Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Sylvia (1)
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I was the kind of guy who used to just read novels in the past.
My tastes had broadened so much that I'd even dipped into women's romance genres.
Heck, I'd read stories with female leads building reverse harems or even male leads getting pregnant.
They say you get bored fast when you're overexposed to the dopamine you're used to.
After devouring martial arts novels nonstop, I'd somehow ended up trying one without realizing it.
Of course, the fresh shock of my brain getting scrubbed clean made me swear I'd never touch them again.
But out of the hundreds of thousands of novels I'd read, I had to land in a romance fantasy one.
If only it'd been a martial arts world—at least that would've made sense. Why romance fantasy of all things?
Memories I'd drowned in booze started bubbling back up vividly.
Right, no wonder the capital's name had felt familiar. That was why.
Thinking back, I'd forgotten it was a romance fantasy because I'd been drunk off my ass. Damn, so this is who I was.
'But what the hell is her deal?'
Even so, the current situation was utterly baffling.
Sure, Sylvia's personality was pretty bold and aggressive in the original story.
But as the romance genre flipped everything, she ended up softening completely, flirting with the prince, and coasting to the ending—that was my memory of it.
There was definitely no recollection of her turning into a delinquent buried in my booze-soaked mind.
"......Do you know her by any chance?"
"Hard to say if I 'know' her."
"Then could you maybe ask her to lower her weapon?"
I rubbed my temple for the first time in ages, wondering if the booze was making me hallucinate.
This was clearly a world with an original story, and changes from another world came from outsiders.
In other words, changes caused by me. But nothing came to mind right now.
'Should've drunk in moderation.'
Chugging fruit wine until it piled up must've been the fatal blow to my memory. I opened my mouth.
For now, I just wanted to defuse this awkward situation quickly.
"I don't really want to fight."
Pfft.
The delinquents snickered while glancing at Sylvia for approval.
'This is ridiculous.'
The thugs, who seemed like her underlings, bowed their heads low, propping her up like a boss.
Whether it was her rotten personality or what, Sylvia was boldly pointing her sword at me, a near-civilian.
Seeing the intent to fight, I clicked my tongue.
I could only lament how she'd ended up as such a delinquent thug.
I calmly took in Sylvia's gear.
A black sword perfectly sized for her small frame, with a sharp blade and leather gloves that gripped just right.
Functional clothes that allowed free movement. She was the picture of a flawless swordswoman.
Maybe she didn't like my gaze, because she spoke up.
"I gave my name. You gonna keep yours hidden?"
I was surprised to feel such weight in that voice of hers.
So I raised my eyebrows higher than I had in a while and answered.
"Guro."
"Guro's your name?"
"Guro. That's my name."
"Unique name. From the East?"
I opened my mouth briefly, debating whether to confirm it, but shrugged to dodge the question.
I didn't know what my body passed for. Stripped down, I looked Western; dressed, Eastern.
Annoyed by my vague shrug, Sylvia narrowed her eyes. At the same time, she assumed a stance.
Her front foot planted with restraint but solid weight. The aura of a charging swordswoman flowed out.
"What'll it be? I've recovered some stamina, at least."
"This isn't a fight I started. Can't you handle your own mess?"
"What do you...!"
Was she bitter about fighting the delinquents solo?
I furrowed my brow.
Honestly, I hadn't jumped in or egged it on.
I just wanted to dump this whole mess on the pretty purple-haired guy, head to Aster, and report what happened today.
I hated troublesome crap.
"Heh, seriously."
But Sylvia had already dropped low, raising her sword.
Her heterochromatic eyes gleamed with focus solely on me.
Flash!
She charged.
It had the heaviness of a brute rushing in, but damn, she was quick.
Her footwork for building thrust and using the sword's weight outdid the guy next to me.
'No idea how she ended up like this.'
I stepped forward once, mimicking her technique.
Our speeds matched as we closed in, distance vanishing fast.
"Eut?"
Crack!
I shot my hand out a half-beat faster, grabbing her wrist.
My reflexes dominated in that split-second timing game.
"...!!"
"Whoops."
I yanked her seized arm, and she swung her opposite elbow at my face.
This level of fight sense came from getting hit a ton; her natural reaction showed how much brawling she'd done.
Impressed, I blocked the elbow with my silver coin pouch.
It was the only thing handy.
But grappling up close after so long, I'd misjudged her strength.
Bam!
Clink, clink...
"Well, shit."
The pouch burst from the impact, spilling coins everywhere.
Wondering when I'd pick all this up, I shot her an irritated glare.
"Hup!"
While I glanced down, she shook free, spinning once.
Her kick flew at my face, but I snapped my head aside.
"Boss's kick missed?"
Frankly, that kick was subpar; I was disappointed.
The delinquents seemed shocked, but I made no effort to hide mine.
Grit.
She bit her lip and said,
"Here comes the real deal."
"You burst my pouch and now you're talking big?"
Regaining her arm's freedom, she swung her sword.
Basic swordsmanship with solid fundamentals from all angles—clearly trained by a top-notch master.
"Seriously..."
Like her body had loosened up, her basic storm sped up relentlessly.
The clinking silver on the ground and this bullshit hassle were wearing my patience thin.
"You don't know when to quit."
I planted a front kick in her gut.
It was fast but only to create distance—no real damage.
"D-Do that again and...!"
Hmm, the pretty boy seemed sharp on theory.
He knew kicking high against a sword meant risking your legs.
