For the past 10 years, I’ve been rolling around in the back alleys. Now that an opportunity has come, I don’t want to go back to those alleys. The Empire will fall when the Demon King awakens anyway. Actually, the Bliss Margraviate will fall even before the Empire does, with all their boasting about how “the Empire’s spear will not break in the face of injustice” and so on.
In the coming years, I’ll eat everything I can eat and learn everything I can learn from the Bliss family, then flee to another country to avoid the Demon King.
To hell with the war. I have no intention of fighting the Demon King. How could I defeat such an overpowered character? I’ll live quietly and inconspicuously until the Hero achieves victory. For that, I can’t let go of the name Zaher Bliss.
“This is a learning opportunity I’ve barely managed to obtain. I have no intention of letting it go. Even if you don’t approve of me, I was Zaher Bliss, and I will continue to be Zaher Bliss.”
That was the most perfect survival strategy I could think of.
* * *
After lunch, I ended up getting sick. I thought it would be fine, but my body couldn’t handle all the grease that came in.
Cold sweat poured down and my stomach ached, but my cheekbones twitched and refused to go down. Butler Noah, unable to completely hide a faint look of pity in his eyes, guided me to my room.
Yes, I now have my own room. That means I no longer have to curl up in a hut, shivering in cold and heat.
“I was greedy, but I have no regr— ugh… my stomach.”
He must have been contemplating whether I would stay or not. The room was large and clean, but the furniture showed traces of someone having used it long ago.
Could this have been the room of the son who was called trash? The one who is supposedly my father doesn’t feel real to me. Although memories from my past life are gradually fading, I’ve never fully considered Zaher’s life as my own.
‘Since I suddenly entered a novel, who knows? Maybe I could suddenly return to where I originally was. This place has a bed, an attached bathroom, it’s pretty nice.’
I graciously accepted when the old man said he would call a priest for treatment, saying “Thank you very much.” He wouldn’t call a high-ranking priest who could heal just to cure a simple stomach ache. Even a margrave would find it difficult to freely use influence with the temple. Probably…
‘He’ll fix my fingers.’
I snickered, remembering how the old man had been glancing at my hand with only three fingers left throughout the meal.
In “Roll On, Hero,” there was no concept of potions. At best, there were only tonics, and priests handled healing instead of potions. Of course, that guy also betrays the Hero in the end.
The high priest can heal all external wounds except for reviving the dead. Surely regenerating fingers wouldn’t be too difficult.
The next day, I stayed in bed using my stomach ache as an excuse.
When you get sick from eating, the best remedy is to fast, so all I had all day was water. The old man was certainly busy, but he came to check on me once in the morning.
I was a bit excited to hear that a priest would visit this evening. Perhaps concerned about me, the old man made time to visit, sat on the edge of the bed where I was lying, and asked various questions.
For example, how I had lived and what I had been doing. Since there was nothing particularly worth hiding, I confessed everything.
A boy with no strength or stamina has limited options. I did simple chores and cleaning, manual labor, picked pockets, and occasionally climbed over the walls of other people’s mansions. Anyway, if the old man sent people to trace my past, it would all come to light.
Although I did pick pockets, I moved to survive, and never hurt innocent people. Of course, the bakery owner who cut off my fingers is a different story.
After listening to what could hardly be called a conversation—more like my survival report—during his brief break, the old man returned to his office.
Around sunset, a priest with deep wrinkles around his eyes arrived and shook his head with a grave expression.
“May the Light be with you. To speak frankly about what I’ve observed, too much time has passed for regeneration through pure healing.”
He meant that while he could heal my stomach ache, he couldn’t heal my fingers that had been cut off and already healed over. He explained that my body had already accepted the loss of those parts.
“Of course, regeneration is possible using another method, but…”
“If they can be regenerated, we should use whatever method necessary.”
The large knight who had escorted the priest responded calmly. He was one of the knights who had brought me to the mansion yesterday. The old man was said to be in his office with a backlog of work.
She introduced herself as Tomlin Wolf. As I had guessed, Tom was a knight and had been assigned to guard me temporarily on the old man’s orders.
“We need to cut off the healed wound. That way, when you receive treatment, the severed fingers will regenerate along with it.”
The priest trailed off with “probably,” indicating he couldn’t be certain. But there’s no choice. I don’t know what the probability is, but is that really so difficult? I simply nodded and extended my left hand.
“Cut it.”
In this world, there are no antibiotics or anesthetics. Priests take care of all that. Drugs could substitute for anesthetics, but the noble Bliss family would never allow such things for me. While the environment and lifestyle are comfortable enough for me, who used to be a modern person, it’s strangely old-fashioned in peculiar ways.
Come to think of it, the clothing and concepts are close to modern Europe, but the plumbing facilities rival the 21st century, including showers, flush toilets, and even cement. It’s strange that steam engines haven’t appeared yet.
Well, after all, it’s a world inside a novel. I guess it’s the limit of the author’s historical research.
Tomlin exhaled heavily with a “hmm” and drew her sword. Being in a security position, Tom is allowed to wear a sword even inside my room. I looked at Tom, who was waiting for my command, for a moment, then turned to the priest and asked.
