Mockery of Once Innocent Delusions

[Unknown]

[Dream]

Slap.

A stick slammed down with such incredible force that if it had hit something, it might have broken to its sheer strength.

Slap.

The stick dropped down again. What was the stick hitting? Was it an inanimate object? A misbehaving pet, perhaps?

Slap.

No. It was a child's hand. The reddened palm of an 11-year-old. My hands. I remember that very day. Each slap sent a shockwave throughout my body, and each strike was harder than the last.

Slap.

I was on the brink of crying. But I held it in. If I were to cry now, then this constant, almost drum-like performance wouldn't stop.

Slap.

Why was I getting slapped, you may wonder? I had an 89/100 on a test, which was something so undesirable in my father's eyes that he punished me for it.

His exact words were, "I did not raise you like this. 90 is manageable but low, 95 is acceptable, and 100 is ideal, but going anywhere lower than 90 is an insult. You, my child, are failing me."

My father was the one responsible for teaching me out of school. He would continue lecturing me after school until midnight.

"But father, I had the highest score in class. I—"

Slap.

"I did not permit you to speak."

My eyes were on the verge of crying. But I didn't, I couldn't, I shouldn't. Crying was a weakness in front of my father, and he didn't let it slide and would punish me for even shedding a tear.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

The palms of my hand were now beginning to numb. My tears were nearly there, but I kept them in. I kept it in.

"I have more important things to do than teach a failed child. Hah. I do wonder where I have failed you. I have done everything to make you better, yet this is how you repay me. Disappointing."

My father grew up in a privileged household. He was the heir to a well-established company. People regarded him as a genius, a messiah of some sorts. They praised, put him on a pedestal, and saw him as the person who saved a dying rotting company to become a powerhouse.

I was only in the shadows of my father, and there was no need for me to take over that same company. He was determined to mold me into his image. He wants me to be him. A copy of himself.

"If you fail now, what will they think of me? Can you imagine how much they rely on me? How can you do this to your father? The father that raised you, the father that fed you, the father that made you."

He shook his head as if he were seeing the most disgusting object he had ever seen.

"Do not do this to me, my child."

"I understand, father."

"As you should."

I hate him.

From the very bottom of my heart, I detest my father. I repeat these words to myself daily. My life had come to embody my hatred of him. When he died, I had no purpose. I only worked and ate for the sake of seeing the next day—a tiresome repetition.

But this time, I will live a life of my volition. He's not here and can never be here. He doesn't exist and can't exist.

If living the life of a shitty noble is what I have to work with, then I will have to be more vicious in surviving this world. If I could survive in the hands of my father, then this would be just another playground.

It's not like I have any other choice, do I?

. . .

●●●

[Unknown—Deilos, Son of the Demon Lord Dantalion, Young Lord]

[Demon Territory, Village]

The water was cold.

I was washing my body in a river by the side of the village. The blood that stuck on my body was being washed by the flowing water, making small whirlpools of red grime. My legs could move now ever since Seekth made me drink healing potions till I vomited them out.

Although I can walk, my steps are still wobbly and required Seekth to shoulder me before I can even take a step forward. It felt as if my legs were some gelatin.

"..."

My surroundings were quiet, and the only thing I could hear was the flow of the water's current.

It's peaceful. That was what came to mind as I walked around the village. While the people here are dirty, they're unusually friendly. My first impressions of this village were hostile, but eventually, their gazes seemed to soften when I interacted with them.

— Are you okay, young man? Quite the wounds you have there. Oi, give me something to help out this lad here!

— Is this the human's doing? Is it? Those bastards.

— Here, a fruit, you ought to eat it when it's fresh. The kids here like them. I hope it suits your taste buds.

This sudden change of scenery was quite unsettling for me. After being sentenced to such tortures when I came to this world, this only made me anxious when that same feeling was abruptly removed. In a sense, it bored me.

I removed the cloth stuck on my skin.

"Nasty..."

Just as the last of the gunk on my body ran downward and contaminated the water, a small rustling sound came from the bushes at the bank of the river. It was Seekth that walked through. Parts of his black armor seeped through as branches tugged his cloak.

"What brought you here? I'm currently bathing dullard."

"My apologies."

As stiff as ever.

"Hah... will you cut the formalities? I am rather pestered by your speech rather than being comfortable. As of this moment, you may speak more informally. Look at how you're making me talk. Be more like a normal person. Is that clear?"

"Aha... I suppose, young lord."

Did he get what I'm trying to say? I'm not talking to a brick now, am I? I'll take that as a yes.

"Well? I suppose you didn't come all the way here to see my naked body."

"No, young lord. The coaches said they'd be going in an hour. They're still gathering their cargo as we speak."

I covered my lower half and rose from the river. I picked up the clothes that the villagers gave me. They were rather ragged—the texture of the cloth was rough, comparable to a sack.

"How long will we be riding?"

I asked as I put on the clothes.

"Two days, perhaps. The roads ahead are muddy—it might stretch longer if the rain comes back."

Two days... so I have that much time to recover. Seeing that there are potions and magic, it is possible to recover that quickly. However, even when drenched by potions, my muscles are still tired. My shoulders and sides still ache even with a few days of sleep. Considering those were outside and in a rough bed, it might not be so good.

"Have you bought anything for the trip? Something for us to chew at least?"

"Yes, alongside some herbs to help with stomach aches."

"Stomach aches?"

"The carriages here can ride violently."

