Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 96

Chapter 96: The Child from the Pay-to-Win Parenting Game (13)

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The city hall was situated just behind Burg Square.

 

It neighbored the commercial hub of Castro’s industry, with its other side nestled against the harbor and a wide riverway. The location had originally been chosen for the convenience of citizens wishing to file lawsuits in the city hall’s courtroom.

 

The courtroom itself was set in a side wing of the hall and was nearly a miniature version of the dueling arenas used by knights in tournaments.

 

All trials in the Castro parish were open to the public. The city hall doors were wide open, allowing citizens to come and go freely to observe the proceedings. The intent had originally been to educate and promote legal awareness among the populace, but due to the sword-dueling procedures adopted by the Tuva court, the courtroom became the ideal alternative for spectators who couldn’t afford tickets to the grand knight tournaments.

 

Though life and death were at stake in both, the duel representatives—those appointed by the plaintiff and defendant—were usually knights as well. Aside from the lack of gleaming armor and towering warhorses, courtroom duels hardly differed from the annual knight tournaments. For spectators who weren’t picky, the courtroom duels provided a comparable experience—free of charge.

 

Shui Que had come with Dorian, but his elder brother, the president of the Castro Spice Guild, was quickly entangled in official matters upon arriving in the city and was delayed by business negotiations.

 

Dorian had no choice but to let Shui Que wait in the audience seats. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wander off. If anything happens, you can look for Officer Paul of the court.”

 

Shui Que followed his brother’s pointing finger. The officer wore an armband with the city’s emblem and had a tall, solid frame. During recesses in the trial, he maintained the flow of people in and out of the hall, standing out clearly from the crowd.

 

Shui Que sat in the front row of the audience and nodded.

 

Dorian raised his hand, seemingly intending to brush away the blond strands falling against Shui Que’s cheek, but in the end, simply rested it gently on his shoulder and repeated, “I’ll be back soon.”

 

His demeanor made him seem somewhat like an older brother with separation anxiety.

 

“I know already,” his younger brother replied impatiently. “You’re so naggy. Are you like this with Paide too?”

 

Paide was a major client of the Castro spice business and had once visited the Louis family in Dockshire.

 

Dorian was long used to his brother’s attitude. Seeing him seated properly and appearing comfortable, he felt reassured and left.

 

As he passed Officer Paul, he gave a few extra instructions.

 

The officer nodded, glanced over at Shui Que, then gave Dorian a solemn salute.

 

According to plan, Dorian was scheduled to represent the guild in a lawsuit at 10 a.m. If all went well, the court investigation phase would conclude before lunch and be handed over to the dueling representative. That way, Dorian could free himself in time to bring Shui Que to meet the mayor.

 

It was still early, around 8 a.m.

 

The trial currently underway had not yet ended.

 

The case involved a cargo ship transporting ore from a southern county city that had caused a blockage in Castro’s port riverway.

 

On the surface, it seemed like a typical river shipping dispute.

 

But Shui Que, watching with curiosity, found that the plaintiffs—who suffered losses due to the blockage—had all united in accusing the ship’s captain of being a heretic, claiming that the river’s obstruction was caused by his use of demonic powers to wreak havoc among mortals.

 

A ridiculous accusation, yet the crowd in the audience burst into righteous fury at the mention of “heretic.”

 

The accused couldn’t defend himself, and someone from the audience even threw rotten vegetable leaves at him. The officers had to step in to restore order.

 

With the trial at an impasse, the judge struck the gavel and initiated the court duel procedure.

 

Shui Que saw a familiar face—

 

It was Ared.

 

From the side entrance came the defendant’s duel representative: Ared.

 

He wore low-heeled shoes suitable for combat, different from the pointed shoes worn by clerks and judges. The area designated for dueling was in the center of the courtroom—its marble floor covered in wood shavings and sand transported from the port. The heels of his shoes made a soft rustling sound as he stepped across it.

 

The plaintiff’s representative didn’t appear to be a knight from the Castro guild—Shui Que didn’t recognize the face.

 

As both duelists entered the arena, the audience burst into noise. Cheers and loud conversations filled the space, making Shui Que feel as though he had stumbled into a gladiator arena rather than a solemn courtroom.

