By Zephyria 
“Can you not heal your own body? Or must you recite an incantation?”
The Prince asked. The mage, clutching his pierced throat, gasped for air but could not utter a word.
“I hope the next one is better. At least someone who knows about the Witch of Roberny, or at least someone I can enjoy myself with a bit more.”
As soon as those bored mutterings ended, the Prince’s blade fell upon the mage’s head. The blade split the body in one stroke from the crown to the solar plexus, and the mage died instantly.
And then, only silence remained.
Amidst the pungent stench of blood, nothing moved. Except for the Prince, who languidly tilted his neck from side to side, making a series of crack, snap sounds.
A drop of cold sweat fell just below Isaac’s chin. In a silence so heavy that he feared even that tiny sound might be heard, Isaac thought that if he could, he wanted to stop the thumping of his own heart.
The Prince is looking for the Witch of Roberny. He doesn’t know why. Judging by how he ruthlessly slaughtered their faction to find her, it certainly wasn’t for a good intention. However, one thing was absolutely clear: …he had learned something he was never supposed to know.
The Mysterious Assailant who had been killing the Roberny faction was that man. In other words, the culprit who killed the Grand Duke’s son was also that man. …Presumably, it wasn’t out of a particular grudge, but rather that he would simply cut someone down heartlessly in a situation like this; a man who possesses no mercy for anyone, including his own kin, would never show kindness to another.
I can’t be caught. If I’m caught, it’s over.
Isaac made the sign of the cross inwardly and prayed for the man to leave this place quickly. If there was any salvation in this hellish silence, it was that the presences approaching from afar had finally reached the alley just a block or two away. He never imagined that the thought of the Roberny members swarming like a pack of dogs would be such a comfort.
The Prince wouldn’t stay long. Once he leaves, I’ll quietly slip away from here. Then, I’ll completely forget about Roberny. To hell with the flint jar or whatever; my life comes first. The idea of capturing the Mysterious Assailant to earn merit and a reward is completely abandoned. I’d rather spend a million years digging a tunnel from my house to the treasure vault.
Go away, hurry up and go.
It was just as Isaac dropped a second bead of sweat from the tip of his nose.
Suddenly, a premonition flashed through his mind.
Almost simultaneously with his instinctive leap to the side, a blade surged up through the ceiling, slicing through the spot where he had been. The wooden ceiling split with a shink.
“—”
It was a hair’s breadth. Had he been a fraction slower, Isaac’s body would not have remained intact.
“Hmph… there was a reasonably useful one left.”
The Prince muttered. The blade that had protruded through the ceiling slid back down. Where and when would it surge up again? Probably right beneath me. As Isaac stood with every nerve on edge, the words “Come down” reached his ears. There was no one else here but him who could be the target of those words.
He’d been caught. He didn’t know when, but in a situation where it was obvious he had been discovered, there was no point in agonizing over it. Rather than being skewered from below by a blade that could surge at any moment, it was better to go down.
Isaac swallowed a groan and tore away a loose wooden plank to descend.
Even as Isaac leaped down from the ceiling and landed in the center of the room, the Prince showed no sign of surprise. Conversely, Isaac, who had only seen the surroundings through the gaps in the planks, turned pale upon seeing the sea of corpses.
“You… you’re that fellow, the Royal Guard.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised. Isaac hurriedly knelt and bowed his head. Come to think of it, it was a similar situation the last time they encountered each other—as Royal Guard Isaac. Back then, it was the carcass of a magical beast instead of human corpses, and it was in the forest rather than the top floor of a tavern. …Why does he always run into this man at blood-soaked scenes?
“What were you doing here?”
The Prince asked, looking down at Isaac. Isaac’s heart sank. Why was he here? What was he doing? The answer… probably wouldn’t matter. No matter how he answered, Isaac’s life would be on the brink of death.
“The Roberny…”
Isaac desperately considered what lie might give him a chance of survival for a moment, but then gave up. This was not a man who would be fooled by a clumsy lie.
“I was lying in wait to uncover the identity of the Mysterious Assailant who has been killing the Roberny faction.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to earn merit and receive a reward from the King.”
The Prince, examining his sword slowly as if a reaper were inspecting his scythe, cast a glance at Isaac. Even within his expressionless face, there was a faint look of absurdity in his eyes—a gaze that seemed to ask, Do you really expect me to believe such an ignorantly simple answer?
Isaac knew. He knew how ridiculous and flimsy this excuse sounded. It would have sounded far more plausible to say, ‘I work as a Royal Guard by day and as a subordinate of Roberny by night.’
However, that answer was the absolute truth, without anything added or removed. Feeling slightly wronged by that incredulous look, Isaac met the gaze head-on. The blue pupils staring at him seemed to narrow slightly.
“…Merit. How regrettable.”
