Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Executioner
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The old butler's dry fingers fastened the buttons. The shirt collar wrapped tightly around his sturdy neck. Above it was the face of a man who had just passed forty, handsome and dignified. His name was Cardo Rubel. A viscount's son who had risen to unprecedented heights, now a marquis. Marquis Rubel entrusted the butler with his attire and read his letter. It was a letter from Lena Rubel, arrived at dawn today.
"Any mistakes?"
"I've checked it several times. No mistakes at all..."
The butler hurried to defend himself at the marquis's question. But he couldn't finish his sentence. Lena's laughing words came back to him.
—What if I'm found dead tomorrow?
Lena had said this with poisoned tea before her. Recalling it, the butler swallowed dryly. What on earth was that? Beyond unease, it felt ominous. He couldn't even guess what the young lady meant. As the butler fidgeted silently, a large hand suddenly gripped his shoulder.
"I don't think you made a mistake."
"Master..."
"I know how thorough you are."
The butler's trembling stopped at his master's kind voice. Not because his fear vanished. Quite the opposite.
"I-I'll take care of the rest. This time, perfectly, without any issues...!"
The butler clung to the marquis in near panic. He didn't want to be seen as a useless old man who knew too much by his master. As he pleaded in a low voice, a dull knock sounded.
"Come in."
At the marquis's permission, a young maid entered. She bowed politely and handed him a note. As the butler watched anxiously, the marquis unfolded it and murmured.
"Better this way, at least."
The marquis gave a wry smile and handed the note to the butler. The butler hesitated before taking it. It contained a brief report.
—The Southern Duke invited Lena Rubel.
The maid's information made the butler's face even paler. He had investigated Lena somewhat yesterday. To find out how a supposedly dead young lady had suddenly appeared. But her name wasn't on the palace's official invite list. So where did she come from? A guest personally invited by the Southern Duke. Stunned by the unexpected heavyweight, the butler suddenly had a question.
'Then why yesterday...'
Why did she come alone? Why show up alone, revealing only her name, without using her status as the duke's honored guest? The marquis, thinking the same, chuckled deeply.
'She was testing the waters.'
To learn her father's intentions. That's why she hid her backer and appeared. To see how Cardo Rubel would react. The result: turned away at the door. And an attempted poisoning. Insults she never would have faced as the Southern Duke's guest. The marquis looked again at Lena's letter. The mockery in it was palpable. The father smiled at his daughter's cunning. A smile full of sorrow.
***
"Young Lady, get up!"
A young maid raised her voice under the bright window.
"Hurry! The old man is calling!"
At Uni's repeated shouts, Lena buried her head in the pillow. She had gone to bed too late last night. She lost track of time chatting with Lin in the garden by chance, then stayed up until dawn delivering the letter. Sleep-deprived, Lena mumbled into her pillow.
"Just let me die from the poison..."
"Don't say such awful things! Open your eyes!"
Uni shrieked and yanked the blanket away. Truth be told, Lena had never won against Uni. Defeated again, she reluctantly got up. After the commotion, Lena emerged as an elegant lady once more and left the room. Outside stood an attendant who had waited long for her. The one who had invited her to the palace: the attendant of the South's leader, Duke Bill Alres Grasha.
***
The old man's rough skin was covered in scars. From minor scratches to deep gashes. All brutal remnants of the Southern War. Exactly a century ago, ominous stones called altars appeared, plunging the world into chaos. The dead rose in grotesque forms from the altars, and Grasha split into east, west, south, and north to wage horrific wars against the wraiths. The East crushed the wraiths first and reclaimed the altars. The North declared victory next. The West fell pathetically, becoming land of the dead. And the South fought fiercely until recently to win.
Southern Duke Bill Alres put an end to generations of war. One might expect triumphant boasts from the conquering general, but from the old man came only a deep sigh, not tales of valor.
"Did you rest well last night, Your Grace, Duke Alres?"
The lady entering the reception room lifted her skirt hem in greeting. The young maid with her bobbed her head too. The Southern Duke glanced alternately at the beautiful lady and young maid—Lena and Uni—then sighed.
"You always surprise me."
"You're too kind."
"You arrive without notice, change your name on a whim, and even went to see Rubel of the North yesterday? Without a word to me."
The Southern Duke scowled and scolded Lena. She feigned innocence before sincerely apologizing.
"I have no excuse for that. I should have greeted you first. Please forgive me."
"I'm not saying this for an apology, and the real issue is elsewhere, isn't it?"
The Southern Duke tensed his jaw and scanned Lena's form. He should be angry, but the sight left him dumbfounded. At a loss, he finally spoke like a man choking.
