I Possessed the Heroine’s Teacher

Over the past week, there were two new developments worth noting.

The bastard named Loyd—or was it Steroid?—ended up being dragged away tightly bound in chains. He eventually confessed to accepting money from some suspicious individuals. I suspected he was hiding more, but no amount of torture could make him spill further details. Even though he was a relative of the empress, the scale of the situation had grown so severe that no exceptions were made. Adding to that, the crown prince himself had ordered a thorough investigation, leaving even Loyd’s noble allies powerless to intervene.

Without a doubt, even if he were to be released later, many of his body parts wouldn’t function properly. Why, you ask? Because who was in charge of investigating this case? Me. And I dislike outsourcing. I personally oversaw the torture preparations. Hanging him upside down and whipping him was just a warm-up. Other methods included pouring saltwater into his nose while he was hung, sticking needles in him as if playing a pirate-poking game, electrocuting, freezing, peeling the skin off his soles and dousing them in oil… In short, I ensured there was never a moment without his screams.

I didn’t expect him to be this weak, though. Despite not being accustomed to pain, he was far more fragile than I thought. He kept insisting that he was only paid off and eventually fainted from the pain. Since he fainted, I had no choice but to wake him up. So, I used a very traditional method.

“Cold water, cool his body.”

I splashed cold water on him using magic. Jesus offered wine, likened to his blood, to his disciples. The inquisitors that followed offered cold water to heretics. As the last inquisitor, it only made sense for me to do the same.

“Huuuuaaaah!”

Perhaps my generosity in even offering cold water to trash startled him, as he immediately regained consciousness.

I lit a cigarette. I don’t usually smoke, but a proper torturer should have a cigarette in their mouth—it’s tradition.

“Hey, let’s not do this to each other. Just spill everything and let’s all relax, okay? I want to finish this and go home, damn it. So please, just talk.”

In deference to Jesus, who considered even human trash human, I gently urged the trash to confess. I could almost see the three great saints smiling approvingly at me.

“I really don’t know…”

“Oh, so that’s your type, huh?”

Masochist. The kind who derives sexual pleasure from pain. If that’s his preference, then it’s my duty as the artist of pain to cater to him. A true artist of torment always shares their craft for free.

“So, what’s next? Should I pour boiling oil into your ear? Break your legs and roll you down a steep hill? Or… Oh, let’s go with the peanut cracker.”

“Peanut cracker…?”

“You don’t know peanuts? The ones hanging between your legs, dumbass.”

His face turned pale. I see, he must really love his peanuts. If he had a peanut allergy, I might’ve stopped.

“I remember now! I remember everything!”

The love for peanuts must have been so strong it jogged his memory. I couldn’t help but pay my respects to the humble peanut, native to South America, a member of the Fabaceae family of dicotyledons in the Rosales order.

“Good, good. What do you remember?”

“The one who gave me money… He was tall, carried a sword, and had an extraordinary aura about him.”

That Lancelot bastard? In the world I came from, he was known as “The Adulterous Knight,” “The Bastard Who Swears Loyalty by Stealing the King’s Woman,” or “The Berserker Below the Waist.”

“He gave me money and asked for the sewer key and rental rights.”

“And you sold them off? You treasonous scum.”

In honor of the great peanut, I kicked him in the stomach.

“Gaaaah…! When I asked why he needed it, he said knowing too much would get me hurt.”

“That’s the same excuse you gave earlier, bastard! What’s this ‘knowing too much gets you hurt’ crap? Knowledge is power, you idiot! You’re getting hurt today because you know too little!”

Anyone who didn’t know Francis Bacon’s adage, “Knowledge is power,” deserved a soccer kick. Even though the man froze to death studying chickens buried in snow, he was a great individual. Not knowing his words only proved this guy was trash.

“No, no, no! He added something after that!”

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier, you idiot! Can’t you see how much suffering you’ve caused me and everyone else here?”

I kicked him in the stomach again. This time, I also kicked his shin. Kicking his shin didn’t have any particular significance—I was just angry.