Is he talking about motion sickness? Is that common? It may have to do with the nobles using far more comfortable carriages than the common folk. Hmm.

"I do doubt that we'll be using that."

"It is only a precaution, young lord."

What is he? A mother? I'm being treated like a child here.

I put on my shirt and stretched a bit. My bones did a satisfying crack as I bent my body side to side.

"Huff~ now, shall we go?"

"Yes."

The carriages that we were going to ride were the same carriages that Seekth pointed out yesterday—a wooden, horse-drawn carriage. It was filled with boxes of crates and cages with animals on them. Some even had humans, demons, and beast-kin.

Slavery? That's most likely. You don't put people in cages unless they're criminals or being used as slaves. People being sold off to slavery can depend on their circumstances, be it a loan shark taking your daughter because of debt or being kidnapped.

Well, that isn't my problem now, isn't it? Even if we were to try to abolish slavery, it would just come off in one way or another, may it be through the black market or some other similar ways.

"Where do these people take them?"

"The slums."

Judging from his tone, this is common here.

"That is rather disgusting..."

"Does the young lord not have slaves himself?"

Do I? Oh, 'I' have some. Of course 'I' do.

"The quality, I mean."

"I see."

As we were casually talking about the abhorrent lifestyle and well-being of caged people. One coachman approached us. He wore a leather armored outfit with sacks tied to his hip. His eyes were droopy—he glanced at me for a quick second and looked at Seekth.

"You're the one that offered to be an escort yesterday, yeah? I believe that I didn't see this young man with you."

Seekth opened his mouth.

"He is a companion."

"Companion, you say? From what I remember, I only accepted one person to ride with me. My carriage is a little cramped for another one."

"Are you saying that he isn't able to take the ride? You agreed on my terms yesterday."

"The terms we agreed on were with you, not him."

The coachman shrugged.

What's this? I may not have been present when they talked, but the way Seekth reacted meant he wasn't expecting this. By his claims, he's most likely twisting Seekth's words on what they both agreed on.

Seekth continued.

"Backing down from the deal—"

"I am abiding by it," the coachman cut him off. "I did not undermine the deal. In fact, if anyone broke the deal, then it's you who brought someone else."

Seekth's eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

This is getting out of hand. Seekth's frustration was evident, but a fight here would only worsen things. I'd rather take this to a different route.

"Ehem," I interjected. "This might not be my place to interrupt—nonetheless, you're talking to a friend of mine. If we were to be so clear about things, might we want to spell things out?"

The coachman looked at me. His mouth frowned.

"Angh? What are you supposed to be? This is our conversation, kid. Take your nose out of this. Wasn't my intention clear? My carriage is full, and I can't take in both of you."

Let's think about this logically—if I were to dissect everything that's currently happening, there are several ways to interpret this.

If this were a misunderstanding, he wouldn't need to press this far. Especially the way he talks. Seekth's reaction doesn't support his claims either—though this might be biased since I'm on Seekth's side of the argument. Still, I have to ground myself into something I can measure. Lastly, at the sight of me, the coachman likely saw my appearance to resemble someone naive—an easy mark for a quick profit.

So, the answer is money. He wants to scam us.

"Seekth," I whispered. "Is this the only carriage that would go to De Gracia? We can take another one if there is."

"No, this is the only one."

The only one...

This only makes things worse for us. Well, all I can do now is to get along with this bastard's games.

"How much?"

The coachman tilted his head.

"I've already answered you. If you're asking how many people my carriage can take in, then it's one."

"I am asking how much the good sir might take a little leeway for someone like us."

I forced a smile, and the coachman smiled back. He looked at me slyly.

"If it's for you, I might be inclined to drop off some cargo here and there."

"Would the usual fare be enough?"

"A little higher than that, I'm on the losing end here."

I pulled on Seekth's cloak, reached for his coin purse, took a few copper coins, and slipped two small silver coins.

I gave the coachman 10 copper coins.

He counted it and placed it against the sun.

"You might want to take that price higher than that. Come on now, don't be petty."

Seekth's eyebrow twitched.

"To talk like that to the young lord."

He put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"My, my, we shouldn't get physical here. Though I am very generous, I doubt that some of my friends are."

"Seekth, calm down."

Seekth clicked his tongue.

The coachman didn't even flinch when Seekth tried to draw his sword. He might be bluffing, but we don't know whether he has hidden companions nearby—it can't be confirmed unless we fall into his provocations.

Looking around, there are other people looking at us with intent. He's trying to annoy us, which might be a tactic to escalate the situation and justify taking things physically.

The reason? I don't know. He may just be an asshole.

I tossed one small silver coin to the coachman.

"That should be enough, no?"

Practically speaking, we're at a loss here. A nobles' ride costs a few silver coins, while a normal ride costs 3 copper coins at most. This is an overpayment, simple math. For a ride in a carriage, it's a loss—nevertheless, it's the only carriage that can take us to De Gracia. Plus, our safety is at stake.

The coachman smirked.

"You're a negotiable one, young man."

"I do have to warn you that my friend can be quite impatient, it seems, and there might be something sent spiraling down if they're not careful."

"Hah! I'll keep that in mind."

The coachman put the coins in one of his pouches.

"Kid."

He flung back one copper coin.

"You overpaid."

He is an asshole.

"Much more so."

He laughed as he waved his hands towards the carriages. I looked at Seekth. He seemed to have calmed down a bit and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. He didn't speak a word. We followed.

. . .

●●●