“Where would be most efficient to cut?”
“…It’s best to cut as close to the healed wound as possible.”
“You heard the explanation? Once the priest is ready, cut immediately.”
I spoke to Tom imitating the nobles I had seen in the novel. Even though it was just pretense, the sight of a skinny, sickly-looking young master saying “cut” and such must have been quite impactful. The priest didn’t seem to mind my awkward formal speech.
Why are you surprised? I’ve been through much worse things; if it’s possible to regenerate lost fingers, I’d cut off my forearm, not just fingers.
“I’m r-ready.”
When the priest stuttered his response, Tom inhaled and cut across the back of my hand. Despite his skill, I thought there wouldn’t be much pain, but damn! The pain made me groan involuntarily.
As I gritted my teeth to suppress my groans, the priest immediately sang a healing song. The bleeding stopped, the wound healed, and my missing pinky and ring fingers regenerated.
Oh, as expected of fantasy. My stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, and even the slight muscle pain lingering in my body and the occasional aching ribs no longer hurt. I sniffled and raised my left hand.
“Thank you. They’ve grown back properly.”
“I’m glad you endured well, despite what must have been a painful treatment.”
“What did I do? I’m merely grateful for the divine providence that guided Priest Dainel here.”
I thought a high-ranking priest might appear in the main story as well, but Priest Dainel is a name I haven’t heard before. Still, I’m happier than if I had met characters from the main story. How could he compare to the priests in the main story who betrayed the Hero?
I smiled at the unfamiliar sensation as I clenched and unclenched my hand. Seeing my grinning face, the priest finally relaxed his expression and smiled along.
Though I was fully healed, after hearing that I should now rest, I exchanged brief pleasantries with the priest at the door and then lay down on the bed. It was Tom’s duty to escort the priest to where the carriage was waiting.
My hand has been restored, and my food, clothing, and shelter are guaranteed. Does this mean the old man has accepted me as his heir? Unable to fall asleep, I sat on the edge of the bed, which was larger than my entire hut, clenching and unclenching my hand, trying to erase the sense of disconnection. Watching me, Tom offered her congratulations stiffly.
“Congratulations on your healing, young master.”
“That’s not the only thing to celebrate. Congratulate me on my return as well.”
Unrefined words spill out habitually. Whatever. I haven’t been taught anything yet, so there’s nothing for me to be concerned about or pay attention to. The old man must have taken a liking to me though.
“Please tell grandfather that I’m grateful. Of course, I’ll personally express my gratitude when I pay my respects in the morning.”
He invited a rather high-ranking priest to his villa to treat a boy with yellow eyes and hair like violets, resembling the margrave.
Priest Dainel will return to the temple and inform Margrave Bliss of the existence of an heir. I thought they would keep my existence secret until I received some etiquette education and learned other common knowledge before revealing me to the outside. It’s only been a day, but our old man seems to be moving very quickly.
‘And such people usually want to rush the harvest too.’
It seems unlikely that I’ll be able to live comfortably in the future. When I said I was tired and needed to go to bed early, Tom bowed and left the room, telling me to rest well. I’ll probably have a headache from learning for the next few years. I giggled as I lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep without tossing and turning.
Before the morning sun rose, I got up and was lightly washing myself when a servant knocked on the door and entered. Similar build and height to Freckles, but with much gentler eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Jerry Merton, sir.”
I had to glare at the ceiling for a moment to keep from laughing. Knight Tom and servant Jerry. I don’t think I’ll forget those names.
When I asked his age, he said he was 15 like me. But he’s taller than me, and his voice is already quite deep, suggesting his voice is already changing. Still, his gentle eyes and nervous, flustered appearance make him look like my peer.
Well, I’ll grow taller quickly once I eat well, sleep well, and move around a lot. The old man was tall and stocky, and there was no description of Zaher Bliss being small in the side story. So thinking that I’m envious would be losing.
I had breakfast with the old man. I thanked him for calling the priest and immediately focused on the food. After fasting for a day and a half, I was quite hungry.
Whether concerned about me getting sick again or because it was breakfast, today’s meal consisted only of thin tomato soup, buttered bread sprinkled with salt on top, and scrambled eggs.
The scrambled eggs were moist and soft with plenty of butter and milk, so much that I had to eat them with a spoon instead of a fork. There must have been chicken stock added for hidden flavor because the umami was incredible.
With my mouth moist with butter, I tore pieces of salty bread with a crisp crust from the butter and pushed them into my mouth, making my whole body feel as if it was melting deliciously with the butter.
When my mouth started to feel rich, that’s when I would eat the tomato soup. Peeled, tender, sweet and tangy tomatoes with thinly shredded beef. And the slight spiciness cut through the oily taste instantly. Alternating between the sweet-sour and savory-salty flavors made it impossible to stop halfway.
“Since we can’t keep calling a priest for issues like stomach aches, Zaher, eat only non-irritating foods until your stomach adjusts.”
“Thanks to you, I was able to heal not only my stomach but also the wounds on my hand. Thank you for calling the priest, Grandfather.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
