“Get lost.”
Sarg swatted away the hulk’s hand that tried to drape an arm over his shoulder. The hulk shrugged as if hurt.
“So prickly. Are you going to be cold between us?”
“What were we ever to each other?”
“We worked at the same place and got kicked out for similar reasons, so I’d say we’re the best of friends.”
The hulk had been kicked out for an affair with a married woman. Actually, it was a problem that could have ended with disciplinary action, but the issue was that the married women the hulk had been involved with exceeded what could be counted on one hand. The hulk was excommunicated and expelled from his family. After drifting here and there, this was where he ended up.
Promiscuous and immoral people were the type Sarg despised most. Sarg said coldly:
“Don’t lump me in with you.”
Sarg decided to avoid the hulk. He turned to pass by the hulk. But the hulk blocked Sarg’s way and sneered:
“Though you’re worse in quality. At least I don’t get them pregnant.”
The hulk just seemed to want to pick a fight. He was one of those people who felt base pleasure in confirming that the Knight of Radiance had become equal to himself. Sarg usually ignored such people.
“I heard she looks like that bitch Hyderlin? I’m curious just how much she looks like her to cause such a fuss. Introduce me to your wife. If I fuck someone who looks exactly like that vicious bitch, it’ll feel damn good…”
But this time, he didn’t want to ignore it.
“You.”
Sarg picked up a bronze cup from a table next to him. The people whose drink was stolen protested, but he ignored them. And he slashed the hulk’s face with the bronze cup.
Sarg looked with a gloomy face at the hulk who was screaming.
“Now that I look at you, I don’t like the way you look.”
The hulk clutched his forehead and staggered. Blood flowed from his torn forehead. The hulk shouted and swung his fist at Sarg.
“You… you crazy bastard, what the hell!”
Sarg swayed back and dodged the punch. He was drunk, and he felt a strong urge to test out the new use for the bronze cup he’d just discovered. And like some drunks, he couldn’t restrain his impulses.
Sarg slashed the hulk’s face with the bronze cup again.
The people in the tavern watched the scuffle between Sarg and the hulk—actually, a one-sided beating. Most people in this neighborhood were far more interested in watching fights than stopping them, so they enjoyed this commotion.
“Hey, hey, hey, that crazy bastard is at it again.”
“Again?”
“You didn’t see? That drunk turned someone into half a corpse a few months ago. It was quite something.”
“Oh? He was the one who broke Busher’s leg? What a nutcase.”
“Wheeew, Sak! Make him a real corpse this time!”
“Those filthy bastards? If you dirty the floor, I’ll tear off your limbs! If you’re going to punch, go outside and do it!”
However, among them there were always righteous people armed with sympathy for the person getting beaten who thought the fight should be stopped. Such people approached Sarg to mediate the fight.
“Look here. Are you out of your mind? What do you think you’re doing?”
The methods of mediation varied. They spoke to him, grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him away from the hulk. Those who pursued somewhat rougher methods tried to strike Sarg’s head.
But none of them achieved their intended purpose of stopping Sarg.
“Damn it. Mind your own business!”
Because Sarg personally helped the mediators experience part of the hulk’s pain.
Sarg knocked two people to the floor and burst one person’s nose. Sarg wiped the blood splattered on his face and spat at the mediator sprawled on the floor:
“If you don’t want to get beaten instead of him, get lost!”
The mediators looked humiliated that their mission had failed. But they decided to put down their role as defenders of peace and justice and return to being drunkers. They spat with remarks like “what bad luck” and left the tavern.
Sarg pressed his knee on the hulk’s chest again, grabbed him by the collar, and faithfully performed the task he’d been doing.
Using a bronze cup to beat someone’s face perhaps had something in common with the cup’s original purpose.
The proper way to use a cup is this: pour liquid into the cup, bring the cup close to the face and make contact with the mouth.
And right now Sarg was also bringing the bronze cup into contact with another person’s face. Only the force, speed, and precise location were slightly different—in terms of bringing the cup to the face, it was similar to the original usage.
Of course, there was a crucial difference between the two. It was whether you put liquid outside the body into the body, or made liquid inside the body come outside.
Sarg’s method produced the latter result.
The hulk was expelling liquid from his body. His face gushed blood, and saliva and bloody foam bubbled from his mouth. Seeing the ugly sight, a question arose.
Why am I even doing this right now?
The beating was no longer an expression of anger. It was just something done habitually, like shaking one’s leg or biting one’s nails. Sarg couldn’t remember what he’d been angry about that made him decide to work over the hulk’s face.
What the hell have I done?
But Sarg didn’t stop. He raised the hand holding the bronze cup above his head. Then cold liquid poured over Sarg’s head. It was a ‘water shock’ from a clear sky.
