Chapter 5
A stunned silence blanketed the alley. A few assassins dropped their weapons.
"......Mir?"
The man, who had been desperately clutching his wound with his hand, mumbled in disbelief.
I said nothing and just rolled my stiff neck.
Sword Masters were those who wielded a single sword and transcended human limits. Mana, the flow that moved the great forces of nature, respected humans who surpassed those limits. The pure aura produced by a Sword Master was their unique answer, discovered by breaking through boundaries. Since each person's answer was different, the color of their aura varied from individual to individual—and the murkier it was, the rougher the path they'd taken.
My own answer, a ferocious black aura, surged through the assassins.
"Aaagh!"
It took less than a few minutes to clean up the situation. I'd expected as much, but it was disappointingly one-sided.
"Why is Mir here......!"
The hand of the lone remaining third-rate thug assassin trembled violently. It was no wonder he was shocked—in the vast Solatine Empire, there were only three officially recognized Sword Masters.
"But I'm a Sword Expert too, right in front of me! I'll take you on!"
A faint blue aura, so thin it was hard to notice unless you looked closely, coated the assassin's sword as he struck all sorts of poses.
"Haaaaah!"
His sword rushed at me with excessive spirit. I blocked it effortlessly.
"Urk, you blocked my sword......! Not bad, you bastard!"
Ah, please......
My hand cramped so badly I nearly dropped my pipe. My face twisted beneath the mask.
I'd planned to humor him with a few exchanges out of courtesy, but listening to his nonsense was torture.
Just end it. For the sake of my ears.
"Eek!"
My longsword and pipe clashed with a thunderous boom. Worried the noise would draw the neighbors, I minimized my aura output and sliced in sharply. Circling half a turn around the assassin—who was awkwardly holding his blade upright—I kicked hard at his ankle.
"Aak!"
As he crumpled to his knees, I stomped firmly on his back and struck the nape of his neck. With a gurgle, he lost consciousness.
Situation over.
Can't cause trouble in the village.
To prepare for any contingencies, I finely adjusted my aura into cords, binding the assassins tightly like a noose, then hurled them far into the woods beyond.
I threw them weakly enough that they won't die—they'll figure out how to survive on their own.
With that indifferent thought, I shoved the pipe into my pocket and dusted off my hands.
There were no people in this world who deserved to die, but there were those who could be handled a bit roughly—like assassins who made killing their trade.
"You...... who the hell are you?"
The man, who had been staring at me in a daze, finally spoke up.
Only then did I look him straight in the eye.
Soft-looking light brown curls. Attractively upturned eyes. An overall graceful impression, but with a rounder, more solid jawline. Full, red lips and deep ocean-blue eyes.
Damn.
Even I, tempered by seeing the world's most beautiful woman—Aria—doubted my eyes for a moment at his stunning looks.
Losing a beauty like you would be too great a loss for our empire, you know.
I clenched my jaw to suppress the superficial reply that nearly slipped out.
Wait, magic artifact?
I furrowed my brow briefly. Focusing my senses on him, I detected a faint trace of magic.
A concealment spell on his appearance, source in a ring?
Magic artifacts that hid one's looks were expensive even for cheap ones. And if it could mask magic so well that even a Sword Master only noticed it late, it had to be top-tier.
Guy's loaded, huh.
Tsking at the thought that this might get more troublesome than expected, I strode over to him and checked his wound anyway.
The gash on his abdomen was deep, but treatable—he'd live.
"Excuse the roughness."
I tore a strip from the hem of my long cloak, wadded it up, and stuffed it into his wound. The startled man groaned but grabbed my wrist.
"What are you doing? Tell me why you're helping me!"
Like a bristling cat.
Tsking softly, I gave a flippant reply.
"Didn't I tell you? Because you're a prince on a white horse."
I jammed the cloth deep into his wound. He shot me a sharp glare amid his groans, but I had no time to spare for his pain.
Figured a pampered guy like him wouldn't be used to pain.
His gritted teeth and familiar endurance puzzled me, but that wasn't important now. Silently, I packed the cloth all the way in. The bleeding finally stopped.
"Can you walk?"
He shook his head weakly. With a soft sigh, I supported him. He flinched slightly at my touch but didn't refuse the help.
"Why the hell did Mir save me? Did someone hire you?"
He kept pressing persistently even as I dragged him along. Rolling my eyes, I answered perfunctorily.
"No hire. I'm saving you to rob your clothes and valuables and hold you for ransom. Satisfied now?"
Dragging him along, I brushed aside the branches hanging over the path. He let out a hollow chuckle.
"And they'd believe that from your tone."
"What's wrong with my tone?"
"It's so half-assed."
"Sharp one, aren't you."
He chuckled hollowly again. His blue eyes fixed on me. Unlike his playful words, those eyes were cold and calculating.
"Tell me why you saved me."
"Didn't I say? Because you're a prince on a white horse."
