Dark Fantasy Normalized
Chapter 97: The Incomprehensible Man (2)

"Ahem."

The clearing of a throat broke the silence.

At that cue, the atmosphere—previously centered entirely on Rishir and Gadum—became unsettled.

"The food tonight is truly excellent."

"Is it only tonight? In all of Bondales, no one has as refined a palate as Lord Gadum—"

"I hear the chef used to work for one of the high noble houses—"

"By the way, the business matter you mentioned previously—"

"Say no more. It's only thanks to Lord Gadum backing me—"

It was a scene of beautiful friendship, an attempt by Gadum’s “friends” to shift the mood and save face after his position became awkward.

But Gadum was not so soft as to feel genuine gratitude under these circumstances.

"So then..."

"What I was trying to say is..."

If one had to express their behavior with onomatopoeia, perhaps “glancing about nervously...” would suffice?

The seasoned Gadum could tell:

They were feigning nonchalance, but their eyes were still on him.

They wanted to know one thing:

Now that Gadum had tried and failed to shame Ran, how would he recover?

“Damn it all—”

Gadum stared at the Modoa in his hand, his eyes twitching.

He sniffed faintly, tracing the lingering scent of the wine in the air.

That signature tartness—like a needle pricking his nose.

“It was spoiled... wasn’t it?”

After confirming it again, he glanced at the young man before him—Rishir—with thinly veiled dread.

“Please, don’t be shy. Let me pour you a glass.”

Rishir, who had effortlessly consumed half a bottle of clearly spoiled Modoa, smiled brightly.

No sign of nausea or pain—just calm amusement.

“How...?”

And then Gadum noticed it—beneath that polite smile... discomfort. Just barely visible.

“Why’s he making me drink? Did I do something wrong? Was it taking Ran’s side that upset him?”

His face showed those thoughts as plainly as day.

And that look said:

**– It’s unpleasant, but I can tolerate it. **

Gadum flinched.

“He endured Modoa’s toxins without even grimacing? What kind of monster...?”

His youthful, easygoing expression now looked more like a mask.

“Such a fine day. Such fine wine. Surely I shouldn’t be the only one enjoying it, no?”

No. It wasn’t his imagination.

This boy was using Gadum’s own earlier words against him—pressuring him to drink.

Rishir held out a hand toward Gadum’s bottle of Modoa.

On reflex, Gadum pulled the bottle back.

“Ah, damn—!”

He had momentarily forgotten the eyes of his “friends” and enemies, all watching him closely.

“Yes! Yes, of course! Can’t let you drink alone on a fine day like this!”

To recover, he hastily handed the bottle to Rishir and raised his own glass.

At this point, there was no choice but to accept the challenge.

After bracing himself, he downed the spoiled wine.

Despite its spoilage, Modoa retained its signature fragrance and refinement.

“So that’s how he managed it. It’s unpleasant, but tolerable... yes, I can do this too.”

His forced calm slowly began to look more natural.

But the moment the wine hit his stomach—

“...!”

Reflux.

Gadum felt his stomach rebel and try to force the wine back up.

“Hhhfff...”

Contorting in discomfort, he barely managed to suppress the urge to vomit, keeping the wine down by sheer will.

Panting, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—

He saw Rishir’s expression falter as he looked at him.

Was he surprised that Gadum drank it?

“Yes... He must have cheated somehow. There’s no way he drank it honestly.”

Gadum, regaining some confidence, was about to press the offensive when—

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“...What?”

“I had no idea you were so averse to drinking, Lord Gadum.”

“...!”

He realized, a hair too late, the implication:

“What’s this? You’re gagging after just one drink? Then why did you make such a fuss earlier? You’re making yourself look like the villain here.”

“Hmm, the scent is a bit odd though... is this how this wine is supposed to taste?”

It was mockery.

Rishir knew the nausea was from Modoa’s toxicity—and still pretended otherwise.

He was painting Gadum as a man who couldn’t handle one drink.

“Ugh...!”

Taking a heavy blow from Rishir’s merciless psychological attack, Gadum finally snapped and stormed out of the hall.

