"…Why did this fight even start?"

It felt like they met suddenly and, without any reason, decided to fight to the death. It was a situation that escalated simply because neither wanted to lose in a contest of wills, and, in a way, it was an accident brought on by a man’s pride.

In the end…

‘It’s all because of that guy.’

Ihan glared at his opponent fiercely, and the other man did the same. The face of the man who had removed his black robe had the appearance of a noble. A scar on one cheek hinted at a rough life, but it was the kind of face that would evoke sympathy from women and attract them first.

…Which made Ihan dislike him even more.

Ihan growled, and the other man growled back. It seemed ridiculous, like they were two dogs instead of people, but once they started hating each other, it was only natural for them to try to out-glare one another.

Ihan and Rach stared each other down again, their determination rising. They were ready to reach for their weapons, not just fists this time, and go all out when…

[Enough. How many times do I have to say it?]

"......"
"…I apologize."

[Ugh, knights… this is why.]

The commanding voice of an overwhelming authority was enough to suppress their fighting spirits.

"Greetings, Duke Blake."

[Finally, you acknowledge me. I didn’t expect the White Lion to be so stiff-necked.]

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

[Though, it seems you're the only stiff-necked one.]

“Me? I’ve got a pretty flexible neck…”

[......]

“You insolent wretch! How dare you speak like that to His Grace!”

“I said it politely, didn’t I?”

“You bastard…!!!”

It looked like another fight was about to break out, but luckily, this time, the black-clad men grabbed Rach and held him back. Ihan smirked and sneered at Rach, who ground his teeth in frustration.

[This is giving me a headache.]

The Duke massaged his temples.

 

A man appeared in the mirror. It wasn’t an ordinary mirror, but a magical one, capable of reflecting the face of someone far away. Such artifacts were incredibly rare, created by only a few mages.

An artifact.

It was likely an artifact that rivaled the value of a castle.

Only a select few in the kingdom could afford such artifacts, those with both great wealth and power. And now, Ihan stood before one of those few powerful figures.

…But wasn’t he supposed to be in his sixties?
What is this?

‘I’d believe it if you told me he’s younger than I am.’

Ihan looked at him, feeling a strange sense of dread. As Ihan stared, the man opened his mouth.

[First of all, let me apologize. We were the ones who disrupted your peace.]

“Your Grace…! How can you say such a thing to a commoner? You mustn’t!”

[What must be acknowledged, must be acknowledged.]

Blake Galahad, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom of Pendraig. He was not a duke in name only; his influence was such that he could easily claim the title of king. For a man like that to apologize to a commoner was unthinkable.

This wasn’t just a matter of etiquette but a question of authority and status. The nobility had to remain untouchable and absolute.

But…

[Apologizing isn’t a flaw.]

The Duke waved his hand dismissively, as if this were no big deal, and scolded his subordinates for being overly dramatic. But in response…

“How generous you are, Your Grace…!”
“As expected of Your Grace!”
“Yes, your authority is so great that it shines simply through your presence…!”

[...Sigh.]

Their over-the-top praise made them seem like a cult worshipping a new deity, and the Duke’s sigh grew longer. It seemed excessive loyalty wasn’t always a good thing.

Watching this, Ihan had a strange expression.

‘Is this really the “psychopath killer” they talked about? …He seems so normal.’

Sure, there was a hint of condescension in his tone, but that was a passive trait of all nobles. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, seeing this ‘sensible’ behavior gave Ihan an odd sense of unease. This didn’t feel like a madman—just a typical noble.

Doubt crept into Ihan’s mind—was this really the Blake Duke he had heard about?

[—There’s no need to doubt. I am indeed the Blake Duke you’ve heard of.]

“I… I didn’t say anything.”

Ihan muttered a weak excuse, but how could he hide anything from a seasoned politician? The Duke smirked.

[You can’t hide your insolent gaze. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about me—that I’m a madman suffering from insanity.]

“Well…”

He just said that outright?

Now Ihan was completely certain. Duke Blake wasn’t a lunatic.

At least, not right now.

In fact, he seemed to be quite reasonable, even a bit magnanimous. If this meeting had taken place under different circumstances, Ihan might have shown him more respect. He seemed like a decent person.

‘Oh, is this one of those tropes?’

The classic romance trope where the “monster duke or emperor” turns normal when they meet the heroine?

‘Is that what this is?’

Just as Ihan had that thought…

[Are you having another insolent thought?]

“…No. I was just thinking that rumors can’t always be trusted.”

[Looking at you, I can’t help but think the prestige of my house has truly fallen.]

