The Rank-3 Mercenary Wants to Cut Me Down

"You — I came to cut you down."

The tip of her blade stopped dead, a hair's breadth from my throat.

A chill ran through the night wind as it slid along the edge.

I raised both hands, very, very slowly. The way you do when apologizing for a botched delivery.

"...Excuse me. If this is a delivery mix-up, returns are accepted, you know."

"Is this a situation for jokes?"

"It's not a joke. Returns are absolutely a thing. — I even have a receipt. It's all logged in the app."

Karin's eyebrow moved. Just barely. Exactly that much and no more.

Her face was blank, but the sword didn't waver an inch. This was the kind of stillness that only comes from ten years of living on the edge of a blade.

Rank 3 on the continent. S-class mercenary. — Her entire reputation was riding on that blade's point.

Three days after transmigrating, the Management Bureau had come hunting for me. Tonight, it was the continent's number three come to cut me down.

What a wonderfully eventful life this National Treasure was having.

"Name," Karin said.

"Kang Dohyun."

"Occupation."

"Delivery rider."

"...Delivery rider."

"Yes. A real one. I even have the apron. Want to see it?"

"Move, and I cut."

"Not moving. My hands are just shaking."

Karin looked me up and down, slowly. The eyes of someone inspecting merchandise.

"So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"That one man has been making an absolute fool of an entire female-dominated continent."

"I've never made a fool of anyone. All I've done is run. Very diligently, mind you."

"That is making a fool of them. Everyone's going mad because they can't catch you."

"And I'm going mad because I don't want to be caught."

Karin tilted the blade ever so slightly.

"One of two things ends tonight. You, or this."

I started running numbers in my head.

Run. The usual. The thing I'd done most since arriving in this world.

Quick Service.

I opened the system.

...Son of a bitch.

Again.

I'd burned one jump yesterday escaping to Lara's coordinates, then torched half the day at the Management Bureau plaza this afternoon.

One emergency teleport, one full day of cooldown. Coins melting alongside it.

There was no such thing in this world as a system that teleported you for free. Coins were always short, and the cooldown was always hot. Those two things were the leash the system kept around my neck.

You'd think it'd be convenient. It's not.

The moment you truly need it, it's always locked — exactly like the delivery app's servers crashing at peak dinner rush.

And right now was precisely that server-crash moment.

Forty-seven minutes left on the clock, and standing square in front of those forty-seven minutes was a swordmaster.

Forty-seven minutes. In front of a rank-3 mercenary with a drawn blade, forty-seven minutes might as well have been a lifetime.

I quietly folded up my mental calculator.

No ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠running. Not tonight.

Karin adjusted her grip on the sword.

"Don't move."

"I told you, I'm not moving. My legs gave out."

"Liar."

"It's true. I'm currently holding in the urge to pee, too."

"..."

"Kidding. Half-kidding."

The blade came.

Fast. Far too fast for my eyes to track.

And then — a line appeared across my vision.

A blue line spread across the ground.

That shortest delivery route the system always drew when I was sprinting through alleys — the line that dodged dead ends, crowds, and dog droppings alike.

Right now, it had redrawn itself as a line for dodging swords.

My body moved on its own.

Half a step. Exactly half a step.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blade grazed my cheek and smashed into the wall with a crunch.

Stone dust rained down.

"...Huh?" I blinked.

"...Huh?" Karin blinked too.

We were both stunned. We'd never been so perfectly in sync about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anything before.

Karin pulled her blade free and swung again — this time a downward chop, straight from above.

The blue line flickered up. One step sideways. I slipped past it by a hair.

That line was precise. Precise down to the decimal point. Swing from the left, it drew me right. From above, it drew me low. Thrust, and it pulled me half a step back.

Just like the delivery app steering me into a back alley when the main road jammed, it was plotting a path of survival instead of a path of steel.

Third strike. Fourth. Fifth.

I kept dodging. Barely. Half a step at a time.

It wasn't graceful. I dodged the way you dodge a drunk customer, the way you dodge a carriage that lunges out of nowhere — with every bad habit ten years of deliveries had drilled into my body.

Survival doesn't require good form.

The sixth blade came rising from below, a slash meant to open my belly.

The blue line stamped half a step backward.

My stomach sucked itself in of its own accord — the exact same feel of squeezing through a narrow doorway with a box clutched to my chest.

The blade's tip barely clipped the hem of my apron.

"...You're paying for that apron. That's my work uniform."

"Shut up and dodge."

"I am dodging! While holding a conversation, no less!"

Karin's breathing grew heavier by degrees.

"Why," she asked in a low voice, "can't I hit you?"

"Beats me. My body's just doing its thing."

"Nonsense."

