Between Doubt and Conviction
“Alright, everyone, that's far enough.”
Just before the two men's rough hands could commit their crime against the blue-eyed girl, someone stepped into the alley where they were.
It was a navy-haired boy who looked about the same age as the girl—Lerven.
“Far enough? And who the hell are you?”
“……?”
All eyes turned to Lerven, who had suddenly appeared in the back alley.
Even the girl's blue eyes held a hint of bewilderment.
“Who am I...? You mean that?”
Thud.
Under everyone's gaze, he slowly advanced toward the two men and the girl.
His steps showed no hesitation, soon positioning him squarely between the man and the girl.
“All connections in this world are fleeting—do we really need to know each other's names?”
“What the hell are you babbling about? Who are you?”
“I'm just a traveler, no different from the passing wind. Trying to pin down my identity is like trying to catch the scattering breeze.”
Lerven wedged himself between the man and the girl, spouting nonsense no boy her age would understand, then gently took her hand.
With leisurely steps that barely seemed to move, he began heading toward the main street.
The motions were so natural that the two men nearly let him and the girl slip away right then.
“Freeze. What do you think you're doing? Get back here now!”
“...Tch, we were so close.”
“......”
The man closest to Lerven grabbed his shoulder, and Lerven let out a regretful hiss.
Glancing sideways at the girl, he caught her expression—nearly expressionless, but giving off a vibe of you were really going to escape like that?
That look and gaze embarrassed him greatly, so Lerven cleared his throat softly.
“...I was trying to save you, so cut me some slack with that face.”
“...Results are what matter.”
Thanks to his cheekiness, perhaps, Lerven finally heard the girl's voice for the first time.
Quiet and composed, it emphasized the importance of outcomes.
She wasn't wrong—results mattered. No matter how good the intent, failure meant nothing. Especially in this world's era, with no Good Samaritan laws to protect rescuers.
“So if it leads to a good result, the process doesn't matter, right?”
“Is... that what that means?”
“No time to argue—get behind me. Run if things go south.”
“Why aren't you running now...?”
The girl looked up at him, puzzled by his actions.
It was a fair question. Most people would flee in this situation, not try something else.
But Lerven was different. He turned slightly toward her and smiled.
“I've got something to test. And right in front of me are perfect guinea pigs I won't feel bad about using—when's a better time than now?”
Spouting more incomprehensible nonsense, he left both the men and the girl dumbfounded.
Where had this idiot come from? The man gripping Lerven's shoulder yanked harder in irritation.
“...What a piece of shit. Showing off in front of a girl?”
“They say the eye sees what it wants—figures a creep blinded by lust would think that.”
“You little shit...”
“Oof, hit a nerve, huh?”
Was this what they meant by a mouth that invited disaster?
Every word from Lerven made veins bulge on the man's temple, visible in real time.
Stoking that anger proved his downfall—Lerven felt a chill run down his spine.
Shing.
“I can shut that trap for good.”
A sharp dagger emerged from the man's pocket, pressed to Lerven's nape, slowly scraping his skin.
The eerie sensation of the blade made warm blood trickle from the spot.
“...You're playing rough.”
No matter what, he couldn't stay composed forever against immediate threat—Lerven's face paled slightly.
The man noticed and sneered mockingly.
“Aw, the knight of justice fears the blade? You're looking positively ghostly.”
“Keh heh, easy there. You'll scare the kid.”
Screech.
The dagger twitched with their laughter, digging deeper into Lerven's nape.
One wrong move, and it could sever a vital spot, endangering his life.
No one there expected heroics from him.
“...Especially not the girl, who trusted no one anymore.”
“...Draw.”
But the moment radiant light burst from Lerven's hand, their positions reversed completely.
*
The dagger's sharp edge digs into my neck.
Blood flows steadily, icy chill circling my body.
Yet it doesn't plunge deeper, doesn't truly threaten my life.
As if savoring my suffering, betting on when I'll bolt.
Hiss.
In the man's eyes holding the blade, I see my terrified, ragged breaths reflected.
