Bad Guy Theorad (4)

Theorad was in an unusually cheerful mood as he walked through town with Ashley.

He talked about anything that came into his head, as though there were no worries in the world.

Ashley listened, smiling and nodding as he spoke.

It was wonderful to see him enjoying himself.

But every time her gaze drifted to his face, a painful feeling returned.

Those dark circles under his eyes…

Before he'd brought the elf into his household, Theorad had looked healthy and full of life.

Now his features were drawn, and the exhaustion beneath his eyes made him seem almost ill.

It was an awful contrast to the brightness of his smile.

“I stopped by our farm recently,” he was saying. “The pepper-tree breeding seems to have succeeded. At this rate, we might actually be able to grow pepper in the Empire! Once the harvest is established, I'll send a gift to House Pelgaroin. Your father will enjoy it, I'm sure.”

He was so genuinely delighted that Ashley didn't have the heart to interrupt.

Yet there was something disconcerting about how naturally that tired face suited the cold expression he'd worn earlier.

Cute? Me? The head of House Deharem?

She remembered the way he'd looked at her with those ridiculous black cat ears on his head.

She'd been flustered by his confidence.

The headband had made him adorable, but his sudden, stern manner had made her heart race for an entirely different reason.

She'd known Theorad since childhood.

Even so, there were sides of him she was only now beginning to discover.

Perhaps he didn't know how charming he could be.

That was charming in itself.

I can almost understand why the elf is so obsessed with him.

“Ah, here's the restaurant I visited with Beynon the other day,” Theorad said. “If you're hungry, shall we eat here? Their food is quite good.”

“Ashley?”

She blinked.

“Hmm?”

“Shall we go in and have something to eat?”

“Oh! A meal. Yes, of course. Let's!”

Her answer was a little too eager.

Theorad noticed, but mercifully chose not to comment.

“Then let's go.”

The restaurant's interior was decorated with antique furnishings.

It was smaller than the dining rooms of their family estates, but that gave the space a certain charm.

“What a lovely place,” Ashley said.

“I'm glad you like it.”

They exchanged a brief smile.

A waitress greeted them, led them to a table by the window and took their order.

“Thank you. I'll bring it out shortly.”

She left without any unusual fuss.

Theorad reached up and touched his black cat-ear headband.

“This really is remarkable.”

When he'd visited with Beynon, that same waitress had been so nervous she could barely contain herself.

Now she had taken an order from Count Pelgaroin's daughter and the head of House Deharem with perfect calm.

It was as if she were speaking to two ordinary customers.

The enchantment seemed to be working exactly as Ashley had promised.

“Who do you think found these?” Ashley asked proudly.

She straightened her posture.

The motion drew Theorad's eyes toward her chest.

He quickly looked away, embarrassed.

“They're genuine articles, certified by a prestigious magic establishment,” Ashley explained. “Quite versatile, too. People apparently use them for secret meetings with their lovers.”

“I can see why.”

Theorad gave a slightly bitter smile.

Ashley understood what had brought that expression to his face.

She cleared her throat.

“There's something else. About the elf.”

“Something you've learned?”

“I hired people to investigate privately. The results are more curious than I expected.”

She leaned forward.

“First, I couldn't find any written records of a red-eyed elf. At the very least, there's nothing in the Mage Tower's library.”

Theorad frowned.

How could there be no record?

An elf who had lived for centuries must have been seen by someone at some point.

And surely a creature that unusual would have appeared in a written account.

He felt a chill creep down his back.

“Do you think… perhaps the woman in my house isn't actually an elf?”

“No. I believe she's an elf,” Ashley said. “There are stories, even if they aren't in books.”

“Stories?”

“Among slave hunters there's an old warning: ‘Meet a red-eyed elf, and three generations of your family will perish.’”

“An oral warning? But no written record? Can such a thing happen?”

“Of course.”

Ashley considered how much she could say with confidence.

“An elf might change her appearance while traveling in human lands. Or, if her identity were recorded, she might destroy the records afterward. It's possible that some organization connected to elves makes sure such accounts disappear.”

Theorad was silent.

“Then the absence of records means—”

“Perhaps that such elves are exceptionally rare.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“A privileged few, or perhaps a mutation of some kind. If red-eyed elves were common, I can't imagine every trace of them could be erased.”

Cold sweat gathered on Theorad's forehead.

He had known his household slave was powerful.

But perhaps the danger surrounding her was far greater than he had imagined.