He believed him! …But there was no time to be happy. The meaning of the words that followed was clear. He intended to kill him. Isaac’s heart sank again.
“—I have a poor memory.”
As Isaac hurriedly spoke, the Prince, who was just about to turn toward him, raised an eyebrow.
“The moment I leave this place, I will forget everything I saw and heard here. No, I’ve already forgotten it all. I can’t even remember what I had for dinner. I no longer have any interest in Roberny. I won’t have a shred of interest in the future, either.”
I didn’t see anything. I didn’t.
Isaac appealed desperately. Though there was no way the Prince didn’t understand what he meant, the Prince looked down at Isaac without a word and slowly flicked the blood droplets off his sword. It was a habit just before cutting something. It felt as if the afterlife was right before his eyes.
“I…”
Isaac continued urgently. He didn’t even know what he was saying. He just poured out words, clutching at any straw he could find in his desperation.
“I might be able to be of help to you, Lord Kaieon. It must be cumbersome to travel in secret alone to avoid people’s eyes, and I am quite good at handling cumbersome tasks even within the Royal Guard. If you let me handle such matters, you can greatly reduce the trouble of moving yourself. Also, despite how I look, I’m quite useful, and I can usually find out most pieces of information.”
“Yes, it seems so. Considering you were hiding here.”
Isaac’s heart sank again and again. Though the words were indifferent, he intended to kill him. Without any interest in Isaac’s words, the Prince looked out the window where dawn was faintly beginning to break. His face looked as if he were thinking, Let’s just clear this away and go.
“You have, of course, done wonderfully so far, but I thought it might be more convenient to have someone easy to use within the Royal Palace…”
His mind was such a mess that he didn’t even know what he was saying. Are you going to kill me? Don’t you need a pain reliever?? However, he had just enough reason left to keep those words inside. He might save his life, but it would mean a lifetime in prison. But look, you might not know, but if I die, it’ll be hard to find a new witch, sir.
“I also know more about witches than other people do.”
The words slipped out accidentally because the circuits in his head had tangled with his tongue.
“I’d be a decent errand boy… .”
As he added that, Isaac let his voice trail off. He felt the Prince’s gaze.
“How much?”
“Pardon?”
“How much do you know?”
For the first time, the Prince demanded an answer. The moment his eyes met the blue pupils staring straight at him, Isaac flinched slightly.
Is this it? The subject he’s interested in.
“…When I was young, a witch lived in my neighborhood. Without knowing she was a witch, I lived close to her like family for over ten years. Perhaps because of that, I can distinguish them more easily than others. I seem to have a bit of a knack for that side of things…”
Not a hundred percent, but roughly, vaguely, Isaac added hesitantly. Why did he feel like he had grabbed a straw, only to find out it was a rotten one…?
The Prince looked at Isaac thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he reached into his clothes, pulled out a heavy-looking pouch, and tossed it onto the table. Seeing the Prince gesture toward the pouch without a word, Isaac hesitantly untied the drawstring. As the fabric opened, the contents spilled out.
They were dazzling, tiny gemstones. Isaac was captivated by the nail-sized, brilliant fragments mixing silver, white, and rainbow hues. The blood of the witch, which could not resist anything sparkling and luxurious, stirred for a moment. However, the reason he didn’t immediately pounce on the gems with an enchanted face was partly due to the human blood that filled half his body, but more than that—
“Pick them out.”
The Prince said. Isaac glanced at the Prince for a moment and then looked back at the gems.
An ominous energy was creeping and rising from the pile of gems. It was a repulsive, unpleasant energy that he didn’t even want to touch. Isaac’s nerves were so heightened that he could almost feel the cats on the ceiling bristling their fur.
Isaac slowly sifted through the pile of gems with his palm. It felt unpleasant. He felt nauseous. He soon realized it was because of the witch’s blood. Something that witches hate was mixed in here.
“—”
This is it. Isaac realized the moment a single stone touched his fingertip.
I see. This is a crystal of holy silver that has received the consecration of priests for generations.
It was his first time encountering it directly, but he knew instinctively. He had seen it in a book before. It was an object that repelled all sorts of wicked things, a holy relic aged for a hundred years or more.
However, he never imagined that such a rare item, consecrated every single day for a hundred years, actually existed. And that precious thing was indeed certain to repel evil.
Isaac felt goosebumps, as if he had touched a bug. He could only endure it because he was half-blood; otherwise, he would have pulled his hand away immediately.
The Prince watched Isaac in silence. Isaac slowly sifted through the gems and, among the glittering particles, grabbed the repulsive grain along with four or five similar-looking pieces all at once.
When Isaac held out the fragments to the Prince, the Prince looked down at them and asked.
“Which one among them?”
“…I do not know.”
Isaac muttered, bowing his head. He couldn’t be wrong, but he couldn’t be too precise either.
