SHV 10

Episode 10

What Happened in Tilong (2)

“Why do you keep making me work? I need to earn money to pay taxes!”

Marco complained to me with a sulky expression.

We had taken a decent lodging in Tilong. The White siblings had also decided to stay with us—of course, without their consent.

“Are we really allowed to sleep here today?”

Julian looked up at me with sparkling eyes. I briefly thought, he even looked kind of cute when he was all dirty, but now that he was properly washed and wearing clean clothes, I could understand why Marco was such a brother-obsessed idiot.

For kids like this to be involved in such things… this country was seriously messed up.

“Yeah. You can stay here while I’m in Tilong.”

“Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah. Really and truly.”

“Big brother! Did you hear that?”

At Julian’s question, Marco—who had been sulking—swallowed his irritation and nodded. He clearly didn’t like me, but if his little brother was happy, he seemed willing to go along with it.

“Go to bed early today. We’ve got somewhere to go tomorrow.”

“You’re making us guide you again?”

“You’ll earn your keep. Nothing in this world is free.”

Marco snorted loudly with a “hmph!”

“Do we get breakfast too?”

Julian asked with a blissfully happy face. He was still at an age where as long as he ate and slept well, everything was fine.

“Yeah. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If you’re hungry, just tell me.”

I patted Julian’s head as I spoke.

Julian smiled brightly and said thank you. Marco’s eyes widened as he watched. He clearly didn’t like someone else touching his little brother’s head.

“Wash up and go to sleep. Orleans will wake you tomorrow morning. If anything happens at night, come downstairs immediately.”

I ignored Marco’s reaction and spoke in a commanding tone. Marco muttered complaints, but I didn’t bother listening. It was obvious that following me would be far safer than doing things his way.

“Did you get what I asked for?”

I asked Orleans as I came down from the second floor.

“Yes. As you said, Tilong really does have a wide variety of weapons.”

“Of course. It’s a war zone, and still a mess. No wonder even kids like that were running around with guns.”

Orleans looked impressed, saying, “As expected of you, hyung.”

Then he brought over a large leather case.

“But… why did you want a sword like this? There are sabers, rapiers, even good cutlasses available.”

Instead of answering, I opened the case and checked the weapon inside.

A woldo—a Korean-style sword. I had specifically asked Orleans to find this.

I could have used a more common Western sword. But I chose something more familiar.

I had learned kendo. I thought that if I was going to create a protagonist who uses swords, I should at least understand swordsmanship. I had even considered learning fencing, but couldn’t find a proper academy, so I ended up at a kendo dojo instead. Even though my novel failed, I stuck with kendo for about three years.

If I combined that with the sword techniques already embedded in Karayan’s body, I might be able to perform better.

“Is this the sword you wanted, hyung?”

Orleans asked as I examined it.

“Yeah. Looks like you found the right one.”

“I’m glad.”

“You should carry a gun. This city is unpredictable.”

At my words, Orleans went pale. Even if he had learned how to use one, he wasn’t used to combat.

“If I had known, I would’ve bought a pistol for myself too.”

“Not a pistol. Something like what the White siblings use would be better. Why not try that?”

“They’ll hate it though… By the way, the party sent a telegram.”

“A telegram? Why suddenly?”

Unless it was about the National Assembly being moved up, there was no reason for the party to contact me.

“Councilman Tonali is dead.”

An unexpected development.

“Cause of death?”

“Drowning. They say it looks like suicide, but the body was too decomposed to confirm.”

“So it might not be suicide.”

I had been certain Tonali was the one who tried to eliminate me. I knew his fatal secret. He had been colluding with royalists and gaining illicit benefits.

To protect that, killing me would have been the only option.

I had already sent information about Tonali to Nuki, who had been gathering evidence for a formal trial.

But now Tonali was dead.

It wasn’t suicide. A man who tried to have me assassinated to protect his gains wouldn’t just kill himself after one failure.

So he was likely killed by someone else. Royalist associates? Either way, this was not good news.

“Orleans.”

“Yes?”

