A Single Dagger Should Suffice
House Harmatan had once been a prestigious noble family.
At least, they had been about two centuries ago.
Relying on their signature swift sword style, they had vanquished countless challengers and even dared to vie for the seat of Northern Archduke. Yet their bid ended in bitter failure, and as a price for their ambition, they were cast out to the harsh fringes of the northern frontier. Territorial feuds between noble houses were commonplace, but the losers inevitably suffered a precipitous fall from grace. House Harmatan was no exception.
Yurio was a talent unlike any their family had produced in generations. The problem, however, was his congenital illness—a chronic affliction that tormented him without respite. It bred in him an uncertain temperament, a timid constitution, and an ingrained sense of defeatism. Had he not crossed paths with Ziel, he might very well have been contemplating dropping out of the academy by now. That was how deeply this nameless ailment had dragged him into despair.
"My... illness?"
Thanks to Ziel's intervention, his breathing technique had been adjusted to smooth out his mana flow, but that was merely a stopgap. Unless the underlying condition was cured, an insurmountable wall awaited him.
"Yes. Your illness, Student Yurio Harmatan."
"B-but no one has ever been able to cure me..."
To find a cure, Yurio's father had liquidated the family's dwindling possessions one by one to hire renowned physicians. At times, he had even sought out celebrated esoteric practitioners. Yurio had watched his family's fortunes steadily decline, painfully aware of his father's desperate devotion. Yet now, an instructor was offering to look into it?
"I know a doctor."
"Every doctor my family consulted didn't have the slightest clue what was wrong with me..."
There had been a few who acted as though they knew, of course, but every single one had turned out to be a quack. Yet Ziel merely gave his usual calm, impassive reply.
"This doctor will know."
It was difficult to believe. Had anyone else spoken those words, Yurio would have dismissed them out of hand. But if Instructor Ziel was this confident... Instructor Ziel had completely transformed his academy life and his future. He was a man worth placing his faith in.
"Student Yurio Harmatan. You need to be cured."
"I... suppose I do."
"Adjusting your breathing technique offered some relief, but it is not enough."
Ziel was right. Thanks to the altered breathing method and his natural talent, Yurio had managed to come this far, but the future remained precarious. Once he stepped beyond the protected grounds of the academy, his prospects would grow bleaker still. Even now, he could feel the faint, irregular flutter of his own heart.
"Going out in the dead of night just for me..."
"I have other business as well."
Other business? Yurio wondered if the instructor needed to run an errand in the city.
"Furthermore," Ziel added, "this is a person who can only be met at night."
As if under a spell, Yurio sheathed his sword, returned it to the rack, and gathered his things. A person who can only be met at night? He could not begin to imagine what kind of person that might be, but he fell into step behind Ziel nonetheless. Though he had just finished an exhausting training session and felt ready to collapse, fatigue was the least of his concerns.
"Um, Instructor? Curfew is approaching soon. Is it really all right for us to be out like this?"
Ziel stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to answer.
"I am an instructor."
"Oh."
"Students accompanied by an instructor receive no penalty points."
A wave of sheer relief washed over Yurio. Was it because it was Instructor Ziel, or because he was exempt from the dreaded demerits every academy student feared? Either way, he felt remarkably secure.
"Let us go."
Leaving the training hall behind, the two made their way toward the academy gates. This is my first time stepping outside since the entrance ceremony. Most students spent their weekends roaming the capital's entertainment districts, but that was a luxury Yurio could never afford. His father's modest allowance could barely cover the exorbitant prices of the imperial capital. Commoners often assumed nobles led lives of boundless luxury, but nobility came in many tiers. In the barren lands of the North, anyone who wasn't a great lord lived frugally, pinching every coin. For an impoverished house in the far northern fringes, survival was even tighter.
"Instructor, I think I'm actually a little excited."
"Why would you be excited?"
"Because we're leaving the academy grounds?"
"I see that is considered exciting for students."
"Everyone usually goes out on weekends to have fun, but Karen and I never had the money..."
