I Don't Want to Say
Lena was an investigator in the Personnel Bureau and the trusted right hand of Director Rocus.
Considerable time had passed since she had been ordered to tail the dismissed former professor, Dakeus Altman. During her stakeout and continuous surveillance of the man, she had uncovered two critical connections.
First, Dakeus met regularly with a specific individual.
Second, tracing that contact led straight to House Siren.
A link between Siren and Dakeus! If this proved true, it perfectly explained why Dakeus had instigated Yon during the selection matches to target Deleve Kundel.
And what was House Siren? They were the third-ranked lineage among the empire's nobility, sitting just beneath the colossal Grand Lord households of Kundel and Rihardt. Yet they had been third for generations, never once managing to break into the true center of imperial power.
They have more than enough reason to make a move.
Shadow wars between high noble houses broke out often enough. They ranged from petty rumors meant to tarnish a rival's reputation to terrifying plots directly targeting family heirs.
Still, I need clearer proof.
Continuing her pursuit of the contact, Lena had observed him rendezvous with two operatives dispatched to the Exchange Event: a mage sent by the Arcane School, and an unaffiliated knight bearing no allegiance to either Kundel or Rihardt. And following their trail had revealed the heart of the conspiracy.
Tampering with the magic puppets.
Lena was concealed halfway up Black Peak, where Match 1 of the Exchange Event was underway, watching the scheme unfold before her eyes. Rocus had only instructed her to track and monitor without taking rash action, but she understood the implications all too well.
House Siren wants to climb higher.
Kundel and Rihardt were the twin pillars of the imperial nobility. Targeting the youngest son of House Kundel was nothing less than a declaration of intent to wedge their way between those two giants. Nor were they moving without a plan.
"This should be plenty," one of the men muttered.
"Isn't it a bit too blatant?"
"It has to be blatant to serve as evidence."
Kundel and Rihardt were bitter rivals, and House Siren clearly intended to exploit that ancient feud.
A Rihardt insignia.
"The subtler clues come later," the first man said. "Once suspicion takes root, evidence this clear will ensure the blame sticks."
"Fair point."
The token the two men had dropped was an insignia of House Rihardt. It was absurdly obvious, but the man was right: once suspicion took hold, the rest would follow like clockwork.
This is getting out of hand.
Lena pressed on with her pursuit. After deploying the compromised magic puppets, the two men continued down the mountain, strewing false clues along their path. Fabric scraps, minor weapons, and house markers littered the trail.
They've planned this down to the finest detail.
Lena committed every trace to memory. She was an investigator who never acted on assumptions; her duty was to report everything faithfully to Rocus. But then—
"When are you going to deal with the rat tailing us?"
"Right now."
Danger struck before she could ever deliver her report.
Crack!
A throwing dagger sheared through the air. Lena twisted her body just in time, but the blade's momentum shattered several thick branches as it flew past.
It was imbued with mana.
Anyone capable of throwing a dagger packed with that much mana was an exceptional combatant. Keeping her momentum, Lena spun and bolted in the opposite direction, toward the summit. It was the only way that offered a chance of—
"Where do you think you're going?"
Crash!
A figure materialized at her flank, driving a brutal kick into her side that sent her hurtling from the canopy to the forest floor.
"Gah...!"
Lena crashed down from the branches, tumbling uncontrollably across the rocky earth before coming to a halt. A searing spike of pain shot through her left side.
My arm is broken.
The impact had been monstrous. Cold despair settled in her chest. They had seen through her tailing from the start. A man who threw mana-infused daggers and possessed kicks powerful enough to shatter bone in a single blow was far beyond her ability to handle.
A smoke bomb, at least—
"Not so fast."
The moment her hand reached behind her back, a heavy boot slammed down, pinning her wrist to the dirt.
"You've been following us for quite a while," the knight sneered, leaning down. "Find anything interesting?"
The mage caught up a moment later, squinting at her face. "Wait, isn't she with the Personnel Bureau?"
"Personnel?"
"Yeah. She's the woman who's always trailing behind Rocus."
"Aha. Personnel Bureau, are we? No wonder my spine's been tingling all day. That bastard Rocus sent you, didn't he?"
Lena couldn't move her arm. Escape was impossible.
"What do we do with her?" the knight asked.
"Eliminate her, obviously," the mage replied coldly. "Douse her with poison and bury her. She'll dissolve into nothing within hours."
"Pity. Rocus seemed rather fond of this one."
Shhhk.
The knight pulled a small glass ampoule from his coat and tipped it over the edge of a curved dagger. The steel took on a vile, iridescent violet sheen.
"Do it quickly. We don't have time to waste."
"I know, I know. Stop nagging."
The blade drew level with Lena's exposed throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself for the end.
Yet nothing happened.
Was it coated with paralytic poison as well? At least she wouldn't have to suffer through the pain of dying...
"...Who the hell are you?"
The poisoned dagger had vanished from the man's grasp. In the blink of an eye, it had simply ceased to be there, as though it had evaporated into the mist.
Except it hadn't evaporated at all.
"So it was you two," a calm voice stated.
