Chapter 3
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 0.5
Chapter Title: This is a Crime (1)
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In determining a person's first impression, clothing accounts for more than seventy percent.
This was a truth that held firm even in the 21st-century South Korean job market, and in a class-ridden medieval fantasy world, it was a law directly tied to survival.
Luxury brands were worn to display one's dignity, after all.
That's why today, I gritted my teeth and pulled the most expensive piece from the clothing store.
"Hmm."
The man in the mirror looked pretty sharp.
Shedding the Holy Empire's baggy priest robes for a crisp white shirt and tailored black suit made me look like a completely different person.
Dark black hair like the night sky, even deeper black eyes, and contrasting pale skin to top it off.
Anyone would mistake me for a noble young master... though at my age, it just meant I'd successfully hit the standard nobleman look without pricking my conscience too much.
'Not bad at all.'
It was sudden, but this was a spot my friend had boasted about introducing me to. The least I could do was show basic courtesy.
I straightened my clothes one last time and headed to the appointed place, 'Blooming Garden'.
"Your name, sir?"
"It should be reserved under Mikhail de Astria."
"Ah, a guest of the young master. Please, follow me inside."
I found myself adjusting my tie without thinking as the seasoned manager personally led the way.
This was the kind of lavish treatment that screamed power and money poured in.
Trailing the manager's endlessly courteous lead, the interior was sheer opulence.
Flowers of all four seasons bloomed through magic, filling the garden, while lights developed by the Mage Tower emitted warm sunlight.
In the dead of winter, this was the ultimate indulgence: basking in gentle sun and flower-scented breezes.
The moment I stepped into the garden with such fanfare, my breath caught.
There, in the center, sat a woman sipping her tea.
Silver-white hair like woven moonlight cascaded over her shoulders, framing eyes as transparently blue as a summer sky.
Even passersby would stop and turn for a second look—her beauty was overwhelming. And her figure could set countless men's hearts ablaze.
She looked like she stepped straight out of a romance fantasy.
'Fuck.'
The word 'woman' felt too mature; 'young lady' or 'girl' suited her better. Early twenties at most?
A serene mana presence, an unshakable frame forged through endless training.
I didn't know who she was, but I did.
[Well, if I die, there's my little brother and sister. The line won't end.]
[Hey, you bastard, don't make those grim jokes!]
How many women in this world matched that description perfectly, mirroring Mikhail de Astria?
'A distant relative, maybe?'
It had to be. Just some far-off kin who happened to look alike.
I pushed down my unease and approached her. She set down her teacup with a bright smile that made the surrounding flowers pale in comparison.
But the words from her lips were chillingly cool.
"Hello. I'm Lucia de Astria. Are you Daniel, my brother Mikhail's friend?"
Mikhail, you fucking bastard. Have you lost your goddamn mind?
Before my brain could process, she landed the finishing blow.
"I'm currently in my fourth year of the upper division at Ailene's Cradle Academy."
Ailene's Cradle Academy. The continent's top educational institution.
Upper division fourth year. That put her at a ripe twenty in 21st-century terms.
If I weren't that guy's friend, there'd be no issue.
"My lady, I'm terribly sorry, but something urgent came up. Would it be alright if I stepped away briefly?"
"Pardon? Oh, of course. I heard from my big brother that this was a sudden arrangement."
Even dropping the 'big brother' confirmation kill-shot so kindly in the middle of this. How thoughtful.
Of course it was.
"Mikhail, you crazy son of a bitch! What kind of lunatic sets up his own sister with someone?!"
- Daniel. Calm down for a—
"Calm the hell down?!"
The Astria Family's history ran deep.
From the era a thousand years ago when the founding hero vanquished the primordial evil that descended upon the world, swearing peace in his name.
Five hundred years ago, when a tyrant the likes of which the world had never seen ascended the throne of the continent-unifying Arks Empire, they were the first to draw their blades.
Even as the Arks Empire fractured amid civil war, they steadfastly protected the people under unwavering justice.
Now, holding one of the Ilysia Empire's three ducal seats, the name Astria carried unimaginable weight.
The youngest daughter of that empire's sole three ducal houses—the Astria Family, known as the 'Sword and Shield'.
Lucia de Astria.
To her, the Astria name was the perfect nest.
No need to look far.
Five years ago, the hero who ended the Holy-Demon War that terrorized the continent was her eldest brother, Mikhail de Astria.
And her father was the legendary Swordmaster who, twenty years prior, ended a local war with the Knight Kingdom of Rubelheim in a single stroke.
"To sever the present: Human. The past: Earth. The future: Heaven. Thus, the World Line shall be cleaved."
A rending screech as the sky split. Black galaxy fragments visible beyond the blue expanse.
"Can I do it too?"
"Of course. Listen to Mom and Dad, and you'll get there someday, Lucia."
The sight of her big brother cleaving the heavens was etched into Lucia's retinas, her flesh, her very soul.
The pure desire to become like her brother, like her father.
From that day, she took up the sword.
"Mikhail! What have you shown Lucia?!"
"...Pardon? I just sliced the sky a bit—"
"...Grab your sword and meet me in the training grounds."
"Father?"
There were sad tales of wails echoing from the training grounds that day. But that's how Lucia took up the sword.
"I'm worried, but she'll manage. Don't be too harsh."
"That boy Mikhail filling our baby's head with strange ideas—!"
"Dear, one more word and dinner's octopus tonight."
"..."
Her parents, especially her father, wanted no part of their youngest walking a harsh path and pushed arts like music and painting instead. But to Lucia, they were dreadfully boring.