"Hah, so I'm the damsel in distress then?"
"You get it."
"Ridiculous. All I've ever played is the white horse prince role."
"Try a new part this time—might suit you."
"Ha, haha!"
With my annoyed, perfunctory responses, he burst into loud laughter. Maybe the wound reopened mid-laugh; he sucked in a sharp breath and turned to me.
"You, won't even tell me your name?"
"You know it. Mir."
"Not that. Your real name."
His calm question made me frown slightly as I met his gaze. His blue eyes were serene, devoid of malice or ulterior motive.
He's already suspicious—if I don't say something, it'll get worse.
But I couldn't reveal my real name. Doing so would be as good as confessing Mir's true identity—the one I'd desperately hidden—with my own mouth.
Rolling my eyes briefly, I answered indifferently.
"......Shushu."
It was a nickname people called me, so it counted as a name.
Blinking, he looked at me with amused eyes.
"That's not your real name, is it?"
"What's yours then?"
Dodging the question lightly, I turned it back on him. He hesitated.
After agonizing for a while, avoiding my gaze, he replied.
"......Didi."
Pfft. Laughter burst out uncontrollably. He glared, and I smirked.
"That doesn't sound real."
"It is."
Heh. Didi and I laughed together. It was nothing much, but for that brief moment, we both let our guards down.
"Ugh."
Of course, the laughter was short-lived. Didi's wound had reopened from laughing, so we hurried on.
The hut, with only a single-person cot for a bed, was a bit barren for living quarters but perfect as a lab.
"You, a doctor?"
Didi's eyes widened as he surveyed the hut filled with herbs, lab equipment, and medical texts. His blue eyes sparkled prettily.
"Just studied some medicine."
I too gazed around the hut coolly, lost in old memories.
This hut was filled with my efforts to cure Aria's illness.
It was tough.
Since Aria fell ill around age eight, my routine had been work in the mornings and pulling all-nighters studying medicine at night. How many nights had I spent sleepless here, how many experiments had I run? Among all the knowledge I'd gained, none could cure Aria—how many times had despair crushed me?
This hut, steeped in traces of effort and despair, was a place of bittersweet memories for me.
But now I know the way.
It irked me a bit that the answer I'd sought so long came so anticlimactically, but I had no regrets about the time spent. I'd never regret time spent for Aria.
"Make yourself comfortable."
I sat Didi on the cot and began grinding herbs from the cooler in a mortar.
Having adjusted to the hut, he relaxed and watched me intently.
"You really won't tell me honestly why you saved me?"
Still on this?
A bit irritated, I turned and met his deep blue eyes head-on. Those eyes brimmed with suspicion and cold rationality, their intense hue matching their icy sharpness.
"I answered already. To use you as a hostage and get rich."
Focusing on the medicine, I replied carelessly. Didi's narrowed eyes flashed keenly.
"I'm not joking. I'm serious. You're not from the palace either—so why did you save me?"
The palace......?
A chill ran down my neck for a moment.
Do they send people from the palace when nobles are in danger?
I had no idea about noble customs. As unease stirred, Didi grew grave.
"If your aura weren't that distinct black and you were taller, I'd have thought you were Duke Crisis himself. His aura's red, close to black. At least he'd have reason as my subject to save me...... but Mir has none."
Crisis Duke.
My hand paused mid-grind at the familiar yet awkward name ringing in my ears. I resumed quickly, but Didi caught the hesitation and narrowed his eyes.
I pretended not to notice.
The empire's sole duke, Kaiser Calad Kennis Crisis.
Father of Kal Crisis—one of the male leads—and my own father. The empire's strongest certified swordsman, soon to lead in the impending war.
And he dies in that war.
Black hair like polished ebony whipping in the wind, blood-red eyes staring soullessly at the battlefield—the God of Slaughter, was it?
I vaguely recalled the novel's spiced-up description of the duke. In the story, he was a monster who slew his own father to claim the title.
Kaiser was depicted as utterly ruthless and cold-hearted, with the Crisis household said to reek of blood daily.
That's exactly why I didn't rush straight to the Chrysis Ducal Residence.
If he were normal, the moment I regained my past-life memories, I'd have scooped up Aria and run there, clutching his pant leg and begging mercy for blood ties.
The Crisis family surely had that miraculous elixir to cure Aria.
Fairy Essence from the Fairy Forest. Compressed essence of the forest's abundant energy into liquid form—a single drop granted complete renewal.
Aria was sick because, as a fairy, her energy was deficient. One drop would let her last ten years......
The diluted Fairy Forest tonic I gave her now had far less potency. Normally, she'd need regular visits to the forest to replenish, but the essence would cure the deficiency instantly.
But I haven't gone because......
A man who slew his own father didn't seem the type to care for blood ties. The Chrysis Ducal Residence was my strongest card—the double-edged sword to save for last, or perhaps never use at all.