Chapter 379: It's Mine (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 379: It's Mine (3)
It hadn't been confirmed yet. My thoughts could be wrong.
Aboard Raven, who galloped at an astonishing speed without so much as brushing a fallen object or the fingertip of a passing child, I clung to the very edge of my sanity.
“Calian, Calian.”
I repeated my own name, a desperate mantra to remember who I was. To remember where I was, what I had to do, and what I must not. To keep myself from losing my mind, running wild, and ruining everything.
To stop myself from killing carelessly.
Clip-clop, clip-clop!
The sound of horseshoes striking the ground echoed through the alleys, across the royal capital, and back into the alleys once more. My heels dug into Raven's sturdy flanks, even though I knew the horse was already giving its all.
“…Calian.”
The faint, trembling voice continued to echo in my mind.
The sanity I barely held onto guided my hand. Atop the giant horse thundering furiously onward, I reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a large black robe.
Anyone would recognize Raven, just as they would recognize my movements. But as long as my face remained hidden, there would be room for plausible deniability.
Even if, by some chance, I had to kill someone in plain sight.
Raven plunged into the shadows. Taking advantage of the darkness, I threw the black robe over myself, pulling the hood low to hide my face.
‘Naeransha.’
A moment later, a signpost came into view.
I had finally reached the place that had felt more distant than the spires of the Secritia Royal Palace. Unlike in Astrisha, the recent explosion had drawn people into the streets. But the clash hadn't been severe enough to cause a panic; instead of fleeing, they were searching for the source of the blast.
Even so, Raven did not slow down.
Weaving through the crowded streets, sometimes dodging obstacles and sometimes leaping over them, the horse advanced steadily toward my destination. Before long, those who recognized Raven began to part, startled by the horse charging at such a terrifying speed. Raven continued to gallop along the narrow path forced open through the crowd.
I arrived at the source of the clamor—an old building in the distance. My gaze locked onto it, drawn by a familiar killing intent I had been sensing for some time. On the roof, I caught fleeting glimpses of two dark figures, their swords clashing.
My suspicion that Eila was in danger was confirmed, and I knew with certainty that she was still alive. Yet, I did not remove my robe. Keeping my red eyes hidden beneath the black fabric, I stared intently at the building's rooftop.
Clip-clop, clip-clop…!
Raven’s pace slowed considerably.
I was still quite far from where Eila was, but the dense crowd made it impossible to ride any further. Just as I resolved to dismount and run the rest of the way—
“Ah, ah!”
Gasps of shock erupted from the crowd. My head snapped upward.
A blue wave tilted over the railing. It lost its balance. It began to fall. A thick, heavy scent of blood weighed on me, and the pungent fragrance of Serenus felt like it was swirling around my heart.
Whoosh!
I launched myself, my feet kicking off Raven's saddle.
She was falling. The building was high. She was too far away. Falling. If she hit the ground, what would cushion the impact? Nothing. There was nothing. She would die. She would die again. I would lose her. Once more, I would be too late.
No.
A pitch-black shadow shot forward like an arrow.
The scent of Eila's blood filled my mind. She was hurt. I didn't know where or how badly, but she was bleeding. Even if I caught her, a sudden jolt could reopen her wounds. Her bones might break. It could make things even more dangerous.
Flutter…!
I tore off the robe, my last refuge, exposing my red eyes. Kicking off the ground, then bounding off walls, I flew through the air. My gaze never left the falling blue wave—the flightless Blue Warbler. I reached for her, my hand closing around her, and pulled her toward me with all my might.
I spread my robe and wrapped it around Eila's body.
To shield her from the impact of rolling on the ground, to prevent even a single grain of sand from touching her wounds.
Eila.
I wrapped her.
I held her close. Unleashing my aura, I enveloped the small figure in my arms.
Crash!
We slammed into the ground. I didn't know how many times we rolled. The sky and the earth spun, blurring my vision. I wasn't even aware of the debris we tumbled over. I just kept rolling, shielding Eila's back and cradling her head.
When the motion finally stopped, I heard a tiny, faint breath. Only then did a breath escape my own lips.
“Ah… I caught you.”
My arms trembled.
I didn't care if it was because they were torn by broken planks of wood or because I was intoxicated by the scent of Serenus.
“Eila.”
…Thank goodness.
I hugged the blue bird wrapped in the black refuge once more, terrified she might slip away if I let go.
“I can’t breathe.”
A small voice spoke.
I could hear her small voice.
“I’m not dead.”
“…Yeah.”
“I’m badly hurt, though. It hurts a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“My hairpin is broken. Buy me a new one.”
“Yeah.”
“If it breaks again, buy me another one.”
“Yeah…”
“Because I’ll get better soon.”
“Yeah.”
“Rashid Brissen. Kill him.”
“I will.”
*
Humans are creatures capable of becoming stronger.
Whether to protect someone else, or to protect themselves.
And so, he had become strong.
Surviving on unsalted boiled chicken breast, giving all the delicious food he loved to others, and pushing aside the urge to give up dozens of times a day, he had worked incredibly hard to become strong.
