Kidnapping the Hero Party's Second Companion (1)
The hero. In every form of media, heroes are almost always portrayed as masters of the sword. They annihilate demonkind with the power of a holy blade and cleave enormous boulders blocking their path in a single stroke. The hero burdened with saving the world is depicted as a prodigy. The one swinging her sword in front of me was no different.
“Hup! Hup!”
“...”
Whoosh. The hero let out those strange battle cries as she swung her wooden sword in an awkward stance, staggering as though she might lose her balance and topple over at any moment. From a distance, one might have assumed she possessed no talent whatsoever. The irony, however, was that every single one of those clumsy attacks was aimed precisely at my vital points.
With talent like this… she really is the hero.
Solar plexus. Liver. Heart. The hero kept striking at my weak points. Her mind might not have understood them, but her instincts certainly did. If I had to put it into words, it would be like installing state-of-the-art facilities inside a crumbling old building…
Her innate combat sense was undeniable. Compared to that, her exposed weaknesses were far too numerous, yet Runa strutted about with absolute confidence, completely unaware.
“Heh, what do you think? You can’t do anything, right?! Today I’ll finally esc—”
“Nonsense. There are far too many unnecessary movements.”
“Eh?”
Tap. The wooden sword she had been swinging with such vigor suddenly froze mid-air. It shot upward while her body rolled across the ground.
“Kyaa!”
“Don’t get cocky with such beginner-level skills. I could handle the likes of you without even picking up a sword.”
“Ugh… Why am I on the floor…? What did you just do…?”
“I deflected your sword upward and kicked the leg that had lost its balance. Your equilibrium is terrible.”
If this had been a real battle, she would already be dead.
That aside…
The most important talent of all. As a hero, hers was flawless. Even while attacking, her gaze had remained locked on my every movement—where I would shift, how she should strike next. Those calculations seemed to flow naturally through her body.
“Have you ever held a sword before?”
“…Only once. When the knight order scouted me.”
“The Sylvester Knights, then.”
The hero nodded as if I had guessed correctly. The Sylvester Knights. An order with more than a little connection to me.
I pulled Runa up from the ground.
“Sparring with me won’t be very useful right now. We should start with basic training—”
“What?! Why? Just one more time! I feel like I could win if we go one more round!”
“No. You’d need a thousand more rounds. It’s bothersome.”
“That’s not true! I think one time would settle it!”
Her pride truly pierced the heavens. Teaching the hero in her current state would be pointless; she would clearly ignore every piece of advice I gave. She would undoubtedly grow in the strangest possible direction.
I answered as though I had no choice.
“…One round. If you lose, you will listen to me quietly. You will follow the training obediently. Understood?”
“Yes! Understood!”
The hero dashed toward her dropped wooden sword. With that golden hair of hers, the way she retrieved it made her look exactly like a golden retriever. She faced me once more in that same sloppy stance.
…This was painful to watch.
“Shift your front foot one span forward and pull your hips back. Support your body with your legs.”
“Stop giving me orders! I’ll do it myself!”
Stubbornness. In most stories, heroes tend to be single-minded. They behave as though only their own judgment is correct. This is right! This is the just path!
Before she encountered the official hero party, that stubbornness had to be shattered.
“I’ll yield the first move. Come at me.”
“…You’ll regret this.”
“Just from the way you talk, one would think you were already a sword master…”
The hero seemed trapped inside her own little world. That confidence had probably been inflated when the Sylvester Knights scouted her and showered her with praise. You have real talent! Why don’t you join our order? At your level, you’d become commander in no time! Something like that. The word “talent” that turns people into frogs trapped in a well. Truly a cursed phrase.
I spoke to the hero who trusted only in her so-called talent.
“Come. I’ll show you exactly how capable you are.”
“H-here I come! Don’t regret this!”
Thud, thud. The hero charged like a racehorse wearing blinders. Even after receiving my earlier advice, her posture remained a mess. With that terrible form, she raised the sword high overhead.
A downward strike. The blade traced a smooth arc toward the ground. It was a natural, flowing attack that looked like a single unbroken line.
Only—
“A downward strike born from an unstable stance has far too much telegraphing.”
“Eh?”
The target was excellent, but the execution was terrible. I twisted my shoulder just enough for the wooden sword to pass by, missing me by the thickness of a single sheet of paper. Her blue eyes widened in shock. But it was already too late. I had already stepped into her range.
“Swordsmanship is important. But so is staying alive.”
Behind my closing body, the wooden sword was ready. At my signal, it would immediately rush toward her. The hero must have realized it, because the usual liveliness in her eyes began to drain away.
I’m going to die.
More instinctive than anyone, the hero would have felt it. Survival instinct stands above all else. Her blue eyes darkened as she sensed the crisis, yet there was nothing she could do. Because she was weak.
My attack flew toward her.
Tap.
“Ow!”
A dull sound. The hero’s deflated voice leaked out.
“Wh-what? I’m… still alive…?”
“It was a forehead flick. There’s no way I would kill you.”
“B-but you really looked like you were going to…”
“Not at all. You simply imagined it.”
At those words, the hero’s legs gave out and she collapsed where she stood. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. For her sake, I offered one piece of helpful advice.
“I can’t even find a trace of talent. At this rate it’ll take another thirty years.”
“...”
“A swordsman this talentless. It’s the first time I’ve seen one in my life.”
“Hic.”
At my words, the tears that had been pooling in the hero’s blue eyes finally burst forth like a waterfall. Now that she had properly confronted her own level, she would be able to sharpen her swordsmanship with true focus.
Pain is necessary for growth.
