The Masochist's Deadly Technique
The morning in the northern forest was damp and chilly. The fog that had settled overnight refused to lift, leaving the air hazy, and the only sound breaking the silence was the faint crackle of embers from the campfire. The uncles who had been so rowdy the night before, shouting things like "Hey, kid! Bring us some hair of the dog!" were now as quiet as mice. It was all because one uninvited guest—no, one superior—had joined their group.
"......"
Cecilia, deputy commander of the Imperial Central Knights. She hadn't even folded her blanket, instead drawing her sword and meticulously wiping it down. Her silver hair, sharp as frost, lay calmly damp with morning dew, but the aura she radiated was so icy it seemed to freeze the air around her. The uncles kept sneaking glances at her, fidgeting nervously.
That was when Hans moved. With a soft clink, he silently poured water into a large pot. He shredded the leftover meat from last night's grill, soaked the dried vegetables he'd prepared in advance, and began simmering a stew. He was careful with the water ratio now that their numbers had increased. His movements were efficient, without a single wasted motion. Instead of tasting with the ladle, he checked the saltiness purely by aroma and color before adding another pinch. And that wasn't all.
He picked up the outer coat Cecilia had carelessly tossed aside, shook it out, folded it with military precision—sleeves and collar aligned perfectly—and placed it neatly beside her pack. The empty liquor bottles the uncles and Kane had drained and scattered the night before were collected without so much as a clink, stuffed into a sack. He moved like a ghost. Or like a seasoned servant who'd spent his entire life cleaning up after others.
Cecilia paused in polishing her blade and glanced sideways at him.
'Strange.'
In front of her beauty and status, men's reactions usually fell into one of two categories: excessive fawning and flattery, or prickly defensiveness born from inferiority. But this man was different. Hans hadn't spared her a single glance. He wasn't treating her as an attractive woman or an inconvenient superior—he regarded her with the dry detachment of someone simply dealing with piece of luggage number one.
That utter indifference strangely grated on Cecilia's nerves.
"Isn't it bothersome?" Cecilia tossed out.
"An extra person showed up without warning. Food supplies must be tight."
Hans kept stirring the stew without even turning his head.
"It's all the same work anyway. Just means one more spoon. Don't worry about it."
His answer was utterly dry. There was neither irritation nor goodwill in his voice. In truth, Hans's only inner thought was, Man, this stew smells amazing. I want to eat it already.
Cecilia's eyes narrowed.
'This man... serving others is second nature to him. And at a highly trained level, too.'
A strange sense of déjà vu. The image of the training grounds, always perfectly tidied after practice during their academy days, flashed through her mind.
Right after the meal, while everyone was busy preparing to depart, Kane called Hans over.
"Hey, kid. Come with me for a bit. Let's go gather some herbs over there."
Kane's eyes gleamed with a shady glint. Hans stood up with an expression that said, Here it comes. It was the secret ultimate technique Kane had boasted about the night before.
The two crouched down behind some bushes in a secluded spot.
"Master! Are you finally going to teach me?" Hans's eyes sparkled with excitement.
Kane cleared his throat with an exaggeratedly serious expression.
"Ahem. Listen well, kid. This technique... is a form of mind sword, considered the pinnacle of swordsmanship and the peak of human relationships."
"Mind sword...!"
Hans covered his mouth in awe. A blade that could cut through the heart itself, straight out of those martial arts novels.
"It breaks the opponent's momentum and slices through their will, leaving them completely immobilized. It's especially effective against prideful women like that Cecilia bitch, whose ego is harder than steel."
"Whoa! What is it?"
Kane wagged his index finger side to side.
"Simple. It's becoming a bad guy."
"......?"
Silence fell over the forest. Even the birds seemed to stop chirping.
Hans's face slowly twisted.
"......Excuse me?"
"Ignore her, speak down to her, and don't make eye contact. Show her you're annoyed as hell. Give curt answers to questions and act distracted when she talks to you. That's the mind sword that cuts through a woman's arrogance."
Kane spoke with the gravity of someone preaching the world's greatest truth.
Hans let out a hollow laugh, completely dumbfounded.
"Master, are you joking right now? I wanted to learn swordsmanship that can chop an orc's head clean off, not some technique for picking up women!"
Hans burst out in frustration.
"What the hell would I do with something like that! I want to get stronger!"
"You idiot! A sword is swung with the heart! If you can't even cut a woman's heart, how do you expect to cut an orc?!"
Kane gave Hans a firm smack on the head.
"Think about it. She's the youngest deputy commander in the empire, with both beauty and skill—nothing lacking. Men have probably worshipped her her whole life. If you act cold to a woman like that? It's a bigger shock than getting stabbed with a blade!"
Kane's logic sounded plausible yet somehow like a total scam.
"That stubborn one thinks she's the center of the universe. If you treat her like she's invisible, her mentality will crumble and she'll wear herself out and leave on her own. I guarantee it."
Kane stared deep into Hans's eyes and lowered his voice as if passing down a legendary technique.
"Plus, once you master this mind sword, you'll be able to read not just a woman's killing intent but an enemy's as well. That's the realm of insight the true masters talk about."
Hans looked at him with clear suspicion. But he had no other options.
"Just trust me and follow along. If you pull this off, I'll definitely teach you how to handle the aura you've been dying to learn."
Hans swallowed hard. Aura. Just hearing the word made his heart race.
"......Understood. I'll treat her like she's completely invisible. Being rude is something I'm good at."
"That's it! Exactly! And don't make eye contact! Got it?"
Kane grinned wickedly and slapped Hans on the back.
