One Hundred and Nineteen: Gossip Saves the World

"Have you heard? The Countess of Petershuratz and her groom... hehehe... Shh, this is a huge secret. If it hadn't been for the count's gardener who accidentally saw it, and then told his lover the maid, who let it slip while chatting privately with the cook, who mentioned it to her husband, who is the son of the count's valet, who then told the small servant at the snack shop while buying treats, who then told the proprietorship of the grocery store... this top-secret news would never have leaked. And if my cousin's aunt's nephew's second uncle's old aunt's helper maid hadn't been the church boarding school classmate of the grocery store owner's oldest cousin's second uncle's distant niece, I wouldn't have known about it either! Fortunately, I am famously tight-lipped and am only telling you alone, so you must absolutely never tell anyone else..."

Poor Lord Count. It sounded as though everyone in the entire city of Revell, except for him, already knew about the "hidden" little secret between his wife and the groom.

What was especially annoying was that this respectable, "tight-lipped" lady spoke in halting, half-finished sentences, and after all that, I still had no idea what the countess and her groom had actually done.

As a well-mannered and highly moral warrior, prying into others' personal business was certainly not something someone of my status should do. So... well... I only asked the lady six times, and upon finally confirming that she truly would not tell me the specific details about the countess and the groom, I calmly gave up the attempt—I swear, not getting a definite answer didn't make me feel even the slightest bit unsatisfied.

"...You know what? The proprietorship of the tavern across the street is a widow, but every day a man's shadow appears in the window of her second-floor room. I've been staking the place out for nearly half a year, and every single night I can see that... ahem... haha..."

What an immoral peeping Tom. Someone ought to gouge out his unruly eyeballs so he could no longer spy on a lady's private life. I felt they should probably even pull out his tongue, wrap it around his neck, and strangle him to death—who told him to stop the story right at the climax?

Wait... wouldn't that be a bit too cruel? I touched my own neck and fell into deep reflection.

I swear by the longsword in my hand that I have no interest whatsoever in these street-corner gossips, not the slightest bit of interest—ahem... Of course, undeniably, they sometimes did sound quite entertaining and could easily arouse a normal human's curiosity—well, even so, I still wasn't interested! The reason I tirelessly and unflaggingly... ah, no, I mean listlessly... inquired into this news was entirely driven by a lofty and great sense of historical responsibility and mission, backed by fully sufficient and righteous reasons.

For example—saving the world. That reason should be persuasive enough, right?

Ever since leaving the Gravel Outpost, I had followed Wagner's footsteps northward. I must say, this great genius-madman determined to benefit the world was absolute the most cunning prey I had ever seen. His movements were so covert that they were practically untraceable. On a few occasions, I had completely lost his trail and desperately wanted to give up, but encouragingly, whenever this happened, I could always dig up some clues about Wagner in nearby towns and villages—with the prerequisite that you had to find that dense and oblivious informant from a sea of people.

Gradually, I gained experience. Whenever I encountered such a predicament, I would converse with everyone within my field of vision as much as possible. When my luck was exceptionally good, they would tell me about some recent changes around here, such as rotting corpses, black shadows running about at night, terrifying screeches, and the like. Eighty percent of the time, these were traces left behind by Wagner. At other times, they would ask you to complete some unrelated tasks, and I would try my best to finish them all—because I wasn't certain whether completing these tasks would provide me with certain relevant clues. The side effect of doing this was that I gained another level over the course of those six days.

Regrettably, in the vast majority of cases, they would endlessly rattle on about petty, trivial domestic gossip and then slip away quietly just before driving you insane. This was precisely the terrible predicament I was currently facing.

