Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.7 – Irene Windler is the Neighbor Next Door (3)
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"-Why don't you stay for dinner, Cadet Irene."
"P-Pardon?"
"It's getting late, and it'd feel bad just sending you off like this after you've brought all this over."
"I-It was just something I prepared because I wanted to..."
"People have a sense of courtesy. Can't just send you packing like that. Leira."
"Yes, sir!"
"Warm up some beef stew and bread, please."
"Leave it to me!"
"...Don't overdo it. Take it slow, please."
"??"
"I-I'll help you out."
Irene was quick on the uptake, so she approached Leira to lend a hand with the preparations.
Lee Han watched with a pleased expression as he rummaged along the wall and grabbed two hand axes hanging there.
"I'll go chop some firewood while that's going. Take good care of Leira for me, Cadet Irene."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
Somehow, everything was happening in a rush.
Irene found herself unexpectedly staying for dinner, but deep down, she was relieved she wouldn't have to eat alone.
Sure, the ghost chattering nonstop inside her was a bother, but ghosts didn't have any warmth to them anyway.
'He's a considerate guy, huh?'
Irene stared at his back as he headed out the door, wondering if this seemingly rough-looking man might actually be thoughtful and good at looking after others.
—However, contrary to her expectations...
Screeech.
"......"
The face of the man stepping out the door was utterly devoid of any gentle warmth—only a cold, barren hardness lingered there.
Around the quiet cabin.
It looked like nothing more than a peaceful scene straight out of a storyteller's fairy tale to any onlooker, but amid that serenity, Lee Han felt an unmistakable distortion.
Gripping the two hand axes tighter, he stepped forward.
"-Come out."
-......
"Just so you know, I only give two warnings."
As Lee Han's eyes began to flash wildly and his aura built up...
Whoosh.
The 'intruders' revealed themselves.
A suspicious group clad in black garb.
There had to be over thirty of them, and Lee Han's expression didn't soften one bit as he eyed the black-clad bunch.
Then.
"Calm down. We're not here to threaten you."
The one among the black-clad group with the most imposing presence spoke up, offering excuses.
"Ha, if you're not here to threaten us, then why are you radiating such dangerous vibes everywhere?"
"......"
"Anyone can see you're a shady bunch."
Excuses had to make sense for anyone to buy them.
Who'd believe a group reeking of blood?
That said...
"That goes for you too."
"What?"
"If we're talking dangerous, you're no slouch either, you commoner. How can we stay calm with trash like you hanging around the young miss?"
"...Ha, would you look at this guy?"
The height of audacity.
Seeing the gall of this brazen fool made Lee Han's head cool with irritation instead.
His heartbeat thrummed heavily in response, and slowly...
Thud.
"Nah, can't let the others slide, but you? You're getting hit."
"Nonsense."
Lee Han tossed his axes to the ground and closed in on the black-clad man who irked him most. In turn, the other man...
"I won't kill you."
Whether he liked Lee Han's proposal or not, he handed his drawn sword to a comrade and advanced.
The next instant.
Thwack!
Boom!
The two men dove straight into trading punches without another word.
...It was the start of an utterly random brawl.
Lee Han's fists—no, his body—were strong.
Even just from having troll factors, his raw power was extraordinary, but he'd relentlessly honed that exceptional physique to the point where he could smash a knight flat using nothing but his physical prowess.
Proof of that? The Pollet Family's vice knight commander he'd beaten down the day before.
So once it turned into a fistfight, hardly anyone could beat Lee Han.
Hell, you weren't even supposed to fight him barehanded to begin with.
Yet...
Thwack! Thwack-thwack!
Boom!
Thoom!
A fight was breaking out.
No, it wasn't just breaking out—
Crack!
"...Gotta admit, that stung."
"What, you just gonna talk your way through a fight?"
"Doubt it."
Boom!
Lee Han was being pushed back.
He'd never lost a physical brawl before, but right now, he was getting overwhelmed.
The black-clad man's punches were swift and refined, clearly honed through proper martial arts training.
Considering how most knights fixated solely on swordsmanship, this was unusual—but right now, none of that mattered to them.
And why was that?
Crack!
Because their sole focus was forcing the other to 'submit'.
Lee Han and the black-clad man's fists collided.
The heavy clash echoed like breaking bones for a split second, but it wasn't their bones—it was the pebbles crunching underfoot.
Whoosh!
Lee Han unleashed a flurry of jabs like a boxer, each one whistling ominously.
Six trajectories carved through the air—brushing against flesh would tear it open.
But the black-clad man dodged or parried every punch, slipping inside to kick Lee Han's calf.
