Sylas's words resonated deeply within Roderick's heart. Had there ever been a word that so well understood the heart of a knight? It wouldn't be strange for someone who had lived as a commoner and then learned their true identity to be frantic about reaching the count's household as quickly as possible.
Yet, here was Sylas, calmly prioritizing Roderick's well-being.
'He's no ordinary person!'
Roderick swallowed hard as he looked at Sylas. As he had noted before, even his appearance was different from ordinary people.
'His face is as white as jade, even in this harsh environment.'
That was because Sylas had been scrubbing it clean in front of a mirror this morning.
'His reddish glow has an auspicious aura about it.'
That was due to the expensive candles he had burned generously to set the mood.
'Even his calm demeanor and the comforting words he speaks!'
Roderick had seen countless knights obsessed with honor before his regression, and he was bored of them.
'Perhaps I am witnessing the future hero.'
Unaware he was falling into his own delusions, Roderick's eyes misted over with emotion. Meanwhile, Sylas silently prepared the meal with a slight smile.
This is easy.
For someone who had experienced the trials and tribulations of regression, dealing with a young knight was a piece of cake.
Five days passed. Roderick's wounds had healed enough not to interfere with his daily life. It was not only because of Sylas's medicine but also due to his remarkable recovery ability.
'There won't be any aftereffects.'
The wound from the pitchfork was on his shoulder, which could have easily prevented him from wielding a sword, but fortunately, it had avoided the nerves and tendons. With about two weeks of treatment, he would likely be able to swing a sword without any issues.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to become a burden..."
"Don't worry about it."
Roderick repeatedly apologized, looking embarrassed, while Sylas brushed off the apologies lightly. In reality, it wasn't a significant problem at all. The second visit would come sooner than the wound's full recovery.
'By the way, didn't the village chief visit once before?'
"Sylas ! Are you home ?"
As he rummaged through his hazy memory, he heard the village chief's voice from outside. Roderick's expression tightened slightly as he was eating stew. Fortunately, it seemed the chief hadn't seen the interior scenery, as he shouted before arriving.
''To the basement''
''Understood.''
Sylas quickly directed Roderick to the basement and disguised him. Since he had thoroughly prepared in advance, the disguise was completed in an instant. Having erased all traces, Sylas went out to greet the village chief.
"What brings you here?"
"I just stopped by for a moment. Were you eating?"
The chief mumbled as he entered the cabin and sat down, acting as if it were his own home without any hesitation. Sylas was taken aback but made an effort not to show it as he sat across from him.
"How's the hunting these days? You haven't come down to the village at all."
"There aren't many game animals, so I'm short on food."
"A person needs to eat grains, too, don't you think? Eating just meat could make you sick."
It was rather a transparent remark. It seemed that he had secretly missed the taste of meat since he hadn't had much lately. Yet, when it came time to exchange for grains, he shamelessly haggled for an outrageous exchange rate.
"I'll handle that myself. Now, please get to the point."
"Your tone just now… tsk, no."
The chief furrowed his brow and interrupted himself. Although he was displeased with Sylas's attitude, it was better not to provoke him further, considering what he was about to say.
"Actually, I came because of a debt issue."
"Debt? What do you mean?"
"Well, your grandfather borrowed a little money from the villagers when he was alive."
It was a lie. Sylas's maternal grandfather, Norman, had hated owing any money to the village while he was alive. Being treated as an outsider and then accumulating debt would likely lead to being exploited by the villagers.
'But this kid doesn't know that.'
Typically, such financial matters were handled by the guardian. Unless one was an adult, it was common to be informed only when death was imminent. However, Norman had passed away suddenly not long ago. Naturally, Sylas wouldn't have received any information about the debts.
'For now, I just need to insist that there are debts. If the villagers are all claiming there are debts, what can he do?'
The chief didn't actually intend to collect any money. What mattered was preventing the young man from threatening to leave the village or causing a scene about wanting to be paid. This family had to remain a cheap source of meat and leather in the future.
"What debts? Exactly how much does he owe and to whom?"
"Well, there's the debt to Max and Ralph..."
A list that he had prepared in advance rolled off his tongue. Individually, each amount wasn't significant, but together, it added up to a considerable sum. As the list continued, Sylas scoffed.
"That's rather strange."
"Strange ? How so?"
"My grandfather always told me the list of debts. Yet, not a single one matches up."
"W-what?"
The chief flinched. No, did he really mention it to him?
'Your kind of guy was something he anticipated long ago.'
Seeing the chief's flustered face, Sylas smirked. His grandfather had known very well what kind of mindset the villagers had. He had also informed Sylas of several contingency plans should he ever find himself in trouble. The issue of debt was one of them.
"You mentioned borrowing a few utensils from Uncle Doris and two coins from Sven, right? But those two aren't even on the list."
'Damn it!'
The chief's face twisted in rage as his plan fell apart. He had never expected that all the debts would have been revealed!