Regressor Instruction Manual

Chapter 1436. Continental War (16)

An unexpectedly embarrassing situation was unfolding, as her tear ducts suddenly burst.

I wanted to look away from her for some reason.

“...”

“...”

Among our allies, including Oksana, a few commanders seemed to be looking at us, wondering whether they had done something wrong. Even Lady Brush’s attendants looked clearly flustered.

The situation had completely frozen for everyone, as they were caught off guard by the development. I could understand her tears, but the others here had no context, so I was sure they were incredibly confused to see her trying to hold back her tears.

“Um... Miss Brush?” I said.

At this moment, the most embarrassed wasn’t the Saint nor the Holy Sword Hero. It wasn't even her attendants—it was Lady Brush. She probably didn’t think this was supposed to happen either, but there was no way to recall the tears that had already fallen.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she tried her best to hold them in, and she was trembling. She didn’t even have the energy to deliver the typical line about getting dust in her eyes.

“S-so...”

She seemed to be thinking that she had to say something, so she tried to utter any sound, but it sounded like she was choking. She instinctively knew that if she were to speak another word, she would completely break down, so she pressed her lips together, but her chin trembled uncontrollably.

“Should we postpone the schedule?” asked one of her attendants in an effort to control the situation.

However, Lady Brush stopped them with a wave of her hand. Ten minutes later, I handed her a handkerchief, and she finally regained her composure. She didn’t use it, but in the process of taking it, her emotions settled down.

I cautiously asked, “Are you alright, Miss Brush?”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry for causing such a scene,” Brush said.

“Ah, it’s fine...” I said.

“It’s a little out of the blue, but... it reminded me of the past,” she said.

“I see...”

“I thought I was okay now, but it seems there were still some lingering knots in my heart,” she added.

“...”

“...”

“Please don’t worry about it, Miss Brush,” I said.

“Thank you for understanding,” she said.

‘No, there’s nothing to understand. People have moments like this sometimes. This isn’t exactly a place to be judged over something like that... and if the decision-maker shows a bit of emotion, it actually works in my favor.’

I wasn’t expecting her to show a hopeful expression, but I was hoping a positive answer would slip from her lips. Of course, her face still clearly showed hesitation. Up until now, she probably couldn’t make a fully rational decision, so the real test was now.

'But, damn it, I can promise this: she might be able to refuse Jin Yoo, but refusing Aina Peneloti? Impossible.'

Lady Brush’s eyes met my eyes again. Of course, I didn’t look away. I also repeated that familiar expression.

‘Try refusing me, damn it. If you can refuse, then refuse. Try saying no to the request of Aina Peneloti, who sacrificed everything for everyone.’

Logically, it was right to refuse, yet she still couldn’t speak. She knew that accepting us made no sense rationally, but her lips stayed sealed.

‘Abandon... Peneloti?’

“...”

‘Are you really going to abandon her?’

It seemed silence would drag on forever, so I asked, “Is... this really difficult for you?”

“Well...”

“...”

“...”

“Hoo... then... let’s move,” Brush answered.

“What?”

“I’ll guide you to a place where you can stay,” she said.

‘I knew this would happen.’

She looked like she regretted her own words immediately after saying them.

Honestly, what could she have seen in Jin Yoo for her to trust him so deeply? No, it just looked like she hadn’t thought of her decision at all. Our allied commanders couldn’t hide their joy and cheered loudly, but the attendants Brush had brought with her revealed faces of utter disbelief at her decision.

“Of course, there will be some conditions and restrictions... Depending on the circumstances, things might become uncomfortable for you,” she added.

‘Of course. Feeling uncomfortable isn’t the problem. It’s better than sleeping in a tent, Miss Brush.’

Fortunately, she didn’t retract her decision.

“The longer you stay here, the higher the chance you’ll be discovered. Move as quickly as possible,” she warned.

“Okay. Oksana noona,” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Jin Yoo?” Oksana answered.

Oksana and the commanders moved as if they had been waiting for the signal, and even the Holy Sword Hero looked completely dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, Lady Brush was exchanging words with her attendants, probably asking why she made that decision. They didn’t seem to be defying or protesting, but their faces clearly showed that they couldn't understand her decision.

Naturally, Lady Brush herself didn’t seem to have much to say either. The only consolation was...

‘The atmosphere is surprisingly alright...’

The atmosphere was better than I had expected. Lady Brush was the founder of the new Black Rose Salon, but a person couldn't do everything alone.

