The Famous Restaurant

A few days later, having collected their compensation from the lord, the Mok father and daughter finished packing and made ready to leave.

"This dojo, Evan — I leave it to you."

"Pardon? It's a bit large for me to manage alone."

"Hire some help, then. You're earning plenty as it is…"

"Well… fair enough."

Mok Cheon gazed at his dojo with a distant look in his eyes, then let out a soft sigh and turned away — as if lingering any longer would only breed attachment he could not afford.

Watching him, Mok Yeon-hwa let out a quiet snort of laughter and came over to me.

"Evan. Take good care of the dojo for us."

"Master…"

"Next time we meet, I'll be so beautiful you'll fall for me on the spot. Don't be too shocked, all right?"

"You're already beautiful enough as it is."

"Ahaha — thanks!"

In just a few short days, Mok Yeon-hwa's hair had grown out noticeably, settling into a bob that brushed her shoulders. With the back of her head no longer cropped bare like a boy's, she had become a beauty well worth a second look.

The kind of beauty that made it entirely understandable why those thugs had targeted her. For a fleeting moment I even wondered whether I ought to go after her and ask her to take me on as her disciple again — and in that instant, Mok Yeon-hwa stepped carefully closer and leaned in toward my cheek.

Smooch.

"—!?"

"Ehehe. That's my thanks for everything you did. Ah — not enough?"

"N-no. I mean, not enough — wait, no! It's plenty!"

"Hehe. If you ever miss us, come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠find the Mukhyang Trading Company."

"…Are you giving up the sword entirely, then?"

"—Huh? No? Did I not mention that?"

Mok Yeon-hwa scratched her cheek as she spoke.

"My mother's the head of that company, you see. We've spent everything we brought with us, so I'll have to work under her for a while."

"Eh. Master Mok was rich?"

"Not Father — Mother. Aigoo… she's going to raise absolute hell when she sees us like this."

"—Yeon-hwa! Are you quite finished yet!"

"Yes, yes, coming, Father!"

At Mok Cheon's prodding, Mok Yeon-hwa gave me a wry, helpless smile.

"—See you next time, Sword Saint."

"Take care."

And so the Mok father and daughter left the city. I watched the two of them recede into the distance, then turned and stepped back inside the dojo.

The polished wooden floor still gleamed from a final thorough cleaning. Studying that floor for a long moment, I took a wooden practice sword down from the wall and stood in the center of the hall.

The dojo was vast — large enough for dozens, perhaps even hundreds, to train at once. I found myself thinking I might not need the guild's private training grounds at all; swinging a sword here would more than suffice.

"Not completely useless, then…"

It was a gift from my master. I could hardly neglect it or sell it off — and if it had turned out to serve no purpose whatsoever, that would have been a real headache.

Fortunately, as a former sword hall, the place offered several excellent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conditions for solitary sword training.

I swung the blade in silence.

A sword that by now made no sound at all.

—!

The foundation of Cheonbong-ryu is deflection…

Master Mok Cheon had explained Cheonbong-ryu as a counterattacking style — wait for the enemy's strike, deflect it, and strike in the same motion, offense and defense completed as one.

I did not see it that way. Having grasped the ultimate secret of the art — Heavenly Seamless, the power to deflect everything that touched the blade — I considered this the most aggressively offensive swordsmanship of all.

Deflect everything that touches it.

This was a Demon Blade.

A secret art on the same level as the other Demon Blades I had already mastered.

Among them, it belonged to the sort that demanded real thought to attain.

Who in their right mind tries to do this with a sword?

Shields exist for a reason, yet someone had insisted on making a sword perform a shield's work. Greedy. That deep, lingering greed had finally forged a single Demon Blade into being.

And the Demon Blade born of that greed — the one that deflected all things —

"Ah."

It deflected even the flow of air that touched the blade, and went further still, refracting space itself. It took the space that met the edge and deflected it into a bend.

I had once asked Mok Yeon-hwa a question.

Could it deflect magic? A dragon's breath? Even a meteor falling from the sky?

In this moment, I was certain — it could deflect those as well.

"…Maybe just once."

The next instant, a colossal explosion tore through the dojo.

"—Debris clearance and reconstruction, plus magical reinforcement treatment and so on… that comes to three hundred and fifty thousand Elso!"

"…Here."

"Thank you, valued customer!"

