There Have Always Been Two Swords - 6
If I had to sum up my reunion with Frach in a single phrase, it would be an empty shell of a snack—all crunch, no filling.
The moment our eyes first met, I have to admit—bruising as it is to my pride—I felt a genuine flutter of excitement.
Among all the women I had met so far, none had given off that older-sister vibe except Breeze.
And even with Breeze, she had been a widow, so any approach came with a side of guilty thrills I had to swallow.
More than that, she never felt like the one taking the lead.
Frach’s appearance, on the other hand, radiated dominance.
That funky, uniquely cheerful look of hers stirred something deep in a man’s heart.
The kind of woman who would scold you for leaning on her back yet still pull you into a warm embrace afterward.
If she had fans, they would have come in droves regardless of gender.
Knowing that such a captivating woman was mine to claim left me strangely giddy.
But that warm glow of appreciation lasted only a moment.
Volmond’s hammer cracked down on Frach’s head, shattering the illusion completely.
A lump rose on her skull as she was dragged off by her “father,” still complaining that the modifications weren’t finished yet.
In the span of a heartbeat she plummeted from cool big-sister to rowdy little tomboy, and the flutter in my chest died on the spot.
Frach was still Frach, after all.
Whatever the case, meeting the complete Frach was going to take more time.
There still seemed to be plenty left to remodel.
I left her in Volmond’s care and stepped out of the forge.
I had accomplished my goal of checking on the work’s progress.
And since I had even gotten a look at Frach herself, there was no reason to linger any longer.
I headed out into the street and turned my steps toward the lodging that had been assigned to us.
Today, once again, Rene and the Lin siblings were nowhere to be found.
What were they plotting somewhere I couldn’t see?
Curiosity pricked at me, but I let it slide this time.
Sometimes not knowing only heightens the anticipation.
Besides, I wasn’t their guardian. As long as no NTR vibes started creeping in, I had no particular desire to keep them on a leash.
“Hyung.”
“Hm? What’s this? Weren’t you supposed to be tagging along with your sister?”
“I was, originally. But the atmosphere between those two felt off. Figured I’d only get in the way if I stuck around.”
“……That so?”
“You’re not even going to ask what the sisters are up to?”
“Doesn’t seem like they’d tell me even if I did.”
“Man, your instincts really are something else, Bern-hyung.”
I shrugged.
Bern’s greatest flaw—the one crack in an otherwise perfect package—was his complete lack of social radar.
If the original Bern had been the sort who could read a room and make the right call, he never would have barreled straight into a bad ending.
A stubborn personality is one thing, but without even a shred of intuition to go with it, that was the fatal flaw.
“So you called me over just to dangle a mystery in front of me?”
“Nah. I called you for something else.”
“What is it?”
“There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a girlfriend among the dwarves?”
“As if. I’d rather die clean and get buried in the ground than end up as somebody’s weapon.”
“So you already knew about dwarf customs……”
He could have told me when I first asked about the dwarves.
If he had, I never would have attended that funeral.
“So who’s this person you want me to meet?”
“Just follow me.”
Had he made a friend his own age while I was busy with other things?
Outwardly he looked like a kid, but the soul inside was a centuries-old man, so the idea of him bonding with an actual child felt unlikely.
And given his appearance, befriending some dwarf uncle didn’t seem much more plausible either.
Curiosity about whoever Rewen wanted to introduce burned bright enough that I fell in step behind him.
An alley still littered with unrepaired rubble.
Following the dim path all the way down brought a single building into view.
It looked exactly like the saloons that always show up in Westerns.
I pushed open the swinging cowboy doors and stepped inside. Instead of tables, oak barrels were scattered everywhere, and dwarves sat perched on smaller barrels, sipping their drinks.
“This way!”
Even after we entered the tavern, Rewen’s steps never slowed.
He strode past the counter where the bartender stood and yanked open the door behind it.
Was it really okay to barge in like that?
I worried, yet no one stopped him or even raised a word of protest.
I slipped through the doorway after him, a little awkwardly, and the sharp scent of leather—something you never smelled out in the tavern—hit my nose.
Inside, Rewen was already standing beside a dwarf whose pure-white beard cascaded all the way to his waist.
Judging by looks alone, the image of a classic fantasy-movie dwarf sage sprang to mind unbidden.
But the various tanning tools stuffed into the pockets of his leather apron made it clear he was no sage—he was a leatherworker, without a doubt.
“Rewen, is this the young man you wanted to introduce?”
“That’s right.”
“Hahaha! A strapping lad with a solid frame, I see.”
I had thought I was something of a local celebrity in the dwarf village by now, but apparently not every dwarf knew who I was.
His frank, unfiltered reaction was proof enough.
“Hyung, let me introduce you. This is Master Chester—the finest leatherworker among the dwarves.”
“Ah—hello.”
“Welcome to my workshop, human boy.”
Clap, clap!
Master Chester clapped twice, and the bartender from behind the door appeared with three teacups arranged on a tray.
So this place was both a tavern and Chester’s workshop.
An unusual setup, yet it carried a certain romantic charm—the hidden atelier of a true craftsman.
