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Chapter 39
“It’s a tonic I made myself.”
As handed cups to the two of them.
“Ugh…!”
Leto gagged at the smell, his big body collapsing forward.
Noah recoiled in shock, glaring at As with a look full of betrayal.
“Don’t you think this is too much? We went through all that trouble and you give us poison?!”
“You must be really tired. I told you, it’s not poison, it’s a tonic. You just didn’t understand.”
In the end, As forced the two of them to drink it.
“Unlike the smell, the taste is ordinary. So finish it all.”
“E-executioner! Wait, this is—ugh!”
“Hey! With a stench like this, what kind of—ugh!”
Ugh! Uuurgh!
Noah and Leto writhed as they were practically force-fed the “energy-recovery drink filled with love,” begging for mercy.
But As only chuckled sweetly and helped them finish every last drop.
“Eeek…!”
Hiding in the hallway, Claret shivered as she peered through the crack in the door at the hellish shadows inside.
A large shadow loomed over two smaller ones, trampling and tormenting them.
“As is trying to kill Sister and Brother-in-law…!”
In the little lady’s precocious mind, a dreadful and clumsy horror novel was writing itself.
“So? It’s not as bad as you thought, right?”
As exhaled sharply through her nose and went out to clear the empty cups.
Seizing the chance, Claret returned, her face filled with worry as she checked on her sister and brother-in-law.
“…Are you dead?”
She crept in cautiously and asked in her nasal little voice.
As she approached, the stench of the tonic hit her, and she hurriedly pinched her nose.
“They’re alive…”
“V-ventilate…!”
Leto staggered over and flung the windows wide open.
Finally, the air inside, which had been worse than chemical warfare, was refreshed.
Only when the cool night breeze flowed in could they breathe again.
“Did you two do something wrong to As?”
Claret asked, finally letting go of her nose.
“Of course not.”
Noah grumbled that this was how they were treated after defending the nation, while Leto slipped outside for a moment.
When he returned, he held a long velvet-wrapped box in his arms.
“My present!”
Claret beamed.
“Sorry to disappoint, but no.”
“Aww…”
Claret pouted and poked at the unlucky box.
“This is for Noah.”
“Sis?”
“I actually meant to give it to you sooner…”
While she was explaining to Claret, Leto noticed Noah staring wide-eyed from a short distance away.
Noah’s expression was stiff—different from when he’d been force-fed earlier.
His trembling blue eyes were fixed solely on the box.
“…”
As if he already knew what was inside.
“A lot has happened, hasn’t it?”
Leto lifted the box and said to him.
“You wanted this so much, yet you’ve been acting like you’d forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget.”
Finally meeting his gaze, Noah spoke in a trembling voice.
“It’s just…”
He hesitated, then continued.
“…you were more important.”
That was the only reason he’d set aside his priorities.
The truth, once spoken, struck his conscience like a cudgel. But Noah endured the guilt and pain in silence.
Maybe—just maybe—they would approve of this change in him.
Or so he believed.
“Ehehe! Brother-in-law’s face turned red!”
Claret, who’d been listening in, piped up.
“His heart’s beating so fast it looks like it’ll pop right out. If it does, Sister-in-law, you should catch it for him!”
“Ew, gross. No thanks.”
Claret shrank back, hiding behind Noah.
Noah patted her head once, then carefully received the box from Leto.
The velvet’s smooth texture was soft beneath his hands.
Cradling it gently like a newborn, Noah turned away.
“Tell As I’m skipping dinner.”
“Where are you going, Sis?”
“To my room. I’m tired, I’ll sleep early.”
With that, Noah truly went upstairs.
A moment later, the sound of the door locking rang clear.
“…”
“…”
Left alone, Leto and Claret naturally met eyes.
“Uncle, did you do something wrong to her?”
“Now that hurts to hear.”
Leto lifted his finger to his eye, pretending to cry.
“I’ve been so obedient to Noah lately. Like a dog on a leash!”
“Doesn’t sound like it, though…”
Even to her young eyes, his excuse was suspicious.
“And what about you, Little Mistress?”
Just then, As returned to announce dinner.
“She’s mad at Uncle, so she went to bed without eating.”
“Hey, no slander, young lady.”
Leto scooped Claret up and rubbed his face against her soft cheeks.
