Damn Reincarnation

Bollanyo Village, on the border of the Kiehl Empire.

Ariartelle’s house was located in this quiet countryside village. Of course, none of her neighbors living in Bollanyo knew that Ariartelle was a dragon. As far as the villagers were aware, Ariartelle was a noble who had fallen into poverty and was forced to move to the countryside, and they had no interest in looking any further beyond that fact.

Usually, country people could be overly curious about such neighbors, especially when it came to young people who were living on their own without any family members, but that wasn’t the case for Ariartelle. And it was all thanks to her magic.

Ariartelle naturally had no interest in socializing with her human neighbors, so she had long ago placed a perception-obstructing spell on herself and her mansion, and thanks to that, her mansion was usually a very quiet and peaceful place.

For Eugene and his party, who had been traveling around for nearly a whole month, there was no better place for them to get some comfortable rest. In the past, they had spent some time in Molon’s cave in Leheinjar, but since the Nur were no longer being generated there, there was no reason for them to continue staying up in those mountains.

Ariartelle silently stood in the middle of her living room.

This was a space where Ariartelle could usually indulge in her hobbies, a room lit with warm lights and Ariartelle’s favorite scent perpetually lingering in the air. It was a place where she could occasionally relax and enjoy reading a book with a cup of tea or coffee… and it was also here where she usually spied on the daily life of Leo Dragonic, who had grown into adulthood.

But that was now a story that belonged to the past. After inviting such terrible and obnoxious guests into her mansion, Ariartelle’s beloved living room — no — the entire mansion that she was living in had been thoroughly ravaged. The only place left in this mansion that could still be described as belonging solely to Ariartelle was her bedroom.

Ariartelle silently swallowed back the sadness that was welling up inside her.

Instead of giving in to her urge to grab something and break it or throw it at someone, she just clenched her fists tightly.

If she allowed herself to cry tears of sadness, it would be unbecoming of her identity as a dragon, and she didn’t have the confidence that she would be able to handle the consequences of suddenly grabbing something and smashing it or throwing it onto the floor. Because of that, the wise dragon just let out a long sigh and shook her head.

The living room was a right mess.

A blonde woman with disheveled hair was sprawled over Ariartelle’s favorite sofa. A muscular giant with a bushy beard was snoring away on top of her favorite rug. A wizard was sound asleep, a bottle of wine cradled in her lap, in the armchair where Ariartelle usually relaxed with a cup of coffee and a good book. Squeezed between the sofa and the armchair was the man who could be called the root of all this evil.

Just when had things started to go so wrong?

While using her magic to clean up the empty bottles of alcohol and leftover snacks that littered the living room, Ariartelle was overcome with feelings of regret.

A month ago, the war against the Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction had ended.

Ariartelle hadn’t personally participated in that war. Since the battle was for the sake of the world, she had truly wanted to devote herself to the cause… but she couldn’t afford to do so. A dragon could never break their sworn oaths, and Ariartelle had made a promise to guard the Cradle.

After all, what if the worst were to happen? What if the Demon Kings had won? In that case, Ariartelle’s duty would be to prevent the legacy of the dragons she was charged with protecting from falling into the hands of the Demon Kings.

Though such a promise had only been made because the dragons had been ignorant of the true goals of the Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction….

If the dragons had known that the two Demon Kings’ goal was not to reign over the world but to destroy it completely, they would have never placed Ariartelle under such an oath. Ariartelle would also have been able to throw herself onto the battlefield and fight for the grand cause of protecting the world.

In other words, this meant that Ariartelle hadn’t just been hiding away because she was afraid of taking part in the war.

However, this monster of a home invader, who was curled up on the floor in such a wretched position, had shown no consideration for Ariartelle’s circumstances.

—No matter what, you still weren’t there to help.

Ariartelle was the one who had gone looking for them in the first place.

She had heard that the Demon Kings had been defeated. Now, there were no longer any Demon Kings left to threaten their world. There were still countless demonfolk remaining in Helmuth, but their race’s innate ferocity was being restrained by the chain held by the Hero.

It was a complete victory — an achievement worthy of celebration.

As the representative of the dragons, Ariartelle had gone looking for Eugene and his comrades. The Hero’s party had disappeared following the end of the war and had been wandering across the continent, but it wasn’t that hard for Ariartelle to find them. All she needed to do was to find her fellow dragon, who happened to be accompanying them.

