I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game-Chapter 105

It has already been three days since the storm that was Sion passed.

Security around the royal palace has been doubled, and my room, along with Lir's and Alter's, has been reassigned to another location within the castle.

‘The previous room was nice, it was close to the main gate.’

My new room is located in the center of the castle, on the 6th floor. It's a long way from the main gate.

It’s so far, in fact, that I seriously considered suggesting they make a carriage for getting around inside the castle.

...Coming back from an expedition will certainly be a bit of a hassle.

"By the way, who was she? Really."

"Just a peddler, I suppose."

I absentmindedly fidgeted with my right hand, which had lost its feeling, as I answered Lir’s question. According to the doctor, I need to keep massaging the muscles and help with blood circulation like this.

"...I don’t think a normal peddler could just waltz into the royal palace like that. She even found your room, General Bin, in this massive castle."

"She’s a skilled peddler, I guess."

Over the past three days, I’ve racked my brain, trying to uncover the identity of this woman named Sion.

But no matter how much I searched my memory, there was no one who could be connected to someone named Sion.

Sion had entered the royal palace as if it were her own home. Not only that, but she also seemed to have acquired information about the key figures in the castle.

Among those key figures were General Grisha and Bell.

As soon as Sion left the castle, I went straight to Grisha. I asked if she had felt like she was being watched or followed over the past few days.

She was puzzled and answered that she hadn’t noticed anything like that.

Grisha was a battle-hardened veteran, one of the most powerful generals on the continent. Even though she wasn't known for detecting stealthy movements as a ‘cleric’ class, there’s no way she wouldn’t have noticed if someone had been spying on her.

When I explained to Grisha about Sion and what she knew, Grisha was shocked to realize she had been under surveillance.

‘...It means she’s on the level of a general, even if not quite there yet.’

In this world, there are very few individuals who possess the skill level of a ‘general’ without being part of the military.

The two people who fit that description are:

The mafia boss, Malice.

And the dragon slayer from the Eastern mountains, Don Arteza.

Both of them are middle-aged men, over fifty years old. They’re the complete opposite of Sion in both appearance and personality.

‘...Is she a character who wasn’t implemented in the game?’

This world consists of roughly 1.2 billion people, including orcs, elves, dwarfs, and humans. It was, of course, impossible to implement every single person into the game.

‘Thinking about it logically... it wouldn’t be so strange after all.’

The central theme of the game I used to play was, no matter what anyone says, ‘The War between the Continentals and the Demon Lords.’ The game itself revolved around generals and great lords, and the ‘underworld’ was only briefly mentioned in side quests, never properly explored.

‘Logically speaking, what could an assassin gain from becoming famous?’

Unless you’re someone like ‘Delta,’ who was inspired by a Sword Saint, cleaned up the underworld, became a general, and is still grinding away in the north, most assassins, whose main job is assassination, would consider ‘fame’ a sign that their skill is mediocre.

Even the mafia boss, Malice, became famous after starting his organization. When he was working as an assassin in his youth, no one knew his name.

‘...It would be nice to have someone with expertise in this field around.’

I never thought I’d regret not having a friend who’s a big-time criminal.

"Ah."

No, wait.

I do know some big-time criminals.

A cold breeze cuts through the brick walls, brushing against my neck. The dirty, damp air spreads throughout the entire building. If I turn my head, I feel like I’ll see the rats that had been following me scurrying into the shadows.

The medieval dungeon is much worse than I had imagined. Comparing it to the royal palace where I live, it's like the difference between heaven and hell.

"This is it!"

The prison guard, who was guiding me, spoke in a military tone and walked with sharp, precise steps. There was a light sheen of sweat on the back of his neck.

It wasn’t surprising that he reacted this way—after all, a general had barged in unexpectedly.

Creeeak—!

The rusty iron door creaked open with a loud screech, as if it were symbolizing the state of the old dungeon facilities. Inside, a family sat, looking like beggars who hadn’t bathed for ages.

"..."

The only one who seemed to be close to my age was a little girl, who glared at me with eyes full of venom.

The man sitting next to her quickly pulled her into an embrace and whispered in a low voice, "Stay still if you don’t want to die."

I sat in the iron chair in the center of the visitation room, leaning back. The chair creaked loudly as if it was at the end of its life.

“How should I address you? You’re not a Count anymore, are you?”

"Gwyner. Just call me Gwyner."

Gwyner, the head of the once-powerful Gwyner family who had held enormous influence in the capital just two or three months ago, replied.

"Alright. Gwyner, the reason I’m here today isn’t because I have any ill feelings toward you or your family, nor is it because I want to mock you. I’m not here to further interrogate you about all the crimes you've committed either..."

Before I could finish my sentence, I heard the sound of teeth grinding together. The one making that unpleasant noise was none other than the one who had caused Gwyner’s fall—his daughter.

