No More Pain For This Villain.



[Cecelia's POV]

Bargain Alley sprawled before me as Aron guided our steps. The market was a whirlwind of activity, a symphony of colors and sounds. Canopies of vibrant hues formed a shifting tapestry above, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the cobblestone streets below. Vendors eagerly hawked their wares, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus of commerce.

Aron and I, bedecked in our resplendent robes, couldn't escape the intrigued glances and hushed murmurs trailing in our wake. Our presence, an almost regal air amidst the common crowd, drew attention like a magnet.

In measured silence, I followed Aron's lead, concealing my inner turmoil beneath a veneer of composure. The events of the previous night had left me sleepless, haunted by the gruesome scene of the academy nurse's demise. The head butler's swift response had led to the discreet removal of the lifeless body and the meticulous cleansing of the tainted room.

Word of the nurse's death had naturally reached the ears of the academy's authorities, but their reaction had been curiously subdued. The disquieting truth chipped away at my idealistic belief in the academy as a haven for meritocracy, where social status would not tip the scales. It seemed that even here, within these hallowed halls of knowledge, the influence of nobility held sway.

Our journey through Bargain Alley led us deeper into a maze of exotic scents and spirited merchant banter.

Eventually, our path led us to an inconspicuous storefront nestled in a quiet corner of a narrow alley. The sign, bearing the elegant inscription "Herbal Emporium," caught Aron's discerning eye.

Without a word exchanged between us, Aron entered the shop, a seemingly ordinary establishment that harbored some of the alley's most enigmatic secrets. A soft bell announced our arrival as I followed him inside.

The shop's interior was dimly lit, with shelves crammed full of jars, vials, and dried herbs. Behind the counter, a cloaked figure lingered in the shadows, barely discernible.

Aron leaned in to whisper something barely audible to the hooded figure behind the counter. The response was a nod and a subtle gesture that directed our attention to a discreet wooden door nestled at the rear of the shop.

He advanced toward the door, his silence laden with tension. For reasons known only to him, Aron had been avoiding my gaze, leaving me increasingly uneasy.

A sensation of bitterness washed over me. Simply being near Aron elicited feelings of disgust, emotions I struggled to conceal. Circumstances had thrust us together, propelled by the shadow of his threat against my father's standing in the Royal court. Under different circumstances, I would have distanced myself from him long ago.

As Aron touched the door handle, a shiver ran down my spine, and I instinctively gripped the hilt of my sword. 

An odd tremor swept through me, the room's unsettling ambiance compounding my unease.

"Ahem* Please... hurry," the robed figure's voice, once warm, had now taken on an icy edge, urging us to enter.

The door creaked open softly with a click, and a metallic scent, unmistakably blood, reached Aron's senses. But as we crossed the threshold, we were met with a confounding sight—a wall had materialized before us, as though conjured from thin air, blocking our path inexplicably.

The man behind us, the one in the hooded robe, maintained his steady stride, urging us to step aside. 

From within his robe, he produced a wand, a rarity in a world where most people practiced chant -less magic. This wand, however, was unlike any other—they could discern its material. It was crafted from a unicorn horn, a choice both unique and captivating.

As his incantations filled the chamber, an uncanny transformation unfurled before our eyes. The bricks that comprised the mysterious wall started to shift and rearrange themselves, guided by an invisible force, a mesmerizing dance that defied logic. The very room seemed to breathe with an uncanny life of its own.

....

The chamber now stretched out before us, its eerie ambiance intensified by flickering torchlight.

Aron took a cautious step forward, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, but his uncertainty led him to glance back at me. My presence behind him seemed to offer him some measure of...... relief? No it can't be!

-as the bizarre nature of the room unnerved me.

"Is it here?" Aron asked aloud, drawing my attention back to the present.

I remained silent, my thoughts turning once more to the enigma that was Aron. With each passing day, it became increasingly apparent to me that he was nothing short of a madman.

His actions, his behavior – it all defied logic.

I couldn't forget the strange incident from just a few days ago when Aron had abruptly declared his intent to learn Beast Mastery. It made no sense, and what was more baffling was his decision to attend a first-year lesson.