The Prince, taking the fragments, rattled them quietly in his hand while looking at Isaac. It was scarier because he didn’t know what the man was thinking. The hand still stroking the hilt of the sword was slow. Should I cut him, or not? Cold sweat soaked the back of Isaac’s neck.
The presences from outside had almost arrived. He could hear the sound of people banging on the door right below the building. The entrance seemed to be blocked, but they would soon break through the door and swarm in.
“Your unit?”
It was then that the Prince spoke. Isaac instinctively snapped his head up, but as soon as he met those blue eyes, he dropped his gaze again.
He lived.
While he felt a sudden wave of relief, he was simultaneously overcome with the agony of really not wanting to answer. However, he had no way to avoid it.
“…The 3rd Squad.”
Isaac muttered as awkwardly as possible. The Prince gave a nod—or perhaps he didn’t—and turned away. After that, as if he had completely lost interest in Isaac, he looked around and picked up a crossbow lying on the floor. The Prince shook it lightly a couple of times, as if gauging the weight of the crossbow and bolts, and then leaped straight out the window.
Isaac didn’t even have time to say that this was the top floor. The movement of grabbing the awning and leaping onto the roof was truly agile.
“…”
Who am I worrying about, why am I worrying…
Isaac slumped down on the spot. He buried his forehead in his knees and let out a long sigh.
He felt as if he had come back from the dead. It was a feeling he had been experiencing quite often lately. He felt as if he had aged a hundred years in an instant. He figured his hair would probably turn white soon.
He felt exhausted in both body and mind, but there was no time to sit and rest. From below, there was finally a loud bang! as if the door had been breached, followed by the sound of people pouring into the building.
Isaac forced his heavy body up and went to the window. Looking outside, he saw a crossbow bolt embed itself deeply into the wall of the neighboring building some distance away. A thick rope was tied to the end. He’s leaving the same way I do…
“But with that distance and that thickness of rope, it won’t hold the weight and will snap halfway.”
Isaac muttered. But he wasn’t worried at all.
As expected, as the Prince slid down the rope, the rope snapped when he was more than halfway down. He simply grabbed the end of the rope and landed lightly on the wall of the neighboring building, then jumped without hesitation from a height of about two stories. Of course, he landed perfectly, cut down five or six unlucky henchmen nearby in one stroke, and vanished into the side alley.
He saw the men shouting and chasing after him in a swarm, but as expected, Isaac didn’t worry in the slightest—though he offered his condolences to those men—and lightly shrugged his shoulders.
Although the people were crowding that way, the presences coming up from the lower floors were getting closer and would soon burst in, so he had to escape as well. …I’ll use this chance to flee to the opposite building where no one is. Thank you, Prince.
After one last glance at the ceiling to confirm that the three cats had vanished without a trace, Isaac slowly crawled out the window.
The training grounds in the afternoon, under the stinging sunlight, were peaceful beyond measure.
No matter how much the rough shouting of men, their yells of discipline, and the clashing of weapons filled the grounds, it was peaceful. Even with weapons whistling back and forth right in front of his nose, it was peaceful.
With the feeling of an old man basking in the spring sun, Isaac languidly blocked the wooden swords flying at his head, torso, and limbs. When he felt too lazy to dodge, he would simply take a hit or two on his thigh or forearm.
How peaceful this was. It wasn’t a blade that could take his head off with a mere graze, nor was it a flash of speed that was impossible to avoid. No matter how he was hit, there was no danger to his life; at worst, he’d just get a hairline fracture in a bone.
“Hey, what’s with you today?”
Olsen, who had been swinging his wooden sword while tilting his head in confusion for a while, spoke.
“Hmm? What about me?”
“I mean, why are you sparring with such a serene smile, as if you’ve reached enlightenment? Did you practice some kind of asceticism while you were under house arrest?”
Facing his sparring partner who was looking at him with a bizarre expression, Isaac smiled warmly.
“Well… I’ve come to realize how beautiful the reality is where I don’t have to worry about my life every single moment…”
“??? What’s wrong with this guy?”
Olsen looked back at the pair sparring next to them with an increasingly disturbed face. Lauder, who was swinging his wooden sword ferociously as if he were about to devour his partner, replied without even looking.
“Leave him alone. Would a guy who barely escaped death not gain some insight into life? He probably had plenty of time for self-reflection while under house arrest.”
“True, true. If I had survived being hunted by a mage, a magical beast, and Lord Kaieon all at once, I too would live a life of gratitude every single moment.”
Brick, Lauder’s sparring partner, nodded in agreement.
“Is that so…?” Olsen tilted his head skeptically, but seemed somewhat convinced as his scowl relaxed.
“By the way, did you spend your house arrest just locked up and working out alone? How is it that your movements aren’t rusty at all?”
