Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 92

Chapter 92: The Child from the Pay-to-Win Parenting Game (9)

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The dense forest stretching between Dockshire and the Castro Diocese was long and winding. Starlight twinkled in the sky, but even the pouring moonlight couldn’t penetrate the broad, thick canopy or the cracked, oversized leaves.

 

There was a rustling sound—something heavy stepped on the ground, crushing the brittle yellow leaves into dust.

 

A gray-furred creature with a sleek coat and powerful limbs darted through the underbrush, its nose twitching as it sniffed along the muddy path.

 

It hadn’t rained in nearly half a month. The tightly packed dirt road was so dry it might as well have been a desert—no rain to wash away the traces left behind, but that also meant a wide variety of lingering scents.

 

Grains fallen from packhorses, shattered eggs, malt liquor leaking from leather wine flasks…

 

Leon had broken away from the Louis family’s search party. They were conducting a carpet-style sweep around Dockshire, but their progress was far too slow.

 

The gray wolf followed the trail with its nose. When it finally emerged from the forest, it raised its head and howled at the full moon resting atop an oak tree, which shone down upon the city walls of the Castro Diocese.

 

The stained glass Holy Cross glimmered in brilliant hues.

 

Time was of the essence—the inn was already in chaos.

 

No one knew who had knocked over the wall-mounted candelabra while going upstairs, but amidst the firelight and rising smoke came the cries of falcons and barking of hounds. Ash from the cattail wicks and sparks from the fireplace in the second-floor hall scattered through the air.

 

“Holy Court Knights Scout Team! Open the door! Civilians not involved, evacuate the inn immediately!”

 

The wooden door near the main hall splintered open. Gleaming blades flashed arcs of cold light. When metal clashed with metal, the clangor was so sharp and loud it made one’s eardrums ache.

 

Shui Que’s bedroom was further inside, away from the first outbreak of sword fights. He was a little anxious, curling up in his guardian spirit’s arms.

 

Guan He wrapped him up, throwing a cloak over Shui Que’s back. The movement was rushed—even the bow at the front was just loosely and hastily tied.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” Guan He patted Shui Que’s back. Even though he now wore a brocade cloak on top, he still looked frail. “I’ll protect you.”

 

But even as he said this, Guan He had no real confidence in his words.

 

After all, he was just a powerless, useless guardian spirit.

 

His manifested form was always on a countdown timer, and if a third person saw him, he would vanish immediately.

 

And the most useless part of all was this damn game system!

 

What kind of game designers did Semi Studio even hire?!

 

Shui Que nestled into Guan He’s embrace, letting his guardian spirit lift him in his arms. His cheek rested on the man’s shoulder. He knew he couldn’t make trouble for Guan He right now, so he answered softly, “Mm… With you here, I’m not scared.”

 

The oak window was thrown wide open.

 

The cold night air rushed in. Shui Que shivered. He was wearing a plain white cotton nightgown—since it was sleepwear, it was just a single thin layer of fabric reaching his ankles. Underneath it was empty and unlined. As the wind blew, his hands withdrew into the lake-green short cloak to keep warm.

 

Guan He noticed and asked with concern, “Where are your regular clothes?”

 

“In my suitcase,” Shui Que recalled, “in the magician’s bedroom.”

 

There was a knock at the door. The flute player spoke in a cool voice, “Shui Que, are you awake?”

 

The door handle turned with a long, creaky groan—it was locked. The flute player frowned deeply.

 

“Who’s in your room?”

 

His expression turned icy cold, like frost could form on his face.

 

Just a few steps away in the hallway, blades flashed and blood flew. The magician used some tricks to confuse the Holy Court Knights so they couldn’t tell friend from foe. Swords clashed with shields, spears swept and slammed into the floor like muffled thunder.

 

But the tricks wouldn’t last long. Here in the Castro Diocese, they were outnumbered and vulnerable.

 

Blades held no mercy. The flute player needed to get Shui Que out—fast.

 

He tightened his grip. As his knuckles strained and turned white, the iron lock fell off. He didn’t have time to wipe away the rust stuck to his palm. The flute player shoved open the door.

 

The single-bed room was cramped. The window was wide open, and cold wind blew the curtains into his face.

 

Empty. Cold and quiet. No one was there.

 

……

 

The area below the second floor was right above the backyard shrubbery. Usually, someone maintained and watered it, so the bushes grew tall. There was also a grapevine trellis outside the stable for additional cover.

 

Guan He was hiding under the grapevine with Shui Que in his arms.

 

Someone leaned out from the second-floor window, glanced around, then withdrew.

 

“Will he come downstairs to catch me?”

