“So, what brings you here? You’re not exactly the type to visit just to exchange pleasantries, are you?”

The sharp remark came without giving him a moment to catch his breath, making him flinch.

“…I feel your assessment of me is rather harsh.”
“You don’t exactly have the look of someone who respects their elders, do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘look,’ but judging from your tone, I can guess.”
“Go on, then. What do you think I mean?”
“Judging people by appearances, perhaps?”
“Exactly right. This is why it’s easy to talk to smart folks like you.”
“…Is this what they call giving someone a disease and offering the cure?”

Roen Dmitry de Lionel.

The Northern Young Lord maintained his characteristic poker face, making it difficult to read his expressions.

In general, his face rarely betrayed his emotions, but at this moment, his displeasure was clear. Ihan, noticing this, chuckled shamelessly.

“So, am I wrong?”
“…Annoyingly enough, you’re not. I suppose that’s the irony.”
“Aristocratic brats like you are always impudent to adults, anyway.”
“…I really don’t understand why you always seem to breathe discrimination against nobles like it’s second nature.”
“You should be glad it’s just discrimination. If a mage had looked at me the way you do, I’d have gouged their eyes out first.”
“Hmm…”

Roen typically maintained a calm demeanor, his emotions rarely surfacing. It was partly due to his natural temperament, but also his elevated social standing.

He had been pampered his entire life, with people either addressing him respectfully or, at worst, veiling their criticisms in formalities. Dealing with someone who spoke so bluntly and treated him so casually was challenging.

Still, if asked whether it offended him—

For some reason, it doesn’t.

There was no malice in the words, and the tone felt more like that of an older sibling scolding a younger one.

It was unfamiliar, but…

Not bad… really.

He was surprised by how unoffended he felt.

“I heard you sparred with my uncle.”

Just as Ihan had predicted, Roen hadn’t come for idle chit-chat. Without preamble, he brought up the topic directly.

“…Let’s eat first, shall we?”

Still, Ihan appreciated the gesture of bringing an extravagant fruit set and cakes crafted by a renowned patissier.

Gulp.

As he devoured a slice of cake topped with a rich almond-flavored custard cream, he muttered:

“I don’t even like sweets much, but there’s nothing to criticize here.”
“It should be worth the conversation. Even with money, this dessert isn’t easy to come by.”
“…Fair enough.”

The flavor was superb, justifying Roen’s confident claim. Ihan, reluctantly impressed, conceded:

“…If by ‘uncle’ you mean that monstrous man, then yes, I did.”
“Then it must be true.”
“He’s absurdly strong… Not a bad person, but not a particularly good one either.”
“…That does sound like him. I can imagine what happened. Allow me to apologize on his behalf.”
“No need for apologies. Just tell him next time you see him: ‘It doesn’t add up. If you stole my technique, you owe me the rest of what it’s worth.’”
“…I’ll be sure to relay the message.”

At the mention of his duel with Maximus, Roen gave a bitter smile, as if he already had a good idea of what transpired.

Ihan glanced at Roen out of the corner of his eye, confident that he had come to ask about the recent underground incident. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel exasperated.

Why’s he asking me?

It would’ve been faster to ask his father.

Judging by their relationship last time, things aren’t exactly positive between them.

The strained—or outright hostile—dynamic between father and son was apparent. Ihan had no intention of prying into family matters, but still—

Every world has its share of dysfunctional families.

Ihan found some comfort in the fact that this kingdom didn’t have a culture of family visits.

At least he didn’t have to witness other people’s family feuds.

Ihan wasn’t stingy with his information.

“The cultists in the tunnels, the breeding of half-demons, and the rearing of giant worms… Ha! Each of these alone could destabilize the kingdom.”

The intel he had gathered hadn’t come easily. While some might scoff at the idea of trading it for a few slices of cake, Ihan knew Roen wasn’t a fool.

“—Incidentally, I’ve come across something similar. Recently, I dismantled a slave trade ring, and it seems they were linked to the cultists. Particularly, the vast number of prisoners used to summon that demonic being—‘the Devil King’—were likely transported by that ring.”
“…What an incredible coincidence.”
“Yes, I was very fortunate.”

See? This was a prime example of give-and-take.

The valuable insights Roen offered made Ihan feel that his openness had been well rewarded.

“Hmm… Here’s what we can deduce. Their collaborators have likely controlled the shadows of the Southern Continent for decades. Without such influence, coordination between the tunnels and the slavers would’ve been impossible.”
“Who could create such a network?”
“Among the grand nobles, excluding Galahad, Lionel, and Tristan, there are about three possible candidates. Additionally, the Merchant Guilds and the Mercenary Coalition might be involved. Beyond that, I can think of at least five more major players.”
“…Quite the list of suspects.”
“And all of them would be challenging to confront.”
“Hmm…”

Ihan scratched his cheek, feeling a growing headache as he listened.

Tsk.

Forget it. Why should I stress over this? My sister will handle it.

He’d done his part by passing along the information. The rest was up to those in higher positions.

