Profession, Merchant Volume 9 Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Finale – The Priestess’s Execution I

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After flying for several minutes, the hero slows down and lands in a huge square in front of a large cathedral – the Great Square.


There were a lot of people buzzing around. It was very crowded.


But unlike the ridiculously cheerful atmosphere of the previous scene, the square was thick with tension.


And right in front of what looked like the cathedral, a cross stands there, looking like something out of the ordinary.


There, a girl in a representative-looking priestess uniform is pinned to it.


She is a beautiful girl.


The structure of her eyelids is so delicate that her eyes are like sapphires, and her silver hair, fluttering like fine silk, creates a fantastic atmosphere.


And the whiteness of her skin. It was like purity personified.


But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate all that.


Because what caught my eye were huge nails that had been driven directly into both of her wrists. The violent scene made the bright blood flowing from them stand out even more in contrast to the pale skin under the blue sky.


But in spite of the girl’s pitiful situation, the crowd was screaming, cursing, shouting, and foaming at the corners of their mouths like mad.


There was something bizarre about it, and when many of them saw the hero who was with me, the heat of their voices rose visibly.


“It’s the hero!”


“The hero is here to execute the priestess. This execution is justified!”


But while it may seem like everyone is chanting, only half of the crowd – or just over half of the crowd – are actually raising their voices, and just under half of the rest are mumbling, and some are even biting their lips.


“What’s so justified about it? Don’t you know that it is customary for a person in the priesthood to be publicly banished if they commit adultery?”


One of the silent halves shouted.


I see. They’re arguing about whether or not to execute this girl.


“Gentlemen.”


The hero muttered, and the place fell silent.


As expected, a hero’s influence is great.


“This is today’s newspaper. And here is the question: ‘Do you think the priestess should be executed?’ And 60% of the citizens said ‘yes’.”


For some reason, it looked funny to see him smugly unfolding the newspaper.


“This is the will of the people. It is a free and new trend, free from the influence of the existing powers. The Congress(People’s Party) has declared the execution to reflect the will of the people, so conventions based on archaic authority and ties are no longer needed here! The time has come to break free from these shackles imposed by the old!”


Slightly more than half are very excited.


By contrast, just under half are in a state of wake.


Apparently, the majority of people in Congress agreed that the sentence should be an execution, and then a poll was conducted among the people, which also resulted in the majority agreeing that the execution should be carried out, even though it was against the rules imposed by the Cabinet(State Agents’ Party), which was originally an exile.


And so, the arguments ended, just like that.


However, even though everything was decided arbitrarily yet smoothly, and even though the hero had already come, there were no traces that they are carrying out the execution right away.


Instead, the people have started to make some noise, dancing and singing all around, creating the atmosphere of a pseudo-festival.


“What are they doing?”


I asked the hero beside me.


“We’re waiting for the executioner to come at twelve o’clock, so we’re waiting for the bell. As for the delay, they said they had to do some paperwork and stuff. Good heavens, that’s why these bureaucrats are so… Why can’t the execution take place when the people’s enthusiasm is high? Well, the bell just rang at 11.30, so there’s less than 30 minutes to go.”


I see, so they are doing this to pass the time waiting for the executioner.


But what is it? This vague feeling.


I don’t know anything about this girl, and I don’t know anything about the political situation in this country.


But this strange atmosphere, it seemed to me that this was something very catastrophic if I let it happen.


Maybe that’s it? I don’t know what this girl did, but I find it unpleasant to see people celebrating an execution.


Yes, that’s what I was thinking, but I can’t find the reason to act. It’s like I’m missing something. Something to give me a push. A will to do it. The ability to do it and the qualifications to do it.


But I don’t have the will. Neither do I have the capability, nor do I have the qualifications.


So I just stood there, mortified about what to do.


Then I started to convince myself.


Yes. Even if I could do something, it would only get me into trouble.


It’s best not to be involved in any major event.


If I incurred numerous grudges or did anything else that would attract attention, this modest new life of the new me would be shattered.


It’s hard to be a maid all the time, but I’m content just to cook for a girl who comes home from school or the dojo, to eat with her, to cuddle under the covers where she sleeps and chill for fear her father will find out, to kiss and lick and be licked, to have sex with her, to promise to have a child with her and to say I’ll always be with her.


I don’t want to take any action and ruin everything I had for this moment just because I don’t like the way they will end the life of a girl I don’t know or the turmoil she is in.


That’s what I thought, and I’m sure it was right for ‘me’.


“Heey!”


But all these reasons, all these ‘excuses’, collapsed in one fell swoop when all of a sudden, someone walked to the center of the square.


It was a sexy and beautiful lady.


But she didn’t come flying, far in contrast to the attention-seeking grand entrance of the hero. She just walked in to the square from the main street.


She suddenly uttered a proclamation that, despite her amorous appearance, echoed across the vast square.


She was dressed in a red high-legged swimsuit costume, complete with a huge cloak and heels, which was a little odd, and she wore a pair of fine curved horns on her head, perhaps as a costume.


But the shape of her breasts and the way her waist was cinched in gave her a sex appeal that stole people’s eyes, and some fresh swallowing sounds could be heard.


“Is it true that you are going to execute the Priestess?!”


Several people in the crowd became angry at this, overwhelmed by the power of the woman raising her voice again.


“Who the hell are you?”


“You woman, stay out of this.”


“Yes, yes!”


At this point, the whole group began to shout and hurl insults in response to some of the people making a fuss.


The woman just gave them a devilish smile and pointed her finger at them, and the first few in the front row collapsed in place, groaning.


There were four or five of them. They were all holding their crotches, bucking their hips, and, for some reason, wearing gentle smiles on their faces.


“Hmph. Shut up, you puny mongrels. Your sperm looks disgusting.”


Though she called them names, they only wiggled in place in a disgusting state of ecstasy, as if they could not contain their shameless behavior enough to deserve the name.


Everyone in the audience shuddered – or not, I don’t know, but the cursing stopped anyway.


When all was quiet, the woman muttered, sternly and sexily.

“I am the Queen of Newland. And I am what is called the demon lord in your lands.”


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