“Then was her capture planned from the beginning?”

“That's what I suspect. More precisely, she may have allowed herself to be caught, then arranged to be sold specifically to you. The slave trader may have been threatened into cooperating.”

“Now that you mention it…”

Theorad recalled the trader who had sold him the elf.

Immediately afterward, the man had hurriedly disposed of his remaining slaves and fled toward the principality.

That was peculiar behavior for someone who had just completed a profitable transaction.

Was he frightened?

Ashley watched Theorad's face.

“For now, that's what I've managed to find. There is one more thing I'd like to mention, but…”

She stopped.

His hands were resting on the tabletop.

They were trembling.

I shouldn't tell him more just now.

He was already under terrible strain. Another alarming theory might send him into a panic.

Ashley silently reached into her purse.

She had brought something for him.

“Ta-da!”

She held up a little vial.

A blue liquid moved inside the glass.

Theorad looked up.

“What is that?”

“A nutritional supplement. It's full of things that are supposed to be good for you. It was rather expensive, but I bought it because you've looked so tired.”

“Ashley…”

His expression filled with such gratitude that she almost felt shy.

“It's nothing,” she said, pressing the bottle into his hand. “You're supposed to take it before meals. Apparently it works better that way.”

“May I take it now?”

“I'd be happy if you did.”

Theorad uncorked the vial and drank its contents.

He winced.

“The taste leaves something to be desired.”

“Medicine is often bitter when it does you good,” Ashley said. “I'll be back in a moment. I need to use the restroom.”

He nodded.

Ashley rose and walked away.

After relieving herself, she opened her purse out of habit.

And froze.

Huh?

There was another medicine vial inside.

It too contained blue liquid.

But the stopper was light gray.

That's…

The light-gray stopper belonged to the nutritional supplement.

Why was it still in her purse?

Her mind raced back to an earlier encounter with Dremes.

The witch had come to do business with Maldon and had pressed a free bottle into Ashley's hand, despite her reluctance to accept it.

Dremes had called it a drug that amplified a person's evil tendencies.

Ashley had put it away and forgotten about it.

Now she had given Theorad the wrong vial.

Oh no!

She'd come to comfort him.

Instead, she might have made him even more miserable.

The drug must have taken effect by now. What if he was already taking out his anger on the restaurant staff?

She hurried out of the restroom.

And there, at the other end of the dining room, was Theorad.

He was speaking sternly to a waitress.

I have to stop this!

Ashley started toward them.

If he made a scene long enough, someone might notice that the rude customer was actually Viscount Deharem, even with his enchanted headband.

The resulting rumors would be disastrous.

But as Ashley approached, she heard what he was saying.

“Look at the food you've brought me.”

A dish of steaming macaroni sat on the table.

There was a strand of hair tangled in its sauce.

“Can you see that hair?”

“Ah…!”

The waitress leaned closer and went pale.

“I'm terribly sorry, sir!”

“The last time I came here with a knight, the same thing happened. And now it has happened again.”

His voice was unusually sharp.

“Anyone working in a kitchen ought to wear a proper covering over their hair. I know it's hot in there, but cleanliness is part of a cook's duty.”

“I'm very sorry. How can we compensate you?”

“Compensate me? Do you think I called you over to demand money?”

The waitress hesitated.

“Listen carefully. If I find a hair in my meal here again, I shall call the cook an idiot. Do you understand?”

“…Pardon?”

She looked genuinely confused.

“Are you hard of hearing? I said idiot. It's a humiliating thing to call someone who works hard at their trade, isn't it?”

“Well… yes, sir.”

“Then tell the cook. If it happens again, I'll call him an idiot.”

The waitress remained bent in apology.

Was that really the extent of his complaint?

She looked at his face for some other demand.

Theorad merely waved her away.

“That's all. You may go.”

“I… really may?”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The waitress bowed and hurried back toward the kitchen.

Ashley stood still, clutching her purse.

Um…

There was no reason to think Dremes had supplied a counterfeit medicine. The witch made her living from customers' trust.

If that vial truly amplified evil tendencies, its effect ought to be working.

Yet what had she just witnessed?

Theorad had been harsher than usual, certainly.

But he'd found a real fault with his food.

If anything, it was strange that he'd tolerated the same problem without complaint on his previous visit.

And his most terrible threat had been to call someone an idiot.

Is this what Theorad looks like when his wickedness is amplified?

He was barely different from his usual self.

He's still just… a good man.