She understood at a glance, mastered in two, surpassed her teachers by three.
A prodigy in both pen and blade. The flower of high society. Flawless perfection.
More plainly: omnipotent.
High and aloof, perfect from the pinnacle.
They called her that, but the flame burning in Lucia's heart yearned for one thing alone.
To rend the heavens and shatter the earth—with the sword's edge.
But reality was unforgiving.
"Lucia, isn't it time you started looking into marriage prospects?"
"Pardon? Well..."
Costs for eating, sleeping, and training didn't fall from the sky. Lucia knew that well.
That her 'once-in-a-generation genius' status relied entirely on her family's support.
If cast out tomorrow, she'd be nothing. So she quietly obeyed her parents.
"Swordsmanship can wait, but missing the right age for meeting people is harder to fix."
In this world, marriage was duty, not choice. She didn't love the idea, but no need to drag it out.
"Your big brother... Sigh. Should've arranged a betrothal when he was young."
And above all, there was that existence hammering nails into her parents' hearts, so she wanted to lighten the load.
She did...
"All the prospects are such posers! What am I supposed to do?!"
No man caught her eye.
Noble sons strutting on family prestige. Sword 'experts' all talk, no skill.
Disgusted by the horde eyeing only her looks, she blurted it out in a huff.
"From now on, all betrothals will be decided by duel."
A bomb dropped in high society.
Already an Aura High Expert who devoured knights like snacks, no contemporary man could beat her.
'Did I overplay it?'
Essentially a celibacy vow.
It stabbed her parents' hearts, pricking her conscience, but her sword craving burned hotter.
"No man without the guts deserves you. Don't worry."
"Dear, dinner's octopus tonight~."
The three siblings nearly evolved into four, but anyway.
As she honed her blade beyond Human toward Earth, her big brother broached the topic casually.
"I have a decent friend. Want to meet him?"
"One of your friends?"
"Yeah. From the Holy-Demon War—"
"You have friends, brother?"
"Our little one’s gotten quite sharp-tongued..."
Suddenly suggesting a meeting. With a friend, no less.
Miraculous. She hadn't even known he had friends. He'd always used 'acquaintance', 'guy I know', 'colleague'. First time saying 'friend' outright.
And a Holy-Demon War veteran? Curiosity piqued.
A survivor from the front lines might have lessons to teach.
Half-expecting, half-doubting, she came—and now felt utter confusion.
'...No mana at all.'
The man before her, Daniel.
Solid frame, at least. Footsteps and weight shifts betrayed solid training—a common tell.
Not bulky, but firm lines and scars on hands no makeup could hide screamed knight.
But knights, mages—even civilians had mana. Not a trace here.
Like severed from the world, utterly devoid of presence.
As if a mana-repelling freak of nature sat there.
'Brother wouldn't lie.'
Friends or lovers? Likely bullshit. But not something he'd deceive over.
Which made it weirder.
Even a priest surviving the Holy-Demon War's heart without mana defied her common sense.
"Um, Daniel?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"Do you have some kind of mana-related disability?"
"Ah, well..."
Curiosity won out; she asked.
"Got hit with a massive curse at the end. Put a hole right through my soul."
"Pardon?"
"Roughly a million? Better call it beasts, not monsters."
She stepped on a landmine.
In a fantasy world, mana was like an organ. Hands, feet, heart, eyes—all served purposes; mana was no different, a natural body part.
Put another way:
'Why no mana?' = 'Why no hands?'
Extreme example, but straight-up personal attack. I lived fine without it, so I wasn't sensitive—but others flipped out, so I rolled with it.
'Not that they can't comprehend at all.'
Like asking an orphan 'No parents?'—instant lifetime's worth of insults in 0.2 seconds.
Or quizzing a lifelong mage who lost mana in an accident. Not a good look.
"I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to apologize."
See? The lady shrinking like a violet.
I gave a wry smile and lifted my teacup.
If she'd said 'Why single?', I'd sue for slander, everything on the line.
"It's fine, Lady Lucia."
This? Just cute slip-up.
"Deputy Director, five years left on that celibacy vow, right?"
"What nonsense, Second High Priest. Who takes vows twice?"
"Kyahaha. True to form, District Chief~."
"These bastards lost it."
Look at those subordinates who scraped my nerves earlier this year. Daily life for me—most barbs bounced off.
No malice anyway.
"Still, best to avoid asking others."
"Yes..."
But spreading it around? Problematic. Objectively rude.
"..."
"..."
Silence fell. Tough for a lady to restart convo here.
My turn. Luckily, we shared a strong link.
"Has Mikhail ever mentioned his first love?"
"First... love?"
A spark of curiosity lit her blue eyes, that age's leaf-rustle giggles peeking through.
Nothing juicier than family romance tales. One promise needed, though.
"But secret from your future sister-in-law."
Leak it? Catastrophe. Mikhail charging with holy sword? I'd be innocent.
She knew the gravity, nodding firmly.
...Sorry for selling out his dark history, but he set this up. Reap what he sowed.
"That guy? Total lunatic."
Started with number one: drunk confession disaster.
"Waaah. Brother looks like two!"
Snowy midnight. Two figures pressed close.
Flushed face, high-pitched laughs, booze stench. Society's pact: this was blackout drunk.
"..."
"Mikhail. Hear me out first."
Getting a woman blackout drunk? Socially dubbed 'shady moves'.
In short.
"There's a ton of backstory here— Hey! Don't draw the holy sword!"
"Uweeeek."