Everyone hopes to find the single correct guide when they are confused and hesitant, following the right path forward, but cruel reality tells me that on the path of life, the vast majority of your explorations and attempts are futile, and it is exceedingly difficult to discover the direction forward in just one or two tries. Instead, you are quite likely to receive the correct guidance only when you are driven to a desperate corner at the very end—for instance, wandering around a small village more than twenty times, questioning the mere thirty villagers twice over each, wishing you could tie them all up and torture them for answers, asking until I was burning with anxiety and driven to the brink of madness without getting any news, only for a little brat sitting under the roadside sign at the entrance of the village playing with mud to tell you that just two days ago, a weird uncle with a sallow complexion and bloodshot eyes passed by the left fork in the road—and what made me so furious I wanted to die was that this child was the very first villager I saw when I entered the village, yet I had gone hoarse talking to everyone else and even tried communicating with the village dogs several times before I remembered to chat with him...

When faced with such a situation,弦歌雅意 would likely attribute it to visual impairment, Buddha-Smile would invariably consider it a matter of personal character, and Million-Cattle would definitely empathize and guess whether I had gotten lost at the time in that tiny mountain village consisting of only thirteen dilapidated thatched huts.

And my apt and concise evaluation of this matter was:

I am so damned unlucky!

Now, I suppose you can fully understand with what noble sentiment I was forced to inquire about this messy gossip from these gossiping women. Just as I mentioned earlier, I was gossiping purely to save the world. Of course, you don't need to show looks of shame for your slight misunderstanding of me just now; I am well aware that on the arduous journey in search of truth, trailblazers who are as brave in shouldering and faithful to their responsibilities as I am are always easily misunderstood...

Hmm? What? You're saying the blacksmith's daughter at the eastern gate got married with a big belly? And the child in her belly isn't even the groom's? What is going on here? Tell me in more detail... Hey, whose child is it really? Her cousin or that merchant's apprentice? Dammit, stop being so evasive... Hmph. If you won't make it clear, forget it, I have zero interest in this matter anyway...

...Not a shred of interest! I had a formal suit custom-made, and just as I stepped outside, I was knocked down by a homeless man. The man was both filthy and crude, and he smelled like a large chunk of rotting meat. He ruined a huge patch of my clothes, covered in grease and blood. The tailor shop owner said it could be altered by today, could you go pick it up for me, handsome gentleman? I'm almost going to be late for tonight's ball." A middle-aged woman with brown hair tied into a large bun, slightly plump, with a mole beside her lip and holding a small folding fan, suddenly intercepted me and spoke with an anxious expression. The name floating above her head read "Woman Anxious to Attend the Ball."

A man smelling of rotting meat? And leaving grease and blood stains? My heart stirred slightly: this sounded very much like a clue regarding Wagner.

Thanks to the omnipresent gossip, thanks to the persevering gossiping spirit. My own personal experience was enough to become ironclad historical proof: gossip could actually save the world, too.

"Where did you meet him? Did you see which way he went?" I immediately pursued the question.

"Oh god, it's terrible, how can I go to the ball without a new formal suit? This is practically the end of the world." The woman completely ignored my question, covering her face with her hands and screaming hysterically.

"Madam, that man is dangerous, he might bring about devastating..." I was burning with anxiety, emphasizing the severity of the matter in a grave tone.

"Oh god, it's terrible, how can I go to the ball without a new formal suit? This is practically the end of the world..." The woman turned a deaf ear to my words.

"...Madam, you don't understand, this matter is very important, the entire continent is facing..." Having finally gotten news of Wagner, I wished I could instantly drag him... or it?... out of whatever ditch it was hiding in, and I had no heart left to go fetch any damn formal suit for this woman. My viscera were burning with anxiety, and I tried hard to use rational methods to persuade the woman to tell me Wagner's whereabouts as soon as possible, and then find someone else to fetch her clothes.

"Oh god, it's terrible, how can I go to the ball without a new formal suit? This is practically the end of the world..." The woman's attitude was as hard as an ancient glacier standing eternal on the polar plateau, showing no signs of melting.

"Hah..." I sucked a massive breath into my chest, the airflow rushing through my trachea bringing a cool sensation that kept me from doing anything violent to this unreasonable old hag out of sheer overheated temper, "...What do I have to say for you to understand? If you don't tell me his whereabouts immediately, it might truly be the end of the world. The end of the world..."