Good student, but I was more distracted by the glinting coins every time I stepped.
"It's about technique."
I grumbled back, my booze-fueled irritation unyielding.
Finally, I drew my sword and took a stance.
A chill passed; Sylvia leaped back, widening the gap.
"......Where are you from?"
"Back-alley tavern."
"Liar. Knight sent by the devil? Or tied to the Rose Knight?"
"Rose what? Black Rose?"
"If you don't know, fine."
"..."
She muttered to herself, then reset her stance like she meant to end it.
Wherever she'd rolled, she'd become a proper delinquent powerhouse.
'Rose Knight? Heard that somewhere.'
I rummaged my memory: that Black Rose executive had mentioned it. Rose Knight. No doubt.
But why was she hunting him?
Bored with thug life, trying to join Black Rose?
How far gone was she?
I gawked, but Sylvia didn't waver.
"Hoo..."
Good focus. Skill-wise, she was a notch above Black Rose riffraff.
"Deep breaths are my thing."
But my patience had hit rock bottom.
My head throbbed unbearably, and I was done with thug provocations.
"Watch your forehead."
I scooped up the spilled silvers.
The lion hunts the rabbit at full strength, but I was the opposite.
Step on a cheeky rabbit, and the rest tuck tail in fear.
Makes the next hunt easier—that was my thinking.
Not that I saw myself as a lion. Who cringily compares themselves to one?
Just my personality. I'd never been merciful.
Especially not to thugs.
From here on, I wanted these punks too terrified to even glance my way.
Word spreads, and thugs nationwide would steer clear.
'Let's see.'
They'd blocked my path for coin-grabbing fun.
How dare they.
Clink, clink.
Sword in one hand, I palmed coins for easy tossing, flexing my grip.
"What're you doing?"
"What can coins even do..."
And.
"Eut!?"
Ping!
I flung a silver at Sylvia.
It ricocheted off her sword like a bullet, sparking.
I'd aimed for her forehead, but her defense was better than expected.
"What... was that?"
"Watch again and you'll know."
The pretty boy with shining purple eyes asked; I tossed a casual reply.
Just as her eyes locked on me, mine now only on her.
Her forehead, precisely.
"Seven in my palm. Dozens on the ground. Block this."
"......Kgh."
Sword drawn, I hurled another at her.
Sparks flew from her blade; she staggered back a big step.
"Apologize to my silvers."
"F-Fuck, you're drunk! What're you even saying?!"
Ping! Clang! Kang!
"What the hell is that..."
"Boss is getting pushed back."
"Crazy bastard, using magic or something?"
Guys practicing daggers or throwing knives often train tossing coins.
Round edges, rough and smooth spots—fun for practicing release.
No lethality, cheap and easy to get—perfect for practice.
Yeah, perfect for practice, since it lacked killing power.
"Hup!"
She remembered coins' limits too, charging while guarding head and eyes.
She trusted her sword to cut me down.
Pathetic, really.
Too focused on technical basics.
"Check your blade's condition."
Ping-ping-ping!
I smashed the side I'd pre-weakened with coins, shattering her sword.
Solid swings, but no understanding of the weapon itself caused it.
"...!!"
Shock flashed across her face as it broke.
I was too close.
"This'll hurt."
I pondered how to make her snap out of it and drop the bullshit.
One answer fit.
People only wise up when...
"They eat dirt."
I yanked her arm, hoisted her over my hip with a judo flip, and slammed her down.
One-handed throw.
Thud!!
"H-Heuk... Cugh."
"Zero on breakfall."
Feeling the booze resurge and fruit wine sloshing from the sudden moves,
I grimaced and said so.
"No killer vibe, so I went easy."
The pretty boy who'd rushed over gaped at me in shock.
I had no hobby of manly stares, so I turned away indifferently.
"Hm?"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
What caught my eye was Sylvia.
She was pounding the ground in fury.
'What's her problem.'
I watched her tantrum-like thrashing for a while.
She let out short, pissed grunts, slamming her fists into the dirt.
Until blood stained the ground.
And until I spoke up, for a good long time.
"I took the job to clear them out, but no sign of that bastard here either."
Six years ago.
The day the Rose Knight slaughtered her parents.
Sylvia hid in the wardrobe and vowed.
That sword tips outranked dignity and law, and to dodge one crashing down, she needed skill.
From that day to now, she swore never to lose.
She learned the sword from a knight she knew, piled up real fights swinging at thugs.
Living that way, her hatred etched onto her face like a tattoo, visible without prying.
She had a weird power.
The knack for pulling people to her side. Beaten thugs inexplicably trailed her, calling her boss.
Their twisted show of respect, maybe.
Guys born hating nobles.
Perfect pawns.
She described that day's massacre to her swordmaster; he said it resembled noble swordplay.
Sylvia pegged him as noble from his speech and gait.
Like massive power covered it up, the Rose Knight's slaughter vanished—no info anywhere.
Felt like chasing ghosts. But fine.
She'd gather more intel somehow.
Even if it meant using her thug followers as disposable bait.
So she'd told them: pick fights with any armed nobles.
Get tangled if you dare.
I'll drag you into my twisted life and kill you.
Sylvia hardened her heart.
No defeats until then.
Not to thugs.
Not to any powerhouse.
Not even to knights.
But,
"Hey, mind helping pick up my silvers now?"
She never dreamed she'd lose to a puny-looking guy like this.
So she pounded the ground in utter rage and bitterness.