"It's true, though. I could probably dodge with my eyes closed at this point. — Okay, that part's a lie."

Just then, footsteps thundered on the second floor.

Mia came scrambling down the stairs in her pajamas.

"Senior! What's all the noise—"

"Get back upstairs!" Sera grabbed Mia from behind.

"Let go! I have to protect Senior! I'm Member Number One!"

"Number One charges a swordmaster bare-handed? You'll die!"

"That's fine! I hold the front row! The front row is supposed to be dangerous!"

Mia thrashed while Sera locked her in a bear hug from behind.

Karin glanced at the spectacle. She didn't stop her blade, but her eyes lingered there for a moment.

"...What is that."

"My coworker," I said, retreating half a step. "Don't stop her. She means it. Talking her down is pointless."

Karin's eyes stayed on Mia for the briefest instant.

"...So you have people who follow you."

It was a flat remark, but underneath it was something almost — unfamiliar to her.

The tone of someone who had lived her whole life holding nothing but a sword.

"...Hey, you." Karin's gaze swung back to me.

"I'm seriously just a delivery rider. I can't fight. I can't even throw a punch."

"Then why won't you get cut."

"That's the thing. I'd really like to know that myself."

And then it happened.

Karin's sword — sang.

A low hum. Trembling.

Karin froze.

She looked down at her sword.

The blade was quivering, ever so faintly — as if answering something.

"This sword," Karin murmured, "is responding."

"Sounds like it's hungry."

"Quiet."

"Yes, ma'am."

She brought the sword's tip slowly toward my chest.

The closer it came, the louder the blade sang.

A low hum. A deeper hum. It faded when she pulled away, swelled when she drew near — as if it were measuring the exact location of my heart.

The system flared to life.

Same frequency.

My system — and that woman's sword.

...What is this?

Something was answering a wave I'd thought was one of a kind in this world. Since arriving here, my system had always been alone. I'd spoken to it and gotten no reply. I'd assumed the only thing that had rolled over from Earth was me.

But that sword — it understood.

As if it had crossed over from the same place. Like a part machined in the same factory.

A chill crawled up my spine — not from the blade, but from the fact itself.

Then a phrase I'd glimpsed scrolling past in the gallery surfaced in my mind.

The Great Void.

The incident a hundred years ago, when the men of the continent vanished all at once.

Could that sword be from around then too? Something that crossed into this world from the same place, at the same time, as me?

The thought sent a fresh wave of cold down the back of my neck.

I wanted to ask.

But the person I needed to ask was currently holding that sword, so I kept my mouth shut.

This world had more things in it that had crossed over besides just me.

Karin swept the sword away and sheathed it.

"Enough."

"Huh?"

"Verification complete."

"...Verification of what? Because I still haven't verified a single thing."

Karin slung the sword across her back.

Then she pulled something out of her coat.

Not a blade.

An envelope.

A stiff, gold-leafed invitation.

"Take it."

"...What is this? Another trap?"

"A commission."

I accepted it without letting myself get close. I wasn't about to reach out and lose a hand in the process.

Karin let out a short sigh.

"When I said 'cut you down,'" she said, "that's mercenary talk. In our line of work, 'cutting' someone's skill means measuring it."

"...Measuring."

"Whether you're strong. Whether you're worth the price of hiring. — We measure with the blade."

Not cut down. Measured.

She hadn't been trying to kill me. She'd been taking my dimensions.

I wanted a full refund on the nearly-soiled pants of the last forty-seven minutes. With interest.

"Then measure with a ruler! Use an actual ruler!"

"The blade is the most accurate."

"It is NOT accurate! I almost just died!"

"You didn't die, though. — Hence: you pass."

"You're insane."

"That's a compliment."

"It is not a compliment! You test someone's worth by putting a blade to their throat?!"

"The throat is the most honest part of a person. Put a blade to it, and true skill comes out."

I had no comeback.

With that blank face, this woman was delivering absolute nonsense like it was gospel.

"So what's the verdict, then?" I asked. "What's my score?"

"A perfect score."

"...I'm sorry?"

"First perfect score in ten years. You didn't take so much as a scratch."

Her face was as blank as ever, but the words perfect score came out strangely — seriously.

I'd just been complimented, and I didn't feel happy at all.

Because I'd earned that perfect score with my life on the line.

"Next time, just ask me. 'Are you strong?' I'll answer."

"Mouths lie. Blades don't."

Sera burst through the door, still clamping Mia under one arm.

"Hey! Are you actually a real swordmaster? If our Dohyun got so much as a scratch—"

"He didn't," Karin said flatly. "I couldn't land a single hit. — First time in ten years."

Sera's mouth fell open.

