Chapter 82: Not Working Really Does Make a Person Younger!

“Boss, how many days of annual leave have I accumulated over these past few years? Let me take them all at once.”

Młynar was, for once, not wearing his usual drab, soul-crushing corporate shirt. Instead, he had donned a suit of armor that had clearly seen better days. The heavy metal plates carried the faint scent of old oil and dried blood. Its shoulder guards were engraved with crude, jagged patterns in the traditional Sarkaz style, forming a stark and almost violent contrast to the exquisite, pristine Nearl family crest stamped across his gauntlets. The rough carvings looked as though they had been etched stroke by stroke by an amateur, applied with a clumsy yet painstaking care that bordered on reverence.

Every groove betrayed the quiet, desperate effort of the original carver, someone who had secretly been trying to outdo the oppressive weight of his own family crest.

The moment Młynar strapped on that armor, his spine straightened subconsciously. The heavy slump of the overworked salaryman vanished. When he stood silently in the middle of the room, his colleagues suddenly realized that compared to his towering Kuranta physique, the office he had occupied for so many years was suffocatingly cramped.

His hands, which usually hung awkwardly at his sides or shuffled through endless stacks of paperwork, finally had a place to belong. They rested casually on the hilt of his sword. His entire demeanor shifted, transforming into a drawn blade ready to sever throats at a moment’s notice.

“You shouldn’t be blocking my leave request, should you?” Młynar asked. His expression was completely bland as he looked down from above at his supervisor, who was currently slumped deep into his ergonomic chair.

This was the same boss who usually strutted around the floor, haughtily lecturing Młynar about corporate cooperation and aligning granularities. Right now, the man was completely limp, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, entirely incapable of uttering a single syllable.

Młynar waited patiently for a few minutes. The silence in the office stretched out, heavy and suffocating. Seeing that the trembling man showed absolutely no signs of recovering his voice, the Kuranta simply reached across the desk. He picked up the official company seal, stamped the paperwork himself, forged the signature himself, and officially approved his own full twenty-one days of paid leave.

It was the time off he had carefully saved up for three grueling years.

Młynar folded the copy and tucked it into his breastplate, leaving the original on the desk of his nearly fainting superior. In a remarkably good mood, he casually flashed the pommel of his sword to his boss—ah, no, his former boss.

“Boss, I am going to find the person I truly swore allegiance to. The kind of superior to whom I have actually performed a knight’s salute.”

He certainly would never say such sentimental things to the Doctor’s face, but this sniveling coward of a manager wouldn’t dare repeat a single word of this interaction to anyone alive. Młynar could finally vent the suffocating words that had been bottled up inside his chest for years.

No wonder villains always died from talking too much. After remaining silent and compliant for so long, even he felt like he was rotting away inside a shell.

“When I first heard the news that he had woken up, my immediate reaction was that I shouldn’t have stayed at this miserable company. These years of peace have allowed my sword to rust.” Młynar closed his eyes, the fragmented memories of the past flashing behind his eyelids.

“But when he finally returned to Kazimierz, standing right by his side was Margaret, that towering Wendigo, and a Tier 4 War Knight. There was simply no room left for me. It was only when they jokingly called me ‘Spare-parts Młynar’ that I suddenly realized I hadn’t ever left that tower either.”

Theresa had once said she wanted to build a tower that reached the very heavens, a monument to eliminate all the senseless barriers and suffering across this blighted land. She wanted a tower belonging to the people, one that every oppressed soul could see and climb, no matter where they were born.

In his memory, the Doctor had just smiled, blinked those tired eyes, patted Młynar on the shoulder, and said, ‘Me? I have no opinion, and I don’t really care. Little Młynar, what’s your opinion?’The Młynar of back then must have impatiently nudged the tactician with his elbow and scoffed… what was it he said? Was it’I have no opinion either’?

He couldn’t quite remember the exact words anymore. The passage of time had blurred the edges of his youth.

In the end, among the twelve people who accompanied the Doctor in making that monumental decision, two had opposed it, six were in favor, and four had abstained. And just like that, they had begun their long, bloody journey.

“I am going back. Although my strength might not be exactly what it used to be, they don’t have enough capable people on hand right now. They should still be able to make use of an old workhorse like me.”

