Chapter 119

When Ian opened his eyes again, the two of them were sprawled out flat on the ground. Their faces and clothes were smeared with dirt and dust, but worse than that was their condition—both were still bleeding heavily from their noses.

“Beric, are you alright?”

“Damn, this hurts. It really hurts!”

“Yeah, you look okay.”

“I said it hurts!”

At least Beric could still speak despite the pain, but Barsabe was curled up, groaning softly. She must have made the mistake of releasing her magic too hastily. Losing all her strength at once meant she couldn’t keep fighting properly.

Ian approached her cautiously and checked her condition.

“…Are you crying?”

“Who’s crying? I’m not crying!”

But she was definitely crying. Barsabe’s tears fell freely, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back her sobs but failed. Ian furrowed his brow slightly and asked,

“You’re Petreo’s daughter? So you were the one lurking around the mansion since yesterday.”

“That’s right. So just kill me now. Otherwise, I’ll come back for you again…”

Barsabe couldn’t finish her sentence. Her father’s sudden death was already devastating enough to drive her mad, but to be defeated like this without even getting revenge was an unbearable humiliation. She had been a knight of the palace guard, but apparently, she was still just an apprentice.

“Was it Molin who said I killed Petreo?”

Ian immediately guessed who had leaked the information to Barsabe. Molin—the old official from the administration who had survived the border thanks to Gale’s blessing. If he was lucky, Ian might even see him at the New Year’s gathering.

“Molin? That old geezer?”

“Let me be clear: we did not kill Petreo.”

In fact, it was the opposite. They had brought Petreo’s poisoned, collapsed body back to the mansion but didn’t treat him. It was all to extract a confession, but ultimately, they bore no responsibility for his death.

“It was your father who tried to kill us first, and it was also your father who chose death to protect his lord and his honor.”

“Lies!”

“Why do you think it’s a lie?”

“My father, my father…”

“Did you think he would just leave you behind?”

That hit home. Barsabe sniffled and tears streamed down her face. He had been a decent leader and, as a father, not a bad man either.

“Barsabe, be clear. If you swear to complete your father’s unfinished mission, then killing me would be justified. But if you seek revenge for your father, you’re mistaken.”

Petreo had acted according to his convictions and made his choice. What could be more honorable for a knight than to fight fiercely in their own place and die with honor? The grief felt by family was another matter entirely.

“If you are a knight, you should understand Petreo’s final decision.”

A knight, or at least a true knight.

Barsabe stared blankly at a patch of ground, sniffling. The blood taste lingered thickly in her throat. Ian sensed she was calming down and continued.

“Do you trust Molin?”

“No.”

“Swear on your honor as a knight.”

“Yes.”

If she had said yes, Ian would have killed her then and there.

Because Molin had sent spies to kill him, and if Barsabe’s goal was to complete Petreo’s unfinished mission, that would have been clear. But since she said she was taking a different path…

‘Maybe she could be of some use.’

Ian checked his pocket watch and glanced at Beric. Beric was brushing off his tattered clothes and wiping blood from his face. The loud noise earlier meant the guards would arrive any moment.

“But what Molin said is true. That Ian from the border killed your father.”

Barsabe staggered to her feet, still glaring at Ian. But the murderous intent from before was gone, replaced by suspicion and distrust. At least, she no longer intended to kill him.

“…I understand why Petreo said those things.”

“What? What did he say? What did my father leave behind?”

Ian muttered deliberately, letting the words trail off. Barsabe stepped closer, asking again, but Ian just took a step back and smiled.

“Curious?”

He had once asked Petreo if he wasn’t afraid of repercussions if he had a family. Petreo had answered only with silence. Now Ian understood why. With such a strong daughter, there was nothing to worry about.

“Is that even an answer?”

“Then don’t sneak around like this. Come to the mansion properly, with all due respect and formality. If you do, I’ll hand over your father’s ring to you.”

Petreo’s ring. It was sealed because it had poison on the silver needle, brought for investigation. Barsabe would probably be able to tell if it was truly Petreo’s or something Molin had prepared for suicide. That could be the decisive proof that Molin had tried to kill Ian.

“Let’s go, Beric.”

“Huh? You’re not going to kill her?”

“That’s enough. Killing her here would only cause trouble.”

With the New Year’s gathering approaching, Ian was surrounded by factions hostile to him. Not just Gale and Molin, but many nobles resented a commoner like him rising to lordship. It was a time when even falling leaves could be dangerous. Even if Barsabe was a spy, they couldn’t afford to give anyone a reason to pick a fight.

“Barsabe, you sure picked a good time.”

“What if she tries to kill me again?”

“Then Beric, you’ll have your weapon, so it’ll be fine.”

“Oh? Haha! That’s right. Things change when I have a sword in hand.”

Besides, if Barsabe had truly wanted to kill Ian, she would have attacked under cover of night.

But she hadn’t. At least, it showed she didn’t want to drag innocent people into this.

“Also, if I die, no one will know where your father’s only keepsake is. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it? Right, Barsabe?”

Ian hinted gently, just in case she hadn’t caught on. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried out of the alley. The nearest guards would be arriving soon.

Tap tap tap!

“This way!”

“That way!”