The continent's rank three couldn't cut down one delivery rider. The fact dropped into the room like a stone.

Mia's eyes sparkled from inside Sera's armlock.

"Did you hear that?! Our Senior is the first in ten years! I knew it!"

"That's not something to brag about..." Sera pressed a hand to her forehead.

Karin pressed the invitation firmly into my hand.

"Three days from now. High society. Hosted by Ducal House Aska."

"Why on earth would I go there?"

"The client wants you. I'm the escort." She turned away. "You run expensive, you know that?"

"How much did the client pay you, exactly?"

"Five hundred gold."

Five hundred gold.

I did a quick calculation. In this world, a single fried chicken was a month's wages for most people. A can of cola was a week's pay.

Five hundred gold was — roughly several years' worth of fried chicken. Batter generously included.

That was why this woman had come in the dead of night to put a blade to a stranger's throat. For several years of chicken money.

"Who's paying, exactly?"

"Classified. It's a contract."

"At least tell me the client's name—"

"Contract."

Her answers were as sharp as her blade.

Karin walked out the door.

Then, a few steps down the alley, she stopped.

She laid a hand on her chest.

"...What now," Sera called after her. "What is it this time?"

"My heart," Karin said, pressing hard against her chest. "It sped up."

"Because you were fighting?"

"The fight ended a while ago."

Karin frowned — the face of someone experiencing something for the very first time in her life.

A woman who had spent ten years living on a blade, flustered by the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Something that never raced is racing," she murmured. "Why is my heart speeding up. — Is it an illness."

It's not an illness, trust me.

I almost said it out loud, then let it go.

Even if I told her, she wouldn't believe me. She'd probably just try to measure it with her sword again.

Karin stared down at her palm for a moment.

Then, with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, she vanished into the dark.

Her receding footsteps were a touch faster than usual.

A woman as indifferent as a blade, fleeing as if in retreat from nothing more than her own heartbeat.

...Well, a retreat was a retreat, I supposed.

And she clearly had no idea what was happening to her.

In the alley where Karin had disappeared, I flipped the invitation over.

Gold leaf. Wax seal. And a crest.

Aska.

It was Lena.

The one who'd summoned me into high society was Lena von Aska. That glacial duchess's heir ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had spent five hundred gold, hired the continent's rank three as my personal bodyguard, and called for me.

...What exactly are you playing at, seriously.

Sera popped a can of cola beside me. Fsssh.

"Here. Your survival bonus."

"That's a week's wages, you know. Just cracking it open like it's nothing."

"The National Treasure didn't die today. Consider this a celebration."

I took a sip. The carbonation bit pleasantly at my throat on the way down.

This one can was somebody's food budget for a week in this world, and the single invitation in my hand was — most likely — the going price for my life.

A night of holding a week's-wage cola and a life-priced invitation.

It was hilarious, really. This world trembled at the price of one can of cola, then cheerfully dropped five hundred gold just to summon a single man.

A world with every price tag flipped upside down.

And sitting at the very top of that inverted price chart — of course — was me.

Mia finally wriggled free of Sera's arm and glued herself to my side.

"Senior, you're not hurt, right? Let me see your face. Your cheek got grazed, didn't it? Here! Here!"

"I'm fine. Dodged it all by half a step."

"That's our Senior." Mia puffed up her cheeks, then quickly pouted. "But why's that sword lady the escort instead of me? I'm Member Number One."

"You can't use a sword."

"I can learn!"

"In three days?"

"For this job, yes!"

"Yeah, no. Get some sleep."

Mia pouted harder — while deftly stealing my cola and taking two big gulps of it.

My week's wages halved in seconds.

"By the way, Senior," Mia said, sucking the last drop from the can. "If you're going to high society... do I get to come too?"

"Not you."

"Why not!"

"That's a noble's playground. You don't have a name tag."

"Then I'll make one! 'Guild Member No. 1 — Mia,' big and bold, right across the front."

"That name tag couldn't even get you over the doorstep."

Sera cut in from the side. "With that name tag, you wouldn't cross a doorstep. You'd cross a war zone."

Mia's eyes lit up. "Sera, that's a compliment, right?"

"It's an insult."

The system blinked to life.

Combat assist, huh.

An app I'd opened to make deliveries now helps me dodge people swinging swords at my head.

Couldn't decide whether that was convenient or terrifying.

...Her face was red?

That was one piece of intel even I didn't have.

If anything in this world moved faster than a blade, it was always gossip.

The gallery was always half a step quicker than me.

And that red-faced swordmaster would be my bodyguard in three days.

If the rumors were even half true, high society was going to be a circus before the curtain ever rose.

I shoved the invitation into my pocket.

For something priced at a human life, the paper was awfully thin.