USML 07

Chapter 07

Tap, tap, tap—

When Evan arrived at the inn, a carrier hawk that had been waiting outside the window pecked at the glass with its beak. As soon as Evan opened the window, the bird fluttered inside with the sound of beating wings.

The hawk landed, placed a note on the table, and then vanished as if it had finished its duty. Evan didn’t need to check the note to know who it was from.

Dwen Richard.

He walked over to the table and unfolded the message.

[We’ve captured the head of the Kingdom of Neuat. When will you return? Or would you like me to come fetch you?]

Just as Evan had expected.

Dwen Richard of House Richard, Marquis Richard’s heir—commander of the Imperial Knights’ Third Order, and a comrade who had fought alongside him on the front lines. In another sense, he was also a childhood friend reunited after years apart.

The war was nearing its end. The Kingdom of Neuat, already on the brink of collapse, had started the war to avoid subjugation, but in the end it was utterly destroyed.

They had raided the kingdom’s stronghold, yet the last remaining prince of Neuat abandoned his people and fled. He was far too lacking to be called a prince.

By imperial decree to annihilate Neuat, Evan had led the Empire to victory after eight long years. Then, for the sake of the Empire’s security, he spent another year using Neuat’s former territory as a base while searching for the prince. Evan reflected on how peaceful the Empire had become over the past year.

On the battlefield, Evan had wished someone would take his life.

But unfortunately, there was no one who could defeat him. How cruel—being proud of resembling his father, only to resemble him so much that he could not die as his father had. Evan wanted to plunge a blade into his own uselessly breathing throat.

You must take up the sword to protect people, Evan.

Our family exists for our ancestors and for those bound to us.

He endured by repeating his parents’ teachings to himself. Unable to betray them, he nonetheless prayed that someone, anyone, would take his breath away.

To Evan, everything felt meaningless. Ever since his parents’ deaths, he had realized at a young age how easily a human life could vanish.

Please, mourn them, Young Master.

…

Young Master, please.

If Alto—the butler and aide who had served the Dustin family for generations—had not clutched his hand and begged him to cry, Evan might not even have grieved his parents’ deaths.

After finally accepting their passing, Evan felt something within him disappear.

It wasn’t sorrow, nor anger, nor resentment. The end of all emotions was loss. He had long since lost the feeling of anticipating that tomorrow might be different.

He delegated all authority to Dwen and sought out Sent, where he had once vacationed with his parents as a child. In truth, Evan had nearly given up on going there. He knew that the morale of an army on the verge of victory quickly turned into arrogance.

Evan, it’s fine. Trust me and go.

The one who persuaded him was none other than Dwen, his childhood friend. Dwen, who had followed Evan into the war, stumbled back when he saw Evan again after several years.

Seeing Dwen pale with fear, Evan gave a bitter smile. He knew it himself—he no longer looked human.

Cutting people down, again and again. Each time his sword hand trembled, Evan suppressed it with sword aura and endured.

Am I truly cutting down others to protect something? What is it that I’m trying to protect?

He had grown tired even of asking himself that question. As he departed for Sent, Evan wished—reckless though it might be—that it would be fine to leave everything behind and meet his death there. With such impure thoughts tucked away in one corner of his heart, he headed toward Sent.

“Masks for sale! Masks!”

Disguised as a mercenary, Evan wandered the night market and bought a fox mask from a stall. He remembered the imperial knights who feared encountering him more than the enemy. Evan had no doubt that his own face was monstrous.

“This was featured in the capital newspaper’s authentic antiques column, I tell you!”

As he roamed the market, Evan came across a merchant brazenly selling a counterfeit pendant—one of the heirlooms of House Dustin.

While pondering how to hold the merchant accountable and listening to his excuses, a woman suddenly barged in.

“It’s because people like you keep making fakes and deceiving nobles.”

She muttered to herself with more anger than the merchant himself. Evan’s keen hearing caught her faint voice.

“What a piece of trash.”

