At the outskirts of the capital, near the city gates, a bustling square was filled with the clamor of merchants and laborers shouting and waving their hands. Piles of hundreds, even thousands of crates were stacked like mountains, with heavy sacks towering even higher, forming small hills. It was harvest season, and more goods were being transported than usual, with significantly better quality.

Departure was scheduled in an hour. The caravan, which regularly transported supplies to the no-man's land in the east, was lined up, waiting to set off.

“A supply escort mission, huh? A rather novel way of sending you east. The road to the east is treacherous and long, so it’s not a popular mission,” said the guild master of the capital’s guild, watching Maxim load crates onto a wagon. The hooded man shrugged his shoulders as he loaded the last of the crates. The two enormous horses pulling the wagon neighed and stamped the ground.

“The sheer volume of supplies going east on these regular convoys is overwhelming. No matter who’s watching, there’s no way they can check every single crate or escort. Not even they could inspect all of this manpower and cargo in detail.”

The guild master waved a thick hand at passing adventurers, flashing a friendly smile, but quickly turned back to Maxim, continuing his speech.

“It’s the safest and fastest way to transport our forces east without catching Bening’s eye. His Majesty’s insight is truly impressive.”

It was unclear if he was looking for Maxim’s approval, but the guild master followed his gaze to the crates upon which Maxim was sitting. Once again, Maxim merely shrugged in response.

“How did you even come to be connected with His Majesty?”

“Everyone has their reasons.”

The guild master still didn’t know Maxim’s true identity. He didn’t know that Maxim was now part of the king’s personal guard. To him, Maxim was just another adventurer who had received the king’s patronage. The capital’s guild master had received clear instructions: don’t ask too many questions—just follow orders. And yet, the mystery surrounding this hooded adventurer piqued his curiosity.

There was something about the adventurer’s abilities, the way he carried himself, that set off the guild master’s instincts, honed from his own years as an adventurer.

“Impressive.”

The guild master’s mind raced as he observed Maxim with calculating eyes. Maxim, however, ignored the scrutiny and continued his work, securing the final crate.

“When are the other adventurers arriving?”

The guild master cleared his throat, quickly glancing around.

“They were told to gather thirty minutes before departure. They should be here soon. I’ve selected some of the best adventurers, so there’s no need to worry.”

Not that Maxim had said he was worried. In fact, whether the others were skilled or not hardly mattered to him.

Maxim, casting an indifferent glance at the now-chattering guild master, continued to watch. The man, however, couldn’t see the expression hidden in the shadows of Maxim’s hood.

“They should be arriving right about—ah, here they come.”

The guild master’s voice trailed off as a group of rough-looking men with stern expressions approached. Leading them was a scruffy-haired adventurer, flashing a sharp, toothy grin.

“Right on time.”

“How long has it been since the last transport mission? Especially for the eastern route, which is practically our bread and butter. Gotta do it right.”

“That’s right. No room for mistakes. The merchants don’t want to have to resort to hiring mercenaries.”

The guild master, who had just been eagerly chatting, suddenly switched to his more typical stern demeanor. Watching the scene from the shade of the caravan, Maxim let out a quiet chuckle.

“Although... it seems we’re missing one person. What are we going to do without our most skilled man?” said the guild master, furrowing his brow.

“Oh, right!” The scruffy adventurer smacked his forehead. “He’s probably talking to the merchants’ representative right now.”

“As proactive as ever, I see,” the guild master sighed, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely displeased with the adventurer’s initiative.

“There he is.”

The guild master’s head turned toward the adventurer’s gesture.

“Ah, Pierre. You didn’t have to handle that yourself.”

Pierre?

Maxim’s shoulders tensed. The name triggered a memory, but he dismissed it. After all, there could be plenty of people named Pierre in the capital.

Must be a coincidence, Maxim thought as he shook his head.

“It’s nothing. I figured I should handle it.”

But that voice... That deep, gruff voice was unmistakable. Sneaking a glance outside the caravan, Maxim spotted a burly, bald man wearing the ragged garb of an adventurer. It was none other than the instructor—Pierre.

How the instructor had ended up as an adventurer, Maxim couldn’t begin to guess, but if his identity were discovered, things could get tricky. Though the chances of being recognized were slim, Maxim still felt uneasy.

Slipping his hand under his hood, Maxim rubbed his now-black hair. His appearance had changed drastically, thanks to the king’s assistance.

‘A potion of bodily transformation,’ the king had called it.

When the king had handed it to him, Maxim hesitated for a long time. The green, shimmering liquid resembled poison more than anything else.

‘Just take a sip.’

Seeing the hesitation on Maxim’s face, the king realized his mistake.

‘Ah, my apologies. Of course, you wouldn’t be so quick to trust a potion handed to you.’

‘No, Your Majesty. I overstepped.’

Maxim had drunk the potion on the spot. Surprisingly, it tasted like melted candy, sweet and pleasant as it slid down his throat.

But then...

‘...!’

His face burned. It felt as if someone were yanking his features, twisting them violently. His facial structure was shifting. Amidst the searing pain around his eyes, Maxim could feel the transformation taking place.

When the change finally subsided, the pain faded. The king nodded in satisfaction as he examined Maxim’s new face.

‘Your hair and eye color have changed. Even your features look sharper.’

The mirror handed to him by the captain of the royal guard reflected a man with black hair and dark eyes—a completely different face. The features were sharp and striking, a more refined version of his original face. A faint scar now ran across his nose. Maxim traced the scar with his finger, impressed.