“Please be merciful, Your Grace.”

[And now you look like a scheming courtier.]

Ihan bowed deeply, and Duke Blake didn’t press further. Perhaps he decided it wasn’t worth getting angry over. After all, from his perspective, Ihan’s life probably meant little to him.

‘This works in my favor.’

Dealing with someone who only looks down on others was easier than expected. They never liked getting their hands dirty, so as long as you slipped out of their sight, it wasn’t too difficult to avoid them…

[—Don’t misunderstand. I don’t underestimate you, hidden dragon of the White Lion.]

"……."

[When I heard there was a demoted knight teaching my precious ward, I looked into you. At first, there wasn’t much information, but through my connections in the royal family, I learned about you.]

"Is it okay for you to reveal that so openly?"

Was it really alright for him to just casually admit he had spies in the royal family? Whether Ihan was surprised or not, Duke Blake continued, as if what he was about to say was far more important.

And indeed, it was.

[During the Hundred Days Campaign against Britain, there was a time when the lives of all the soldiers were at risk. Yet, in that dire situation, an unknown soldier saved the lives of over 1,257 men.]

"……."

[And when Britain sent an assassination squad to kill Isis, that same soldier saved her. I heard that the hero who saved the soldiers and the man who protected Isis were one and the same.]

"……."

[That unknown soldier then caught the eye of Sir Baltar and was knighted without going through the usual squire process. He also became the only one to receive personal guidance from Sir Baltar, who is known for never taking disciples.]

"Who got guidance from that guy? He just beat me up every day!"

At that, Ihan couldn’t help but protest.

Guidance?!
Don’t make me laugh. All that guy ever taught me was how to take hits and build endurance.

Ihan ground his teeth, remembering how Baltar had forcibly dragged him into the knight order, but Duke Blake remained calm.

[Hmm, why are you so sensitive? I was just talking about some “unknown soldier.”]

“…Please, no more games.”

[I haven’t even gotten to the most important part. That unknown soldier, after becoming a knight, wiped out 15 major slave trading rings and 29 notorious illegal mages. It’s said that even the royal army would have struggled with such feats, yet this one man did it all.]

“…Do you have proof that this “unknown soldier” did that? It sounds like a baseless rumor to me.”

[It’s no rumor. I found the people rescued from the slave rings, and those who had been tortured by the illegal mages provided the information.]

"……."

[With power, wealth, and skilled subordinates, you can verify any information you want. Remember this, knight hiding his identity as a hero.]

“…Damn it.”

It felt like being a monkey trapped in the palm of Buddha.
That’s what came to mind, and Ihan finally lowered his head.

…He really hated dealing with powerful people.

 

The Duke, along with the entire Galahad force, withdrew.

The reason was unclear. There was definitely more to discuss, but Duke Blake withdrew his forces with a meaningful smile, as if he had already gauged everything he needed just from their conversation. As if all of his questions had been answered.

...Though Ihan still had many unanswered questions.

But, for that man, perhaps that was no longer important.

‘What a joke.’

─It feels disgusting.

He should have felt relief that such an overwhelming force, capable of killing him, had left. But there was no relief. Instead, the feeling that his life had been in someone else's hands, and that it had come so close to slipping away, filled him with a sense of deep discomfort and resentment.

Once again, he realized.

He was still…

“Weak. Filthy weak.”

He thought he had become stronger than in his past life.
But he was still just being pushed around by forces beyond his control.

Staggering.

Ihan’s body swayed. He tried not to show it, but his body wasn’t fine. The pain was unbearable, and the injuries refused to heal, festering.

That bastard’s punch… it was nasty.

It was the highest praise for his opponent but the worst nightmare for the one who took the blow.
But more than the pain, what truly gnawed at him was...

“…It’s like giving the illness and the cure.”

Ihan looked down at the potion in his hand.

A potion.
Not one of those cheap potions made by regular alchemists, but a high-grade potion made from troll’s blood. It was said to be 50% pure.

“…….”

Normally, he would have been happy to receive such a thing, but now Ihan’s frown wouldn’t disappear. He felt like he had been toyed with, and the fact that someone had so thoroughly assessed him left him feeling deeply uncomfortable.

…Still.

Gulp, gulp!

Ihan had no intention of holding onto his frustration forever. He downed the potion.
And then, he made a vow.

‘I haven’t lost yet.’

It’s not the strong who win.
It’s the one who survives to the end, the one who finds ‘happiness.’

Ihan swore again.

That he would find happiness.

…No matter what.