Chapter 14
The world felt like it was moving in slow motion during that long-awaited job moment.
I could see the dagger heading straight for my chest.
Can't I just dodge it if I snap out of it right now?
I'd thought something like that once... or twice.
They say people freeze when something unexpected hits them out of nowhere.
My brain was screaming at me to run, but the message never reached my body.
I'm gonna die! I'm dead meat, Grid!
I squeezed my eyes shut on reflex.
-BOOM!
A fierce gust of wind brushed past me, followed by a deafening roar.
This doesn't sound like getting stabbed by a knife.
Did I have some kind of reflex ability after all?
When I cautiously cracked my eyes open, what I saw was Frank embedded in the wall across from me.
Damn it, I trusted Iris...
"Saved by you again, Iris... ma'am?"
I turned to thank her.
The inn manager looked utterly bewildered, and Iris—far from her usual warrior pride—was wearing a look of pure confusion.
"Iris?"
"Huh? Oh! Yeah! That was close, Grid!"
"Thank you. I'll repay this debt someday."
"No, no, it was nothing! You must've been scared out of your wits. The manager and I will handle the rest, so head inside and rest up."
"Alright, I'll do that."
I wanted to stick around till the end, but my legs were shaking, and my body felt like jelly.
Any normal person would've lost it after nearly getting stabbed—what's weird is staying calm.
Back in my room, I killed all the lights, drew the curtains, and collapsed onto the bed.
Like how a car crash doesn't hurt at first but the pain hits later, the tension melted away, and the ignored terror and pressure came flooding back.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
A swordfight with eyes rolling back, right in front of the Sword Saint.
"Even a novel like this would get flak..."
Logically, I knew nothing else would happen, but I couldn't calm down.
No, obsessing over it made it all too vivid again.
That hate-filled face, the blade tip aimed at my chest.
Breathing was getting hard.
-Knock knock knock
A sudden knock at the door. Who could it be? The manager? Iris?
-Click
Before I could finish wondering, the door opened, and someone slipped into my room.
The silhouette stood by the door for a moment, then started heading my way.
I mustered what little strength I had left and croaked out,
"Wh... who... huff... huff..."
I forced my eyes open to see, but the room was pitch black—nothing visible.
Shouldn't have drawn the curtains.
The figure ignored my question.
-Swish
The sound of fabric rustling. The mattress dipped. They sat down next to me.
Now what? What the hell are they?
My anxiety was skyrocketing when a familiar voice cut through.
"It's okay."
"Si...l...bi?"
"Yeah."
The instant I realized who it was, all strength drained from my body again.
"Silbi... it's you..."
"Yeah."
Indescribable relief washed over me.
Just knowing it was someone familiar could ease my mind this much?
A cool hand gently brushed back my sweat-matted hair.
"Sleep."
I closed my eyes, letting her voice seep into my ears and her soft touch lull me.
Iris's office.
"You're saying you didn't blast Frank away?"
The inn manager addressed the pensive Iris.
"That's right. It wasn't me."
The manager couldn't wrap his head around it.
Who else in that room could've shown such power?
Iris spoke again, seeing the manager's furrowed brow.
"Exactly as I said. No hidden meaning. I didn't send that merchant flying."
It had been too soon for Iris to intervene.
She'd planned to block the dagger with her hand just before it hit Grid's chest, claiming self-defense.
But some unknown force had smashed his skull first.
After confirming Grid's safety, she'd scanned the entire inn with her senses but detected no traces of magic or holy power.
Who on earth was it? I haven't slacked on surveillance inside the inn since the count's incident.
"We'll have to investigate personally to find out. So, manager..."
"We'll say it was you and wrap things up."
They were in sync, as always. Iris prepared to head to security headquarters, bracing for what came next.
Maybe grab some tea with the security chief while I'm at it?
"Sluuuuuurp!"
This body, revived.
Slept like a rock.
Body felt refreshed, mind clear—the best sleep since crossing over.
"Event wrapped up, killed the lights in a frenzy... and crashed."
Yeah. Straight to bed, no time for a wash.
Sleep's the cure when you're out of sorts.
"8 a.m. Perfect for breakfast. Shower, then wake Silbi?"
It'd take ten minutes easy to rouse her, but people need morning fuel.
Food's what keeps us going.
Showered and headed to wake her.
-Knock knock "Rise and shine, breakfast time."
No response.
-Knock knock "Hey, academy starts next week. Time to build that early-riser habit."
A few more knocks, and she finally dragged herself out.
"No breakfast."
"You've never skipped a meal before—what's up today..."
I was about to launch into K-nag mode, but Silbi looked off.
Slumped shoulders, dark circles, dazed eyes, mouth covered by her sleeve as she yawned nonstop.
"What'd you do all night, no sleep?"
"Couldn't."
"Why."
"Dunno."
In a world without smartphones or computers, what keeps a girl up all night alone?
Wait, don't tell me.
"Something you don't want me knowing?"
"Yeah."
Bingo.
"Got it. Won't pry. Be back for dinner, so eat lunch."
"What for?"
"Errands outside."
Like telling you I'm heading to security HQ as a stabbing victim for testimony.
Just crash.
"Warm up, drink lots of water, rest up."
"?"
She looked baffled, like what the hell?
That hint should've been enough. I got it.
Can't explain "that time of the month" to her guy.
"Be back soon. Hitting the shopping district too—what you wanna eat?"