Brick spoke to Isaac, who had been deftly dodging attacks by a hair’s breadth for a while now. He must have been watching. “Yeah, for someone who’s been stuck at home for over fifteen days, he’s practically flying. …You went out to play in secret, didn’t you?” Lauder added.
“…I spent my time struggling to stay alive.”
Isaac replied with a momentary bout of gloom, but soon brightened his expression. What did the past matter? Let’s not even think about the future for now. He should just enjoy this peaceful moment.
Just then, Squad Leader Simon shouted from a distance, “Short break!” The soldiers who had been sparring stopped their training and, wiping away sweat, headed toward the water pumps or the shade of the trees. Isaac also drank some water from his canteen and went to sit under a large nearby tree. Even so, it wasn’t particularly cool, as several men smelling of sweat and radiating heat crowded in to sit.
“Anyway, it’s a relief. I was worried you might say you were quitting.”
Brick said as he plopped down next to Isaac.
“You think I’d quit over something like that?”
“Plenty of guys besides me were worried. These guys here, and my brother too.”
Isaac chuckled as he looked at the surrounding comrades nodding their heads, including Brick, who gestured with his chin toward the soldiers sitting around them.
Although the incident during the hunting competition had mostly quieted down now, Isaac’s future was unlikely to be smooth. For starters, he had firmly earned the enmity of the powerful Mage Guild, and neither the legal officers nor the Grand Duke’s side viewed Isaac particularly favorably. As a Royal Guard, his chances of promotion were now… well, even if he didn’t say they were completely gone, it was blindingly obvious that his working environment would not be comfortable.
“Anyway, if there’s anything I can help with, just say so. I’ll help as much as I can.”
“Yeah, me too.”
As Brick spoke, Olsen chimed in. The others around them nodded as well. “Thanks, you heartwarming bastards,” Isaac said, patting their shoulders. He spoke jokingly, but his heart truly felt warmed.
Even if they spent their time bickering and fighting, they were comrades who had built up a bond of both affection and friction. These were people who sincerely welcomed Isaac back from his house arrest, even if they didn’t make a grand show of it.
In truth, for a very brief moment, he had wondered if he should quit, but he felt it wouldn’t be easy to find comrades like these anywhere else. Moreover, having endured so many layers of hardship recently, he felt that a bit of enmity was nothing. Besides, if he wanted to achieve something great and receive a reward from the King, it was better to stay attached to the palace…
“…”
…Forget it. Regardless, Roberni was out of the question. He had decided not to even look in that direction.
Damn, what kind of achievement am I supposed to make…
“Still, why wouldn’t the people who view mages as thorns in their side see Isaac in a good light? He contributed to bringing those arrogant mages down a peg in his own way.”
It’s useless; those people aren’t going to get the flint jar out of the treasure vault for me…
Isaac shook his head inwardly, but his comrade Lauder’s words weren’t entirely wrong. While the mages viewed Isaac with distaste, people who usually hated mages would often come up to greet him, even though they were complete strangers.
The Prince wasn’t the only one who hated mages. Because the Mage Guild was so powerful, people simply couldn’t show it openly, but many loathed those arrogant and prideful folk. Especially high-ranking mages who had contracts with royalty often walked with their heads held high even before nobles or high officials, which led to even more gossip behind their backs.
“Come to think of it… I heard he’s a mixed-blood of a witch.”
The words of the people chatting suddenly pierced Isaac’s ears as he was spacing out. Reflexively flinching and shrinking his shoulders, Isaac turned his head. “Huuuh?”
“Huh? What? What’s what?”
As Isaac blinked and asked, Olsen, who had been talking with the others, spoke.
“The Mage Guild Master. Haven’t you heard the rumors? That the Guild Master is actually a mixed-blood of a mage and a witch.”
Only after hearing those whispered words in a lowered voice did Isaac calm his racing heart and mumble, “Oh, uh, I think I might have heard that,” glossing over his response.
There were many rumors surrounding the head of the Mage Guild who had a contract with the King. He was said to be a mage with unprecedentedly vast Mana, capable of controlling all sorts of phantom beasts and magical beasts, and could even influence the weather. Seeing as the temperamental and suspicious mages served him as their leader without complaint, it seemed the rumors weren’t entirely baseless. Furthermore, he rarely appeared before people, so unless there was a massive national event, commoners almost never saw him. Even Isaac, who entered and left the Royal Palace daily for work, had only seen him briefly from a distance during the King’s 30th anniversary coronation ceremony last year; he was a figure harder to spot than most royalty.
Consequently, the rumors surrounding him were diverse—that he was a mixed-blood between a mage and a witch, that he had a secret contract with a witch, or even that he himself was a witch.
“I heard he’s the strongest mage in the last few hundred years.”
“If he’s been the Guild Master for over thirty years among those greedy and jealous mages, that says it all.”
