Luna Morse, What the Hell?
What the...?
No matter how inexperienced she might have been back then, Tiny had never seen the Reaper express emotions so intensely. Stunned and flustered, he struggled to find words, but the Reaper didn't even wait for his response before pulling off her mask.
Revealed were long, pale purple hair and amethyst eyes that accentuated her striking features. In his previous life, her face had always seemed coldly impassive, but now it struck him as simply pure and innocent. And peeking through her hair were ears that weren't quite as long as an elf's but tapered to subtle points.
A half-elf...
She looked a bit younger than the woman Tiny remembered as "her," but otherwise identical. Except...
"Quarter-elf... rumors... thought they were bullshit. Elf blood... shouldn't produce black hair... b-but how?"
Her trembling eyes and stammering voice didn't suit the perpetually cool Reaper at all.
Tiny was just as rattled, but hearing her mention the elf lineage—something only a handful knew, including Carun's former king—snapped him back to reality. He wasn't clueless; piecing together everything she'd said so far, there was only one conclusion.
The Reaper really is a descendant of the Morse family!
Once he realized that, the odd feeling he'd had when fabricating her cover identity made sense. He'd probably overheard it in passing in his previous life—her family origins. Which meant...
This is a real mess.
It was absurd, but Tiny quickly schooled his expression. At least there was one silver lining.
"I-I thought... no one else but me... said I'd earn merits for the imperial family... get my territory back..."
The Reaper kept mumbling in confusion, too out of it to notice his face. Tiny itched to knock her out cold right then.
But if I screw up, I'm fucked.
Better to keep up the act than risk that.
"...The quarter-elf rumor is false. I had no idea anyone else from the family survived. Let alone run into one as an assailant..."
"But... I don't sense the Shadow Law from you... Why?"
Was the Reaper of this era just that inarticulate, or was she simply flustered? Seeing his former comrade—someone he'd brushed shoulders with while dancing on death's edge—act so green stirred strange feelings.
"...My constitution didn't suit it, so I learned something else. I just adapt a few family techniques here and there."
He kept his expression locked down tight amid it all.
"Constitution? Right... rare fit. But black hair, black eyes... looks direct line?"
"Doesn't it vary by person?"
"...Could be... sis?"
Her overly innocent expression pricked his conscience harder. But survival came first.
I'll come clean someday and clear the misunderstanding.
He stowed that thought and nodded calmly.
"...Why not."
"Yeah... possible."
His seamless performance started straightening out her bewildered gaze. And then...
"All my actions... for the family revival. Can't kill family."
Perfect words for the moment. Tiny inwardly cheered and pressed for answers on the remaining questions.
"Then can you explain what's going on? Why is the imperial family's shadow attacking me...?"
"But earlier... how'd you know... I'm imperial?"
Her piercing question hung in the sudden silence.
Shit...
You fucking idiot! He cursed his earlier self while keeping a straight face.
"Only Valentia and the imperial family know I went to Karina. Valentia wouldn't harm me, so anyone trying must be from the palace, right?"
"Then... who said 'Reaper'?"
He flinched. She's no fool, just clumsy with words.
"Slipped out. Your techniques are so eerie... That first dagger throw was Grim Reaper’s Throw, wasn't it?"
"...Ah, makes sense."
She nodded right away—his quick thinking was flawless.
"Then tell me why. Why attack me?"
"Emperor's orders... Kill you before Karina if possible... or on return. But your spirit... too fast."
Tiny ground his teeth at her blunt reply.
"...Why would the Emperor...?"
"Don't know. Just follow orders..."
"Nngh."
Why target him—or Valentia—at this juncture? A heavy stone settled in his already uneasy chest.
What the hell is that mad bastard Emperor thinking?
Demon worshippers were closing in, and Carun had already erupted in chaos. Yet here he was, ignoring the signs of upheaval for power games? What was the point of Tiny busting his ass like this? To save scum like that?
Do I really have to protect this shitty palace, old man?
He lamented to the absent Sword Emperor, but no answer came.
Damn it, not my problem. Head to the capital first. Dump this headache on the Sword Emperor...
Best plan for now.
"I need to get back to the capital ASAP. What about you... sis?"
Forcing out "sis" nearly twitched his lips. Turning away casually saved the act.
"Sis...? Me?"
Fortunately, her reaction was good.
"...I'm fourteen now."