“Ughhhh!”

“Hurry up and tell me what that bastard said! Or do you want me to draw blood today? Should I bring back my days as the Blooded Noble?”

“He… He said, ‘I’m picking out merchandise.’ Yes, he definitely said that! And then he left. That’s all!”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier, you bastard!”

I beat him up for a while longer. Watching the torture, Ricardo, the crown prince, Camelia, and everyone else eventually had to step in to stop me. Until then, the fists of justice didn’t stop.

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.

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The second notable thing is that I finally got a house and a bank account.

To be precise, I reclaimed Werner’s old account, but I was thrilled nonetheless. What delighted me even more was the amount of money in it. In the original story, it was described as the accumulation of allowances from his siblings and some salary savings. However, the actual amount was beyond imagination. It was enough to establish several trading companies in this world’s standards—a fortune so great that for a brief moment, I felt like telling my old world to go to hell.

As for the house Ricardo prepared for me, it wasn’t exactly massive. Well, it was fairly large, but it seemed modest compared to Ricardo’s own residence. Still, I loved its elegant white exterior and the garden complete with a pond. Ricardo said he’d handle hiring servants and guards for me.

Oh, and there was a bit of commotion when it came to deciding on rooms. Glacies and Iris argued about who would take the room next to mine. Honestly, moving in without even getting to eat celebratory noodles was already frustrating, but having to deal with their quarrel made it worse. So, I simply chose the room next to Camelia’s. I also gave the room I originally planned to use to Glacies.

Glacies and Iris seemed impressed by what they called my “Solomonic” wisdom. Since neither of them could say anything further and merely glared at each other, I suppose my decision could indeed be called a Solomon-like judgment. The only one who smiled at this was Camelia.

“Oh, my lady, your expression wasn’t good recently, but it seems you’re feeling better now?”

“Ah… I’m fine now. I’ve been organizing my thoughts bit by bit.”

“Organizing your thoughts?”

“Well… about the man we encountered in the sewers…”

At that moment, a knife flew towards us with a swoosh, and Camelia deflected it with her hand.

“What’s this commotion about?”

Camelia’s hostility wasn’t directed at me but rather at my two troublesome friends’ daughters, Iris and Glacies. Once again, their silly argument had escalated into something involving weapons. Honestly, if this keeps up and one of them gets seriously hurt, I’ll be the one taking the blame. Whether in life or in gambling, I must avoid taking the fall for others.

Yet, hastily implemented regulations can often backfire. I didn’t want to end up like the idiot behind the shutdown policy, who thought limiting teenagers to one hour of gaming per week during specific hours was a good idea. A rushed solution would only worsen the situation. I needed to think carefully before acting.

However, the half-elf seemed to think differently and quickly laid down a rule.

“If you fight again, I’ll report you to your parents and have them take you back. Iris will return to Zig, and Glacies will be confined to the northern territory.”

It was the ultimate move of an elder: threatening to tell their parents. And as expected from an experienced elf, her skill in handling children was exceptional. The two hung their heads, sullenly agreeing to behave.

I felt a bit sorry for Iris, who had her date interrupted last week, but I could make it up to her later.

“Iris, your birthday is coming up. Is there anything you want? I’ll get it for you.”

Within financial reason, of course.

“Then, promise to go on a proper date with me on my birthday. No matter what happens, don’t leave my side.”

“Fine, even if meteors fall or tsunamis strike, I’ll stick with you.”

Finally, Iris’s gloomy expression brightened.

Then, I whispered into Glacies’s ear, whose mood had visibly darkened further.

“The next day, I’ll spend time with you, Glacies.”

I am Werner, a man of fairness.

When both of them left the hallway with smiles and entered their rooms, Camelia resumed her earlier serious discussion.

“I know who the man we encountered in the sewers was.”

Her tone was uncharacteristically grave.

“So, who is it?”

Even just knowing his identity would greatly aid future investigations.

“That man… His name is… Raven.”

With a trembling voice, she continued.

“Raven Peony… He’s my father.”