By Zephyria 
The third Monday of October, midday.
The sun was so intensely high that all shadows had fled, not a span of them visible.
The sound of hooves striking the dirt road followed the group’s rear sluggishly.
The cities along the route from the Widdrow Duchy to the capital city of Bardiol were generally well-paved. Even if they weren’t large cities, one could often see grand buildings, and I saw many people dressed in clothes that suggested wealth.
However, the landscape on the road from Bardiol towards the Shatun Desert was the complete opposite. The buildings were shorter, and the people’s attire was simple. The wind blowing from the desert carried with it pale, fine sand. Dust settled softly and equally on round rooftops and street stalls.
Perhaps it was because we were traveling by horse rather than carriage, or perhaps it was due to the intermittent dusty winds. Or maybe it was because a handful of strangers were mixed into the group. I had, for the longest time, postponed giving an explanation that wasn’t really an explanation.
It had been over a decade since I last spoke of my past life. There was nothing grand enough to boast about, but I also had no desire to act spoiled towards these young children.
Most importantly, I didn’t know what to say, or if such an explanation was even necessary, so I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
Instead, it was mostly the mercenaries who did the talking.
All five mercenaries were quick-witted and quick-handed. They skillfully distinguished between what should and shouldn’t be said, and they preferred to share their own stories rather than inquire about ours. Listening quietly, we found many of their tales to be amusing and interesting, so the children all listened intently.
Thanks to them, I learned that the White Lion Mercenary Group was an organization that formed and dispersed around three captains. Their total number was nineteen, and they selected volunteers for each mission, allowing them to operate in multiple locations simultaneously.
“Why bother?”
“Well, reputation is important for mercenaries.”
John, who was about my height but three times as broad, spoke in a humming tone.
On either side of the chain around his neck hung a metal weight the size of a human head. Having encountered mostly nobles and knights since arriving in this land, it had been a long time since I last saw a proper morning star. A blow from that blunt, spiked mace would surely incapacitate most monsters.
Though I had been told to speak casually, I trailed off, feeling awkward because he seemed to be waiting for me to chime in.
“Reputation, you say…”
“Usually, mercenaries work for a couple of months and then rest for a couple of months, or work for half a year and rest for half a year. But people can’t always live putting in their maximum effort. In monster-infested areas, you can’t even sleep properly or eat properly, can you? If you lived your whole life just earning money like that, you’d die before thirty.”
“…Well, …that’s true.”
…I had been like that too.
Even while enduring hardships like sleeping outdoors to hunt down evildoers, didn’t I return to Anhui for a couple of months each year? I would eat, sleep, and train in the room provided at the Namgung Family’s main hall, watch the training of the Sajils, and boast about my deeds to my cousins…
If I hadn’t had those times of laughter and revelry, what would have happened? I don’t know for sure, but I couldn’t have dedicated my entire life to chasing the Evil Sect. It was because I had received so much affection from the Namgung Family that I could live my whole life upholding their name.
John let out a sigh and continued.
“But people in the cities usually don’t understand that. If they rest for even a month, they’ll say, ‘Those lazy mercenaries won’t be able to get the job done!’ They don’t realize people aren’t magic golems.”
“…Ah.”
“So, they gather the guys they know, pick and choose, and send out missions with only those who have rested enough to be able to move. They still call themselves the White Lion Mercenary Group.”
“…Is that allowed?”
“What’s not allowed about it? After all, people don’t come here remembering everyone’s faces and names. They just see that the White Lion Mercenary Group is constantly working and has a reputation for reliability.”
Is that so?
Indeed, I had heard stories about the White Lion Mercenary Group… here and there. While their current ages were around twenty, hadn’t their fame endured for decades? They couldn’t be called a group that simply gathered around one leader.
I suddenly thought of a face I used to dislike seeing often, but now missed.
“Then you wouldn’t know Mage Boulder either.”
“Mage Boulder?”
“He was very proud of having ascended the Yuil Mountains with the White Lion Mercenary Group. A rather gruff-looking wizard…”
“Ugh!”
Four out of the five mercenaries scowled simultaneously.
Not only John, who was talking to me, but even Leon, who was leading the way ahead, turned back with a chuckle, looking surprised. What on earth had he done to make them all react like this? I suppressed a laugh with a cough.
Giselle, who was nearby, quickly joined the conversation.
“Ah, that talkative wizard? All five of us here know him. We went together.”
“What did he do?”