Her eyes widened. She and Tiny were both around 170cm—tall for a woman, but for his age, he was a giant. Average adult men were this height; he could pass for twenties anywhere.
But something else shocked her more.
"I'm... the big sis..."
Her mumble sent a chill through Tiny as he glanced back. A faint blush colored her cheeks, her lips curving into the tiniest smile.
And then.
"...I have family."
Tears streamed down with her trembling voice.
"Not alone anymore..."
Her clear, wide eyes welled up as she smiled through the tears—so heartbreakingly pure it shook Tiny's gaze too.
Damn it...
Guilt crashed over him, but he clenched his jaw and turned away. He vowed silently.
Someday, I'll apologize properly. On my knees if I have to... no matter what.
A slimy unease crept from his chest. Lying to good people—even allies, even an assassin—hurt more than expected. His last rational protest that assassins weren't "good" drowned the moment he saw her pure tears.
Then.
"I'm Luna Morse. What's your name, little bro?"
Her quivering voice halted even his determined retreat. Hearing the Reaper's real name—unknown even in his past life—hit hard.
"...You know it. Tiny... Morse."
His heart too heavy to tack on "Morse," he barely managed. Facing her would've blown his cover instantly, but she didn't press.
"Tiny Morse... See you again, little bro! Big sis won't forget."
As her presence faded with those words, something forgotten flashed in Tiny's mind. He whipped back desperately.
"You idiot...!"
Assassins were assassins, imperial or not. He suddenly recalled how failed ones were handled.
She can't get hurt. That'd disrupt our forces!
Yeah. Purely strategic, not personal.
"You can't just go back like this! It's a mission!"
His shout echoed through the night-shrouded woods. But the desperate cry got no reply—she was gone.
And.
- It's fine. Big sis can handle it.
Her voice echoed in the empty air. Tiny stared blankly at where she'd vanished long after the echo died.
"Feels like shit..."
He muttered self-reproachfully.
"Get back fast, sort this mess. Then..."
The Reaper—no, Luna Morse—would live. If the palace flipped out, even a failed assassin was too vital to discard immediately.
So...
"Hurry, Wolrang!"
"Awooooooo!"
The silver wolf and rider sped off again—faster than ever.
"What?! Say that again!"
A furious roar echoed in the pitch-black chamber.
"Th-the Morse guy who showed up in Karina three days ago shrugged off a barrage of Thunderbolts unscathed."
The shadow at the head table trembled visibly, clearly reeling.
"How the hell did he cover that distance in three days? His spirit isn't even a flyer! Is he some super spiritist now!? He's just a half-assed knight-spiritist!!"
Belittling the man who botched Carun as "half-assed" only demeaned their own blocked schemes more. But common wisdom held that multi-classing—splitting focus between two paths—rarely led to greatness.
The head shadow's rage had basis.
"...I don't know. Even a pure spiritist at that level wouldn't outpace normal beast spirits by multiples... It's inexplicable."
"Damn it! At that insane speed, he could reach the capital in three days?!"
"...Yes."
The reporter bowed deeper as the head bellowed again.
"A guy who withstood our secret weapon might show up right before the deed?"
His voice chilled further. The other shadows around the round table stayed mute, until the reporter ventured cautiously.
"...One man's word won't shift the palace defenses. He's infiltrated incognito, so if we spin it beforehand, we could even fan the Emperor-Valentia rift."
Voices finally stirred around the table.
"Right! Thunderbolt was unbelievable even for most of us till we saw it. One of his masterpieces."
"Agreed. We've only mass-produced it recently—no one knows. No one'll buy that guy's ravings."
Overly optimistic, but tempting to the shadows. One voice rarely sways "common sense."
Their arguments sounded solid, but the head shadow stewed silently, displeased. At last.
"...Won't cut it. Advance the plan."
His bombshell drew instant backlash.
"Pardon?"
"No!"
"We've prepped so much!"
"We need the royals together. Emperor and crown prince especially..."
But.
"That damn Morse ruined Carun. He's why that one can't act directly. Wait around doing nothing? What if he fucks it up again? Who's taking responsibility?"
No one answered his storm of words.
"Royals don't all gather only on wedding day. Sans Emperor, they'll rehearse informally the day before for protocol."
His point held sway.
"Fair, but the Emperor..."
"Notify that woman of the change. Tell the Blue Fox to handle him directly—say it's essential despite risks. Honestly, no Valentia by the Emperor's side might be better for us."
No more objections. Their plan shifted.