But once she had found them, Ariartielle was subjected to all sorts of jibes regarding her absence from the war and was forced to open up her home to them.

“I really shouldn’t have gone looking for them…,” Ariartelle sighed deeply as she continued cleaning up the room.

The rows of empty bottles she had lined up on one side of the room were already numbering in dozens. All those bottles had once been a part of Ariartelle’s cherished wine collection, but they had all been emptied in a single night.

But now that things had come to this point, what was the use of regret? Just as she finished cleaning, and was about to throw blankets over the bodies of the four wastrels who had fallen asleep without even a coat to cover themselves—

“Ahem….”

Ariartelle heard a cough coming from behind her. Startled, her back snapped up straight. A quickly cast spell covered Ariartelle’s face with a thin layer of makeup. With a moment to prepare herself, none of the despair shadowing her face until just now could be seen on Ariartelle’s face.

“Have you woken up?” Ariartelle said with a smile as she gracefully turned around.

A cleanly-dressed Vermouth was standing at the entrance to the living room. Unlike the four wastrels sprawling around this room, Vermouth had gone to bed in his room. This was thanks to the fact that he had managed to escape from the drinking contest that had been held in this living room last night, a true ordeal that had managed to knock out everyone other than himself.

“My apologies,” Vermouth said, bowing his head.

Seeing that not a single contestant had managed to leave the living room, Vermouth thought it was fortunate he had managed to escape to his room in the early hours of the morning.

“Not at all, oh Great Vermouth. There is no need for you to apologize,” Ariartelle said as she silently shrieked to herself, ‘Aaaaah, it’s the Great Vermouth!’

Ariartelle’s eyes were filled with a sweet look of adoration. Ever since she was a hatchling, she had repeatedly read the fairy tales about the Hero, and like most people, she had been fascinated by the figure of the Great Vermouth.

As for the Stupid Hamel, the Wise Sienna, the Brave Molon, and the Faithful Anise, having actually met them… they had, more or less, managed to shatter all of the illusions that Ariartelle had ever held about them, but the Great Vermouth was different. Here was a man who seemed to be an exact replica of the image that Ariartelle had imagined when she was reading the fairy tale.

“Please don’t say that, Ariartelle. We should be grateful that you even lent your mansion to us, but to think that they would make such a mess after using it for just a few days…,” Vermouth sighed.

Ariartelle shook her head, “By now, even I am fully aware that they simply refuse to listen to your advice.”

That was indeed the truth. Vermouth had repeatedly suggested that it would be better for them to refrain from drinking and carousing so vigorously, but his companions refused to listen to his advice. Instead, they enjoyed pinning Vermouth down by his limbs and pouring wine into his mouth even as he tried to stop them from doing so.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to wake them up just yet… so how about it, oh Great Vermouth? Shall we go get some air outside… together?” Ariartelle mustered up her courage to whisper.

If Ariartelle could have her heart’s desire, she would like to listen to Vermouth talk about all of the legends that he had left behind while drinking some fragrant black tea in front of the flowerbed out in the gardens, but… these devils might wake up at any moment and stagger out into the garden while scratching their stomach. If she didn’t want her private time with Vermouth interrupted like that, it would be better for Ariartelle to just leave the mansion with him altogether.

Vermouth smiled awkwardly, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid we need to make some preparations today….”

Ariartelle was very clearly exuding an air of admiration for Vermouth. Although he was grateful for her attention, Vermouth also felt the situation extremely burdensome….

The reason for his awkwardness was that Ariartelle was a dragon — a dragon who had lost her parents to the Demon King of Destruction, at that.

“Preparations…?” Ariartelle repeated. “What kind of preparations do you mean? If there is anything that you might require, I’m sure that I should have already provided them to you.”

“I’m afraid that we’ve already been enjoying your hospitality for a week now,” Vermouth replied with a wry smile. “If we dawdle here any longer, I believe that we’ll only end up completely draining your cherished liquor collection. As such, we intend to depart from your mansion today.”

Upon receiving this response, Ariartelle’s expression was filled with various emotions.

At least, she would finally be able to see the backs of these devils. With that, Ariartelle would be able to return to her beloved daily life. The departure of these devils was highly anticipated and welcomed, but… she felt regret that this would mean the Great Vermouth was leaving as well.

