The Blacksmith Hides His Identity

The prayer Llywelyn recited every morning during her mission school days in England went like this:

Even her friends, who were usually mischievous, would fall completely silent whenever they recited it. Even in this modern age, elementary schools still saw the occasional social misfit asking why women had to protect men. Of course, those were the words of children who didn't know any better. Students at England's top schools had already accepted the mission long ago.

Men. Fragile, gentle, easily wounded beings. That was precisely why they were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so precious and lovable. It was a woman's duty to shield these delicate men from death or injury, to provide for them and keep them safe. The reason women were born strong was simple: to protect men and make them happy. To defend them from the women who would do them harm.

So women felt joy as they accumulated mana within themselves and climbed the realms. This power will let me make men even happier. It will let me protect my future husband even better. That sense of pride swelled alongside their protective instincts and affection. Protecting men was both an honor and the very meaning of life. The methods and viewpoints might differ, but at heart, everyone felt the same.

Llywelyn pursued that pure mission of male protection more sincerely than most. She often dreamed of one day saving a man in danger with her own two hands and smiling as if it were nothing at all.

"Ah... Ah......?"

Llywelyn stared at the horrific scene before her. A man had collapsed. He clutched his side, letting out pitiful groans. His fragile body trembled like a frightened deer. Black darkness swam in his eyes. Those sad, servile eyes quivered weakly, tears pooling as if begging not to be struck, rolling down his cheeks.

"Ah... No. I-I... I didn't..."

Llywelyn stammered, as if trying to deny reality itself. But her excuses were cut short as the man collapsed completely, no longer moving. It was as if his breath had been severed.

"Uh... Uhh.... Ah.... Ahuh....?"

Llywelyn looked down at her own two hands. Just moments ago, she had tried to destroy that fragile existence. An evil woman. The ugliness of harming a man. The malice that had trampled a lovely being who should have been protected was right here.

"Ah...... Aah."

Llywelyn clutched at her hair in distress.

"Gah... Uh.... Uh... Ah... Ah....?"

Confusion. Delirium. Contradiction.

Thud.

Llywelyn's legs shook violently before giving out. She sank to the ground, staring blankly at Yoo Ji-tae before covering her mouth and retching. After vomiting clear gastric fluid, she barely managed to collect herself.

...What the hell have I done? No. No. Hermes is a woman. There's no way he's a man....

With both doubt and desperate hope, Llywelyn looked straight ahead. There lay the corpse of a dead man. The body of the man she herself had killed.

"Ah... AAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAAA!!! AAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Crack!

Llywelyn's mind shattered.

Several minutes passed. The recovery ability of a Heaven and Earth Realm peak refused to let its owner escape through mental collapse. When Llywelyn regained her senses, she looked at Yoo Ji-tae once more. He still wasn't moving.

"Ah... Ahuh.... Ah, no. No...."

Sniffling, Llywelyn crawled forward on all fours. Guilt clung to her trembling hands. Even the act of touching him felt like a sin, making her movements hesitant and slow.

"I-I'm sorry..... Please, I'll do anything, just please wake up. Please don't die..... If you die—if I kill a man—I'll be completely ruined...."

Only then did Llywelyn truly look at Yoo Ji-tae's face.

Yoo Ji-tae. Yes. I remember. The plunder marriage at Samjin Ga—I saw the broadcast. So this person was Hermes.

Steadying her breath, Llywelyn unbuttoned his shirt. She needed to check his wounds first. Her breath caught. His body was in far worse condition than she had imagined. A large black scar dominated his chest, and from it spread meticulously crafted scars like a web of agony. The traces of meticulously cruel malice were engraved into his flesh.

Llywelyn's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind went pure white.

"Uhhhh..."

With violently shaking hands, she traced each scar one by one. Only then did she recall that Yoo Ji-tae was a man from the Femi District.

A man from the Femi District. It was a ghost story that had circulated since her childhood. In civilized nations, semen supplied to the Femi District was treated to prevent male births. It was common knowledge that no men were ever born there. Yet at some point, this horror story began to spread: deep within the Femi District, in places beyond anyone's sight, abused men were hidden away. Those men had their human rights stripped by women and were permitted only endless suffering.

