How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 411

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“What…”

 

The opponent tried to get up with squinted eyes, seemingly attempting to start a conversation.

 

Crash—

 

I pressed down on his shoulder with magic and slowly approached.

 

“You must have been worried about getting caught by the police.”

 

“…”

 

In an instant, his eyes changed. He was now certain too. That I was a government-affiliated mage. He had two choices he could make. After a moment passed, he chose appeasement between the two.

 

“…What do you mean by that? Because of that soap?”

 

There was intentional fear revealed in the 40s Human’s eyes. Instead of resisting, he tried to engage in conversation with me. I nodded.

 

“That’s right, ma’am. Turn yourself in even now.”

 

“That’s just soap.”

 

“…”

 

“…Yes. To be honest, there is something inside it. It’s a drug that was recently banned from distribution in Germany. I used to get it prescribed every time in France, but since coming to Germany I couldn’t get it… so I found a dealer and purchased it. I can show you. Should I bring it?”

 

“…”

 

She must have made backup soap too. Amazing… At this point, it’s the effort of the exam creators that’s impressive. I slowly raised my head and looked around. It was decorated like a bourgeois ‘second home’. There aren’t many people who would build such a building in an ambiguous place that’s neither a resort nor downtown, but they put in earnest effort. The Human continued speaking as I remained silent.

 

“I can go in with you right now and bring it…”

 

“Is the code needed to bring that here an interview? A tutor interview? Hmm…”

 

Now, there had been a blind spot within blind spots up until now. It’s not a big problem, but let me touch on it lightly.

 

First, I’ll develop my thinking with the previously mentioned point in mind: ‘I immediately needed to find the intermediary called 【Bora Bread】 and get information, but the problem was there was no way to prove I was their ally.’

 

The blind spot I mentioned earlier was this: ‘Why didn’t they predetermine someone to visit the bakery at 3 o’clock?’ There are two possibilities.

 

First, they didn’t entrust the ‘messenger’ role to their own Pleroma members, but instead lured unrelated people to transport the goods. This creates two effects: 1) They can create one more Pleroma. 2) Even if things go wrong, they can cut off the tail and escape.

 

Second, the transportation risk was so great that even within the remnants, they were playing hot potato to find someone to deliver it, so it wasn’t decided until the last moment. If this were reality, it would be plausible enough, but since such information wasn’t given in advance for the current exam, there are somewhat sloppy and suspicious aspects. Therefore, while keeping this in mind, I’ll fix the first as the primary hypothesis.

 

But if they ‘lured unrelated people to transport goods,’ wouldn’t just presenting the goods grant a kind of passage? The blind spot within blind spots lies here. Why did I utter meaningful words like ‘I came to deliver freeze-dried bread to Ms. Violet Brot’ to the bakery owner and ‘I came for an interview, ma’am’ to the 40s Human? If they lured unrelated people, wouldn’t it be proper not to know anything about Violet Brot, freeze-drying, interviews, and such?

 

“…That is, otherwise wouldn’t I get caught at checkpoints? To somehow safely trade drugs…”

 

“How selfish of you.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Then wouldn’t I get caught? Luring with money and making me say I came for a tutor interview… And to a poor Human male at that?”

 

While I smiled lightly, he looked at me with a furrowed brow. His expression made it seem like I was talking nonsense.

 

“Since surveillance is spread everywhere, if things go wrong, you people planned to pin all the blame on these ‘messengers.’ The police would surely let them through after hearing they came for a tutor interview.”

 

In the case of Humans, it’s rare for males to work as tutors. Such cases aren’t entirely nonexistent, but that’s not the key point—Hauslehrer. However, this type of private tutor is somewhat different from the Gouvernante tutor mentioned in the job posting. Lucas Everett, who taught 5-year-old Leonard Wittelsbach, corresponds to a Hauslehrer who is a Prinzenerzieher. Even considering the possibility that if the messenger visiting Bora Bread was male, they might change Gouvernante to Hauslehrer on their own, Hauslehrers are usually from the upper class, so they’re definitely not people who would depart from Panco District slums wearing secondhand suits—. In a situation where I absolutely ‘must not stand out,’ having me say I came for a tutor interview, whether Gouvernante or Hauslehrer, means that if something goes wrong, I alone should go to the afterlife.

 

Nevertheless, why did I utter the code?

