“Is the situation… is it bad?”

The noble lady looked nervous. It was clear she was very concerned about her brother, but often concern alone wasn’t of much use.

Geralt was considering his words carefully, so as not to make the lady feel she was at fault.

“Rumors have twisted the truth of things, those crucial clues. All that I could confirm from the villagers are already widely known matters: the lord cavorted with a woman, then one day the woman vanished, and the lord turned into a cormorant. Sigh~”

The cold-faced demon hunter let out a faint sigh.

“Honestly, very few noble ladies would be as… tolerant as you. Allowing the farmers in the territory to gossip about their lord for so long without restraint.”

In fact, a normal lord would have whipped several backs of the people as soon as rumors started to spread.

A more tyrannical lord would erect long wooden poles in prominent places on the estate, hanging the corpses of those executed like wind chimes.

Geralt couldn’t quite say if his sigh was lamenting the increased workload he foresaw, or admiring the rare kindness of this noble lady.

Anyway, he was in a good mood.

“Please let these villagers go home, Miss Eliza. I’ll conduct field investigations next, so if you could…”

The demon hunter with milk-white hair was originally standing casually, ready to say “Please take me to see your brother, that cormorant.”

But as his cat eyes casually surveyed the crowd outside the estate, he shifted all his weight onto his left toes.

It looked as natural as if he was simply changing posture from standing too long, but in fact, it was a stance ready for rotation, movement, and sword wielding at any moment.

In short, it was a fully alert combat-ready stance.

Someone in the crowd caught Geralt’s attention.

Tall and robust, though initially inconspicuous among farmers wrapped in layers upon layers. But a demon hunter’s observation far surpassed that of ordinary people.

After a glance, he noticed the obvious discord—

The man’s proportions were just too good.

Despite wearing evidently heavy gear and being nearly two meters tall, his body proportions were extraordinarily balanced.

Upon further observation, Geralt noticed the flash of a silver necklace beneath the cloak.

It was a roaring bear’s head.

The noble lady hadn’t learned any swordsmanship, so she naturally couldn’t perceive Geralt’s change, only wondering why this demon hunter suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Master? Demon Hunter Master? What happened to you?”

“No, it’s just that I saw a friend. Please let these people all go home, I will first catch up with that ‘friend’.”

Miss Eliza blankly stared at this demon hunter master, whose cat eyes remained fixed on a certain spot in the crowd.

—————–

Lann walked along with the dispersing people, wearing a black hooded cloak, appearing inconspicuous in the gloomy winter daylight.

This was indeed the first demon hunter master he had seen, besides Bordeaux.

Belengar didn’t count; that guy had been doing manual labor to earn extra wages for nearly ten years now, at least.

The demon hunter with milk-white hair perfectly matched his impression of a demon hunter master.

Professional, calm, patient, alert… the characteristics of a demon hunter were vividly displayed in him.

Even within the most comprehensively knowledgeable Wolf School, this fellow was probably among the most outstanding.

And now, this outstanding demon hunter was already blocking his path.

In a narrow alley of the village, the demon hunter, with two swords strapped to the side of his horse, stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

It wasn’t until Lann walked into the alley that he straightened up, facing the young demon hunter.

“This job has already been taken by me, of the Bear School. Besides, I think the difficulty of this job, one demon hunter is enough to handle. There’s no need to split the bounty with someone who automatically comes to help.”

Geralt’s deep, hoarse voice sounded in the small alley, consistently carrying a charm of a mature man, but Lann felt that…

This guy seemed to harbor some resentment? This text is hosted at novęlfire.net

Thus, Lann, whose school affiliation had been blatantly pointed out, simply pulled back his hood and bluntly asked.

“Of course, the renowned [White Wolf], Demon Hunter Master. A simple curse that turns a person into a bird, you’re more than capable of handling it alone. But what’s with this odd resentment in your tone? If I remember correctly, this should be our first meeting.”

Geralt responded the way most people did when they first saw Lann’s face: he froze for a moment, then shook his head, regaining his composure.

Lann’s words made him twitch the corners of his cool lips, further intensifying that sense of resentment.

“Yes, this is our first meeting in this lifetime, but the last encounter I had with the Bear School was far from pleasant.”

“Oh? How so?”

Lann tilted his head, curiously asking.

Seeing that Lann wasn’t trying to cause trouble, Geralt didn’t immediately put his hand on the sword hilt strapped to his back.

“Us having this expression reduces troubles, while you truly lack emotions and are oblivious to social norms.”

“The last time I passed by I saw some of your people hunting a petrifying chicken snake. I went to help. Once the beast was just laid down, blood still warm, your guy whipped out a steel sword and told me he hadn’t invited me to join the task, all the reward was his, and if I wanted a share, I’d have to draw my sword… Is he out of his mind? I didn’t even want a payout!”

Lann pursed his lips, awkwardly smiling.

Geralt wore a stone-cold expression of a dead man, yet spoke of others being oblivious to social norms—it was more amusing than his attempts at cold humor.

But the situation he described… from Lann’s understanding of Bordeaux, it didn’t seem false.

“Bear School’s mutation formulas, you know… saying he’s out of his mind isn’t wrong.”

Though Lann didn’t have much sense of loyalty to the Bear School, he still wore its emblem around his neck. Facing a noticeably bitter Wolf School demon hunter, he could only offer an awkward laugh.

“But don’t worry, I’m not here to poach your business. To be honest, I’ve only recently gained any understanding of curses and haven’t personally removed any kind yet. Initially, I just wanted to trail behind you and observe a real combat scenario.”

Saying this, Lann fished a shiny Oren Coin from the alchemy pouch at his back and flicked it to Geralt.

The Wolf School member casually raised his hand, catching it in his palm.

He raised an eyebrow at Lann in confusion.

The young man, in turn, smiled and shrugged.

“I’m not like that one you met—I know ‘give and take’. I’m familiar.”

“Let me follow you and observe a live curse removal case. If trouble arises, I’ll lend a hand. Once I’ve learned something, I’ll even give a teaching fee. It’s a pretty good deal, right?”

Geralt’s gaze moved between the Oren in his hand and Lann’s face. Ultimately, with a peculiar expression, he tucked the coin into his pocket.

“It seems you’re indeed different from most Bear School members…”

“The renowned [Hunting Marquis], Demon Hunter Master who slaughtered an entire estate of counts.”

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