The Villain Bought the Heroine - The Villain Bought the Heroine chapter 95
Chapter 95
Crane entered the room slowly.
Inside, there were no traces of another person.
Mana’s energy fluctuated, but it wasn’t human.
“Everyone has gone outside. They even stopped by the church. Did you miss them?”
Bargan naturally read his gaze and spoke, which Crane found unpleasant.
Once you start seeing something in a negative light, everything they do seems wrong.
“It seems the familiars are quite agitated.”
Nearby, creatures presumed to be Bargan’s familiars stared intently at him. Entities uninterested groomed themselves or slept deeply.
“Don’t you have to communicate regularly with your familiars? Someone who knows better than anyone… Ah, well. Maybe not.”
Bargan chuckled softly and swallowed his words.
He looked at that smile with dark eyes.
This, too, was inappropriate.
“…I thought you were an honest person.”
“Is there a reason you thought so?”
Crane’s eyes twitched momentarily as he recalled the past, but he quickly suppressed it with a hand gesture.
This was a matter of admitting his shortcomings.
“You didn’t immediately reject my mentoring proposal. Normally, you would have turned me away or shown some apology. Instead, you boldly insulted me, mentioning the name of Haelion.”
“If that’s how you perceived it, I regret it. I had no intention of offending you, Crane.”
Bargan replied sincerely.
His statement carried no falsehood and came through clearly.
“I spoke favorably of choosing Haelion, not because I found it better, but because I wouldn’t have declined your mentoring proposal otherwise. I was quite interested in your craft as well.”
“Then, you weren’t honest but rather rude.”
Crane furrowed his brow at Bargan’s attitude, which seemed to compare him to Haelion, as if pointing out the difference in performance like a product.
Feeling the contrast with Haelion made it even more pronounced.
Bargan seemed oblivious to the fact that Crane was becoming upset.
…Well, that’s that.
He hadn’t come here to blame himself for not being chosen as a mentor anyway.
After rechecking his surroundings and observing the state of the familiars, Crane realized that there were no specific orders given to them.
Jo-ye was as skilled in manipulation as in exorcism.
It was unlikely, but if Bargan had known that Krain would come, and had strategically positioned these items to threaten him, he would have realized their intentions through their reactions.
He picked up a whip from among the messy demon-hunting items, brandishing it.
It seemed brand new, as if never used before.
“Exorcists are quite fascinating, aren’t they?”
Having somewhat sorted out his emotions, he calmly continued speaking. His face, which had been tense upon entering this place, now appeared relatively relaxed.
“People are troublesome. To use them, you need to establish relationships, which require a lot of time and effort to maintain.”
As he unfurled the whip that seemed neglected, it slithered like a snake, its tail touching the ground. With a light flick to the side, the whip sliced through the air sharply.
“On the other hand, the relationship with exorcists is very simple. Listen well, and you will be rewarded; ignore, and you will be punished. If you can manage these two aspects, educating most exorcists is almost complete.”
“That’s not entirely unreasonable.”
“That’s not entirely agreeing with me either.”
Bargan, chin in hand, looked up at the ceiling, appearing deep in thought.
Though clearly a contrived action, when he did it, it oddly felt natural.
After pondering, he said, “Well, it’s a discussion related to emotions and educational theory, so it wouldn’t be wise to dismiss it outright. But… it doesn’t seem like you’ve come here to talk about that…”
“I’ve come to verify the truth in place of the church.”
“The truth… Hmm, I’ll hear you out for now.”
If the conversation continued, one might suggest someone take a seat, but the atmosphere was far from conducive to that.
A slight tension hung in the air like dawn mist.
Bargan appeared attentive.
“So, you’ve ‘contracted’ with Frickanlisk?”
“Yes, the process itself was no different from contracting with a regular exorcist. The only distinction is that it’s a mutually beneficial contract, not in my favor but equal to both parties.”
“Equal terms? Hah, hoo-hoo⎯!”
Suddenly covering his mouth as if to prevent vomiting, Krain spat out a chuckle.
“Lies! You’re spewing lies right now⎯!”
Enraged, his face turned a deep shade of red and blue.
Reminiscent of Jekyll and Hyde.
Slightly surprised by the abrupt change in attitude, Bargan, opening his eyes as if to enjoy the response, asked, his voice slightly teasing.
“Lies, you say?”
“You claim to have made a contract on equal terms with a deity?! What nonsense is that?!”
