Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Phantom Thief Dauphin (11) - Fulfillment
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"H-He fell in!! Should we jump in too?"
"At night like this, diving into the water won't let us find him properly! Gather more men! We'll wait up here and snag him the moment he floats to the surface!!"
While the other guards made a huge fuss about catching the Dauphin who'd fallen into the river, Dalia alone glared at the water with a displeased look on her face.
It wasn't frustration from the failed attack or regret at not capturing him for sure.
That wasn't the reason for her displeasure at all.
Rather, it stemmed from Dauphin's reaction just moments ago.
When Dalia had charged into the whirlpool, Dauphin had visibly panicked and tried to hold back his attack.
Worried that his own strike might critically injure her, he hadn't properly countered her riposte—even though she could have dodged it.
It felt exactly like ambushing him by exploiting his goodwill or consideration.
If Dauphin had heard that, he would've shot back with something like, "Isn't the one who got careless in the middle of a fight the one at fault?" and owned up to his mistake without hesitation. But Dalia's rigid personality wouldn't let her think in such clear-cut terms.
"L-Lieutenant! How's it looking? Did you finish that bastard off for good?"
The spoiled young noble—who'd been Dauphin's target and had hidden himself during the fight—rushed over now that it was over and asked Dalia.
Dalia replied in her usual curt tone.
"...At least his right arm. Maybe even his ribs are shattered."
"Haha! Excellent! Splendid! I'd heard you were skilled, but I didn't expect this level! With a broken arm and tumbling into the river, he might not even crawl out and could drown instead. Serves him right!!"
Evidently thrilled, the young noble alternated between praising Dalia and cursing Dauphin.
Dalia listened silently, but in the corner of her vision...
She spotted a boy in ragged clothes staring vacantly at the river where Dauphin had fallen.
The boy soon turned his head and shot a resentful glare at the young noble and the lieutenant receiving his praise.
Thanks to the mask Dalia wore, he didn't notice her looking back at him.
"We can't be certain it's safe yet. You should head back now."
Dalia steered the noble's gaze away so he wouldn't spot the boy.
The noble glanced at the river, suddenly anxious at her words, then hurriedly followed behind her.
Dalia suddenly looked up at the sky.
She had protected her charge from threats and stopped the culprit.
She had undoubtedly fulfilled her duty as a guard. Yet somehow, the moon in the sky seemed to reproach her, and Dalia quietly lowered her eyes.
***
In the end, the Dauphin who fell into the river was never found.
The guards chattered half-optimistically, half-hopefully that he'd drowned after plunging in injured, while the city's reactions split to extremes.
The upper class cheered but felt uneasy without a body, while the lower class despaired or insisted he couldn't have gone down so pathetically and spread survival rumors.
And another day off arrived for Dalia.
Slipping out of her quarters in casual clothes, Dalia fell into a daze, lost in thought.
'Where to go.'
In the past, she'd have used a walk as an excuse to patrol the city even on days off.
She might have checked if guards from other squads were taking out their frustrations on civilians.
But now, it wasn't easy for her to venture into the commoner districts as usual.
The condemning old woman's face and the boy's resentful stare lingered in her memory.
Few could connect her bare face to the "8th Squad Lieutenant," but they weren't nonexistent—like that old woman.
Going to the commoner or slum districts as usual would only stir up needless trouble.
Heading to the upper class areas would bring a warm welcome, but also requests to prioritize their protection first.
Unable to easily decide on a direction, Dalia hesitated awkwardly.
She considered returning to the barracks to rest, but that might worry her squad unnecessarily.
They'd tell her to enjoy a hobby, but for someone whose life had merged with guard duties, hobbies didn't come to mind...
"...Ah."
There was one.
Though calling it a hobby bruised her pride—a little, no, quite a lot.
Still, it was a place where she could spend time with pure enjoyment, free of duty or responsibility.
"Gotta repay the favor anyway."
Muttering words that seemed aimed at no one, Dalia headed to "his" house.
On the border between upper class and other districts.
A building too modest for nobility, yet lavish for commoners.
Dalia stared at the front gate with the gravity of a battlefield entrance, then solemnly rang the bell beside it.
A clear chime rang out, and after a short wait...
"Hm? Ah."
The man who opened the door casually—making her tension seem foolish—saw her face and gave a faint smile.
"Please come in, miss. Glad you didn't forget our promise."
"Yeah, well."
Nodding cautiously, Dalia's eyes quickly checked his right arm.
Seeing him use it effortlessly to open and close the door, she relaxed her tense shoulders.
Good. Really good.
It was all just my imagination.
Tilting his head at Dalia's relieved expression, the man asked,
"Something good happen? Oh, right—I heard you shone again this time. Is that it?"
"Not that."
"I see. Well, come in first."
From there, it followed a similar flow to last time.
The man posed provocative questions, and Dalia countered, sorting through her inner turmoil.
