Ch.23EP.7 – Irene Windler Is the Next-Door Neighbor (4)

……Why did we end up fighting like this?

It feels like we just met and started fighting to the death for no reason.

It was simply a situation that arose from not wanting to lose a battle of intimidation, and in a way, it was almost an accident caused by male pride?

So in the end.

‘It’s all that bastard’s fault.’

Ihan glared fiercely at the man, and the other did the same.

With his black robe removed, the man’s face had the appearance of someone who might be called a young noble.

The scar etched on one of his cheeks revealed a rough life lived, somehow likely to evoke sympathy from women, the kind of face that might make women approach him first.

…That makes me dislike him even more.

Ihan growled, and his opponent growled louder.

They weren’t dogs, but it was only natural to glare at each other, unwilling to back down now that they’d come to dislike one another.

Ihan and Lac stared at each other again, raising their fighting spirit, and assumed positions ready to reach out at any moment.

This time, they were preparing to go at it seriously with blades rather than just fists…

[Enough. How many times must I say it?]

“……”

“…I apologize.”

[Sigh, this is why knights are so troublesome.]

The rebuke from the overwhelming authority figure was enough to subdue their fighting spirit.

“…I greet Your Grace, Duke Blake.”

[Now I finally receive a greeting. I didn’t realize the Silver Lion’s neck had become so stiff.]

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

[…Let me correct myself, it seems only you are this stiff.]

“Me? My neck is quite flexible…”

[……]

“You commoner scum! How dare you speak to His Grace that way!”

“I was being polite, what’s the problem?”

“You bastaaaaard!”

The atmosphere was about to erupt into another fight, but fortunately, this time the black-robed men grabbed Lac first, preventing him from moving.

Ihan snickered at the restrained Lac, who gritted his teeth in response.

[…This is giving me a headache.]

The Duke rubbed his brow.

* * *

A man appeared in the mirror.

Not a mirror meant to reflect someone nearby, but a mystical mirror that showed the face of someone far away.

A mystical treasure said to be created by only a select few magicians, born through miraculous probability.

An artifact.

Yes, that must be an artifact.

One said to be worth the price of an entire castle.

Those with the wealth and power to own such artifacts are extremely few in the kingdom.

And now, Ihan was face to face with one of those rare wealthy and powerful individuals.

…But wasn’t he supposed to be in his 60s?

What’s with this?

‘I’d believe it if someone said he was younger than me.’

Ihan felt a different kind of fear as he looked at the man, who, unaware of this fear, slowly began to speak.

[Before we begin our conversation, I must apologize. We were the ones who disturbed your peace first.]

“Y-Your Grace…! How can you say such honorable words to a commoner! You mustn’t do that.”

[One must acknowledge what should be acknowledged.]

One of the pinnacles of power in the Pendragon Kingdom.

Not someone with just a nominal duke title, but a person with enough authority to proudly declare himself a duke-king without exaggeration, the current master of Galahad.

It was unthinkable for such a person to willingly show “regret” to a knight of commoner origin.

Beyond common sense, it was a matter of authority and status.

The nobility of royalty should always be lofty and absolute.

However

[Enough. How can expressing regret be considered a flaw?]

Duke Blake waved his hand as if such a statement was nothing special, and instead reprimanded them.

As if telling them to stop embarrassing themselves.

But seeing this…

“Your Grace, how can you be so generous…!”

“Kuheuuk! As expected of Your Grace.”

“Indeed, authority is established merely by your presence, great one…!”

[…Haah.]

They were excessive, no, they were like a cult worshipping a new religion. The Duke’s sigh grew longer.

As if too much loyalty wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

…Watching this, Ihan wore a peculiar expression.

‘This is supposed to be [that murderous psychopath]? …No way, he seems completely normal.’

Well, his tone did clearly reveal a condescending attitude toward others. But that’s like a passive skill for noble families.

So there’s no need to be bothered by it.

However, seeing such a “sensible appearance” gave him a sense of dissonance.

This wasn’t some raving lunatic, but just an ordinary nobleman, wasn’t he?

Ihan began to doubt whether this man was truly the Duke Blake he had heard about.

[-There’s no need for doubt. I am indeed ‘that’ Duke Blake you know.]

“I, I didn’t say anything…”

He stammered an excuse that wasn’t really an excuse, but how could he escape the eyes of someone who had spent his life in politics?

The man sneered.

[You cannot hide your disrespectful gaze. Having heard rumors about me, you probably know. That I am a madman suffering from insanity.]

“Umm…”

He’s openly admitting this?

Ihan was now completely convinced.

Duke Blake was not insane.

At least not now.

Rather, he was just a [Duke] who was more reasonable than expected, and even showed some magnanimity.

If it weren’t for the circumstances of this meeting, Ihan would have respected him more.

He seemed like a fairly decent person.

‘Ah, is this that thing?’

The typical cliché from romance fantasy novels.

The duke or grand duke or emperor who’s rumored to be a monster suddenly becomes normal once they meet the female lead.

‘Is that what this is?’

