My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 40

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The other disciples fell silent at the sight. They’d gleaned the general outline from his letter, so they understood the situation well enough.
Cesare snatched the menu away without hesitation.
“One hundred fifty Beasts? We’ll clear them in an hour, so don’t worry. Besides, we’ve got plenty of money. Hey, everything from here to here — bring it all!”
Dishes began appearing on the table one after another: a thick steak, fried freshwater crab, warm corn soup.
With each new dish, Arkel’s trembling grew worse. He who’d remained composed before Beasts now fidgeted anxiously at the sight of food.
“How much is all this? It must be worth thousands of Beasts at minimum.”
“Don’t worry, big brother. We have at least tens of millions of Batz.”
“If we have it, spend it carefully.”
He still hadn’t dared touch his fork. Cesare cut a large piece of steak and pushed it into Arkel’s mouth.
“No refunds, so eat! This one too! I’ll order us some drinks!”
“Wait, it’s still in my — mmph.”
“Big brother, this is delicious too. Open up.”
Once Cesare started force-feeding him, Arkel had no choice but to pick up his fork himself.
Watching him nibble so sparingly made my chest ache. The other disciples seemed to feel the same way.
When we stared at Arkel too intently, he grew visibly uncomfortable. Had we looked too long? He gave a short, forced cough and stood.
“I’ll step outside for a moment. I’ve eaten too much.”
But he’d barely eaten anything. As Arkel rushed toward the door, he collided with another customer.
The man was large and quite drunk. He scowled and shoved Arkel’s chest roughly.
“You little bastard, why are you blocking the way—”
Bang!
It happened in an instant. Arkel grabbed the man, and before he could even scream, his body crashed hard against the cold floor.
Somewhere along the way, Arkel had drawn a Knife — he must have snatched it from the neighboring table. He stared down at the customer with murderous eyes.
“Arkel!”
At my cry, Arkel flinched and stepped back. The killing intent radiating from him gradually faded.
The customer had provoked him first, but Arkel’s response was excessive. I turned to the stammering man and apologized.
“My companion is a bit drunk. I sincerely apologize.”
I bowed deeply. The customer glanced between me and Arkel, then scrambled to his feet.
“Damn lunatic, know your limits with alcohol! This is disgusting…”
With that, he left. The tavern fell silent. Customers stared at us — the kind of look you’d give a wild animal.
“Give me the Knife, Arkel.”
I held out my hand, and he looked startled. After handing over the Knife, Arkel hung his head.
“I apologize. This isn’t Suri Prison…”
Even as we stepped outside, he seemed to remain trapped inside those prison walls. I felt uneasy about it in every way.
The tavern still hung thick with awkwardness. I tipped the band. As lively music filled the space, the atmosphere improved somewhat.
Customers gradually turned their attention elsewhere. The disciples looked startled but soon relaxed. When we returned to our table, Cesare raised his voice.
“Drunk people who make a spectacle of themselves are the worst. He bumped into you and then picked a fight? Are you alright, brother?”
It was strange hearing that from Cesare, an alcoholic himself. This was almost self-sabotage.
Arkel nodded once. Cesare, seeming eager to lift his mood, began speaking derisively about the drunk man.
“If we’d left him alone, he would’ve hit you and thrown a proper tantrum. Drunk people lose their minds — they can’t tell left from right, can’t recognize their own parents or teachers.”
Jenia beside him tilted her head.
“Why are you introducing yourself?”
“Hey, I quit now, remember? And I was never that bad when I drank!”
I remembered the moment we’d first met, when a drunk Cesare cursed at me viciously. He hadn’t even recognized his own teacher then.
Noisy conversation continued after that. Arkel only answered with nods or brief affirmations.
There were several moments where the conversation threatened to die. Jenia stared at him and finally asked.
“Big brother, why are you so quiet? Are we making you uncomfortable?”
Arkel’s attitude was definitely strange. He spoke easily enough with me, but barely said anything to his siblings.
His responses lacked enthusiasm, and he didn’t initiate conversation. When Jenia asked, Arkel hesitated before speaking.
“I do feel a bit unfamiliar, honestly. It’s been fifteen years since we’ve seen each other. And you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
At Jenia’s question, Arkel’s gaze shifted to Cesare.
“The letter said Cesare worked in a flower shop as a delicate young man. That he was like a graceful lily, someone who needed protecting.”
“What?”
Cesare’s jaw dropped. A graceful lily. Cesare’s forearms were practically as thick as Jenia’s legs. Were there lilies with such thick stems?
Arkel then turned his gaze to Jenia.
“It said you’d become a flower of society. That you’d become a refined lady with both dignity and maturity. That countless men fawned over you.”
Arkel stared at Jenia without speaking. She couldn’t have been more than one hundred fifty centimeters tall, with a round, soft face. She was cute, but maturity was nowhere to be found.
What exactly had Gaston’s associate written in that letter? Why had they doctored it so badly?
Meanwhile, Arkel quietly asked Cesare something.
“Your letter said you got engaged. What’s the actual situation? Do you have a partner?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I see. And what are you doing for work?”
The conversation had taken on the feel of an interview—or perhaps a distant aunt questioning a nephew about his recent life.
“I was doing mercenary work until recently, but I left it all behind. A complete change of life.”
“Complete Change, yes.”
“As long as you understood.”
Cesare grumbled and chewed his meat noisily. He seemed embarrassed. Arkel watched him silently, then turned to Jenia.