“Right, that’s why people have been saying for a long time that he’s so strong because he has the blood of a witch.”
Without bothering to join the chatter, Isaac simply stared at the distant sky and muttered to himself, so that no one could hear, “I don’t know… I don’t think it has anything to do with that…”
When Isaac was young, his mother rarely used magic even when it was just the two of them, but there were very occasional times when she did. Like when she would bring down a kitten that had climbed too high and was struggling to get down, or when she would give a light demonstration while discussing magic with her fellow witches.
Young Isaac found it fascinating and envious, and he threw tantrums saying he wanted to use magic too, but his mother had told him then:
‘Mana must be innate. You weren’t born with it, so you can’t.’
And she had even sighed, saying, ‘How is it that you’re my child, yet you weren’t born with as much Mana as a human mage…?’
Having realized early on that there are things effort alone cannot achieve, Isaac had since worked hard on the things he could do and lived his life as a human.
…Anyway, since there are witches with terribly weak Mana, it wouldn’t be strange for there to be humans with immense Mana. Isaac thought blankly while looking up at the sky.
“Anyway, I can’t stand mages. Don’t they seem kind of gloomy? It wouldn’t be strange if they secretly killed and buried someone while claiming to be researching magic, right?”
“I doubt they’d go that far, but there do seem to be many of them who obsessively dig into one thing.”
He heard that in some countries, there’s a specific word for such people, something like an ‘otaku’… The comrades beside Isaac were still focused on their gossip. Then, Olsen patted Isaac’s shoulder.
“This guy almost got killed by a mage not too long ago. If Lord Kaieon hadn’t been there, he’d be dead.”
“True, it’s a good thing Lord Kaieon hates mages.”
“I’m telling you, Lord Kaieon is practically Isaac’s lifesaver.”
“…”
No… Lord Kaieon didn’t kill that mage because he hates mages, and he certainly didn’t do it to save me… Isaac desperately wanted to retort, but he stopped himself. He was too tired to talk about that incident again. Rumors spread however they pleased regardless of the person’s explanation, so they could say whatever they wanted.
“Come to think of it, I heard Lord Kaieon’s escort was fired.”
Someone suddenly threw out a comment. Isaac, who hadn’t been fond of the talk about witches or mages, felt this was a good turn and quickly jumped in to encourage the topic.
“Really? While I was on house arrest? By escort, you mean that plaything, right? By fired… do you mean his head?”
Now that he’d said it, it didn’t seem like a very pleasant topic, but Isaac asked with a sour expression.
The Prince’s escort—or rather, his plaything—had been replaced several times. Whether because their bodies broke, they left while sobbing and pleading, or they died. Considering how long the current escort had been in that position, it was about time for him to be replaced. However, as far as Isaac knew, that plaything was quite ambitious, so he wouldn’t have stepped forward to quit on his own. In that case, ‘fired’ likely meant his neck…
“No, no. Literally fired. Dismissed from service.”
Hearing Lauder’s answer as he waved his hand, Isaac felt a sense of relief but asked curiously.
“Why?”
“He got caught playing around with a woman.”
Isaac blinked and looked at Lauder. So, while that plaything offered his body to satisfy Lord Kaieon’s desires, he was also sharing the joys of the bed with some woman. In that case, he deserved to be fired—
“…Wait, it’s not just anyone, it’s Lord Kaieon. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t care at all what his plaything does elsewhere as long as there’s no problem with satisfying his own desires, right? A man who doesn’t even view them as human but merely as tools fired a plaything because of that? Really?”
As Isaac looked at him with a gaze that couldn’t believe the man had such a human side, Lauder and the others replied with faces that understood his doubt.
“The woman got pregnant.”
“What? Ah, well, then it would be a bit much to keep him as a plaything. A man who’s going to be a father… …But I thought he wouldn’t care about that either. I guess he had some morality left after all…”
As Isaac nodded and muttered in surprise, Olsen spoke.
“I wonder. That greedy bastard clung to him, begging to remain his plaything, and he fired him saying, ‘There are plenty of holes other than yours, so I have no need to use yours.’ Can we really call that morality…?”
“…”
Silence fell over the group.
Right, I knew it. That’s our Prince for you. Isaac asked sourly.
“So, the new plaything?”
“Who knows. He was fired just the other day, so a new one will probably appear soon.”
Whoever that unlucky bastard turns out to be, I just hope he holds out well, someone added.
“I don’t care about that, I just hope I don’t have to dig a new grave in the front yard…”
Digging is quite a labor, Isaac muttered, and Brick spoke as if remembering something.
“Come to think of it, I heard Lord Kaieon has been in a good mood lately.”
“What? Really? …Does that man ever have a good mood?”
“It doesn’t show on the surface, but they say nothing particular has been happening at Byeokyeong Palace recently. Apparently, no one has died there lately.”