‘It even creates scars that weren’t there.’

‘The potion is one of the few remaining in the royal palace. The recipe was lost long ago, so I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make more. But there’s still enough for you and me to use.’

‘Your Majesty, such a rare item...’

‘No one else could use it but you. So take it.’

Indeed, the potion was incredibly rare. Maxim realized just how much faith the king had placed in him.

‘The transformation will stay within the bounds of your original face, but it suits you well.’

‘You flatter me, Your Majesty.’

Maxim handed the mirror back to the captain of the guard, offering his thanks. The king stroked his chin thoughtfully, staring at Maxim.

‘We’ll need to give you a new name. Once you return from the east, you’ll likely serve by my side with that new appearance. Any thoughts, Sir Hugo?’

So the captain’s name was Hugo, Maxim noted for the first time.

‘To avoid suspicion, we should say he’s a distant relative of mine. That would explain his background.’

‘Then let’s make his last name Bern. And for his first name... How about Arsen?’

The king seemed to be enjoying himself as if he were naming an actual person.

‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’

‘Very well, Sir Arsen Bern. From now on, you are a distant cousin of Sir Hugo, newly appointed to the royal guard. Understood?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Maxim still felt strange hearing himself referred to by a new name but answered respectfully. Into his hand, the king placed a vial of green liquid.

‘One vial should last three days. I’ll give you more to take with you to the east. Drink it regularly while on your mission.’

The king firmly closed Maxim’s fingers around the vial.

‘Remember, only you, I, and Sir Hugo know that Arsen Bern is actually Maxim Apart. Understood?’

‘I understand.’

Arsen Bern.

Maxim repeated the name to himself just as the guild master and Pierre approached the caravan where he sat.

“Adventurer.”

Maxim straightened at the sound of the guild master’s call. The bald, muscular adventurer—Pierre—glanced sharply at Maxim. Pierre’s piercing gaze brought back memories of his time as a knight cadet, making Maxim smirk slightly.

“This is Pierre Fabien... He served as a knight for many years before retiring and joining the adventurers’ guild. He’ll essentially be the leader of the adventurers on this escort mission.”

Maxim nodded in acknowledgment.

“He’s highly skilled, and his long years as a knight make him an excellent commander among adventurers.”

Pierre squinted. The guild master, who was usually casual and informal with the adventurers, was oddly respectful toward this hooded figure. A man dressed in a black hood, carrying a longsword...

“Is that... him?”

Pierre thought of the "nameless adventurer." Judging by the way the guild master was speaking, it seemed likely.

“Yes, it’s him. I personally persuaded him to join us for this mission.”

Pierre frowned, folding his arms.

“Is it really safe to include someone whose identity is so unclear in such an important mission?”

“When have we ever hired adventurers with a clear identity? His skill is proven, and the journey will be smooth. Whether he listens to you, though, is another matter.”

The guild master shrugged nonchalantly, and Pierre clicked his tongue, disgruntled. What kind of trouble was the guild master hiding now?

“Well, at least you don’t tend to make reckless decisions.”

“If they value their life, they won’t pick a fight with him.”

With a resigned sigh, Pierre approached Maxim.

“I’m Pierre Fabien.”

Maxim didn’t respond verbally but shook Pierre’s outstretched hand. Pierre hesitated, as if he had more to say, but ultimately dropped the subject and awkwardly stretched.

“Let’s work well together.”

Pierre left to assign the adventurers to their wagons, while the guild master did a quick check before approaching Maxim to bid farewell.

“I’ll be off, then.”

What did he even think of me to be so polite? Maxim wondered, glancing at the guild master. The man looked over the wagons with a worried expression before turning and heading back to the guild hidden in the alleys of the capital.

“All right, everyone in position! We’ll be departing once all the guards are in place!”

The merchant leader’s loud voice echoed through the square. The sound of merchants and adventurers shifting and preparing to leave filled the air. Maxim’s caravan rocked slightly as a grumbling adventurer took a seat at the front.

“Damn it, some people get to relax in the back while others have to sit up front and steer the horses.”

The adventurer’s grumbling trailed off as he squinted at Maxim, who sat atop the stacked crates.

“Hey, you.”

The adventurer’s face twisted in irritation, and he cursed under his breath. Maxim ignored him, absentmindedly counting the potions in his pocket and considering whether he could get through the mission without blowing his cover.

“Hey! You there!”

The adventurer’s raspy voice grew louder, but Maxim continued to ignore him. He tapped the crate next to him, and the caravan shook again. The adventurer, one-eyed and clearly irritated, stormed over to Maxim, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder.

“Hey, bastard. Didn’t you hear me?”

Maxim sighed, finally turning his head to meet the man’s gaze. He didn’t need to be nice—he was an adventurer now, after all. And his abilities were already somewhat known.

“Well then,” Maxim muttered, smirking at the one-eyed man who had arrogantly demanded he take the reins.

Thud.

Pierre, noticing the sudden shaking of the caravan, walked over to investigate. Another mess? How many times did these idiots have to cause trouble?

The sight that greeted Pierre made him pause in surprise. The one-eyed adventurer, who had seemed so belligerent just moments ago, was now hunched over in the driver’s seat, trembling as he gripped the reins. He looked so pitiful that Pierre’s initial anger quickly gave way to confusion.

“Nothing to worry about,” came a calm voice from inside the caravan.

Pierre peered inside to find the hooded adventurer sitting nonchalantly atop the crates, looking back at him.