TSS 06

 A Director Who Resembles a Rat

The overseer was a middle-aged man of ordinary build. A very typical overseer appearance. If I had to compare him to a creature from nature, he looked like a “rat.”

But just because the overseer resembled a rat didn’t mean anyone would actually treat him like one. Who would dare look down on a man who came with an axe slung over his shoulder?

On top of that, the atmosphere among the tavern customers was quite ominous.

Ah, I see. They’re all in on it together.

Seeing the overseer step forward, it seemed the village had decided to handle things as a group. Men from various tables were standing up at once. Some held clubs, and those who had nothing grabbed cups instead.

But these weren’t glass cups like the ones I knew from Korea. Wooden cups here were absurdly thick. More than enough to cause a concussion.

Boeshel was sitting lazily among piles of money, mana stones, and other loot, smiling.

Even with the entire village of men seemingly mobilized, he wore an openly mocking grin.

“This isn’t a village that can be disturbed by some drifter.”

The overseer snorted—no, rather, he tried to mimic a stern voice while huffing aggressively. Ah… but he still just looked like a third-rate villain.

“These pests are no different from a plague. It is only natural to exterminate them. As overseer, I approve.”

“Exterminate” isn’t the same as killing, you know?

The overseer curled one corner of his mouth into something like a sneer.

Boeshel glanced toward me. So now he’s trying to use me as a shield just because I’m a knight?

Honestly, who’s protecting whom here? Please. You handle it yourself, sir knight.

I stood up and pulled down my hood.

“How dare you speak of exterminating whom?”

Right now, what I needed was the arrogance of a noble lady.

It didn’t suit someone born in a country that valued etiquette like Korea, but I had no choice.

I lifted my chin and slowly scanned the men in the tavern, finally fixing my gaze on the boss-level rat overseer.

As I said before, there are no human rights in this era.

“Ladies first?” That’s just something rich, comfortable people say to show off.

The men bared their teeth at me while gripping their clubs and spouting nonsense.

Without the escort knights sitting with me, they would have likely snapped my neck immediately. Honestly, even with them present, they didn’t seem to care much—simply because of the difference in numbers.

But—

Srring—.

What if swords were drawn?

As my knights all drew their blades at once, the men flinched.

Ah, yes. Swords are different.

A person who carries a sword is not “just a person.” Swords are extremely expensive. Not something serfs could afford.

In other words, it was proof of status.

And a young girl commanding men who carried swords?

That wasn’t just a difference in class. That was living in a completely different world.

And now I would show them exactly which world I belonged to.

“Tell me this. What noble house do you belong to, that you dare speak of exterminating a descendant of House Danyer?”

There couldn’t possibly be any noble house.

He was a commoner. That meant he likely didn’t even have a surname—just a single name like John or Paul.

They probably didn’t even know where “Danyer” stood in the hierarchy.

But they knew what a noble house meant. Either nobility, or close enough to it.

Someone not to be touched.

At this point, survival instincts should kick in.

Retreat—or kill us all and leave “no witnesses.”

Faced with that choice, which would they pick?

The overseer’s eyes gleamed dangerously, and the surrounding men exchanged dark looks.

They seemed inclined toward the latter.

But that wouldn’t be allowed. Because—

I deliberately grabbed the necklace I was wearing and held it up where everyone could see it.

“This is an item gifted by Count Hamilkar. I ask again. What noble house do you belong to, that you dare speak of exterminating someone of House Danyer?”

The tavern froze.

It felt as if all air had vanished. Someone let out a faint groan—so soft it echoed like thunder.

In Eastern terms, they would want to “kill all witnesses,” but I couldn’t do that.

Even if I could, a noble daughter tied to Count Hamilkar in Hamilkar’s own territory could not afford such actions.

They might want to verify whether the item was real, but they wouldn’t dare.

Besides, it was genuine. A gift he gave me for my third birthday. (Though in truth, he probably just tossed me something random.)

I had kept it precisely for moments like this.

“The necklace given by Count Hamilkar” carried weight. Especially if they didn’t know it was from when I was three.

Given that early marriage was common here, even a twelve-year-old wasn’t someone to underestimate.

Who knew what relationship I might have with an unmarried count?

