PMS 05

Episode -05

The conversation ended rather blandly.

“I didn’t see anything.”

When I feigned ignorance, he simply scratched the back of his head and laughed.

“Haha, is that so!”

Honestly, there wasn’t much he could do if I decided to deny everything — unless he cracked open my skull and sent my brain off to some black magic cult to be probed.

He leaned back with a hearty laugh, stroking his beard as if organizing his thoughts.

“Either I’ve gone senile, or you haven’t fully awakened your potential yet.”

Then he waved his hand dismissively, motioning for me to leave.

“Go on, then! What a secretive fellow you are!”

I’d noticed it earlier — this was the first time I’d ever seen the Lord of the House like this.

He usually wore a face weighed down by exhaustion, but now his eyes sparkled with many colors, his twitching nose hinting at a mind brimming with thoughts.

Perhaps being the Sage of Prophecy is an incredibly tiring position.

Thinking that this was his true self made me realize the true weight of his title.

It wasn’t merely about gazing into a crystal orb and foretelling countless things — it was about bearing the burden of knowing and worrying over too many.

Just as I turned to leave at his gesture, he caught the collar of my cloak.

“Hey now, you’re really leaving just like that?”

“You told me to go.”

“The transaction isn’t over yet.”

“…Transaction?”

He snapped his fingers as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You must not know about the Prophecy Trade. When two formal prophets speak, a question must always be answered with a question. That’s the rule.”

“A Prophecy Trade?”

Of course, I had no idea.

In my past life, I hadn’t even stepped foot near the threshold of a formal prophet.

The more I listened, the more I wanted to get away.

At this rate — ignorant of everything — I wouldn’t last long in the House of Prophets.

“Yes, so now it’s your turn. I can’t end a Prophecy Trade one-sidedly, can I? Even I have my pride as the Sage of Prophecy.”

“You mean… I get to ask a question?”

“Indeed. Anything you like. If it’s equivalent to the question I asked you, I’ll answer truthfully, using the crystal.”

I fell into thought.
Not because I didn’t know what to ask —
but because there was nothing I wanted to ask.

What could I even ask when I barely know anything?

If I had to pick something, it would’ve been about his life — but wasting this kind of opportunity on that would be foolish.

After a long pause, I cautiously asked,

“Do you know anything about the Demon Realm?”

The Demon Realm —
the true threat that no one on this continent currently recognized.

If anyone might know something about the truth beyond the world, it would be the head of the House of Prophets.

But he only looked puzzled.

“Just a fairy tale.”

“I see.”

When I couldn’t hide my disappointment, he added a few words.

“To be precise, a grim fairy tale. Most such stories were made up to scare children into behaving properly.”

“I see.”

He noticed my expression and smirked slightly.

“Hm. Any reason you’d ask about the Demon Realm?”

“Does this count as part of the Prophecy Trade too?”

“It does. Answer me, and I’ll answer you again.”

There was no reason to hold back.

With nothing to lose, I decided to speak honestly.

“What if I told you I saw a vision — of an invasion from the Demon Realm? Would you believe me?”

“Hm? Was it a dream?”

“A prophecy.”

In truth, it was a prophetic dream — but explaining that would be messy, so I left it vague.

“Hm… the Demon Realm, you say…”

The Lord pulled a small crystal orb from his robe and held it out to me.

“If what you say is true, can you show it through this crystal?”

“I’ll try.”

Thunk.

I placed my hand on it without hesitation.

“…”
“…”

But the crystal showed nothing — it merely reflected the surroundings.

The Lord withdrew the orb and sighed.

“I can’t believe it without proof.”

“I understand.”

That was the third time I’d said I understand.

All I gained from this Prophecy Trade was a reputation as a strange kid.

Seeing my dejected expression, the Lord quietly patted my shoulder.

“Allen, sometimes prophecies can be wrong. Especially for inexperienced prophets. That’s why we study prophecy in the first place.”

“Yes…”

When I fell silent, he spoke again — more firmly this time, as if to comfort me.

“A prophecy is only a glimpse of a possible future! Don’t dwell on one mistaken vision.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll remember that.”

Just then, he turned his head sharply, as if sensing something.

“Ha, they’re already looking for me. Guess I won’t get to see my son today either.”

He quickly rummaged through his other sleeve and pulled something out — a piece of paper and a brooch.

From the writing, I could tell they were an official travel pass and a House of Prophets identification brooch.

Exactly what I needed right now.

I’d been wondering how I would explain this trip within the house, and how I would prove my identity outside of it. I’d nearly given up — yet here he was, handing me both.

“Allen, how do you think I knew to prepare these in advance? A prophecy?”

“…No.”

No — he had told me himself that he couldn’t see anything about my future.

He waved the brooch before my eyes.

“This was just reason — not prophecy, Allen. So don’t lose heart just because a single vision didn’t appear in the crystal.”

He pressed the two gifts into my hand.

“There are other ways to persuade people than prophecy. Bring back clear evidence. Proof itself can be a form of persuasion.”

Then he gave me a clear direction.

“When you return with that evidence, I will stand by your side — and fulfill my duty as your father.”

“Thank you. I will. …I will find it!”

I answered confidently.

There were thousands of ways in my head to uncover signs of the coming Demon invasion.