Karen's family was penniless in an entirely different way.
"You mean Student Karen Aswan?"
"Yes."
"Understood."
Normally, an instructor would have probed further, but Ziel asked nothing more. He's being considerate of our circumstances, Yurio thought, letting his admiration fill in the blanks. In truth, Ziel simply had no interest in asking. There was no deeper motive behind his silence.
"By the way, Instructor, did you really write that training manual yourself?"
"Yes."
"Have you written books before?"
"Never."
"Then how could you possibly..."
"I referenced other texts to compile it. It was not difficult."
It sounded utterly absurd, yet Instructor Ziel had done it. At this point, Yurio was convinced the man was capable of making anything sound entirely reasonable.
They walked until they reached the main gates of Edelbein Academy. With an instructor at his side, the guards offered no resistance and let them pass without question.
"Leaving with you really makes it effortless, Instructor."
"Is it difficult for students?"
"The guards block us at every turn. It's impossible to slip out. Even trying to scale the perimeter wall would get you caught instantly."
The wall? Ziel cast a glance back at the high stone ramparts enclosing the academy. While towering and laced with a continuous current of defensive mana, it did not appear particularly difficult to overcome.
"I will have to reconsider my curriculum."
"Pardon?"
"Clearing that obstacle is not an arduous task."
A sudden chill crept down Yurio's spine. He had a terrible feeling he had just opened his mouth at the worst possible moment.
"Uh, well, it's not that we physically can't, it's just..."
"I will incorporate leap training and wall-scaling into our future routines. Keep that in mind."
"......"
A dark premonition told him that immense suffering awaited them the moment the Exchange Event concluded. We're knights in training, not common thieves or assassins!
Edelbein Academy was situated on the outskirts of the imperial capital, requiring a modest walk to reach the city center. The nighttime streets were eerily quiet. A few scattered figures wandered the cobblestones, but the lively bustle Yurio remembered from his arrival was nowhere to be found. It's so deserted... almost frightening.
Before leaving for the capital, his family's butler had sternly warned him never to wander through secluded districts, whether by day or night. The further one strayed from the capital's grand boulevards, the worse the public order became. It almost feels like a ghost town.
Their footsteps echoed crisply against the stones in the stillness. Only when passing occasional taverns and inns, where lamplight spilled through curtained windows, did the oppressive quiet briefly lift.
"This way."
Moving with practiced ease, Ziel led the way into a narrow, shadowed alley. The moment they stepped inside, the acrid stench of stale urine and rotting refuse assailed their nostrils.
"Ugh..."
Where in the world were they going? Beggars lay sprawled haphazardly along the dirty walls, shivering in their sleep.
"Stay close."
Intimidated by the unfamiliar squalor, Yurio kept his head down and hurried after Ziel's brisk pace. They eventually halted before a weathered door tucked into the bend of the alley. Ziel turned back to face him.
"Student Yurio Harmatan."
"Y-yes, Instructor?"
"Forget everything you see and hear tonight."
"What?"
"If you do not forget on your own, I will make you forget. Understood?"
A prickle of sheer terror ran down Yurio's neck. He nodded reflexively.
"Y-yes, sir..."
He didn't know why, but his instincts screamed that obeying was a matter of survival.
"Do not address me by any title. Answer only with yes or no."
"Yes... I understand."
Thump, thump.
Ziel struck the wooden panel twice. No answer came from within.
He immediately followed with three sharp raps.
Thump, thump, thump.
Only then did a raspy voice filter through the crack.
"We're closed. Get lost."
Yurio blinked, confused, but Ziel spoke evenly.
"I have a silver coin."
A silver coin? What does that mean?
A moment later, the latch clicked. The door creaked open, revealing an elderly, stooped man who thrust out a heavily wrinkled hand.
"Show me the coin."
Ziel placed something into the weathered palm. The old man squinted at the metal, his brow furrowing before he released a weary sigh.