“From tomorrow, carry a gun at all times.”

If the group that targeted me was connected to Tonali’s killer, another assassination attempt would soon follow—more precise, more dangerous than before.

Tilong – later

“Wouldn’t it be better to just hire mercenaries?”

That was all Orleans kept saying on the way to the Asiria Farm.

“Tilon mercenaries are good fighters. You’ve got money, sir. Just hire them and give Marco his gun back.”

Marco echoed the same sentiment.

I responded to both with a sigh.

“Wow! There are so many grapevines! Can I eat them?”

Julian pointed at the vineyard spread across the field.

“If you want to, then eat them.”

I gave Julian a gentle smile that Marco and Orleans couldn’t see. Both of them frowned, clearly thinking it was unfair.

Soon, we arrived in front of the Asiria Hotel at the center of the farm.

“Wow… it’s huge.”

It was practically a small castle.

The Asiria Hotel had been built to honor Yaron, the son of Yeheye.

Yaron appeared 300 years after Yeheye disappeared. He claimed to be Yeheye’s son and said he had come to spread his will.

This place was where Yaron first received his disciple. Back then, it had been a humble house, but over time it became a tourist attraction, rebuilt into a massive hotel.

“But the maintenance is terrible.”

Orleans touched the exterior wall.

Not just the hotel—most buildings in Tilong were like this. Likely due to the religious war and lack of reconstruction, as well as the city’s decline.

“It feels kind of scary…”

Julian grabbed his brother’s hand tightly. Marco comforted him by patting his head repeatedly.

The building looked abandoned, with cobwebs and broken pieces scattered around.

I opened the hotel door.

A large lobby came into view—but there was no sign of life.

“Is this place even open?”

Orleans asked Marco.

“Yes. They don’t usually close, even if there are no guests. They say pilgrims might come anytime.”

Marco explained, but Orleans sighed and looked at me, suggesting we leave. I hadn’t explained our purpose here, so it made sense.

“No. Julian wanted grapes. We’re not leaving until he gets grapes.”

A bit unfair—but the most favored kid was my perfect excuse.

“Someone’s here.”

A man with long hair and narrow eyes walked out while wiping his hands.

“Are you staying the night?”

He asked while moving toward the counter.

Orleans looked at me.

I took a step back and observed the man.

He didn’t feel like someone who belonged here. Even his movements, his way of touching the desk—it all felt unnatural.

And there was a faint smell… different from grapes.

Better send the White siblings outside.

“You’ve got good instincts. I’ll give you 8 points.”

The man’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Orleans! Take the kids outside!”

As soon as I sensed danger, the man drew his sword and attacked.

I rolled away, dodging.

I had expected an ambush, but not this fast.

I had left my sword behind because I thought this place would be safe…

“After getting rid of that so-called councilman, what should we do with the kids and the useless little brother?”

The man swung his blade arrogantly.

Not worth responding to. I just needed to survive.

A rusty sword hung on the wall behind him. If I could reach it—

“Thinking too hard? You’ll die anyway.”

His smug face made me furious—but that arrogance might be useful.

“Who sent you?”

“Me? Who do you want it to be?”

“Let me guess. Your master sent you.”

“Master? Who’s my master?”

His expression twitched.

Perfect.

“Who is my master?!”

He lunged again, enraged.

This time I didn’t dodge. I had a metal shield.

CLANG!

The shield split apart like paper.

“Say more clever things.”

“Keep talking.”

“Say more. I’ll give you your final score right before you die.”

“You won’t even get to say it.”

He attacked again—

I blocked, but his blade cut through my arm.

“Ack!”

It wasn’t a fatal wound, but it was deep.

“Let’s make this quick. Don’t struggle.”

“Thanks for not aiming for my face.”

“If I ruin your face, no one will know who died.”

He raised his sword again.

“Die!”

Bang!

A sudden spark of light.

The attack paused.

I grabbed the broken sword and faced him.

“Wow… still alive?”

“Who sent you?”

“You think you’ll find out?”

Then—

He charged again.