And the rest?

Everyone turned to look at Rishir.

“Does this mean... I’m drinking the rest by myself?”

He casually sipped from the bottle of Modoa.

“...”

“...”

“...”

What is he...?

Fear crept into a few nobles’ eyes.

***

[...has left the party.]

[...has left the party.]

***

Moments later—

Gadum returned, struggling to compose his face.

“Must’ve been the servant’s fault for mishandling the Modoa.”

“So many responsibilities lately... accidents are bound to happen, right?”

“Maybe Lord Gadum sincerely meant to offer a fine drink to Lady Ran.”

The nobles’ remarks were laced with the subtle tones of noble spin.

They were reframing the situation with thinly veiled sarcasm.

As nobles, their egos were as fragile as their power was great.

And Gadum’s display had, without question, shrunk his stature among them.

“How did things get to this point...?”

This had gone too far.

This moment had to become the turning point.

“I have no choice but to bring that up.”

Returning to his seat, Gadum spoke to Ran and Rishir as though nothing had happened.

“A little stir, that was all. Now then—are the dishes to your liking?”

Ran and Rishir, though cautious, played along with polite responses.

Small talk passed between them.

And just as their wariness seemed to ease—

“Ah, Rishir. There’s something I’ve been curious about—would you mind a question?”

“Please, go ahead.”

“In that case—Cadogan and Ragan. What did you do to them?”

"Khrmph!"

Coughs rang out from various parts of the banquet hall where the feast was still underway.

Gadum's question had been that abrupt—and that blatant.

"Ah, if the question was too sudden, I apologize. If it puts you in a difficult position, there's no need to answer."

Even as he said this, Gadum wore a calm and composed expression.

Who could possibly maintain composure under such pressure?

Even for Councilor Ran or the influential nobles present, it would not be easy.

And now that challenge was being thrust onto a young mage who looked barely of age.

Could he handle it gracefully?

It would already be impressive if he didn’t freeze up in shock.

As expected, Rishir didn’t reply immediately.

That much was predictable.

But what followed next—

"?"

Rishir.

He simply blinked at Gadum, looking at him blankly.

It was the kind of dazed expression that seemed to say, "What are you even talking about?"

So casual that it actually made the one asking the question look like the fool.

"I mean..."

Gadum, who had confidently led the conversation so far, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

Deceiving someone like Gadum—who had manipulated countless powerful figures in Bondales—was near impossible.

No matter how skilled the act, he always found the cracks and exploited them.

But now, looking at Rishir, he couldn’t find a single crack.

‘Ragan? Cadogan? Who even are they?’

Rishir had never been to Left Hand With Wine, nor had he ever met its barbarian owners.

So naturally, he had no idea who they were.

A fact beyond Gadum’s comprehension.

"Isn’t that a rather irresponsible response? I said you didn’t have to answer, not that you could dismiss my kindness so lightly!"

"I apologize. I truly would like to answer sincerely, but I honestly don’t know anything about it—"

"No... ha!"

Gadum squirmed in frustration.

No. It’s him.

He was sure this was the bastard who took down [N O V E L I G H T] Ragan and Cadogan.

So how could he be acting so shamelessly?

The nobles watching looked as if they were witnessing something unreal.

Gadum, being toyed with by a young aristocrat?

‘Who is this Rishir?’

‘Where did that guy come from...?’

‘Wait. Why is Gadum asking him about Cadogan and Ragan? Don’t tell me—he’s the one who wrecked Left Hand With Wine? Not Ran, but him—!’

Their stares focused not on Gadum—but on Rishir.

And in that moment, both Gadum and Ran could feel it clearly.

Their "friends" were drifting away from Gadum—and some of them were beginning to align themselves with Rishir.

"Quite the curious person, isn’t he?"

"Pardon?"

Ran didn’t miss the opening.

She spoke to a noble seated nearby, who had been staring at Rishir in a daze.

"I mean Rishir."

"Ah... y-yes, indeed."