Heh heh heh. Hook, line, and sinker. That Cecilia bitch is the type who gets fired up when ignored and chases you to the ends of the earth. You're hooked now, kid.
Noon. The sun hung directly overhead.
The group took a short break in a clearing in the woods.
"Whew..."
Hans set down his pack and sat on a tree stump. The strap must have loosened during the trek because the pack kept tilting to one side. Without thinking, he loosened the strap and retied it. His hands moved from pure muscle memory.
He grabbed the end of the cord, formed a loop, crossed the cord through it, and pulled it tight. Then he coiled the dangling end into a neat circle and tucked it cleanly into the knot. Most adventurers tied sloppy knots or used simple bows, but this was the textbook method taught in the Imperial Academy's Tactical Logistics class—the most efficient knot that would never come undone accidentally but could be released in a single pull.
"......"
Cecilia, who had been tilting her canteen, froze mid-motion. Her hawk-like gaze locked onto Hans's fingertips. She remembered it too. It was the exact knot she'd practiced until her fingers blistered back in her first year at the academy. The instructor's furious shouts of "On the battlefield, a single cord can mean the difference between life and death!" were still vivid in her memory.
'That's not a technique a country bumpkin could learn by watching over someone's shoulder.'
Next, Hans drank some water and shouldered his pack again. He shook the dirt from his boots and stood. The ground was thick with fallen leaves, yet there was almost no rustling sound when he rose. He didn't drag his feet; instead, he lifted his heels and shifted his center of gravity toward his toes—a silent footwork technique.
Cecilia's eyes gleamed with certainty.
'This isn't a coincidence. These are habits ingrained to the bone. They're exactly the postures from the manuals. Just who is this guy?'
She closed the lid of her canteen and slowly stood up.
"Let's move out!" the lead uncle shouted. Hans adjusted his pack.
That was when it happened.
Tap.
Cecilia stepped directly in front of him, looking up at his face.
"That knot. Where did you learn it?"
A direct question. Hans's heart sank with a thud.
'Did she figure it out? That I'm from the academy?'
If it came out that they were academy classmates, she'd grill him endlessly, and his dark past would inevitably be dug up.
Hans recalled Kane's lesson.
Mind sword. Bad guy. Blow her off.
He hardened his expression completely.
"It's nothing... I just tied it firmly. Now let go."
Hans swatted Cecilia's hand away.
Slap.
The dry sound of impact echoed through the clearing. Cecilia's eyes widened.
Her hand... had been slapped away?
In her entire life, no man had ever treated the empire's youngest deputy commander so coldly. Shock. And bewilderment. But she didn't back down. Instead, she stepped even closer.
"You're lying."
Her voice dropped low.
"That's the exact method from Valhalla Academy's logistics manual. And that footwork just now—it's from first-year basic tactical training."
Cecilia's gaze pierced through him.
"You're from the academy, aren't you? And... you're someone I knew."
Hans swallowed hard.
"The nameless manager who always cleaned up after me..."
The words that came from Cecilia's lips completely missed Hans's expectations. She didn't remember his name. She remembered his traces.
"Training Ground Number Two. Every time I swung my sword, the ground would be torn up deeply. The dirt would be overturned and stones would jut out, leaving it a complete mess."
Cecilia stared straight into Hans's eyes.
"But the next morning... it would always be magically restored. Perfectly flat and smooth, without a single pebble. So I wouldn't twist my ankle."
Her voice trembled ever so slightly.
"The nobles probably thought I'd ordered a servant. But I saw it. At four in the morning, while everyone else was asleep, your back as you pushed that roller covered in dirt."
Hans's heart dropped with a heavy thud.
She... had seen that?
Ordinary commoner Hans. His one-sided crush on the swordsmanship genius Cecilia. How he'd spent entire nights leveling the training ground so she wouldn't get hurt during practice. How he'd lacked the courage to even say a single word to her and would vanish like a ghost whenever she appeared.
"The guy who would run away the moment I tried to approach and talk to him. That was you, wasn't it?"
Cecilia's eyes held more desperate longing to confirm the answer to a long-held mystery than accusation.
A corner of Hans's chest ached.
'So you knew. About everything I did.'
But now wasn't the time to get sentimental. If he confessed here—"Yes, that was me. I liked you"—this woman would either treat him like a stalker or pester him even more with questions like "Why did you run away back then?"
Kane was right. He had to cut it off.
Hans took a deep breath and put on the most rude expression he could manage.
"Ugh, how annoying."
Hans frowned deeply and made a show of digging in his ear.
"Don't you have anything better to do, knight? I'm busy. Save the novels for your diary and keep your delusions in check."
A cold rebuke. Hans bumped her shoulder as he walked past.
"Move. Stop blocking the path."
He walked toward the uncles without looking back. His heart was pounding like it would explode.
Whew... I almost had a heart attack. That should have made her lose interest, right? I hope Master Kane was right. Please, just leave. I can't get tangled up with any more women. I'm at my limit.
Hans was confident his acting had been perfect.
But.
The expression on Cecilia's face as she watched him go was the complete opposite of what he'd expected. She stared blankly at his retreating back for a moment, then bit her lip.
'How dare... he ignore me?'
A flame ignited in her eyes. It wasn't contempt or disappointment. It was a burning competitive spirit. And intense curiosity.
A man who had so brazenly brushed off her interrogation and even spoken down to her as if she were a nuisance. No one except her master Kane had ever treated her this way.
'Liar. No matter how much you try to hide it, you can't fool my eyes.'
The corner of Cecilia's mouth twisted upward.
'This is interesting. That mask... I'll be sure to rip it off myself.'
Kane's scam had succeeded in the worst possible way.