13.
Mercenaries and bandits.
Over a hundred people were entangled in a chaotic melee, exchanging blows with blades.
Lancel glanced once more at the man who called himself the Demon King.
“Hahahaha! Wipe them all out! Kill every last one of them! They dare trespass on this Demon King’s territory!”
The man was utterly infatuated with his self-proclaimed title, a vicious-looking bandit leader with nothing particularly interesting about him beyond that.
‘Umm?’
Lancel felt his senses sharpen as he unexpectedly stumbled upon new information.
=============
—Name: Intermediate level bandit, Avalon.
—Reward: 30 Gold Coins and all the loot.
—Notoriety: 5 Karma points
=============
“Karma, huh?”
What a stroke of luck.
Lancel gestured toward Marigold, who was perched atop a tree.
With a simple, intuitive gesture—a hand drawn across his throat as he pointed at the bandit leader—she nodded in understanding.
“Kill them all! Kill them all and send their heads to Baron Porland—!”
The bandit leader’s booming voice cut off abruptly.
Marigold’s feet, descending from the sky, landed lightly on his shoulders.
“What…!”
A dagger was drawn from Marigold’s lap as she crouched on his shoulders.
“Quiet!”
She pressed the blade against the bandit leader’s neck in a fluid motion.
“…How did you…!”
“Order your men to stop!”
“Grrr!”
He wasn’t the type to listen quietly. Given that capture meant certain execution, his reaction was understandable.
“You bitch…!”
As he struggled and reached for his weapon, Marigold’s blade slashed across his throat.
“Gah!”
He collapsed, coughing up blood-tinged foam.
—Intermediate level bandit Avalon has been defeated.
—Karma decreased by 5 points.
—Marigold’s current Karma: 10 points.
Lancel then understood how worked. The amount deducted corresponds to the Karma points the opponent had accumulated.
‘He should have been worth at least 15 points. What kind of Demon King nonsense is this, just worth 5 points?’
Lancel drew his sword from its sheath. Karma was meaningless until it reached zero within a single playthrough.
‘I’ll need to deal with those remaining 15 points somehow before ending this playthrough.’
It was only a minor penalty of having “Initial funds stolen, “but it would still be a significant setback for the young Marigold.
“Let’s wrap this up quickly and go collect our reward, Mary.”
“I heard that Baron Porland’s son has been captured.”
“Ah.”
.
.
.
“Thank you! Thank you so much! You are the heroes of our region! Tell me if you need anything at all!”
Having thoroughly looted the bandit base down to the last speck of dust, Lancel and Marigold suddenly found themselves parading through the streets of Porland.
Riding in an open-topped palanquin.
“The entire city will hail you as heroes! You’ve returned over twenty captives to their families!”
Baron Porland’s overzealous fanfare, which nearly led to the extinction of his lineage, had created this spectacle.
‘This isn’t some kind of triumphal procession, is it?’
A palanquin carried by burly men.
Lancel and Marigold perched atop it.
Thousands of onlookers swarming around them.
“Behold! These are the ‘Heroes of Porland’ who vanquished the notorious bandits! Memorize their faces! Treat them with utmost respect throughout the festival!”
Baron Forland’s repeated shouts echoed through the crowd.
“Heroes of Porland!”
“Married mercenaries!”
Even the Porland citizens joined in, chanting these absurd phrases.
Lancel shuddered at the atmosphere, which clashed with his temperament, but he kept his complaints to himself.
“Hello!” Marigold waved enthusiastically at the crowd.
She was clearly enjoying the situation, shaking hands with the children who reached out to her, even when flower petals accidentally flew into her mouth, causing her to choke, “Ack-ahem!”
“Having fun?” Lancel asked.
“Of course! We’re being praised! You should wave too, Sir Lancel. Like this!”
Marigold forcibly lifted Lancel’s hand and waved it. A roar of cheers erupted from the crowd.
“The Hero of Porland has waved!”
“They say he used that hand to strip the flesh from the bandits’ bones!”
“They say he pulled out their intestines and used them as jump ropes!”
‘How gruesome.’
After the parade ended, Baron Porland approached Lancel with an awkward expression.
“Due to our current financial difficulties, we’ll have to pay your reward in instalments. Is that acceptable?”
