HSLF 10

Chapter 10

“Waaah!”

While Dorothy was momentarily lost in thought, Lyle suddenly grabbed her arm with tremendous force and yanked her aside. At that very instant, the masked man’s dagger plunged into the spot where Dorothy had been standing. The blade carved a vicious downward arc from above, and Dorothy froze in shock. Had she stayed there, she might have been split in two. Just imagining it made her sick.

“Ugh…”

Shivering, Dorothy rubbed the arm Lyle had grabbed. Her whole body went cold, as if she’d been doused with icy water.

Death was this close. Seriously…

I still have way too much to do before I die!
I haven’t even touched Lily yet! What about my bucket list of seeing all the world’s famous horses before I die? And the fortune I planned to spend lavishly until my very last breath?

“I’m not dying like this.”

Grinding her teeth, Dorothy muttered under her breath. There wasn’t a single reason for her to die.

If anything, the only problem was that she was too outstanding and perfect—but that couldn’t be helped, could it?

What do you want me to do about being exceptional? Clenching both fists, Dorothy glared at the masked men.

“No, I can’t die!”

Kill me? Don’t be ridiculous!

Even if the masked men radiated murderous intent, they couldn’t overpower Dorothy’s fierce will to live. She scanned the surroundings, watching everything except the masked men and Lyle.

Then something caught her eye: the carriage they had arrived in.

The coachman was nowhere to be seen—he must have fled long ago. Most of the horses had bolted in terror at the clash of steel, but one remained.

Its reins were tangled with the carriage, preventing it from escaping. Its frightened whinnies rang continuously through the chaos.

Trapped, unable to flee, yet still struggling to live—just like Dorothy.

It was close enough to reach if they ran.

Dorothy pressed her lips together, thinking. A frightened, unfamiliar horse. Riding something like that through unknown mountain terrain was practically suicide. Even for a skilled rider, mounting an unfamiliar horse was dangerous—especially if you didn’t want to die from a fall.

She glanced back at the assassins crossing blades with Lyle. No matter how she looked at it, Lyle had his limits. Protecting an ordinary civilian like her while fighting like this was pushing it.

Still, it was better than getting stabbed to death. Instead of standing around and losing her life, Dorothy decided to gamble on something she might actually pull off. Horseback riding wasn’t her specialty, but she was confident in her rapport with horses.

“Mr. Lyle!”

Lyle turned at her call. The instant their eyes met, Dorothy was already in motion.

“Let me borrow your chest for a moment!”

“…?”

By the time Lyle barely managed to suppress his instinct to shield her, Dorothy was already in his arms—or rather, she had forcefully plunged into his chest. As the masked men faltered at her sudden move, Dorothy whispered rapidly into Lyle’s ear.

“Miss Dorothy?”

“See that horse that couldn’t get away?”

She barely lifted her head from his chest, keeping watch as best she could while explaining.

“Let’s escape on that. See the brown loop on the side connected to the horse? Just cut that.”

Lyle looked at her with an ambiguous expression, as if he wasn’t sure he understood. In this dire situation, with masked men attacking relentlessly, there was no time for a detailed escape plan.

Besides, Dorothy herself didn’t have any plan beyond run and ride the horse. But she had no intention of giving Lyle time to hesitate.

She simply grabbed his wrist tightly.

“Run! Now!”

They ran—desperately, with everything they had. Lyle, caught off guard, followed awkwardly with his wrist still in Dorothy’s grip.

“Stop them!”

Enraged by Dorothy’s sudden escape attempt, the masked men hurled something like throwing knives. Lyle couldn’t focus solely on running.

At least they hadn’t brought many things to throw. Considering they’d brazenly ordered them out of the carriage, they weren’t exactly model assassins.

No way I’m dying to thugs like these!

“Eek!”

One of the thrown weapons flew toward Dorothy, but it didn’t hit her.

“Miss Dorothy, are you all right?”

Lyle had deflected most of them with his sword. She’d sensed it earlier, but Lyle was surprisingly skilled with a blade.

So he wasn’t just a con artist—he was a genuinely good swordsman?

He had an aristocratic air about him, but the fact that he couldn’t even confidently reveal his family name after flirting openly bothered her. If he were a proper noble, why hide it?