“If you keep achieving feats like this, you could become one of those high-ranking individuals yourself.”
“Not interested. What use does a swordsman have for power?”
“Doesn’t it bother you, though? Watching Aran Pendragon reap all the credit?”
“…You seem more upset about it than I am.”
“I find it intolerable. Imagining how that incompetent fool will strut about makes my blood boil.”
“Well, isn’t that something.”

Roen’s sharp criticism of the royal family carried undeniable animosity, earning him a curious glance from Ihan.

Looks like Roen has some history with Goldie, huh?

It made sense. The pampered Golden Prince was hardly the type to earn favor from someone like Roen, who had clawed his way through harsh realities.

The two were polar opposites. If they ever crossed paths—

Goldie probably got beaten up a few times.

Ihan was almost certain of it.

This, however, was something he’d confirm with Taechang later. For now—

“I’ll say it again: I don’t care about titles or honors. I prefer practical rewards.”
“Have you received one you’re satisfied with?”

Perhaps sensing something in Ihan’s tone, Roen inquired further.

“...To some extent,” Ihan replied, shifting his gaze.

“This cake is incredible. How can they make something this good in a medieval setting?”
“Lady Irene, have some tea. It’ll help with the dryness.”

The two girls were chatting cheerfully nearby, but Ihan’s gaze lingered on the one with shimmering hair.

“Well, I think it’s a fair trade.”
“Do you, now?”

Roen watched as a moment of satisfaction passed over Ihan’s face.

He couldn’t help but recall the reports his men had given him:

The slaves from the Polt family collapsed, foaming at the mouth and shaking uncontrollably.

And the markings burned onto their skin—those tattoos should have belonged to someone else.

So this is what freedom looks like.

Roen lowered his head, silently offering his heartfelt congratulations.

Congratulations, Zan… No, Levi.

For the first time in his life, he extended genuine well-wishes to someone, savoring the quiet moment.

‘…“Curse Passing,” huh. My sister really does know some fascinating things.’

Ihan knew that his disciple no longer carried any ominous curses.

Not entirely gone, to be exact, but supposedly 90% of it had been removed.

• “Curse Passing” is exactly what it sounds like—a method to pass a curse onto someone else. However, this method requires several strict conditions to be met and comes with significant costs. Be grateful, as I bore both the sacrifices and costs for your sake. In terms of money alone, it cost at least 100,000 gold coins.”

• “…Why didn’t you do that for me?”

• “You insolent brat! Instead of being thankful, you dare to complain?”

• “No, seriously, do it for me too!!”

• “Impossible. Do you think you and your disciple are the same? That child’s curse isn’t fully integrated into her body and is confined to a defined form—a tattoo. But yours? Your curse is fully fused with the blood flowing through your veins. Of course, we could extract all your blood to remove the curse, but… hmm, your survival rate would be about 2%. Want to give it a shot?”

• “…Why don’t you just wish for my death while you’re at it?”

• “I’m simply stating the facts. …Hmm, let’s end the jokes here. However, you should still be cautious. It takes five years for a curse to fully settle into its new host. If the host dies during that time, the curse will return to the original bearer.”

• “…So if the new host just needs to survive for five years, why not freeze them to preserve them until the curse is fully settled?”

• “Sometimes, your ideas are astonishingly crude, dear brother. If you freeze meat and then thaw it, does it come out intact?”

• “…So freezing humans isn’t an option?”

• “As they say, the dumber the knight, the better. You must be an exceptional knight, my dear brother, hoho.”

“……Hmm.”

Recalling how a medieval princess had once lectured him on common sense, Ihan let out a groan.

It had been a deeply humiliating experience.

But still—

“Five years, huh. Hmm… Would freezing them make it easier to manage?”
“……”
“…Why are you looking at me so warmly?”
“No reason. Just thinking you really are an excellent knight.”
“?”
“It’s just something I feel.”

Ihan found himself genuinely pleased by the thought of having such an "excellent" companion.

As the conversation drew to a close, the sunset began to cast its glow over the yard, bringing with it a soft twilight.

Roen rose quietly from his seat.

“The conversation went longer than expected. I’ll take my leave now.”
“You got everything you wanted, so you’re leaving? Cold-hearted bastard.”
“…Shall I treat you to dinner instead? A new restaurant recently opened.”
“A restaurant?”
“It’s on Central Nobles’ Street.”
“…Isn’t land there ridiculously expensive?”
“The investment was significant, but I’m confident it’ll turn a profit.”
“…Why is everyone around me so rich?”

Ihan grumbled.

It seemed like he was the only poor one in his circle.

But then—

“Forget dinner. Get some pre-dinner exercise in before you go.”

Ihan, seemingly more intrigued by something else than wealth, made a suggestion.

“…Pre-dinner exercise, you say?”
“A light workout before dinner, that’s all.”
“…I have a feeling it won’t be light at all.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”

Ihan looked pleased with Roen’s reaction.

And for good reason.

“Because you didn’t decline.”
“…There are times when even I feel like loosening up.”

At some point, the dark-haired young man had drawn his sword, and Ihan, satisfied, stood up as well.