“Aaaah…. So that’s the case, oh Great Vermouth. Will you be returning to the Lionhearts?” Ariartelle asked.

“Yes,” Vermouth nodded.

“How disappointing…. There are so many things that I still wanted to talk to you about. If only these noisy troublemakers could have kept their voices down for just a bit, I could have spoken to you for that much longer,” Ariartelle complained.

Vermouth comforted her, “It’s not like this is our eternal farewell. Whenever you wish, I can come over to serve as your conversational partner.”

As he said these words to her with a gentle smile, Airatelle suddenly felt a stabbing sensation in her chest.

What on earth was this feeling? Ariartelle had some difficulty defining exactly what she was feeling at this very moment, but there was one thing she knew that she desperately desired the moment that she heard those words.

Ariartelle stammered, “D-do you promise?”

“A promise…?” Vermouth repeated with a frown.

“I-I am a dragon,” Ariartelle stated the obvious. “As you should already be aware, oh Great Vermouth, we dragons place great importance on promises.”

“Ah… yes, I was aware of that,” Vermouth said with a nod.

Vermouth felt uncomfortable around words like ‘promise’ or ‘oath.’ If possible, he never wanted to make another promise for the rest of his life.

However, the person requesting that promise was a dragon who had lost her parents to the Demon King of Destruction. When faced with someone like that, Vermouth felt compelled to swear such a promise even though he really didn’t want to.

“Ariartelle, this promise I make with you will be the last promise I ever make in my life,” Vermouth said with a bright smile.

At these words, Ariartelle was sent reeling, feeling as if her head, chest, and soul had all simultaneously been struck with a hammer.

‘The last promise that I ever make,’ Ariartelle repeated in her mind.

Contrary to what Vermouth had actually intended when he said these words, the implications shook both Ariartelle’s mind and body. His last-ever promise! Could those words mean—?

Ariartelle was gasping for breath. Before she could say anything, Eugene came to his senses with a groan, “Oooooh my head….”

Straightening up from his awkward position between the sofa and the armchair, Eugene twisted his stiff neck and waist from side to side as he stretched.

With bleary eyes, Eugene turned towards Ariartelle and Vermouth before questioning them with a frown, “What the…? What are you two doing?”

Why did Ariartelle look like she was about to collapse?

Vermouth was also curious about the answer to that question. However, seeing how Eugene still seemed to be half-drunk and was clutching at his forehead, Vermouth couldn’t afford to pay any more attention to Ariartelle.

“We’re already running late,” Vermouth reminded Eugene. “We decided that we’d be leaving for home today. Did you actually forget?”

“No…,” Eugene said with another groan. “I didn’t forget.”

After shaking his throbbing head a few times, Eugene’s empty and rumbling stomach settled down, his headache disappeared, and his head cleared up.

While chewing at his bottom lip, Eugene muttered, “I didn’t forget, but now that it’s really time to head back home, I’m having second thoughts….”

“Your father is also waiting for us at the Lionheart estate,” Vermouth reminded him.

“That might be the case, but my father knows all too well just what kind of person I am. I don’t think he’d be too upset even if I took another year before heading back…,” Eugene muttered.

Eugene believed without a doubt that he was truly a filial son. So what if he spent more time wandering outside than he did at home? That was something that couldn’t be helped as he was working towards the great cause of saving the world. Since he, as a son, was doing something so important, how could his only true blood relative, his father, not understand the need for that?

So what if he hadn’t properly kept Gerhard informed of his whereabouts, let alone kept in contact, while he was wandering around outside? That was also something that couldn’t be helped. He was sure that his father probably wasn’t too worried by such behavior either. Ever since he was a snot-nosed brat living in a small country village, Eugene had enthusiastically proven to his father that he wasn’t the type of person to get beaten up the moment he went out by himself.

“However, father-in-law does always cry a lot whenever you return,” Sienna said, sabotaging Eugene's arguments as she shot him a glance. She had also woken up and was fixing her messy hair using magic.

‘Father-in-law…,’ Eugene thought as he gulped involuntarily.

He felt like his soul was suddenly being pressured by the power and weight behind those words, but he had already realized that, at this point, it was too late to make a fuss about Sienna’s behavior or try to change it.

