Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

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"[Bubble Snare]" I envelop him in my water prison for a moment before dispelling the spell, letting the water drop to the floorboards with a giant splash.

"Wha-what?" He asks after getting his makeshift shower done. At least a bit more life is visible in his eye. Maybe we can hold a brief conversation this way.

Beatrice grabs her mask and takes it off. "Bea?! You're back…!" The man gets off the floor and with shaky limbs, slowly, painfully manages to crawl to his daughter. He didn't even try standing. Doing so would probably be way beyond his capabilities at this point. "So glad…!

So happy!" He whispers the words amid teary sobs.

However, before he could reach her legs and grab onto her robe, she took a step back defensively. Just a glance is enough to tell me that she is on the brink of a breakdown. Even I feel sick to the stomach when I look at this worm, and he is a complete stranger to me. But, to her, he is a father who once was her bastion of strength, her provider and protector.

"That's far enough. Stay where you are." I instruct, making him turn his head my way.

He examines me for a few seconds, then questions, "who you?"

"He is Lord Quinlan… The benevolent man who saved me and Anna." Beatrice whispered my introductions with a pained tone.

The father's eyes brighten up. "Anna! Yes! Yes, I have another child…! Anna!"

I can't help but comment disgustedly. "So you forgot about her, huh? Well, you probably didn't even know which world you were living in a few seconds ago, so it's understandable."

"World… World…"

… Now he is just muttering some nonsense.

What a tragic sight this is. Now I understand why my government was cracking down on cartels so hard. It's one thing to read about in the news and an entirely another experience to see its effects in the flesh.

"Do you know what your name is?" I inquire.

"Name. Name? Name! Uh. G-B-D? Ga?

Ga?"

"Your name is Gilbert!" Beatrice shrieked. She couldn't bear it any longer and began loudly sobbing.

"Gilbert…? Gilbert! Yes." He nodded, then glanced at his daughter. "Bea, what's wrong? Did you hurt your knee again while washing the clothes?"

"Nah, we are not doing this. Old loser, do you remember what you've done?" I interject, cutting his moment of delirium short.

"My daughter is hurt! I have to help!"

"Help…? Help?!" Beatrice began shouting. "You sold me and Anna to the Wraithclaws, you piece of shit! We were a mere moment away from either dying or becoming sex slaves, you sad excuse of a father! I despise you more than anything in this world!"

Oh boy. We'll wake the neighborhood up. I walk to her and put a hand on top of her head. She looks up at me questioningly, then realizes my issue and quiets down, though her anger levels did not lessen one bit.

"Huh? I..? I did what??" He gazes up at us puzzledly. His features are filled with sheer bewilderment.

I can't decide if this is a coping mechanism or if the drug is so strong that his memory is completely ruined. Probably both to a degree, I guess.

"You sold your daughters for drugs, you retarded mongrel." I repeat to him. "You're the biggest failure of a father I've ever seen in my entire life."

He freezes while staring at us mutedly. His brain is working overtime to let him understand my words.

Gilbert's eyes suddenly flutter wide open, "no! No! No!!!! Noooooo!!!!" and begins slamming his head into the floor, his sickly skin ripping apart from the movements, but he shows no reaction. Perhaps he can't even feel pain at this point.

Beatrice can no longer bear the sight and seeks solace in my presence by hugging me desperately while hiding her head into my chest. "My Lord… I can't… What should I do…?"

I envelop the trembling teen firmly. My usually cold heart is contorting with pain. I hate seeing this bright young girl be like this.

"You know, while we were on the way here I was debating if we could cure him. Something like forcing him to quit taking drugs completely by strapping him to a chair in the inn or something but… This man is too far gone. He is dying both physically and mentally, and I don't think we can heal him… If Iselda's sickly daughter couldn't be healed by an arch-priest, how could this... thing be saved?

Furthermore, the real issue is his mind. Beatrice… I honestly believe that he is beyond saving."

This world is not a fairy tale when everything goes according to my wishes. If I could, I would cast some spell on him that reverts him to how he was before the narcotic addiction began, but that will simply not happen.

I also can't torture him, or more specifically I see no reason to. His body doesn't even register pain, and based on his current state, his mind is experiencing the greatest anguish possible by coming face to face with the fact that he sold his once cherished children.

There's nothing that can be done besides…

"I will put him out of his misery, Beatrice." I announce my decision. I don't want her to bear with the fact that she committed patricide throughout her entire life. She carries more than enough mental baggage for a lifetime as is.

I know that deep down she understands that this needs to be done as well. After all, the glance and nod we exchanged back at the inn that started this all said more than enough back then. She doesn't want to exist on the same planet as this man does, however, he is still her once beloved father, so she is going through great mental conflicts.

With announcing my decision, she doesn't have to even nod in agreement. If she stays silent I will do it, of my own accord, and I hope that doing it in this manner will result in her not blaming herself for his death.

Her grip tightens around my waist for a moment as she nuzzles her head into my chest. Well, stomach to be more accurate, since I'm too tall. "Go wait outside. It will be done quickly."

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