The knife at my throat was a threat I'd never known in my 21st-century life, and the two sneering men were plenty frightening.
Yet my feet stayed planted before them.
How could I flee facing terror like this?
The answer lay in another fear: vague anxiety that running now would breed regret.
That alone kept me rooted here.
“...Draw.”
Control the barbarians with barbarians, they say.
Suppressing one fear with another, I whispered the word I'd chanted endlessly that morning.
Flash!
A brilliant azure glow erupted from my right hand.
The light coalesced in my palm, soon taking physical form.
Whoosh—the flash faded, leaving a single card in my grasp.
VIII – Strength
Position: Upright
Meaning: Strength, Courage
The mystical power imbued in the card grants the strength to overcome hardships and bolsters courage.
The info window explained the card in my vision's corner. I scanned it hurriedly and activated the power within.
I'd never used it at the dorm due to limits, but the method was ingrained in my instincts.
Flash!
As I willed it, the card glowed brightly, scattering into light particles.
They seeped from my hand into my entire body, bringing a foreign energy surging through me.
“W-What the hell was that?!”
The man who'd witnessed it shouted in panic, fearing some trick.
But realizing his knife still pressed my throat, he shoved it deeper.
“I don't know what you did, but stay still unless you want your head gone.”
The fear I'd felt moments ago now twisted his face.
Terror, as one should show against the unknown.
But it wasn't just him—I faced the unknown too, using this power for the first time.
The info window helped guess its nature, at least.
What if I'm wrong?
Doubt followed my guess, born of anxiety over 'what ifs' and looming death.
Doubt was negative, but not always bad action—it was one path to solid conviction.
Doubt dismantles false illusions, bolsters frail truths with evidence into full certainty.
Sweeping away endless doubt, I turned guess to conviction.
With that certainty, I moved.
“Don't move! Didn't you hear me? What are you—”
“What else?”
And.
Crash!
“Justice served.”
My unyielding conviction struck true.
*
Just a commonplace dagger picked up off the street.
Poorly maintained, chipped teeth, rusty patches everywhere.
Hand it blade-first to an ordinary-looking boy and order him to shatter it barehanded.
Could he?
Obviously not.
No matter how cheap the forge, you can't smash forged iron with fists alone.
Crash!
Yet in a corner of the empire's capital, common sense shattered before their eyes.
“......Huh?”
“......!”
The dagger's shards rained harmlessly to the ground.
At the epicenter: a boy's hand.
Utterly ordinary.
Lerven, the sharp-featured boy who seemed unremarkable at best.
“H-How...?”
The man before him gawked between the hilt-only dagger and Lerven.
Incomprehensible. The punk cornered by a mere knife had gripped the blade and pulverized it.
“Aw, you look shocked.”
Lerven's smug voice rang out.
Turning, they saw him brush off fragments, smirking wickedly.
“Blade shatters right in front of you, no clue why—happens, right?”
“Shut your nonsense—”
“Ah ah, it's fine. Don't get it? No worries—I don't either.”
Interrupting, Lerven grinned wider, like a brat spotting prime prey.
“Besides... you won't have time to care soon. Better not bother understanding.”
A power neither wielder nor witness comprehended.
No need for deep analysis on first use.
Focus on one goal now.
And that was—
Whoosh.
Simply swinging a fist at the man before him.
Gently clenched to avoid excess force.
Fast enough the panicked man couldn't dodge.
Swish.
Lerven's punch cut the air softly—clumsy, like someone who'd never thrown one.
Yet it connected solidly with the man's gut.
Thwack—
“Gahk...!”
Like kicking a water balloon, the man's body launched backward.
Crash!
The narrow alley sent the dagger-wielder tumbling with his buddy, rolling until slamming into the wall.
“......Run while we can...!”
“Y-Yes...?”
Lerven stared blankly at his punch's result, then seized the chance, grabbing the blue-eyed girl's arm.
To avoid harming her with his newfound strength, he scooped her up entirely—in the classic princess carry.
“......W-What is this...?”
“Can't tell? We're escaping.”