“Trash.” It was a word he had never heard before, but judging by the context and tone, it was clearly an insult. Watching her grape-dark hair glint in the lamplight, Evan felt an urge to press his lips to it. The woman, who reminded him of violets, was curious—and even more talkative.

“Hey, excuse me!”

…

“Why are you wearing a fox mask?”

Frightened by emotions he was experiencing for the first time, Evan tried to avoid her—but before long, as if guided by fate, he found himself drawn to her of his own accord.

The moment he saw her smile, his vision flickered. It was an unfamiliar sensation he had never felt in his life.

It was the first time he had ever found someone adorable.

Before Evan could even recognize his feelings, the woman stepped boldly closer without a hint of fear.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Should I be afraid of you? Do people find you scary?”

They’re afraid of you—people are. Evan nearly laid bare his heart to a woman he had just met. And in that moment, as naturally as breathing, he realized something.

Perhaps his life had been lonely. So lonely that he had yearned so desperately for death. Loss had turned to ash and darkened his heart, and shards of memory had pierced his chest and wounded him. That was why he had wanted so badly to flee from life.

Once he became aware of his emotions, the lively woman—so unlike his own bleak self—seemed noble. Evan was seized by a fierce desire to inhale that noble breath.

“May I ask your name?”

Evan looked away from the woman asking his name and stared at a provocative advertisement poster instead.

She appeared to be a commoner at first glance, but her actions, speech, gaze, gait, and the dignity she carried made it clear she was a noble. That meant there was a good chance she knew who he was. Knowing it was deception, yet unwilling to let her go, Evan used an alias.

“Ero.”

The woman looked flustered and lowered her gaze, then soon flushed red and, for some reason, seemed offended. Not long after, she introduced herself as Basil. Evan knew it was a false name, but assumed she had her own reasons—much like him—and didn’t mind.

When Evan tightened his arm around her waist, tension was evident on her face. The woman—no, should he call her his lover now? Afraid he might forget her name, Evan repeated it over and over.

“Basil, Basil.”

Before long, a happiness too great for Evan to bear came crashing over him like a wave. He was happy—and terrified because he was so happy.

While others fled in fear at the sight of Evan’s face, Basil compared it to flowers and constantly told him he was beautiful. She seemed unaware of just how beautiful she herself was.

He wanted to be the only one who knew how lovely Basil was, but any man with eyes would know.

Of course—she shone all on her own. Evan deliberately chose deserted places so Basil wouldn’t notice. Otherwise, he thought he might gouge out the eyes of those men and display them by color.

“Basil.”

Thinking of her, Evan couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across his face. He slowly rubbed his mouth, then suddenly stiffened.

“…Was I too hasty?”

The impulsive thing he had done came to mind.

Marry me.

Basil had opened her mouth, then avoided answering his proposal. Evan fervently hoped that, in the capital, spitting food into someone’s face was the accepted way of accepting a marriage proposal. Otherwise, it would mean she hadn’t considered a future with him. No—she could start thinking about it now.

Lost in thought, Evan stared at the romance novel lying on the table. It was a book Basil, an avid reader of romance, had recommended.

“There’s a scene where the male lead proposes—make sure you read it! It’s so wonderful!”

After pondering for a moment, Evan nodded resolutely.

“I should use it as reference.”

Having made up his mind, Evan picked up the note again. His blue eyes skimmed the imperial script, then stopped at the final line. A sharp light flashed in his gaze.

[We’ve received news regarding Willian Dustin.]

It was fresh information from Alto. It seemed his uncle had been quite busy while Evan was away at war.

He needed to hurry—tie up everything and bring her back safely. A savage aura wrapped around Evan’s body, rising like heat haze.

He curled his fingers and brought them to his lips, releasing a whistling sound. As a familiar shadow drew near the window, Evan wrote quickly with the quill on the table and folded the paper. Tying the note to the hawk’s leg, he awaited the reply it would bring back.

[How do you propose?]