If You Hate It, What Are You Going to Do?

Rood lay alone on his bed, replaying the day's training in his mind. Moneck's swordsmanship still contained countless elements that Rood simply couldn't understand. To ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him, that vagueness felt both frustrating and terrifying. After all, to prevent the visions he'd seen in those reports from becoming reality, he needed to become far stronger than he was now. Yet at the same time, it was undeniably exciting. Standing before a towering wall that still lay far beyond the level where he could defeat most ordinary soldiers—it made his heart race, whether that wall appeared as despair or as a goal worth striving for.

Rood had a rough grasp of his current position. 'Just below pseudo-knight. Roughly first-class soldier level.' A pseudo-knight was, in essence, the strongest rank one could achieve without ever manifesting aura. They possessed encyclopedic knowledge of swordsmanship and instincts that rivaled anyone else's. Some were so exceptional that they could wield a blade better than actual aura-using knights. True prodigies.

'I wonder what Isabelle would say to me right now.'

Rood pondered for a moment. She would probably tell him not to be too impatient. That he would definitely reach the level he desired. That rushing would only cause him to miss important details, so he should take his time and reflect carefully. Imagining her voice and tone as he recalled the words she might say somehow eased the tension in his chest.

'Wait… why am I even imagining this?'

Rood closed his eyes. Honestly, he still couldn't easily define his feelings toward Isabelle. When he examined them, only two emotions came to mind. First, respect—the desire to serve her as his lord. Second, curiosity toward a once-in-a-lifetime genius. However, he didn't believe he was in love with her. That one-sided memory of their lips meeting was, when viewed coldly, nothing more than a hallucination. It was so absurd it could be dismissed as an impossibility. They might be close, but Isabelle was a noble, while he was a commoner and an orphan. The difference in status alone was an insurmountable wall. It would be wiser to give up early.

'Besides, she's not even my type. Her personality is quite likable, though.'

Personality. That single factor was what kept snagging his thoughts. During the war, Rood had often attracted the interest of various women. Barmaids, fellow soldiers, village girls—they had blushed and approached him more than once. But Rood's only goal had been to grow stronger, and the women who spoke with him a few times usually fled in fear of his blunt demeanor or stormed off in anger. That was also why ridiculous rumors had spread that he was either impotent or preferred men.

"Damn it. I'm well past marriageable age, but I've never had a woman. Maybe that's why my head's gone soft."

It wasn't that Rood had no interest in the opposite sex at all. He simply hadn't met anyone who truly caught his eye, so he didn't know how to properly interpret his current emotions. Isabelle was the first woman in his life who had ever done so.

Ding— Ding—

Rood had lost all sense of time during the war, and he wasn't particularly devout, so he accepted the sound with indifference. Even within the Voenac mansion where he stayed, some servants and maids would pause to offer a quick prayer while others continued working as usual. Isabelle often visited his room well after the evening bell had rung, paying the hour no mind.

'She stays up late so often that the meaning of the bell has probably faded for her too.'

Rood guessed that Isabelle's overwhelming workload forced her to review documents late into the night on a regular basis.

Knock. Knock.

Two light yet deliberate and disciplined knocks. Rood rose reflexively and answered.

"You may enter."

To Rood, the sound of her knocking from just outside the door held far more meaning than the distant, heavy, sometimes solemn tolling of the bell.

The door opened, and he immediately noticed that Isabelle's demeanor was different from usual. Instead of the bright smile she usually wore even during casual conversation, she looked serious and composed—like she had when analyzing his swordsmanship.

"Rood, I have a favor to ask of you. Would that be all right?"

"What is it?"

"A request has come in after quite some time. It's a murder case that occurred in Voenac territory."

Murder. In the back alleys where Rood had grown up, such things weren't unheard of—news came at least once a month. So he found it strange.

"You handle things like this too?"

It seemed odd for Isabelle, who acted as the lord's proxy, to personally take on matters that should be handled by the village sheriff or the city guards and their captains.

"I told them to bring me any case they couldn't solve or that seemed bizarre. After all, I am something of a problem-solver, am I not?"

'Ah, so that's where the "problem-solver" title came from.'

Rood asked, "What kind of murder case would make them ask for your help directly?"

"The request itself doesn't mention murder. It seems they haven't realized it yet."

Rood slowly read the letter Isabelle handed him.

Rood looked up at Isabelle.

"There's no mention of solving a murder case in here, is there?"

Isabelle nodded. "But it is clearly a murder. Didn't they say they drove out all the wolves?"

"Couldn't they have simply missed one?"

"Boeub Village is located in the granary region. It is not adjacent to any forests or mountains."

Isabelle's eyes sparkled.

"No such incidents have occurred in the surrounding villages. There is no reason for wolves to ignore every other village and only target Boeub."

She pointed at the words 'exclusively in Boeub Village' with her finger.

"Whether someone is raising wolves or using fake wolf teeth, it appears the culprit is someone inside Boeub Village."

Isabelle paced in a circle with her arms crossed, gently stroking her pale, soft chin. She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completed three full laps.

"In the end, we will need to investigate the scene in person. However, there is also the possibility that this is a trap orchestrated by those who commissioned the assassination."

Rood said, "Then wouldn't it be better to send someone else to investigate?"

After hearing Isabelle mention the possibility of another assassination attempt, Rood no longer wanted to send anyone to look into this request. Protecting her by staying at her side was far more important.

Isabelle shook her head. "It would be too dangerous for anyone else. Two of the village's own deputies have already fallen."

"I don't want to go either. I came here with the mission to protect you. If I leave my post and something like that happens again…"

At Rood's words, Isabelle stopped pacing and stared at him intently.

"W-why are you looking at me like that?"

Isabelle narrowed her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly as she spoke.

"Are you worried about me right now?"

"Isn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it natural to be worried?"

Rood realized her face was drawing closer and hurriedly turned his head to the side.

Plop!

Isabelle sat down on the edge of the bed without the slightest caution, leaning lightly against Rood's side as she continued.

"You don't need to worry so much. Moneck has just returned, and Pete protected me during the previous assassination attempt. Besides, aren't you still technically a guest?"

"I-isn't it a problem to make a guest do something like this?"

"That is true, but you're the only one I can ask. So I complained a little. Can't you do this one thing for me?"

"I'm sorry, but—"

Rood tried to refuse, but he couldn't say anything more. Isabelle grabbed his forearm with both hands and pulled him toward her.

"Even like this? Even though it's my one and only request?"

"L-let go!"

"If you hate it, what are you going to do? What about this? Or this?"

Rood applied just enough strength to try to shake off the Isabelle clinging to his arm, but he couldn't completely throw her off. If he moved any harder, he might hurt her.

"I told you to let go!"

"If you accept my request, I'll consider it!"

"Haa… I clearly warned you."

Now irritated himself, Rood stood up, grabbed both of Isabelle's hands that were latched onto his arm, and lifted them overhead.

"Kyaa?"

He pushed Isabelle down onto the bed in a position like she was raising her arms in victory and looked directly into her eyes. Rood's breathing had grown slightly ragged. Isabelle's face flushed bright red like a tomato. Her eyes trembled violently from side to side.

"I-I think I acted too spoiled. I'll stop now, so won't you forgive me?"

Rood leaned down, bringing his lips close to her right ear, and whispered in a low voice.

"If you hate it… what are you going to do?"