Chapter 12: “The Young Lady’s Violence”.

I arrived in Roa.

It was evening.

As the largest city in the region, Roa buzzed with life.

The first thing that caught my eye was the city wall.
A sturdy barrier, easily seven or eight meters tall, encircled the entire town.

Large gates saw a steady flow of carriages passing through.
Once inside, rows of street vendors lined the way,
and farther back stood stables and what looked like inns.

There was a waiting area of sorts, where people with luggage sat.
I wondered what that was.

“Ghislaine, do you know what that is?”

“Are you mocking me?”

Her fierce glare made me flinch.

“N-No, I just genuinely don’t know, so I thought you could tell me…”

“Ah… sorry. That’s the stagecoach waiting area.
Normally, to travel between towns, people use those,
or pay a merchant a little to ride along with their goods.”

When she saw my teary-eyed expression,
Ghislaine hurriedly explained.

After that, she pointed out each shop one by one:
“That’s a weapon shop.”
“That’s a tavern.”
“That’s the branch of some guild.”

Once we passed a certain district, the atmosphere shifted.
Adventurer-oriented stores—weapon shops, armor shops—lined the streets,
and farther in were shops catering to townsfolk.

I suppose residential streets branch off from the alleys.
Well thought-out layout.

If enemies attack from outside,
the people near the gates hold them off first,
giving the townsfolk time to flee deeper inside or to the opposite side.

In a city structured like this, naturally,
the farther you go toward the center,
the larger the houses become and the more upscale the shops.

And at the very heart stood the grandest building of all.

“That’s the lord’s manor.”

“Manor? That’s more like a castle.”

“This is a fortified city, after all.”

Roa had served as the final defensive line during the war with the demons 400 years ago—a town with proper historical credentials.
That’s why there’s a castle at the center.

Well—credentials are about all it has.
To nobles living in the royal capital,
it’s just a backwater full of vulgar adventurers.

“But coming all this way…
the young lady I’ll be tutoring must be quite high-ranking, huh?”

“Not really.”

We were already right in front of the lord’s manor.
This area is probably restricted to high-status residents only.
…Or maybe the opposite.
In a remote place like this, there simply aren’t that many high-ranking people.

Just then, the coachman gave a light nod to the gate guards
and drove straight into the manor grounds.

“So she really is the lord’s daughter.”

“No.”

“No?”

“…Only a little.”

There’s something behind those words.
I wonder what…

The carriage came to a stop.

—

Inside the manor, a butler led us to what looked like a reception room.
He gestured toward two sofas arranged facing each other.

My first interview…?

“Please, take a seat over there.”

I sat as instructed.
Ghislaine stood in the corner of the room.
A spot where she could oversee everything—classic bodyguard positioning.
In my old world I’d have thought “chuunibyou confirmed.”

“The young master will return shortly. Please wait a moment.”

The butler-like man poured something resembling black tea into fine cups
and then stood by the entrance.
I sipped the steaming liquid.
Yep—black tea.
I can’t judge quality,
but it didn’t taste bad. Probably expensive.

There was no cup prepared for Ghislaine,
so apparently only I’m being treated as a guest.

As I was thinking that, rough footsteps approached.

“Here?!”

The door burst open violently,
and in strode a burly man with bulging muscles.
He looked about fifty.
His dark-brown hair was starting to mix with white,
but he still radiated the energy of a man in his prime.

I set the cup down, stood,
bowed deeply at the waist, and introduced myself.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rudeus Greyrat.”

The man snorted loudly.

“Hmph! Doesn’t even know how to greet properly!”

“Great Lord, Young Master Rudeus has never left Buena Village.
He is still young and has not yet had the opportunity to learn proper etiquette. A little rudeness should be—”

“Silence, you!”

The butler was shouted down.

Apparently I’d done something wrong.
I’d tried to be as polite as possible,
but there must be some noble-specific protocol.

“Hmph! So Paul doesn’t even teach his own son manners!”

“I heard Father left home because he hated stuffy formalities, so perhaps he deliberately didn’t teach me.”

“Immediately making excuses! Just like Paul!”

“Father made excuses that often?”

“Of course! Every time he opened his mouth—excuses!
Wet the bed—excuses! Got in a fight—excuses! Skipped lessons—excuses!
If you’d wanted to learn etiquette you could have!
You didn’t put in the effort—that’s why you’re like this!”