"Oh god. It's terrible, how can I go to the ball without a new formal suit? This is practically..."

"Fine, fine, no problem, you win, I'll go, won't I? I'll go to that wretched tailor shop right now to get that damned formal suit for you, you foolish woman, so you can wear it to that godforsaken ball. Madwoman, you crazy woman..." Facing the woman's tenacity like a mountain range, my spirit finally collapsed in total defeat, and I had to risk the world being destroyed to first fetch a garment that used precious little fabric yet was expensive enough to rival a full set of chainmail, purely to let her expose all her rolls of fat in a crowded venue.

I don't know if you've ever had this feeling: most of the time, you simply cannot comprehend the outlook on life and values of the female intelligent creatures beside you. Right now, for instance, in this woman's eyes, the survival of the entire world was far less urgent and important than a brand-new backless dress, even though her wardrobe was probably already piled high with these flashy, single-wear textile novelties, and even though this dress might not suit her at all. Sometimes I suspect that the earliest female creatures in this world originated from another distant spacetime plane—perhaps even further away than the homeland of the Void-Crossers—and the reason the gods let them come here was entirely to make men's wills stronger...

Who knows?

Before leaving, I hurled my curses at the woman's face using the most vicious language I could possibly imagine:

"You bloated fat old hag!"

She remained expressionless... I preferred to think she was so ashamed and angry that she was speechless, because thinking that made me feel slightly more balanced inside.

Alright, to briefly summarize my current predicament: I was in a noisy city riddled with rumors and scandals, my ears filled with the various and vague gossip of aunts and uncles, being forced by a stupid woman who thought a new piece of clothing was far more important than the survival of the continent to fetch a dress she was destined not to fit into, while still having to carve out a little time amidst this busy schedule to risk my life saving this fragile world. I truly could not imagine any predicament worse than this.

"Jeff..." Suddenly, a crisp female voice rang out from my rear left. At first, I wasn't sure if that voice was calling me, but during my moment of hesitation, the voice called out my full name even more clearly: "Jeffritz Kidd, over here, we're over here..."

When I turned my head, a stunning figure entered my sight: she was a human female wearing a "Shining Crown" inlaid with dazzling gemstones of various colors, dressed in a sky-blue "Water Sprite's Ripple" robe, holding a two-handed walnut staff embedded with purple crystals known as "The Archmage's Protector," and draped all over in glittering, exorbitantly expensive trinkets. You had to admit, she was a very pretty human female, and her attire was gorgeously opulent enough to turn heads, but looking at her charming smile, you could always instinctively sense a decadent nouveau riche vibe. The concerned and tender gaze she cast your way always made one involuntarily think of a butcher's joy at the upcoming harvest as they watched the piglets they raised grow fatter day by day.

"Jeffritz Kidd, you still have an outstanding debt of four hundred and seventy-six gold coins, four silver coins, and sixty-two coppers on the guild's ledger, and I've noted every single one!" The woman shouted as excitedly as if she had just picked up a wallet upon seeing me—based on my understanding, her first sentence when greeting every guild member was always like this.

Well, let me correct that. The worst predicament I could possibly imagine would be: being in a noisy city riddled with rumors and scandals, your ears filled with the various and vague gossip of aunts and uncles, being forced by a stupid woman who thought a new piece of clothing was far more important than the survival of the continent to fetch a dress she was destined not to fit into, while still having to carve out a little time amidst this busy schedule to risk my life saving this fragile world, and none of this compared to standing right next to our Guild Master, the ferocious wealth-collector and hoarder, the greedy dragon-princess-in-human-form Lady Viena, completely empty-handed and destitute.

Wagner that idiot was moving far too slowly; shouldn't he have destroyed this world a bit sooner?

Watching the Guild Master approach step by step through the crowd, I secretly thought to myself...