Actually it wasn’t water but beer, so ‘beer shock’ might be much more accurate. Thanks to being suddenly hit with a beer shock, his mind snapped awake.
Sarg’s arm that had shot up into the air stopped. The muscles in his thick arm rippled. Soon it fell to the floor, submitting to gravity.
Sarg stopped beating the hulk and wiped his hair and face, now wet with beer, once.
It seemed there was still a defender of peace and justice left who thought the fight should be stopped. Sarg turned around to knock down the person who had poured beer on him.
“A cup is for drinking, not for beating people.”
At the end of Sarg’s gaze was a hooded woman. The woman’s voice was rough as sandpaper.
Somehow that voice is familiar.
Sarg tilted his head.
“You.”
“Oh, right. I left the baby alone, why? I checked that she was sleeping, so don’t say anything.”
Sarg couldn’t understand the woman’s words.
Baby? What baby?
Sarg, who had been kneeling on the hulk’s chest, staggered to his feet. He couldn’t control his body properly.
“I was wondering where you were so late at night, but you were here guzzling alcohol. No, I wouldn’t say anything if you just drank quietly. You drink and get drunk and beat someone to a pulp. You didn’t kill him, did you?”
Suddenly he felt a strange weight in his hand. Sarg was still holding the bronze cup in his hand.
Why is this here?
He remembered. He’d been beating someone with the bronze cup just moments ago. That’s why Sarg had a bronze cup in his hand.
But why had he been beating someone with a cup?
He couldn’t remember.
Tilting his head, Sarg threw the bronze cup, now stained with blood and flesh, to the floor and staggered toward the woman.
And he reached his hand toward the woman’s hood. He stopped his hand right in front of the woman’s face. He looked at her steadily as if asking permission.
The woman didn’t back away.
Sarg carefully removed the woman’s hood.
Tightly curled hair poured down like a waterfall. Shadowed eyes, a sharp nose tip, and sharp cheeks were revealed under the dim lighting.
It was a familiar face.
At the same time, an awkward face.
It was just as Sarg remembered, but something was strange. His vision kept shaking because he’d been pouring alcohol into his stomach all day.
Sarg tried to focus properly and looked at the person before his eyes.
“You were always this violent? That noble knight who said excessive violence should be avoided seems to have died. Damn it. How the hell did you get to this point…”
Hyderlin pressed her forehead with her long, pale fingers as if she had a headache. It also looked like she was suppressing emotion. At the end of his long observation, Sarg finally found what was strange.
Her hair wasn’t red but black.
“God Almighty, your lamb has fallen into a late rebellious phase. I don’t know what to do with you anymore… Sarg?”
Sarg carefully touched the black hair that poured over Hyderlin’s round shoulders with his fingertips.
Hyderlin flinched at Sarg’s sudden action but didn’t refuse. Instead, she gripped more tightly the bronze cup she’d been holding to pour beer on Sarg’s head.
If that drunk does anything crazy, I’ll have to hit him.
When Hyderlin stayed still, the drunk became bolder. He gently caressed her hair with his hand.
“Count Biche. Your hair is black.”
“……”
“Did it all burn up?”
The black hair slipping through his fingers was thin and rough. Both the color and texture were like burnt firewood. It must have all burned up in flames.
Well, that made sense. That woman had always been like fire.
“I liked your red hair.”
Sarg said sulkily. That woman’s red hair had been visible from anywhere.
Hyderlin looked at Sarg with an expression as if she’d lost her words. After Sarg just fiddled with the ends of her hair for a long while, she finally opened her mouth.
“What… nonsense is this? How much have you drunk?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I asked… Never mind. I can’t have a conversation with a drunk person. I’m afraid to leave you here in case you cause another accident. Let’s go.”
Hyderlin snatched Sarg’s hand and dragged him along. She was quite strong, and Sarg was in a relaxed state. The drunk was dragged along with staggering steps.
Sarg looked at the back of the woman’s head and back walking ahead. Her jet-black curly hair fluttered between her shoulders and shoulder blades. Sarg was dissatisfied with it.
“Why is your hair black? Bring it back.”
“Why are you picking on my hair color? I was born with black hair, so it’s black.”
“Your hair is red.”
“Did you just ignore what I said… That’s Count Biche.”
“Count Biche.”
“I told you to call me Hys.”
“Is that okay?”
“Is it okay what? Call me Hys. You were calling me that just fine a few hours ago… You got completely wasted after drinking a bit. Oh, not a bit, I guess.”
Sarg hesitated.
She had readily permitted the pet name, but Sarg didn’t have confidence to pronounce that name naturally.
It was a name he had called dozens of times alone when she wasn’t there, but he had never once called it in front of her.
But still, he had always wanted to call it.
So just once would be okay. Just once.
After hesitating for a long while, Sarg finally moved his lips.
“…Hyderlin.”