His assertion went something like this:
Twelve deities do not make contracts on equal terms, or even terms advantageous to the other party. There are several reasons, one being the unwritten rule that they cannot interfere with humans, triggering an instinctive rejection response.
“If what you say is true, does that mean that others’ thoughts appear to them like a painting in their eyes? Can they clearly see what I’m thinking right now?”
When a contract is made with a deity, one can share a part of their power. The more favorable the conditions of the contract are to the human, the more power they receive.
“Frickanlisk’s eyes can see into the hearts of both demons and humans! So, tell me, what am I thinking right now? What emotions am I feeling, and what am I imagining? Go ahead, answer!”
Krain was visibly angry.
Making a contract with a deity on favorable terms?
If that were possible, he would have done it long ago.
Perhaps he hadn’t even considered putting Frickanlisk into Chimera.
Even if her husband was Eintern, who hadn’t signed a contract, to think this kind of nonsense…!
From Noble mtl dot com
Right now, Bargan is not just humiliating himself but also enjoying mocking and ridiculing it! Otherwise, he wouldn’t spout such nonsense!
“How embarrassing.”
Bargan flicked his finger against his chin, murmuring ‘Hmm…’ softly.
Then he asks.
“Would it be alright for me to say it out loud?”
“Sure, go ahead and try. Listen carefully to what I say!”
Bargan grinned mischievously.
He jokingly says,
“First, you seem quite angry. Quite a lot, actually.”
⎯Thud.
Upon those words, it sounded like something snapped in Crane’s brain, filled with excitement.
As if releasing built-up stress from the past few days, Crane unfolds his magic like a blooming flower. Emerging from the circular summoning circle was a bizarre-looking chimera.
“If this is a joke, you might want to stop.”
It was a chimera.
With a lion’s face, horse’s legs, and wyvern’s wings spread out. Its tail moved freely like a snake, and its skin was as tough as armor.
Bargan intervened with his hand as if to stop his actions, letting out a chuckle.
“I just said ‘first.’ It’s not over yet, but you seem in a hurry.”
Now, I will give you the answer you desire.
Bargan calmly scrutinizes him as he speaks.
“I see a fierce mother white tiger. Beside her, there is a man who appears to be her owner and a cub white tiger.”
“What?”
Ignoring Crane’s deepening expression, he continues speaking.
“A hunter who appeared from somewhere kills the man and takes the cub white tiger. He took advantage of the mother white tiger who was asleep.”
Crane’s pupils were gradually dilating, but he tried not to show a strong reaction, listening to Bargan’s somewhat fairy-tale-like story.
It seems like a proper judgment can only be made after hearing it all.
“The greedy hunter, not content with the cub’s skin, now aims for the mother’s. He hunts the mother white tiger with the help of a hunter friend he had assisted before.”
Approaching the still Crane, Bargan takes the whip from his hand, turns the handle part upside down, making it look like a microphone.
“The hunter lost his friend in that hunt, but he was able to obtain the mother white tiger’s skin he desired so much. It’s a very happy ending fairy tale where he could survive the cold winter with that skin.”
Bargan snickered, raising one corner of his mouth, then held the whip handle, microphone-like, near his mouth.
As if to listen to someone’s appreciation.
“How is it? Quite similar, isn’t it?”
“….”
“I believe this should be enough to prove my point.”
Instead of replying, Crane grits his teeth sharply, grabbing his jaw forcefully and pushing him against the wall.
His hands were trembling, but his eyes were determined to kill the opponent.
This isn’t reading his current thoughts…!
“What, what… What nonsense are you talking about right now?”
Even his trembling voice made the sound coming out of there shaky.
“I don’t want to hear such delusions!”
He pushed back forcefully, exerting even more strength in the hand gripping Vargan’s collar. His eyes glared fiercely to the point where blood vessels seemed ready to burst. Yet, upon closer inspection, this appeared to be a defensive mechanism to conceal his own unease.
“What are you so afraid of?”
Vargan’s words were as venomous as a sting. “Are you afraid of the cruelty and brutality of the hunter from the fairy tale I mentioned? Are you expressing intense emotions out of pity for the dead white tiger and its master?”
The poison in his words was far more potent than the paralysis toxin used by Krain when he killed Aintern, and it acted instantly, not hours later.
“If not that, then… are you afraid because your wicked and peculiar sin has been exposed?”
If so, you’d be described not as a villain or a criminal, but simply as a supporting character disguised as a villain.
When Vargan spoke thus, “I can’t understand a word you’re saying! Right now, …right now, I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying!”
