Chapter 3
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Rediscovery (2)
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"...Sion. What are you doing out here."
Just as I was glaring at the Notebook and pondering seriously, a voice suddenly called out.
I turned to look at him.
"You don't look so good."
It was Dent, the swordsmanship instructor at the orphanage. There was only one knight here, so he came to mind immediately. I'd followed him around quite a bit back in the day.
I gave a short reply.
"Thinking."
"About what?"
Thanks to Libra, the Notebook seemed to have grown a little, so I was wondering if there was any way to use it to bring down Libra.
I swallowed those words swirling in my mouth and spat out something else instead.
"How I can be helpful to Libra, stuff like that."
"...Admirable. But it's simple. Just win the match. The orphanage is an important tradition even in Libra. The main family's direct descendants will be watching too."
Direct descendants.
At that word, I turned to look at Dent. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem. The youngest one will be coming. Don't get your hopes up."
The youngest one.
Not the eldest son, not the second son, not the eldest daughter—the baby of the family, 'Zia'.
Zia Selcien Libra Rein.
The smallest person who would one day become the greatest.
I knew the history of how Zia started with a mere five million ren inheritance and seized control of the grand house of Libra.
"Really? That's surprising. The youngest coming all the way here."
To me, she was an enigma.
I revered her as much as I hated her.
Born as the illegitimate daughter of this cold, ruthless great house, she grew up with no standing and eventually killed, ousted, or exiled her siblings, countless elders, collateral branches, and relatives to monopolize Libra.
"Yeah. So do your best. Don't just... sit around like this."
Of course, it seemed Dent had come to prod me too.
They still didn't know I had dantian cancer.
Even I was in denial at this point. You know, the five stages of grief for terminal illness: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
"Sion. You grew up here, so you know. The orphanage is a legacy that can't be lost, the last shred of humanity Libra holds onto. So—"
"Yes. I'll do my best."
Speaking words I didn't mean had become second nature.
"Good. You're a loyal knight of Libra, aren't you, Sion? Just like your father, to the very end."
This fucking—
I barely suppressed the words that threatened to burst out like a cough.
I bit my lip hard and just bowed my head deeply. Dent patted my shoulder and left.
The decisive match for the orphanage's fate was scheduled for Friday, February 25th.
Maybe because of that, the nine 'warriors of the orphanage' were up at dawn, throwing themselves into various trainings, and went to bed the latest.
I was a bit different. I slept over eight hours a day, ate regularly, trained in my own way afterward, and sometimes sat on a bench reading a book while watching the nine.
——One! Two! One! Two!
This morning was the same. Six boys and three girls running laps on the field, chanting their slogans. The orphanage kids, teens, and teachers cheering from the stands.
I sat on a bench in the park, a little ways off from them.
——One! Two! One! Two!
I had no desire to join them.
I grew up in the orphanage too, but I didn't have many good memories. More precisely, I never really bonded with the place.
It was because of my severe illness from a young age, and because my parents had 'sort of' existed.
Kids' innocent hearts can sometimes turn into casual cruelty.
"He's got germs, don't hang with him—" "He smells weird—" "Scar on his head is gross—" "Alien or something—" "Eats his own poop maybe—" "Always puking, nasty—"
"Pfft."
Even now, closing my eyes on this bench of memories, those childish voices sometimes whisper in my ears, making me smile.
Of course, it wasn't the kids' fault.
It's just that all my orphanage memories are already tainted with 'future hatred'—smeared in filth.
The orphanage was what made me mistake my enemy for my benefactor in the first place. Good memories? At least for the current me, none exist.
...Anyway.
I was training too. Not heavy stuff like cardio, weights, swordplay, or spearmanship.
——Jab steps are the basics of boxing. Not just footwork, but a technique that lets you explosively dash in any direction you want.
I was watching YouTV on my phone.
A channel called [Sengun], by a boxer mercenary. Currently at 500k subscribers.
This [Sengun] was famous for matching active senior knights. In 5-6 years, he'd start his own sect.
I planned to learn boxing via YouTV. Boxing has especially high versatility as a martial art, so the earlier you learn, the better.
Before regression, I didn't even have time to earn money, let alone learn something like this—
"...Hey, you."
Suddenly, a low, dissatisfied voice called me.
"Hm?"
I turned that way.
Nothing there.
"Not there. Here."
"...What? Where?"
"Berry, down here."