 

Shui Que wasn’t sure if the person’s gaze had lingered for a moment in the grapevine, and he felt uneasy.

 

Guan He replied, “There are Holy Court Knights blocking the second floor.”

 

But considering the circus troupe’s abilities…

 

The battle above was getting more intense.

 

Guan He thought he had to get Shui Que out of here as soon as possible. But his spirit form had a time limit—he would vanish soon. There was no way he could take Shui Que very far.

 

At midnight, the system refreshed. Guan He noticed the previously frozen gray action point list had lit up again.

 

【Plot Branch Triggered: Please help the character choose—】

 

【A. Ask ??? for help】


【B. Ask Holy Court Knight Ared for help】


【C. Stay and wait】

 

[This choice will affect future career development paths. Please choose carefully.]


[Choosing this will cost 3 Action Points.]

 

There was no need to think about it—waiting in place would only result in being taken away by the circus. Guan He’s expression was grave.

 

In fact, the vampire identity…


It seemed like learning from the black magic warlock and the flute player of the circus might be a better option.

 

But that would mean truly becoming a heretic despised by everyone on the continent of Alantia.

 

He absolutely didn’t want Shui Que to turn into an evil little blood mage.

 

He didn’t want him following the circus from place to place, shivering pitifully in corners, constantly hiding from the witch hunts led by the Holy Court Knights.

 

So Guan He ruled that option out.

 

Because this choice involved an important development branch, System 77 secretly revealed the male lead’s situation to Shui Que.

 

Shui Que analyzed it very seriously.

 

Option A likely involved an NPC that hadn’t been unlocked yet, so the path was still unclear for now. Option B seemed to be related to the Holy Court Knights—maybe it would lead to a knight route?

 

At that point, he had already made up his mind.

 

Thinking about it, since the plan was to increase the difficulty of the male lead’s gaming experience…

 

Why not set becoming a knight as the goal for character development?

 

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

 

He couldn’t walk, so naturally, he wouldn’t be able to fight. When the time came, the male lead would be racking his brain trying to figure out how to turn him into a knight.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shui Que spotted a glint of cold steel flashing near the rear exit.

 

He called out softly, “Sir Knight…”

 

And in doing so, took the choice away from Guan He.

 

[Due to the player’s prolonged indecision, the character Shui Que has now sought help from the Holy Knight Ared.]


[This playthrough’s development goal for ‘Shui Que’ is: Holy Court Knight.]


[Path locked. Starting moral alignment +1 Good. Current alignment: 4 Good : 6 Evil.]

 

With a flick of Ared’s sword, the blade pierced his opponent’s chest. The injured man let out a “poof” and transformed into a mole, disappearing in the next instant.

 

Black magic had inflated the scrawny apprentice to a size as tall and broad as two grown men. And now, in the end, he had turned into a mole to escape.

 

Ared let out a breath and tightened his grip on the sword.

 

Etched into the sword’s crossguard were wheat stalks, inlaid with a diamond-shaped dragon crystal. The guard and the blade formed a cruciform structure.

 

The sword had belonged to his great-grandfather, a dragonslayer. After slaying a dragon, he had forged the dragon crystal into this weapon.

 

Ared steadied his breathing and stepped toward the grape trellis behind him.

 

The faint cry for help had come from that direction—soft and weak, like the mewling of a kitten.

 

His armor, made of heavy iron leaves, clanked with a metallic sound as he moved. The weight of it caused the earth beneath him to sink with each step, leaving deep, wide footprints.

 

When he saw what was under the grapevine trellis, Ared nearly forgot to breathe. He raised a hand to the side of his helmet and lifted the iron visor that shielded his face. His handsome features now bore a dazed and bewildered expression.

 

“Sir Knight…”

 

The young master lay tangled in the grass. A dangling grapevine had caught a strand of his platinum blond hair.

 

His small face was as pale as snow from the cold. The tip of his nose was red and raw.

 

He looked pitiful and a bit disheveled. His legs were curled up weakly, and it was unclear how he had managed to flee this far.

 

The ground was freezing cold, and the grass scratched his skin painfully. Shui Que reached out to him, treating him like one of the castle servants. “Carry me.”

 

As he lifted his arm, the clasp of his short cloak came undone, revealing a pure white cotton robe underneath—nearly indistinguishable from a floor-length nightgown.

 

The round neckline was tied with a ribbon bow and adorned with a budding flower ornament. His chest, youthful and flat, rose and fell slightly beneath the thin fabric—warm and delicate.

 

Now, without his wide-brimmed floral hat and thick cloak, no one could possibly mistake him.

 

Even though his features were soft and delicate, Ared could now clearly see—

 

This was simply a boy who happened to be far too beautiful.