The architect who had raced down from the Royal Capital beamed as he accepted the check Evan handed over. Evan watched him go with tears welling in his eyes, then turned to look at the dojo — now restored to perfect condition.

The building he had blown apart experimenting with a Demon Blade stood whole again — no, better than whole. Better than it had ever been.

"…It won't break this time, right?"

"—Well, if a superhuman of the Sword Saint's caliber set out to destroy it deliberately, it could be smashed whenever he pleased! But it will absolutely never come apart from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the aftershocks of ordinary training!"

"Mind if I test that?"

"Of course!"

At the architect's word, Evan immediately took up a sword and strode into the dojo. The architect swallowed hard.

He had answered with confidence — but whether the place would truly hold, he had no idea. Just look at the state the dojo had been in. It had looked as though someone had run a large-scale magical experiment in there.

If it shattered the same way again… not only would there be a refund to issue, the man might well decide he'd been made a fool of and take his head for it.

P-please…

Whether the architect's prayer reached the heavens or not, the next moment a thunderous BOOM shook the dojo, and the whole structure began to tremble.

It rattled for a long while before the vibrations finally died down. Then Evan emerged from within, casually brushing the dust from his coat.

"Still standing. And that ventilation magic is nice, too."

"Ah — ahahaha! R-right? We didn't become the Royal Capital's finest architects for nothing!"

The architect exhaled a long breath of relief at the intact building. He bowed to Evan, told him to get in touch if any problems arose, and vanished at once.

Watching the architect disappear into the distance, Evan belatedly registered that the contents of his bank account had vanished right along with him.

He had been trying not to look at it. He could no longer look away.

I worked so hard to save that up…

The funds he had been setting aside separately while paying off his debts had evaporated in an instant. Once again he was reminded that money was hard to gather and absurdly easy to spend — gone like water through open fingers.

What am I doing standing around? I should get to work. Evan heaved a deep sigh and trudged listlessly toward the Adventurer Guild. He hadn't taken a job in over a month; requests were surely piled high by now…

"Um — excuse me! Are you the Sword Saint!?"

"Huh? Ah, yes."

"I'm a fan! Please, take this!"

"…Thank you?"

On the way to the guild, a woman on the street suddenly pressed a cookie into his hands. Evan stared at it in bewilderment, then tucked it into his coat and kept walking.

But people kept blocking his path. Mostly women — though every so often a young boy would cling to him as well, proudly declaring himself a fan.

"Do you think I could become like you someday, Sword Saint!?"

"Hmm… if you keep at it steadily. Probably."

"Woooooah—!"

Evan had always drawn a fair amount of attention, but never anything like this. Feeling distinctly unsettled by a level of interest he had never experienced in his life, he tilted his head, wondering what on earth had gotten into everyone.

He found out the reason only after he arrived at the guild.

Inside, in one corner of the tavern that served as the adventurers' lounge, a bard in a peculiar hat was singing a tale.

"Is he still that young? How do you turn a woman down like that?"

"Hey, hey — you think the Sword Saint is short on women? He can afford to kick one or two beauties to the curb."

"If it were me, I'd be swapping girls out every single day."

"And that's exactly why you'll never be the Sword Saint."

Evan shot the bard a sidelong glare, then headed straight for Rebecca.

Spotting him, Rebecca lit up with a bright smile and came forward to greet him.

"Ah, Evan. It's been a whi—"

"That. Who authorized it?"

"Pardon? Ah — the performance? I'm quite sure he received permission…"

"From whom?"

"Have you… not heard anything about this…?"

When Evan shook his head, Rebecca's expression turned grave. At a loss, she immediately hurried over to the bard.

After a hurried exchange in the middle of the performance, the bard's face stiffened slightly. Then he approached Evan.

"—A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sword Saint. I am Harvest, of the Royal Capital Music Troupe."

"And?"

"I have been informed. You received no word whatsoever regarding the performance."

"Yes. Whose permission did you get to go around singing my story?"

"A bard needs no one's permission ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to sing… but quite apart from that, I was certain you already knew. And for good reason—"

As he spoke, the bard drew a sheet of paper from his coat. It was a royal decree, stamped with the king's own seal.

"—because the one who commanded me to sing was His Majesty the Blue King himself."

"…The King?"

Evan's brow furrowed slightly.

The decree was genuine.

Which meant that unless the bard standing before him had a death wish large enough to have already burst — his words were the truth.