Investigation teams from various countries had searched multiple times, mindful of public opinion, but found no evidence. So it was dismissed as mere urban legend. But not long ago, a victim had appeared. The victim who had endured tears and agony in the shadows of society was right before her eyes.

Llywelyn's eyes lost their light. As if mourning the soul of the deceased, she began to murmur.

"...You must have been so lonely."

Yet after escaping and learning about the world, you must have dreamed of an ordinary life.

"It must have been terrifying...."

Women must have looked like monsters to him.

"It must have been so painful.... And yet."

Llywelyn's throat tightened. A choking sound escaped her.

I ruined this person's life.

Hot tears rolled down Llywelyn's cheeks and fell onto Yoo Ji-tae's body.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry.... S-sorry...."

Llywelyn pulled a baseball-sized iron orb from her pocket.

Kiiiiing!!!

The iron orb spun with a piercing whine.

"I'll die... In the afterlife... I'll atone...."

As if trying to act cute, Llywelyn lifted the corners of her mouth in a broken smile.

"I'll die... In the afterlife... I'll atone...."

...What the hell do I do?

I was completely flustered.

This wasn't part of the plan....

I quickly reviewed the situation. Llywelyn had kicked me, forcing the Kynee Replica off. Since men were treated as superior, I'd hoped she might actually talk to me. But that hope was shattered instantly. She just stared at me blankly and started muttering. Sensing something had gone wrong, I held my breath and played dead—only for her to fall into a full panic, collapse, crawl over on all fours, sob uncontrollably, and then pull out that iron orb. And what she said next was...

"I'll die... In the afterlife... A-atone...."

My brain couldn't keep up. I cracked my eyes open slightly. She was pressing the high-speed rotating orb toward her own head.

...She's genuinely lost her mind.

It wasn't an exaggeration. At Heaven and Earth Realm peak, she should have instantly noticed I was faking. Yet she remained oblivious, fully committed to suicide. Her panic ran that deep.

...What do I do?

If I did nothing, Llywelyn would kill herself. Kiiiiing!!! The orb spun so fast it sounded like it could grind flesh to paste on contact. It reminded me of the machining tools I'd seen in Chirnix's workshop. A milling machine felt exactly like this—high-speed steel that destroyed anything it touched by shaving it away. If that thing hit her head, it would pulverize her.

...But what happens if I suddenly "wake up" after pretending to be dead?

Under normal circumstances, she'd probably be overjoyed and apologize profusely. But Llywelyn wasn't normal right now. You couldn't expect normal behavior from someone in this state.

...What do I do?

Honestly, I was scared. I remembered how she'd blown away the upper body of that giant woman earlier with a single kick to a tiny iron ball. That leg strength could tear me apart like paper if she acted on impulse.

I opened my eyes a little wider. The viciously spinning orb was moving toward her head.

...If Llywelyn killed herself here, it would be my fault.

......Time to "wake up."

Admitting I'd been watching her reaction the whole time would be too hard to clean up afterward.

"...Cough, cough."

The iron orb stopped spinning instantly. Llywelyn pressed her ear to my chest, then broke into a radiant smile.

"H-he's alive!!"

I sat up as if I'd just regained consciousness and straightened my shirt.

"Ah. Um. Yes."

Only then did I get a proper look at Llywelyn's face. It was a complete mess. Snot ran freely from her nose, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from rubbing them raw. Yet she still kept her knees politely together, maintaining perfect posture.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea Hermes was actually Mr. Yoo Ji-tae... So. I was just trying to give you a light tap. It wasn't like I was really trying to hit a man or anything... I..... Ugh...."

Her words were incoherent, tumbling out without order. Llywelyn clutched her chest and kept sobbing.

I took a deep breath. Maybe I should tell her to reflect on everything she'd done so far?

"Ugh... Ugh... Uh... Uugh...."

No. That would probably make her actually kill herself. I glanced at the magic drone floating behind us. Even now, 1.4 million viewers worldwide were waiting for the outcome of our fight. The only one who could clean this up was Llywelyn, with her experience and the courage to speak in front of everyone.

