CHAPTER 4 - EMPEROR, MERCHANT, SUBARU NATSUKI
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Subaru stepped forcefully upon the hard ground, his shoulders cutting through the wind as he advanced with long strides.
As they approached their destination, Subaru had leaned farther and farther out of the farrow cart, unable to contain his growing impatience. Finally, when the moment came, he’d leaped out energetically.
Voices seemed to call out around him, trying to stop him, but he paid them no heed. Pushing through, he made a beeline for the building he had set his sights on.
Bursting into the slightly larger wooden structure at the center of the village, he found the gazes of the people inside turning toward him.
And then—
“…So you’re back? That was unexpectedly fast.”
That arrogant tone came, of course, from the man wearing the pompous oni mask.
Without even acknowledging the comment, Subaru marched straight toward him. The heat of the moment propelled him, and he reached up to yank the mask off the man’s face without mercy.
The mask came away with no resistance, revealing a beautiful face beneath. Subaru grabbed the smug man by the front of his shirt, yanked him to his feet, and drew back his clenched fist—
“Wait, Subaru.”
Before he could throw the punch, his cocked right fist was seized from behind.
It was Mizelda, the tall, red-haired chief of the village, who had stopped him. Subaru started to object, trying to say something about why she shouldn’t intervene.
But before he could—
“Listen,” Mizelda said. “Not the face. I’ll allow the rest.”
“Oraaaah!!!”
Accepting Mizelda’s condition, Subaru hesitated only for a split second before slamming his fist into the man’s torso.
Perhaps expecting a punch to the face, the man staggered back with a groan when the blow landed lower.
It wasn’t enough to vent all of Subaru’s pent-up frustration, but—
“Don’t you dare think we’re even now, you piece of shit…!”
“Hmph. You are a covetous man.”
Always with a comeback.
The man bent down and picked up the mask that had fallen to the side, then put it back in place.
Subaru, breathing heavily after throwing the punch he had raced so desperately to deliver, glared at the man.
He had retraced a path that had taken three days the first time—just for the sake of that single punch.
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