The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 49
Chapter 49: The fat aristocrat sells commodities
“Did you see us yesterday? You were watching us, weren’t you?”
The girl’s shoulders jumped in surprise, but she eventually nodded several times, as if resigned.
She seemed terribly frightened. Mitrof stroked his chin, wondering how to handle the situation. ‘What would Grace do?’
Mitrof squatted down without startling her. He raised both hands, showing that he was not carrying any weapons.
“Well, this is a reunion, then. It’s good that we’re both alive. My name is Mitrof, and you are?”
“…Apélie Tiff.”
“Nice to meet you, Apélie Tiff. I want to help you. Are you hurt?—Can you show me?”
“…Why?”
“Why?”
Mitrof blinked quickly.
“Why are you helping me?—I don’t have anything.”
“I’m not expecting anything in return—when someone is in trouble, we help each other—that’s what being an adventurer means.”
Mitrof smiled. That was the first lesson he learned from Grace. In the labyrinth, everyone helps each other. That’s what it means to be an adventurer.
However, Apélie Tiff shook her head.
“…I have seen a lot of adventurers abandon their comrades and leave them behind; there is no reason for you to help me—just leave me alone.”
Apélie Tiff spoke and began to stand alone. Placing her hands on the various dents on the wall, she shifted her weight to her left leg. It seemed as if her right thigh was injured, as blood was staining the cloth even in the dim light.
She needed medical attention. The young girl’s build was small, and this amount of bleeding could be fatal if left unattended.
However, Mitrof did not expect to be refused help when offering it.
Why would Apélie Tiff refuse treatment?
He thought that helping when someone was in trouble was a rule that supported adventurers. When helped, one expresses gratitude.
Mitrof looked at Canule. It was a plea for help.
But Canule did not move from where she was standing. Because of her hood, her expression could not be seen—well, even without the hood, her expression could not be seen.
‘Oh, how inconvenient.’
Mitrof shook his head.
If this were between nobles, Mitrof would be able to read the other party’s thoughts. Profit and loss are what drive nobles. There are clear demands, and there are deals to be made. They are always thinking about how much they can take from the other party.
But what should he do when someone refuses something offered freely?
His tutor did not impart such negotiation strategies.
The girl who had stood up completely was walking, dragging her legs as she leaned against the wall.
Mitrof could only watch her silently. He didn’t know how to persuade Apélie Tiff.
Suddenly, Canule was standing next to him. She leaned in close to Mitrof’s ear and whispered in a low voice.
“Mitrof-sama, the beastmen are a noble race—I hear they never accept one-sided charity.”
“…I see—if I only keep helping without taking in return, I may hurt their pride.”
There are many different races living in the country, each with their own vastly different cultures and ideologies. Even in the labyrinth, it seems that this fundamental truth remains unchanged.
Mitrof pondered for a moment and took out medical tools from Canule’s baggage.
“Wait, Apélie Tiff, I want to sell this to you.”
Apélie Tiff stopped and turned around hesitantly.
“Clean fabric, a hemostatic ointment, and bandages to protect your wounds—these pills are for pain relief.”
“…I don’t have anything.”
“I know. But you live in the labyrinth, don’t you? I’ve heard that there are precious plants and minerals inside. And also, let’s see, information. There may be hidden paths or dangerous places in the labyrinth that other adventurers don’t know about. Things that you take for granted may be valuable to us.”
Apélie Tiff looked at Mitrof skeptically.
“…It seems like you have nothing to gain from this.”
“Of course, there is a profit to be made—the selling price is double what it is on the surface—and I’ll take twice the amount I paid for it from you,” Mitrof said.
Apélie Tiff squinted her eyes, appearing to be considering Mitrof’s proposal or observing the unique individual before her.
“…Don’t you think I’d take it and run?”
“Are you planning to run?”
“I won’t run—I won’t do that kind of thing.”
Apélie Tiff said resolutely. It was the response Mitrof was hoping for.
“Well then, it’s settled—I’ll trust you, and we have a deal.”
Mitrof placed the item on the spot and took a few steps back.
Apélie Tiff looked at Mitrof and the item, seeming to be pondering for a while. Finally, she approached the item, sat down, and took the ointment in her hand.
She bent her leg, piercing her pants with her canine tooth. With a pop, the fabric was easily removed, exposing the wound on her thigh.
It seemed like a scrape on the outside of her thigh, but it was hard to tell from where Mitrof was standing.
He was worried that a blow like the one from the swordhorned rabbit would have pierced through, but for the time being, it seemed safe.
If it were a serious injury, ointments would only be a placebo. They probably would have returned to the ground with Apélie Tiff in their arms and thrown her into a treatment center.
She wiped away the blood and applied ointment to the wound, pressing the cloth firmly and tightly wrapping it in bandages. It was a practiced movement.
Mitrof admired Apélie Tiff’s skill while keeping an eye on their surroundings.
“Do you know how to treat injuries?”
“…I saw adventurers do it like this.”
After finishing wrapping the bandages, Apélie Tiff took a pill from a small metal can. Though looking suspicious, she popped it in her mouth and bit down with a crunch.
Immediately, her face tensed up, and tears overflowed from the corners of her eyes.
“Just so you know, it’s not poison—that’s what it tastes like.”
“…Adventurers are strange.”
Even adventurers would not prefer to take it. Who would enjoy a taste that assaults the bitter and sour taste buds at the same time? However, the strong flavor is also a revitalizing medicine to bring the injured person to clear consciousness. It couldn’t be helped.
The girl wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes and stood up again. Her movements were now steadier, the effect of the powerful medicine showing.
“You seem to be alright now—do you have a place to stay?—Or shall I send you somewhere?”
“…I’m fine.”
“I see—well then, we will excuse ourselves.”
As Mitrof was about to turn away, Apélie Tiff stopped him.
“I want something small.”
“Something small?”
“Something that has your scent on it—that way, I can track you down.”
“I see—your kind has a strong sense of smell, right?”
Even so, being asked to give someone something with his scent on it was embarrassing for him as a human.
Mitrof searched through his pockets and found two handkerchiefs.
As a noble, his manners were still deeply ingrained. One was for wiping sweat, but the other was a well-crafted handkerchief he carried around to give to women. It was a nobleman’s hobby.
It wasn’t dirty, and it should still have his scent on it.
Mitrof slowly approached Apélie Tiff and handed her an unused handkerchief.
Apélie Tiff’s eyes widened at the purity of the cloth. She received it timidly.
“…Apélie Tiff made a deal with you—I will definitely pay it back.”
“Understood—but first, it’s best to prioritize healing your injuries—if you get hurt again, I’ll sell you medical tools at double the price.”
“…You’re a strange adventurer.”
“I’m still a rookie—and as I mentioned before, my name is Mitrof.”
“…Mitrof.”
“Great, then be careful on your way back.”
Mitrof left the place with Canule. When he turned around after taking a corner in the corridor, Apélie Tiff’s figure was already out of sight.