“Really? How come?”
“Who knows. Even the guys working at Byeokyeong Palace are all tilting their heads in confusion. More than anything, that place is like walking on thin ice around the Dark Moon. But they say no one died during the last Dark Moon, nor the one before that.”
How strange, he really must be in a good mood, did he find some secret, or did he secretly make a contract with a mage? Various opinions bloomed. And amidst that buzzing noise, Isaac alone remained silent.
Looking at it now, it felt as if someone’s great sacrifice was the foundation for this. He suddenly felt like crying.
“Let’s just train…”
Feeling that he would only become depressed if he sat and listened any longer, Isaac brushed off his backside and stood up. At that, the others also began to stand up one by one, grumbling about the heat or the annoyance.
It was just as they left the shade of the tree and were stepping back toward the training grounds. In the distance, a cloud of light dust rose as someone approached on horseback. Another horse followed behind.
Because the Royal Guard training grounds were in a remote area of the vast Royal Palace, it wasn’t a place one would simply pass by. The squad leader, squinting at the direction to see who was coming for what purpose, suddenly stiffened his expression. As the horse drew closer, although it wasn’t yet close enough to recognize the person, it was close enough to recognize the horse.
“—Everyone, fall in!”
The other soldiers recognized the horse almost simultaneously with the squad leader, and they immediately stiffened their expressions and lined up in a single row with mechanical precision. Isaac, standing among them, was no different.
It was the Prince’s horse.
There was no way he could mistake that white, sturdy steed that had traversed numerous battlefields in the borderlands, and it was unthinkable that anyone else would dare sit atop the Prince’s horse.
“What brings him here all of a sudden?”
“The rumor that he’s in a good mood lately must be a fact, right…?”
The anxious whispering died down completely as they got close enough to identify the person sitting atop the horse, which was approaching rapidly with light strides. And finally, the horse reached the lined-up soldiers.
“Squad Leader of the 3rd Squad of the Royal Guard, Simon! I greet Lord Kaieon!”
Simon, who was standing in front of the lined-up soldiers, saluted and shouted loudly. The horse stopped, and the Prince dismounted. The rider of the horse following behind also dismounted. It was the Prince’s attendant.
The Prince looked around indifferently, as if the soldiers weren’t even in his sight, and Simon, who was following his back with a bewildered and nervous gaze, signaled the attendant with his eyes to ask what was happening. The attendant, who was on friendly terms with Simon, wiped his sweat and tilted his head as if he didn’t know either.
“He suddenly said he needs to bring a hunting dog…”
As the attendant whispered, Simon blinked with a confused face, “Huh??”
“A hunting dog? What hunting dog? Aren’t there several at Byeokyeong Palace?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s planning a large-scale hunt and needs more hunting dogs…”
“But why here…? The hunting dog training kennels aren’t in this direction.”
“No, well, he asked where the 3rd Squad was.”
“Eh? Our squad doesn’t raise hunting dogs?”
As Simon blinked in even more confusion, the Prince, who had looked around once, returned. Both Simon and the attendant shut their mouths and stood in a rigid posture.
Isaac pulled his hat down and lowered his head deeply. He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. He had no memory of anything good happening after encountering that man recently.
“Were you training?”
When the Prince asked, Simon stood straight and answered.
“Yes, we were in the middle of sparring training.”
“Hmm.”
The Prince picked up a wooden sword placed on one side of the training ground and swung it a couple of times. Swish, the sound of it cutting through the air was no less than that of a real sword.
He cast his gaze toward the soldiers who were watching him with anxious eyes, wondering what on earth he was doing. Everyone flinched and quickly lowered their gaze. Isaac was, of course, one of them, but…
“You.”
The sound of the Prince pointing someone out pierced his ears. For a moment, his heart sank. An ominous premonition washed over his entire body.
It won’t be me. It can’t be me. It must not be me. While all the soldiers desperately lowered their heads, Simon, who looked at the Prince as the reluctant person in charge, felt a moment of relief before moving his steps.
“Isaac.”
When Simon’s call was accompanied by a hand patting Isaac’s shoulder with deep consolation, Isaac almost collapsed on the spot.
“…Me?”
Muttering as if he wanted to sink into the ground, he forced his gaze up to find the Prince looking at him. The Prince flicked the tip of the wooden sword, gesturing for him to come forward. Leaving behind the comforting gazes of his comrades, including Simon, who had only then breathed a sigh of relief, Isaac stepped forward unsteadily, his complexion turning pale in an instant.
“Isaac, hang in there. To have the Prince himself be your sparring partner, what a glorious—”
Simon’s pretentious words vanished upon receiving Isaac’s sharp glare. Perhaps feeling sorry, he only mouthed the words, ‘I’ll buy dinner, dinner.’ Dinner or not, he wondered if he’d even be in a state where food could go down his throat.
