Chapter 9: A Chaotic Escape and a Baffling Proposal

The guards surrounding Glot exchanged uneasy glances. Yet, ultimately, they did not defy his command, descending into the fray to apprehend their target.

Gern had barely settled back into her seat, her rear still unacquainted with its warmth, when several burly figures materialized beside her.

Each man stood over six feet tall, their physiques exceptionally imposing and robust.

Gern eyed them with a puzzled expression. Before she could utter a single query, the men surged forward.

“Quickly, everyone, make way! We’re apprehending a thief!”

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’

A shrill alarm blared in Gern’s mind. Among these men were more than a few second-tier knights; in a one-on-one skirmish, Gern felt confident in her ability to best any of them.

Yet, they weren’t interested in a fair duel; they intended a mob assault, leaving her no feasible way to counter.

Gern swiftly channeled the qi and blood energy within her, repelling the knights who had closed in, before seizing a fleeting opportunity to launch herself free.

“Quick! The lad ran this way!”

“Everyone, help catch the thief! The one in rough linen clothes is a clothes pilferer!”

The bewildered spectators, upon hearing the accusation of Gern’s thievery, instantly sprang into action. Their prior reverence for Gern, who had single-handedly repelled a first-tier knight, swiftly devolved into a chorus of disgust and vitriol.

“Hmph, so the lad’s a thief after all.”

“I finally understand how she awakened! It seems she gained her powers by pilfering from others.”

“And I’d wager all her martial skills and movement techniques were stolen as well.”

In that instant, the crowd’s fury ignited, and they surged forward, encircling Gern.

‘Damn it! This is getting out of hand!’

With no other recourse, Gern brazenly stripped off her linen garments in full view of the crowd, then snatched a somewhat familiar-looking pink jacket from an adjacent seat before darting away.

“The one in pink is the thief! Catch the thief!”

Gern didn’t know who had shouted it, but she was grateful to their ancestors for eight generations for the diversion.

Witnessing the ever-growing throng around her, Gern had no choice but to publicly unleash her Netherworld Steps, and a sinister, malevolent power instantly radiated outwards.

All present, sensing this malevolent aura, furrowed their brows in unison. The power bore an uncanny resemblance to the cultivation techniques practiced by the followers of the Heretic God Cult.

From the stands, Glot watched Gern execute the technique, and promptly spewed out the water he had just sipped, his face a mask of utter disbelief.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is disastrous, utterly disastrous.’

A cold sweat instantly beaded on Glot’s forehead and trickled down. It seemed he had, once again, inadvertently exposed a conspiracy of the Heretic God Cult.

In the past, this would have been an undeniable boon. But now, the crux of the matter was that he, too, had been unwillingly drawn into the Heretic God Cult’s nefarious schemes.

What was he to do now? The mere thought of that particular individual from the Heretic God Cult sent shivers down his spine. If that person were to discover this, Glot knew, he would surely be eliminated.

Glot could no longer remain seated. He had to quickly recall his men and then personally go to Gern to offer his sincerest apologies.

‘Perhaps she had a fondness for fine garments? Glot was certainly no stranger to wealth; he would offer her whatever sum she desired.’

****

Finally free from her pursuers, Gern leaned against a mud wall, gasping for breath. That had been a close call; she had nearly been apprehended.

Fortunately, her pursuers had since retreated. Gern was unaware of the specific reason, but it was, without a doubt, a favorable turn of events for her.

Just then, the soft scuff of footsteps broke the silence. The pink-haired Eliza, having just emerged from a small building, found herself staring at Gern, who was inexplicably clad in her own clothes.

As their eyes locked, a peculiar tension permeated the air. Eliza’s lips twitched, and a surge of incandescent fury welled within her.

“Pervert!”

With a swift whoosh, Eliza’s palm arced towards Gern’s face. Still reeling slightly from her recent escape, Gern reacted instantly, seizing the girl’s delicate wrist mid-swing.

“You! Let go of me!”

Gern gazed at the girl before her, her eyes clouded with perplexity. She recalled Eliza not being among her earlier pursuers, yet Gern couldn’t be entirely certain. Beneath her, her feet subtly shifted into the preparatory stance for Netherworld Steps, poised for an immediate retreat.

“Why are you trying to hit me?”

“Pervert!”

Eliza glared daggers at Gern, and her other hand shot out, attempting another strike, only to be effortlessly caught by Gern once more.

Realizing she was no match for Gern, Eliza’s anger intensified, her eyes blazing. Suddenly, delicate pink petals materialized around her, fluttering like butterflies caught in a breeze.

“Wait, don’t strike yet. Answer my question first. How exactly am I a pervert?”

“If you’re not a pervert, why were you leaning against the wall outside the women’s restroom? And more importantly, why are you wearing my clothes?”

‘Huh?’

Gern was utterly bewildered. No wonder she had felt a strange sense of familiarity when she’d snatched the outfit moments ago.

It belonged to the girl standing before her. This was, indeed, a profound misunderstanding.

Just as Gern was about to offer an explanation, Eliza’s voice cut her off.

“Pervert, release me at once! If you don’t, I’ll scream for help! Help! There’s a pervert here!”

Gern’s lips twitched. She had only just eluded her pursuers; it would be disastrous if Eliza’s shouts brought them back.

Almost instinctively, Gern shoved Eliza to the ground, her entire body pressing down upon her. She then freed an arm to clamp over Eliza’s mouth, stifling her cries to mere muffled whimpers.

Not far off, Glot, who had just arrived, witnessed the scene unfold. From his vantage point, the two appeared to be nothing more than a pair of lovers engaged in playful banter.

Glot felt a strange familiarity with the girl pinned beneath Gern. Suddenly, it dawned on him: she was the very person his father had chosen as his prospective bride for a political marriage.

Miss Sina of the Jesse family. Though Sina herself had not consented, the patriarch of the Jesse family had.

Witnessing this sight, Glot felt a distinct flush of green rise to his face.

Coincidentally, at that precise moment, Eliza spotted Glot standing frozen in the distance. Her pitiful gaze, wide and desperate, seemed to implore him for rescue.

Glot’s temper flared instantly. He strode swiftly towards the pair, tossing the clothes he held directly onto Eliza’s face, intending to put the distressing sight out of his mind.

“My sincerest apologies, Big Brother. I deeply regret my earlier transgressions. These are but a humble token of my goodwill; I implore you to accept them.”

‘Huh?’

Gern glanced at Glot, then at the lavishly styled garments scattered on the ground, feeling a strange itch of confusion in her mind.

‘What in the world is happening? She distinctly remembered this man before her was the young master who had been relentlessly pursuing her. What madness had seized him now?’

Glot then leaned closer to Gern, whispering softly into her ear.

“Big Brother, this is my fiancée. Since you fancy her, consider our engagement null and void. From this moment forth, Miss Sina is yours.”

Gern felt as though her brain had been violently broadsided by a dump truck, completely unable to process the bewildering turn of events.

Her body instinctively recoiled from Eliza, and she stared at Glot with a profoundly strange expression.

“You…”

“Ah, Big Brother, just call me Glot. It was my mistake; I ruined your plans. But it’s alright, I still have an opportunity to infiltrate Theoviga Academy. So, I humbly ask, sir, if you might grant me a chance to atone for my misdeeds?”

Gern wanted to speak, but the current bizarre situation had utterly fried her brain’s “CPU.” She desperately needed to untangle the convoluted logic of it all.

‘Gern: Brainstorming in progress.’