“Not that—why this position...?”
“Does it matter? As long as we get away fast.”
The girl was flustered by his sudden move.
A total stranger hugging her while fleeing—who wouldn't panic?
But Lerven bolted shamelessly, ignoring stares once they hit the market street.
Was it kindness, or some ploy to humiliate her? She couldn't tell.
“Hm... no pursuit, and we're far enough... yeah, escape successful.”
How long since fleeing her assailants?
Now in the central plaza, away from the market, Lerven checked around before setting her down.
She straightened her posture immediately, staring at him intently.
“...Something on my face?”
She wanted to snap shamelessness, but held back and said what she meant.
“Thank you. Your help got me out of danger.”
She curtsied gracefully, skirt hems lifted, elegant and aloof.
Her poised thanks resembled a perfectly choreographed dance—unbelievable from the girl who'd scowled moments ago.
“No big deal. Anyone there would've done the same.”
“Yet you helped me. You deserve the thanks.”
Smile.
Like a dancer's finale, she flashed a bright smile.
Her beauty and picture-perfect grin nearly made Lerven's lips twitch upward.
But spotting something in her expression, he composed himself quickly.
“If you insist... well, business done, so I'll—”
“Can't let you go. I, Ria Talimor of House Talimor, can't overlook a debt like this. Please, your name?”
His exit attempt halted as she grabbed his arm.
Yanking free risked hurting her, so Lerven froze in place.
“Sigh... could you let go...?”
“Not until you tell me your name.”
“...Lerven. Just Lerven—no family name.”
She showed no sign of releasing, forcing him to spill it.
“Lord Lerven... yes, I'll remember. This debt will be repaid.”
“No need, really... anyway, name given—gotta go!”
The instant her grip loosened, Lerven yanked his arm free and bolted, missing the shift in her gaze behind him.
**
“Lerven... Lerven, was it...”
Clack.
Clack—the crisp heels echoed.
Like pattering rain, the footsteps rippled through Elumhult's alleys.
“...Never heard the name before.”
The black-haired, blue-eyed girl—Ria Talimor—muttered alone in the alley corner.
Her mind brimmed with the boy she'd just met.
Had she fallen at first sight? A closer look at her eyes—
“Ha, what luck.”
“Still in the alley, huh? Miss?”
—was interrupted as two familiar men sauntered up.
The same ones Lerven had sent flying.
Spotting Ria alone, they approached with gleaming eyes.
“Some idiot kid ruined our fun earlier... but he's gone, and you're alone now, right?”
Their eyes burned with unhesitant malice and greed.
“......”
Whoosh.
Ria turned her back dismissively, as if they were beneath notice.
“Hey, miss. Ignoring us changes nothing—we're not vanishing.”
To them, it looked like denial of reality.
One grinned nastily, reaching to teach her otherwise.
That instant.
“Milione.”
Her voice echoed softly through the alley.
Ripple.
Shadows across the alley flickered like candle flames; the air quivered faintly.
Even the ignorant could sense the ominous portent.
“What are you—stop ri—”
The man Lerven had punched recalled that moment, lunging to stop her.
But.
Slash—
His last act.
Just before his hand reached, her shadow surged, sweeping over both men.
And that was it.
The two men—or what had been two men—met their end in the chill alley.
“No need to dig for backers, miss?”
Clank.
A new voice came from the empty alley, with metallic clicks.
“Their crude, childish methods scream Second Brother's doing. No need to investigate.”
Ria replied without turning, voice familiar.
“More importantly, Milione—I have a request.”
“Yes, miss. Your orders?”
“Yes. Investigate the navy-haired boy named Lerven. Everything, from start to finish.”
Clack.
She issued the command and headed out.
“Brother's schemes grow daily—I should build my own allies.”
Unhiding her possessiveness toward Lerven.
Rustle.
A change overtook her.
Like hair dyed in sunlight, her black locks shifted to silver, root to tip.
“...Yes, Lady Amelia.”
The shadow-dweller watching her back affirmed.
“For the imperial family and you, my best.”