“I’m nearly fifty years old, you son of a b*tch!”

Raynald, commander of the kingdom’s knights, had a simple dream: to retire peacefully in a small estate granted to him, spending the rest of his days without a single worry.

But the estate he received from the king was a godforsaken wasteland overflowing with monsters that needed exterminating and crawling with nothing but insolent young men…

“So, old man, what brings you all the way out to a countryside like this?”

Will Raynald be able to survive in the kingdom’s worst estate, surrounded by rude youths?

“Watch out, my lord!”

Raynald heard the scream rising from below, but it was already too late. He felt a chilling sensation as three or four tent**les slithered up through the gap around his waist—one he thought he had secured tightly.

“Damn it, I let my guard down!”

Though he managed to slice through a few of the tent**les with his sword, his balance was already shot. Just as he was about to helplessly fall, several tent**les rewrapped themselves tightly around his waist. If he cut them, all the effort he had made to climb this far would be in vain and he’d fall again. But if he left them alone, he’d be completely immobilized. It was a dilemma.

Still, letting those tent**les be wasn’t an option either. Personal safety was one thing, but there was something far more important at stake. He didn’t want to show such a disgraceful sight to the young men down below, who were shouting with horrified expressions. At the very least, he had to protect his pants. No—he could accept losing the pants if he had to, but he absolutely couldn’t allow anything beneath them to be exposed.

“Don’t shoot, you idiot! Are you trying to make the lord fall?!”

“But still…!”

The young men floundered in panic, unsure of what to do. Some who had tried the reckless act of aiming their crossbows at the tent**les were stopped by their peers, hesitating in place.

A few brave ones attempted to mimic what Raynald had done and approached the tentacle-covered tower, but most of them were so frightened they couldn’t even climb a meter before backing away in fear. Someone’s going to get hurt at this rate. With that judgment, Raynald grit his teeth and shouted.

“Don’t act rashly! I’ll handle it myself!”

Fortunately, he hadn’t dropped his sword. Taking the risk, Raynald cut through the tent**les. His body, now without support, wobbled and began to fall, but luckily, he managed to grab hold of the crossbow bolt Volant had shot earlier. Still, the situation didn’t improve much. A cold sensation crept up his waist as the tent**les slipped right into his underwear.

“You bastards, seriously…!”

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