Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.16 – The Knight Hates Exams (1)
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Swish, swish.
"Yes! All clean!"
A pure-hearted maid with brown hair neatly braided into one and dressed in elegant maid attire flashed a refreshing smile at the spotless house.
It was as if the crisp cleaning sounds had lifted her spirits too.
She was prone to tripping and making all sorts of mistakes, but when it came to diligence, no other maid could hold a candle to her. She was none other than Leira Winter.
...The problem was her knack for flipping people's insides by not getting the point.
However, insults or curses had no effect on Leira.
Having a brain full of flowers meant she didn't even realize she'd been insulted, and instead interpreted everything positively.
In a way, her mental fortitude might be stronger than most mercenaries or knights.
"Maid."
"Miss Irene is here!"
"J-just Irene is fine."
"Hehe, this feels more natural to me. Wait just a bit—we'll have lunch soon!"
"Ah, sure."
It was a rare day off, but Irene Windler had visited the knight's cabin early in the morning.
By now, though, the girl dropping by the cabin was practically routine.
During her lessons on royal etiquette like curtseying from Leira, they had grown close enough to share meals, and at some point, it had become natural for Irene Windler too.
'Ah, this is comfy...'
[Arin-ah. Aren't you a bit too shameless? Eating breakfast and dinner for free every day without paying. I didn't raise you like that.]
'Wh-who's raising who! And it's not free—I bring gifts sometimes. That should cover it.'
[Those gifts are all from the Duke anyway.]
'......'
[You can't repackage someone else's gifts as your own.]
'...You evil ghost.'
Hitting her with straight facts—pure evil.
But regardless of Irene Windler's conscience, neither Leira nor the cabin's owner were the types to call her out on it.
Besides, considering the gifts she occasionally brought were luxury items fit only for the royal court, treating her to a few meals was a gain for them too.
Not that either of them were the type to chase such gains.
"By the way, where's the instructor...?"
Bam!
"There he is."
The moment she looked for the invisible man, she sensed his presence.
A whooshing sound echoed from one corner of the backyard.
Click.
Irene stepped out the back door and, as always, saw the knight training diligently.
Bam!!
"...He's practicing something weird again today."
[Not telekinesis, right?]
"Amazing. Could that be the Hundred Paces Divine Fist?"
[I always think this, but the technique names are kinda unique.]
"Right? Hmm, kinda like Chinese characters...?"
Though possessed by a soul from another world, this college entrance exam-focused high school girl who had never even read manhwa, let alone watched cartoons or movies, could only watch his techniques in awe.
Oblivious to the 'fellow countryman' right before her eyes.
Wooden logs were stacked like dominoes.
Each spaced 20cm apart, about thirty in total. Lee Han targeted these logs.
"Number 7."
Bam!
"Number 11."
Bam!
"Number 9."
Slash!
"...Got it."
Lee Han smiled happily.
From 7 a.m. to noon, after countless attempts, he had finally succeeded 'once'.
For him, though, this one success was everything.
Striking the Ox Through the Mountain.
A method to strike foes without regard for distance or space—the principle behind the Hundred Paces Divine Fist he'd shown the day before stemmed from this.
But he was pushing further, trying to apply this Striking the Ox Through the Mountain principle with sword force instead of fist power.
And today, he had finally succeeded in infusing sword force into the technique.
Proof: a clean sword cut on the ninth log.
The others merely felt struck, but the ninth felt sliced by a blade.
The sharpness of the sword had been transmitted.
Reliving this sensation alone gave Lee Han greater strength than anything.
'The success itself is what matters.'
This was how Lee Han learned techniques.
Keep trying until it worked.
No deadlines, just endlessly, dozens of times a day.
Success rate barely 10% so far, but those rare successes had forged who he was now.
So Lee Han was purely joyful.
The joy of manifesting a technique once only imaginable.
'Next goal: Soaring Dragon Eight Forms.'
If he could change direction eight times mid-air, even Baltar might not catch him.
Then.
Step.
"Practicing another ridiculous technique, I see."
"You're here?"
Whether he'd sensed the presence from the start or not, Lee Han didn't flinch at the sudden third party.
It was a familiar face, after all.
And he said,
"Had lunch? I baked some pies."
"Oh."
It was Jake Farman.
Lee Han's sole comrade and acquaintance in the knights' order.
Crunch!
The apple pie, fragrant with savory sweetness, crunched crisply in his mouth.
Perfectly balanced flavors, uniform crispiness throughout.
Excellent.
And the apple filling's fresh crunch was astonishingly good.
Not mere jam-like mush, but refreshingly fresh, crowned by subtle cinnamon and ginger notes.
This was art, deserving automatic rave reviews.
Even after finishing Leira's meal plus five meat pies and seven apple pies, Lee Han kept devouring pies as if still starving, showering praise.