The dagger now rested lightly between the fingers of an unfamiliar man standing right behind them. Neither the knight nor the mage could process what had just happened.
Him? How?
The purple-stained blade was undeniably the very weapon the knight had been holding a fraction of a second earlier. How had he taken it? When had he even arrived?
"Tinrel, I see," the stranger remarked, bringing the blade near his face.
How does he know that name?
"Mixed with poison harvested from dart frogs native to the southernmost jungle. A custom blend, isn't it?"
He identified the ingredients just by the smell?!
"It is remarkably efficient at dissolving corpses," the stranger continued in an even, dispassionate tone. "Were you planning to use it on that woman?"
"...And what if we were?" the knight snarled defensively.
"It doesn't matter. I was merely curious."
Lena stared in sheer disbelief. What kind of answer was that? Had he stepped in to save her, or hadn't he? And who on earth was he? She had never seen that face in her life.
"I tracked you down for a different reason," the stranger said.
Clack.
Ziel casually dropped the poisoned dagger onto the dirt, fixing his gaze on the two conspirators.
"You hijacked the command authority of the magic puppets, altered their programming, and directed them to attack the first-year class. Is that correct?"
Neither man answered.
Ziel tilted his head slightly. "A book titled Collection of Valdrain Proverbs states that 'silence implies consent.'"
It was an absurdly bizarre thing to say in the middle of a life-or-death confrontation, but technically speaking, the logic was sound.
"And your primary objective was Deleve Kundel. Correct?"
Again, absolute silence answered him. To Ziel, that was as good as an explicit confession.
"The proverb holds remarkably true. I must read it more often."
While Ziel was casually quoting folk wisdom, the knight flicked his eyes toward the mage, signaling an immediate synchronized attack.
Ziel didn't even blink.
"There was another saying in that volume," he murmured. "'The wolf in darkness hides its shadow, yet beneath the moonlight, its fangs are laid bare.'"
Wearing his skin mask, Ziel closed the distance so fast he seemed to blur through space, his fingers closing around the knight's wrist before the man could complete his motion.
"Your fangs are entirely visible."
In the knight's grip was a small dagger already humming with condensed mana—the exact weapon that had nearly struck Lena down earlier.
When did he draw that? Lena thought, her jaw slackening. She hadn't even caught the knight drawing the blade from his sleeve, let alone seen the mystery man cross the intervening distance. The man standing before them was operating on a level that defied belief.
"Urgh, dammit...!"
While the knight's wrist was trapped, the mage behind him frantically gathered mana, circulating it through his core. End him in a single strike!
Before the spell formula could even ignite, Ziel's other hand shot out.
Thump!
Ziel's fingertip drove cleanly into the center of the mage's chest.
"Guh?!"
The mana cycling violently through the mage's pathways ground to a screeching halt. The sudden disruption reversed the internal flow, rupturing his vessels and churning his stomach inside out.
"Cough... hack!"
A spray of bright red blood erupted from the mage's mouth as he collapsed to his knees.
Lena could scarcely summon the energy to be shocked anymore. I've read that halting mana circulation with physical strikes is theoretically possible, but... can someone actually pull that off in combat? Once ignited, mana cycled through the body dozens of times per second. To strike the precise junction point at the exact microsecond required an inhuman degree of perception and timing.
Ziel wasn't finished. Twisting the knight's captured wrist, he smoothly stripped the mana-coated dagger from the man's fingers and drove it mercilessly down into his shoulder.
"Aaargh!"
Thud.
The knight crumpled to the ground beside the retching mage, clutching his pierced shoulder.
"The proverbs are quite accurate," Ziel observed, looking down at them. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"You... who the hell are you?!"
"I don't want to say."
Ziel had very clear boundaries about what he liked and disliked doing.
"Curse you...!"
The knight was beside himself with fury. Some bizarre lunatic had dropped out of nowhere and completely derailed their mission. If they were captured here, everything was over.
"Die!"
Refusing to surrender, the knight reached into his left boot with his free hand, whipping out a concealed backup blade. But the attack never connected.
Snap!
Instead, his forearm folded at a grotesque angle. It happened so fast that neither Lena nor the knight could even register the movement.
"I will break the remaining arm as well," Ziel said.
True to his word, Ziel seized the other arm and snapped it with methodical efficiency, rendering the knight completely helpless. With his other hand, he reached into the man's mouth and deftly extracted the suicide poison capsule lodged against his back teeth.
"Not Crows," Ziel murmured, studying the unconscious man's posture. "Assassins, then?"
Neither answered.
Silence is golden. Ziel recalled yet another phrase from the book.
Turning around, he looked down at the mage, who was still dry-heaving blood into the grass. "You belong to the Arcane School."
Right at that moment, Lena forced her voice past the agonizing throb in her broken arm. "Both of them were dispatched by House Siren!"
"Siren?"
"Yes! Infiltrators sent by House Siren to assassinate Deleve Kundel... both of them are compromised assets bought by the Siren family!"
Ziel knew nothing of the complex political dynamics governing the empire's high nobility. But one fact had been made abundantly clear: House Siren was targeting Deleve.
