Fate (1)
“If you go out there, you’ll die.”
Elijah said it with a chilling smile. I strained to move my rigid body. First, I focused on my fingertips. I rolled my eyes to scan the surroundings. It was just me and Elijah in the room. Since this was a place for important talk, all the servants had been dismissed. I mentally traced an imaginary escape route. Could I make it? Elijah was a mage. She wouldn’t even need teleportation. One blast of that fire she’d used against Valak, and I’d be charred to a crisp. That brilliant golden flame. How many times had it killed me? Well, technically the character, not me.
Even if I get out, the room’s empty, but there’ll be people outside…
As I pondered gravely, Elijah subtly stepped back. She strolled to the window and spoke casually.
“Can you handle the Bebel family’s reprisal?”
…Huh?
So when she said I’d die, she meant…
The frantic escape routes vanished from my mind. Elijah hadn’t said she’d kill me. She’d said I’d die. I’d been so fixated on her that I’d overlooked the rest. Valak. He’d declared he’d be watching me. He’d use indirect methods without touching Elijah herself. That meant he’d pull out all the stops to monitor me from now on. In the worst case, I might drop dead on the street someday. Staying here in this mansion, close to Elijah, was actually the safest option. It was true. Living only at the training camp wasn’t ideal either. Elijah had always been indifferent to her guard knights, so security there was lacking. She’d pointed that out herself. Now, I had no choices left.
“Ah…”
What the hell had I been fantasizing about all alone…? I felt embarrassed.
Elijah smiled and asked, “You have no choice but to live here, right?”
I stared blankly at her beaming face. Her cheeks puffed up roundly. What was so great that she was grinning like that? I was going to leave you anyway….
……
The image of Elijah whimpering and crying flashed in my mind. Not the Elijah I knew, but an awkwardly unfamiliar version. She smiled so easily, as if she didn’t even remember. This face felt so new too. I’d never seen her smile like this. And then, overlapping it again—the murderous villainess who’d looked ready to kill me.
“You’ll be safe here.”
“…I’ll make sure I’m not a burden to you, miss.”
In the end, I had no choice but to accept.
Let’s think positively. I was still scared she might burn me alive. Especially after that look she’d just given…. Just thinking about it sent chills down my spine.
Why smile so terrifyingly if you’re just gonna confuse people…! Or was that all in my head because I freaked out?
But there were upsides. I could follow the nutrition coach’s diet. That was my one consolation. Oh, and partial safety from Valak.
…But isn’t Valak watching me because of Elijah? If she hadn’t insisted on keeping me around, this wouldn’t have happened.
It was unfair, but what’s done was done. If I traced it back further, it started with me catching her eye. Self-inflicted. Spitting while lying down. This wasn’t a one- or two-day thing. My temper was out of control.
And now that temper means I can’t even run.
Valak might see my existence as a stain on a noble lady’s life and try to wipe it clean.
If the info guild helps, I could dodge his eyes, but no contact yet.
I’d run when Elijah’s interest waned. Plan unchanged. Valak and Elijah—two ticking time bombs were too many.
Her interest should be fading soon anyway.
In my view, this was the peak. Now it was all downhill. Sure, I’d be next door, but I wouldn’t run into her much. She was incredibly busy. I didn’t know the details. I had to go back and forth to the training camp too. I couldn’t spend long here each day. Her interest would inevitably fade.
From now on, I need to keep my temper in check…
I didn’t feel zero pity for Elijah. But taking responsibility for someone out of sympathy alone was arrogance. How long would that last? A lifetime? I couldn’t decide lightly. Once decided, I couldn’t treat it carelessly.
Even thinking of running is a bit arrogant.
Her interest might vanish entirely, leaving her indifferent to whether I stayed or not. The Elijah I knew got bored fast. One hope among many sparked a question. Why had Elijah come looking for me that dawn? What if her interest didn’t fade? What then? What if Elijah….
“Hmm.”
Elijah stared right through me.
“You’re thinking something weird, aren’t you?”
“N-No, not at all?”
“It’s all over your face.”
I touched my face. No idea….
“I don’t hate it.”
“…Thank you.”
“Does being here feel burdensome?”
Lying was pointless; she saw through everything. I gave up evading.
“To be honest, yes. As I said, it’s too much for me—far beyond what I deserve.”
Elijah didn’t frown at my frankness. It could’ve seemed rude, but she just smiled, satisfied.
“It’s not beyond you. Your master feels that way.”
“……”
That casual tenderness in her voice. Like she’d protect me. Again and again. These unfamiliar glimpses kept appearing. New sides of Elijah. It was confusing. Every time Elijah acted like this, I….
“Oh, right. I had something to ask you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I’m leaving Sir Gawain’s punishment up to you.”
“P-Pardon…?”
“From the tournament. He failed to detect the mana properly.”
Oh. Right, that happened. I’d forgotten.