“Oh, he wasn’t a bad person. He just tried to haggle the price down a lot, was stingy, and talked too much. In the Yuil Mountains after sunset, even a small voice needs to be cautious… It caused us quite a bit of trouble.”
“Ah.”
Finally, I gave up holding back and let out a hearty laugh.
Ann, who had turned her horse around and was sitting backward on it, joined the conversation.
“Still, wasn’t it a bit cute how he was moved every time he discovered something?”
“As I often say, Ann, your taste is a bit dangerous.”
“Just say it’s strange.”
“No, it’s genuinely, truly dangerous. If you get involved with someone who doesn’t care about their own safety, it can lead to big trouble. Don’t you remember Mage Boulder eating dirt because he wanted to embrace contaminated mana?”
“Ahaha! That was really funny!”
“Mage Boulder ate dirt?”
“Did he only eat dirt? One day, he said he wanted to hug a tree while sleeping…”
As Marianne joined the conversation, the laughter grew louder.
Giselle and John talked about Mage Boulder for a long time, and then they started recounting a story about taking an eighty-year-old man on a pilgrimage. The old man insisted on walking himself, saying it wouldn’t be a pilgrimage if he let them carry him, even though they pleaded to let them carry him. In the end, he completed the journey.
It was a funny and impressive story, but for some reason, my chest felt tight as I listened.
‘You shouldn’t get involved with someone who doesn’t care about their own safety.’
… ‘It was nice to see the old man happy.’
I turned my gaze from the laughing mercenaries and glanced at Ruben. The child, riding his horse with a straight posture, stopped and looked back at me as soon as he felt my gaze. It was cute how he slightly nodded to acknowledge me. Hmm, I cleared my throat subtly and looked forward again.
…
Ever since I revealed that I had memories of a past life, I had been contemplating my relationship with Ruben.
It was true that as I grew accustomed to my life as Sierren, I had forgotten about my past.
I thought I had been reborn as an entirely new being. Therefore, I tried my best to live according to the laws of this land. It was very important to me to feel a sense of belonging in the place where I stood.
However, if my past self and my current self were connected, it was a different story.
Even setting aside the age I had gained in this world… Wasn’t the Emperor, Ruben’s father, forty-three this year? No matter how many times I thought about it, it felt like I was doing something wrong. Every day, or rather, almost every hour, my chest would tighten.
Perhaps it was fortunate that I hadn’t done anything more terrible yet.
However, I hadn’t been able to completely hide my desire for the child at every moment. No, I hadn’t hidden it.
How many times had I held the shy child in my arms as an adult? How many tens of times had I whispered words of affection and endearment? The child’s birthday was just around the corner. Recalling what I had done around this time last year made my insides burn as if someone had lit a great fire within me.
As the sun began to set, we found a suitable inn to rest. Owen wasn’t a very large country, and people lived in close proximity, so we usually stayed in nearby towns each night.
Still, the villages we had visited so far had reasonably large inns where four or five people could share a room. But today was different. There were only ten small rooms, barely large enough to fit two beds and a table. Many of them hadn’t been used for days, and the staff had quickly cleaned them while we ate.
Naturally, as it had always been.
Ruben and I ended up sharing a room.
I tried my best to appear calm and chose the bed on the left.
However, Ruben sat at the table instead of the bed and called me over.
“…Mika. I have something to ask.”
At Ruben’s steady gaze, I hesitantly got up.
Pulling out a chair and sitting opposite the child, I unconsciously bit the inside of my cheek. Whatever the child wanted to ask, my rational self insisted on answering honestly, while another part of me desperately fought to conceal everything and root myself in this world, holding only the child close. I was loud in the quiet room, alone.
Ruben drew a circle twice with his index finger on the table and asked,
“…About the transition from the 21st form to the 22nd form of the Changcheon Muae Sword Art, which you taught me before.”
“…Yes?”
“When I slash upwards from the bottom left to the top right, it feels like too much force is going into my arm. Is that how the sword art is supposed to be?”
…
I blinked slowly a couple of times. Had I heard correctly?
“…When transitioning from the 21st form to the 22nd form… you mean?”
“Yes. I’ve practiced it a few times since then, and it feels like too much force is going into my arm.”
“That… Yes. That is how it is supposed to be.”
When Ruben extended his arm, I hesitated before taking his wrist.
It wasn’t much different from when Ruben first taught me the throwing knife technique. Tracing the lines from his wrist to his elbow, I pointed out several acupoints and explained, while intensely contemplating why he was asking this now.