Chapter 92
“Sometimes, when I look at you, I honestly start wondering just how shameless a person can become.”
Seeing Flora happily drinking apple juice while sitting among the Red Serpent Mercenary Corps, Basilian clicked his tongue.
Just last night, she had boldly asked for the leftover wooden mercenary tag as a memento, saying she’d just been promoted to the bronze rank. Who would have thought she’d end up using it like this?
What kind of noble even thinks of disguising themselves as a mercenary?
As Basilian shook his head, muttering that it was a crazy idea, he wondered if he was the only one thinking so. Sitting beside him, the Red Serpent’s captain, Frek, and vice-captain, Jad, were too busy grinning, finding the whole thing adorable.
“She was like that when we first met too. Our young lady is really sharp.”
“She didn’t get scared when she saw us, didn’t cry either. She was confident. Look at her now—eating with us just fine.”
As they chatted among themselves while watching Flora eat so heartily, the two men suddenly seemed to realize something and asked the girl sitting between them,
“Miss, if a stranger offers you something tasty and tells you to come with them, what should you do?”
“Hand it over right now, you bastard.”
Her bold reply made Frek burst out laughing. Following his lead, Jad threw out another question.
“Then what if an unfamiliar adult asks you for help?”
“An adult can’t handle things on their own and asks a kid for help? What did they even do with their age?”
“Whoa, you’re good with words.”
Satisfied with her answer, the two of them cracked up.
Flora, having just finished her apple juice, spoke up again.
“I told you not to call me ‘miss.’ Call me Ria.”
Though her eyes, asking whether they were going to keep messing it up, were downright fierce, the two mercenaries just kept laughing, clearly amused.
“Alright, alright. Our Ria.”
“Our Ria, Basil’s little sister!”
Watching the two of them laugh loudly, Basilian frowned in irritation.
Flora had suddenly changed her hair and eye color to something ordinary, boldly used his wooden mercenary tag, and then even demanded a part of his name. The memory resurfaced.
〈No. Why would I take your name? Make a new alias.〉
“Basil” was a nickname he had allowed only Flora to use—something uniquely hers.
No matter how much she insisted, this was something Basilian absolutely refused to yield on, so he stood firm.
But as always, he ended up losing to Flora.
〈Basilian is mine, so his name is mine too.〉
Caught off guard by her brazen declaration, Basilian couldn’t say a word. Flora, taking his silence as agreement, declared it settled and went off to report to Benio.
Well—she had tried to leave, but Basilian grabbed her and asked,
〈W-Why am I yours?〉
〈Because I decided so?〉
〈……No matter what, I’m my own person!〉
He didn’t want to stoop to a childish argument, but nothing else came to mind in the moment.
Flora smiled brightly, like a flower blooming.
〈What are you talking about? Basil is mine.〉
Overwhelmed by her possessive confidence, Basilian had no choice but to let go of her hand and add,
〈Then let’s go with Ria instead of Rian. Rian sounds too much like a boy’s name.〉
He didn’t feel that way at all, but she looked so earnest that he couldn’t refuse.
Flora nodded as if she were doing him a favor and went to Benio to explain the backstory she’d decided on.
Ria, the younger sister of Basil, a mercenary belonging to the Red Serpent Corps.
Whenever her older brother went out on subjugation missions, there was no one to take care of her, so she had no choice but to rely on the mercenary corps. This time as well, the mercenaries had brought her along as an assistant courier, worried about leaving her alone.
“Oh my, our Ria. You eat so well.”
A rough hand patted her head, tousling her fluffy, warm brown hair.
Even so, Flora seemed used to it, calmly accepting the touch while sipping her soup.
“Unlike her brother Basil, she eats well. Eat lots and grow big.”
Hearing the roundabout jab about not focusing on his meal, Basilian turned his head away with a sulky expression.
Who’s siblings with who.
He wanted to shout that they weren’t siblings at all, but for Flora’s safety, they had to stick together. He couldn’t ruin the story she’d set up.
What if she ends up hating me because of it?
They could’ve just said she belonged to the mercenary corps, but Flora had carefully avoided creating rumors about the Red Serpent exploiting a child. That only made it more important for him to cooperate.
