FSTE 02

Chapter 02

Today, a scandalous incident had occurred in the village.
Yet, when Lian’s father returned home in the late afternoon, he looked unusually cheerful.

He even carried a package in his hands, something he never normally had business with.

“Oh my! What’s this meat? Where did you get this?”
“I bought it, of course. Where else would it come from? Did you think I picked it up on the road?”
“How surprising! Did you win something big today?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, come here! You deserve a kiss for that reward!”

Lian quickly turned his head away.

Watching his parents’ display of affection was almost like seeing an orc and a goblin kiss—it was painful to the eyes.
Still, although they treated their only son with discipline, their marital bond was excessively good.
It was curious that they never had another child.

Moreover, during the busy harvest season, his father ordered Lian to run errands while he spent his time gambling at the tavern. Truly a model head of the household.

“Hey, you!”

Smack!

Lian felt the familiar sting of his father’s hand across the back of his head.

If only he could just call him by name—it would be so much simpler.
He could never understand why his father used the back of his head as a doorbell.

“What is it, Father?”
“Go to the windmill right now.”
“Eh? At this hour?”
“Yes. I left the sacks of wheat there earlier and forgot about them.”

Lian furrowed his brows.

The miller would probably have gone home by now. This errand was obviously going to be a wasted trip.

“If I go now, Milton won’t be there. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“You dare talk back after I said it nicely? Hurry up and go!”

His father rolled up his sleeves, threatening as if he would punch him at any moment.

But strangely, this time, he didn’t actually strike. He only gestured.
He must be in a good mood after winning big at the gambling table.

“Don’t argue, just go.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”

Still, Lian had no idea when a punch might come flying. He reluctantly hurried off.

Before heading to the windmill, he stopped by the barn to grab a sickle, fastening it to his belt.
Something about the morning’s events left him with a lingering unease.

“Hope it’s just my imagination.”

But if anything were to happen, the whispers in his mind would surely warn him, as usual.

He hurried toward the windmill before the sun completely set.

Arriving at the windmill, Lian blinked in surprise at an unexpected sight.

Faint light glimmered through the half-open door.

“What’s this? I’ve never seen the lights on here before.”

Could it be that his father knew about this and sent him on purpose?
If so, he would avoid the wasted trip he had expected.

“What’s going on, Mr. Milton? Are you suddenly being diligent just because the future lord is here?”

As Lian pushed the door open, he froze.

A young man in extravagant clothing, completely out of place, sat confidently by the table—the very future lord.
But there were no knights guarding him.

“Apologies, my lord. Perhaps you were expecting someone else… I must have made a mistake…”
“Stop. I never told you to leave.”

Lian tried to quietly retreat, but couldn’t.

He finally realized his father hadn’t won anything big at the gambling table.
That wretched man had sold his only son.

“Amazing. From afar I doubted my eyes, but to think such a gem was hidden in this countryside.”

Goosebumps ran down Lian’s spine.
Not only was the young lord’s tone slick, but his gaze was slimy and unsettling.

Yet more importantly, the reddish fingernail marks on the lord’s neck confirmed Lian’s suspicions.

There was no doubt—this man had killed Nora.
But why?

“Take off your clothes. That’s an order.”
“Eh…?”

He couldn’t possibly mean a search of his body.

The young lord tried to act dignified, but desire already protruded visibly.

Now Lian understood exactly what had happened to Nora.

“I won’t say it twice. Take them off.”
“Isn’t there some misunderstanding? I am a man, after all.”
“That doesn’t matter.”

A sudden crisis of chastity. Lian felt like shouting all the curses he knew.

“I said I won’t repeat myself! Don’t make me suffer like a dead woman!”

Click.

The young lord brandished a blade, reflecting like a mirror, threatening him.

But strangely, despite the danger, Lian didn’t hear the morning’s warning whispers.

Had he relied too much on the mysterious voice for sensing danger?

If not…

“No.”
“What?”
“I said I will not take off my clothes.”

The lord’s eyes widened.

“How dare you? You have no right to refuse.”
“Nor do you, my lord. Not under the law of this land.”

Lian stood with his hands behind his back, meeting the young lord’s gaze without fear.
A proud stance that left him unshaken.

Slowly, humiliation and anger crept across the lord’s face.

“Arrogant fool! What right do you have to speak of the law before me?”
“So, my lord, are you aware that your son behaves this way?”
“Silence!”

Instead of drawing his sword, he stepped forward angrily and gripped Lian’s slender neck.

He probably did the same to Nora.

The blade was ornamental—too polished to be a real threat.

“You little brat has lost all sense of fear! Let’s see how far you’ll go!”

At that moment, confusion flickered across the lord’s face, and he stumbled back.

But it was already too late.
Blood had already begun to drip from the sickle in Lian’s hands.

“Eek…! Ahh!”

Bright red blood gushed from the wound in the lord’s neck.
The jugular must have been cut, preventing even a proper scream.

Even if he tried to draw his sword, his bloody hands made it slip uselessly.

“You should’ve drawn your sword from the start, you idiot.”
“Hii…! Hii…!”