As Ran turned her attention, another noble jumped at the chance to join in.

"Councilor Ran, I hear this Rishir fellow is an honorary mage of the Tower. How did you come to meet him?"

"Ah, well—"

The conversation spread like wildfire.

"I heard he purged cultists? Is that true?!"

"Without even the help of the city guard... how is that possible?"

"By the way, Councilor Ran—about that orphanage you’re sponsoring. I was planning to—"

Gadum’s "closest friends" looked awkward, casting side glances.

Gadum’s more distant allies, however, eagerly engaged Ran.

"..."

Gadum could only watch helplessly as the room split before his eyes.

"Oh..."

Rishir let out a soft sound of admiration.

Recruiting Gadum’s people in Gadum’s own territory?

Impressive.

He looked at Ran, clearly impressed.

"..."

And in turn, Ran—watching as Rishir sowed disorder in Gadum’s house—was also in awe.

“Fufu...”

“Fufu...”

Each interpreting the other’s expression as they pleased, their sense of mutual confidence grew ever stronger.

***

[Gorek of House Halomian has left the party]

[Harlan of House Volcan has left the party]

[...has left the party]

...

...

***

The banquet continued well past its scheduled end.

Because Ran and her newly made friends kept chatting.

Gadum wanted to end the banquet early—but how could he?

He was the host. They were his guests.

If he suddenly cut things short while they were having fun with someone else, it’d be no different from throwing a tantrum like a jealous child.

His pride had already been shattered by the Modoa incident.

But even now, there were still lines he couldn’t afford to cross.

So in the end, he resorted to a loophole.

"It’s gotten quite late today. Let’s continue this again tomorrow."

Gadum extended the banquet with a vague promise.

The guests moved to the rooms he had prepared for them.

***

"..."

Left alone in the banquet hall, Gadum fell deep into thought.

"Lord Gadum."

A heavily armed man approached.

A city guard—though in truth, more accurately, a weapon of Gadum’s will.

"We’ve found Damal."

"..."

Damal—he managed one of Gadum’s business fronts.

Not as large as Left Hand With Wine, but still sizable.

During the chaos following the incident, Damal had tried to flee, taking the enslaved assets with him.

"What should we do?"

"...Did he have help?"

"Yes. It seems he promised compensation to their families."

"Track them all down. Drag them in."

"Sir?"

"Make an example."

"..."

The guard ran a hand along the hilt of his sword and nodded solemnly.

But Gadum wasn’t done.

"And bring Dogal. Now."

He summoned the elite enforcement unit under his control.

***

In his assigned room, Rishir sat on the bed and began to focus.

Before resting, he intended to conduct a bit of sword training in his inner world.

"Chuin-ni!"

"Hm?"

It was Berbandes’s voice.

He looked down to see the little sand girl staring up at him from beside the bed.

"Oh, Berbande-chu. What is it?"

"No!"

"?"

"Berban... de..."

Her body trembled.

She was trying hard to pronounce it correctly.

"...Chuya!"

Even though her tongue wouldn’t quite cooperate, the plucky little spirit seemed incredibly proud of herself.

"You got that?"

"Of course I did."

"Knew it! You're the best, Chuin-ni!"

Berbandes scrambled up onto the bed.

Looking Rishir in the eye, she asked:

"Chuin-ni! Are you busy!?"

"I was just about to get busy."

"Chuin-ni’s always a busy-bee!?"

"Sorry-bee."

"Then, can I go out for just a bit!?"

"Go out? Where?"

"I smell something tasty!"

"..."

Was she planning to sneak leftover food from the banquet?

‘Well, I guess it’s fine. They’d throw it out anyway.’

After a moment’s thought, Rishir nodded.

"No causing trouble. Go quietly and come back quickly, okay?"

"Yup!"

Nod-nod!

Berbandes shook her little head furiously.

She dissolved into a gust of sandy wind and slipped out through a crack in the window.

Rishir closed his eyes again, preparing to enter his inner world.

"Hm?"

He opened them suddenly, as if remembering something.

"Do spirits... get hungry?"