"Pudding."
Predictable. Craving sweets seals it.
"You got it."
Door slammed shut before I finished.
A bit rude, but for a rough day, that's tame.
Security headquarters.
Heard Frank got dragged to central holding.
Makes sense—attempted murder means HQ interrogation.
How would I know cop procedures? Never been.
Original story stuck to the academy, so no clue on local law enforcement.
Gave my name and mentioned the Owl's Nest incident; they led me to an interrogation room.
Waiting, in waddled a hulking figure bursting his uniform seams, eyeing me.
Interrogation room or torture chamber?
"You Grid?!"
"Yes, that's me."
"Too damn chipper for a near-stab victim!"
First meeting and he's nuts?
"Should I have gotten stabbed first?"
I snapped a bit, and he chuckled awkwardly before firing questions.
"Civilian nearly gutted, shows up at HQ next day fresh as a daisy! Weird, right!?"
Convincing... yeah!
Come to think of it, no hyperventilating or panic attack till I slept?
Why am I fine?
"See? Even you think it's off! Don't get mad—ain't framing ya!"
-Huwat hahaha!
The guy laughed heartily while spouting scary shit casually.
"I get you're here to interrogate, but don't they usually introduce themselves to civilians first?"
Doesn't look like he belongs in interrogation. Who is this?
"Huwat hahaha! Merchant through and through, sniffing info first! Love that work ethic!"
-Huwat hahaha!
What does he like about me? He laughed again.
That laugh rings a bell.
"Right, right. Name's Hercules, chief of Academy Security! No family name needed!"
Clicked. This musclehead—why's he here?
Seeing it in text threw me; hearing it jogged memory.
Full name: Hercules de Nemea.
Noble who doesn't discriminate against commoners, boisterous type.
Golden side character guaranteeing fun episodes on entry.
Shows up in investigations but never catches the perp.
Protagonist crew solves it—guaranteed laughs.
Him here means...
"Frank dead?"
"Huh? Why? He's cozy in lockup."
"No high-up like you for a mere merchant interrogation."
Something blew up, right?
Hercules dashed my hopes.
"Case is wrapped, actually. Iris came yesterday, spilled the beans!"
-Huwat hahaha!
Did he boil his laugh box or what?
"But even with attempted murder and Sword Saint witness, can't just wave off a guy smashed into a wall as self-defense. Right?"
Why'd you do that, Iris? Just block it pre-stab.
But griping at my savior? Nah, let it go.
Hercules pulled papers from his bag and slapped them on the desk.
"Read up!"
Bad vibes. Something annoying incoming.
Location: Vermin Viscount's Mansion
Victim: 1 fatality (cause: penetrating chest wound from sharp weapon)
Details: Weapon found inside mansion. No one has left the premises since incident.
Reason for Request: Local security unable to identify suspect; requires HQ investigators.
A murder elsewhere. Yesterday, coincidentally.
"Why show me this?"
Hercules grinned wide.
"Sword Saint said it! You're no ordinary merchant!"
Huh?
"Raved about you! Solve this quietly, and she'll clear your headache case!"
What?
"Pushed it as a plea deal, sorted somehow?"
"I'm just a merchant. No skills for murders."
"Really? Huwat hahaha! Guess we book the Sword Saint for aggravated assault then!"
He reached for the papers.
Iris turns criminal based on if I solve it?
No way.
Dunno why she threw me under the bus, but explanations later.
A real man repays two life debts.
Sighed, pulled the papers over, eyed Hercules.
Arms crossed, smirking—annoying.
"...I'll do it."
"Hot-blooded! Love it! Huwat hahaha!"
"Two conditions."
If I'm doing it, snag cash and skill levels.
"One: No meddling in my methods during investigation."
"Obvious!"
"Two: Budget upfront."
Hercules's eyes widened at "budget."
What's budget got to do with sleuthing?
"As you know, I deal in Eastern goods."
"Eastern stuff? Okay, but why?"
"Iris tapped me 'cause of my Eastern tools."
"Yeah?"
Here comes the Eastern sales pitch.
"I handle investigation tools from the East too... but they're pricey."
True story.
Level 3 skill items? Insanely expensive.
100 gold minimum, up to 10k.
Dunno the valuation, but my funds can't touch 'em.
Might not need level 3, but insurance.
"Hmm... Advance?"
"Advance."
Hercules pondered, drumming the desk with a thick finger, then bellowed,
"Deal! Do what you want! Noble involved, brass won't gripe over budget! Huwat hahaha!"
"Accepted."
"Fiery! Sword Saint's pick is gold! Huwat hahaha!"
Then he circled behind and slapped my back raw.
Face... control... ow, fuck!
After, we left HQ, hopped a carriage to Vermin Viscount's Mansion.
Crime scene preserved nicely, thank goodness.
Real medieval? No chance. Boots trampling evidence would've been lucky avoidance.
Romantasy ftw.
"No one touched the weapon post-report. All mansion staff alibis secured."
A local security guy briefed Hercules, tense—didn't expect the chief.
"Good work! Me and this guy'll scout the scene; round up the staff!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Let's go, Grid!"
-Smack
Back-slap again. Palm print incoming at home.
Crossed the police-tape-lookin' line into the kitchen: classic TV crime scene.
Body outline on the floor. Bloodstains around. One bloody kitchen knife.
The metallic stench hit, making it real.
Someone murdered here.
And I'm finding who.
