It was surprising that the reply to my letter came in a day, but what was even more surprising was the letter’s content.
[It’s regrettable that our trust was only this much.
You don’t seem to believe me, so I’ll send my two sons.
When I give you what you want, you can nicely let my sons go. What do you think?
I’ll send my most precious children, so I hope you won’t say that you don’t believe me.
Instead of saying that time is too limited to be generous, perhaps one should learn how to wait. ]
The man swept his light blue hair, looked at his letter, and laughed loudly.
I knew she was crazy, that one villainess but I could have never predicted that she would send her two sons as hostages.
The man, Pien, quietly put the letter down on the desk and exited the room.
If the author of the letter realized what he had stolen from her, his throat wouldn’t be attached to his body for long.
To put it nicely, whether it’s because of Pien’s free-spirited spontaneous personality or badly, because of his shortsightedness–he often was bold.
He just acted with a simple thought: Don’t get caught.
There is only one reason why a man who lives with simple thoughts had lasted in this shady place for so long.
Because he was strong.
A loud voice called Pien down the corridor, with a cheerful skip.
The greeting belonged to a person Pien loathed the most.
“Why are you calling me?”
“I’ll give you a chance. A chance to make a contribution.”
This bullshit again.
Pien did not hide the disgust on his face.
“What’s with that sour look on your face? Do you dare ignore me?!”
He heard a shrieking yell but wasn’t intimidated at all. Rather, it reminded Pien of an ignorant fly buzzing around loudly.
Pien rubbed his itching ears and sent a sharp look to the man.
The man was strongly oppressed by his stare and trembled.
Pien looked down on the man and laughed on the inside.
The man gulped and opened his mouth without retreating.
“As I said before, the people here are cowards who don’t have enough conviction to move. Because of them, warlocks have no face.”
It was a self-serving interpretation.
The reason warlocks did not take action was not that they were scared but because it was not yet time to move.
“Let’s stand up and kidnap the saint while those idiots are hiding under the covers. Then we’ll be the highlight of the ball!”
Pien clicked his tongue against his teeth when he saw the man spitting out his plans in a fit of excitement.
Was he always this much of an idiot?
I was a moron myself, but this was more than that.
I felt like parts of my brain were decaying while listening to this man talk about things he knew nothing about.
Pien ignored him and walked past him.
Did you not think that you would be ignored by spewing such bullshit?
The man was flushed with the shame of being ignored by Pien.
“You’ll regret it for missing this opportunity, you idiot!”
You’re going to kill the saint?
If he’s planning on murder, he would be making colorful and elaborate plans– earning a bad name for warlocks.
The wizard frowned. Pien’s chance encounter with the man irritated him.
But, as usual, his irritation was soon quickly forgotten.
Insignificant things were always promptly erased from his memory.
Pien stopped at a rusty door.
The old door made Pien guess the condition of the room inside.
“Still, they grew up as precious young masters— I’ll give you a better room.”
It was a tone of regret, but his countenance belied his joy.
This was a prohibited area.
Regardless, Pien didn’t care; he grabbed the doorknob and turned it.
The magic in the room rejected him, but Pien simply dismissed the magic.
As expected, the two precious young masters were bound together.
“Who are you?”
A boy with a nasty temper answered his greeting.
When the boy, Carron, saw Pien appear out of nowhere, he felt his anger rise again.
Since the time of Alastair’s—and maybe his own?— brainwashing, she didn’t seem normal… but how could she not read this from the og translators site and even reach out to hurt her own family!
Still, he’s her child.
He didn’t expect his usual thoughts to come back as thorns.
“Now, let me go! Take it off—Let me go, you bastard!”
“I’m sorry, no can do.”
“What?! Then get the hell out! Son of a bitch!”
It was natural that unruly Carron couldn’t stand his anger and yelled.
Maxion bound up next to Carron, sighed.
He was also frustrated with being tied up, but he was with his damn crazy loud brother, who made his ears ring.
If he was going to be a prisoner, he wished they had locked him up in his own cell.
“Hey, can I ask a question?”
Unlike Carron, who yelled and panted, Maxion kept his reason and calmly opened his mouth.
“Why are we imprisoned here?”
“Well. Knowing the reason won’t change anything, do you need to know?”
“Yes, at least I think it’s better to know than not to know.”
Pian looked closely at the boy who spoke, unlike the irate boy next to him.
That’s weird. Why did he look so familiar?
He walked towards Maxion, who gulped as he was confronted with Pian’s overbearing aura.
It said that if you are stupid, your courage is tall. That was completely Carron’s story.
But that wasn’t Maxion. Even if he wasn’t very smart, he was an independent thinker.
It was natural for him to feel raw fear here.
“Yeah? But guess what? I’m not your savior or here to answer your questions. I’m here to satisfy my own curiosity.”
What an asshole!
Pien grabbed Maxion’s chin as he complained internally.
Maxion’s frowned due to Pien’s heavy-handedness. Pien looked closely at his face; he wouldn’t have been interested in it normally, but he wanted to jog his memory.
Oh, I remember. No wonder. The woman he saw at the slave auction.
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