 

Fragile and pampered, he showed little respect for the Holy Knight who had risked much to save him. Instead, he complained impatiently, “My hands are frozen. Hurry up and carry me.”

 

“The grass is really cold.”

 

He grumbled.

 

Ared snapped out of his daze. As he knelt, his armor clanged again. “Yes, young master.”

 

Obediently, he reached out to pick up the young master who had fallen into misfortune.

 

But Shui Que immediately became picky. His elegant brows furrowed. “Your armor looks hard… and cold.”

 

It seemed he no longer wanted Ared to carry him.

 

Meanwhile, Guan He, who had been forced to retreat because of Ared’s appearance: “…”

 

He silently purchased a wool blanket from the in-game store.

 

The blanket fell softly into a corner of the grape trellis, as if it had always been there from the beginning.

 

…….

 

“Where’s Ared?!”

 

The captain of the Holy Court Knights’ reconnaissance squad was doing a headcount.

 

Ared had been sent over from Virginia Academy. He had already been assigned the title of Knight Candidate and, after his coming-of-age ceremony, would be formally knighted in a sword-giving ceremony conducted by Archbishop Sarre.

 

He had been the source of their mission’s key intelligence, and he was also the most junior of the Holy Knights present.

 

A painted four-wheeled carriage bearing the symbols of the Holy Cross and griffins stood quietly on the street. A wave of white magic flowed from it, slowly surrounding and purifying the entire inn building.

 

It had been that wave of power that drove out the black magic lingering inside.

 

Though the Holy Knights had regained their senses, their enemies had already escaped without a trace.

 

The captain, unable to find Ared, went outside the carriage. His sword was still unsheathed, its tip pointed toward the ground. With his left hand over his right chest through his armor, he bowed deeply. “Your Holiness, I was incompetent. I allowed the black magic warlock and his companions to escape.”

 

The night air was thick with dew. Tuva’s clergy member, Sylvester, wore only a rough robe sewn from barley fabric, fastened at the waist with a plain rope.

 

The captain bowed his head even lower.

 

Sylvester, known as the youngest auxiliary bishop in Tuva—and most likely the next pope—had been taken in by Archbishop Sarre as a disciple since childhood. He had always followed the early clergy’s vows of poverty, dressing plainly, living with restraint, and upholding moral integrity.

 

White smoke drifted up from the bronze censer, curling out through the open carriage window.

 

“It was a warlock from Helio,” Sylvester said in a steady, emotionless tone, his gaze fixed distantly on the moonlit sky.

 

His expression conveyed not so much holiness as it did emptiness.

 

His blue-gray eyes were calm, like still water.

 

“Take care of the other knights. Every Holy Knight is a treasured hero of Tuva. If anyone needs healing, physicians are waiting at the monastery.”

 

“And the young knight named Ared—he still hasn’t been found?”

 

The captain responded with a solemn face. “No, not yet.”

 

His expression grave.

 

Warlocks from Helio?

 

Helio was the Holy City of the Alantia continent. So that incident with the attempted theft of the Holy Grail must also have been connected to this group.

 

He felt even more ashamed that he had failed to capture those evil heretics.

 

Sylvester unfolded a parchment. “What about Count Louis’ beloved son?”

 

The heavy clanking of armor echoed nearby.

 

Ared appeared, unable to properly salute in his armor. “Your Holiness.”

 

His voice rang out powerfully: “Captain, Knight Candidate Ared reporting back to the squad.”

 

Shui Que rubbed his ears and leaned close to Ared’s ear to complain, “You could speak a little more quietly too. They’re not hard of hearing at such a young age. That was so loud, my ears hurt.”

 

“Sorry,” Ared said in a lowered voice.

 

Shui Que added, “Don’t do that again next time—especially while you’re holding me.”

 

Through the helmet, the young master’s scent seemed to drift right to his nose.

 

Ared’s ears flushed hot. “Yes.”

 

Count Louis’s youngest son mumbled softly.

 

But no matter how quiet his voice was, it couldn’t escape a priest’s ears.

 

Sylvester looked over at them.

 

His tall figure was completely encased in tightly fitted armor, the iron-leaf plating reflecting cold glints in the moonlight—unbreakable.

 

His iron-clad arms wrapped around the wool blanket, enclosing the soft, harmless young master.

 

The contrast was striking.

 

As the priest’s gaze swept past, Shui Que, whispering to the other, revealed a small glimpse of his tiny sharp tooth.

 

【Unlocked NPC Priest [Sylvester]】

 

【NPC Sylvester’s current Favorability toward character Shui Que: 0】

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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