 

A man sitting nearby had been observing Shui Que ever since he sat down. Seeing his uneasy and restrained demeanor, the man seized the opportunity to show off his knowledge of duels.

 

With animated gestures, he began his explanation: “The defendant hired Captain Ared from the Holy Court’s cavalry. Maybe the captain spent a fortune, or maybe they knew each other—either way, not just anyone can hire a cavalry captain. Usually, court duels only have rookie knights. Nothing worth watching. But today, everyone came because they heard the cavalry captain would be dueling.”

 

“You’ve heard of the legend of the Dragon Slayer, right?”

 

Shui Que hadn’t expected the man to speak to him so casually and instinctively shifted half a seat away.

 

The man didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continued talking on his own: “The legendary Dragon Slayer was this captain’s great-grandfather.”

 

The duelists’ attendants presented them with their swords.

 

The man became even more excited. “Look! That sword—it’s the Dragon Slayer’s heirloom! That diamond-shaped gem on the hilt is a dragon crystal!”

 

He rambled on without the slightest sense of boundaries, ignoring that they were strangers. Shui Que was nearly squeezed into the corner of his seat.

 

Pressing his lips together, Shui Que finally spoke, “You’re too noisy. Can you be quiet?”

 

The man froze, finally noticing the faint irritation and unease on Shui Que’s face—completely different from the admiration he had expected. His voice trailed off awkwardly.

 

Blades clashed, sparks flew, and the metallic clang rang out like gold and stone being struck.

 

The plaintiff’s representative, though a formally appointed Sword Knight, was clearly no match for Ared. Faced with a relentless series of thrusts, he could only parry continuously, occasionally managing a counterattack. It wasn’t long before he began to fall behind.

 

Ared’s hair, a chestnut hue tinged with red, gleamed sharply in the fractured sunlight streaming through the stained-glass rose windows. His calm expression in battle, paired with the glint of his blade and the fierce outline of his hair, made him resemble a mane-bearing lion.

 

Another straight thrust came flying. The opponent barely managed to parry, then strained to push the blade back and attempted a counter with a quick wrist flick. Ared stepped back two paces to dodge the blade’s tip, but the opponent, seeing an opening, chased after him recklessly, overlooking the risk to his left shoulder.

 

With a twist of his waist, Ared’s sword tip had already pierced half an inch into the man’s shoulder.

 

He clearly lacked real combat experience.

 

As blood began to flow, panic set in. When faced with Ared’s next strike, the force of his parry wasn’t enough to deflect the blade. He dropped heavily to his knees on the gravel, the sound of the sword tip meeting bone almost audible.

 

Shui Que’s eyelids twitched, and he looked away—only to meet Ared’s eyes directly.

 

Ared was momentarily distracted. The surprise in his gaze hadn’t faded when his opponent seized the opening. With a counter lunge, the sword tip sliced a red line across Ared’s arm beneath his linen shirt.

 

At the same time, Ared’s instinctive strike drove his sword deep into the opponent, pinning him to the ground, leaving no room for recovery.

 

[Foster Character [Shui Que] has gained insight while observing the duel. Swordsmanship comprehension increased. Strength +1]

 

The judge struck the gavel, signaling the end of the duel.

 

Healers stepped forward to administer basic treatment to both duelists. The victorious cavalry captain, however, bypassed them and walked toward the spectator stand.

 

“Good day, Mr. Que.”

 

Out of combat, Ared transformed from a majestic lion to a large, timid dog, awkwardly greeting Shui Que. “I didn’t expect you to be here too.”

 

Ared instinctively felt the bloodied scene of the duel was ill-suited for someone like him.

 

The young master looked visibly uneasy, his eyes slightly red. He turned his head away and glanced at Ared’s arm. “Y-you’re not going to bandage that? You’re bleeding, it’s so…”

 

So fragrant—

 

He wanted to eat.

 

Clenching his teeth, Shui Que declared firmly, “So disgusting.”

 

Ared froze, then caught the handkerchief Shui Que tossed at him.

