Chapter 105

Cody had asked to borrow Harold’s sword. He’d made the plea knowing full well that the blade drained its user’s magic and shaved away their very life. While Harold harbored his own doubts about the sword's actual potency, it was undeniably a dangerous object—one that could comfortably be called a cursed sword. Naturally, he couldn't just hand it over with a casual "here you go."

Considering the risks, Harold preferred not to use it at all if he could help it, yet it was technically his lifeline in this world. More than that, the idea of lending it to Cody without knowing his true intentions was terrifying for a dozen different reasons.

Harold had fully intended to refuse.

Until Cody told him, "There’s a man who might be saved by that sword."

Three days after parting ways with Vincent, Harold found himself in a quiet country town. According to Cody, this was where the man lived—the one who might be saved by the power of Harold’s sword.

Despite his insistence that he had better things to do, Harold couldn't help but feel he was being pathetically soft. However, he told himself there was a possibility of profit this time. Even if the trip proved a waste of time, this town was a reasonable stopover on the way to his original destination. Besides, his next major move depended entirely on when he received word from Frieri.

If that was the case, there was no harm in stopping by "on the way."

(..."On the way," huh? Look at me, acting like such a big shot.)

It sickened him to approach the situation with such a cavalier attitude when a man’s entire life might hang in the balance.

Then again, looking at the timeline of the Original Story, the tale was rapidly approaching its climax. In other words, the time when Harold was supposed to die was drawing near. To be honest, he was reaching his limit; he didn't have the mental bandwidth to worry about everyone else anymore.

No matter how he tried to dress it up, his own life was his priority. He just hoped he could be forgiven for being a little selfish.

"...It’s a bit late for that, though," he muttered.

For the past eight years, he had done everything solely to survive. It just so happened that people had been saved along the way, but Harold himself possessed no noble ideology.

At his core, he was an ordinary guy. Even if his body and abilities were extraordinary, he couldn't afford to make the mistake of thinking he was some kind of hero. If he started thinking like that, he’d be paralyzed by the weight of every moral dilemma.

The ones who would save the world were Rainer and his party. Harold’s job was to cooperate from the shadows while keeping his own survival as the primary objective.

That was his place in this world.

"A bit late for what?"

"...Nothing that concerns you. Where is this man Justus brainwashed?"

Harold ignored Cody, who had sharply picked up on the murmur, and redirected the conversation. That was, after all, the reason they were in this town. To be precise, the man might have been brainwashed.

"Just ahead. Around that corner."

Cody led him to a nondescript rental house.

The exterior was poorly maintained; the wallboards were a patchwork of crude repairs and the windows were caked with grime. It gave off a heavy sense of desolation. Cody knocked on the front door. There was no knocker, so the sound of his bare knuckles thumping against the wood echoed with eerie clarity. Feels like the start of a horror movie, Harold thought, a bit rudely.

"...Who is it?"

A voice that still carried the pitch of childhood answered as the door creaked open. A girl, perhaps ten years old, appeared in the gap.

Her cheeks were slightly sunken, and her limbs, poking out from her dress, were as thin as dry twigs. Her appearance was enough to make anyone worry about her health.

"Sarah, it’s been a while. Do you remember me?"

"Y-yes... You're Cody-san, right?"

"That’s me, your papa’s friend. And this guy with the scary face is my friend."

Harold wanted to protest the "scary face" introduction, but he couldn't deny his habitual scowl. According to the game's setting materials, he was now 181 centimeters tall. To a girl Sarah’s age, a tall man with a permanent glare was undoubtedly terrifying.

Since he knew his mouth would only make things worse, Harold accepted the description in silence. Sarah was already trembling; he didn't want to frighten her further.

"Is your mother home?"

"She’s at work..."

"I see. What time does she get back?"

"...I don't know. Always late."

Listening to the exchange, Harold found himself drifting back to his own childhood.

Kazuki Hirasawa’s parents had both worked. As an only child, he’d been a "latchkey kid." He’d come home after playing with friends to an empty, quiet house, which felt particularly lonely during the winter months.

Then again, his parents had almost always made it home eventually. He’d spent the time between school and their return doing whatever he liked, so he hadn’t felt truly lonely. Thinking back now, it was because he’d been well-loved.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of longing to see his parents again. If he survived the game’s ending, would he actually be able to go home? Currently, he couldn't think of any other way.

"Hey, Harold."

Cody’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"What is it?"

"Come on in."

Apparently, while he was lost in thought, they had been invited inside. He wondered if it was really okay, given how much Sarah clearly feared him. His modern sensibilities made him feel like someone was going to call the police.

"Do you intend to do it right away?" Harold asked.

"No, that's a bit much. I need to explain things to his wife and get permission first."

(I guess that makes sense.)

It was logical, but it meant loitering in this house until Sarah's mother returned. It felt like a massive imposition. Nevertheless, he followed Cody inside. The interior was just as bleak as the outside had suggested.

"Who’s that, Big Sister?"

"He’s Papa's friend, Mihai."

A boy of about four or five appeared in the living room. Mihai had the same chestnut eyes as Sarah, and he was just as gaunt. One look at the house and the children told the story of their desperate poverty.

Their father, Finnegan, had suddenly suffered a mental collapse and been discharged from the Knight Order. The symptoms hadn't improved; he was bedridden and unable to work. That left the wife as the sole provider for two children and a disabled husband.

(This is even grimmer than Clara’s situation...)

They were clearly struggling to find enough to eat. If the children looked like this, their mother was likely starving herself to feed them. It was painful to witness such destitution up close.

"Where is their father... Finnegan?"