Dragging his feet like a cow being led to slaughter, Isaac stole a glance at the Prince before picking up a wooden sword and standing before him. Then, he stole another glance.
The Prince’s face was unreadable. He looked at Isaac with the same expressionless face he always wore.
He had been like that last night, too. Just like this, holding a sword with an indifferent face that betrayed nothing of his thoughts. And it wouldn’t have been strange at all if Isaac had died by that sword.
“…….”
No matter when he struck. Whether it was yesterday, right here and now, or some unknown point in the future.
This man is someone who can kill me at any time.
A fact he thought he already knew suddenly became a vivid reality, burrowing into his mind. And at that moment—just as Isaac gloomily raised his wooden sword to face the Prince—the Prince stepped forward without waiting.
They had been separated by more than ten paces, and the Prince didn’t seem to be rushing or running, yet the distance closed in an instant. Faced with the sudden, overwhelming sense of threat pressing in on him, Isaac braced himself, every single cell in his body tensing up.
Clack—the wooden swords collided.
It was a strike intended neither to kill nor to fight seriously, but merely to gauge the opponent. It was a way to get a feel for one another. To see how far this man could push him, and at what point he could bring the opponent down. And in the vibration that echoed not just through his shoulder but through his entire torso the moment the swords met, Isaac felt it instinctively. This was an opponent he could not defeat. The best he could do was dodge or run away… though he wondered if even that would be possible.
Isaac glanced at the Prince. He saw the corners of the man’s unreadable eyes tilt up slightly. The Prince also glanced at Isaac, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
The attacks that followed were relentless. This was no longer a sparring match. The Prince might have called it that, but from Isaac’s perspective, these were strikes that could easily break a bone if a single blow landed wrong. With his nerves on edge and every hair on his body standing on end, Isaac focused all his attention on the tips of the Prince’s fingers.
This man should have been born into a martial family, not the royal family. He would have achieved immense success as a military officer… No, why was he talking nonsense about a man who had been at the pinnacle of success from the moment he was born? But if he was born a Prince anyway, he should have given that talent to someone else instead of monopolizing it all for himself…!
Isaac gritted his teeth and swung his wooden sword. He managed to parry the Prince’s sword falling toward his head and tried to use that momentum to strike the open shoulder, but—
“—.”
Crack.
Along with a particularly sharp sound, the weight in his hand vanished. Isaac’s wooden sword snapped in half and fell. The cross-section was smooth, as if it had been sliced by a keen blade. And the attack that had broken Isaac’s sword stopped just above his forehead. It was at a distance where it would have touched him if he had leaned forward just a fraction.
“—, ……, I lost.”
Isaac spoke as he let the broken half of the wooden sword drop.
A pair of deep blue eyes were staring at him. Unlike when the sparring began, the Prince looked Isaac over with a serious, sunken gaze before finally withdrawing his hand.
“Not particularly useful, but not entirely bad either.”
The Prince muttered as he handed the wooden sword to the attendant standing beside him. Unable to tell for a moment whether it was a criticism or a compliment, Isaac glanced at Simon, who was frantically signaling him with his eyes. So, Isaac reflexively bowed his head.
“Thank you.”
“From now on, you are my direct guard.”
Having already said thank you, Isaac was still confused about whether that was the right response or if he should have apologized, and as a result, the Prince’s words reached his brain a few seconds late.
“……. ……. …….”
Did I hear that wrong…? Frozen in an instant, Isaac could do nothing but blink, his mind blank. He very slowly shifted his gaze. Unable to bring himself to look directly at the Prince, he scanned the surroundings, seeing the shocked faces of the people around him. An ominous premonition, which had been simmering beneath the surface, suddenly gripped his heart.
“G-guard? ……Do you mean me?”
Isaac reflexively stiffened his neck and looked up at the Prince. The Prince, who had been walking toward his horse as if he had no further business there, looked back at Isaac. Feeling that it would be over if he let this moment pass, Isaac clung to the conversation.
“T-there are plenty of people more skilled than I am. Like Brick, or Olsen,”
Brick and Olsen both gasped, their fierce glares stabbing into the back of Isaac’s head, but Isaac ignored them. “They’re much better. And although their faces look a bit worn down now, if you scrub them up and dress them up, they’re actually quite handsome—” Isaac was unable to finish his sentence as the two of them grabbed him from behind and pulled him away violently.
“You said to tell you if I needed help! You said you’d help as much as you could! This is it! This is the moment you should be helping me!”
“Is this helping? This is covering for you!!”
It was a scene that starkly revealed the cold reality that when a person faces death, they care only for their own survival, regardless of those around them. Perhaps unable to watch the scene unfold, or perhaps pitying Isaac, who had just returned after a desolate period of house arrest, the Prince’s attendant asked Simon.
