Ssssh, ssssh.

"Done! It's spotless!"

A pure and innocent maid, with brown hair neatly braided and dressed in an elegant maid’s uniform, smiled brightly as she admired the now spotless house.
She had worked hard enough for the floors to practically squeak with cleanliness, and her mood seemed just as refreshed.
Though she was known for tripping and making all sorts of mistakes, Leila Winter was a maid who took pride in her diligent work.

…The problem was that her inability to understand certain subtleties often left people exasperated.

However, no insult or harsh word ever managed to get through to Leila.
Her mind was always in a "flower field," meaning she didn’t even realize when she was being scolded and, more often than not, interpreted things positively.
In some ways, her mental resilience was probably stronger than that of most mercenaries or knights.

"Maid!"
"Miss Irene, you're here!"
"Please, just call me Irene."
"Hehe, this is more comfortable for me. Just wait a bit, and we’ll have lunch soon!"
"Ah, okay."

Though it was a holiday, Irene Windler had visited the knight’s cabin early in the morning.
But at this point, it was almost routine for the young lady to visit the cabin.
During her lessons with Leila, where she was learning royal etiquette like the courtesy of a curtsy, the two had naturally become accustomed to eating together as well.
It had become so natural to Irene that she didn’t think twice about it.

‘Ah, this is comfortable…’

[Arin, isn’t this a little shameless of you? Eating for free, every morning and evening. I didn’t raise you like this.]

‘W-what do you mean, raise me! And I don’t eat for free. I bring gifts sometimes, don’t I? That should count for something.’

[All of those gifts are from the Duke, not from you.]

‘…….’

[You shouldn’t pass off gifts from others as your own.]

‘…You evil ghost.’

With facts like that, it was almost devilish how she struck where it hurt most.

However, neither Leila nor the cabin’s owner cared enough to point out Irene’s lack of propriety.
In fact, considering the high-end gifts she occasionally brought, which were the kind only dealt with in the royal family, they considered the meals a small price to pay.

Not that either of them cared much for those material benefits anyway.

"By the way, where is the instructor…?"

Boom!

"Ah, there he is."

The moment she thought to search for him, she sensed his presence.
The sound of air being torn apart came from the backyard.

Click.

Irene stepped through the back door and, as usual, saw the knight training tirelessly.

Boom!

"He's practicing something interesting again today."

[That’s not telekinesis, is it?]

"Is that what they call the 'Hundred Steps Divine Fist'?"

[The names of these techniques always sound strange.]

"Yeah, it looks kind of like Chinese characters… maybe?"

Though she had a soul from another world, Irene Windler was just a girl who had never read a wuxia novel, watched an anime, or seen a martial arts movie.
All she could do was marvel at his techniques, not realizing that someone from the same world stood right in front of her.

 

Wooden logs had been set up like dominoes.
There were thirty logs in total, each spaced about 20 cm apart.
Ihan was standing before them.

"Number 7."

Boom!

"Number 11."

Pow!

"Number 9."

Slash!

"…It worked."

Ihan smiled, pleased.
After trying from 7 a.m. to noon, he had finally succeeded once.

But for Ihan, that single success was what mattered most.

Gyeoksantau (격산타우) — a technique where one could strike a distant opponent without physical contact, the principle of which Ihan had applied the day before with his Hundred Steps Divine Fist.
Now, however, he was working on channeling this same power through his sword.

And today, at last, he had succeeded in embedding sword energy into the technique.
As proof, the ninth log had a clear slash mark on it, while the others merely showed signs of impact.

The energy from the sword had transferred.

The sensation of successfully executing the technique brought Ihan immense satisfaction.

‘The important thing is that it worked.’

This was always how it went when Ihan mastered a new skill.
He would keep trying until it worked, repeating the process countless times in a single day, regardless of time limits.
Even though the success rate was under 10%, the skills he had acquired in this way were what made him who he was now.

That was why Ihan was genuinely happy.

The joy of manifesting a skill he had once only imagined.

‘The next goal is Unryong Daepalsik.’ (운룡대팔식)

If he could change direction eight times in mid-air, it might even work against Baltar.

At that moment—

Step, step.

"You're practicing some weird technique again, I see."
"You're here?"

Ihan wasn’t surprised by the sudden arrival of a third party.
After all, it was a familiar face.

And it was…

"Have you eaten lunch? I baked a pie."
"Oh."

It was Jake Farman.

The only knight Ihan considered both a colleague and a friend.

 

Crunch!

The crispy, fragrant apple pie crumbled with a satisfying crunch in Ihan's mouth.
The balance of flavors was perfect, with just the right level of crispiness throughout. It was superb.

Not to mention, the fresh texture of the apple filling was astonishingly good.
The filling wasn’t jam-like but had a fresh, light flavor, with a delicate hint of cinnamon and ginger that made it truly outstanding.

It was a masterpiece, worthy of nothing less than high praise.

Even though Ihan had already finished five meat pies and seven apple pies after the meal Leila had prepared, he continued to eat, clearly still hungry.

“You should quit your job and open a pie shop. You’re wasting your talent.”
“Is that something you say to a knight?”
“Well, you shouldn’t be this good at cooking. Why are you so skilled at it, nobleman?”
“Because I’m a fallen noble.”
“Right. If all fallen nobles were this good at cooking, they’d all become chefs.”
“…I just wanted to feed my younger siblings well. The skill came with time.”
“…What a story.”

Ihan shook his head in disbelief.

