Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Reincarnator's User Manual
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Midnight had slipped past unnoticed within the confines of the servants' on-duty room.
Inside the roughly 350-square-foot space, six maids sat huddled together, their usual quiet shattered by the sudden commotion echoing from the mansion's upper floors.
Normally, the patrol teams—organized in pairs—worked in strict shifts, making it a rare occasion for the entire group to gather. However, Shiron's impulsive actions had sent the patrols scurrying back to exchange news.
Young Master Shiron had smashed the sacred relic chest.
He had fled the mansion, carrying the relic with him.
And, to everyone's surprise, Young Lady Lucia had followed him into the night.
Yet, even in a situation that would look like a dire emergency to an outsider, there were those among the staff who remained entirely unfazed.
Encia, who had been patrolling the corridors only moments ago, smugly extended her hand toward a colleague.
"See? I told you so! Fork over those 100 silings, and be quick about it."
"...But isn't this a bit different from what you predicted?"
"What's the difference? I clearly said the Young Master would land a solid hit on the Young Lady before the succession ceremony. Come on, pay up."
The maid sitting on the bed, her knitting needles frozen, felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. This was the result of a bet Encia had floated a month ago.
The black-haired maid let out a deep sigh and pulled ten 10-siling coins from her wallet.
"Is this really 'landing a hit'...? I thought you meant they’d actually have a brawl."
"I saw it clear as day! The moment the Young Master smirked, the Young Lady flew into a rage. And now, she’s leaped out the window in her pajamas just to chase him. If that's not landing a psychological hit, then what is?"
"Hmm... I suppose you have a point."
Encia beamed as she snatched the coins. Ophelia, watching the exchange, could only let out a heavy, worried sigh.
"But... aren't you two worried about them at all? Betting so casually when they're out in the cold..."
Ophelia, waiting for her next shift, simply couldn't comprehend her roommates' breezy attitudes.
What if something happened to the heirs of House Prien? Anxiety gnawed at her, and she fidgeted nervously with her fingers.
"It's fine, Ophelia. I already sent a quick report to Yuma. And get this—she already knew everything."
Encia, still flushed from her hurried return, unbuttoned the top of her blouse and began fanning herself with her hand.
"Besides, this isn't the first time something like this has happened. You're only worried because you're still not used to the way things work here."
"Come to think of it..." A girl who looked like she’d just woken up rubbed her eyes.
"There was a similar incident before... seventy years ago, maybe?"
"Ah! I remember! That orange-haired boy with green eyes. The one who strangled his little sibling to death, right?"
"Yeah. Such a weakling. He killed the child himself and then bawled like a baby for days. Absolutely ridiculous."
The maid with the black bob-cut giggled as if she were recalling a particularly amusing anecdote.
"Still, comparing Young Master Shiron to that trash is a bit much. Sure, he's mischievous, but he's already proven his abilities. And the Young Lady... well, even talking about her talent is exhausting."
"Is that so? Now that you mention it, these things do happen every few decades. It's really no big deal."
"Exactly. If things go south, a collateral branch will just produce the next family head. Life goes on."
"...Aren't you all being a little too callous?" Ophelia asked, unable to reconcile her roommates' cold-heartedness with her own soft nature.
Encia plopped down beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Ophelia, your heart is too soft—it’s going to get you in trouble one of these days."
"Is it?" Ophelia bowed her head.
"Winter is almost over, and the succession ceremony is right around the corner. If the Young Master is the rightful heir, it would be weirder if he didn't have abilities on par with the Family Head. So stop fretting."
The mention of the Family Head—the father of Shiron and Lucia—stirred a vague memory in Ophelia.
"The Family Head... that trash, right...?"
"No, 'trash' refers to that ugly bald brute from the branch house. This generation's Family Head is genuinely exceptional. It would be bizarre for someone without talent to hold that position."
"Ah... right. Yeah, that's true." Ophelia offered a sheepish grin at the correction.
Encia felt a trickle of cold sweat run down her back. 'Ophelia calling him trash... who's the callous one here?' she wondered. She knew well that in Ophelia's simple worldview, that term was reserved specifically for those devoid of talent.
Leaving Dawn Castle was no great feat for the boy.
He didn't need to struggle with the firmly sealed gates; he simply used the spears he had pre-embedded in the walls as a makeshift ladder.
"Hyah."
Shiron landed lightly in the snowfield. His months of training had paid off; even from such a height, he descended without a hint of strain.
He glided effortlessly over the frozen ground, glancing back to ensure his follower was keeping pace.
"Clear as day," Shiron murmured, gazing up at the Milky Way stretching overhead. In this remote wilderness, without a single artificial light source, the sky was a dreamlike masterpiece.
It was a view impossible to find back in Korea. His sense of adventure swelled, and a tune started whistling from his lips.
As he hummed, Shiron pondered his route. Compasses were useless in this region, leaving the stars as his only guide.
'Outskirts of Dawn Castle, southeast for about thirty minutes.'
He recalled the details of the game. Dawn Castle was a late-game stage in Reincarnated Sword God, a dungeon that emerged after the player dealt with the "fake boss," Shiron Prien.
'The difficulty was a total nightmare...'
Even for a pro like him, clearing it had demanded dozens of retries. Yet, Shiron chose to move now, at night.
He knew that while the tutorial-level Lucia was currently a novice, the real threats within the castle—the maids—were far more dangerous than the beasts in the forest.
Grrr...
A low growl emerged from the darkness. His humming had drawn a presence.
'Perfect.'
His first real combat prey had appeared, and Shiron's lips curled into a battle-hungry grin.
"Alright, time for the massacre."
"What... it's just a lone Frost Wolf that strayed from the pack. You're making way too much noise."
"..."
He ignored Lucia's incredulous interjection from behind, focusing solely on the enemy ahead.
Shiron dropped into a low stance and drew his sword. Gleaming eyes met his from between the underbrush, frost rising from the beast’s breath.
The wolf lunged, jaws gaping toward his face. But the move was telegraphed. To Shiron, dodging such a straight-line charge was child's play.
He bent his legs and slashed upward. Slash! The blade rent the wolf's belly, launching the beast skyward. It shrieked as blood sprayed across the snow.
Thud—
The demonic beast slammed into a tree, its momentum hastening its end. It lay on the ground, heaving ragged breaths, unable to rise.
"Hoo."
An unsatisfied look crossed Shiron's face as he approached the dying wolf.
'I aimed for the vitals, but it didn't drop in one hit. Man, I'm still weak.'
He raised his sword and plunged it into the wolf's eye. Crack— The hilt transmitted the crunch of bone to his fingertips. The wolf went rigid and breathed its last.
"That's it? All that drama for this?"
The peevish assessment came from Lucia, who had watched the bout intently.
Clad only in slippers and pajamas, she rubbed her chilled arms and shot him a glare.
"Are you cold?" Shiron asked, brushing off her jab with a smirk.
"Yeah. Thanks to someone, I'm out here in a winter forest wearing pajamas and no coat. I'm freezing."
"If you'd trained the way I taught you, you wouldn't be cold."
Shiron shrugged off his coat and held it out to her. Lucia simply stared at him.
"..."
"What? Take it already. Your arms are going to fall off."
"Are you... are you really not cold?"
"I told you I wasn't. When have I ever lied to you?"
"..."
Lucia accepted his gesture quietly. Come to think of it, he had never lied to her. 'That absurd training regimen was legit...'
She gazed at Shiron's back as he led the way. In just a tunic and straw shoes, the boy showed no sign of shivering, walking as if he were on a springtime stroll.