Młynar drew his sword one last time. A rare, brilliant glimmer of his long-lost youthful spirit flared to life in his eyes. He spun the hilt effortlessly to perform a flawless sword flourish, sheathed the blade with a crisp, echoing click, and strode out the glass doors without looking back.

Now, he was going to pursue the foolish ideals of his youth.

Outside the corporate building, the afternoon sun was shining brightly. The grand road leading toward the arena was bustling with a massive sea of people. Młynar walked against the flow of the crowd, heading steadily toward the stadium where the tournament curtains had already fallen.

Having finally cast off the heavy shackles in his heart, even the distant, chaotic cries of the Kazimierz Feathered Beasts sounded melodic to his ears.

“Did you hear? That youngest girl from the Nearl family, she’s really amazing!”

“Who knows what she meant when she shouted ‘Excalibur’ at the end of the match? And why did she specifically run all the way over to the spectator area just to take a victory lap?”

Młynar’s sword subconsciously unsheathed by half an inch. He froze in his tracks. Then, as if suddenly realizing a critical error, he turned on his heel and began walking rapidly in the opposite direction.

‘Hiss, I was a bit too hasty. I actually forgot to bring the riding crop!”Ha, ha, ha. Being so careless, I really am still just a young, wandering knight…’

Inside the luxurious VIP room of the arena, the Doctor was currently holding a Kuranta in each hand, happily and aggressively petting their soft, twitching horse ears.

“Not bad, not bad at all. Don’t look at how easily I laid out the strategy back then; in reality, there aren’t many operators who can actually execute my timings that perfectly. You two are very impressive!”

Margaret subtly flicked her golden tail, leaning into the touch and lowering her head just a fraction to make it easier for him to pet her. “Thank you for your generous praise, Doctor. I have already promised to protect your safety with my life and execute your plans to the letter.”

Maria was much more cheerful, practically vibrating with adrenaline. “Of course! I take down the Corrupted Knight with one sword strike, and the Withered Knight with another… But you really are impressive, Doctor. I previously misunderstood you as a lazy chatterbox who shirks all his responsibilities and uses his good looks to seduce people. Basically, a massive fluff-addict.”

As soon as those blunt words left her mouth, both sisters felt the hands that were gently scratching the fine down behind their ears stiffen into absolute stone.

Margaret blinked.

Maria blinked.

The two Kuranta exchanged a slow, silent glance, then turned their heads in perfect unison, staring directly at the Doctor with the bright, piercing eyes characteristic of the Nearl bloodline.

The Doctor swallowed hard. “…Look, why are you two looking at me like that? I just didn’t expect someone to have such a despicable character!”

Margaret smiled warmly without saying a single word, letting the silence hang. Maria, however, was much more painfully blunt. “Doctor, will following you around really not cause me to violate the Knight’s Code?”

She knew her history, after all. Ancient knights had the solemn duty of standing guard outside the bedroom door when their master spent the night with someone else!

‘This brat really doesn’t know how to filter her words!’ the Doctor screamed internally.

He suddenly raised a very meaningful, dangerous smile, smoothly guiding the flow of the conversation toward a trap. “Maria, according to the Rhodes Island personnel records, even your uncle, at this exact age, didn’t do much better than this…”

Maria’s eyes lit up at the chance to complain, completely missing the bait. She hurriedly added, “Right, right, right, Doctor, that’s exactly what I’m saying! My uncle is so boring and rigid. How could he possibly have as good a relationship with you as we do? Plus, I’m way younger and much easier on the eyes than him. Doesn’t it feel a hundred times better commanding me than commanding my grumpy uncle?”

The Doctor smiled without a word. He slowly, deliberately stepped aside.

He wanted to ensure that Młynar—who had just spent the last half hour sprinting sixty kilometers back home and then straight to the arena just to retrieve his riding crop—would hear that final sentence with crystal clarity as he stepped through the VIP room doors.

As for what happened next, that was no longer any of the Doctor’s business.

“Uncle, neigh! You can defeat my physical body, neigh, but I must also say, the Doctor belongs to the young… neigh—!”

“Uncle, you should just step down… neigh~~!”

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]