“Jenia, how have you been?”
“I was controlled and abused by a child-murdering wizard who adopted me under the pretense of finding my family.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that it was Arkel who faltered. His shoulders hunched, and he murmured low.
“If I had been there, you wouldn’t have suffered like this…….”
Storm clouds gathered across Arkel’s face. He wasn’t the type to torment himself like this—but fifteen years was a cruel stretch of time.
The air grew heavy. Cesare glanced at the mood, then opened his mouth.
“Anyway, about that one billion Batz you received—the warden took it back, right? Can’t you recover it?”
He seemed to be changing the subject. Or maybe he really was just interested in the money.
“I’m not sure. Since there was no contract, I can’t say for certain whether I can get it back.”
“No contract? Brother, you’re more reckless than you look. Without saying a word to us, you just…….”
Cesare held the fork between his teeth, wobbling it, letting his sentence trail off. A sound like muttering escaped him.
“You could’ve at least said something.”
Arkel either didn’t hear that remark or pretended not to. He simply gazed at Cesare in silence.
“It doesn’t look good to hold a fork in your mouth like that.”
Cesare started to say something, then set the fork down. His expression had turned sour.
An odd atmosphere was settling in. I ladled lasagna onto plates and set them before my disciples.
“Eat while it’s hot, all of you.”
“Yes, Master.”
Arkel began eating his lasagna slowly and deliberately. His manner was quite refined.
Even as a child, he’d had impeccable table manners. He was cultured enough in so many ways that people often mistook him for a nobleman.
His younger siblings, by contrast, ate with distinct personalities. Jenia was dissecting her food piece by piece, observing it—her plate was a mess.
Cesare ate noisily and with gusto. He bit into his bread almost combatively as he spoke.
“Master, what will we do next? Go back right away?”
“I thought we’d rest for the night and return to Aspenhelm tomorrow. Matteo said he has something to discuss with me.”
He’d asked me to wait while he handled a few things. I had a rough idea what it was about, but not the details.
After finishing the meal, we stepped outside. As I settled the bill, Arkel stared at me from behind—intently.
He seemed to be murmuring as he counted the beasts. Meanwhile, Cesare folded his arms and spoke, his breath clouding white in the air.
“Ugh, it’s freezing. I really admire people from the Northern Region. I’d either be barely hanging on with strong drink or frozen solid.”
“You quit drinking anyway.”
“Then I suppose I’d be frozen solid.”
The wind was indeed bitterly cold, just as he said. Suddenly, I noticed Arkel’s clothing.
Beneath his dark furred cloak, the Prisoner’s Garb was visible in patches. The cloth was crude, and he couldn’t go around wearing prison garments any longer.
“Let’s stop at a clothing shop and buy you some proper clothes, Arkel. You need something to wear right now.”
“There’s no need, Master. These clothes are still serviceable.”
Even when I’d seen him at Suri Prison, Arkel had worn unusually shabby clothes compared to the other inmates.
The garment bore clear marks of patching and mending. No one could have done it for him—he must have repaired it himself.
Imagining him, the slayer of beasts, sitting alone in a dark cell mending clothes with needle and thread struck me as strangely poignant.
“People will get the wrong idea if you keep wearing prison garb. Come on, let’s buy you something new.”
We headed straight for the clothing shop. It was a modest store for a small town, but inside there was a decent selection.
What would suit Arkel? Cesare picked out a soft shirt and offered it to him.
“Brother, what about this? It looks warm.”
He regarded the garment with a cool gaze and said nothing. Cesare felt awkward but pressed another option.
“Not that one? How about this?”
Again, there was no answer. I offered my opinion from beside them.
“I think it looks fine.”
“Twenty thousand Batz seems too expensive.”
“Should I get you the two-hundred-thousand-Batz one instead?”
“I’ll take the twenty-thousand-Batz one.”
Arkel grabbed the clothes without ceremony. His manner toward us was distinctly different from how he treated his siblings—I’d been noticing it since the meal.
His gaze toward them was remarkably cold, observant and analytical.
Was he trying to come to terms with siblings so different from what he’d expected? Or was it something else?
“Master, I’d like new clothes too. Can I get some?”
Jenia had quietly slipped to his side at some point, cradling several garments in her arms.
“Of course. Pick whichever you’d like.”
“Yes!”
Jenia disappeared into the fitting room. It occurred to him that they could all use fresh clothes—new outfits for everyone would be welcome.
Meanwhile, Cesare and Arkel remained caught in an odd tension. Even Cesare, who had been speaking so readily, had fallen quiet.
He’d expected them to embrace at first sight, to share some touching reunion. Yet the atmosphere felt strained, nothing like he’d imagined.
Then the curtain drew back and Jenia emerged. She’d chosen a plush-looking cape and a short skirt—a cute design that suited her well.
“Master, I want this one.”
The way she spun in a full circle was charming and heartwarming. She looked a touch cold in it, but she wasn’t prone to feeling the chill much. Jenia turned toward Cesare.
“Brother, what do you think? Does it look good on me?”
“You’re almost too lovely for mere clothes.”
“You’re saying it’s pretty? Thank you.”
The awkwardness that had lingered seemed to ease a little, thanks to Jenia. She looked toward Arkel with a question in her eyes.
“What about you, big brother? Be honest with me.”
“Honest?”
“Yes.”
Arkel’s gaze swept over her from head to toe. After a brief silence, his voice came through.
“Tasteless.”

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