Just as Ihan was thinking this…

[Are you having disrespectful thoughts again?]

“…No. I was just thinking that rumors shouldn’t be trusted after all.”

[Seeing you say that so openly makes me think the prestige of the ducal family has fallen to the ground.]

“Please be generous, Your Grace.”

[…Looking at you like this, you seem like a sycophant.]

Ihan bowed deeply, and Duke Blake didn’t get angry anymore.

No, it seemed he judged that it wasn’t worth getting angry over.

Well, from his perspective, a life like Ihan’s would be as insignificant as a blade of grass.

‘That’s actually better.’

It’s surprisingly easy to deal with someone who only looks down from above.

Because they’re the type who don’t want to dirty their own hands.

In other words, if their interest diminishes, it’s not difficult to escape their sight-

[-I hope you don’t misunderstand. I don’t take you lightly, hidden dragon of the Silver Lion.]

“……”

[I heard there was a demoted knight among those teaching my dear foster daughter, so I investigated. At first, there was too little information about you, but through people I’ve planted in the royal court, I roughly learned what kind of person you are.]

“Is it okay to openly talk about such things?”

Is it acceptable to so easily reveal that he has planted spies in the royal court?

Regardless of whether Ihan was dumbfounded or not, Duke Blake continued.

As if what he was about to say was more important than the spies he had planted.

Sure enough.

[During the war with Britain, there was a particularly fierce ‘Hundred-Day Siege’ where the Pendragon forces gained a decisive advantage, but the lives of all soldiers were in danger. Yet in that perilous situation, there was a nameless soldier who saved over 1,257 soldiers.]

“……”

[Also, when Britain’s assassination squad moved to kill Isis, there was a soldier who protected her. I heard that the hero who saved countless soldiers and the benefactor who saved that child were the same person.]

“……”

[That soldier caught the eye of ‘that’ Sir Baltar and became a formal knight without going through the trainee knight stage. Moreover, there’s a rumor that he’s the only one receiving guidance from Sir Baltar, who is famous for not taking disciples.]

“Who received guidance from that man! All I did was get beaten up every day!”

He couldn’t help but flare up at this point.

Guidance?!

Don’t make me laugh.

All he learned from that man was how to get hurt more painfully and how to build endurance.

Ihan ground his teeth, not forgetting the grudge against the one who forcibly put him in the knighthood, but the Duke’s reaction was calm.

[Hmm, why such a sensitive reaction? I’m merely talking about ‘some nameless soldier.’]

“…Let’s stop this game.”

[No, the most important part remains. That nameless soldier, after becoming a knight, eliminated 15 ‘major slave rings’ and 29 notorious ‘illegal magicians.’ Accomplishing alone what might not be possible even with royal forces—truly remarkable, isn’t it?]

“…Do you have evidence that this nameless soldier did all that? It seems more likely to be a baseless rumor.”

[It’s not a baseless rumor. This is information obtained from those rescued from the slave rings and those who were tortured as test subjects by the illegal magicians.]

“……”

[With power, money, and capable personnel, verifying the truth of information is always possible. Remember that, knight who hides his heroism.]

“…Damn it.”

A monkey on Buddha’s palm.

That was the sudden realization of his situation, and Ihan finally bowed his head.

…Indeed, he hates those in power.

* * *

The Duke and all of Galahad’s forces withdrew.

He didn’t know why.

There clearly should have been more to discuss, but Duke Blake left with a meaningful smile, withdrawing his forces gracefully.

As if just talking with him had been enough to gauge what he needed.

As if all his curiosities had been satisfied.

…While Ihan still had so many questions.

Well, that probably wasn’t important to someone like him.

‘Geez.’

—This feels awful.

Clearly, he should be happy that an overwhelmingly powerful person who could kill him had left, but he didn’t feel happy at all.

Rather, it was indescribably unpleasant to have his lifeline in someone else’s hands.

He realized anew.

He was still.

“Weak, pathetically weak.”

Though he thought he had improved from his previous life.

He was still living a life controlled by others.

Stagger.

Ihan’s body swayed.

He had tried not to show it, but his body wasn’t in normal condition either.

The injury was painfully persistent, refusing to heal properly.

That bastard’s fist was something else.

The highest praise for his opponent, the worst for the one who received it.

But what made him feel even more bitter than the pain was…

“…Giving medicine after causing the disease, huh.”

Ihan looked at the medicine bottle in his hand.

It was a potion.

Not a low-grade potion commonly made by alchemists, but a top-tier potion made with troll blood.

A 50% purity one, was it?

“……”

Normally, he would have gladly accepted it, but Ihan couldn’t help but frown.

The feeling of being toyed with by someone.

It was simply unpleasant to know that someone had thoroughly figured him out.

…Still.

Gulp, gulp!

Ihan had no intention of carrying this displeasure indefinitely.

He drank the potion.

And made a resolution.

‘I haven’t lost yet.’

It’s not the strong one who wins.

It’s the one who survives until the end, the one who is ‘happy’ who wins.

Ihan resolved again.

To become happy.

…Without fail.