 

The answer lies in the extreme closedness and extreme caution that the current Pleroma possesses, as confirmed earlier.

 

Let me give an example. Earlier, I was caught by police. Suppose the police picked up the gnawed soap in my pocket. They might or might not suspect it, but I’d bet on them being suspicious. If that gnawed soap were lying on a wall or roadside, how would anyone know who threw it away or what it was, but if it’s carefully kept in my pocket, they might wonder why soap that was never used once is gnawed and why I’m carrying such trash around. It would be lucky if they just let it slide, but let’s assume otherwise. If a poor youth who has nothing to do with Pleroma and was just carrying this because someone offered money rambles incoherently and only says something like ‘I was told to deliver this to an 8-year-old Human from the Gutsmus family,’ naturally only that youth would be handcuffed, and an investigation would go to the completely unrelated Gutsmus ‘family.’ The Pleroma waiting on Gutsmus ‘street’ would easily become innocent and gain time to escape.

 

Next, if the youth had his wits about him enough to decide he couldn’t die alone and used a legitimate strategy of taking others down with him—that is, if he recited exactly what someone who promised him money and entrusted him with transport had told him—composing a script based on what I’ve learned so far: ‘I actually came because someone asked me to deliver something, and that person is so-and-so from Panco District (hereafter A). A said to go into the bakery, ask for Violet Brot, and show this frozen soap, then the bakery owner would tell me the . The bakery owner said there was an 8-year-old Human boy on Gutsmus Street, and earlier A said to go to the , say I came for a tutor interview, and bring this item, then the would give me a large sum. So I’m heading to Gutsmus Street as both told me, but I don’t know exactly what this item is’—the youth would be punished, but the focus of guilt would definitely turn toward Pleroma more than in the previous case, and the possibility of police catching them red-handed would increase.

 

However, even in this case, there’s a way for Pleroma to buy some time. If the youth comes with police to the ‘caretaker and child,’ they can make excuses: ‘We just came out because the child wanted to play with snow, we’ve never sought a tutor, we’ve never waited for interviewees on such streets, we don’t know that person at all, and it seems like he’s trying to frame us and cause harm.’ It’s a plausible statement by common sense. Even if police want to interrogate them with divine power or investigate deeply just in case, there’s currently only one adult who can be interrogated and is the child’s guardian. They could immediately take the caretaker away with the child, but since they might belong to some precious family—not surprisingly, depending on the case, such random searches or investigations become lax for nobles or bourgeoisie—they usually don’t do that, so there’s a possibility police might delay the investigation date or time. Pleroma deliberately placed a child to buy even a brief moment of breathing room.

 

Now, the blind spot within blind spots is resolved.

 

With such extreme caution that they might die from being overly sensitive, they naturally embedded codes in cook advertisements, put items in molds, made soap with dark wax, and even took a bite out of it—what would they choose to become even safer?

 

They have no choice but to want the youth to speak like the above script. If the youth simply says ‘I was told to deliver this soap to that woman sitting on that street,’ that 40s Human has no opportunity to buy even a moment of time unless she displays personal wit and quick thinking, and therefore has no choice but to quickly go to the police station for investigation regardless of what bourgeois-like clothes she wore—ex. However, we’ve already heard that you’re related to the item inside this soap, so we have no choice but to investigate. If you’re innocent, ma’am, it would be faster to come with us. You must be offended, but the more so, let’s hurry and prove your innocence—. Creating other problems to cover up problems is an importantly significant element in politics or schemes, but this has the critical flaw of lacking other problems to serve as shields to obfuscate the essence.

 

However, the more the youth spouts concrete and fanciful stories to ‘clarify the crime,’ the more his words fall into a labyrinth and increase the listener’s bewilderment. It’s not the simple-minded notion that police would blindly suspect the youth’s words, but rather that the caretaker’s plea of ‘I never sought a tutor, I just came out because the child wanted to play with snow, I don’t know what this item is. Why would I wait for interviewees here? That person is framing us because he got caught by police’ creates even a little room for thinking ‘perhaps this person’s words might be right’—therefore, in this case, the possibility of immediately and forcibly executing the previous ex decreases a bit more. Unlike the previous case, there’s a story here that serves as a shield to obfuscate the essence. Of course, this isn’t a topic that can be divided cleanly like cutting radishes. There’s no guarantee that obfuscation will always work, and naturally there’s still a possibility of immediate arrest. But if there’s a way to set up a shield that might buy 30 minutes, 1 hour, half a day, or even more than a day? Since even 30 minutes of breathing room would be appreciated in this situation, if I were Pleroma, I would naturally choose this path. If I construct a payoff matrix from game theory on this topic, I can more intuitively confirm what Pleroma should choose.