“Shameless to the core…”
The only resistance he could muster was muttering under his breath like this.
“That’s my charm.”
Of course, her overwhelming shamelessness quickly buried even that small act of rebellion.
After finishing their meal, people began standing up one by one.
Seeing the pile of empty dishes, Flora got up to clean, and Basil followed, bending down to help in her place.
“I should be the one doing this.”
“Who cares who does it? As long as it gets done.”
“Oh, that actually sounded like something an older brother would say.”
“And yet you don’t treat me like one.”
The two of them snickered as they carried out their temporary roles as assistant couriers quite well.
At that moment, their eyes met with members of the Execution Office who seemed to be passing by on a short walk through the area.
Wow, they’re seriously unpleasant.
Were they even aware this was the Devil’s Forest? The stubbornly pristine white clothing they wore stood out all the more for how poorly it suited the place.
Are they that confident their clothes won’t get dirty? Or are they just planning to stay out of any situation where they might?
Whatever the reason, even stripped of the Execution Office’s insignia, they radiated arrogance.
When the two men noticed Flora and Basilian, they frowned conspicuously.
“So there really are rumors about mercenaries making children work.”
“To think it’s actually true. Well, what can you expect from mercenaries? Barbaric to the core.”
Their insults toward mercenaries naturally extended to the two of them as well.
“Still, don’t they look pitiful? Destined to live like that their whole lives.”
“At least they’re both fairly good-looking. Who knows how things might turn out.”
“What’s the use of being pretty when they’re leeching off some lowly mercenary band? Such a pity. If only we could help.”
Throwing looks of pity at Flora and Basilian, the two continued their conversation until more mercenaries began to appear. Eager to avoid any entanglement, they hurriedly left.
Seriously, bad luck.
Isaac had said that people from the Execution Office were all nobles, constantly fawned over, and mostly insufferable—and he’d been right.
I hope they trip and dirty their clothes on the way out. Though… that would just make life harder for whoever does the laundry.
Grumbling internally as she continued picking up trash, Flora suddenly heard a tense voice beside her.
“You’re a noble, and you’re treated like that—doesn’t it make you angry?”
Seeing Basilian seething with rage, Flora blinked and lightly patted his back.
“Were you upset? It’s okay—”
“I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you!”
Basilian snapped, his face full of anger as he demanded,
“They were obviously looking down on you. Aren’t you angry at all?!”
“I’m a commoner right now, aren’t I?”
It seemed his earlier comments had really struck a nerve.
“Choosing not to reveal my status was my decision, so it can’t be helped. Of course, even if I were truly a commoner, that doesn’t mean I deserve to be humiliated like that.”
“……”
“And honestly, experiencing things like this firsthand really makes you understand what mercenaries go through. It gives you motivation to work harder to improve their treatment later.”
She also felt a growing resolve to knock the Execution Office down a peg—but wisely kept that to herself.
“And it’s not like I was the only one who heard that. You heard it too, Basil.”
“I hear stuff like that every day.”
When it was about Flora, he’d exploded like a volcano. When it was about himself, he was suddenly calm again.
Flora couldn’t help but frown.
“Don’t take that kind of thing for granted. I don’t want you—or any other mercenary—having to work while being treated like that.”
As she spoke, she raised her arm and gently patted Basilian’s now-dejected head.
“And you know what? Among people like that, who act like they’re something special and pity us, there isn’t a single one who actually steps forward to help.”
“What?”
“I guarantee it. The ones who do nothing are always the loudest.”
It was a realization born from her own experiences growing up in a poor orphanage.
“If they truly felt sorry for us, they’d come help right away. But they don’t. They just talk—offering pity that’s worse than useless.”
Of course, there were people who sincerely worried about those they saw suffering.
But what those men had shown was a sense of superiority gained by looking down on others.
“It’s just hypocrisy. They comfort themselves by thinking they’re better off, while tearing others down.”
Thinking about how empty they must be to find solace in something like that, she felt more amused than angry.
“So don’t let it get to you. No matter what anyone says, you and I are both far better people than people like them.”