Even if he succeeded, his body would still grow cold.

Seconds passed.
Inside the windmill, only one breath could be heard.

Lian wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, exhaling slowly.
He had killed someone but felt surprisingly detached.

There was no thrilling sense of revenge for his childhood friend.
Only a vague dread about what would happen next.

“There’s no choice but to run, then.”

Modern ideas of self-defense wouldn’t matter.

A lowly serf killing a lord’s son? It was a capital crime deserving total annihilation.

If he fled now, the lord would surely turn the village upside down as an example.

“What good is staying in a village that can’t even protect one child?”

But that wasn’t Lian’s concern.

Lian walked south without a plan.

His final destination was the neighboring Kingdom of Kastel, far to the south.
A country at war with Bordia for decades—a perfect refuge for a noble-killer.

But Lian, who had grown up his whole life in a remote village, had no proper knowledge of the route.
Moreover, he had to avoid the lord’s pursuit, so he couldn’t follow the main roads.
But going too deep into the forest would mean certain death by monsters.
Even if he reached the border safely, it was still a battlefield.

His solution? Stowaway.
He knew of a small fishing village somewhere south, even if he’d never been there.
It was the source of the village’s only seasoning—pickled fish—and secretly supplied the village head’s wine.

As a farmer, he knew the climate wasn’t suitable for grapes.

Money for the passage wasn’t a problem.
He had gathered valuables, including the lord’s sword, from the corpse.

The major problem: the escape route was predictable to the knights.

“Damn it. How many guards are in a village this small?”

After five sleepless days, he saw soldiers stationed at the entrance, commanded by knights.

With his conspicuous appearance, he had no confidence to just push through.

“Hmm… I didn’t want to do this…”

Hiding in the bushes, he surveyed the village.
It was time to show the wisdom of a villager.

“There it is, leper grass! Still grows here!”

He crushed the leaves and smeared the juice on his face.
This plant, boiled, also helped remove blood stains, earning it the nickname “leper grass.”
A powerful natural bleach, it had to be handled carefully, but he used it in reverse.

Soon, a maddening itch spread across his face.

“Ugh… it’s coming…!”

His face swelled red and blotchy, like it had been stung by a swarm of bees.

He rinsed off the remaining juice in the stream and wrapped his face with torn cloth as a bandage.
Then, he boldly approached the entrance of the fishing village.

“Hey, kid. Stop right there.”

A soldier immediately called out.

“Yes? What’s the matter?”
“Why is that on your face? Suspicious. Take it off.”
“Uh… it might look ugly…”

Pretending to hesitate, Lian pulled off the bandage.
The swollen red skin was blistered and horrifying.

“Ugh…! Gross!”

The soldier recoiled as if seeing a diseased monster.

He whispered to his companion:

“I thought he was supposed to be a pretty boy?”
“Yes, that’s what I heard.”
“Hm. Then this leper kid isn’t him.”
“Still… can we let him through?”
“Who cares? This isn’t even a city.”

No one outside the village would know about leper grass.
The soldiers were convinced, seeing someone so different from the description.

Even in this small village, they didn’t care about hygiene.
After all, they weren’t stationed here to guard the village.

“Fine. Go ahead, kid.”
“Yes, thank you.”

And so, after enduring days of itching, Lian successfully entered the village.

A small tavern tucked in a corner of the dock.
Instead of a signboard, a tin cup hung at the entrance.

Lian entered and looked around.
Aside from a drunkard asleep in the corner since midday, there were no other customers.

“Eating here?”

The tavern owner spoke curtly while cleaning the table.

“Is this where smugglers store their barrels? I need a boat to take me to Kastel.”

The owner scrutinized Lian with droopy eyes.
With his tattered clothes and wrapped face, the man frowned openly.

“You little fool. Haven’t you noticed all the soldiers in the village these past few days?”
“I saw them, yes.”
“And yet you want to go to enemy territory? Are you insane?”
“That’s why I came here instead of the port.”

The village head, slightly tipsy from wine, had whispered the secret to him.
Even he hadn’t believed it until seeing the tin cup.

“I’m sorry, but this business has been closed for a long time.”

The owner raised his empty right arm.
Apparently, he had been caught smuggling and punished by losing it.

“So this is why the village head couldn’t enjoy wine recently.”

“Will this be enough to reopen your business?”

Lian pulled a gold ring with a large ruby from his pocket and showed it.
The owner’s previously dull eyes suddenly lit up.

“Stolen?”
“I received it as an heirloom.”
“Well… it doesn’t really matter where it came from.”

As the owner reached for it, Lian quickly withdrew the ring, shaking his head.

“Getting me to my destination comes first.”

In this sort of illegal deal, payment always comes after the service.

The owner hesitated briefly, then grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.

“Just so you know, no change will be given.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure I arrive safely.”
“We leave at dawn. Don’t be late. That bastard will be waiting at the dock.”

The owner gestured to the drunkard dozing in the corner.
One of his legs was a prosthetic.

“Then, I’ll leave it to you.”

Lian smiled.

Soon, he would be free from his wretched serf status.
A new life as a free man was about to begin.