Light on power, but piercing to the bone with its sharpness.
Some guys were like that.
Some packed weight into their strikes; others packed a 'blade'.
His whole body wasn't a razor, but every hit left Lee Han's skin reddening deeper.
Yet Lee Han's strikes were no joke either.
If the opponent's carried a blade's edge, Lee Han's were like hammer blows.
Thoom!
"...Fine, I'll give you that, commoner. Fists pack a punch, at least."
Lee Han's blow slammed into the man's gut, blood trickling from his mouth.
It was a gut-shaking hit that should've dropped him on the spot.
But oddly, the guy stayed upright, and Lee Han twitched an eyebrow.
"Not planning to go down yet?"
"All talk, as usual."
Boom!
No more words needed.
Strikes flew again, and with each one, Lee Han and the black-clad man ignored defense entirely—either tanking punches and kicks head-on or batting them away.
A battle of pride.
No idea when it'd devolved into this, but their fight had become a no-holds-barred slugfest of pure offense.
Hit, and get hit back. Then hit harder to make up for it.
In terms of striking, neither man lagged behind anyone—their brutal fisticuffs were vicious, and every glancing blow shattered the surroundings with whooshes of air.
Trees pierced through, rocks crumbled like tofu, debris scattered and halved.
"......"
"......"
Despite the pain of taking hits, neither man cried out as they kept pounding away, until eventually, more than just strikes got mixed in.
Whoosh!
Catch-as-catch-can wrestling.
A grappling style blending joint locks and submissions, known for its gentlemanly adherence to decorum.
But the black-clad man's version was anything but gentlemanly—more like a snake coiling threateningly around its prey.
'This bastard's a grappler!?'
A spine-chilling level of perfection sent chills down his spine.
Lee Han had to admit it.
This guy had trained a technique matching his physical gifts his whole life, or else he was born with insane talent and a body to match.
Excluding outliers like Baltar, he'd never met anyone stronger.
And that...
'...Fuck, why's this so fun?'
Lee Han was getting genuinely thrilled by the situation, despite not being some pervert who got off on fighting the strong.
And that...
Whoooosh!
...Unleashed his restraints.
'What kinda guy's that?'
'Someone squaring off head-on with Sir Lake...?'
'...Unbelievable.'
Meanwhile, the other black-clad watchers let out silent gasps at the duel.
Who was Sir Lake?
A monster who'd shone in training camps since childhood, earning even Duke Galahad's incredulous praise. He'd been granted the name 'Lake'—reserved for the Galahad house's finest knight.
Yet here Lake was, being pushed back by some no-name knight.
'But he's fighting well, so why's he losing?' you ask?
'He started using techniques.'
Grappling techniques, no less.
Those were for when stamina flagged in spars with the knight commander or their revered lord, Duke Galahad.
So the black-clad men figured it was over.
They knew how perfected and terrifying his skills were.
...But.
"...That lunatic?"
They gasped anew.
Not just because he'd matched Lake's strikes earlier—this was shock on a whole other level.
Grrrrrind!!
"He just powered out of that hold? ...With raw strength?"
Even locked in the technique, the knight called Lee Han rose up.
Arms and shoulders at risk of snapping, neck choked—yet he endured and lifted, bones crunching audibly.
"...Total madman."
"It'll heal in time anyway."
"Wanna test that?"
"Go ahead."
Crack-crack!
The grinding intensified, but Lee Han clamped down harder, trapping the man even tighter.
No escape.
"Don't let go—I'll finish you like this."
"Bring it."
Neither Lee Han nor Lake had any intention of yielding—they ramped up even more.
Flesh for bone.
Offering meat to seize the skeleton.
Throat clogged and shoulder crumbling, Lee Han still prepped to slam the man down, while Lake poured power into shattering that shoulder—only to feel bafflement as it refused to break further.
As their pride-fueled deathmatch neared its climax...
[-Stop.]
"......"
"......"
A 'third party they couldn't defy' commanded them to drop their pride.
[Cease this. Release Lake's arm. You too, stand down.]
"...He lets go first."
"I'll stop if the commoner admits defeat."
[...Does this sound like a request?]
"......"
"......"
[On three, you both release. One, two, three—]
Crack!
Thud!
"...Not letting go?"
"You neither."
[...Sigh.]
They ignored him to the end, spilling more blood.
Damn their pride—the two refused to end it, drawing a sigh from the onlooker.
Unlike the intel Lee Han had, this seemed like a normal guy without much mania.
The head of House Galahad in this era.
Blake Vivian de Galahad let out a deep sigh.
His head throbbed watching the incorrigible young duo.