But it wasn't exactly the same.
This time, her personal stories mixed in with the debate.
Dalia normally disliked sharing her past.
Even in her squad, only a few veterans who'd been with her for years knew it.
So opening up to a man she'd met only twice was unthinkable—but somehow, words flowed easily before him.
Maybe she just wanted to vent her recent burdens and stress this way.
"Me? I've been strong since I was little. Sounds weird, but abnormally so."
She outmatched peers and even adults in strength, never caught deadly childhood illnesses.
Her toughness was freakish—even falling from a second-story height as a girl left no scratches.
"Dad, er, my father..."
"Feel free to just say 'Dad.'"
"...Dad was troubled, but I was thrilled. He had such wanderlust; a normal kid couldn't keep up or would hinder him. But I could."
Bandits once held a knife to her throat to hostage her against him.
She'd been hit by a stray arrow protecting civilians in a territory skirmish.
A wolf pack that tasted human flesh had bitten her arm while raiding merchants.
Each was lethal to a child, but Dalia survived unscathed or with mere scratches and bruises.
"But others found it eerie. Called me a monster, a witch's transformation, even a monster mimicking a human. Then Dad said, 'Dalia, that constitution of yours isn't monstrous or weird. It's a gift from the gods in heaven to protect people. So ignore those fools.'"
After a poor impression of him, Dalia chuckled.
"That was the only time Dad called the people he protected 'fools.' He'd act all saintly toward ingrates usually, but insulting his daughter? Couldn't stomach it."
"Hm."
The man paused, choosing words, then asked,
"So that's why you became a guard? Born with great strength, using it to protect people?"
"Half yes. The other half? Survival."
"Adventuring was an option. Birka Kingdom's Adventurer's Guild started as vigilantes, I hear. That helps people too, no?"
"Don't like adventurers."
Dalia grumbled sullenly.
"They take money to hunt monsters but act like they're doing villages a favor, bullying locals. Or slack off on purpose after rough treatment from lords, harming territory folk. Or turn bandit on the spot when pay's low. Spout romance and defying nobles, but they're just armed thugs chasing personal gain."
"I-Is that so?"
"Levruk gets adventurers sometimes; we're near enemies with the guards. They call us bootlickers hiding under nobles 'cause we can't survive on skill alone. As if they're not day-laborers without steady pay."
The man seemed oddly flustered.
Pondering if she'd said something off-putting, Dalia suddenly considered,
'Maybe an adventurer or related?'
If so, she'd badmouthed unintentionally, so she felt a twinge of guilt.
Clearing her throat, she continued.
"Doesn't mean I hate all. I know some are good—like the guild tackling the lich without noble negotiations. Squad praised them; if they hadn't acted fast, the whole kingdom might've been at risk."
"Indeed. Their courage and dedication in a tough choice deserves due praise. A world where goodwill is mocked, exploited, and cynics hailed as wise is worse than a sewer."
Dalia flinched involuntarily.
She recalled other squads—except hers—mocking them as "morons who played heroes and died."
She'd sensed it before, but growing doubts about her job made her sigh again.
Noticing, the man changed topics.
"So, your martial skills from your father?"
"Spear arts and mana reinforcement. Can't emit blade aura or anything. Can infuse weapons briefly, but just enough to activate my spear's length adjustment."
After her explanation, he requested,
"Could you extend your hand for a moment?"
"...? Sure."
Dalia complied, and he overlaid his hand on hers.
She glanced around awkwardly, but he focused entirely on the contact, oblivious.
Moments later, he gave a wry chuckle.
He'd grasped how her father felt realizing his daughter's constitution.
'Thrilled. But baffled too.'
There was a concept called mana cultivation methods.
Techniques channeling internal mana specifically to increase innate capacity, imbue properties, or other effects.
Famous knight or warrior houses guarded them as secrets, including physique enhancement.
Greater strength, durability, stamina.
Groups with means to boost warrior traits dominated those without.
But consider this hypothesis.
Cultivation is willing mana flow through set paths.
What if one's natural, unconscious mana flow was already optimized for strengthening the body?
If someone enjoyed lifelong benefits others train decades for, from birth?
Not easy, of course.
Even minor path errors ruin results; half-baked methods are worse than none.
Like tossing dominoes in air expecting a perfect pattern without tweaks—rare.
But if real...
If someone truly born that way...
'Copy her instinctive flow, tweak slightly, and craft a secret technique to forge a whole knight order.'
Not for everyone.
Dalia used it naturally from birth, reaching low 5th-rank physical prowess without auras. Others wouldn't match her efficiency.
Still, it was power for the weak.
What choice would she make when gifted it someday?
He was curious about that future but in no rush.
It needed time to perfect, and dumping it on her amid her issues would just burden her.
Still, a fine discovery. Worth forcing his arm with the suit, he smiled.