“He deserves discipline, but nothing comes to mind. Other than killing him cleanly and sending him back to his family.”
…Classic villainess.
“But Sir Gawain’s someone I can’t do that to. So, asking the near-victim—you—seemed best.”
“Th-Thank you, but… can I really decide?”
“Yes.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that I started believing it too. As the victim, maybe it was right for me to choose? But I wasn’t like Elijah. I was an ordinary person who’d never meddled in anyone’s fate.
“Speak freely.”
Elijah propped her chin on her hands, smiling. Whatever I said was fine.
What to do? Gawain. The Bebel family’s capable knight. Head of the training camp. A true expert. He’d make a name for himself in the future too. My deliberation didn’t last long.
“Teach me the sword.”
I needed two things now: strength or money. Demanding cash as punishment from Sir Gawain was absurd. Instead, I’d take his strength. He’d missed Garum’s mana due to complacency, but he was skilled. As far as I knew.
Elijah blinked at me. Her eyes back to their usual sparkling red. They crinkled as she grinned.
“That’s new. Never expected you to want something like this.”
“……”
“You’re so diligent. Do you want to be my guard knight that badly?”
She’d misinterpreted my enthusiasm. I couldn’t deny it, so I just bowed quietly.
“You’re fascinating. Acting like you want to die, yet scheming so hard for the future.”
…I did act that way. Recklessly, like a dead man walking. I knew it. But I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t fearless.
“It’s not that I want to die. It’s that I refuse to submit, even in death.”
Leave me alone, and I’m docile. Surprisingly calm and composed….
……
W-Well, not entirely absent. Really. I mean… okay, during spars or workouts, I’m totally calm. It’s just that everyone keeps provoking me.
But I’d learned in my past life. Stay still, and you get stepped on. It’s not about weakness. People step on those who stay quiet even after being stepped on. So you bite and thrash to ensure no one can. To show that even if I die, I won’t be your stepping stone. Stay still, and you’re just a stair. People have the right not to be treated that way. Justice, ethics, good and evil—I didn’t know the hard stuff. Wrong was wrong. That’s why I’d defied Valak. I couldn’t pretend not to know what I knew was wrong. Bowing to injustice upfront, criticizing it behind closed doors, then exploiting or passing it on later? No. Turning away as long as it wasn’t me, only calling out the broken system when it hit home? Also no.
But really, if no one picks a fight, I’m quiet.
Take Elijah. I never defied her. …Come to think of it, I rarely had with her. Scared of dying? Big part, yeah. But more than that, she’d never provoked me. Never tried to force or crush something of mine. Surprisingly, she’d acknowledged me often….
“You’re free.”
Elijah’s words cut my thoughts. A light tone, like a sudden musing. She smiled at me. Clear, unlike her smile.
“Individuals have the freedom to rebel against what oppresses their own liberty.”
The words from her small lips were a bit lonely. Frustrated, almost. Like a soliloquy.
“You’re ready to die for your freedom. I…”
She trailed off, closing her mouth. Elijah gazed out the window. Staring distantly. Outside the second-floor window lay the mansion’s garden, planted with evergreens even in winter. Above it, the vast sky. And the window was closed.
Finally, she spoke, still facing away.
“I can’t do that, so you catch my eye.”
Her gaze reached somewhere high. Unlike my headlong charges into the immediate, hers looked far. She seemed weary.
“Am I foolish?”
“Where’s the foolishness in that?”
I blurted reflexively.
“Not everyone can live like me. Nor should they. But as you say, miss, I chase the freedom close at hand, while you value something farther off, grander. That’s the only difference.”
I voiced my thoughts. A novel experience. The game’s Elijah offered no such chance. Even in rare talks, I got choices, not words of my own.
Elijah chuckled.
“Teaching me now?”
“N-No, not like that…”
“You’re unusual. People with strong convictions like yours usually force their views on others. But you…”
Her head turned to me. Red eyes. Long lashes unmoving, words hanging, staring so intently it felt awkward. For a long time. Silently. Her eyes narrowed slowly into crescent moons. Her lips curved up. Pink cheeks rounded. Light shimmered. Smiling, she finished.
“You, who reject even the instinct for life, burning as if death right now means nothing—you’re truly wondrous.”
Elijah looked at me. I just bowed my head. Couldn’t meet her eyes.
“…Thank you.”
She replied with a bright smile.
“I’ll look forward to more. Judah.”
Such acknowledgment—my first in this vein. From Elijah, no less. My heart felt strange.
Swordsmanship (Lv. 1 → 2)
*
“Private lessons, huh…”
Gawain stroked his chin, muttering before me.
“Never thought this would substitute for discipline. Well, I should thank you, anyway.”
We met at an indoor training hall in Elijah’s mansion, far from the main building. Dirt-floored, for knights and soldiers staying here. Cleared out now.
“You’re truly satisfied with this? My sin isn’t light.”
“It’s fine. I see it as a great opportunity.”