“Rewen, so why exactly did you bring me to meet Master Chester?”
“Your clothes and gear are in tatters. I figured it was high time you got a whole new set, so I brought you here.”
He wasn’t wrong. The leather outfit I was wearing had been reduced to rags in more places than I could count.
Claw marks, scorch marks, gashes from ice spears—the list went on.
I had fought countless enemies and never once replaced my ruined armor.
I’ve been living pretty carelessly, haven’t I……
Gaining a troll’s regenerative power had lowered my reliance on armor, but that didn’t mean I no longer needed it.
I was still human. I felt cold and heat, and injuries severe enough to sever an arm were hard to endure even with pain resistance.
“I appreciate it, but you could’ve just told me the purpose from the start, you know?”
“Keeping it secret until the very end is more fun. Besides, there’s another reason I dragged you all the way here.”
“Which is?”
“Aren’t you curious how a little kid like me managed to get so chummy with a warm, friendly uncle like this in just a few days?”
“Okay, yeah—that does make me a little curious.”
Even for someone as sociable as Rewen, befriending a dwarf uncle at an age when he couldn’t even drink wouldn’t have been easy.
Getting into a tavern on the village outskirts was one thing; gaining access to a hidden workshop inside it was another entirely.
The fact that he had grown close to Master Chester anyway suggested some prior connection between the two of them from before the regression.
The catch was that the whole theory only held if Rewen had revealed he was a regressor and Chester had accepted that truth.
“The reason’s simple. Master Chester is the Sage of Truth.”
So he didn’t just look the part—he really was a sage on the inside too.
Did that mean a great being like the Sage of Truth also moonlighted as a leatherworker?
I stared at Master Chester with wide eyes.
A sage who had withdrawn from the chaos of the world to live in seclusion in a village—it actually made perfect sense.
“If you’re the Sage of Truth, does that mean you’ve grasped every principle under heaven?”
“Hahaha! Not quite that far. Neither I nor anyone else in this world has ever reached the truth. The world is a well, and every last one of us is a frog living inside it. I’m merely the frog who managed to climb a little higher up the inner wall than the rest.”
Master Chester stroked his beard, the picture of humility.
Here was a sage who could command the utmost respect wherever he went, yet he assessed himself with clear eyes and deliberately lowered his own standing.
At the same time, every word he spoke carried a heavy, undeniable weight.
“So the title ‘Sage of Truth’ is more than I deserve, really. I’m just an old man who works with leather. Hahaha!”
“You say that, but the way you’ve been looking at me since earlier feels like you’re seeing straight through to my core.”
“Sharp senses on this one. If it made you uncomfortable, I apologize. It’s an innate ability—activates just from looking at someone.”
Master Chester slowly closed his right eye.
The subtle spatial ripples that had been clinging to various parts of his body vanished at once.
From the way he described it, this was one of his unique abilities.
“It doesn’t harm the other person, so no need to worry. All it does is tell me what sort of person they are and the exact measurements of their body.”
He pulled a pen and ink from a pocket of his apron and began sketching on a sheet of white parchment.
He drew a human figure with startling speed, jotting numbers all over it as he went.
At first I had no idea what he was up to. Then I looked at the numbers written across the body on the page and finally understood.
The figure on that diagram was me.
The height listed in the setting book for Bern matched the measurement on the drawing down to the last digit.
“You really did look me over right down to the bone, didn’t you?”
“It was preliminary research before the work begins. I hope you’ll forgive me. If I’m going to replace everything from head to toe, I need the client’s measurements to be perfect.”
Finished with the sketch, Master Chester drew a knife and began cutting into a length of high-quality leather.
His handiwork was nothing short of miraculous.
But there was one critical point that still needed addressing.
“I never actually said I wanted new clothes made. And I haven’t paid anything, either……”
“The commission and the fee have already been settled in full by Rewen.”
“Excuse me? Where would a kid get that kind of money……”
“Hahaha! You’ve got a talent for funny jokes.”
“Hyung, you already know who I am. Why are you doing this……”
Rewen slapped a palm to his forehead and covered his face.
I had only been holding the information back just in case, but apparently that had been enough to mortify him.
“So you told him you’re a regressor.”
“I didn’t tell him.”
“Huh?”
“I saw it the instant I laid eyes on him. A lantern radiating warm, clear light—yet the wick of years hidden inside was as thick as my own. Even now, thinking back on it, it was a truly wondrous sight.”
“Th-then…… what about me?”
“Hmm……”
Master Chester, who had been working with easy composure, suddenly began sweating in fat beads.
Embarrassment clouded his expression.
Was a possession case somehow harder to describe?
“It would be better if you didn’t hear this. But if you insist, I’ll tell you.”
“Yes. Please—I want to hear it!”
“……A beautiful, thin veil.”
“Ohh!”
I had felt the same when he described Rewen’s nature—his way with words carried real poetic weight.
It was pleasant enough to soothe the ear.
And my description had started with a beautiful veil. Already I was looking forward to whatever came next.
“I lifted the veil and peered inside…… and found nothing but an abyss black as lacquer.”
“Wha…?”
This was discrimination.