CH 25

Chapter 25: The fat aristocrat knows despair

While Grace and Mitrof were dealing with the kobolds, a fang snuck up behind them.

By the time the two noticed, Canule was holding a round shield with both hands.

After lowering her stance, she repelled the fang with her shield, and he hit the wall and died instantly.

Canule had literally acquired monster-like strength.

“… Isn’t it a waste to make her a porter?” Mitrof murmured.

Grace nodded in silence.

Canule quickly bowed her head and apologized for participating in the battle and defeating the fang without permission.

Mitrof and Grace didn’t mind and were actually happy that Canule needed less protection. Having the consciousness to protect non-combatants could be a hindrance in battle.

It was fortunate that Canule had the ability to defend herself.

The three of them looked at the map and continued to explore the fourth floor of the dungeon.

Since they were in a place that had already been explored, it was unlikely they would be lucky enough to find relics like they did last time. As they confirmed their whereabouts, they defeated monsters they encountered, earning money and gaining experience points simultaneously.

They felt the difference in power when they encountered a troll.

To overcome this, they must accumulate experience and undergo “sublimation,” a strengthening process that only adventurers are allowed to undergo.

Mitrof believes that he would undoubtedly have died without the improvement of his mental strength through sublimation. It is such a blessing.

As they delved deeper underground, monsters grew stronger. If they didn’t grow alongside the monsters, death would easily come.

Even if they knew the location of the stairs leading down underground and headed straight there, they couldn’t go down if they didn’t have the strength to fight.

After exploring for a while, the three of them decided to take a rest in a small room they found.

It was a room that previous adventurers had converted into a resting place, and several other adventurers were sitting inside.

The three of them spread out a cloth in an open space and sat down.

In the labyrinth, it was difficult to relax and let their guard down since they never knew when they would be attacked. Just having a small room that ensured their safety made them feel relieved.

Mitrof let out a deep breath and slumped down onto the cloth.

“Labyrinth exploration is tough work—it exhausts you to the core.”

“It’s daunting to think that we might continue to descend underground endlessly.”

Grace added as she sat down and untied her boots, pulling out her thin legs covered in black tights. She folded her long legs and stretched her back.

“Mitrof, it’s better to loosen your shoes—it’s essential to take a good rest when you can,” Grace advised.

“I’ll follow the hunter’s teachings,” Mitrof replied, taking off his boots as well.

“I do feel more liberated,” Mitrof then said.

“That’s right. Canule—sit down too—you must be tired.”

“N-No, thank you. I haven’t done anything.”

Canule shook her head while standing.

“It’s hard for me to concentrate when you’re standing like that, right, Mitrof?”

“Oh, yeah—that’s the way it is.”

“What, did you think of Canule as a servant?”

Grace frowned in disbelief.

“I’m not sure how to handle the position of porter—old habits are hard to break—but I’m used to having someone around, so I don’t worry about it.”

Servants are essential to aristocratic life. They are always around, and if necessary, they can be instructed.

If nobles were always worried about their eyes, they would not be able to do anything. For nobles, servants are like furniture.

“How to treat the porter depends on the party’s policy—Mitrof, I don’t intend to treat Canule like a servant—how about you?”

“… I don’t plan to do so either—I’m no longer a noble, and Canule is not a servant—I’m sorry, Canule.”

Mitrof lowered his head towards Canule.

“No, no!—I don’t mind being your servant.”

“Don’t say that—rest for me, too.”

When Mitrof suggested it, Canule couldn’t refuse and hesitantly took a seat on the cloth. The hem of her black coat was long and spread out lightly.

“Okay, let’s eat here and finish up.”

“Food! I’m famished!”

“Me too—although we can’t be too luxurious with our food at the labyrinth.”

From their conversation, Canule quickly figured out what was going on and promptly handed over their luggage to them.

Mitrof immediately took out the assortment of portable foods he bought at the guild that morning. The small box was woven with wood and licked with bark. Inside were dried meat, cheese, raisins, and black rye bread.

Mitrof raised his eyebrows dejectedly and took the black rye bread in his hand.

“…Is this supposed to be food?”

“This is probably one of the better options.”

“I would rather go back to that cheap inn. Don’t you feel demoralized eating this?”

Mitrof looked at Grace with utter seriousness.

“Isn’t it enough to just be able to eat?—Eating is an act to gain vitality for our bodies.”

Suddenly, he felt a strong impact, like being hit on the back of his head. Mitrof was filled with despair.