What kind of person are you? she wondered, resolving to find out later. For now, she just ran with all her might. They reached the horse safely.

Perhaps their long history of life-or-death games of tag with Ropes and Lexa paid off, because Dorothy and Lyle arrived a step ahead of the masked men who had started at the same time.

Dorothy grabbed the rope connecting the horse to the carriage, and Lyle sliced through the knot in one swift motion. Dorothy then fired off a rapid plea to the trembling horse.

“Sorry to meet you like this, but you can’t throw me off, okay? If you do, you die, and I die too. I came all this way to free you, so let’s keep our word to each other. Let’s survive together. If this goes well, I’ll treat you to a hundred sacks of carrots.”

After greeting no one in particular, Dorothy calmly prepared to mount the horse.

“Does this ‘together’ include me as well?”

Lyle asked with a small laugh.

You’re laughing at a time like this?

Before Dorothy could answer, Lyle suddenly scooped her up and, like a seasoned rider, mounted the horse in one smooth motion.

“Waaah!”

Without any warning, they took off. As Dorothy reeled from the sudden jolt, Lyle held her tightly around the waist. Two people and one terrified horse plunged into mountain paths none of them had ever traveled.

“After them! Don’t let them get away!”

The shouts of the masked men gradually faded into the distance. It should be safe now—or so Dorothy thought. Even if assassins from the House of Moven continued to pursue her in the future.

Those distant worries could wait until they returned to the capital and talked it over with Ropes and Lexa. For now, survival was what mattered.

“It might rain.”

Dorothy looked up at the sky. The sunlight had been bright earlier. Did the assassins bring bad luck with them? No, don’t say that. Words can come true—she didn’t need more trouble.

She smacked her own lips and shook her head. Such clichéd tragic developments were so bad she wouldn’t even use them in her own novels. Quietly, she called out to Lyle, who was guiding the horse in silence.

“Mr. Lyle, you know…”

“……”

Why was he so quiet? As she called him again—

“Mr. Lyle?”

“Miss Dorothy.”

Perfect timing—Lyle called her at the same time.

Feeling some goodwill toward him after seeing his unexpectedly competent swordsmanship, Dorothy politely yielded the turn to speak.

More than that, she felt guilty.

Honestly, Lyle was like the shrimp caught between fighting whales—the innocent neighbor shrimp whose back got broken for no reason. Dragged into the tragedy between Dorothy and the House of Moven, he didn’t deserve this.

She couldn’t even talk about the assassins. Getting too involved might put him in further danger. It would be better if Lyle remained someone completely unrelated.

“You go first.”

“There seems to be a problem.”

Lyle spoke calmly.

“A problem? If you mean those ass— I mean, bandits, I thought we’d shaken them off. Are they still following us?”

“No. The assassins should be dealt with by now.”

Then what was the problem?

Puzzled, Dorothy turned her head back.

“Then what problem are you talking about—? Oh my god, Mr. Lyle! Are you okay?!”

She recoiled at the sight of Lyle’s pale, bloodless face as he calmly looked at her.

What? He’d seemed fine just a moment ago. Had she missed something? Was he injured?

“Stop the horse for a moment. Your face looks awful! Were you hurt somewhere? Damn it! Those cowardly pieces of trash! I should’ve sent them all to the incinerator!”

“It’s poison.”

“Yeah, so where were you— …What? What did you just say?”

For a moment, Dorothy wondered if she’d hallucinated.

Poison? Lyle’s calm expression and the shocking words didn’t connect at all.

“I’ve been poisoned. It seems to be an Emil-type paralytic toxin. So the rumors about Emil poison circulating in the capital were true. That’s useful information.”

“What did you just say?!”

What the hell was this lunatic calmly rambling about?

You’re poisoned, and this is what you’re saying?

“The paralysis has already started in my fingertips, so I expect to lose consciousness before long, if things continue like this.”

Dorothy was speechless.

“Probably within ten minutes. So, Dorothy… Miss? Ugh!”

Dorothy slammed her fists into the lunatic’s chest over and over.

This crazy bastard.

He’s about to die, and he’s politely analyzing the situation like that?!