Who knew killing someone could make me chuckle so contentedly?
As a doctor, I never would have worn a face like this.
But I'm not a doctor anymore.
And honestly, the fact that I'd just taken out that trash named Karen with my own hands felt better than I could've imagined.
I could still picture that bitch, who'd treated me like a pushover my whole life, scrambling desperately as she begged for her life. "Young Master! Even hatred can turn into affection!"
And the catharsis when an arrow slotted perfectly into that gaping mouth as she tried to flee...
"Can't put it into words."
It was like days of constipation suddenly giving way to the most satisfying dump imaginable.
Having personally cleared out the frustration factory that spewed endless aggravation through the first half of the original story left my steps lighter than anyone's.
'Archery as a hobby from my past life really shines in moments like this~.'
A snicker slipped out.
The annex massacre was wrapped up, leaving just one thing.
The Proxy Blood Fate in a month's time.
And the slave who would fight in my stead during that duel: Piel.
The protagonist of the original Vengeful Goddesses, the girl harboring the "Hero's Power" deep within her.
I planned to awaken that power far earlier than in the original.
Conveniently, this was the preparation period for the Proxy Blood Fate, when no one could lay a hand on me.
There'd never be a better opportunity.
So without a moment's hesitation, I stepped out of the estate.
The official reason: "training."
The real intent: the first step in squeezing out Piel's dormant power faster than grinding through the original story.
I heard that the moment word got out that I was leaving the estate, that kid ran straight to the family head again, throwing another tantrum.
But I'd anticipated that from the brat and already laid my insurance.
A "sweet bait" tailored perfectly to Agram's tastes, the kind he'd love.
"I plan to leave the estate for a month to conduct my training."
"For that slave named Piel?"
"Yes."
"Any chance you're using this as an excuse to run away...?"
As expected, even while loosening the surveillance, he always had to poke once.
Drawing the line: 'You're still in the palm of my hand.'
But I just smirked back.
"If you were me, with that worm who strutted around relying on her family ties sleeping soundly on her back... wouldn't you want to rip that grinning mouth first, rather than run?"
"Fair point."
One word was enough.
Agram instantly grasped that I had zero intention of fleeing.
Or rather than understanding, it seemed he'd found fresh amusement in my tone and expression.
With the family head—who'd even lifted the surveillance himself—behind me, I left the estate alongside Piel.
Our destination was, naturally, my one and only "sponsor."
"Haa... At this point, I don't even know who's really leading this organization."
"Haha. Obviously, it's our supreme Leader of the Ashen Hand and the empire's one and only princess, Princess Evelyn."
"Coming to beg every time... and smiling so shamelessly about it."
The teahouse run by the Ashen Hand.
The moment I showed up again—the guy who'd racked up mostly tabs every visit disguised as a staff member—Evelyn let out a deep sigh.
But hey, I'd pay back what I borrowed.
I'm not the type to live in anyone's debt.
So with a grin today as well, I handled what needed doing before the real training began.
After all, it wasn't me getting trained—it was Piel.
Even back in my doctor days, it was the same.
Before a major surgery, the top priority wasn't the surgeon, but the "patient."
When the patient's condition improved, impossible miracles happened all the time—I'd seen it countless times in the OR.
"Your Highness! Cocoa, coffee, and cookies, please!"
"I figured you'd head straight to the underground training room?"
"Today's a 'date' with Piel on the side."
"...A date?"
Piel, who would fight for me, had to endure hellish training worse than death for the next month.
If that didn't stir some guilt, you weren't human.
So like the attending physician soothing a patient before surgery, I decided to boost Piel's spirits before training kicked off.
The first time she tried cocoa here, Piel's eyes had sparkled like the world had transformed.
Sweet cocoa and fresh-baked cookies.
In a medieval world, sugar was a luxury, and for a slave like Piel, this taste was practically a miracle.
So naturally, I expected handing her cocoa again would bring back that beaming smile.
But.
...
...
...
Slurp—
"...Piel?"
Something was off.
Those small lips sipping the sweet cocoa.
She had to like it like before... but Piel's expression was subtly, faintly shaken somehow.
Like the sweetness no longer registered purely as sweet—a hard-to-describe "change" lingered somewhere in her eyes.
"What's wrong? Is it not tasty?"
"...No. It's delicious."
"Then why the face...?"
"...Just."
Just.
That single word tugged strangely at my heart.
Though it'd only been a little over a month with Piel, she'd always been bright and sunny in that time.
