Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator

“Thank you for the invitation, sir.”

Karik's face, which Allen hadn’t seen in a month, was plumper than before. His face was so red that it alone could tell Allen how Karik was doing.

“It’s nothing. Please, take a seat.”

Allen shook his head, savoring his food. It just happened to be mealtime—there was no particular intention behind it.

“I’ve been so busy lately—anyhow, how are things going?”

“Yes, sir. The situation was easy to resolve because of you. Thank you."

He bowed his head towards Allen with his bright face.

'He looks more relaxed than he used to.'

Allen refuted his claim modestly:

“What did I do? It's all thanks to your skill, choosing the best stocks, isn't it?”

“You’re too kind, sir. Hahaha."

Karik didn’t forget the great benefits he received from staying in Allen's favor. Nor did he forget that he wasn’t promised a position on Allen’s good side. 

“But if you forget the favor and turn your back, you’d certainly be no better than an animal, would you?”

The reason why they could even have a meal together, as they were now, was because of Allen‘s favor.

“I would like to express my sincere gratitude, so I would appreciate it if you could check all of it over later.”

So he hoped to maintain a good relationship with Allen in the future.

‘He’ll be the one to inherit his family’s power.’

By no means could Karik afford to lose contact with such a person. So, naturally, wouldn’t there be times when Allen may need some extra help? Or times when he may want to obtain something in private.

Karik didn’t quite want to hold such an integral position, though.

‘Just… It’d be enough for him to recognize me as someone he could call if he needed anything.’

Even if he were being used as a money bag, it was beneficial to have been able to make a connection with the person who would become the duke.

A duke is still a duke, even if in a little decline at the moment. Or maybe… maybe Sir Allen could revive the dukedom when he takes over.

"Alright, I'll take a look myself later. …But it seems as though you’ve familiarized yourself with the local table etiquette.”

Table manners vary from region to region.

Karik’s accent was a little different from that of the natives, so Allen tried to convince him that he had bad table manners, even if it wasn’t true. Unlike his proficient table manners, Karik's accent was a little different from the standard Reeve Kingdom accent. Allen could tell from the excess air he exhaled when pronouncing certain consonants—a characteristic from those of the neighboring Kazak Kingdom.

"Yes, I'm planning to settle down here in the future. I’ve tried to prepare in advance."

"Your accent—it seems to have hints of Kazak, no?"

"That’s… Haha."

He replied with an awkward smile.

"My father took care of me when I was young. That's how my accent became mixed. Of course, I'm trying to fix it."

"Is that so?"

"Habits are difficult to break. Hahaha."

* * *

* * * 

So, Allen continued his meal, chatting with Karik.

"Where did you go up after the Thanksgiving festival? You had permission to travel through the gates, so you had many choices, certainly.”

"I went to a city down west."

"Down west… Towards Garvia?"

"A little further south of Garvia—Bergen."

Beginning with a light atmosphere and shared greetings, their meal lasted over 30 minutes, ending only when the last bite had been consumed. When the conversation came to a natural lull, Allen took his chance:

"By the way, Mr. Karik…"

Karik, too, had realized that the time had come, and straightened his posture.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember the last thing I said?"

Allen's tone remained the same—calm, as though asking a routine question.

But Karik felt that something had changed.

Allen altered neither his language, expression, or tone; the atmosphere had shifted with but a single word.

It was a skill that his father had told him many times he must acquire in his path to find success.

‘…I can’t even do that yet.’

Karik cleared his throat and took a breath. Why had he gone to the western city in the first place?

It was because he heard that the merchant group Sir Allen was looking for was there. If it weren't for that, Karik would have continued en route towards Kazak—from where his roots lay.

"Yes, of course I remember."

"Shall I expect good news?”

"Yes, of course."

"Good."

The atmosphere that unnerved Karik quickly washed away as Allen nodded and smiled.

"I was getting a little bit scared. I thought you might ask me to give you more time."

“Of course not, sir.”

Allen laughed, chatting with him in a playful tone. But Karik, feeling as though it were some sort of test or warning to him, couldn't help but feel threatened.

"Rather, they asked to build a connection with you, sir."

"The Daike merchants?"

"Yes, it's widespread news around those parts… that the eldest son of the merchant group’s leader has been cursed."

"Cursed?"

Allen asked, recalling the banshee tears stored in a corner of his study.

"Yes, because of that, I’ve been buying curse-related paraphernalia. The situation is really not good.”

"…Explain it in detail.”

"So, rumor has it that the son of the group’s leader—"

Karik gulped, like he was afraid others were listening in.

"—was cursed by a witch."

* * *

The Daike merchant group.

A well known and well established merchant group within the county.