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and gently wiped her tears.

"Please don't cry. You'll ruin that pretty face."

"......Yes."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Don't call someone an angel for something this small.

After wiping away her tears, I offered a small smile.

"Can you handle wrapping up the conclusion of this PK?"

Llywelyn nodded with firm resolve.

"I will take care of everything."

...Well, I guess that settles it.

If we just brushed this match off as if it never happened, I wouldn't have to deal with any more annoying fallout. Honestly, drawing the eyes of the entire world was the worst possible outcome for someone who needed to keep his identity hidden.

The Alchemist community—the internet hub of the Alchemy Association—was currently in total chaos. Protest posts about the interrupted duel between Hermes and Llywelyn flooded the boards in real time.

One female alchemist who had been watching both the community and Llywelyn's stream felt the same way. Ten minutes later...

The female alchemist immediately clicked the link.

"Argh!!!!"

The alchemist slammed her desk and refreshed the board again, hoping for new information. Then a post from Llywelyn herself appeared.

"...Is this really Llywelyn?"

The female alchemist's jaw dropped.

"Since when is she this polite....."

The comment section reacted similarly.

More and more question marks flooded the replies.

Soon the message [The live is up!!!!!] appeared, and the female alchemist clicked in immediately. This time it was real. On screen stood Llywelyn and Hermes side by side. Llywelyn's eyes were horribly swollen from crying, yet the corners of her mouth were lifted in an expression of pure bliss. Hermes was the complete opposite. Even with his hat casting shadows over his face, his complexion looked terrible. He avoided the camera entirely, inching away from Llywelyn little by little.

Llywelyn clasped her hands together and spoke.

With a bright, sunny smile, Llywelyn uttered words she would never normally say. The chat, which had been scrolling nonstop, froze for several seconds. Viewers watching the stream, and even Hermes standing beside her, all stared at Llywelyn as if to ask what the hell she was saying.

The chat exploded.

Llywelyn continued with a bright expression.

Donations poured in urgently.

Llywelyn answered cheerfully.

With her second statement, the chat descended into pure pandemonium.

Yoo Ji-tae felt his sanity slowly melting away as he watched the endless flood of messages and Llywelyn's unhinged declarations. He had never enjoyed being the center of attention. If anything, it made him uncomfortable.

He forced a smile as he spoke. At that moment, Yoo Ji-tae crossed a river from which there was no return. There were two reasons.

The first was that he didn't understand the internet's natural inclination to rebel. Strong people get torn down, weak people get lifted up. There were always those who enjoyed raising someone up like a champion just to watch them squirm, even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when the person begged them to stop. And the worst part about those people was that the more the victim panicked and pleaded, the more excited they became and the harder they pushed.

The second reason was that Yoo Ji-tae had misunderstood the Kynee Replica's abilities. The artifact hid his gender, making others perceive him as female. However, it did nothing to conceal the impression or aura a man naturally gave off. In other words, the women watching him didn't know he was male, yet they subconsciously felt the masculine presence he gave off—the very same protective urge and sense of endearment women typically felt toward men.

The moment the pale-faced Hermes flailed his hands and spoke in that tone—

If an ordinary adult woman had spoken that way, it would have seemed pathetic. But with Hermes, it was different. A tingling sensation rose from within, sending chills down the spine. Their hearts pounded against their ribcages. Before they knew it, the women were pressing their thighs together. One woman who had been staring blankly at the tearful Hermes muttered without thinking.

"...He's actually really cute."

The alchemist who had covered her own mouth belatedly began searching for information about Hermes. Who was he? Which school did he attend? What was his real name? She wanted to know everything. She opened the great repository of knowledge—Namu Wiki. Only then did she realize what was happening.

Real-time trending searches:

1. Hermes

2. Nobel Prize in Alchemy

3. Llywelyn

4. Daejeon Metropolitan City

5. High school graduate

Something enormous is unfolding....?

And so, the superstar who drove both fans and haters insane—Lord Hermes himself—revealed his presence to the world.