 

I muttered while pressing down on the 40s Human.

 

“Even if that’s medicine, isn’t the tail-cutting too severe? You’ve also found all sorts of other ways to escape.”

 

“…I don’t know what you mean by ‘other ways,’ but I didn’t think that far ahead. There won’t be any smuggling from now on, so if you could just overlook this once… Without that medicine, my hands shake so I can’t work—”

 

“Come to think of it, there was a child—where did he go? Are you that child’s caretaker?”

 

“Yes, that’s right. He’s upstairs now—should I bring him down?”

 

“I see… Then where are the other people? There should be two more.”

 

The opponent missed the timing to answer and tilted his head with a puzzled face until the end. I smiled at him and said.

 

“Is it time for them to come down now?”

 

Swoosh— Crash!

 

The moment I raised my head at the sound of air being torn from behind, the person who had been at my feet had somehow escaped and was aiming a wand from far away. Black stems spun around my vision.

 

Crash—! Crackle—

 

I spun my body and cut the stems with the sword I had switched to. A Pleroma colleague had come from behind. It’s hard to immediately distinguish whose it was, but the cut Vitriol recovered on its own and flew spinning toward the back of my head.

 

‘Didn’t they set the skill level too high?’

 

Clang—!!

 

A strange sound occurs when Vitriol and sword clash. With two people’s Vitriol attacking me at once in this cramped first floor, there’s insufficient space. I squinted while running my tongue along the inside of my lips.

 

‘Since it’s come to this, should I handle them all at once?’

 

No matter how high they set it, a strategy game is still a strategy game—just remnants acting as someone’s lackeys. It’s an easier game than facing Nepomucena Betin. Especially…

 

‘[Fear not, for I am with you.]’

 

Red light spread through the floor and walls. This entire building was covered by my barrier magic. Since there was no magic power rushing toward the enemy, they probably judged it as a pointless attack or calculation error. Someone’s Vitriol approached with nimble form and good momentum as if gaining the upper hand.

 

[The Lord of hosts will punish them with thunder and earthquake and great noise, with whirlwind and tempest and the flame of devouring fire.]

 

It moves as if time has been stretched. 1m, 50cm, and the moment it reached right in front of my nose.

 

Crash—!!

 

[All the nations that fight against Ariel, even all who fight against her and her stronghold and distress her, shall be like a dream, a vision of the night— But the Lord knows the way that I take!]

 

Crash—! Whoosh—!!

 

I squeezed my eyes shut at the exploding red light. I know it’s not good to close my eyes and interfere with my senses, but it was the best option for now. The dome’s magic power condensed the wide-area magic and burst with roaring sounds and light as if to explode the house. The ground repeatedly shook with a thud as if there was an earthquake. The moment I grabbed the staff with both hands, spun it, and switched it to a sword, five streams of black semi-solid liquid grabbed my arms. Unfortunately, one beat too late.

 

Crash—!! Crack—

 

I trampled one Pleroma’s shoulder and stabbed the sword down into his heart. Along with the sound of penetrating something soft, there was a sound of something breaking and a scream burst out.

 

“Aaaahhh!”

 

[It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.]

 

Blood and Vitriol gush forth. Since Vitriol tried to repair the wound, I had to push magic power strongly. My limbs twitched as if electricity had passed through them. I had to close my eyes. Even though it was mimesis, watching a person die made curses rise to my throat. But it couldn’t be helped. I had to do it. Here, absolutely.

 

When the convulsions diminished and suddenly stopped completely, I looked around at the gradually clearing light. One person was missing.

 

I immediately aimed my wand at the upstairs stair railing. With a crack, I grabbed the wrapped magic power and slammed it hard against the floor.

 

Crash—!

 

As soon as I went up to the upper floor, I heard a shrill sound and turned my head in that direction.