 

“Handle it yourself.” The young master covered the lower half of his face with one hand, his expression filled with disdain as he looked at Ared’s bleeding arm.

 

Arednodded instinctively in agreement.

 

But instead of pressing the handkerchief to the wound, he accepted the bandage from the healer and tightly wrapped the bleeding area.

 

At the very least, the scent of blood no longer thickened and wafted toward Shui Que’s nose.

 

Shui Que let out a breath of relief.

 

As he looked up again, he sensed something. Across from him on the high platform, beside the judge, a black-haired, black-eyed youth was staring intently at him from the jury box.

 

Who knew how long he’d been watching.

 

Shui Que didn’t lower his left hand, still lightly covering his mouth. A flick of his scarlet tongue pressed against his small fangs—tingling from the scent of blood, urging him to bite into something.

 

Even after being caught staring, the young man didn’t look away. He kept his eyes on Shui Que.

 

Shui Que noticed the youth’s jacket collar was unusually high and tightly fastened. Unlike the current fashion of low front and high back collars, his was almost equally high front and back, not exposing even a sliver of neck.

 

His skin was pale as frost, his pupils pitch-black.

 

Expressionless. He gave off an eerie, oppressive feeling.

 

Annoyed by the man’s rude gaze, Shui Que glared at him.

 

He was, after all, the young master of the Louis family—known for his bad temper.

 

The youth’s lips curled slightly. So slightly it was nearly imperceptible.

 

When the judge turned to the jury for their verdict, the others followed suit in raising their hands after seeing the black-haired youth nod.

 

The gavel fell. The judge ruled in favor of the defendant.

 

Seeing the plaintiff’s side scatter dejectedly, Shui Que turned to Ared and said, “Congratulations. Your swordsmanship was impressive. I watched the whole thing.”

 

Ared’s eyes lit up instantly. “Thank you. I didn’t expect you to come to watch. Did you come alone?”

 

“And this handkerchief…” He held up the small, neatly folded cloth Shui Que had just thrown to him.

 

Shui Que explained, “I’m waiting here alone for Dorian. He has a court case later.”

 

“I’ve given you the handkerchief,” he waved his hand.

 

Ared immediately tucked the neatly folded handkerchief into his chest pocket, treating it like a precious treasure.

 

Completely ignoring the fact that his injuries still required further treatment at the hospital on the other side of Berg Square, he nervously asked, “Do you have time now? Or maybe at noon? There aren’t many people at the Honeywax Tavern during the day…”

 

The honey pancakes at the Honeywax Tavern were famous throughout Castro District.

 

As soon as Dorian returned, he overheard someone trying to invite his younger brother to lunch.

 

Without any change in expression, he nodded slightly to Ared and then took Shui Que’s hand. “Excuse us, we’ll be leaving now. The mayor is already waiting.”

 

Shui Que hadn’t moved yet and asked blankly, “Isn’t there a case later—?”

 

Dorian replied, “I arranged for someone else.”

 

“Oh…” Shui Que hadn’t even said goodbye to Ared when the plaintiff’s dueling representative—whose injuries were far worse—was escorted around the viewing seats by a physician. The intense smell of blood filled the air.

 

Shui Que’s pale face immediately scrunched up.

 

Before Dorian could react, his younger brother clung tightly to his chest.

 

Shui Que looked up, eyes misty and nose flushed pink. “Dorian. I’m feeling a little… I’m a little blood-dizzy.”

 

So dizzy that even his fangs were itching, and his stomach grumbled with hunger.

 

He could almost bite someone on the spot.

 

But he had to restrain himself!

 

If word of this got back to Sylvester, it wouldn’t be good.

 

He was a vampire who kept his promises!

 

And he was being watched again.

 

Shui Que gripped Dorian’s coat tightly and snuck a glance across the jury seats.

 

Those pitch-black eyes were watching.

 

“Let’s go quickly,” Shui Que urged, pressing a hand against Dorian’s chest.

 

Dorian misunderstood his intention. Just like when they were younger, he instinctively picked his younger brother up and carried him out, turning back to say to Ared, “Excuse us.”

 

Onlookers who hadn’t yet left the scene turned their heads in surprise. It wasn’t often they saw someone that old still being carried by their older brother.