If she had made such a major decision entirely on her own without consulting anyone, even if the founder’s grandfather were to appear, she wouldn’t escape criticism.

However, what I saw was different from my expectations. Everyone respected her seemingly absurd decision and followed it.

It wasn’t simply because she held absolute power within the salon; it seemed more like she was benefiting from the trust and goodwill she had built up over time.

In fact, most of the salon’s members were rescued by the original members, so their loyalty to her made perfect sense. This character of the salon was evident even within her safe haven.

The forces that had been wandering after losing their way arrived at an enormous underground tunnel, or rather, a space large enough to be called an underground city.

‘She picked a good spot.’

Instead of being wary of sudden outsiders, the salon’s members welcomed them. Children and elderly people ran barefoot to greet her.

“Miss Brush!”

“Why are you so late?”

“Play with us!”

“Sorry, I’m a little busy right now,” Brush said.

The guards exchanged brief greetings with her.

“Nothing out of the ordinary during duty,” a lady reported.

“Things are about to get busy. Sorry, everyone,” she said.

“It’s our duty. Welcome to the Black Rose Salon, everyone.”

I saw a few young ladies who were vaguely familiar to me.

“Brush, how could you do this without a single word...?”

“Sorry, but I trust you all. We’ll go over the details together shortly,” she told them.

“But... who is he...”

“...”

“...”

“He’s not from the Peneloti family. They kind of look alike, right?” Brush asked.

“Uh... yeah...”

‘You’re going to burn a hole in my face.’

Contrary to my expectations of a cramped and unpleasant space, the salon was really well-maintained. Of course, it couldn’t escape the damp, musty feel typical of underground spaces, but the soft lighting gave it a surprisingly pleasant, almost cozy air.

‘How on earth does this place operate?’

Here and there, fairly convincing dwellings were set up, with children running and playing around them. Some people were doing laundry at water barrels, and perhaps there was a mage residing nearby, while a blacksmith was busy forging things.

It felt like they had created a small underground city, and my first thought was sheer amazement.

Of course, the wall I saw through the Telescope was around.

[The 411 Noblewomen Who Fought to Defend Our Territory]

This was the salon they had protected and nurtured. Of course, it seemed no battles had taken place here, but at the very least, 411 young ladies had stayed in this place.

It felt as if I could understand everything without seeing it, as their traces were everywhere.

The young ladies created this place; they created this city.

There were mana traces here and there, and the artifacts they made and used all stood out. They wanted this place to be a safe haven for war victims. Just like at the debutante ball, they had to have set aside their dresses, rolled up their sleeves, and done what nobles ought to do.

They cleared paths, created a comfortable hiding place, treated the wounded, and established the systems in place within this small underground city.

After that, what stood before me was the result of their efforts.

They didn’t hide. They felt they had to fight, and after resolving themselves here, they went to the battlefield. Lady Paint joined as part of the allied forces, Lady Pastel as a mercenary, and Lady Brush chose to maintain the Black Rose Salon and stand with the weak.

This place was shaped that way. It didn’t appear out of nowhere. It was being used by those who needed this refuge. From the young ladies came child soldiers, from the child soldiers came widows, from the widows came parents who had lost their children, andd from the parents came soldiers fleeing the war.

The individuals within the city had changed slightly, but its purpose remained.

There was life here. Even on the deepest underground level, there was warmth that one couldn't find anywhere on the battlefield.

At first, the Holy Sword Hero was terrified, but now, he was cautiously scanning the surroundings.

‘Right, damn it. You're probably feeling something from this too. If you feel nothing upon seeing this, then you'll fail.’

His expression seemed laden with emotion. I knew he was gradually coming to recognize this continent as reality, but had the Holy Sword Hero ever truly faced those who lived here even once?

Life flowed through this place. This wasn’t merely a battlefield; it was a gathering of people who genuinely wanted to live. He looked around again, apparently struck once more by the reality before him.

“Ah...”

“Hero?”

‘Ah, why is this guy about to cry again?’

I wondered whether he had suddenly remembered the faces of those he had killed, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

As absurd as it sounded, he seemed genuinely moved by this underground city, by the atmosphere these people had created, by the soft glow of the lights, and by the proof of the young ladies’ struggle.

[The 411 Noblewomen Who Fought to Defend Our Territory]

He approached the wall, seemingly entranced. Then, he placed his hand over the densely inscribed names. For some reason, the last name on the list caught his eye.

‘Who wrote that?’

“...”

“...”

[Aina Peneloti]

“...”

“...”

[Always together.]