I see. Fair point.
I’ve only focused on magic and swordsmanship—
never tried learning anything new.
My perspective had narrowed.
Time to reflect honestly.

“You’re right. It’s my own failing. I apologize.”

When I bowed my head,
the Great Lord (?) stomped the floor with a loud thud.

“But refusing to make excuses,
instead showing the willingness to offer whatever courtesy you can—
that attitude I approve of!
I permit you to stay in this manor!”

I don’t fully understand, but apparently I’ve been approved.

After saying only that,
the Great Lord (?) spun around and stormed out, shoulders squared.

“Who was that just now?”

I asked the butler.

“That was Sauros Boreas Greyrat, Lord of the Fittoa Region.
He is Paul-sama’s uncle.”

So that’s the lord.
Well, in a city full of adventurers,
maybe you need that level of aggression to govern…

Hm?
Greyrat… uncle…?

“So he’s my great-uncle?”

“Yes.”

I’m starting to see the picture.
Paul used connections from the family that disowned him.
Who would’ve thought his birth family was this high-ranking…
So the guy was actually a young master from a noble house?

Just then, someone else entered through the door.

“What’s this, Thomas? The door’s wide open.
And Father was in an unusually good mood—what happened?”

A man with smooth brown hair,
slender and somehow frivolous-looking.
From the “Father” reference,
he’s probably Paul’s cousin.

“Young Master. My apologies.
His Lordship just met Young Master Rudeus and appears to have taken a liking to him.”

“Hmm. Someone Father approves of…
Did we pick the wrong person after all?”

He sat down on the sofa directly opposite me.
Right—greetings.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rudeus Greyrat.”

I bowed again, same as before.

“Ah, I’m Philip Boreas Greyrat.
For noble greetings, place your right hand on your chest and incline your head slightly.
The way you did it earlier probably got you scolded, right?”

“Like this?”

I imitated Philip and raised my head.

“Yes, exactly.
But your earlier greeting was polite enough—not bad.
A craftsman who greets like that would probably win Father over.
Sit down.”

Philip plopped heavily onto the sofa.
I sat as instructed.
…Interview start.

“How much have you been told?”

“That if I teach the young lady reading, writing, arithmetic, and magic for five years,
you’ll sponsor both our tuitions to the Magic University.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“I see…”

Philip rested his chin in his hand, staring at the table in thought.

“Do you like girls?”

“Not as much as Father.”

“Good—passed.”

Huh?
That was fast.

“So far, the only teachers she’s accepted are Edna for etiquette and Ghislaine for swordsmanship.
She’s already driven away more than five others.
One of them was a man who used to teach in the royal capital.”

Just because someone taught in the capital
doesn’t mean they’re good at teaching!

“To be blunt—I’m not expecting much from you.
We’re just giving it a try because you’re Paul’s son.”

“That’s very direct.”

“What—got any confidence?”

None.
But the atmosphere doesn’t allow me to say that.

“We won’t know until I actually meet her…”

Besides—if I fail this job and run away to something else,
I can already hear Paul laughing at me:
“See? You’re still just a kid after all.”

No way.
I’m not letting a younger guy look down on me.

Hmm…

“If it looks hopeless…
maybe I should put on a little performance.”

I’ll borrow some knowledge from my previous life.
The classic pattern for taming a selfish young lady.

“A performance? What do you mean?”

“We arrange for someone in your employ to ‘kidnap’ me and the young lady.
Then I use reading/writing, arithmetic, and magic to help us escape
and return to the manor on our own.”

I explained concisely.

“I see—so you make her realize she wants to learn on her own.
Interesting.
But will it really work?”

“Better chance than being lectured by adults, I think.”

It’s a common trope in manga and anime.
A kid who hates studying learns the importance of knowledge
after getting caught in an incident.

Even if I stage it myself, who cares?

“Is that something Paul taught you?
One of his tricks for picking up girls?”

“No—Father doesn’t need tricks to get women.”

“Haha… yeah.”

Philip burst out laughing.

“Right—Paul’s always been like that.
Women flock to him without him lifting a finger.”

“Everyone I meet through Father’s introductions has already slept with him.
Ghislaine too.”

“Ahh, truly enviable.”

“I’m worried about the childhood friend I left behind in Buena Village getting targeted.”