To the people of this territory, the count was more frightening than gods or demons.

After all, who had even appointed that rat overseer? Count Hamilkar.

And the count had the authority to punish him if he failed in his duties.

And punishment started, at minimum, with a whipping.

“Y-you’re acquainted with the Count…?”

Those quick on the uptake slowly backed away.

With a glance from me, a servant at the door opened it. A few immediately began to flee.

Like a single leak bursting a dam, many turned and ran.

The overseer tried to flee too, but that was inconvenient.

A knight beside me gently grabbed him.

“You haven’t answered our young lady’s question yet. Since the matter isn’t resolved, you may not leave.”

Yes, exactly.

My business was just beginning.

Seeing my smile, the overseer’s face twisted. He clenched his axe nervously, bit his lip, then finally lowered his head.

He seemed to have accepted reality.

The overseer sat properly across from me in a respectful posture.

“Lady of House Danyer would not trouble the pockets of poor serfs… so what business do you have with this lowly one?”

An overseer is still not just anyone. He wasn’t a serf because he was stupid—he was a serf because he was born one. In fact, he was probably quite well-off by now.

But addressing me as “Lady of House Danyer” was bluffing. If he truly understood who my father was, he would have dropped the axe immediately.

Still, I appreciated the bluff. Maintaining composure alone in a room full of armed knights—and servants watching from a distance—was not something anyone could do.

I had met enough people in this world to recognize that.

“What is your name?”

At my question, the overseer widened his eyes slightly.

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered carefully, “Paul.”

I lifted a patterned trim along the edge of my robe.

“Good, Paul. I am Arian Danyer. I am traveling to the Temple under the order of Raymond Danyer, Chief Steward of my father’s household.”

At the word “Chief Steward,” Paul coughed violently.

I gestured, and Boeshel brought him a glass of ale. After drinking half, Paul wiped his mouth and looked at me in disbelief.

He looked like he was silently protesting—why are you, someone from a different world entirely, here doing this?

Now he no longer asked what I wanted. He only trembled.

Even if I killed one or two serfs here, it wouldn’t matter much.

Of course, Count Hamilkar would care—but not because he valued human life. Because it would damage his assets.

Especially since replacing an overseer would be troublesome.

But my father would gladly sacrifice two or three competent serfs if it benefited me.

At my level of society, serfs were property, not people.

And Paul had just tried to eliminate such “property.”

“As you know, a conflict has arisen between us.”

In situations like this, ambiguity is essential.

“But conflicts, if handled properly, can sometimes lead to better relations. Wouldn’t you agree?”

If he couldn’t understand that, he wasn’t fit to be an overseer.

Paul dropped to his knees.

“What would you have me do?”

“First, let’s see your sincerity.”

I narrowed my eyes and smiled in the most villainous way I could manage.

“I will be ascending a sacred hall in two days. If there is anything I require, prepare it all. We shall see whether this resolves our conflict.”

After Paul staggered out of the tavern, Boeshel clicked his tongue.

“He tried to harm you, my lady. And you’re just letting him go?”

“If I don’t, what then? Kill him?”

“Of course.”

The knights around him nodded eagerly.

Honestly unbelievable. No wonder people call knights nobles in front and thugs behind their backs.

“Then how are we supposed to climb the temple? Didn’t you see the snow up there? No guide, no equipment—how are you planning to go?”

Do I really need to explain this?

We spent two days dragging out the overseer for a reason. If we simply killed him out of irritation, we’d have to repeat the whole process again.

Boeshel fell silent. I scoffed and turned away.

“Boeshel. Collect the money.”

I heard him gathering it.

Without even checking, I went upstairs to a room in the tavern.

A little later, there was a knock, and Boeshel entered, handing me a leather pouch filled with the money he had won overnight.

“This is the money I won.”

He looked reluctant as he handed it over.

“Then you should’ve joined the game with your own money.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Exactly.”

I took the pouch.

Boeshel pouted.

“But the commission fee…”

“You didn’t take it?”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, then muttered, “Ah, I’m really fooling a ghost,” and left the room.

He had probably already taken his cut and was just hoping I’d give him extra.

I was planning to, actually—but he annoyed me, so not this time.