Chapter 40

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 40

Chapter Title: Swift Turtle Inn Guidelines

-----------------------------------------------------------------

3,792,080.

What was this number?

It was the exact amount left in my bank account right now.

After settling every single bill the Duke had charged me, all that remained was a measly 3.79 million Tri.

With this, forget buying a house—I'd have to worry about next month's boarding fees.

Of course, there would be fresh royalty payments coming in, plus profits from the blackout curtains…

But the real problem was, I didn't want to scrape by living paycheck to paycheck!

"Haaa…"

In the end, a deep sigh rose from the core of my dantian and slipped out.

"Why do you keep sighing like that?"

Because of you.

I silently glared at the face of my detestable, exploitative boss.

One of us heartbroken over a parched account balance, the other lounging in utter leisure—this situation was beyond infuriating.

"You'll strain your eyes staring like that."

"……."

"The princess's eyes carry a soft blue hue."

Flinch.

What was that line supposed to be?

To me—musing mid-crisis on how straight the Duke's nose was, how sharp his gaze—it hit like an ambush.

I whipped my eyes away, cheeks burning, and shot back peevishly.

"…That's too much."

"Too much how?"

"Well, I mean…"

You made me broke!

But voicing that felt off—I was still getting the royal treatment at the Duke's estate, same as always.

Still, after all that grind to earn some real money, watching it vanish in a flash? Yeah, I felt wronged.

Truth was… I was a little mad at the Duke.

"Hm. Guess you don't want to say."

He leaned back with a bored shrug and added,

"No camping tonight, they say. We'll reach the village—staying at an inn."

Perk!

My full attention snapped to him the instant he finished.

"R-Really…?"

"Liam says their roast duck legs are to die for."

Wow, that sounds amazing.

All that tough, dry jerky lately had me craving something real—my soul was starving.

And it was well past lunchtime now, too.

Grrrrowl.

At the timid rumble from my stomach, the Duke's lip quirked up.

"Want me to get you one?"

I still had my precious little nest egg of 3.79 million Tri.

Meaning I could buy my own roast duck legs, thank you very much.

But I nodded meekly instead of refusing.

"Th-Thank you… I'll eat well."

He was offering to buy it—free food. Why say no?

If I framed it as clawing back the cash he'd bled me for, even better reason to accept.

Sure, it made me feel pathetically sycophantic in the process, but whatever—unavoidable.

"One condition, though."

"Sigh."

Even free dinner came with strings?

But the Duke was footing the bill, so I leaned in to hear him out.

"From the second we hit the village, follow this guideline to the letter."

"Guideline?"

"Exactly. Stick to it. That's why I had it drafted in the style of that manual from Safety Rules of the Haunted Duke's Castle—the story you're handling."

Tearfully considerate, really.

I took the stiff sheet of paper he offered without a word.

The contents read as follows.

…What the heck was this?

I scanned the guidelines, puzzled, but nodded vaguely anyway.

"…Eh, nothing too tough. I'll follow 'em."

Screw the rest—I just wanted to crash in a bed ASAP.

Four days in, heading to the Kletan Empire's capital with the Duke.

No clue why, but the teleportation circle was under repairs, forcing us onto land routes.

His fancy carriage spared my back and rear any aches, but man, it was dragging—boring, exhausting.

The romance of camping lasts a day, maybe two…

The thought of finally stretching out under a proper roof invigorated my weary body and soul.

Even the Duke's face—annoying me the whole trip—looked halfway tolerable now.

Then a knight shouted from outside.

"Traga Village!"

I yanked back the carriage's blackout curtain and peered out the window. Smoke curled lazily beyond the ridge.

We must've picked up speed; soon, the rattling wheels ground to a halt.

And just like that, I arrived—at the very village where I'd need to obey the Duke of Brail's guidelines.

"Hm?"

What was that?

Standing before the inn meant to grant me sweet repose, a chill prickled my skin—not the cozy vibe I'd hoped for.

I glanced up at the Duke on reflex, but he stared straight ahead, utterly unfazed.

"Not coming in?"

"…Ah."

Only then did I realize I'd been glued to his side, still in full escort mode since stepping down from the carriage.

"S-Sorry!"

I flailed away from him like I'd been scorched.

My cheeks, already warm, blazed hotter.

Whatever he made of it, a teasing lilt colored the Duke's voice.

"No need. Lean if you want. Though I might bill you for escort services."

"…For real?"

"Kidding."

Sure you are.

I tuned out his dead-serious tone and pushed inside the inn.

As the Duke chatted with the knights, Bonita sidled up—packing done in a flash.

"Miss, this village… the vibe's kinda creepy, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Super weird. No watchmen or anything?"

Small villages often skipped formal security—not odd.

"What else feels off?"

"No kids anywhere."

The guidelines flashed in my mind. On a hunch, I asked,

"Any elders?"

"Old folks? Huh, now that you mention it—no."

"Hmm."

I mulled the unease briefly, then remembered the Duke's troops posted up behind us and shook my head.

"Eh, with this many knights, what's the worst that could happen?"

"True! Let's head in, Miss!"

The inn sat smack in the village center—blessedly empty.

Unlike the eerie outdoors, the plump, genial owner eagerly rented the whole place cheap to the Duke's retinue.

But the second food hit the table, I slammed headfirst into guideline trouble.