Saying it out loud suddenly made me genuinely anxious.
Five years is a long time… she’ll be much older by then.
I don’t want to come back and find Sylphie already a mother—please no.

“Don’t worry. Paul only likes them big.”

“…I see!”

I glanced back at Ghislaine. Huge.
Zenith and Lilia were big too.
In what way?
Boobs.

“Five years should be safe.
If she’s got long-ear tribe blood, she won’t grow that much anyway.
And even Paul isn’t enough of a monster to go that far.”

Really?

“More importantly—I’m worried about my daughter being seduced by you.”

“Why worry about a seven-year-old…?”

That’s just rude!
I’m not going to do anything!
She’ll just fall for me on her own (after I arrange it).

“But according to Paul’s letter,
he sent you here because your womanizing in the village was getting out of hand.
I thought it was a joke,
but after hearing your plan… maybe it’s not entirely a lie…”

“I just didn’t have any friends besides Sylphie.”

And I was planning to slowly train my one and only friend
into an obedient little sex slave ☆
…Obviously I’m never saying that out loud.

“I see.
Well—talking here won’t get us anywhere.
Let’s have you meet my daughter.
Thomas—take him.”

Philip stood up.

And so—I was about to witness hell.

—

She was cheeky.

That was my first impression the moment I saw her.

Two years older than me.
Sharp, upturned eyes. Wavy hair.
Bright crimson—like someone dumped primary-red paint over her head.

First impression: ferocious.
She’ll probably grow into a beauty,
but most men will take one look and think “no way.”
Not even true masochists could handle this level.
She’s dangerous.
Every instinct in me screamed “stay away.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rudeus Greyrat.”

Still—I can’t just run.
I greeted her the way Philip taught me.

“Hmph!”

The moment she saw me,
she let out a snort identical to the old man’s.
Arms crossed, standing tall, glaring down at me with clear contempt.
She’s taller than me.

“What?! You’re younger than me!
No way I’m being taught by someone like you!”

Yeah—figures. High pride.

“But age doesn’t matter, right?”

“What?! You got a problem with me?!”

“But Young Lady—you can’t do the things I can, can you?”

The moment I said that—
her hair practically stood on end.
I could literally see the rage radiating off her.
Terrifying.

“Wha—! Insolent little—!
Who do you think you’re talking to?!”

“My cousin’s daughter.
Or great-uncle’s granddaughter, if you prefer.”

“What?! That doesn’t even make sense!”

Maybe my wording was off.
Just saying “relative” would’ve been clearer.

“Haven’t you heard the name Paul?”

“Of course not!”

“I see.”

Apparently his name isn’t well-known here.
Well—doesn’t matter.
Right now, conversation is key.
The pickup god said repeating dialogue events is important at the start.

Slap!

“…Huh?”

It came out of nowhere.
She suddenly raised her hand and slapped my cheek.

“Why did you hit me?”

“Because you’re younger and acting cocky!”

“I see.”

My slapped cheek burned and stung.
It hurts…
Second impression: violent.
Jeez, can’t be helped.

“Then I’ll hit back.”

“Hah?!”

Without waiting for a reply, I slapped her cheek in return.

Smack!

An unpleasant sound.

“If you hit someone—”

I was about to say “you’ll understand how it feels,”
but in my vision—
her hair standing on end, fist raised, face like a demon god.
A perfect Niou statue.

The moment that thought crossed my mind—
she punched me.
I staggered; she swept my leg.
A kick to the chest sent me sprawling.

In an instant she mounted me.
My arms pinned under her knees.
Huh—?

She roared.

“Who do you think you’re raising a hand against?!
I’ll make you regret it!”

Her fist hammer came down.

After about five hits, I somehow escaped using magic.
Legs shaking, I stood and raised my hand to counter with magic.
A wind shockwave straight to her face.

She snapped her head back—
but didn’t stop for even a second.
With a demonic expression she charged again.

The instant I saw that face, I realized my mistake.

I fled—rolling away.

That’s not the kind of young lady I know.
Not the drill-roll, acrobatic spoiled-princess type!

She’s the protagonist of a delinquent manga.

I could probably beat her senseless with magic.
But she’d never listen.
She’d come back for revenge no matter what.

Every time, I could crush her with magic again.
But her spirit would never break.