 

【Fame of foster character [Shui Que] has increased, Prestige +100】

 

【Bystander impression: The pampered younger brother of the spice guild president, needs to be carried even when walking—but looks like someone easy to carry.】

 

Under everyone’s gaze, a flush rose to Shui Que’s cheeks. He buried his face into Dorian’s shoulder and muttered, “I meant let’s go quickly. I didn’t ask you to carry me.”

 

Dorian’s action had been purely instinctual. He hadn’t yet gotten used to the idea that Shui Que didn’t need to be carried anymore.

 

From the past to now, the moment he picked up Shui Que and caught a whiff of that faint scent, his heart would always settle.

 

Though it was a joy that Shui Que could walk again, Dorian’s second reaction was a vague, inexplicable sense of loss.

 

Now his brother was even applying to study at Virginia Academy.

 

Dorian whispered, “Do you want to walk on your own?”

 

“…” Shui Que pressed his lips together, silent. He adjusted to a more comfortable position in Dorian’s arms. “You’re the one who picked me up. I never asked you to.”

 

Dorian: “Mm.”

 

……

 

Getting a recommendation letter from the mayor was surprisingly easy.

 

If he had to give a speech, Shui Que could have said: My brother is both the Speaker of the Council and the President of the Spice Guild.

 

He enrolled with the other new students that year, joining the spring term after Easter, and was directly placed in the third year of the Knight School.

 

Virginia Academy’s enrollment procedure was oath-taking, registration, and payment. After that, students could collect the outer robes of their respective schools in the central common room.

 

The Literature and Law Schools used shades of red—scarlet and deep crimson. Theology House had modest gray, Medicine House wore pure white, and Knight House had deep blue.

 

The color of one’s robe identified their school, and the small, subtle horizontal bars on the chest showed their year level.

 

Orientation was Virginia Academy’s top event each year. The evening banquet was held in the hall beside the central common room.

 

The hall was funded by the church and featured stained-glass windows depicting stories from the Holy Book.

 

Shui Que had already put on his deep blue robe. He had wanted to take off his vest, but without a servant around to help carry it, he had no one to hand his clothes to.

 

Virginia Academy emphasized student independence and didn’t allow servants on campus.

 

Breakfast and dinner were prepared by academy chefs; lunch was the responsibility of dormmates on rotation. Public areas were cleaned by hired workers, but each student’s private quarters had to be cleaned personally.

 

All of this was recorded in the academy’s charter. Further details varied depending on the school.

 

Shui Que still held a parchment copy of the academy rules as he quickened his pace, having already fallen behind the other new students.

 

The sound of water splashing.

 

It abruptly stopped when Shui Que pushed open the door to the hall.

 

Students in robes with two or three bars on their chests had surrounded the quail-like new students in a half-circle.

 

Cold water had just been dumped from wooden buckets placed on the floor, soaking the new students from head to toe.

 

Clothes and hair were dripping wet—clearly an act of humiliation.

 

Suddenly, Shui Que understood what the boy behind him in the payment line had meant.

 

“You’re too delicate—be careful when it’s time for the ‘dehorning’! I heard the older students love bullying the weak. And you’re so—”

 

So beautiful.

 

That’s what everyone there thought.

 

With pale skin and deep blue robes trimmed in golden lace, his winged sleeves draped like feathers embracing his soft body.

 

Was the Knight House robe too big for him? With such high tuition, Virginia didn’t custom-tailor?

 

Someone sharp-eyed noticed the three bars stitched on Shui Que’s chest.

 

“Third year?”

 

But clearly a new face.

 

Someone they would never have forgotten.

 

“A recommendation student,” another clarified.

 

The leader of the Knight House said, “A recommendation student is still a freshman, right? The dehorning is for all new students—recommendation doesn’t exempt you. Don’t you think so, Prince Eldran?”

 

He turned to ask a black-haired, black-eyed student sitting high above, outside the crowd.

 

Shui Que remembered him.

 

He had seen those dark eyes before in court.

 

Those pitch-black eyes reflected Shui Que’s figure without comment.