“Since I was a child, my father has always been prone to shedding an excessive amount of tears,” Eugene defended himself.

Sienna frowned and said, “I don’t quite believe that’s the main reason for his reactions….’

“His age might also be playing a part in it. Men tend to get a lot more weepy as they grow older. Just take a look at Molon over here; this bastard also bursts into tears at the drop of a hat,” Eugene argued as he kicked Molon, who was still lying on the ground.

“When all of your comrades and friends die before you, leaving you all alone, and you’re stuck guarding a mountain valley for hundreds of years, continuously hunting monsters, anyone would have a lot to cry about,” Molon said as he lifted his head slightly.

At these words, everyone couldn’t help but fall silent. Vermouth, in particular, was so affected by the silent pressure that his whole body began to tremble.

“I… I’m sorry,” Vermouth struggled to apologize.

Just as the silence had stretched on long enough that Vermouth was about to kneel down on the spot, Molon pushed himself off the ground.

“What are you apologizing for? Vermouth, there’s no need for any further apologies between us. Back then, the only person you could rely on was me, and it was something that had to be done by someone, wasn’t it? I never once resented you for asking me to do it,” Molon said with a chuckle as he patted Vermouth on the shoulder.

Extremely moved by these words, Vermouth stared at Molon with tears in his eyes.

But all signs of his overflowing emotions disappeared from Vermouth’s face when Molon suddenly asked, “By the way, Hamel, when are we going to be beating up Vermouth?”

“Hm, that’s right. When would be a good time to beat him up?” Eugene considered thoughtfully.

Everyone had already agreed without any hesitation that they owed Vermouth a good beating. Vermouth’s opinion regarding this matter wasn’t of any importance.

However, in the month leading up to this day, Eugene and his comrades had yet to deliver Vermouth his beating. Instead, they had just wandered around the continent together, drinking, chatting, sleeping, and spending their days as leisurely as possible.

“In my opinion, there’s no point in beating him up in a place like this. Don’t you all agree?” Anise asked rhetorically. “We haven’t given Sir Vermouth his beating until now because it wasn’t the best time, right? I’m not sure what you all might think about it, but I want to give Sir Vermouth his beating in front of the public. In front of a huge, huge amount of people. What do you think?”

Vermouth shuddered at the thought, “But why…?”

Anise frowned, “Sir Vermouth, are you really asking that because you don’t know the answer? If we beat you up when it’s just us, doesn’t that mean that your beating will be kept a secret? That way, no one in the world would know that we have beaten you up, Sir Vermouth.”

“But… what’s the problem with that?” Vermouth plaintively asked, his expression showing that he really didn’t know the answer to his question.

Anise pounded her chest in frustration before saying, “Sir Vermouth, if we beat you up in front of a lot of people, all of those people would become witnesses to that historic moment. That way, they would all know of the guilt of the Great Vermouth and how much of a huge mistake he had made in the past! They would know just how much trouble we’ve gone through because of you!”

Eugene shook his head, “No way, Vermouth, did you really think that we would allow history to merely record you as a Hero who returned from the dead, a legend returned to life, of how you made such a noble sacrifice…? That is all we would want them to know?”

“There’s no way we can allow that,” Sienna said with a snort. “Ah, but of course, we won’t tell them about the specific wrong you did. We’ll just beat you up in front of them, and those who witness it will have to come up with a lot of their own guesses as to why you were beaten up. We’ll be perfectly satisfied with that.”

Anise, Eugene, and Sienna boxed Vermouth into a corner with their perfect teamwork.

Vermouth couldn’t even say anything in protest to this. He also couldn’t ask Molon for help. Molon was stroking his beard, wondering whether he should punch Vermouth with his fist, kick him with his feet, or even beat him with his axe.

Vermouth gulped and asked, “You’re not actually planning on killing me, are you?”

Eugene burst into laughter at Vermouth’s carefully voiced question, “We went through all that trouble to save you, so why would we kill you now?”

Would it have been better for him if he had just died back then?

Vermouth considered this thought for a few moments.

Openbookworm & DantheMan's Thoughts

OBW: I’m amused by the fact that Anise still respectfully addresses Vermouth as Sir Vermouth, even when she’s condemning him to a public beating.

Momo: I think Vermouth didn’t realize he signed up for his eleventh wife, and too a dragon.

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