A voice from a bit below.
Behind the tree, two small kids were half-hiding, glaring at me.
Ziiiing—like lasers shooting from their eyes.
"Who are you two?"
"I'm Berry. This is Bell."
They stepped out boldly introducing themselves, clasped hands behind backs, and bowed politely. Manners on point.
"Oh. Okay."
Both had blonde hair, chubby cheeks, big round eyes. Super cute. Even their glares.
"What do you want?"
Berry narrowed her big eyes.
"You said you not training alone."
"...Right away."
The little sister chimed in after her big sis.
Ah, so that's why they came complaining.
I chuckled and set my phone down.
"And?"
Point!—Berry jabbed her tiny finger at me like a judge.
"Oppa happy if our house go bye-bye?"
Our house.
Kid-like word choice.
"Dunno about our house, but I'm training. I've got some athletic talent, you know."
"Liar. Always just sitting..."
"Sitting."
Little sis echoed big sis.
I shrugged.
"Not lying. Not just killing time either."
Better to build proper conditioning than wear out the body with running.
With my pre-regression experience as a delivery guy and cleaner, plus summoning 'Perion' from the Notebook, victory wasn't impossible.
Berry pouted.
"Berry no understand. If not wanna lose, gotta train."
"...Lazy."
"I am training."
I held up my smartphone to them.
—When this jab step evolves, it becomes 'footwork'. The core of footwork is balance. Center of gravity, you could say. Mana must always circulate through the lower body, not just when running, but walking too.
"See? Watching a boxing tutorial right now. Learning how to fight."
Then, Berry and Bell's sharp, shrill faces melted in an instant.
Their eyes went wide like a deer's, sparkling.
"Waaah... smartphone..."
"Smart...phone..."
"Huh?"
Smartphones are novel to them?
I wiggled mine, and their four eyes followed.
Makes sense. I scraped by with secret part-time jobs to buy mine back then. Nearly cried hugging it when I first activated it.
I shook the smartphone.
"Wanna try it?"
"Whoa! Really?!"
"Yes!"
"Come up here."
I beckoned, and Berry and Bell scampered over on short legs, hopping onto the bench.
"You know Jelly? The cartoon."
"Yes! Every Monday at 3!"
"Yes!"
"I'll show you."
I searched YouTV for Jelly. Full episodes popped up.
[Jelly's Winter Break]
"Watch."
"Thank you!"
"Thanks!"
Grievances forgotten, they pressed heads together, staring at the screen.
"Waaah... Jelly sledding."
"Fun..."
I slowly stood. Time to practice that boxing move I'd just seen.
"Jab step."
Just like [Sengun] explained on YouTV. Tat-a-tat—even slow, I tried accurately, but my body moved surprisingly nimbly. Just like Sengun's in the video.
"...?"
Something... something felt off.
Even to me, my steps flowed unnaturally smoothly.
"Ahh! Jelly fell! Go Jelly..."
"No fall!"
Of course, I wasn't totally talentless. Cancer patient or not, I picked up basic athletics quick, made a name as cleaner and delivery guy.
"...What is this."
But now, it felt different.
I could feel it, controlling this body.
Every step, every arm extension, [Sengun]'s movements replayed perfectly in my head, and I executed them without a single error.
After just one video, like a boxing pro who'd devoted years.
Crack—!
I slammed a straight into the tree. Bark shattered. A clear fist mark on the surface.
"..."
I was speechless for a moment.
But the reason for this unbelievably 'amplified' athleticism was surprisingly easy to guess.
"The Notebook again?"
Spectra are generally divided into Active and Passive. Just like active skills and passive skills in RPGs.
In that sense, this could be the Notebook's 'passive' effect.
Like saving files to the Notebook, actions or martial arts seen with the naked eye get naturally memorized.
I'd heard of a similar talent somewhere.
'Look-See-Do', they called it?
Not tuxedo—Look-See-Do.
Simple meaning: 'see and copy exactly'.
"...Body sees first, remembers, and copies perfectly."
The core of Look-See-Do— the 'memorization upon seeing'—where the Notebook naturally intervenes.
"Waaah..."
The kids' gasps of awe.
They'd been watching.
"Hm."
I picked bark from between my knuckles. Chuckled, turned to them.
"...I might not lose this match—"
"Berry, Jelly all done~"
"Fun."
Berry and Bell beamed, holding out the smartphone.
"Can show next one too...?"