The Wrong Person to Cross
The Balkar Kingdom.
A nation of mystic magic and peerless artifact-crafting, it stood as one of the Six Kings alongside House Zieghart—a power of the highest order on the continent.
Jaina Ruin Balkar was that kingdom's princess.
Being a princess of Balkar was impressive enough on its own, but she also possessed exceptional magical talent and a unique ability at a young age. Wherever she went, she drew every eye; whoever she met, she commanded respect. Even with her face hidden behind a mask, people recognized her. She was one of the few true royals on the continent.
True to her blood, Jaina could not stand to lose. If she lost a fight, she would tear through scrolls worth hundreds of gold just to snatch victory back. If she lost a wager, she would throw down dozens of times the original stake until the win was hers.
When she heard that the mercenary who had beaten her at the gambling tables the day before was in a shop, she went looking for him—and that was when she saw the ring in his hand.
A golden glow?
Her innate appraisal ability, Stir, activated on its own, revealing the true grade of the rusted ring the man was holding: Unique.
What's something like that doing here?
An item like this had no business sitting in a dump of a shop. It belonged on the second basement floor of the black market, at the very least. And yet there it was, sitting in this man's palm. The ring was rusted, but that hardly mattered. A Unique-grade artifact was the kind of treasure you couldn't buy even if you showed up with bars of gold.
Jaina offered to buy the ring for ten times its price. Honestly, she expected him to just hand it over. By now, even a clueless mercenary like him should have figured out who she was.
But he refused, flat and final. She raised the offer to fifty times the price. His answer didn't change.
She'd been turned down, but inwardly, she smiled.
He doesn't even know who I am.
The thought of this ignorant grunt finding out her identity later and shaking in his boots was too delicious to pass up. She let him go for now.
The man walked into the auction house without so much as a flicker of reaction to her mockery. He spent a while just watching the lots go by. Then, for the first time, he placed a bid—on a butterfly called the Black Butterfly.
So that's what he was after.
Jaina smiled and raised her hand. Every time the man bid higher, she topped him. Before long the price had climbed past thirty gold, and the man's hand rose with agonizing slowness. Forty gold.
Only forty?
The man who'd taken the ring had maybe thirty-five, forty gold to his name. Pocket change. She sneered and called fifty.
"Nngh…"
The man let out a groan and lowered his hand. It didn't rise again.
After that, Jaina bought every single item the man bid on, paying nearly double whatever he offered. The face of the man who'd dared to defy her withered like a flower left without water. He looked like he was starting to realize whose toes he'd stepped on.
That's the look.
The money didn't bother her. She could earn that much back in no time. What she really wanted to see was that expression—a human being drowning in despair and panic.
"Hah…"
The man left his belongings behind and walked out of the auction house. Jaina's smile turned bright with anticipation.
I can see it already.
He'd just found out who she was. The shock on his face was as good as guaranteed. He'd splash some cold water on his face to pull himself together, then come back. And after that, it was even more obvious. He would drop to his knees of his own accord and offer up the ring. In this world, no one who made an enemy of Balkar lived to tell about it.
Jaina crossed her long legs and settled in to enjoy what remained of the auction, savoring the image.
A short while later, as the auction was winding down, the man returned.
Just as I thought.
His face was damp, exhaustion written all over it. He'd clearly learned who she was and been shaken to the core.
"Heh."
Jaina stood behind him with an arrogant smile on her lips.
"Having some trouble, are we?"
She delivered the taunt with a sweet little smile, fully expecting him to drop to his knees and bow his head.
His reaction was the exact opposite of what she'd imagined. The man waved her off with an expression of pure annoyance, looking for all the world like he was shooing away a fly.
"You deaf?"
Is this lunatic serious?
He still didn't know who she was. That was the only explanation. No one would dare act that insolent otherwise.
"I guess you don't know who I am."
She was about to pull off her mask when a guard she'd stationed in a private room came running in a panic.
"M-my lady. The auction items in the private room—th-they're gone."
"What?"
"The butterfly and several other lots have vanished without a trace. I-I don't understand how—"
The guard was shaking. No one had entered, he insisted, and yet the items were simply gone.