Just as expected, as they emerged from the alley, they saw the backs of guards running off in the opposite direction. They would be searching the area thoroughly for the source of the noise.

“Beric, you did well. Let’s get out of here quickly.”

“Ian, I’m cold. Hungry. Sleepy.”

“You’ve got all the essentials of a beggar.”

“Whose fault is that!”

Ian nodded for Beric to follow quickly. Passersby flinched at the sight of Beric, bloodied and battered, but soon gave way quietly.

Beric scooped up some snow piled in the corner of the alley and rubbed it over his face.

“Just wiping off the blood? Buy me some meat later, okay?”

“Got it. Let’s change clothes too. Better to toss these.”

His clothes were already ragged, and the bare-knuckle fight had made them worse. Ian hurried toward the tailor’s shop where Romandro was waiting, and within ten minutes, they arrived.

Ding.

The clear chime rang as warmth and a sweet perfume filled the air. Romandro, sipping tea at a table, turned around in surprise and nearly fainted.

“Good heavens!”

“You’re late.”

“Beric, did you roll around in a gutter? You look like a mess!”

Unlike Ian, whose hair was tousled from running, Beric looked like he’d literally been dragged through the mud. Even Viviana was stunned, her mouth agape. The tailor’s madam glanced at Romandro, silently asking if this really was their customer.

“There were circumstances. Mrs. Viviana, have you seen the clothes?”

“Oh yes, yes. We just finished choosing the designs. The latest trend in men’s wear is a slightly loose fit in bright colors, with light tassels, right, madam?”

“Ah, yes. Excuse me for a moment.”

At the madam’s urging, Romandro quickly brought out a line of mannequins. To Beric, they all looked the same, but Ian carefully examined each outfit.

“Bright colors are in fashion, but since Beric tends to be rough on his clothes, let’s go with darker ones for him. I’ll take the white one. This design appeals to me.”

“Excellent taste.”

The madam smiled approvingly at Ian’s choice. It wasn’t flattery—he had picked the shop’s best-selling, and most expensive, fabric.

“And for the dinner?”

“Look at this line.”

“Anything else?”

Viviana watched Ian sip his tea. She wasn’t prejudiced, but Ian’s behavior was unusual given the circumstances. Having spent most of his time in the border desert, he chose clothes more naturally than the young nobles who dominated high society.

“What’s the difference between these two?”

Beric’s reaction was more natural. He compared the buttons, the lining, and other details with impressive skill. Even when Viviana tried to help, there was nothing to add.

“Very well. Let’s do it this way.”

Ian, dressed head to toe in a perfectly matched set—from his coat and gloves down to his shoes—cast a sidelong glance at Beric. It didn’t quite suit him, but at least it looked the part for entering the royal court.

“Thank you. The total comes to five gold coins.”

Considering that a commoner’s monthly wage was just one gold coin, the price was staggering. Beric’s jaw dropped, but Ian gracefully wrote out a check and nodded. Just as Romandro, who had been quietly observing, stood up to add something, Ian slid eight gold coins across the counter. It was a tip for the madam who had helped with the fitting—and a bit of showmanship. This was a tailor shop frequented mostly by the central nobility, and once they left, the madam would surely spread word of Ian among the aristocrats.

“Please take good care of the finishing touches.”

“Of course, leave it to me.”

Ian needed to leave a favorable impression while also demonstrating that his wealth and spending habits were on par with the nobility. It was better to be seen as a nouveau riche than a wandering country bumpkin among the aristocrats.

“Well done.”

Romandro had risen to give Ian that very advice. When Ian smoothly handled the payment, Romandro subtly gave a thumbs-up in approval. Ian glanced back at Beric, who was awkwardly fussing in front of the mirror.

“Beric, give that back to the madam and change into your new clothes. We need to take a walk around the shopping district before we go find your sword.”

“Can’t I just wear this? Master?”

“No. You can’t.”

“Aaah, when’s the New Year’s party again? This is seriously cool. I love it.”

Beric pressed himself against the mirror, admiring his reflection over and over. Ian exchanged an amused look with Romandro and smiled. Then—

Boom!

“What? Again? What exploded this time?”

Startled by the loud noise outside, Beric instinctively leaned toward the window. But Romandro and Vivianna remained calm—it was just the fireworks signaling the start of the upcoming New Year’s celebration at the palace.

“Sir Knight, don’t be alarmed. That’s the palace’s signal marking the New Year festivities. Look up at the sky. Soon, flower petals will fall like snowflakes—it’s truly beautiful.”

At Vivianna’s words, Ian joined Beric by the window and looked up. So this was how the New Year’s opening ceremony was done a hundred years ago in Bariel.

“Wow! It’s real!”

Countless petals decorated the blue sky—golden, soft pink, and shimmering white—falling like stars. Only now did Ian realize why such displays didn’t exist in his own time.

‘This is magic, too.’

With so few mages left, such spectacles were impossible. This was the true beginning of the New Year’s celebration.

Boom!

“Oh! Another one!”

Beric stomped his foot excitedly and turned toward the sound. But over there—

“Isn’t that the blacksmith’s side?”

“Yeah, that’s the direction.”

“I see black smoke. Ian, do you see it too?”

Smoke? Ian tilted his head, then spotted thin tendrils of black smoke rising in the distance.