 

“Huff, huff… gasp…”

 

The caretaker I saw first, that is, the 40s Human, was holding a completely melted soap chunk and a small silver revolver. His finger was on the trigger, so I immediately swung my wand upward.

 

Bang—!!

 

The gunshot made my ears ring. Along with the wand’s movement, his arm dropped the gun. Smoke rose from the floor. I strode over, grabbed his jawbone firmly, and slammed him to the floor.

 

Crash—!

 

“…! Cough…”

 

“…”

 

I knocked him down with magic power and pressed down on his back. He must have panicked from killing his colleague—it wasn’t difficult. This one was clearly in a time-stalling role. Vitriol bubbled below his knees. He must have planned to commit suicide after eating and destroying the item or whatever—to avoid interrogation. I put my hand in his mouth, stirred around, and pulled out a small medicine bottle that caught on my fingertips.

 

About 5ml of black liquid was in it. A very small glass bottle. I stared at it quietly and muttered.

 

“You should have been suspicious from the moment the last batter arrived.”

 

Why was I the last in order?

 

If I must think about it, let me abandon the perspective of a ‘Union mage who came to deal with remnants’ and view the world from the examiner’s perspective. Why did the examiner write in the newspaper that interviews would be held three times, and make the bakery owner say they knew we would come at 3 o’clock? (A) First, the examiner wants me to solve the ‘three interviews’ as well. (B) Second, since I checked that the exam started at noon here, exam time is from 12 to 4 o’clock. Even taking a carriage from 3 o’clock, it would arrive at Gutsmus Street at 5 o’clock from Panco—it generally takes about an hour to travel 10km by carriage, but from Panco District to Gutsmus Street is over 20km—. This exam is certainly training made as similar as possible to actual situations, but nevertheless, overlooking or excluding that this is an exam goes against the essence. Even if I wanted to think ‘it would be less suspicious to move to Gutsmus at 3 o’clock’ and depart according to common sense, since the exam ends at 4 o’clock, I have no choice but to depart before then, and if so, efforts to maintain maximum naturalness would become largely meaningless. In other words, I can conclude that the examiner wanted us to head to Gutsmus Street immediately upon obtaining information, and combining this with (A) confirmed earlier from the examiner’s perspective, I can see that I was the last batter. Adding a bit more speculation…

 

The other two are probably already sleeping here. How quickly one finishes and exits the exam would also be an evaluation indicator. There would be various ways to rescue them, but…

 

Crash—!

 

I struck down the staff from where I sat, shattering all the wooden doors on this floor. The shockwave reached me too, and I had to make an effort not to close my eyes.

 

Good. Now calling the police would be best. Killing this Pleroma would mean losing the opportunity for interrogation.

 

I lightly broke the Pleroma’s core, cast binding magic, and took him outside. And as soon as I came to where the outside was visible, I raised my wand toward the sky and shot red light.

 

Whoosh—

 

About a minute passed? No, it seemed like not even that much. Mages in police uniforms instantly warped in front of this place and aimed wands at me. Raising my hands, I took out the certificate stained with Vitriol with my other hand not holding the Pleroma’s binding magic and said.

 

“Union 101st unit. I’ve arrested Pleroma remnants, please take them away.”

 

Beep—

 

At that moment, the world turned white. The Vitriol and blood on me were gone now. There was no Pleroma or Gutsmus Street. No more secondhand suit either. I was wearing the Union 101st unit uniform as originally. And…

 

I turned my head toward the two figures in this training ground that should only be pure white. Adrian Ascanien’s two adjutants. One of them also serves as a professor at the 1st Education Institute. I believe they were in charge of grading the training. I glanced at the time required floating in the air and narrowed my eyes.

 

About an hour and 30 minutes had passed since I finished the game and came out. Shouldn’t they be grading instead of standing here? I asked them who were staring intently at me.

 

“Has everyone finished the exam already by any chance?”

 

“No. Only Narke Farnese and Lucas Ascanien finished the exam within an hour and 30 minutes.”

 

Hmm. Yes, if it’s Narke, he would have ended everything with divine power. It’s a good ability. However, my question about why they were here wasn’t resolved.

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

“You are the highest scorer in this training exercise, sir.”

 

At those words, I was taken aback and parted my tightly closed lips. Before I could ask anything more, one of the adjutants spoke with a stern expression.

 

“You must go up to the Commander’s Office immediately with Narke Farnese, sir.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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