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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The Empire was the most technologically advanced civilization in this world.
A society that had moved beyond the simple noble-commoner divide to a more complex class structure of haves and have-nots, the bourgeoisie and the proletariat.
Naturally, it offered a wide array of entertainment for the wealthy. With enough money, one could live like a king.
“How about this, sir? A steak made from the finest Imperial cattle, paired with a 200-year-old vintage of Yggdrasil-Briton, fermented in an oak barrel made from a branch of the World Tree itself.”
“It smells divine.”
“An exceptionally rare vintage, sir. We have only a few bottles left in the entire Empire.”
Johan spent money. He spent it lavishly. It wasn’t his money, and he suspected they would give him more if he ran out.
He also knew that his spending, however extravagant, wouldn’t significantly impact the Empire’s economy. So he spent without hesitation.
And, naturally, such displays of wealth attracted unwanted attention.
“Nobody move—!”
He had already dealt with 31 pickpocketing attempts, 18 extortion attempts, and 5 instances of people bumping into him and demanding compensation for their “injuries.”
But this was the first time he’d been held at gunpoint.
As the other patrons screamed and ducked for cover, Johan looked at the robbers with amusement.
“Hand over everything you’ve got—! Unless you want to die!”
The armed robbers brandished their weapons, threatening everyone. Fortunately, they weren’t the breech-loading automatic rifles he’d seen in the palace, but flintlock pistols that took several seconds to reload.
However, they were already loaded, and a gun was a gun—the other patrons quickly placed their wallets and valuables on the table.
“What about you!? You want to die!?”
The robbers, having collected from the others, pointed their guns at Johan, who remained seated, having offered nothing.
Johan shrugged.
“I don’t have anything.”
“Then take off your clothes—!”
“I’m not into public stripping.”
“You think this is a joke—!”
The robber, losing patience, expertly reversed his pistol and swung the butt at Johan. A skilled move. Johan, seeing this, realized he was dealing with either a soldier or someone experienced in close-quarters combat.
Either way, he was trouble—Johan leaned back, dodging the blow, then, still seated, kicked the robber’s knee.
The robber stumbled, and Johan snatched the pistol from his grasp. He aimed it at the other robber, who had his gun trained on Johan.
“You little—!”
The robber fired. The flint struck the steel, igniting the gunpowder—and Johan fired at the same instant.
The two bullets collided in mid-air, ricocheting harmlessly.
While the robber stared in disbelief, Johan, moving with surprising speed, slid forward and tripped him.
He disarmed the fallen robber and pointed the gun at him. His pistol was loaded; the robber’s wasn’t.
“Surrender?”
The robber, seeing Johan’s speed, knowing he was outmatched, slowly dropped his weapon and raised his hands.
Johan watched as the police arrived and arrested the robbers, then returned to his table.
“…Excuse me.”
A beautiful woman approached him, fidgeting nervously.
Johan, sensing a potential complication, braced himself and gestured for her to join him.
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Seven witches descended upon the Empire.
They immediately drew attention, but they didn’t care.
“Location?”
“…West.”
“West, huh…”
Marguerite left one witch behind, then teleported with the others to the western edge of the Empire. The Empire was vast, and simply knowing the direction wasn’t enough.
They repeated the process, teleporting to the south, north, and other directions, triangulating Johan’s position.
After six jumps, they had a general idea of his location.
“He’s in this city?”
Marguerite, arriving in the city where Johan was located, smiled and began searching for him. Lynne, who was with her because she could create the tracking device, tilted her head.
“…Why… like this?”
“Hm? Ah—you mean, why am I not using the tracker?”
“Yes…”
“Because… if we all knew his location, I wouldn’t be able to monopolize him.”
“…Huh?”
Lynne’s eyes widened. She thought she’d misheard. But Marguerite was serious.
“Did you think we were going to share him? No. We all want him for ourselves. And this is a perfect opportunity to monopolize him—I’m not going to waste it.”
“…Why… me?”
“You? You’re not involved with him, and you can create the tracker. It’s safer for me to keep you close, rather than let you run around with the other witches. Now, find him. Quickly.”
Lynne, sensing the madness and possessiveness in Marguerite’s eyes, shuddered and reluctantly activated the tracker.
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“…You were amazing back there.”
“Was I?”
“Yes! I almost fell in love! How did you move so fast?”
Johan, hearing the woman’s question, considered his response. He cut a piece of steak and, with a playful smile, said,
“I’m ex-military.”
“Military? But soldiers can’t move that fast…”
“I served in a special unit. I’ve even been inside the Imperial Palace.”
He had served in the military, in South Korea. And he had been inside the Imperial Palace, thanks to the witches. But the woman, hearing his words, interpreted them differently, her eyes shining with excitement.
“The Imperial Palace! Are you… are you from the legendary Imperial Special Forces… the Imperial Guard!?”
“That’s classified.”
“Amazing… I’ve never met anyone from the Imperial Guard! Do they have amazing gadgets? I heard they even have flying carriages!”
The woman, her excitement growing, encouraged him to share more stories. Johan, while not revealing anything sensitive, drew inspiration from his own world.
This world had trains and electric lights. Their technology seemed to be around the late 19th or early 20th century.
So the next logical invention would be…
“They don’t have flying carriages, but they do have horseless carriages.”
“Huh? How can a carriage move without horses…? Oh, you mean trains!”
“Smaller than trains. But they could replace carriages.”
“Replace carriages…? But so many people depend on the carriage industry…”
“The Emperor probably doesn’t care. Or does he?”
The woman, hearing this, slowly placed her fork and knife down and looked at Johan, a flicker of unease in her eyes.
Johan, wondering if he had said something wrong, tilted his head, and the woman, after taking a deep breath, shook her head.
“Mr. Johan… do you have any plans tonight?”
“Not really.”
“Then… would you… like to go somewhere… private? Somewhere… away from prying eyes…?”
She blushed as she spoke. Johan, though inexperienced in such matters, understood her meaning.
He had unintentionally hit a home run. He looked at the woman, a slightly troubled expression on his face. Even by his standards, which had become incredibly high thanks to the witches, she was quite beautiful.
She was wearing makeup, concealing her flaws, but still attractive. Most men would have jumped at the opportunity, eagerly escorting her to the nearest hotel.
“I’m not interested.”
“…Excuse me?”
“I’m not here for that.”
Johan hadn’t left the cabin seeking female companionship. He was escaping the witches’ insatiable demands.
But the woman, seemingly undeterred by his rejection, became even more persistent.
“Why not? I’m not suggesting anything… untoward. I just… want to be alone with you…”
“But going to a place like that… implies—”
“—Stop.”
Johan turned, his expression hardening. Wavy, purplish hair.
A woman far more beautiful than the one before him was looking down at him.
“There you are, darling.”
Marguerite said this, leaning against him possessively.
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