The Genius Professor Wants An Easy Life - Chapter 80

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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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Chapter 80
“What’s so difficult about it? Is it pride? For Joanna’s sake, wouldn’t you do anything?”
The Duchess of Besth bit her lip hard.
She couldn’t bring herself to nod easily.
It seemed like more than just pride holding her back.
“You’re afraid of the King of Yeokcheon, aren’t you?”
“…You don’t understand how terrifying he is.”
“I do. But why are you so frightened?”
I spoke with deliberate provocation.
“Isn’t the King of Yeokcheon your closest confidant? Yet you can’t manage something this simple?”
It wasn’t idle talk.
The Duchess of Besth was closer to the King of Yeokcheon’s true identity than anyone else—far more intimately than she cared to admit.
“How do you know the King of Yeokcheon’s true identity? You’re not saying Ecclesia has already seen through him?”
“It’s more surprising that you think they haven’t. If the King of Yeokcheon is wary of Ecclesia’s gaze, then he must be drawing his own lines while committing his atrocities.”
The Duchess of Besth’s eyes grew complex.
“Aren’t you curious? How merciful the King of Yeokcheon might be toward you? For all his talk, you’re the person he favors most, aren’t you?”
“That’s nonsense. He has no interest in me whatsoever. We’re nothing but partners in calculation, trading what benefits us both.”
“Then you should have no trouble following my suggestion. If it’s truly just a transaction, what’s wrong with a little backstab?”
“Ha! What rubbish you speak.”
“Or who knows? Maybe this affair will finally make him notice you. Isn’t anger better than indifference?”
The Duchess of Besth’s face contorted with disbelief.
Yet her voice didn’t rise as sharply as before.
There was something contemplative in her gaze now.
Knowing the true nature of the relationship between the Duchess of Besth and the King of Yeokcheon, the words “anger is better than indifference” weren’t wrong at all.
“…If I truly follow your words, can I really obtain the Extreme Bright Sword?”
She was agreeing to my proposal!
I nodded.
“Yes, it’s entirely possible.”
“Hmph! I’m only cooperating for Joanna’s sake, whether I like it or not.”
“Good. First, fix that arrogant tone of yours.”
“…What did you just say?”
Oops.
Because of the mistakes she’d made earlier, the Black Flame Dragon’s Temper manifested.
The corner of my mouth curled up with insufferable smugness, and these words spilled out.
“Am I not your master here at this Banquet? Show me the proper attitude of a servant toward her master.”
* * *
Two days passed.
I enjoyed the Banquet with the Duchess of Besth and the Massacre Demon on either side of me.
Both were beautiful women, so to an outsider it might have seemed I was strolling through a garden of flowers,
but I would’ve gladly traded them for Hans and Linden as companions instead.
“Ohoho. Master, here—a cocktail for you. I’ve brought this specially made cocktail just for you.”
Grind.
Behind her mask, the Duchess of Besth gnashed her teeth at me as she handed over the cocktail.
The crimson liquid looked as though it was made from fresh blood soaked in cursed energy.
That wasn’t all.
“Hehe, Master~? Won’t you set aside such filthy things and drink this juice I made? I specially prepared it just for you, Master. It’s delicious~!”
Grin, grin.
A bright, saccharine voice.
The Massacre Demon was simply enjoying the situation.
As I mentioned before, she wasn’t a mere avenger—she was a pleasure killer.
Like a cat toying with a mouse before the kill, she had a sadistic taste for tormenting her victim before death.
‘…Help me.’
I wanted to weep, but the Black Flame Dragon always maintained an air of noble composure.
I accepted their service as though it were my due, and everyone in the Banquet hall watched our tableau with rapt attention.
“The Witch of Cruelty serving him like that. That rabbit mask must truly be the King of Yeokcheon.”
“Why would the King of Yeokcheon personally attend?”
“Who knows? The King of Yeokcheon is a mysterious figure among the Ten Demons. His true identity remains unknown.”
“There’s definitely an intention behind this.”
“It would seem so. We can only hope not to be swept up in whatever it is.”
Everyone watched nervously from a distance, and not a soul dared approach me.
It happened on the third night.
The third night.
Just as the tension seemed to ease, the jester’s mask reappeared.
[Ahahaha! Are you all enjoying the banquet? To heighten the festivities, the Dark Auction has prepared a special event for you!]
Every attendee’s eyes flickered with renewed interest.
The Dark Auction’s events were famous.
For being terrible and ugly.
Participation was optional, yet countless attendees took part each time.
Because the rewards were extraordinary.
[Are you all satisfied with the auction? I suspect not many of you are. After all, only one person can obtain what they desire from the auction. Even the winner might be dissatisfied with the price paid. That’s why we’ve prepared this!]
The jester spread his arms wide.
[Introducing the Loser’s Revival Match! Challenge the auction winner to a duel, and if you emerge victorious, you can claim the item they purchased!]
The jester continued, addressing everyone present.
[Of course, the winner must have incentive too, or no one would accept a challenge. If the winner triumphs in the duel, the loser pays the auction price. Should the winner not need money, our auction house could claim an item of our choosing and have the loser pay for it instead. Or perhaps the winner simply demands compensation equal to the purchase price directly from the loser.]
To win and steal the auctioned item, or to lose and pay a terrible price to your opponent.
The premise seemed straightforward enough, but that wasn’t the true point of this duel.
[However, under such rules, the strong would simply monopolize everything. For fairness, we must add another rule. Before the duel commences, any attendee may strike a bargain with the demons we serve.]