It’s the group that supplies leathers and herbs sourced from the Michellant Mountains—surrounding the western and northern counties—throughout the kingdom.

According to Allen’s memory, they’d eventually succeed in opening direct trade deals with the elves in the future, becoming a powerful trading group interacting with other countries.

But he knew nothing more about them.

Naturally.

He didn't have the time to worry about that in his previous life. At most, they met so he could borrow money or acquire magic books.

But even if he didn't want to hear it, he had no choice but to know that the leader’s son was cursed.

'…Soned, leader of the Daike merchant group.'

Before his regression, Allen remembered a portrait of a young man hanging in the drawing room of Soned's mansion—which Allen had visited while coming for a purchase. It was common information that it was a portrait of Soned’s son who’d died of a curse. So, Allen, after visiting it several times, naturally came to know this.

Therefore, Allen planned to meet him right after his regression. Using Karik's connections, he deliberately prepared a meeting and waited for the right time.

‘The banshee tears.’

He took the potion, half so he could pay off the debt he owed him from his previous life, and half so he could make a connection with him through which he could carry out some plans.

‘I only thought as far up as Julius said he was going to Garvia, so I didn’t think about this, but…’

The curse came even though he’d defeated the dark sorcerer, making his to-be plan a little simpler.

"Sir Allen, is the tea not to your liking?"

Soned asked in a cautious tone, trying not to show his nervous expression as Allen held a sip of Soned’s tea in his mouth without swallowing.

Allen quickly drank the tea sitting in his mouth and replied as if nothing were strange.

"No, the tea just had such a deep flavor, so I wanted to taste it for a while.”

"Is that so?"

Sorned nodded in relief at Allen’s reply.

Allen was able to meet Soned, the Daike merchant group’s leader, following Karik's guidance. Soned had welcomed him with a display of intense emotion, seemingly like he didn't think it possible to meet with Allen so quickly.

"So, why did you want to see me?"

"I understand that you, sir, are the heir to the duke."

"That's right.”

"Additionally, you are the legitimate heir to Elle Round, the guardian of the Michellant Mountains, the spokesman of all intellectuals, and the—”

"Cut to the chase."

Allen knew what Soned wanted.

‘Something to lift the curse.’

Otherwise, there would be no way that a top-tier merchant would bow his head so suddenly.

"I need something to lift a curse."

At Allen's command, Soned stopped beating around the bush and mentioned what it was that he wanted straightforwardly.

"Is it for your son, who was cursed by a witch?"

"…That’s correct."

Soned’s expression turned dark at Allen’s query. He clenched his teeth and continued:

“I heard that you may be in possession of something fit to cleanse him.”

“Yes, I have a few ancient artifacts passed down through generations in my family.”

“Th-then…!”

Soned immediately bowed his head, entirely uncaring of his pride.

“I’d like to please purchase that item from you. If it’s priceless, then I’ll use just enough to lift the curse and return it to you, sir. I’ll pay the proper price.”

His desperate face showed no hesitation.

“It’ll be just this once. Please, please help me, sir.”

“Hm…”

Allen couldn’t tell if it was really Soned’s paternal instinct—his devotion to his child—or if it was an act just to get Allen’s sympathy.

‘Thinking back to my past life, it's probably the former, but…’

Allen nodded briefly as if he didn’t have any qualms.

"Alright, if you were to pay a fair price, there's no reason why we can't make a deal."

"Then—!"

"But…"

“…!!”

"Unfortunately, the duke's things are not something I can simply trade on my own."

As Allen shook his head quietly, Soned's face turned dark.

"W-well, then, if the duke gives his blessings…"

"If he does, it’ll be possible. But can your son hold out until then?"

"I…"

Soned, impatient to solve this issue, hadn’t had the chance to think that far.

'Maybe even that, too, is part of his act.'

Allen looked deeply troubled and soon opened his mouth, like he’d needed to make up his mind before doing so.

"Mr. Soned, there is still a way."

"Wh-what is it?”

Soned looked up at him with hopeful eyes as Allen opened his mouth to speak:

"Inellia."

At his signal, Inellia handed him a fancy-looking box.

"What’s this?

Allen opened the box silently, revealing a potion inside emitting a hazy purple color, contained in a transparent bottle.

"It can’t be.”

Hoping that he was right, he carefully put the name of the leap into his mouth.

"Are those… banshee tears?"

"Yes."

"It can lift the curse?”

"Also correct."

When Allen nodded, Soned began to speak with an urgent look:

“Sir, please let me buy that potion. I'll pay you as much as you want. So, please…”

Allen shook his head quietly.

How could Soned, a successful merchant, not know the meaning of Allen's actions? He gave the answer that Allen would’ve seemed to have been after without delay.

