

Yet, apart from that, he didn’t feel good about getting slapped on the face. The rest of the cause and effect wasn’t clear to him.

“Uh... ugh... it hurts...”

Marya clutched her head and didn’t get up. Sniffling sounds started to escape her. As Aselle jabbed Ronan’s side, he winced.

“You hit her too hard...”

“I didn’t hit her that hard... damn it.”

Her small shoulders were trembling miserably. Her crying was growing louder. Ronan sighed and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Hey... Why did you do that? Next time, calm down and discuss things properly!”

Thump!

Marya jumped up, clutching her knees, and delivered an uppercut. Ronan’s body swayed from the direct hit to his chin. Her face, now visible, showed no traces of tears.

“You jerk! I thought my head was about to split in two!”

Without hesitation, Marya grabbed a nearby chair and swung it down on his head.

Crack!

His face broke through the chair’s seat, sticking out. Amidst the untimely commotion, the market-goers’ attention converged.

“C-Customer! Marya! What’s going on right now...!”

“This darn woman...!”

Veins stood out on Ronan’s clenched fist. Duon, who had been receiving another customer, rushed over, throwing money in the process. As Aselle screamed like a banshee, he shouted:

“I-Invisible Hand!”

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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