Next time I return, I’ll bring back undeniable proof — enough to shake the entire House.

Stronger than ever before.

“I believe in you, Allen — not in your prophecies, but in you.”

“Yes. Please do. I’ll prove it in the present to come.”

He couldn’t possibly believe me.

But I, after all, had seen the farthest future.

I would overturn everything this Great House of Prophets stood for —

“Because I’m a prophetic genius.”

A genius with the memories of the future.

I found myself circling the forest path again and again.

It wasn’t because I was lost — far from it.

It was because I remembered this place too well, and was deliberately retracing the steps of my clueless past self.

“They should be coming out soon.”

If I acted like the same fool I once was, I’d eventually encounter the same people — the fateful ones from the past.

Even if the timing was a bit off, they’d still be somewhere around here.

“Ah~ The forest air is so refreshing~”

I cheerfully drew my sword.

Shing! — the clean metallic ring was different from the training grounds’ dull blades.

Rotten or not, it was still noble steel — a fine sword from a noble house.

“Truly! The forest is the best! My lungs feel cleaner already!”

As I shouted again, a voice came from ahead.

“Hey there! Someone’s over there?”

A familiar voice.

I had to suppress the grin threatening to break out.

“Yes! I’m hiking! Are you merchants, by chance?”

“That’s right! We’re traveling merchants around these parts! Why don’t you come over?”

Twice was enough — I was sure.

They were the ones I’d been looking for.

These bastards… I suffered a lot because of them. Time to return the favor.

They were the cause of one of my greatest misfortunes.
And now, I could finally settle that debt.

Rustle.

Rough-looking men pushed through the underbrush and appeared before me.

“Peekaboo.”

“Surprise — we’re bandits.”

“Thought we were merchants, huh?”

The three men surrounded me with their swords raised.

“Wha—! I really thought you were merchants!”

I feigned shock and stepped back.

Ah, how nostalgic.

These were the very bandits who’d kidnapped me when I was expelled from the house.

“The gods smile upon us! A noble brat!”

I chuckled inwardly.

Sorry, but I’m no pampered noble anymore.

Now, time for payback.

Clang! Clang!

No matter if I’d once beaten one of the house’s knight escorts — facing three men with one sword was no easy task.

If one man could handle three armed opponents alone, why would knights fall so easily on the battlefield?

Sweat poured down my face as I parried their blows.

There was a reason for this seemingly futile struggle.

First, because I could no longer see the future of their blades —

I still haven’t mastered the Eightfold Sight.

And second —

They’re good practice.

I’d wanted more real combat experience anyway.

Dueling a house knight was just glorified sparring — there was no killing intent there.

Clang!

I knocked one blade aside and stepped back.

“Huff… huff…”

A brief lull.

The three bandits wiped their brows and sneered.

“Not bad, but do you really think you can beat us?”

“So what if you’ve had some lessons? Numbers win!”

“Your arms must be getting heavy now, huh?”

They were right.

I’d fought well so far, but that didn’t mean I’d survive the next exchange.

If we crossed swords again, I’d be torn apart in seconds.

In my past life, this was where I got caught and sold into slavery.

If they captured me again, history would repeat itself — months of captivity, starvation, and misery.

Back then, a merchant had happened to buy me, saving my life — but I couldn’t count on another miracle now.

Clatter.

I dropped my sword and straightened my back.

Training was over.

“Gallon. Pitu. Mosley.”

Their eyes widened.

Hearing their names from my mouth startled them.

I pointed at one of them.

“Gallon — you’ve been sleeping with Pitu’s wife.”

At once, Gallon’s face went pale.

How could I not know? I spent three months as their captive.

Their secrets, their arguments, their drunken mutterings — I remembered them all.

Sowing distrust among them would be easy.

“Am I wrong?”

He tried to deny it.

“H-how do you know my name? That’s nonsense! Don’t spout lies!”

Pitu, after recovering from his shock, scowled and shouted.

“Yeah! Don’t try to weasel your way out with dirty talk! Watch your mouth!”

“And…”

I turned to the tallest of the three — Mosley, their leader.

“Mosley. You’ve got a lump on your stomach lately, haven’t you?”

“Wha—!”

He gasped before he could stop himself.

He had been worried about a small lump on his belly. Hearing a random noble boy mention it hit him like lightning.

“You were going to ignore it, thinking it was nothing serious, weren’t you?”

“N-no!”

Right again.

I remembered his groans in the night when the lump had grown and started to hurt.

“That’s not true…!”

“Oh? Is it or isn’t it?”

The fury in Mosley’s eyes melted into fear.

“Damn it! How the hell do you know that?!”

I smiled and raised the brooch in my hand.

The one the Lord had given me — my proof of identity.

The silver crest of the House of Prophets gleamed faintly, the mana within rippling like gentle waves.

“How do I know? Because I am Allen Rasarc, the Eighth Son of the House of Prophets.”

The three went into an uproar.

“The House of Prophets? A noble prophet’s son — here?”

“Is that for real?!”

“He… he knew about my lump… and I haven’t told anyone yet…”

I spread my arms wide, grinning wickedly.

“Well then.”

With a devilish smile, I asked,

“Who wants to hear the rest of my prophecy?”