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A Weakling Who Died a Million Times - Chapter 8.1
🕑 Added 2024-11-24 09:17:02 +0000 UTCYear 141_Keireki Era_Spring/08
Yo.
So, I'm struggling to come up with a reason for saving her.
“If I had to say, maybe I just couldn't stand to see a beautiful person being treated so roughly. Does that work as a reason?”
My inner tone is the same as always, but outwardly, I adjust it to match my appearance. A bit of flattery, you could say.
Because, well, a kid with an old man’s way of talking isn’t exactly endearing.
”You too… um…”
Looks like she wants to say, ”Are you a bandit, too?”
But she holds back, perhaps out of gratitude to the one who saved her life.
In that case, I suppose I should clarify my position. It's not like I take pride in being a bandit just because I ended up as one.
”You can’t choose where you’re born, but at least you can choose what to do after that.”
She seems ashamed for almost labeling me, but then a voice interrupts.
”Iserina! Are you alright? … Wait, there's another bandit here!”
The man shields her, pointing a massive greatsword at me. Seriously, what kind of strength does it take to wield something like that with one hand?
No wonder the gang leader and his cronies got wiped out.
”Please wait, Gadvar! He saved me!”
”A bandit saved you...? No, I see now. Sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
”Well, I’m still a bandit, I don’t mind.”
Gadvar—apparently his name—looked puzzled by the slightly mismatched conversation, but nonetheless reported to her that all the other bandits have been dealt with.
Ah, yeah. When they start to say something like, ”Even though you're a bandit,” it’s a reminder of how much trouble bandits cause in this world.
So, they’re right to doubt me. If I were in their shoes, I'd also think, ”A bandit saving someone? Later, he'll probably say, ‘Sorry, but I need to eat too,’ and betray us.”
Honestly, I want to applaud their good-heartedness for not suspecting me more and even apologizing.
”For now, let's regroup with the others… What about the boy?”
The boy—meaning me. Gadvar, who looked like he was in his late twenties, is probably right to call a kid in his early teens a ”boy.” Fair enough.
”I’d like him to come along. I owe him, after all.”
Iserina, the blonde, extended the invitation, while I pondered my options.
”Okay.”
Might as well accept their gratitude and goodwill. No point sticking around here.
Gadvar’s group consisted of a monk-like girl, a scout-type person, and Gadvar himself as the frontliner with the giant sword. I confirmed as much before being taken.
It’s not exactly a team built for bodyguard work, but either their skill makes up for it, or Iserina just trusts them a lot.
Since the horses were killed during the kidnapping, we were traveling on foot. From here, it should take about half a day to reach the city.
”Um, you…”
The monk-like girl addressed me. She seems to be around my age—or at least, older than my current body, anyway.
Her words trailed off. Guess she doesn’t know what to call me. ”Bandit boy” isn’t exactly a polite option, huh?
Times like this make me wish I had an easy title or role to fall back on. With Gadvar, they can just call him ”Warrior” or something.
”Oh, right. I didn’t give my name.”
A name, huh? Always a hassle. Might as well make up a fake one again.
The last name I used was for an adventurer’s registration, right?
Even if it overlaps, it doesn’t really matter, but… Let’s change it up a bit for the mood.
What’s around here? I glance around and spot a broken, weathered sign.
It’s hard to read, but something like ”Vil-something” is written on it.
Good enough. I’ll borrow that.
”Vilgram.”
That’s my name now.
”That’s quite the noble-sounding name!”
Gadvar teased.
”Well, even a bandit can dream big, right? My looks may scream bandit, but my heart’s royalty.”
Realizing the name does sound a bit grandiose, I bluffed my way through. You get good at excuses when you’ve spent your life as a bandit.
Gadvar lets out a hearty laugh and slaps me on the back. ”I like it!”
”Umm, Vilgram?”
The monk girl again.
During the fight, I only noticed her unarmed combat style, but now I see her soft, light blue hair and large, round eyes—she’s quite charming.
It’s no wonder the bandits targeted her.
Still, for someone like her to go unarmed despite being a clear target for bandits—maybe she’s bait in some clever tactic where the others handle the actual fighting? … No, that’s overthinking it.
I need to focus. She called my name, and ignoring her wouldn’t be right.
”You can call me Vi. That’s what I’ve been called.”
Not that anyone’s actually called me that before—I just decided on the name moments ago—but shorter is easier.
”Oh, okay. Vi. Can I make a small request?”
She looked a little flustered, maybe even hesitant. Did I come off too familiar by suggesting a nickname right away? Interacting with non-bandits sure is tricky.
”Sure. What is it?”
”Well… sorry about this, but…”
She looked apologetic.
”We’re heading into the city, so I think you should clean up a bit first.”
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