‘So that’s why they were making such a fuss.’
It was all a staged hero-making scheme. As expected, the nobles of the Empire were all cunning foxes.
In the end, Lancel only received fifteen gold coins out of the promised thirty. It wasn’t like he could forcibly extract the rest when they claimed to have none.
Still, fifteen gold coins would be more than enough for the remaining six years he had left. So, it wasn’t a big deal.
“In exchange, I’ll cover all your expenses during the festival. Enjoy yourselves to the fullest! Come back for the remaining fifteen coins in two years!”
“Yes, well … sigh.”
“Trust the honor of House Porland! I’ll repay you in two years, without fail! Absolutely!”
“Please don’t come back to collect,” seemed to be the plea written in Baron Porland’s eyes.
14.
The Porland Ale Festival.
It was as grand a celebration as rumored.
Countless people strolled the streets, beer mugs in hand, while meat sizzled endlessly at stalls lining the roads.
With the bandit gang that had plagued the city finally dealt with, the crowds were even denser than usual, reveling in the festival spirit.
“Married mercenaries! The heroes of Porland deserve free drinks!”
In an instant, Marigold’s hands were overflowing with meat skewers and a massive beer mug.
Unlike Lancel, who politely declined most offers and turned away, Marigold had no concept of refusal. She eagerly accepted everything offered, gobbling it down without hesitation.
“Pwah!”
Marigold’s face flushed crimson as the alcohol took hold of her.
“Don’t drink too much. You have a terrible drinking habit.”
“Surely not!”
That was all there was to it.
A festival spent going back and forth between the harbor and the city, spending the day with Marigold.
As evening approached, Lancel and Marigold settled down on one side of the square.
“I can’t eat any more, Sir Lancel.”
“Of course not, after all you’ve eaten.”
He patted Marigold’s unusually swollen belly.
Her beer-filled stomach thumped like a ripe watermelon.
“Hic.”
“……”
“……Sorry.”
Marigold, her face flushed with embarrassment, suddenly clung to Lancel.
“Let’s pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“But I did hear it.”
“Please forget it.”
“I’ll try.”
Marigold’s cheek, pressed against his shoulder, was burning hot. Her body temperature seemed to have soared with the alcohol.
As dusk fell over Porland Square, campfires were being prepared. The voices of workers stacking the massive bonfires echoed through the air.
‘Finding the Demon King within six years, like this…’
Lancel doubted whether it was even possible, but he kept his doubts to himself.
This playthrough was entirely dedicated to Marigold.
Whatever plan or purpose she had in mind, he intended to follow it without complaint.
============
—March 25, 821 of the Imperial Calendar Year. Weather: Mostly clear.
—The fervor of the festival. The voices of children. A cool breeze blowing along the harbor. The sunset painting the sky crimson. Every detail is etched into Marigold’s memories.
※To preserve this moment forever, Marigold desperately tries to imprint the festival’s sights and her fiancée’s presence into her memory. Charm, Emotion, and Allure have gone up!
============
“I… I wish time could just stop right here.”
Marigold suddenly murmured, recalling memories from a previous iteration where she had lived in a dream with him. He had said something similar back then too.
But this was no dream; it was undeniably reality.
“You can just come again. The baron told you to come back for the money anyway.”
“I don’t think I’ll have time.”
“Then… in our next life, you’ll have to bring me here again.”
Lancel said this to Marigold, the regressor, without much thought, the words slipping out carelessly.
“……”
Marigold’s eyes trembled, and she remained speechless for a long time.
Watching the whirlwind of emotions swirling across her face, Lancel tilted his head slightly in confusion.
“That’s right,” Marigold finally managed to say, her voice strained. “I hadn’t even considered that.”
Time.
Opportunity.
Coincidentally, these were two things the pair had in abundance.
Finding the Demon King, Marigold’s journey, and their lives together—they would have countless more opportunities. Perhaps even an infinite number of opportunities.
It didn’t matter if they occasionally made mistakes or wasted chances by going in circles. They could simply look forward to the next one.
Whether there was a Demon King, a hero, or something similar at the end of this path was ultimately irrelevant. It was their first time doing this, so failure was inevitable.
“Ah.”
Lancel suddenly rummaged through his cloak.
He had forgotten something he bought during the festival.