I couldn't help but wonder..... Was it really that important to him?

A wry thought crossed my mind: 'Maybe... this guy lost his mind that day.' I was reminded of the welcome ceremony for first-year students.

That day, Aron had been struck hard by someone – undoubtedly a third-year or higher – yet he had never revealed the person's identity. Aron wasn't weak by any means; he was a 2 Star Mage with an impressive affinity for wind magic. Yet, compared to his step-siblings, he was far from exceptional.

As I glanced at Aron's back, the image of Adam surfaced once more in my mind.

'Haha... he can't be like Adam,' I thought, reflecting on the stark contrast between the two.

Adam is kind....he a great human being.

As Adam represented light, Aron seemed to embody nothing but pitch-black darkness.

"Oh! You are here! Sorry I was... mesmerized," a voice, low-pitched yet filled with a peculiar joy, resonated with the person standing near the cage.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Prince," he continued, turning his attention to Aron. With a deliberate, almost theatrical flair, Aron removed his robe. "I am whom they call... Broker."

Cages of various sizes lined the room, each containing an array of creatures. 

At its heart stood a man, his clothing worn and tattered, his attention divided between us and the  cages.

An odd-looking person. The man was notably short, a dwarf, his tattered robe and weathered face bearing the marks of a hard-lived life. Scars crisscrossed his visage, and his dark, shrewd eyes darted about the room with an observant intensity, taking in every detail.

"I asked, is it here yet?" Adam repeated his question, maintaining a cautious distance from the dwarf.

"Yeah, it sure is... quite beautiful for my eyes to even look at," the Broker replied with an unusually joyful tone.

My confusion persisted. This morning, Aron had simply instructed me to follow him, and I had assumed we were going to purchase some illicit substances. However, the situation had taken a bewildering turn.

"Show me," Aron requested, and the Broker nodded in response.

The dwarf led the way, and Aron frequently glanced back, a behavior that only intensified my sense of unease. I struggled to comprehend his motives or thoughts, a recurring frustration that had plagued me for years.

As we proceeded, I couldn't help but notice the cages that lined the chamber, housing an assortment of mana beasts and... people.

Were these individuals slaves? I knew that a significant portion of aristocratic society clandestinely employed slaves, despite the illegality of such practices. Those with enough power often bent the law to their advantage.

"Wahhh!! Mom!!"

"Huh??!"Suddenly, a piercing scream, high-pitched and laden with despair, shattered the silence and sent a shiver down my spine. 

The cry belonged to a child, a fact that filled me with dread and prompted me to search for its source.

I scanned my surroundings, trying to locate the source of the dwarf's curse. His voice had shifted abruptly, from joyful to enraged, as he lashed out at one of the smaller cages. The impact of his kick reverberated through the room, silencing the muffled cries within.

A tense moment passed before Aron broke the silence. He didn't attempt to peer inside the cage but instead inquired, "What... who was that?"

"It's a human child, very young, perhaps around five years of age," the Broker replied calmly, continuing to walk ahead. Aron followed him as though nothing unusual had occurred.

My feet remained rooted to the ground beneath me. I couldn't move, gripped by a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"The child's mother sold her to us," the Broker added, prompting me to prick up my ears and finally bend down to peer inside the cage.

Inside the cage, a young girl of no more than five years old huddled in a corner, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion. Her large, teary eyes glistened with vulnerability. Tattered clothing clung to her small frame, and her grimy face bore traces of recent tears. She clutched a worn, faded toy tightly to her chest, as if finding solace in its familiar presence.

The Broker continued to speak, his words callous and unsettling. "We are going to send her to Viceburg. Let us know if you require any slaves in the future. We have a variety to suit your preferences." His smile was nothing short of repulsive.

"Hey Bitch! keep moving!" Aron's stern voice snapped me out of my trance. I was at a loss for what to do, but I tore my gaze away from the girl and reluctantly followed Aron, leaving behind a scene that left a heavy weight on my conscience.

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