The crowd gasped.
[Fear not—this is not a permanent contract, but rather a one-time transaction limited to this single duel. You surrender something precious to you, and in exchange, the demons grant you power proportionate to your sacrifice!]
One attendee asked, voice sharp with unease.
“‘Something precious’? What exactly does that mean?”
[Well, that would depend on the individual, wouldn’t it?]
The jester laughed, a soft, unsettling sound.
[For you, for instance… perhaps your beloved daughter’s heart?]
The man’s face went white.
[Ahahaha. There are no fixed rules. The more deeply precious the sacrifice, the greater the power granted!]
The hall fell silent.
Everyone understood the true meaning of this rule.
‘Despicable, truly. How very demonic.’
I grimaced.
The banquet had stretched on for three full days now, and everyone present had begun to gauge one another—who they were, what power they wielded.
And now someone challenges another to a duel?
‘That means they’ve sacrificed something to the demons, enough to defeat their opponent.’
But what of the challenged?
They have no choice but to offer their own sacrifice to the demons as well.
Otherwise, they lose.
‘The challenger must calculate whether their opponent will also sacrifice to the demons. In the end, each side escalates further, sacrificing something even more horrific.’
This psychological war spirals endlessly, and the price demanded by the demons grows exponentially.
‘In theory, one could simply ignore the event, refuse to challenge or be challenged.’
But as I mentioned, countless people will participate anyway.
Because greed is that terrible.
[Now then, shall we begin? Who is our first challenger?]
“I will. I challenge the hawk-nosed mask.”
The challenger was a Level 6 lower-tier Knight.
The hawk-nosed mask, by contrast, was a Level 6 upper-tier Mage.
Though both were Level 6, at higher levels the gap between lower and upper tier was as vast as heaven and earth.
Under normal circumstances, a lower-tier Level 6 could never prevail, yet the duel’s outcome was the opposite.
The lower-tier Level 6 Knight severed the upper-tier Mage’s head from his shoulders.
‘All thanks to the horrific price paid to the demons.’
As blood sprayed, the hall ignited with fever.
Challenge after challenge followed.
Victory belonged neither to the strong nor the weak.
It belonged to whoever had sacrificed more greatly to the demons.
‘Ugh. I really hate this.’
I grimaced where no one could see.
Of course, those killing and dying here were all villains who deserved their fate.
Yet as someone who was once an ordinary commoner, this spectacle ran counter to my very nature.
Then I noticed.
The Massacre Demon’s eyes met mine.
“Hehe, are you pitying them, Master? How merciful of you.”
It was a test.
I had to break her in, so to speak.
I rolled my mind over the problem.
‘A standard answer will only breed resentment.’
“Yes, I pity them.”
“Hmm.”
Unimpressed.
But then.
“Whether I pity them or not—what business is it of yours?”
“!!”
“Pity is the privilege of the strong. If I choose to pity those worms, that is my prerogative.”
“Even as you prepare to crush them?”
“That too is the privilege of the strong. Who are you to call me a hypocrite?”
The Massacre Demon’s eyes deepened, growing distant.
It was an unremarkable exchange—but not to her.
‘The Supremacy of the Strong. It’s the core of her thinking.’
She believed her kind suffered because they were weak.
So now she sought to grow strong and annihilate humanity.
By the same principle of the strong that had been inflicted upon her.
“Hehehehe, well said. The world does bow to the will of the mighty, after all. I shall remember your words, Master.”
The Massacre Demon’s eyes gleamed with newfound interest.
Fortunately, it seemed I hadn’t answered wrong, but her gaze toward me deepened into something far more predatory—as though she were studying appetizing prey—and a chill ran down my spine.
Meanwhile, from beside me, the Duchess of Besth let out a scoff at what I’d said.
“What nonsense is this? Have you lost your mind?”
“Show your master proper respect.”
“Oh ho ho. Very well. Of course.”
As we spoke, the atmosphere of the duel grounds reached a fever pitch.
At last, the highlight arrived.
[Thank you all for your enthusiasm! We at the Dark Auction cannot sit idle. We present a special prize: an Auction Wish Voucher!]
“!!”
[The final victor may demand anything of us—anything the Dark Auction possesses! We look forward to your fierce competition!]
It was an extraordinary prize.
You couldn’t simply seize an item another had won—but you could demand any treasure from the Auction’s own vaults. No one could resist such temptation.
Indeed, the eyes of many changed at once.
“I’ll step forward.”
“I cannot withdraw either.”
Those who had been sitting heavily in their seats, immobile until now, began to move.
Level 7 masters engaged in a series of consecutive duels.
‘In the outside world, you’d struggle to find a single Level 7 Grand Master. Yet here they are, dueling one after another.’
It was a sight of extraordinary rarity, yet I could not watch the matches in peace.
Not with the ‘incident’ I would soon have to orchestrate.
Before long, a final victor emerged.
[There it is! The Tiger Mask takes the victory! Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge?!]
No one came forward.
They had recognized the Tiger Mask’s true identity.
The Gluttony Demon.
A Level 7 upper-rank master who had reached the realm of Grand Master—a supremely powerful being.
Unaffiliated with any faction, yet so formidable that none dared touch him.
[Very well, I shall count down. If anyone wishes to challenge, please step forward! One… two… three…!]
At that moment.
A heavy voice rang out across the hall.
“I will challenge.”
“!!”
A deathlike silence fell over the arena.
The speaker was none other than myself.
The operation had begun.

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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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