IBSECP 16

Chapter 16

“Are you insane?”

The moment we arrived at the cabin nestled at the foot of the vast Bjern Mountains, I grabbed Leon Kowalski by the collar.

Leon stepped back and said calmly,
“What’s the problem? You’re the one who said we needed to go somewhere private.”

Damn it.

I had said that.

‘But I didn’t mean you should gallop off in front of the knights like that.’

Even as he raised his axe to cut the reins tied to the post, I had no idea what was about to happen.

The same bastard I had known since childhood—always unlucky, always infuriating—mounted the horse effortlessly and held his hand out to me.

The knights were already approaching, and I had no time to waste.

So I had no choice but to take Leon Kowalski’s hand, and with a single powerful pull, he lifted me and placed me in front of him.

Thick forearms. Brutal strength. Impulsive actions that outpaced words.

Everything I hated most about Leon Kowalski.

“I just meant we should go to a nearby mill or something! Doing it this way makes it look like you kidnapped me.”

They’ll probably tear apart the entire village of Urd trying to find us.

I clenched my teeth in frustration.

Then—
The cold tip of a blade touched the nape of my neck.

“I’ll handle that part. You, ma’am, can start by explaining this.”

Leon held the long sword to my neck as I gripped his collar.

Startled, I released him, and he stepped back just enough to put the sword’s length between us.

I stared silently into his brown eyes.

Then my gaze drifted to the burn scars stretching from his right jaw down to his arm—long and jagged.

“Where did you get that dagger? And how do you know my name?”

Leon asked, his voice tight.

My eyes lingered on the longsword in his hand.

The blade was straight and unblemished—neither chipped nor warped.

It couldn’t even be compared to the garbage made by those damned blacksmiths.

A sword built on fundamentals.

High-purity iron ore, forged with precision and speed.

That brilliance probably emerged the moment it was quenched in oil.

“…So you’ve become a swordsmith.”

“What?”

I lightly brushed the edge of the sword with my fingertip.

The smooth blade slipped gently under my touch without a single flaw.

“Leon Kowalski. Son of a blacksmith.”

“What are you talking about…?”

His brown eyebrows shot up.

His forearm muscles tensed like he wanted to stab me right then and there.

“You didn’t even go far. You could’ve been found easily. If your father had cared, he would’ve found you. But he moved on quickly… to another woman.”

As I laughed and pulled back my hood, revealing my face, Leon scowled.

“You…”

“Already forgot my face? I don’t think I could forget yours.”

I flicked the tip of his sword with my finger.

The weakened blade shifted aside easily, and I slipped past him to look around the cabin.

“A traveling blacksmith with a cart, huh? So you did have a home.”

Axes of all kinds lined the wall—from hand axes to double-bladed ones.

Next to them were arrowheads. And beside those, a variety of swords.

So this was his hideout.

That’s what blacksmiths are.

They sell scissors and needles to village women from a cart, but they can never let go of weapons.

They ache to craft tools that rip leather, slice flesh, and tear muscle.

They risk everything—even their lives—to forge sharper, stronger steel.

And as I looked at the weapons densely arranged in Leon’s workshop, I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

Yes.

He hadn’t forgotten.

The life of a true blacksmith.

‘It was worth coming here.’

With that thought, I casually perched on a log next to his workbench and looked up at him.

As I watched the confusion in Leon Kowalski’s eyes, I said,

“Ah, I forgot to mention your real name. Leon… Mügin.”

“……!”

It must’ve been a long time since he heard that name.

[Picked him up from the woods near the Marquisate’s estate.]
[Did you see his burned arm? No way a child could’ve done that to himself. It had to be someone else. Maybe he committed some crime and was punished by the lord?]

I remembered what the blacksmiths said when I was young.

Back then, I couldn’t understand it. But now I did.

The reason was simple.

‘Because now I have Diana Isla’s memories.’

Young Leon was the son of a maid working in the Isla Marquisate.

Her name was Simone Mügin.

She had the same brown hair and eyes as Leon—a classic beauty.

Diana’s father had lusted after Simone, and though she did her best to avoid him, she couldn’t escape forever.

One night, Simone was summoned by the marquis, and she returned disheveled and distraught.

Little Diana Isla, with her pink hair, had been there too.

[That wench and her brat dared to touch my daughter’s necklace. Disfigure the woman’s face and chop off the boy’s arm as an example.]

In that moment of her father’s fury, Diana stood there—green eyes wide open.

He always told her not to look away when punishing the servants.

No useless compassion.

If you treat livestock like people, they’ll start thinking they are people.

So Diana watched it all.

She saw the red-hot iron approaching Simone’s face and heard her scream.

She saw Leon run to save his mother.

She saw Leon, thrashing wildly, until his right arm went limp and useless.

And then—Simone’s voice stopped him.

[Kill that bastard! Chop off every one of his limbs!]
[Leon! Run! Run now!]

While Simone caused chaos, Diana saw Leon stumble away.

He looked up at Diana with desperate eyes.

In that brief moment, she mouthed the words:

Right.

Your only hope is to go right.

There was a door there.

Leon fled.

And from then on, he became the Leon Kowalski I knew.

“You’re still a runaway. Then and now.”

I smiled brightly at him, even as he panted in anger.

It seemed he finally recognized my face.

“That’s right. It’s me. Diana Isla. The daughter of your enemy.”

Leon’s hands trembled as he gripped his sword.

I watched, amused.

“Do you want to kill me?”

“…”

Leon bit his lip.

“My mother…”

“She’s dead. Must’ve been a bitter end. Judging by the look on your face, you didn’t even know.”

I met his anguished eyes directly.

His grip on the sword tightened again.

He looked like he would strike any moment—
But then, he threw the sword away.

Clang.

The sound of a fine blade hitting the floor echoed.

My heart ached.

And then Leon rushed at me.

He grabbed my small frame effortlessly and slammed me against the wall.

His grip on my shoulders was crushing as he glared into my face.

“And the one who made that dagger is dead too.”

I stared back at him.

That dagger—Amin had returned it to me.

[Is this dagger yours?]

He had asked with an unreadable expression.

Just returning a lost item… why the long face?

I’ll never understand that man.

“Your mentor, your comrades, your neighbors—they’re all dead.”

I clenched my teeth.

Now that I had become Diana Isla.

I knew the truth.

It was the Marquis Isla who helped burn down our village.

That bastard, obsessed with currying favor with Valther.

“It was all my father’s doing.”

“Diana is dead?”

At that, Leon’s eyes trembled.

His brown eyes filled with disbelief.

His face turned ghostly pale, like the blood had drained from his body.

He asked again, unable to believe it.

“Did you really see her die?”

His voice shook.

And I wondered—

Did he think I was still alive?

This whole time?

But then, his rough fingers wrapped around my neck, dispelling my doubt.

“I asked you! Did you see her body?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to squeeze tightly.

I frowned.

“Does that really matter?”

“…What…”

“There are things more important than a corpse. You idiot.”

I looked up at him.

“The Marquis Isla. That man is still alive.”

“…”

“That matters more than killing me. It means you still have a chance.”

I smiled up at the man strangling me.

So hard my lips trembled.

“Unless, of course, killing his helpless daughter is really all you wanted—”

I placed my hand over his, the one around my neck, and pushed.

To tell him: Squeeze harder.

“Then go ahead. Kill me.”