"Goddammit. With Black Sky dismantled, I thought I'd finally get some peace and quiet, and now someone shows up with one of these? Are you alone?"
"There is one more."
"Where's the coin for the brat?"
"One should be more than enough."
"Hmph, sharp as ever. Come inside."
Click.
The door shut behind them, and an entirely unexpected scent met Yurio's nose.
Disinfectant?
Having been examined by countless healers over the years, the sharp, chemical odor was instantly recognizable. The interior was a chaotic mess. Shelves were packed with unlabeled medicine bottles and strange instruments of indeterminate purpose, centering around a broad wooden table that was undeniably an operating slab.
"Hah, a Dikelen Silver Coin... I never dreamed I'd lay eyes on one of these again. Where the hell did you get it?"
"Have you forgotten the rules?"
"I know, I know. 'Offer total assistance without asking a single question to whoever bears the coin.' Fine."
Yurio could make neither heads nor tails of their exchange. Just who is Instructor Ziel? As a storm of questions brewed in his mind, Ziel's quiet voice cut through the silence.
"Remember what I told you."
"Y-yes, understood."
It was as if the man could read his very thoughts.
"So," the old doctor muttered, scratching his scruffy chin, "what do you need that's worth parting with a silver coin?"
"I want you to treat this boy's illness."
"An illness?"
Tilting his head in doubt, the old man shuffled toward Yurio and began probing his body with rough, calloused fingers. "He looks fine enough on the surface... hm."
His hands paused over Yurio's chest.
"Irregular. Highly abnormal. Honestly, it's a miracle you didn't drop dead as a child." The doctor peered up at him. "Brat. Were you born with this?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"Do you even know what it is?"
"I asked doctors... and priests, but none of them could tell me..."
"Hah! You went to quacks, that's why. Those pampered bastards only know what's written in textbooks. Their actual skill is pathetic."
Some of those healers had been imperial court physicians, so they could hardly be called quacks, but Yurio dared not argue.
"Let's run a proper test. Stick out your arm, kid."
Yurio hesitantly extended his arm. The old man produced a hollow needle from a tray.
"This'll sting a bit."
"Guh!"
It was far more than a sting—it was a sharp, tearing pain. Dark crimson blood was drawn into a small glass ampoule.
"Sit tight. I can't offer you tea; I'm about to get busy."
Clutching his aching arm, Yurio stood frozen in place. He glanced toward Ziel, but the instructor's earlier warning rang clearly in his ears. He told me not to speak. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. He had expected to see a respectable physician, not an unlicensed surgeon hidden in a foul back alley.
After a tense wait, the old man returned from the back room.
"Just as I thought." He shook the vial lightly. "Looking at the blood, it matches an old record I have."
He actually knows what it is?
"It's exceptionally rare."
"What is the condition?" Ziel asked.
"Doesn't have an official name. It's a localized defect of the heart. The rhythm is erratic, and the myocardial tissue is dangerously fragile. Congenital, through and through."
"I see."
"In my entire life, I've only seen it twice before. First time was across the border, in Renata."
Renata was a sovereign kingdom bordering the Empire.
"What became of those two?"
"Dead. Neither made it past the age of ten."
"......"
Yurio froze solid, his breath catching in his throat.
"Well, those kids were doomed anyway," the doctor added casually. "They didn't have the luxury of learning mana breathing techniques. Looking at this brat... I'd say he grew up with someone pouring considerable resources into keeping him alive."
His father's sacrifices had not been in vain after all.
"Still, it won't last forever. Even if mana sustains the surrounding tissue, it can't prevent permanent heart failure in the long run."
Heart failure. The phrase hung in the air like a death sentence. Being frail was one thing; facing an inevitable, premature demise was entirely another. Yurio began to tremble uncontrollably.
"To put it simply... a specific metabolic process in his body is fundamentally deformed compared to normal humans. Because of that, the heart's metabolic support remains critically deficient, meaning the organ is doomed to break down eventually." The old man cocked his head, scrutinizing Yurio's calloused palms. "Taking blood earlier, I noticed your hands. You've been practicing the sword? With a body like this?"