"No matter how much its true value is, I’ll pay twice that. If even that is not enough, then just half a bottle, no, even one sip is enough, so, please…”

Banshee tears were powerful, able to lift almost any curse. Even one sip was, typically, enough. 

Curses, because of their rarity and high speed of mortality of their victims, were dangerous. Because of this, Soned would’ve spent a huge amount of money to find something to lift the curse afflicting his son, no matter the cost.

Allen did not respond to Soned's answer as if dissatisfied. Soned clenched his teeth and prepared himself to raise his reward further.

"I’m truly moved by your actions, sir, of being willing to possibly take a loss for me. It must have been a difficult decision, so, to be helpful, perhaps I could award a small monthly stipend…”

When Allen once again failed to reply, Soned cursed inside.

'Who the hell does this man think he is…!’

But what else could he do? Their roles in the situation were clear. He was forced to make a decision.

"I would like to thank you for your deep determination to help my son. Perhaps I could offer you a share of the Daike merchant group…”

Allen shook his head once more, making his opponent go crazy.

The item’s price in full, a pick of any of Soned’s valuable treasures, monthly offerings, and even a share of his merchant group?

What more could Allen even want!

Soned's body trembled at Allen's high-handedness. If it weren’t for the sake of his son's life, he would have instantly jumped from his seat out of shame.

Rumor had it that Allen, alone, had put a stop to the sinister plans of thieves—fearing they’d ruin the harvest festival, though Soned wasn’t the kind to give too much credibility to rumors.

How could that same person be so greedy?

Allen smiled faintly, like he knew what it was that Soned was thinking, and began to answer a beat late.

“I’ll pledge my loyalty to you and your family for generations—”

"I'll just give it to you."

“—to come… Excuse me?”

Allen, smiling as if he’d seen something funny, replied to his stunned partner.

"How could I put a price on saving a person's life?"

"Then will you accept a gift or a share in—”

"I don't need it."

Allen's answer left him speechless for a moment.

‘It’s for my own benefit, and that of my public image.’

If Allen decided to be greedy here, his reputation would only fall—which wouldn’t be good. The reason behind his attitude so far was simple:

'To bring the merchant group under me in the future.'

Would Soned have accepted if Allen asked him to come under him from the beginning? Allen was lucky that Soned hadn’t begun cussing at him for playing around. But, by showing good intention, he’ll begin to admire Allen—and, perhaps, Soned would give him his consideration again.

‘That’s the kind of person Soned is.’

If not, how many times would Allen—who’d been deprived of his position of successor—be willing to lend it to Soned thinking that he would be likely to repay Allen the money? 

Too many times to count.

‘Even if I had confidence that I could get it from my family…’

Allen may not have been a merchant, and may have been naive, but he knew how loyalty was to be kept.

That's why Allen waited for Soned to raise the offer before showing good faith when he could no longer put up with it.

'To bring him under me.'

It was more profitable to earn a man’s trust paid for with a moment's patience, than to earn a bit of gold paid for with a moment's greed.

"How could I be greedy with a father simply trying to save his son from a curse?"

"…Sir."

Soned was ashamed of himself for having momentarily misunderstood Allen.

Inellia and Linbelle, who’d been quietly standing behind Allen, nodded proudly—and Vestla, hanging on Allen's waist, shed a tear in agreement.

"Thank you so, so much. And also… I'll still pay you a proper price—because I want to.” 

"…No, I couldn't possibly."

"Then please choose any item you want from the merchant group’s vaults. Anything you’d like."

When Allen delayed answering, Soned asked again:

"…I couldn’t accept it without giving anything in turn."

"Then I’ll oblige."

He bowed his head with an emotional face.

'…There's something he could help me with personally,’

With his intuition, developed over decades, he could feel that he wanted something from him.

'But…’

He thought it’d be good to maintain a good relationship with the young lord, or at least, to have a relationship closer than before.

Soned stopped thinking and quickly opened his mouth, wondering if Allen needed anything else.

"Is there anything else you need, sir?"

"No, I don't… Oh, yes, there is one thing."

"What is it?”

As Soned replied in a tone that seemed to expect anything, Allen answered:

"Could I personally inspect the curse that your son has been afflicted by? I, too, practice magic, so I’d like to check it out.”

Soned thought out the intention behind his words.

‘What exactly does Sir Allen want?’

His seemingly considerate attitude wasn’t overly so. It couldn't be regarded as a one-sided favor. But there was no possible reason for him to be treating Soned so well.

But regardless of the complex thinking going on in his mind, Soned looked back at Allen, who, with the same practiced smile, replied with an air of affability on his face:

"Who knows, maybe I could be of a little help?”