“Give me a different sandwich sauce, not this one. The one I usually have.”
But what was the point?
“I just developed that one. It’s very popular.”
“It tastes bad.”
“Don’t pick at it like that, take a bite of everything at once…”
“Hey.”
“Never mind. I’ll remake it right away.”
No matter how strong he became, it was useless.
The cafe owner, having barely suppressed his instinctual fear, delicately moved forearms that resembled Raven's hind legs to grill bacon. His finely sculpted, sturdy muscles lifted a loaf of rye bread and sliced it in half. With a merciless movement of hands that could easily crush a robust knight's wrist, a large tomato was sliced clean through.
With precise control that brooked not even a millimeter of error, sauce was spread evenly over the bread. Bacon, tomato, and pure white cheese were layered on top.
Click.
The person who had beautifully sliced the perfect sandwich—a work of art, really—and transferred it to a plate, politely set it down on the table.
The most terrifying person in the world had returned that morning after a night shift, gone into the small room in the corner of the shop, and slept so deeply he wouldn't have noticed the world turning upside down—no, had a sweet sleep—and had only now crawled out to stuff his face—or rather, come out to eat.
That was the table where Needlen Jeia, the Division Commander of Valkan, was sitting.
“It’s so noisy outside I couldn’t sleep. Is there a festival today?” Needlen asked after a long yawn, wetting his throat with a sip of cold milk.
The person sitting opposite him shook their head. “Not really, but there’s a good reason for the commotion. The Young Duchess of Siegfried stopped by our shop a moment ago.”
“What? Why was the Young Duchess here?”
“He bought some ice cream. Strawberry ice cream.”
Thinking of the delicious ice cream topped with fresh strawberries, which was as famous as the sandwiches in this cafe, Needlen tilted his head.
“I didn’t think the Young Duchess would like that kind of thing. That’s unexpected.”
“It looked like he was giving it to the Valkan healer.”
Needlen's hand, which had been reaching for the sandwich, paused for a moment before moving again.
“Why did the two of them come to Astrisha? Did they come to get their outfits tailored for His Highness’s birthday festival?”
“It seems so. The boutique of the tailor in charge of the 3rd Prince’s attire is nearby.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“So it looked like the 3rd Prince was introducing them himself.”
A large slice of tomato plopped out of the sandwich he loved so much.
“Prince Calian came here?”
“Yeah. It looked like he came along to escort His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.”
Why do I get the feeling that every question I ask uncovers more important information? It can’t be just my imagination.
“So you’re saying His Royal Highness Franz was here too, just now?”
“He’s right outside. Can’t you see him?”
Ah.
My younger brother must have filled his head with unsalted chicken breast while building his muscles. Our Vice-Commander has a flower-like younger sibling, but I have a sibling like chicken breast.
Life is truly unfair.
“Scarlet.”
“Scal.”
“Scarlet.”
“Call me Noona, please. Not my name.”
Needlen, who had been shouting his sister's name in disbelief, sprang up from his seat. Leaving his sandwich behind, he rushed out of the shop.
Thanks to that, he saw them.
The Crown Prince and the healer standing in front of the fountain, their hands affectionately clasped together.
And so, he realized. His one and only precious twin sister, Scarlet, had failed to mention the most important detail. Needlen should not have mindlessly stepped outside.
*
An explosion had occurred, and a fight had ensued.
One person had fallen, and someone had flown in to catch her.
The man, who had been checking on the person wrapped in the black cloth cradled in his arms, stood up. He wore a long purple jacket that was clearly valuable, but its sleeve was torn open. Dark red blood dripped from beneath it onto the ground.
Dust covered his entire body, a torn sleeve, and thick drops of blood.
But the onlookers' eyes did not linger on those details. They clearly saw the man gently help the person in the black cloth sit against a wall, take off his torn jacket and uncomfortable vest to lay on the ground, and watched as the thick dust on his disheveled clothes and black robe vanished in an instant—yet they failed to fully register it.
It was because they had seen hair darker than the fallen night, and eyes redder than a flame lighting up the dark.
“Just now…”
Was the person who just flew in really the Prince? Was the person who rolled on the dirty ground—a place even they would never lie—really the Prince? Was the one who saved the falling person just now really the Prince?
And to say he had simply saved a stranger by chance… they seemed to know each other far too well.
“Did someone actually…”
Did someone just try to kill the Prince’s companion by throwing her off the roof?
Rip.
Rustle, rustle.
The sound of tearing fabric cut through the murmurs.
Paying no mind to the attention, Calian, who had propped Eila against the building wall, tore off a piece of his black robe and unraveled the white bandages wrapped around his own hand. Then, channeling his mana, he repeatedly cast Clean magic on the already spotless pieces of fabric.
Remembering he had done something similar before, his lips curved into a slight smile.
“It’s an expensive outfit, yet I keep tearing it. Besides, these bandages weren’t even meant to be recycled.”
“You agreed when I asked you to kill someone, yet you have no intention of killing him, only saving me.”