“Squad Leader, is there anyone else you would recommend?”
“……, well, those three are all pretty similar……, but Isaac is among the top five in our squad. He’s surprisingly resourceful, so he’d likely be quite useful in actual combat……. ……But why specifically Isaac……?”
As Simon asked curiously, he happened to lock eyes with the Prince, who was turning away. To Simon’s hesitating words, the Prince replied concisely.
“My guard quit recently.”
“…….”
“……. …….”
Simon wasn’t the only one who fell silent. Nor was Isaac. Brick and Olsen, who had been clutching Isaac’s collar, the Prince’s attendant, and the other colleagues who had been watching the fire from across the river—everyone shut their mouths.
If he meant the guard who quit recently, he must be referring to that young man who had been the topic of conversation just a moment ago. The little pet who was fired for getting a woman pregnant.
The claim that the guard position was vacant and needed to be filled sounded plausible enough, but the people remained silent. No one present was unaware that the Prince was not a person who actually required a guard.
And in the middle of that silence, Isaac alone gradually turned pale. Only when his complexion had turned completely sallow did he finally manage to stammer.
“A guard……, no……, but I’m not pretty……, and I’m not young…….”
“What does that have to do with being a guard?”
The Prince turned a puzzled gaze toward Isaac, who was clinging to him as if pleading. Isaac was speechless. Of course, the statement was correct. A guard doesn’t need to be pretty or young. But you’re not the kind of person who actually needs a ‘guard,’ you old man! Everyone in the world knows that the direct guard of the Prince of Byeokyeong Palace is actually a ‘pet’!
He wanted to scream it out loud, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he only groaned inwardly. The Prince looked down at him with narrowed eyes.
“Aha. Were you thinking of the role of a pet?”
Absolutely not. He swore on his life that wasn’t it. However,
“You won’t do. You don’t have a face that looks like it would be fun to bed.”
“…….”
The Prince scanned Isaac from head to toe before cutting him off with those words. The content was undoubtedly something to be grateful for, yet hearing it so bluntly made Isaac feel as if he had been called ugly to his face. I mean, I might be plain, but I’m not that ugly—
“Come to Byeokyeong Palace starting tomorrow.”
Before Isaac could respond, the Prince, as if he had no more business and had said all he needed to say, gave a signal to his horse. The well-trained steed immediately bolted from the spot.
The Prince quickly distanced himself, leaving only a cloud of dust behind. The attendant, who had been left behind, hurriedly mounted his horse, looked back and forth between Simon and Isaac, and said, “Well then, keep that in mind,” before rushing after him.
Wait a minute, what exactly am I supposed to keep in mind? Isaac wanted to grab onto the horse’s tail to stop him, but before he could, the attendant had already vanished, leaving only the colleagues of the Royal Guard. And with them came a desolate silence.
“…….”
“……. …….”
The colleagues’ gazes poured onto Isaac, their eyes darting around as they tried to grasp the situation. They looked at the poor young man standing there blankly, his soul having departed from his body.
“Being the Prince’s personal guard is a promotion, at least…….”
“Congratulations, Isaac.”
“……Don’t congratulate me……. You’re dead, and I’m dead…….”
“…….”
At Isaac’s gloomy response, the colleague who offered congratulations shut his mouth and, as a bonus, got a flick on the forehead from other colleagues for being tactless. Meanwhile, the colleagues looked at Isaac with pity while whispering among themselves.
“What on earth is happening all of a sudden?”
“I know. What a sudden bolt from the blue. Why would he come here to look for a guard?”
“But has Lord Kaieon’s taste changed in the meantime? Why this guy?”
“Lord Kaieon usually looks for guys who are flashy and pretty, but actually, this guy looks clean enough.”
“Watch your backside when you get there, Isaac.”
The colleague who offered another tactless piece of advice was once again pelted with flicks from those around him and had his collar grabbed by Isaac. While shaking the colleague—who was saying “Sorry, sorry, sorry”—back and forth, Isaac felt despair.
The ominous premonition that had lingered since he encountered them at that damn Roberni den last night had finally come true. This was surveillance. This was a gag order. Now, Isaac’s life was one where he would always be within the Prince’s reach, never knowing what might happen or when.
“Farewell, Isaac. Stop by the Royal Guard if you have time. Let’s see each other occasionally.”
If you can even be seen… Simon added in a voice so low it was barely audible, his face looking as if he were suppressing tears at a funeral. The faces of the other colleagues were not much different.
Is this how it feels when the sky collapses?
Isaac eventually slid down to the ground, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t even feel the hands of his colleagues as they carefully patted his shoulder and passed by, as if not wanting to disturb him.
At this moment, only one thought occupied Isaac’s mind: he had to get his hands on that damn flint jar.