 

His followers took that as agreement. One shrugged. “Alright, recommendation student, welcome.”

 

“Come on—your turn.”

 

Shui Que pressed his lips together and stepped into the crowd, asking softly, “What’s this?”

 

“Dehorning.” He had a vague idea. As an initiation ritual, it typically involved cold water and rough treatment.

 

During the process, new students would undergo relentless pranks and torments—a form of hazing that was essentially abuse.

 

Before their impurities could be washed away, they had to remain humble before upperclassmen, shedding their rough edges and becoming “civilized animals”—accepted as part of the house.

 

As Shui Que got closer, the students finally saw his face clearly.

 

The threatening atmosphere suddenly paused.

 

The recommendation student looked so scared and anxious.

 

His lips were bitten red, almost juicy.

 

His eyelashes were long, distinct, and curled—fluttering like a butterfly’s wings.

 

Even though nothing had started yet, the boy who had called him over already felt like a villain.

 

Hesitating, the boy tried changing the topic. “What’s your specialization?”

 

The Knight House had different training tracks, corresponding to various orders in the Holy Court. Though students might shift later, most would join their respective divisions after graduation.

 

Shui Que replied, “Soothing Knight.”

 

The boy didn’t catch it. “What?”

 

Shui Que had to repeat carefully, “Soothing Knight.”

 

The boy asked around, “Is that a thing? I’ve never heard of it.”

 

“I know,” another student chimed in. “I eavesdropped during the freshman oath ceremony today. It’s a knight who’s in charge of comforting and encouraging others.”

 

“Comforting? So… does he learn bandaging and support skills? How’s that different from our Medical House?”

 

“No, Soothing Knights focus on emotional support.”

 

This sparked a flurry of discussion. At this age, boys were overflowing with curiosity and swarmed Shui Que with questions.

 

“So your talent is making people feel better just by seeing you?”

 

“Knights get tired marching—boosting morale is important. That’s a vital role.”

 

“We need that too. Seeing heretics in the Inquisition is depressing. Can’t you transfer to our Law House?”

 

“And… you smell so good.” A tall boy leaned in, his shadow completely covering Shui Que. “Are you wearing perfume? What do you bathe with at night? Is scent a requirement for Soothing Knights?”

 

He bombarded Shui Que with a flood of questions.

 

The dehorning ritual had unexpectedly turned into a personal welcome event for Soothing Knight Shui Que.

 

Guan He, who had been ready to buy a sword in the shop, was stunned.

 

【This is hilarious. Streamer confused: What is happening?】


【When Charm stat is ???, nothing more needs to be said.】

 

But someone still refused to let the matter go and brought the topic back: “Even if he’s in a new specialization and a recommendation student, the dehorning is something every freshman goes through. We all went through it more or less the same way—there’s no need to make special exceptions for one person.”

 

The surrounding voices quieted for a moment.

 

No upperclassman stepped forward.

 

“Kaide, you do it. Weren’t you the one who called people over in the first place?”

 

Someone behind gave Kaide a push.

 

Shui Que glanced at him and said, “You can’t splash me with cold water… I’m not in good health. I’ll get a fever.”

 

His voice was soft and delicate, sounding pitiful no matter how you heard it.

 

Kaide let out a couple of uncertain “Oh… oh…” sounds.

 

In the end, what happened was no different from the kind of teasing children might do while playing—the water just barely splashed, only a few droplets bouncing onto Shui Que’s face.

 

But it still got his eyelashes wet.

 

They clumped together, damp and sticky, in tiny tufts.

 

Glistening water droplets beaded at the corners of his round eyes and on the tip of his rosy nose.

 

Some of the gazes cast in his direction held faint displeasure, yet they looked charming in a way.

 

Was he angry?

 

“All right, Kaide, don’t go too far.”

 

“Yeah, he might catch a cold later.”

 

Kaide found it baffling—weren’t these the same people who pushed him to do it just a moment ago?

 

【Dizzying straight guys.】

 

【What is this? Water! I lick! What is this? Water! I lick! What is this? Water! I lick!】

 

【Enough, you’ve licked it three times already.】

 

【Baby, danger! You’re surrounded by food!】

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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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