"Why on earth are you a woman now?"
A foolish question. He knew it, but couldn't help it. Lena's eyes widened at the bewildered query, and Uni boldly chimed in.
"How's she supposed to answer that? No one asks the old man why he's a grandpa."
"I've been an old man for the last ten years. But you weren't a woman just half a year ago."
An insolent retort, but the Southern Duke replied without anger. Lena and Uni covered their mouths in surprise instead.
"Surely you don't mean she wasn't a woman just because she didn't wear skirts..."
"Wow, so outdated."
"No, Uni. Even if it's true, don't say it so bluntly."
"Wow, a mindset so ancient it's only good for preservation."
"Much better."
"This isn't a joke."
The Southern Duke ground his teeth at Lena and Uni's banter.
"I'm asking why the expensive mercenary I hired showed up in skirts."
He furrowed his white brows and asked again.
"Answer me, Executioner."
***
The Southern War, ended just half a year ago, was called the Silent War. There was no sound in that war. No commands from officers, no shouts from soldiers, no groans from the wounded. Only the occasional screams of the fallen. It began and ended in utter silence. The Southern troops desperately stifled all noise because of the wraiths. The wraiths crawling into the South were thralls of the King Who Swallowed the First Cry. And they reacted to sound. They wandered with their gaunt, withered bodies until sound rang out, then turned feral. At the slightest noise, they lunged with teeth bared, jaws unhinging endlessly to devour flesh and bone. So the Southern army swallowed every sound in every situation, earning the war its eerie nickname.
In such conditions, few kept their sanity. The wraiths' horrific forms and worse atrocities, endless battles, repeated defeats, and no respite even for a sigh—soldiers reached the point of praying for death.
'Is this the end...'
The Southern Duke sighed at the blackened sky. Even that was half-muffled. Two years ago, the South teetered on the brink. The Swallower of the First Cry devoured it greedily, and survivors faced the same fate soon. Defeat loomed, but the leader held the field. To buy time until Northern troops arrived. If he retreated, the last line would crumble like sand. The South would become like the West, wraith territory. Resolved to die, the Southern Duke wryly surveyed his hastily gathered troops.
'What a meager last supper.'
The South had lost most of its forces. To fill ranks, they recruited the too young, too old, the sickly. It made sense. Who sane would die as kindling, even for a fortune? Heart heavy, the duke stood firm. He scanned the mercenaries again and clicked his tongue.
'The one most likely to die first.'
Among the wretched lot, one puny figure stood out. Face wrapped in cloth, but his hands betrayed his youth.
'Even sending out kids like this.'
With dread, the Southern Duke ordered the advance. Then he stared wide-eyed. Unable to offer encouragement, he resolved to watch their path to the end. Veins bulged in his straining eyes, but he held back tears and etched the final battle in his mind.
Then, in the last moment, a miracle. Black blood sprayed in the battlefield's center. Wraith blood, severed silently in an instant. The duke doubted his eyes. Losing three men per wraith was a win; now blood spurted soundlessly. Each spurt severed a neck. Dazed, he sought the source. It was that kid. The one doomed to die first. The young mercenary wove through the field without a sound, dagger felling wraiths. Unfazed by their toxic miasma. His movements were relentless. No—deliberate. This is my hunting ground. I am the only hunter. All stop and become prey. Or submit to me. The duke realized then: among his kindling, hid the torch of holy fire. From that moment, the tide turned. Knights took up spears behind the youth; commoners praised the duke and his brave knights with each victory report. But those at the forefront knew the true hero. With awe, they named the mercenary. Executioner. A merciless title fitting the one who calmly executed the wraiths.
***
"Um..."
Lena smiled awkwardly, lips pressed. Truth be told, the subject herself didn't care for the moniker Executioner. It felt childish, honestly. Suppressing a cringe, she addressed the stern-faced Southern Duke.
"First, to clear a misunderstanding: I've never pretended to be a man."
"Right. She just wore clothes fitting the situation."
"You can't do mercenary work in a dress, after all."
"Exactly."
The lady and maid's brazen explanation made the duke cough awkwardly. As they said, the Executioner never claimed manhood. In the silence where voices couldn't carry, the duke had assumed. Realizing the truth, he gazed at Lena with embarrassment. He had invited the ragged mercenary to polish into his proxy. But she arrived gleaming, no polish needed. In a dress, no less. As the duke sighed in frustration, the silent Lena asked.
"I'm sorry for surprising you, but is there a problem?"
The duke raised his brows as if to say what nonsense. Smiling at the foolish old man, Lena added.
"You invited me, not a man."