"What kind of bullshit is—"
"Having some trouble, are we?"
She was about to tear into the guard when the man echoed her own words right back at her, smiling. A sneer. The exact same smile she always wore when looking down on other people.
It's him!
Her instincts, which almost never failed her, whispered the truth. This beggar was the thief.
"It was you."
Jaina spoke with absolute certainty.
"What was?"
"You stole them!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
The man shrugged. The dim-looking fellow beside him was the only one trembling.
"You picked the wrong person to mess with."
Jaina bit down on her red lips and pulled off the fox mask. It was a face no one in this place could fail to recognize. The man's expression, however, remained thoroughly unimpressed.
"The hell are you doing?"
"You don't know who I am?"
"No. Should I?"
"Ha!"
The fact that he genuinely looked like he had no idea only made her angrier.
"I'm Jaina. Youngest daughter of Lostas Dirua Balkar, King of the Balkar Kingdom!"
"A princess of Balkar?"
She'd swallowed her pride and named herself. The hood covering the man's head shook. It looked like he'd finally realized who he'd crossed.
"That's right. You've made an enemy of Balkar—"
"So what?"
The man, who'd been gasping in apparent shock a second ago, let out a short, deflated laugh.
"This son of a bitch—grab him!"
"My lady?"
"He stole the auction items, I know he did! Put him on his knees and search him!"
Jaina shrieked. Whether he'd actually stolen anything or not didn't matter. She just needed to see that smug face crumple.
"If you'll excuse me."
The words were polite. The guard's hands were not. He lunged, aiming to shatter the man's shoulder in a single grab—and the man's hand traced a half-circle through the air.
The guard hit the floor with a heavy thud, his arm twisted behind him. The man planted a foot on the guard's head and snorted.
"You just attack without thinking. You sure about this?"
He ground his heel into the man beneath him, his voice low and rough. He glanced around, but no one moved to help. Who in their right mind would pick a fight with Balkar?
"There's no one here who'll help you. I'll prove with my own hands that you're a thief—"
"Raon? Is that you, Raon?!"
She was about to cast a spell when a clear, ringing voice called out from behind her.
"Huh?"
A blond man in splendid formal attire approached the hooded figure.
"Grier?"
Jaina's eyes went wide. Grier de Owen, Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom—someone she'd known since childhood—was walking toward the beggar of a man with a look of genuine delight.
"I knew it! The voice was identical—I was sure it was you!"
"It's been a while."
The man dipped his head as if he and Grier were old acquaintances.
"You know this guy, Grier?"
"Know him? Of course I do!"
Grier nodded vigorously and pointed at the man.
"I told you about him once, remember? That Zieghart has a genuine swordsmanship genius. This is him. Raon Zieghart!"
"Zieg…hart?"
Jaina swallowed hard at the name. Her pupils trembled violently.
"Z-Zieghart?"
"The overlords of the North!"
"Th-then Balkar just picked a fight with Zieghart?"
"Whoa, this is…"
The people who'd been pretending not to watch lit up with interest. Two of the Six Kings colliding—curiosity outweighed fear.
"Tsk."
The man they'd called Raon pulled back his hood. Vivid blond hair. Crimson eyes. The same hair and the same gaze as Glenn, the current head of House Zieghart.
Direct bloodline!
No one but a direct descendant could have that hair and those eyes. She had, quite literally, picked the wrong person.
"Let's see. You told me I didn't know my place. Called me a thief, too. And now you've gone and attacked me first."
Raon's eyes flashed red. A searing aura erupted from beneath his feet and began to devour the space around them—a presence so fierce it was hard to breathe.
"I've been patient enough, don't you think?"
"Th-that's…"
Jaina swallowed. Treating a nameless mercenary one way and a direct descendant of Zieghart another were two entirely different matters.
"Should I take this as Balkar picking a fight with Zieghart?"
"I-I didn't know who you were."
"Insulting and attacking someone you don't even know is even more insane, isn't it? You've got a unique personality."
Raon drew the last words out, dripping with sarcasm.
This bastard…
Rage boiled up from her gut. Even if she'd started it, being mocked in return was more than she could take.