Ziel cut in before Yurio could respond.
"Is there a treatment?"
"There is, yes. But it's an agonizing process."
"Explain."
"It requires poison. We have to use lethal toxins to forcibly restructure his metabolic pathways. In layman's terms, we're tearing down his biological framework and rebuilding it."
It sounded simple when spoken aloud, but the concept was staggering.
"Which means... the formulation of the poison is everything. The trouble is, that's beyond my capabilities. It requires absolute, microscopic precision. In short, we need a master specialist for the synthesis."
Ziel's expression remained completely flat.
"That will not be an issue."
"......"
The old doctor opened his mouth to question him, but wisely swallowed his curiosity and shifted the topic.
"Even so, we'll need specific ingredients. Unfortunately, I don't keep them in stock."
"What do you require?"
"Five roots of Edelin, and a wing from a Velberg. I have the final reagent here, so those two are all you need to supply."
Edelin. And Velberg's Wing.
Both were ingredients utilized in brewing supreme, lethal poisons. While Edelin could be obtained with sufficient effort, the Velberg was an extraordinarily rare creature, making its wings nearly impossible to procure.
"Securing a Velberg wing won't be easy. I doubt the local black market has any in stock right now. Tracking down that bastard Derza might be an option, but who knows if he's even operating these days. That crook charges astronomical prices anyway."
Ziel simply gave a brief nod.
"I will return within three hours."
Flick.
Ziel produced another coin from his coat and flicked it toward the old man with a snap of his thumb.
"Have the preparations for surgery completed by then."
The doctor's eyes bulged as he fumbled to catch the spinning metal.
"This is..."
"An advance payment for the treatment."
"O-oh, you shouldn't have..."
The doctor's face suddenly went pale. A creeping dread seized his chest.
Two priceless Dikelen Silver Coins? In this line of work, that meant only one thing:
You must cure him, no matter what.
No one in the underworld handed out extra coin out of generosity. Every boon came with an absolute price. That was the unwritten law of the shadows.
Just who is this guy?
The old man had assumed that with the collapse of the assassin syndicate, his bloody days were behind him. Yet here was a client presenting Dikelen Silver Coins, demanding a cure for a sickly noble boy. Worse still was the chilling emptiness in the man's eyes.
It can't be the Phantom... can it?
Reliable underworld whispers claimed the Phantom had already fled across the imperial borders. Unless the legendary killer was utterly insane, he wouldn't remain in the capital while the imperial authorities hunted him day and night. Of course, even if he recognized him, the old doctor would take the secret to his grave. A man who blabbed didn't survive decades as an illicit back-alley surgeon.
The silver coin in his hand felt impossibly heavy.
"I shall return shortly," Ziel said, turning toward the exit.
Stepping out of the hidden clinic, Ziel vanished into the shadows, his feet carrying him swiftly across the rooftops and alleys.
The black market.
It was the fastest way to obtain both ingredients. Rare though they were, nothing was impossible to find for the right price. The stash of Dikelen Silver Coins he had secured before assuming his cover identity at the academy was more than adequate. Furthermore, procuring the medicine wasn't his only objective tonight. As he had mentioned to Yurio, he had another matter to attend to in the underworld's bazaar.
"Hm."
However, slipping into the black market uninvited carried complications. Gaining entry was not simply a matter of possessing wealth; the criminal underworld enforced strict security. One had to prove affiliation with a recognized syndicate, or else be vouched for by a verified underworld guarantor. Ziel, having severed all ties with the collapsed Organization, no longer held valid credentials. Nor did he know the exact coordinates of tonight's market, which shifted locations continuously to evade imperial raids.
While he was capable of tracking it down on his own, doing so within the time limit required a simpler solution.
He needed a companion.
A familiar face instantly crossed his mind.
"For this errand... a single dagger should suffice as payment."
In the quiet of the night, crows cawed into the dark expanse above.