“Here.”
“……!”
Lancel pulled out a pair of rings.
“They’re just cheap ones from a street vendor, though.”
The rings were made from melted-down scrap iron. The stones set in them, meant to resemble gems, were likely just common pebbles.
Lancel felt a wave of regret wash over him as he finally presented the ring. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
‘Did I choose too hastily?’
He had impulsively bought the first thing that caught his eye, and the result was embarrassingly plain. How could this be a wedding ring for a noble?
“…No, let’s just pretend this never happened. We’ll exchange it for something else later…”
“I like this one.”
Marigold’s hand reached out and firmly grasped Lancel’s arm, preventing him from pulling it back.
“This is perfect. No, it has to be this one. Please, Sir Lancel.”
The unwavering grip in her hands conveyed a fierce determination. Lancel scratched his chin and reluctantly took the ring out again.
“Then… let’s just consider this a temporary one…”
Lancel slowly slid the ring onto Marigold’s ring finger. The ring fit perfectly on her slender finger.
“Even a cheap ring or a necklace would do. Anything that reminds me of you, Sir Lancel. After all, you thought of me when you bought this, didn’t you?”
“Is that all it takes?”
“That’s all it takes.” Marigold’s eyes flickered, but the quiet smile on her lips refused to fade, as if she were recalling a cherished memory.
“I’ll treasure it forever.”
As the inexpensive ring settled onto their hands, flames suddenly surged from the campfire.
“Ah!”
Marigold gasped in awe. Lancel blinked in surprise at her sudden reaction.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dancing! Dancing, Sir Lancel! Dancing!”
“Dancing?”
Marigold abruptly stood up.
“Yes! By the fire! Dancing!”
Lancel was dragged toward the bonfire, held captive by Marigold’s grip.
“Phew, I almost lost you there. That would have been a disaster!”
“…?”
“I’ll take the lead now. Hehe.”
The festival dance wasn’t nearly as elegant as the ones enjoyed by nobles in the palace.
The space was crowded with drunken village men and women, their clumsy movements barely qualifying as dancing—just holding hands and spinning in circles.
The music was terrible; the bonfire was too hot, causing one’s hair to be singed frequently; and drunken men would harass married women, leading to fistfights. It was a pathetic excuse for a dance.
“Hehehehe!”
Yet, in Lancel’s memory, all that remained was Marigold’s silly laughter.
“What are you writing so intently?”
Back at the inn, Lancel found Marigold scribbling in her notebook.
“Ah!”
As Lancel approached, Marigold hastily hid the notebook behind her back.
“It’s a secret.”
“……”
Lancel barely suppressed the urge to peek.
“So, where are we headed next?”
Marigold quickly unfurled the map.
“F-first, we’ll cross the Ritten Desert. It’s supposed to take about three days to get there, so we need to prepare thoroughly… After that, there’s Firefly Village, a famous place…”
As Marigold meticulously traced their route with her finger, she suddenly stopped at one particular location.
“Here.”
A region that was unmarked on the map.
“We’ll enter the Empire through my hometown.”
The ancestral lands of the Marigold County family.
It seemed this would be the final destination of their journey.
Lancel gazed at the area on the map, quietly committing the location to memory.
.
.
.
“This is the area.”
He pointed to a blank spot on the map.
“We’ll search here for the woman His Highness the First Prince seeks. Grab every woman we find and bring them all back!”
Kyle Dante picked at his ear as he listened to the Commander of the Knights’ orders.
The Knights of Orleans, the order to which he belonged, were all about brute force. That was why he liked it.
“Grab every woman with blonde hair and green eyes! Whether they come willingly or not, bring them all! Then gather them up and take them to His Highness the First Prince! Got it, you bastards?!”
“Yes, Sir!”
“The Knights of Verdunia are joining this operation too. We can’t let those bookworms steal our glory, can we? Especially you, Kyle! You’d be too humiliated to live if you lost to your brother again, right?”
Suddenly, Kyle Dante remembered Lady Dunk, his fiancée.
“Bring me the barony. The one your brother was supposed to get. If you get it, my father and I will acknowledge you properly.”
“I have to win.”
Kyle Dante.
He had more than enough reasons to defeat his brother.
“All I have to do is win.”
They better not touch Mary