Chapter 06
“Didn’t I beg you countless times not to do such reckless things? One day, you’re really going to get yourself killed!”
Though he scolded him, Papillion knew the truth.
Ulysian was not the kind of man who could turn a blind eye to injustice. He would sooner throw away his own life than do that.
That was the very reason Papillion admired and followed him. Yet at times, Ulysian’s recklessness genuinely worried him.
Holding the reins with one hand, Papillion stopped briefly and rummaged through his coat.
“I should hand in my resignation after all— Gah!”
Before he could even pull out the resignation letter, his breath caught in his throat.
Ulysian had grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him off his horse.
At the same moment, a dagger flew out from somewhere and pierced the horse’s neck. The blade had apparently been coated with poison; the horse collapsed immediately and began convulsing.
After confirming that Papillion was unharmed, Ulysian dismounted and drew his sword.
“Papillion, take my horse.”
“What?”
“It’s easier for me to fight alone than while protecting you. Ride to safety and bring reinforcements.”
It was a rational decision.
The only blade Papillion had ever handled in his life was a pen nib.
Knowing that better than anyone, he obediently mounted the horse.
“I’ll be back right away!”
Kicking the horse’s flank, Papillion rode off at full speed.
The assassins did not pursue him.
Instead, now that the witness was gone, they openly revealed themselves and aimed for Ulysian’s life.
A smile appeared on his lips out of habit, but his eyes were filled with disdain.
“Only five? You seem to have underestimated me.”
It didn’t take long for him to block their attacks and cut down the assassins.
In fact, it was so easy that it made him suspicious.
Were they only sent to delay me for a while?
A sense of instinctive unease washed over him.
Ulysian turned around.
Just as he was about to run toward the Grand Temple—
Shing.
A chilling metallic sound rang out behind him.
He reacted instantly and twisted his body.
But he was already too late.
A razor-sharp blade had already slashed across his back.
The man who had suddenly appeared immediately tried to flee after being splattered with Ulysian’s blood.
Steadying his collapsing body, Ulysian spun around and counterattacked, putting the force of his rotation into his sword.
Clang!
The man barely blocked the strike and staggered backward.
Even as blood poured from his wound, Ulysian did not stop.
The longer the fight dragged on, the more disadvantageous it would become for the injured side.
To finish the battle quickly, he threw his weight behind his sword.
The man was driven several steps back.
The impact knocked half of his large hood aside, revealing his face.
Ash-gray hair.
Sunken brown eyes.
A pale face with a gloomy air about it.
It was someone he had seen standing beside Kildian.
“Shite Hunniswald.”
Shite’s expression twisted in surprise, as if he had never expected Ulysian to recognize him.
That momentary agitation created an opening.
The instant Shite’s stance faltered, Ulysian hooked his leg beneath him.
Losing his balance, Shite dropped his sword.
Instead of reaching for it, he lunged forward, apparently intending to engage in hand-to-hand combat and pin Ulysian down.
But Ulysian wasn’t so easy to overpower.
Grabbing Shite’s clothing, he twisted his body.
Snap.
Something broke.
A round metallic object fell into his hand.
Ulysian slipped it into his pocket and drew a dagger, pressing it against Shite’s throat.
Even through the pouring rain, he could hear hoofbeats approaching in the distance.
Papillion was returning.
Suppressing the nausea caused by blood loss, Ulysian forced his fading consciousness to stay focused.
“Every time my brother does something suspicious, reports always mention your name and Seidel Nishurvan’s.”
“…”
“I’ll personally take you to him. My brother will be delighted to see you.”
He had expected resistance.
Instead, Shite Hunniswald was surprisingly docile.
Not only that—
His lips trembled as he let out a strange, eerie smile.
Ulysian sensed danger and tried to move.
At that moment, a powerful impact struck his chest.
Through his blurring vision, he saw Shite Hunniswald’s retreating figure.
…And his own body lying on the ground.
What… is this…?
He was floating in midair like a ghost, translucent and insubstantial, looking down at his fallen body.
