The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System-Chapter 8: To Hug A Thigh II

Walking back, Ignotus extended a hand.

"C’mon, boy. Get up."

The butler flinched, expecting another hit.

When none came, he looked at the hand with wide, fearful eyes.

"A-Ah, yes."

Hesitantly, he took it.

Ignotus yanked him to his feet with surprising force, then immediately draped his arm over the butler’s shoulders like they were old drinking buddies.

"Since you’re so interested in what I’m about to do..."

He’d leaned close enough that the butler could feel the chill in his voice.

"How about you lead the way to my kitchen, hm? Don’t try to run. I’m faster than I look." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

The butler swallowed hard, nodding rapidly.

"Y-Yes. Yes, Young Lord."

"Great. Lead on, Spoon."

They walked forward; the butler limped slightly while Ignotus hummed a cheerful tune.

After a minute or so, they reached the heavy double doors of the kitchen complex.

A guard was stationed there, leaning against the frame, picking his teeth.

He straightened up when he saw them, but his eyes held no respect.

"Young Lord."

The guard grunted, not moving aside.

"What is your—"

"Hey."

Ignotus cut him off, his voice surprisingly friendly.

"What Class are you?"

The guard, thrown off by the random question, tilted his head.

"I... unlike the others, I still haven’t awakened a Class yet. I’m just a—"

Ignotus didn’t wait for the guard to finish that sentence, punching him square in the throat.

A precise strike to the windpipe, making the guard’s eyes bulge and mouth let out a choking sound as he collapsed.

Ignotus shook his hand out and stepped over the unconscious body.

"Guess I got lucky with you being around then~."

With that, he pushed the doors open with dramatic flair and entered.

The kitchen was a cavernous space, filled with the roar of fire, the clanging of pots, and the shouting of orders, with dozens of staff moving around rapidly.

"Everyone!"

Ignotus took a deep breath of the greasy air and screamed at the top of his lungs:

"YOUR YOUNG LORD HAS ARRIVED! WHERE’S YOUR HOSPITALITY?! COME WELCOME ME!"

The noise level in the kitchen dipped for a second.

Maids paused scrubbing, butlers stopped polishing silver, and cooks froze mid-chop.

They all glanced at him, saw the ’useless’ son and the limping butler beside him, and then, after muttering between themselves, rolled their eyes and went back to work.

Someone even laughed...

’Hm.’

Ignotus stood there, his smile frozen on his face.

"Hey. That’s rude, no?"

He glanced sideways at the butler.

"What do you think?"

Spoon was sweating bullets.

He had seen the guard go down, how fast he did...

Anytime before today, he’d say that he knew Ignotus very well.

But not anymore. Something was very, very wrong with his Lord.

"I-It is rude..."

The butler stammered, looking at the floor.

"Good. Good, you can acknowledge that..."

Ignotus patted Spoon’s head condescendingly, messing up his perfectly combed hair.

"Otherwise, I would’ve killed you~."

The tone was light, playful even, but the intent behind it hit the butler like a bucket of ice water, making his knees start knocking together.

"T-T-Thank you for being so merciful, Young Lord."

"Hm. Now lead me to the main station. I want to talk to the chefs who cook for the family."

Ignotus let him go, and the butler, realizing he was trapped between a rock and a psychopath, stumbled forward.

"Of course, please follow me. B-But Young Lord... do you intend on fighting without a sword?"

"I don’t know..."

"W-What do you mean, ’I don’t know?!’"

"...yeah... yeah."

’What does that fucking mean?!’

That last one he didn’t dare say out loud.

They wove through the maze of workstations, with Ignotus keeping his hands behind his back, eyeing the food like something of a health inspector, passing many pots, sniffing them, and wrinkling his nose.

"This smells like it needs more salt."

With each such comment, a weirded-out scullery maid or cook would scurry off.

Not before long, they reached the back of the kitchen, the pristine area reserved for the Main House’s meals, where the ingredients were fresher and the equipment was obviously cleaner.

"W-We’ve arrived, Young Lord."

Ignotus nodded at the squeaking butler.

"Hm."

His gaze swept over the staff, his eyes seemingly piercing through them, only to stop on a heavy-set man wearing a tall white hat, currently shouting at a subordinate.

"Hey, Head Chef. Come here."

The head chef stopped shouting and turned slowly, wiping his hands on a towel.

He was a big man, red-faced and arrogant, clearly the king of this little domain.

"Young Lord?"

Obviously confused, the head chef frowned.

"What are you doing here? This is a restricted area for hygiene reasons."

Ignotus beckoned with a finger.

"Step closer."

The head chef hesitated, then walked over, puffing his chest out.

"What is it, Young Lord?"

"You are my head chef, no?"

"Yes, I am. And I really must insist—"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

The sound of heavy boots cut him off.

From the side entrance, four guards marched in.

These weren’t with the door-guard; these men wore different looking armor, and Ignotus could feel the faint hum of Divinity from them.

Runebearers. Not strong ones, far from it, likely only Class Twelve like him, Seekers, the weakest of Runebearers, but definitely actual fighters.

"Young Lord!"

The lead guard barked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"We advise you to leave this place without any trouble! Lord Genus has given strict orders about disruptions!"

Ignotus raised both his hands.

"Ah, man... that’s absolutely hilarious..."

He turned to Spoon.

"...isn’t it?"

The butler fell to his knees.

’Please! PLEASE just let me go!’

He wanted nothing to do with this!