He denied in exasperation. Vargan, as requested, explained in a more understandable way, “The white tiger is Frikkanrisk. Its master is Aintern. The cub is their offspring. Don’t you get it?”
Vargan pressured him psychologically. How startled he must have been to suddenly hear a secret that no one besides Ami should know in a place like this.
Was that why?
“No….”
Krain released his grip on Vargan’s hand and took a step back. He clutched his head, his pupils bulging forward.
“No, no, no!”
A voice so loud and unpleasant to hear. He became agitated and screamed, “It’s not me! It’s not me!”
Resembling a pitiful excuse, it was more like a cry.
His demeanor changed swiftly, reminiscent of a reed. Once pitiful, he now appeared pathetic.
“It was the voice… it was the voice…!”
“A feeble excuse,” Vargan remarked.
“Everything, from reminding me of Frikkanrisk, ordering me to kill Aintern, telling me to kidnap the child, it was all because of the voice… the voice I heard inside me commanded it all….”
As Vargan listened to his poignant wailing, he coldly distanced himself. He no longer treated him as a human.
“…You’ve lost your mind, Krain.”
Breathing heavily, Krain appeared rigid, displaying an unstable demeanor, like someone suffering from drug or alcohol addiction.
Expressing extreme anxiety symptoms.
“I’ve been insane. I lost my mind a long time ago once I heard the voice! My body hasn’t been mine since then! That’s why. …That’s why. It wasn’t me… I didn’t want to kill anyone… Please, believe me…”
Desperately trembling, he reached out to grab Vargan, who did not resist.
Contemplating something, he removed the chill in his voice.
“Is this another personality within you commanding you?”
“No, different… That’s not me. It’s something separate from me… It’s real. It’s real…”
“Is that so?”
Bargan says.
The misdeeds he had committed seemed to be lifted, refreshing.
“Alright then. Let’s believe in each other.”
Bargan, with a compassionate expression.
Reassuring him, showing a positive attitude.
Though there was an apparent sudden change in stance, Crane now wanted to grasp onto even a handful of hope.
“You believe… You believe in me? Really… You believe in me?”
“Yes, I saw sincerity in you.”
Bargan asks gently.
Being cautious of the potential for an outburst.
The expression now was clearly borrowed from the techniques of the saint, Difipelia.
“Help me believe in you more. Only a sincere answer can save you.”
“W-what… What is it…”
“Who was it that moved following the voice within you?”
Crane struggles.
He tries to determine whether it’s right to speak about this now. But. He is currently.
“That… I… I did it but…”
He couldn’t make a sound judgment.
Part of it was due to the curse Bargan had slowly been laying, but the biggest influence was his extreme mental unrest.
He was already too broken.
“Is that so?”
Bargan smiled slyly.
Then he plucked out the eyes of the demon doll scattered around and floated them in the air.
Facing the figure, he declares.
“Sinful Crane has confessed his sins!”
A visual magic used to provoke everyone in the classroom. With the evolved form of it right before his eyes, Bargan reveals.
“For the sin of trying to kill one of the twelve gods, Frickanlisk, solely due to my filthy desires! For the sin of murdering the warrior Aintern, her husband and my comrade! For kidnapping their innocent child, leading to the current situation!”
There were more sins, but there was no need to spread information about Ami here.
Bargan sneered at the guilty Crane, who was trying to decipher the situation absentmindedly.
“Could it be…”
Only then did Crane understand the whole sequence of events.
Everything that had happened here was being broadcast as visual magic, and Crane had confessed his own sins.
And the place where the broadcast would take place was probably.
The square where people gathered the most in Durtmund.
“The square…!”
Furthermore, he was questioned about the sin of destroying six villages, though he did not keep it to himself until the end.
Crain swiftly moved his body and spewed out mana.
In response to his mana, the summoned beast Chimera swelled up like a balloon filled with air and charged towards Vargan. Crain did the same.
“This brat—!”
Upon seeing this, Vargan let out a light chuckle.
His words were not finished.
“Stripped of the title of hero and sentenced to death.”
“Cough…!”
As if buildings were collapsing, holes opened up from all directions as the heroes rushed in, subduing Crain and Chimera.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
They were prepared, veterans with years of experience, fiercely angry almost as much as Crain.
They were the Hailion Team.
Warriors belonging to Yannick’s team, Crain’s colleague from Durtmund.
Vargan stood by, protected by them.
He was quietly savoring the easily progressing conclusion of this story.