Again and again he tried to return to it.
But each time he was repelled, as though some invisible barrier blocked him.
Worse still, his consciousness was fading rapidly.
Am I… dying like this?
He saw Papillion rushing toward him with a group of soldiers.
But before Ulysian could do anything—
“He’s still alive! Quickly, take him back to the estate!”
Hearing Papillion’s desperate shout, he lost consciousness.
“…”
When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar woman.
Slightly drooping eyes.
Large, innocent violet irises.
Soft light-blue hair that flowed in gentle waves.
Delicate, finely shaped features.
She radiated an adorable charm even while sitting still.
But Ulysian did not let his guard down.
He immediately subdued her.
Her slender body tilted effortlessly from the simple motion.
It was almost embarrassingly easy.
Still, Ulysian gave no sign of surprise.
An assassin?
Bathed in moonlight, her face was fair and pure.
Her clear eyes held no hostility.
He had encountered countless assassins since childhood, but never one who looked this innocent.
For a moment, his tension nearly eased.
She’s trying to lower my guard before striking.
She was probably the type who relied on beauty as a weapon.
Steeling himself, he subtly pressured Amaryntis.
However, the misunderstanding didn’t last long.
This… isn’t my body.
He had become someone else entirely.
And of all people—
He had ended up inside the body of the very culprit responsible for this situation.
Is this a dream?
He wanted to deny reality, but his senses told him otherwise.
Perhaps because of the sheer absurdity of the situation, his thoughts kept grinding to a halt.
Deliberately, Ulysian forced himself to focus on practical matters.
The assassins were lying in wait beforehand. The only person who knew I was going to meet the Pope was the butler.
Which meant information had leaked from inside.
He didn’t want to suspect the butler who had served him loyally since childhood…
But perhaps the man had betrayed him.
Or there might be a spy hiding among his people.
His mind cooled.
Confusion gave way to sharp reason.
For the time being, I’ll live as Shite Hunniswald and investigate both my brother’s plans and the traitor.
Until he found a way to return to his own body, Ulysian decided to gather information while living as Shite Hunniswald.
To do that, he first needed to learn what kind of person Shite was.
Fortunately, Shite’s wife was standing right in front of him.
If she’s his wife, she should know him well.
Before steering the conversation toward subtle questioning, Ulysian intended to lower her guard with casual conversation.
But then—
“Who are you?”
Amaryntis suddenly asked the question.
* * *
It was quiet.
As the silence stretched on, her body tensed.
She cautiously glanced at Shite.
A faint smile rested on his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
His legs were casually crossed, and every now and then his foot lazily swung.
That was enough to convince her.
As expected, the amnesia story is a lie.
A person with genuine amnesia would naturally be confused if someone questioned their identity.
Yet Shite showed no sign of agitation whatsoever.
After much thought, she arrived at two possibilities.
1. Someone else is pretending to be Shite.
It sounded plausible, but it didn’t seem likely.
Shite’s palms were covered in scars, as though they had been slashed repeatedly.
And the man before her had the exact same scars.
Sure, someone could theoretically recreate similar scars.
But if they went to such lengths, how could they fail to know that Shite was left-handed?
So the idea that someone else was impersonating him made no sense.
That left only one possibility.
2. He’s using amnesia as an excuse to reveal his true nature.
That seemed the most likely explanation.
The problem was that she had no idea why he had hidden his true self before—or why he had chosen to reveal it now.
Is he trying to drag me into something dangerous? Maybe something involving all that blood he came home covered in? Please don’t let it be that…
With a troubled expression, she looked at the crumpled coat lying on the floor.
Then he asked:
“It seems I’m quite different from how I was before I lost my memories.”
What now? Why is he asking that?
It’s not like he actually has amnesia.
Still, she forced a smile.
Pretending not to notice would probably keep her from getting involved in troublesome matters.
“That’s right. You were left-handed. But now you seem to use your right hand more often.”
“And that’s why you doubted my identity?”