She squealed with laughter, wriggling in his arms.
“She must be very tired…”
As murmured, gazing upstairs with concern.
“But Uncle,” Claret asked.
“Hm?”
“What did you just give her?”
“A sword.”
“…A sword?”
As’s breath quivered faintly. Leto noticed her reaction with puzzlement.
“A sword?”
Claret tilted her head.
“‘Mas’ and ‘Femina’?”
The names of the swords—known only to a select few—spilled from her lips.
Leto’s eyes flew wide.
Noah, upon entering her room, locked the door at once.
Click. She tugged the knob several times to make sure.
Then she spread a blanket over the bed and gently set the box upon it.
“Haaah…”
She repeated trembling breaths until her hands finally steadied.
Moonlight streamed through the window, bright and clear.
Entranced by the swords inside, she hadn’t even thought to light a lamp.
But the moonlight sufficed.
On the bed bathed in that sacred glow—
“…”
Noah finally lifted the lid with both steady hands.
Click.
Inside lay two swords.
Their sheaths were different: one a crimson red like blood, the other a deep oceanic blue.
Relics of a defeated nation, sealed with strings hung with golden tassels.
Noah lifted one.
The red sword—Mas—that she had once received when she’d rashly challenged Leto to fight without ranks.
She untied the sealing cord and raised the blade into the moonlight streaming in.
Running two fingers down the dulled, jagged edge, hidden engravings surfaced.
“…Cleave the profane.”
Her eyes welled as she read the words.
Unable to hold back, she returned the sword to its sheath and clutched it to her chest.
With her other arm, she grasped the blue sword still lying in the box.
“…Uuuh, hhk.”
Her sobs were ragged, broken by gasps.
“I’m sorry I’m late…”
Until she wept herself into sleep, Noah whispered ceaseless apologies—ones that would never reach their intended ears.
Mas and Femina.
In the ancient tongue of the Sisto Empire, once the world’s common language, they meant “male” and “female.”
They also referred to the treasured heirlooms of a noble family.
The two swords were owned by the head of the house and their spouse—hence, “the married blades.”
“…Though that meaning has faded now.”
The wedding was only two days away.
Shut up in headquarters, Leto was busier than ever.
There was a mountain of tasks to finish in advance—for the ceremony and for the sweet weeklong honeymoon to follow.
But at some point, his hands had stilled.
His mind was stuck on Noah’s strange behavior the past day.
“She definitely cried.”
Honestly, Leto had no attachment to the swords. He’d only kept them to catch Noah’s interest.
But to Noah, they seemed to hold far deeper meaning.
After receiving them, she had gone straight to her room and not come out until the next morning.
“Warrant Officer Fist…”
“General, please keep working!”
At his call, Warrant Officer Fist barked sharply.
“If you don’t, you’ll end up back here the morning of your wedding—or worse, during your honeymoon! You’d hate that, and if Captain takes offense—”
“Here.”
Leto placed the stack of approved papers on his desk.
“All done.”
“Huh? Wha—what?!”
“Our warrant officer… are you dropping honorifics just because I’m a younger superior? Acting shocked and speaking casually now?”
“N-no, sir! Absolutely not, sir!”
Fist checked the papers with wide eyes—they were flawless.
Leto hadn’t stopped because of neglect. He’d already finished everything.
“Well, the General never procrastinates…”
If anything, Fist was the one struggling to keep up.
“Warrant Officer.”
Instead of returning to his desk, Leto sat himself right atop Fist’s.
“Remember that day?”
“…Sir?”
“The day Captain Velo tried to leave his mark on me.”
“If you mean the day he challenged you to fight without ranks, yes. I remember.”
Fist corrected Leto’s phrasing bluntly.
Though displeased, Leto pressed on.
“…I told you to bring me Mas that day, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“Then why did you hesitate?”
“Well, that sword…”
Fist looked troubled, knowing how absurd his answer would sound.
“It’s basically useless. A broken relic with no edge left.”
For Leto to command someone to fight with it was as good as telling them to lose.
In fact, half out of mischief, that was what Leto had meant.
“But there’s a legend tied to it…”
Fist trailed off, embarrassed.
“That it can… supposedly produce something called ‘Aura.’ But it’s just a legend, sir. Nothing more.”