A little orange fox yipping and wagging her tail whenever I stroked her head.
But now.
Her eyes were vacant, her face expressionless, her tone... even cold.
'Puberty?'
The thought flashed, then reality hit.
What I'd done just before.
Whispering I'd spare her, then shattering Karen's limbs arrow by arrow, and finally laughing as I drove one into her throat.
Piel had seen it all.
Sure, Karen deserved death.
Knowing the original story, I knew the horrific things she'd do to Piel ten years from now.
But in this kid's eyes... how had it looked?
'Damn... Should've ended her cleanly in one shot. Or left her to the soldiers!'
Even in my past life, my personality got me labeled "talented but kinda dangerous," and colleagues avoided me.
Was Piel thinking the same now?
Anxiety gnawed at the back of my neck.
But then.
Clink.
Piel's mug trembled slightly, and right after—
"Hic... sob!"
"?!?!?!?"
Tears streamed from those orange eyes onto the teahouse table.
That quiet sobbing hit harder than any scream.
"P-Piel... why are you crying all of a sudden?"
"B-Because... it's Master's fault...!"
"Ugh! Is it because of... that maid Karen earlier—I mean, no, the one I killed so cruelly? If so, I-I'm sorry! I won't... do anything bad like that again!"
Please believe me, please!
Karen was the psycho who'd carve her instep, stick needles in her gut, and try to kill Piel in the original.
But Piel at this point didn't know that.
So I had to desperately protect this kid's "innocent little fox heart."
I yanked out my handkerchief, hands nearly shaking, and dabbed at Piel's eyes.
The image of a cruel master absolutely could not take root.
But—
Piel's response shattered my expectations entirely.
"Hic... What are you talking about, Master?"
"Huh?"
"You handled that human Karen perfectly."
"...Wait. What?"
"If you'd killed her in one go... I would've torn the corpse apart so no one could identify it."
"..."
I was speechless for a moment.
This little fox I'd thought innocent spat out something horrific so calmly.
And the real reason for her tears wasn't pity for Karen or my cruelty.
The "answer" lay elsewhere.
"Then... why were you crying?"
"Th-That's because...!"
Piel gripped her mug tight, shoulders quivering faintly.
"This whole mess... it's all because of me!"
"What?"
"If I'd just listened to Lady Syl back then... or never gotten close in the first place... or just run away faster...!"
Orange tears rolled down.
"Master wouldn't have gotten dragged into this...!"
"So you're saying this incident is all your fault, Piel?"
"Yes!! It's all... all my fault...!"
The reason Piel was crying.
It was pure guilt for "dragging me into it."
Not simple tears.
She truly believed she'd put me in danger.
And that guilt had this tiny fox bawling like the world was ending.
"Waaah... Master dummy... why protect someone worthless like me... I'm just... just a slave!"
I grabbed the handkerchief again.
"Piel. You're not just some simple slave."
"Sob...? Th-Then... what am I to you, Master?"
Wipe the tears, snot flows; wipe the snot, tears stream again.
I felt like a nanny soothing a weepy baby.
But those words were necessary to cut off her repeated self-deprecation: "I'm just a slave."
And now she asked.
What am I?
...What else? A hero.
The hero who'd slice through this world's darkness in ten years and rebuild the ravaged continent.
But right now, she was just a teary fox kit, biting her lower lip, hiccuping through sobs.
Dumping "You're the hero, so save the world" on her suddenly? She'd crumble under the pressure.
Even in the original, Piel suppressed it her whole life.
So instead of her future, I answered for the kid right in front of me.
I placed my hand on Piel's head, on her little fox ear.
It was warm.
"Piel. To me, you're the 'most precious person.'"
"...!"
"An irreplaceable... 'family' member."
Without you, the world ends, for real.
The moment I said it, Piel's crying stopped dead.
And then.
Thump—
Thump-thump-thump!
Her small body began trembling beneath my palm.
"M-Master... my body's feeling weird...!"
"Huh? Where?"
Face flushed, Piel averted her gaze and whispered.
"M-My lower belly... it feels all fluttery...!"
"Your lower belly?"
Indigestion?
Kids often get a tummy twinge when crying stops and tension releases.
Figuring it was something simple, I brushed it off.
Piel's face stayed red, her eyes dodging mine.
But after a few deep breaths, she slowly returned to her usual expression.
I stroked her little head and said.
"Don't worry. You're doing great, Piel."
Piel just nodded, but her ear tips quivered unmistakably.