"Quit being a knight and open a pie shop. What a waste of talent."
"That's what you say to a knight?"
"As if your skills aren't top-notch. Why's a noble so good at cooking?"
"Fallen noble."
"If all fallen nobles were good cooks, we'd all be chefs."
"...I just wanted to feed my siblings tasty food, and my skills grew."
"......Storytelling on point."
Lee Han shook his head.
Meat pie and apple pie.
These ideal pies were masterfully crafted by the knight before him.
Raised without servants as a fallen noble, he'd learned to cook himself, or so he'd said.
Hence his superb culinary skills.
Taste hard to find even in good restaurants, and to his unintentionally refined palate, they were the pinnacle of pies.
(He'd tried royal chefs' versions too.)
In short, this guy outdid royal chefs at pies.
A tragic talent buried by knightly gifts?
Such a shame.
"If you'd been a restaurateur instead of a knight, you'd be hugely successful by now. Maybe even built a merchant guild-sized chain."
"Cut the nonsense. Business isn't easy. And how could a single restaurant rival a merchant guild? Ridiculous."
"Who knows, maybe."
[Franchise] concept alone would guarantee success, but still unfamiliar in this world?
Lee Han considered explaining for his human friend's sake but swallowed it, knowing the guy's knight-for-life path, and munched another apple pie.
Devouring all twelve in a flash.
"So, what's the real reason you baked pies and came all this way?"
"...You're asking now?"
"Belly's full."
"Shameless."
"Next time, quiche."
"I should've kept quiet..."
Jake clicked his tongue at his friend's gall, but couldn't hide his pleasure at the clean plate and praise.
Unbeknownst to him, cooking brought more fulfillment than knight work.
"Ahem. Anyway, two reasons I came. First, those illegal mages you nabbed."
"No idea what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb. Two bodies already found. Traces there match yours perfectly. Commander confirmed it."
"......"
Lee Han's brow furrowed.
'He scripted it this way?'
The regressor had kept Lee Han offstage to the end, intentionally leaving the two dead bugs where the knights would find them—to credit him.
As reward.
But it wasn't the credit he wanted.
He had no thirst for fame anyway.
And as if knowing,
"Still, knowing your style, we buried the fact you took them out. You hate the spotlight. ...And you don't need illegal mages targeting you."
"You get me."
Handy having a competent coworker.
Handles headaches preemptively.
"Reward's coming though. Medal if you want."
"Skip the medal—money instead."
"......"
"What?"
"Just... you're still the same after all this time."
"People don't change easy."
"True enough."
Jake nodded, as if convinced, sipping tea Leira brought.
"You're still the same, huh? Planning to donate that money too?"
"...What're you on about?"
Lee Han shrugged a beat late, feigning ignorance.
But Jake knew.
That money wouldn't stay in Lee Han's pocket.
'...Money from mages or slave traders goes straight to victims.'
Among the few who knew Lee Han's secret missions: Jake.
About using the order's intel to wipe out major slave traders and illegal mages.
He'd learned sharing info while hanging out.
Even where the seized assets went.
'Dishonest guy.'
He distributed all loot from slave traders and illegal mages gratis to the kidnapped or experimented-on victims.
Because he didn't want it.
'That's why no merits pile up.'
By law, such assets revert to the state.
But Lee Han defied it, giving everything to victims and families.
'Could I do that?'
The sums would be astronomical.
Reporting to the order would've meant rapid promotion.
Yet he claimed neither money nor merit.
Citing unease or no need.
Instead, scattering it to help victims.
To Jake, it wasn't unease driving rejection.
Just following conscience, content with basics.
Evidence: his frugal cabin life, no complaints.
Truly.
'A guy uninterested in chivalry...'
...Lives it 'genuinely'.
Jake smirked at the irony in his thoughts.
"Commander won't let you go easily."
"Don't jinx it."
"Who knows..."
Even he'd cling to such a model knight.
A brief warm vibe lingered, but two guys' warmth was useless.
Back to normal, they continued chatting.
"Next: Grand Duke Lionel entered the capital."
"Heard that, but still here?"
Thought he'd ghosted post-war game back north; still around?
"Unfinished business, probably. Won't stay long though. Can't leave the North empty long."
"Why tell me?"
"Your disciple's a top Lionel heir. Might approach you."
"Ugh."
Hated highborn attention.
World never goes your way.
"If so, this month. Best timing for him to move."
"...Best timing?"
Lee Han blinked, confused; Jake looked incredulous.
As if 'How don't you know?'
"...Semester evaluations."
"......Ah."
"Told you to pay attention..."
Jake chided the nominal instructor; Lee Han scratched his head sheepishly.
Had forgotten, dumping duties on assistants.
'Semester evals already?'
The Royal Academy's infamous evaluations.
Why infamous?
'...How many left this time.'
60% of first-years expelled.