“Hm… I knew you were an eager candidate, but you exceed expectations. Fine. If that’s your price, anytime.”
He tossed me a training wooden sword lightly.
“I’ve personally taught squires and others, but I won’t be a kind master. No confidence in being a good one.”
I caught it and listened.
“I prioritize practice over theory, criticism over praise. I don’t know restraint, so expect bruises. Last question: still okay?”
Exactly what I wanted. Brutal, merciless lessons beat half-hearted coddling. I sought power to protect my life. Especially now, with Valak to watch. I needed strength fast.
“No issue.”
“Good. I like that look in your eyes.”
Gawain tossed a shield too.
“First, show me your real skill. Come at me like you mean to kill.”
With Swordsmanship’s aid, I steadied my stance and approached slowly. Gawain wielded a single longsword. I probed cautiously, thrusting at an opening. But my blade twisted away easily, and his stabbed my solar plexus. A dull shock pierced me. Breath caught.
“Hngh—!”
“Again.”
After that, I got beaten like laundry under a club.
*
“Is he insane…?”
The curse slipped out. Gawain was the target. He’d thrashed me gleefully head to toe. Made me suspect he’d always wanted to. But it was effective, meaningful training. Worlds apart from the camp’s. Less teaching, more me learning through pain—but still.
The risen Swordsmanship trait level proved it.
Not something to do often…
We both had duties, so lessons twice weekly. Time and place flexible.
Learning through beatings is fastest. Gotta absorb as much as possible from this chance.
After, Anna escorted me. Last night’s uproar hadn’t deterred guests; Elijah’s birthday banquet continued.
“This will be your room from now on, Sir Judah.”
Next to Elijah’s bedroom. Spacious for one, fully equipped. Bathroom standard, even a dressing room. Never dreamed of living with one. Luxurious, sure. Far bigger and cleaner than last night’s isolation room. Anna would handle my needs here too.
“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll be right across.”
Needing more here meant lacking conscience, not stuff. After checking, I visited the 13th room guys. Banquet ongoing, so they lingered in the annex.
“Judah!”
“What happened?!”
“Hey! What went down at dawn?!”
“Assailant showed up? For real?”
“You okay?!”
They clamored. Valak had vaguely explained to guests, and they’d heard. I was honest but vague: Elijah attacked by intruder; I’d ducked into the bathroom by chance and spotted it. Unbelievable luck, but true.
“…That’s what happened. As you see, I’m unhurt.”
Beat up by Gawain, but not from dawn.
They fell briefly silent. Richard spoke first.
“You good?”
Not body—mind. First kill. They taught mental prep for murder. Guard knights killed anything threatening their charge—even people. But training ≠ reality. I was frank.
“Tense at first, but… surprisingly okay.”
“Yeah… good enough, man.”
Others said little on killing. Instead, praise and encouragement. Aspiring Elijah guards—expected.
Dillon clapped my back.
“Good work.”
This world’s ethics differed from mine. Still, their support comforted.
“Hm.”
Miguel, Elijah’s mansion head butler, adjusted his glasses and surveyed. The trash heap in the grounds’ corner. All mansion waste converged here, dumped periodically. Elijah’s birthday banquet hadn’t ended, so he should attend guests. But as overseer, he checked spots like this. Lax watch bred sloth. Duty, not loyalty—professional compulsion.
Elijah and Judah’s ordeal changed nothing; the world turned on. Miguel found it unremarkable. His real worry: whom to truly serve?
“Sir Miguel?”
A servant approached, dragging a sack of trash. Overflowing after one banquet day—shattered glasses, wine bottles. A few glass shards? Unnoteworthy.
“Found this.”
The servant handed a palm-sized paper. Trash paper got special care, especially noble gatherings. Secret notes exchanged? Rare to discard, but happened. Likely trivial—young nobles’ love letters. Still, no overlooking.
“Hm.”
Miguel took it. Crumpled heavily, dirtied with sand. But blank. Empty.
Tough material. Expensive. Not for tossing.
Ragged, worn tear at edge. Clearly written on, passed to someone.
Miguel held it to sunlight.
“Where?”
“Uh… not sure. Found it sorting. Sorry… Oh, near the guard candidate selection area, maybe. Not certain…”
Blank paper. Miguel removed gloves, felt it barehanded. Smoothed flat, sensing texture via prints. Creases obscured, but….
…Writing traces.
Pen pressure marks. Faint, but definite.
Volatile or erasable ink. To hide if caught.
Secret orders. Not for exposure.
Who’s so meticulous? And why?
Miguel pondered anew. Valak’s man, watching Elijah, reporting to him. Motive: curb her prodigious magic potential. She’d awakened recently. Dawn’s blaze lingered in memory. Conflict: power even Valak feared, reshaping forces? Follow it? Show the paper. Or raw novice, no base—stick to Valak? Hide it.
……
Miguel decided.