I hoped the day she finally defeated me would come quickly.
“Uwaaaaack…!!!”
Bang! Bang! Runa, lying on her bed, kicked the innocent blanket with all her might. The memory of lunch had resurfaced.
“Me! Without talent?! Uwaaaaack…!!”
Every time she shouted, she slammed her feet into the blanket even harder. Uncle Junwoo—that kidnapper—had said he was stepping out for a while, so no one was there to stop her rampage.
“No eye for talent! Kidnapping people! What good person?! He’s a total villain!! I was the idiot for misunderstanding him!”
Venting the frustration from lunch, Runa kept kicking the blanket. That day, after receiving an offer from the Sylvester Knight Commander, she had never once doubted her own talent. The wound cut that much deeper.
“I have no talent…? Just you wait…! I will definitely win! What do you mean stay put?! Go live in that filthy living room forever, you psychopath!”
I will have my revenge.
Runa decided to erase that dirty living room from her memory. For her, there was only forward.
Always keep the sword with you. It will help sharpen your senses.
Recalling Lee Junwoo’s voice, Runa took the wooden sword from the wall. Then, replaying the lunch spar in her mind, she began correcting her posture.
Hoo.
“Did that uncle do it like this…? No, it’s a little different… Is it because of our physical differences…? Then the stance that suits my body would be…”
Runa visualized the scene again. What posture suited her. Which stance would be most efficient for attacking the opponent. One by one, she analyzed and slowly refined her previously sloppy form.
“No, this might actually be better…”
Little by little. So slowly it seemed to move only a single centimeter every ten minutes. Like a caterpillar wriggling forward, she corrected her stance.
Evening. The capital, where vitality had faded and exhausted ghosts walked the streets. The kidnapper Lee Junwoo moved among them, strolling casually.
The hero is probably training alone right now.
She would search for her own shortcomings, slowly dissect what had gone wrong, and find the answer herself. That was the hero’s talent. All he had to do was present the problem. She would discover the solution on her own.
Leaving her alone had been Junwoo’s own small act of consideration.
“…But even when I come out, there’s nothing in particular to do.”
He should have just stayed on the sofa. A trace of regret flickered through him, but Junwoo simply continued walking the capital streets. He liked the night air, so it wasn’t bad.
“Haa…”
Inhaling the cold night breeze, Junwoo looked around the capital. There were adventurers just like him, happy families, and people who looked miserable. Some appeared content while others seemed crushed by life.
How do I look in other people’s eyes?
Lost in sentiment, Junwoo entertained the small thought. With his blunt expression and a man who didn’t even know why he continued living, people probably didn’t see him as happy. They likely saw him as unfortunate. The phrase “living because he can’t die” suited Junwoo perfectly.
Your soul is dead, so you can’t return to Korea. Live here, Junwoo.
If it’s the ‘wish’ that is granted after defeating the Demon King, you could return… But that belongs to the hero party.
Recalling Minerva’s words, Junwoo walked the streets endlessly until a tickling, melodic voice reached his ears.
“M-matches, sir~”
“...?”
“Buy a box of matches~”
The oddly out-of-place voice of a match-selling girl. Hearing it, curiosity rose in Junwoo’s mind.
What era are we in that someone is selling matches? Who would even buy them?
In a remote rural village it might make sense, but in the developed capital of Grancia there was zero demand for matches. Even commoners could easily light fires using cheap magic-stone lamps. Neither buyers nor sellers existed.
Then why is she selling matches in the middle of the night…?
The match girl’s voice had piqued his curiosity. He walked toward the sound. In the dark evening street where people passed by, a girl in shabby clothes stood selling matches.
“Ah, adventurer sir…! Would you like to buy some matches? They might come in handy on your adventures…!”
The match-selling girl smiled kindly. She wore a red hood, but pale pink hair peeked out from beneath it. Her basket was filled with countless matchboxes. From her appearance, she looked to be around the same age as the hero.
Junwoo asked out of curiosity.
“How much for one box?”
“One thousand peries. As a special favor for you, adventurer sir, I’ll give you two boxes!”
The match-selling girl seemed to possess a genuinely warm heart. Though the weather was cold, her smile was full of happiness. Despite her shabby clothes and the fact she was selling matches, she had not lost her joy.
And above that smile, a familiar window appeared.
Cold Evening Match Girl
A girl is selling matches on this cold evening. This child will become a companion to the future hero!
Junwoo, your choice is?
1. Buy the matches and kidnap the girl within four days.
2. Do not buy the matches.
Answer Sheet. He needed it no matter what. Junwoo immediately checked the answer sheet—the future that would unfold if he chose option two.
His vision went dark, then another scene unfolded before him. The surroundings were pitch black and stained with blood. He couldn’t tell where he was. A light clicked on, revealing a woman.
The match-selling girl…?
The innocent-looking young match girl from earlier was gone. In her place stood a mature, deranged woman whose screws had clearly come loose. She muttered to herself, then lifted her head. Blood-soaked red eyes stared straight at him.
What the hell are those eyes…?
Something was dangerous. The future version of himself must have felt the same, because he turned and began to run. Sticky blood clung to his shoes as he fled at full speed. But it wasn’t enough.
I finally found you.
The woman grabbed his severed head as it rolled across the ground. The last thing he saw was the match-selling girl cradling his decapitated head with a gentle, happy smile—as though she were standing in a flower garden rather than a blood-drenched alley.
The answer sheet closed.
“What the hell…”
It was the same as with the hero. That girl would eventually kill him somehow. To prevent it, he had to kidnap her.
Without hesitation, Junwoo selected option one—kidnapping the match-selling girl.