“I never said I wouldn’t kill him. I just can’t do it right now. There are too many eyes watching.”
“Then shouldn’t you at least go after him? I can tend to my own wounds.”
“He hasn’t run away yet. It seems he’s watching from above.”
“How bold.”
“He probably knows I can’t kill him here. Or maybe he wants to greet me.”
Calian replied quietly, looking at Eila. He held the balled-up piece of robe tightly in his hand.
“Brace yourself. You’re bleeding a lot.”
“I know.”
No sooner had she answered than the bundle of black cloth was roughly pressed into the wound on her flank.
As the numbing pain flared back to life, Eila grit her teeth, resisting the urge to kick the Prince who knelt before her. She endured the agony as he used the makeshift plug to staunch the bleeding.
Having stemmed the gushing blood, Calian glanced at Eila's face. But unable to look for long, he turned his gaze back to the wound. A low, heavy voice escaped his lips.
“You’re as stubborn as ever.”
“You told me… to brace myself.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually endure it so well. You certainly won’t die. You’re too stubborn.”
“Compared to a Prince who stuffs scraps of cloth into someone’s wound…”
“Don’t close your eyes, Eila.”
Eila shut her mouth at the sudden interruption. Without another word, Calian wrapped the bandages around her waist several times, tied a knot, and looked up at her.
“If you fall, if something like this ever happens again… don’t close your eyes. Think of grabbing onto anything. Even if it means grabbing the collar of the bastard who threw you.”
“Do you think I closed them because I wanted to? I did it without realizing because I was scared.”
“Don’t die.”
Eila stared at Calian for a moment, her lips trembling slightly.
“…I must have died first. Before you, Your Highness.”
There was no answer from Calian.
“I won’t close them next time,” Eila answered instead.
Calian nodded. Then, he stood up.
Clip-clop.
Raven walked out from among the crowd, who had been watching Calian, unable to either leave or approach. After patting the admirable horse who had brought him here just in time, Calian spoke.
“I told him not to come, but the Young Duchess will probably be here soon. Whether my brother sends him or he comes on his own. Just wait here until then.”
“Are you going to receive his greetings?”
“No.”
Calian shook his head.
Looking down at Eila's hair, which fell long and loose now that her hairpin was broken, he spoke.
“I have to collect the price for what he broke. It’s mine.”
Eila let out a soft chuckle and nodded.
Calian turned his gaze. Only then did he notice his own arm, scraped from rolling on the ground while shielding Eila. He stared at it for a moment. The torn shirt sleeve bothered him more than the long scratch, which had already stopped bleeding.
Frowning slightly, as if he had no choice, Calian moved his hand.
Pop.
He unfastened the cuffs and buttons and began rolling up his sleeves.
Pat, pat.
He smoothed out the creases. Watching him, Eila spoke in a calm voice.
“If you’re going to collect it anyway, make sure he pays dearly. I really liked that hairpin.”
“It might take a while to collect enough to match how much you liked it.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I suppose not.”
Tap, tap, tap.
With a faint smile, Calian tapped the ground a few times with the tip of his black boot.
“I’ll be back.”
In an instant, he kicked off the ground with force.
Whoosh!
Leaving the ground, his feet stepped off Raven's saddle, launching him high into the air. He leaped again, lightly brushing against the pole of a broken awning. Touching the corner of a window frame, he leaped once more, stepping on a small hook meant for a clothesline.
Like the shadow of a nimble cat, leaving a black afterimage behind, he flung himself onto the rooftop.
Thump.
With just a few steps, Calian landed silently on the roof of the six-story building and looked ahead.
“You’ve arrived. The wait was so long, I almost left.”
A handsome face that was the spitting image of Gray, dark brown hair, and vivid green eyes. The young man, who had patiently waited for Calian to ascend, greeted him warmly.
Ah, grass-colored again.
I’m so sick of this.
Having formed his first impression of his new acquaintance, a gentle smile formed on Calian’s lips.
“How fortunate. I would have been quite disappointed if you had left.”
“Indeed. I thought you might be, so I stayed.”
The young man, offering a pure smile as he spoke, clasped his hands. Then, with an extremely polite demeanor, he bowed deeply.
“Greetings to the 3rd Prince. I am the son of Marquis Brissen, Baron Rashid Brissen. It is truly an honor to meet you.”
“A pleasure.”
Accepting the greeting, Calian continued.
“I am Calian.”
The young man, Rashid, looked as if he had heard an intriguing response. Observing his expression for a moment, Calian spoke in a gentle, soft voice.
“It might be a bit too early in our acquaintance to ask such a question, but since I cannot tolerate curiosity, would you mind if I asked just one thing?”
“Of course. Ask as many questions as you like, Prince.”
Calian nodded.
Beneath his rolled-up black sleeves, a pale arm was raised.
The white hand at the end of his slender wrist moved, extending a long finger. It pointed toward the small hairpin held in Rashid's hand.
“Someone touched… what is mine. Do you happen to know who?”
Rashid raised his head, a broad smile spreading across his face.
A very similar smile appeared on Calian’s face as well.