"Ha—so what, you think you can invoke the name of Zieghart?"
Even a direct descendant couldn't casually throw around the family name. He'd have no choice but to back down.
"I can."
"What…"
"I said I can invoke the name of Zieghart."
The man she'd expected to retreat nodded without a shred of hesitation.
"I can challenge you here and now in the name of Zieghart. Can you do the same?"
"B-bullshit!"
Jaina's jaw trembled.
He's lying. He has to be lying!
She wanted to believe it was a bluff, but there wasn't a flicker of doubt in Raon's eyes, and the aura pouring off him crushed everything around them.
Come to think of it…
Grier had once said this Raon had such extraordinary talent and swordsmanship that he might one day become the head of House Zieghart. And the fact that he was wandering around like this meant he'd already been named a swordsman of the house. He looked young. To have earned that title at his age meant he commanded considerable standing.
"Trying to overpower a Zieghart swordsman by force and branding him a thief—that's a bigger deal than you seem to realize."
"Ugh…"
Jaina bit her lip.
"I'll give you one last chance. Apologize. Beg for forgiveness right here, and I'll let it go. Refuse, and I'll pay Balkar a visit myself."
Raon's voice dropped, heavy and cold. It felt like her lungs were being crushed. The presence rolling off him made it hard to believe he was actually younger than Grier.
"W-wait, just let me think—"
"I'll give you five seconds. Five. Four."
He started counting, leaving her no room to stall. His presence, his eyes, the way he owned the situation—none of it was ordinary. A man like this wouldn't lie.
Damn it…
She looked around. The auction staff, the guests—every last one of them was watching. Taking off her mask had been a mistake. The thought crashed over her.
"Three. Two. One."
"I-I'm sorry."
The instant Raon said "one," she blurted out an apology. His expression didn't soften.
"Who begs for forgiveness in that tone?"
"…I-I'm sorry."
Jaina clenched her teeth and offered the apology properly.
"Who apologizes with their head held high?"
"You really…"
"Do it."
At Raon's command, Jaina trembled, then bowed her head.
"I-I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Hnn…"
She wanted nothing more than to stand up and blast him with magic, but she held it in. She'd come this far. She couldn't ruin everything now.
"F-for picking a fight at the auction house and the casino, and for accusing you of being a thief. I'm truly… sorry."
Silence. Jaina slowly lifted her head and met Raon's eyes. His gaze was as cold as the North Sea, and a chill ran down her spine.
"I have no interest in making this bigger than it needs to be. We'll leave it here."
"Ah…"
"If you don't want to disgrace your kingdom, watch your mouth from now on."
He made a dismissive little gesture, as if she weren't worth the trouble, and walked out of the casino. Grier frowned at Jaina, then followed after Raon.
Jaina's silence hung in the air. Everyone in the auction house held their breath, hands over their mouths.
"Manager."
"Y-yes, my lady!"
The auction house manager, who'd been waiting at the bottom of the stairs, came running like a dog with its tail on fire.
"Did the VIP floor security sensors go off at any point today?"
"N-no, they didn't."
"Where's the control room?"
"Th-this way, please."
The manager bent himself nearly in half and led Jaina to the control room.
"Bring me every mana-stone sensor log and every security record!"
Jaina smashed a table in the control room and screamed.
It's there. It has to be.
She'd been forced to eat crow, but if she could just find proof that he'd stolen those items, she could turn this around. She would find the evidence, no matter what, and pay him back several times over.
"Check everything down to the last ant! Don't miss a single thing!"
But even as her guards and the auction staff searched until their eyes nearly fell out, Raon's figure never appeared anywhere he shouldn't have been. The only footage of him showed him going into the restroom and coming back out.
"That's impossible…"
Jaina's jaw trembled as she sank to the floor. Her instincts almost never failed her. She'd been certain Raon was the thief—and yet not a shred of evidence had turned up.
The uneasy feeling, the way his subordinate had reacted, the timing of his return right as the auction ended—all of it pointed to Raon stealing those items. But she had no proof. If she accused him again without evidence, the backlash would be real this time.
Jaina ground her teeth and stamped her foot.
"Who the hell is that bastard?!"