The political games didn't matter in the slightest to Ziel. What mattered was that someone was trying to harm his student. Again.
"If Deleve Kundel had been injured or killed," Ziel said softly, "you two would have died on this spot."
The moment the two men caught the chill in Ziel's eyes, a suffocating wave of dread paralyzed their limbs. It was the distinct gaze possessed only by those who had mastered the Breathing of the Polar Night—an aura of absolute, primordial slaughter.
It was an instinctual terror that even hardened killers could not resist.
What kind of monster is this...?
Their agony was forgotten, swallowed whole by the breathless, shivering terror that seized their chests. Lena, sitting behind him, couldn't see Ziel's eyes directly and had no idea why the two men were trembling so violently. All she could do was stare at his back in awe.
He's entirely out of this world. Who on earth could he be?
Ziel turned his head toward her. "Are you an acquaintance of Rocus?"
Caught off guard, Lena nodded reflexively. "Y-Yes, but..."
"You carry Rocus's scent. Though it is somewhat distinct."
Lena's ears instantly flared bright red.
"Are you flustered or embarrassed?" Ziel asked bluntly.
"Wh-What?!"
"Someone I know exhibits the exact same reaction."
What in the world was he talking about?! In spite of the sharp, throbbing agony radiating from her broken arm, an intense flush of mortification washed over her. H-How does he know that? What does he mean by scent?!
"Did you come here under Rocus's orders?" Ziel pressed.
"Y-Yes... I was instructed to keep them under surveillance..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Ziel knocked both conspirators unconscious. The method was remarkably simple: he delivered a crisp chop to the back of their necks.
Lena was struck dumb.
Striking someone's neck like that was rarely reliable for knocking them out safely; more often than not, it shattered vertebrae or killed the target outright. Yet he had done it with the casual ease of brushing off dust.
"They will not awaken for at least three hours," Ziel said, glancing down at the limp bodies. "Unless subjected to heavy physical trauma."
He scanned their surroundings.
"The Exchange Event is still underway. Take them with you, ensuring that you do not disrupt the competition."
"Wait, what...?" Lena stammered. He expects me to carry them? Really?
"If the Exchange Event is interrupted, the students' hard work will be rendered meaningless."
It was an answer she never could have anticipated. The students' hard work? Who is this man? A faculty member?
She combed through her memory, but among all the full professors, elective lecturers, and teaching assistants across the entire academy, not a single one resembled this man.
Still, she nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your assistance. But if it isn't an imposition, may I ask why you helped me...?"
"I don't want to say."
"Then could you at least tell me your identity...?"
"I don't want to say that either."
Ziel had no intention of speaking. What he had demonstrated before Elcanto earlier was mere physical agility, but the techniques he had just deployed belonged unmistakably to the realm of high-tier assassination tradecraft. When dealing with Personnel Bureau investigators whose entire livelihood revolved around intelligence and tracking, revealing his identity was the height of foolishness.
Rocus was dangerous enough; there was no need to draw the man's attention any further. Thanks to the skin mask he wore, Lena remained entirely oblivious to his true face.
Though utterly bewildered by his curt refusals, Lena quickly refocused on her immediate responsibilities. Surveillance was my original order, but given the circumstances...
The Personnel Bureau needed to secure these two before House Siren realized their agents had been compromised. They had ironclad justification: attempting to sabotage the official Exchange Event.
I should head toward the summit to secure a safe vantage and contact the Director immediately.
She attempted to push herself up, only to wince in agony. "Ugh..."
Her broken arm hung limp, refusing to obey her commands. Worse, the impact of the fall had cracked several ribs, making every breath feel like a hot blade twisting in her chest. Dragging two unconscious men up the slope in this condition was a physical impossibility.
Ziel stepped toward her.
"Hold your breath."
Crunch!
"Mmph—?!"
Lena's vision swam. It felt as though her arm had been wrenched completely off its joint—yet a second later, the blinding agony subsided into a dull, manageable ache.
Ziel snatched up a sturdy branch from the ground, snapped it to the proper length, and bound it against her arm with rapid, practiced turns of a cloth bandage. In a matter of seconds, a rigid, functional splint was complete.
Just what kind of person is he?
"Judging by the rhythm of your breathing, your ribs are cracked as well."
Tap.
Before she could utter a word of protest, his fingertip pressed lightly against a specific point below her sternum. Incredibly, the suffocating chest pain vanished as well.
"The effect will not last long," Ziel advised calmly. "Seek proper medical treatment and consume painkillers once you return."
"Y-Yes..."
The more she saw of him, the more her mind overflowed with unanswerable questions.
"The academy guards will arrive in this area shortly," Ziel added, turning away. "Request their assistance. Or contact your Personnel operatives."
Having thoroughly laid out every necessary step, Ziel vanished into the trees as swiftly as he had arrived.
What was that...?
She felt as though a typhoon had blown past her and receded in the span of a single minute. But there was no time to sit in stunned contemplation. From down the ridge, the hurried footfalls of several people reached her ears.
"Over here! Over this way!"
Lena raised her uninjured arm and waved with all the urgency she could muster.