She seemed to think that we were here in this filthy dungeon because of me. So, naturally, she glared at me with resentment in her eyes. Her father quickly grabbed her by the back of the head and slammed her face into the desk.

Thud!

Her head hit the rusty metal desk, and her father immediately chastised her, bowing his head and apologizing in a polite manner.

"I deeply apologize for my daughter’s rudeness. It’s all my fault for raising her poorly."

The head of the Gwyner family, with a thick beard, looked like a decent man, despite his actions. His eyes were filled with guilt, as though he regretted the past.

Like all these kinds of people, his acting was decent enough.

If it weren’t for his daughter, who was lying with her face pressed to the desk and bleeding from her nose, I would have almost believed he was genuinely remorseful.

"I apologize...!"

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

As the head of the family and his wife, son, and relatives all bowed their heads in unison, it was impossible to describe the pitiful sight with words.

"The Gwyner family deeply regrets the disrespect shown to you, General. So..."

"Let’s cut to the chase. I don’t want to stay here any longer. It’s too damp, I don’t plan on being here for long."

I interrupted the farce in front of me with a cold tone.

These were the same people who tried to exploit the blind, attempted to cut off their son’s legs, and caused this dirty fall for the Gwyner family.

It’s too soon for them to change their ways in just two or three months.

They need to spend at least five hundred years in a place like this.

"Red eyes, jet-black hair like graphite, a large cloak, and she appeared about sixteen years old. She introduced herself as ‘Sion.’ Her personality was purely mercantile, and her skill level... well, if I’m being generous, she’s at a general’s level."

"..."

The head of the Gwyner family slowly raised his head and cautiously met my eyes.

"Do you recognize her?"

"...If it’s Sion, she’s someone we’ve hired a few times."

"Tell me everything you know."

At my firm tone, the head of the Gwyner family bit his lip and thought for a moment.

"Would it be okay if our family proposed a deal to General Bin...?"

After a brief period of hesitation, he cautiously asked.

...Unbelievable.

"Manifest."

I focused on the discomfort in my chest and summoned a small, red crystal from my shoulder. The members of the Gwyner family stared at the device with curious eyes.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

The crystal emitted a sharp, mechanical sound as it extended, and the tip of the crystal shone with a dark red light, brushing past the head of the Gwyner family and creating a large hole in the wall behind him.

It seemed like it was passing through where the plumbing was located. Water spilled from a broken old pipe, and the stone bricks dividing the cells began to crumble. The red light continued, smashing through several walls, likely even reaching the outer wall of the prison.

"The Queen tried to have you all burned at the stake. I opposed that."

The Gwyner family members shuddered at the sight of the gaping holes in the walls. They trembled with fear, their lips turning pale as they bit down.

"I didn’t spare your lives because I thought you were useful. I simply wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone that day."

I tapped the rusty iron desk with my left hand and glared at the fools in front of me.

"You shouldn’t forget that you’re alive simply because of my whim."

Just then, I heard the sound of guards running down the hallway outside the visitation room. With the sudden hole in the dungeon walls, they had more work to do.

"Are you okay?!"

A guard, his face pale, opened the door and rushed in.

"Put the bill on my desk. It’s nothing serious, so return to your post."

"...Oh, yes."

"I believe there are no prisoners on this floor except for Count Gwyner. Don’t be too surprised."

"Are you okay...?"

"I told you to return to your post."

I shoved the red crystal back into my chest and turned to glare at the guard.

The soldier swallowed hard and hastily closed the door, retreating.

The head of the Gwyner /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ family swallowed dryly. His young daughter, who had been glaring at me with anger, now had a face filled with cold fear, and the rest of the family couldn’t hide their alarm.

"It seems like there are no newspapers here? You don’t know where I’ve been, do you?"

I continued coldly, as the temperature in the room rose with the red light.

"I’ve been to the battlefield."

After returning from Ballerrand, moments like this have been happening occasionally.

When I’m in places as hot and humid as that, my irritation multiplies, and I end up speaking more harshly than usual.

"It was a place where tens of thousands died before my eyes. My comrades were severely injured, and I lost one of my hands."

This decaying, rundown dungeon felt just like that place.

It was cramped, humid, hot, and sticky.

Just like everyone else there, Ballerrand remains a horrific memory for me.

"...Don’t think I’ll have the same patience as I did two months ago."

And terrible memories have a way of changing a person.

The garbage in front of me no longer looks like humans.

When the trial starts again, I’ll wholeheartedly support their execution.

"Don’t test my patience. I’m already in a bad mood."

"...I’m sorry."

The head of the Gwyner family had nothing he could do but bow his head. His foolish daughter, perhaps realizing her place, softly repeated her apology.

"So, who is Sion?"

I lightly tapped my finger on the iron desk, trying to break the heavy silence in the room.

...Of course, the humans in front of me were as stiff as statues, finding it hard to even breathe comfortably.

It’ll take some time before they can muster the courage to speak again.