Unlike manga protagonists, she’d use every dirty trick in the book.
Dropping vases from staircases, ambushing from shadows with a wooden sword…
She’d use every possible method to deal ten times the damage back.

And when that happens—she won’t hold back.
No joke—healing magic requires chanting.
If I can’t chant, I can’t heal.

And as long as the fighting continues,
she’ll never listen to a word I say.

Forcing obedience through power
is absolutely the wrong choice this time.

I ran—pure terror in my chest.

“I’ll let you off easy today!
But if you ever do that again—you’re dead!”

From my hiding spot, her voice echoed through the manor.
Somehow—I’d escaped.

—

When I returned to Philip, he was waiting with a wry smile.

“How was it?”

“No good at all.”

I answered half in tears.
I’d nearly cried while running,
but once it was over, it felt like something that had happened before.
Not quite traumatic.

“Then—give up?”

“No way.”

I haven’t done anything yet.
I’m just taking hits for free.

“Let’s go with the plan.”

I’ll teach that beast real fear.

“Understood.”

Philip gave a signal; the butler left the room.

“Still—you really come up with interesting ideas.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.
No other tutor ever suggested something this elaborate.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“That depends on your effort.”

Fair enough.

And so—the operation was set in motion.

—

I entered the room assigned to me.

Every piece of furniture looked expensive.
A huge bed, ornately carved pieces,
beautiful curtains, a brand-new bookshelf.
If this had air conditioning and a PC,
I could live the perfect NEET life.

Nice room.
I’m a Greyrat too, after all.
Not servant quarters—
clearly a guest room.

Speaking of servants—
for some reason many of the maids were beast race.
I’d heard demons face discrimination in this country,
but maybe beast people are treated differently.

“Sigh… seriously, Paul.
What kind of place did you send me to…”

I sat heavily on the bed and clutched my throbbing head.
I chanted Healing softly to mend the injuries.

“Still—compared to back then, this is nothing.”

Getting beaten and kicked out is the same pattern.
But compared to the sheer difficulty I felt back then,
this is worlds apart.

Paul is properly supporting me.
He found me a job, a place to sleep,
and even pocket money.
He’s taking care of everything.

If my siblings back then had done even half this much—
maybe I could’ve rehabilitated.
Found a job, prepared a room, kept watch so I wouldn’t run…

No—impossible.
At 34, jobless and hopeless, I was thrown out for a reason.
Even if they’d done all that back then,
I’d just have sulked.
I probably wouldn’t even have worked reluctantly.
Being separated from my lover—my PC—
I might’ve even attempted suicide.

It’s only possible now.
Now that I’ve decided to work and earn money.
The timing is perfect—even if the method was forceful.
Maybe I misjudged Paul a little.

“But still—that was too much.”

What even was that violent creature?
In over forty years I’ve never seen anything like it.
Beyond scary—it was pure violence.
Instant water heater levels of rage.
I almost had my old traumas triggered.
Actually—I leaked a little.

“She’s the type who snaps from either side.”

Looking at her,
she’d probably explode from the “other side” too—
spewing poison everywhere.

“…No wonder the school told her not to come.”

Her punching form was practiced.
Hands used to hitting people.
Hands that had mercilessly beaten down anyone who resisted.
The process of neutralizing an opponent was far too smooth.

Can I really teach someone like that properly?

—

I discussed it with Philip.

We have someone “kidnap” us.
→ She feels helpless.
→ I rescue her.
→ She respects me and starts attending lessons obediently.

Simple plan.
I understand the basic flow.
If I can draw out the desired reaction, it should work.

But will it really?

That level of violence
far exceeded my expectations.
She barks and bites—
and if the other side fights back, she crushes them completely.
Violence aimed at total victory.

Even if she’s “kidnapped,”
she might not feel any fear at all.
If I save her, she’ll probably just say
“You’re late, you slowpoke” with a smug look.

It’s possible.
Very possible with that young lady.

Unexpected reactions are likely.
I need to prepare for every possibility.
I need to steel myself.

Because failure is not an option.

……

……

…

But the more I thought, the deeper I sank into the swamp.

“God… please let this succeed…”

In the end, I prayed.
I never believed in gods.
Like a true Japanese—I only turned to them in desperation.
Please make this work somehow…

And then I noticed—
the sacred panties had been left behind in my room.

I cried.

There is no Goddess Roxy here.