The meat pies and apple pies—the perfect combinations in front of him—had all been made by this very knight.
Being a fallen noble, Jake Farman had grown up without servants, which meant he had learned to cook for himself.

And it showed.
Jake’s culinary skills were remarkable.
Better than anything you’d find in most restaurants, and even Ihan—who had a refined palate—considered these pies among the best.

For reference, Ihan had even eaten pies made by the royal chef before.
Which meant this guy was better than the royal chef at making pies.
A hidden talent overshadowed by his skills as a knight.

It was a real shame.

“If you weren’t a knight, you’d already be incredibly successful. You might even have a business empire to rival the trade guilds.”
“Stop with the nonsense. Running a business isn’t easy. How could a restaurant grow to the size of a trade guild? That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, you never know.”

[Franchising] would guarantee success, but such a concept probably didn’t exist here yet.

Ihan briefly considered explaining the idea to his friend to help him succeed but held back.
He knew Jake was a knight through and through.

Before long, Ihan had finished off all twelve pies.

 

“So, why’d you come all the way here, baking pies and everything?”
“…You’re only asking that now?”
“Because I’m full.”
“Shameless.”
“I’d like quiche next time.”
“I swear…”

Jake clicked his tongue at his friend’s shamelessness but couldn’t hide his pleased expression.
Though he grumbled, he enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing someone relish his cooking.
More than anything, it was more fulfilling than his duties as a knight.

“Anyway, I came here for two reasons. First, it’s about the forbidden mages you caught.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb. Two bodies have already been found. The traces there were unmistakably yours. The commander is sure of it.”
“……”

Ihan’s brows furrowed.

‘So that’s how he’s framing it?’

The regressor had deliberately placed the dead bodies where the knights would find them, intending for Ihan to take the credit for their deaths.
Like leaving a reward behind.

But it wasn’t the kind of recognition Ihan wanted.
He had no desire for fame, and Jake seemed to understand that.

“We’ve decided not to make it public that you killed them. After all, you prefer not to stand out. And we don’t want you becoming a target for the other forbidden mages.”
“You know me well.”

It’s good to have competent coworkers.
They handle the tricky situations before they become problems.

“You’ll still receive compensation. If you want, they’ll even offer you a medal.”
“I don’t need a medal. Just give me the reward in cash.”
“……”
“What, something wrong?”
“No, I’m just amazed that you’re still the same after all these years.”
“People don’t change that easily.”
“That’s true.”

Jake nodded in agreement.
He sipped the tea Leila had brought.

“You’ll probably donate that money again, won’t you?”
“…What are you talking about?”

Ihan shrugged, feigning ignorance.
But Jake knew better.

He knew that Ihan wouldn’t keep that money for himself.

‘He’ll just give it to the victims again.’

Only a select few knew the details of the secret missions Ihan had undertaken.
And Jake was one of them.

Ihan had used the knights’ intelligence network to wipe out large slave traders and forbidden mages.
Jake had been the one passing on some of that information, so he was well aware of what Ihan had done.

Moreover, he knew exactly where the money Ihan seized had gone.

‘You hypocrite.’

Ihan would distribute all the wealth he took from slave traders and forbidden mages to their victims, claiming he didn’t want the dirty money.

‘He could’ve made a name for himself with that.’

By law, all wealth taken from forbidden mages or slave traders should be returned to the state.
But Ihan had broken that law, giving all the money to the victims and their families.

‘Could I do the same?’

The amount of money involved was beyond imagination.
Had he reported it to the knights, he could’ve received rapid promotions.
But Ihan didn’t care for money or fame.

He just gave it all away, with a hope that it would help those who needed it.

As Jake watched him, he thought:

‘He’s the most dishonest person I know.’

He gave away everything he earned from taking down the slave traders and mages because he felt uneasy keeping it for himself.

And yet, the fact that Ihan continued to live modestly in his small cabin with no complaints was telling.

Truly—

‘He doesn’t care about the knightly code…’

Yet he was practicing the purest form of chivalry.

Jake found the irony amusing and smiled slightly.

“The commander will never let you go.”
“Don’t say such awful things.”
“We’ll see…”

If it were him, he wouldn’t let such an exemplary knight slip away either.

 

Though the atmosphere was warm for a moment, two men could only enjoy such warmth for so long.
Before long, the conversation returned to its usual pace.

“The second thing I came to tell you is that Duke Lionel is still in the capital.”
“I heard about that. But he’s still here?”

Ihan had thought he’d return to the North after the war game, given the lack of activity. But apparently not.

“He probably still has some business here. He’ll be leaving soon, though. The duke isn’t the type to stay away from the North for long.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Because your student is the likely heir to the Grand Duchy. They might try to approach you.”
“Damn it.”

The last thing Ihan wanted was attention from those in high places.

But the world rarely goes as planned.

“They’ll probably make a move within the month. Now’s the perfect time for the duke to make his approach.”
“…The perfect time?”

What did that mean?

Ihan blinked, unable to understand what Jake was getting at, while Jake looked at him as if he were ridiculous.

‘How can you not know?’

“…The semester evaluations are coming up.”
“…Ah.”
“I swear…”

Jake shook his head in mock dismay, and Ihan scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
He’d forgotten. After all, he’d been delegating most of the instructor duties to the assistants.

‘Semester evaluations… Is it that time already?’

The famous evaluations of the Royal Academy.

Why were they famous, you ask?

‘…I wonder how many will drop out this year?’

Because each year, around 60% of the first-year cadets would be expelled.