Profession, Merchant Volume 8 Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Parade I

“Hey!”


The female warrior glares at me, raising her voice enough to be heard over the crowd.


“Where have you been, and why are you dressed like that? We’ve been looking for you all over the place, you know?”


What the hell is this?


This female warrior is speaking to me as if she knows me.


“You have caused me a lot of trouble, did you know that? That girl, the holy knight, thought you were dead and has already gone to God knows where to avenge you. I wanted to stop her because I knew you weren’t the kind of person to die from a little fall in the air, but you see, she’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t she?”


No, this warrior clearly knows me – she knew me before I lost my memory.


In that case, this is a unique opportunity to get to know the old me…


“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong person.”


But what came out of my mouth were these words.


“What are you talking about? How could I mistake you for someone dressed up like a maid? Don’t be silly. Or rather, it doesn’t matter now. That girl, she said something like ‘I’m going to target the parade’ because she didn’t know where the hero was. If we don’t do something, she’ll be branded as a terrorist. We have to find her and stop her before it’s too late.”


“I’m sorry, but it’s none of my business.”


“Ah, wait!”


The next thing I knew, I was running.


It was the first time I had ever really run, but I was quite fast.


With the girl’s hand in tow, I blended into the crowd, trying not to be spotted by the female warrior.


“Haa, haaa… why did you run away?”


The girl manages to ask me, gasping for breath, but I can’t answer her.


I still don’t understand it myself.


It just felt like this woman was a factor that was going to take me – the me now – somewhere other than here.


That frightened me, and I couldn’t bear it.


But when I think about why it is frightening, I am not sure either.


For me, my life is made up of the experiences of the past week, and even my ego can be said to be based on that.


But my body, which contains the intangible and uncertain things of my ego and psyche, is made up of my life before I lost my memory.


In other words, my body remained the same, even though before I lost my memory, and even though I was a different person now, at least for a week.


○●○●


The hustle and bustle of the main street and the crowds of excited people waiting for the parade gave me a sense of anonymity.


A random crowd of people may not look much different from a swarm of ants, but each and every one of them must have a background in life.


But from one point of view, they are just passers-by, part of the swarm, regardless of their individual lives.


So insignificant that it is fair to say that in this place, they, the individual person, are nothing more than a tally mark in a record.


But to be that tally mark is what I want.


That’s right, I just wanted to be insignificant. I never wanted to be celebrated like the protagonist of a story.


I don’t want to be given a special role, to have my own ideals, or to act spontaneously on the basis of a fixed policy.


I just wanted to be an ordinary individual, bound to the world and buried in it.


More importantly, I wanted to continue to live this life that I had begun to recognize as valuable, albeit now quietly and vaguely, without going against the main currents of life.


On the main street, where the atmosphere is flirtatious and relaxed, I feel a little lazy and at ease when I see families, groups of four or five girls, lovers, older couples, and people who can be found everywhere.


“Excuse me, you there.”


Just as I was thinking this, a man’s voice came from behind me.


“Yes, what is it?”


I turned to see a middle-aged, bearded man with a smile that looked like it had been molded from clay and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.


“Excuse me, miss, are you here for the hero’s parade?”


“Yes, or at least that’s what we intend to do.”


The girl answered instead of me, who was silenced by a sense of alarm.


“You see, I own this department store.”


The man points to a building down the road.


“Oh, wow. It’s the biggest department store in Andersen.”


The girl says in a high-spirited way, but I was fed up.


I didn’t want to be associated with such a tycoon, and I was disgusted by his merchant’s smile.


Perhaps I don’t get on well with the merchant race?


Even though they’re not really a race but a profession.


“Actually, you see, I am also a sponsor of this parade. The parade float will stop in front of my department store, and I’m supposed to give the brave hero and his companions a bouquet of flowers. So I hired the most beautiful and innocent girl in town to give the bouquet, but she seems to have caught a cold and can’t come. So I was wondering if you, in your lovely maid’s outfit, could take her place.”


I firmly refused, saying I didn’t want any trouble, but he didn’t back down, and what’s worse, the girl also encouraged me, saying, “Come on, at least try it. It’s just once”, so I was eventually pushed into doing it.


“Besides, is there anything more perfect than this? I think a maid is the most suitable role for handing out bouquets. I will, of course, pay you a modest reward.”


When I heard about the reward, which was really quite a lot of money, I was tempted and finally agreed.


Well, at least once in a while. I wanted to show the girl that I was of some value to her.


The parade was a great success. And the hero got, what can I say, a hero’s welcome.


As soon as the float came into view, the people who had been chatting quietly started clapping and cheering.


Some danced wildly, back and forth, while the musicians played ostentatious music.


All sorts of ribbons and confetti flew around like rubbish.


The parade float itself was dressed up in a flowing and gorgeous way and was so big and tall that it took four horses to pull it.


There was a man standing at the top, waving his hands in theatrical fashion.


He must be the hero.


His bright red armor and fluttering blond hair hurt my eyes.


His face became clearer as he got closer, but what could I say? He is younger than I expected. He even looks like a teenager.


The smile on his face was so confident that it seemed to spread a stench in all directions.


When they reached the street in front of us, the float stopped, just as the department store owner had said it would.


The musicians changed their tune, and the shouts of praise from the crowd took an upward turn.


“Come, hold this.”


The bearded proprietor handed me a bunch of flowers.


I sighed, having no choice, took them and walked towards the gaudy parade float.


Four or five of the staff quickly built a makeshift staircase.


I anxiously climbed it, step by step.


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