Harold wanted to confirm the man's condition. He’d addressed Cody, but the answer came from another source.

"Papa’s this way."

Mihai trotted up to Harold and tugged insistently on the hem of his coat. Whether it was the boy's natural friendliness or the fact that he’d been told this was his father's friend, his wariness had vanished.

Sarah let out a tiny, horrified gasp. She clearly thought her brother was being incredibly rude. His hands were far from clean; if he had done this to Harold's father, Hayden, the boy might have been killed for the slight.

"Lead the way," Harold said.

"Okay!"

Harold had no intention of being offended. He let the boy lead him through the cramped, one-story house. They reached a door in a short passage—too small to even be called a hallway—in seconds.

He knocked, but there was no response. He opened the door in silence.

The light from the overcast sky was weak, leaving the room in a dim twilight. A figure lay perfectly still on the bed. This was Finnegan.

"Papa, look! Papa's friend is here!" Mihai chirped at the bedside.

Finnegan didn't react. His hollow gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his only movement the occasional blink. Yet Mihai continued to shake his father's arm, calling out to him. The sight struck Harold harder than the poverty had.

He felt like he might actually tear up.

"That's enough."

Unable to bear the sight of the boy pleading with a father who couldn't hear him, Harold placed a hand on Mihai's head and stroked his hair. Mihai looked up, confused but curious.

Those innocent eyes reminded Harold of his younger half-brother, Huey.

A dark thought crossed his mind: What if Huey ends up like this? Even if Harold defeated the last boss, Justus, the fact remained that House Stokes had been a line of tyrants. In the Original Story, the family was stripped of its nobility and dismantled.

What would happen to Huey and his mother, Dorothy then? Her family were former commoners who had only regained their title through Dorothy's position as a concubine. They had no real power or wealth.

If the Stokes family fell, Huey wouldn't have a comfortable life. Even with House Sumeragi’s intervention, their help was focused on territorial stability, not the personal luxury of the former ruling family.

"What's wrong?" Mihai asked.

"...Nothing."

Harold knew he was being irrational. Saving this family wouldn't atone for his own family’s sins. Mihai and Huey were different people.

But it was only human to want to save the people within his reach.

"I’m stepping out for a bit. Cody, you stay here and babysit."

◇

"Did I make him angry...?" Sarah asked Cody, her voice trembling as she watched Harold’s retreating back. She was terrified that Mihai had offended the scary man.

Cody watched him go, knowing better. To anyone who didn't know Harold, he looked perpetually furious, but Cody knew the truth.

"It’s fine, Sarah. He’s actually very kind, despite the face."

"H-he is?" Sarah looked like she didn't believe a word of it.

Cody, on the other hand, couldn't even imagine Harold getting angry at a child. Harold had a foul mouth, but his actual temper was remarkably steady.

"Don't worry about it," Cody said brightly. He had a very good idea of why Harold had left. It was something Cody himself should have thought of, and would have done if Harold hadn't beaten him to it.

He felt a little guilty for letting Harold handle it, but he realized this was a perfect chance to fix the girl's image of his friend. He decided his job was to play backup. Cody Luzial was the kind of man who could live with himself for being a bit of a slacker.

About an hour passed. Just as Cody was starting to get along with the siblings, Harold returned.

He was carrying large paper bags in both arms. As Cody suspected, they were full of groceries. The only surprise was that the food was raw.

"Are you planning to cook?" Cody asked.

"Obviously."

"I figured you’d just buy some takeout."

"You'd feed heavy, greasy shop-food to malnourished children? You're a damn brute."

"...I stand corrected." Cody bowed his head in mock shame, but Harold ignored him.

Harold was right. Shop-bought food was usually salted and seasoned heavily. For children who hadn't eaten a square meal in months, it would be a shock to the system. Especially for a four-year-old like Mihai.

(I guess single guys really are clueless... wait, Harold’s single too.)

It wasn't about relationship status; it was about who was more considerate.

Harold took off his coat, revealing a crisp white shirt, and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. He shoved wood into the stove and used a burst of magic to ignite it instantly. Sarah and Mihai cheered in wonder.

Ignoring the applause, Harold put a pot of water on to boil and began washing vegetables with practiced, efficient movements. The man was a natural in the kitchen.

"Need a hand?" Cody offered.

"Can you even cook?"

"...I think you know the answer to that."

"Then you're useless."

A perfectly direct insult. Cody couldn't even argue.

As Harold began peeling and dicing the vegetables with professional speed, Sarah finally gathered her courage.

"U-um..."

"What?" Harold grunted.

"I-I can help... I can at least wash or cut things..."

"Unnecessary."

"But..."

"Instead, take your brother and get him clean. Use this, and be thorough."

Harold pulled a bar of soap from the bag. It was a high-end, expensive brand—the kind nobles used, packaged in a fine wooden box.

Sarah was a young girl; she likely hated being dirty and unkempt. Whether Harold had sensed her silent shame or not, he had gone out of his way to buy it.

"T-this looks so expensive...!"

"It's pocket change. Clean yourself up while you're at it. Don't think for a second you're sitting at my table with filthy hands."

It was a classic Harold line, but the subtext was clear: he was protecting her dignity. He didn't want her to feel like a pauper while she ate.

Sarah seemed to realize it. "Thank you so much!" she said, bowing deeply before leading Mihai toward the bathroom.

Cody watched them go, then turned to the man at the stove. "Look at you. No wonder you’re popular with the ladies."

"I have no food for men who work less than livestock," Harold snapped. "If you don't want to be poisoned, get outside and chop some wood."

"Yes, sir!"

The insult was scathing, but Cody didn't hesitate. He headed outside to find the axe, grinning to himself.