Lesta had killed five pirates, and impaled a sixth with her black great sword.

Once she was gone, the eight survivors began inching towards their weapons, thinking that they might stand a chance with only Eldrian left.

However, when Eldrian drew his sword without turning around and faced the sea, they froze. A deep blue aura rippled along the blade.

“Luna, go bring Sandy and Leo.”

The great white wolf disappeared into the distance. Eldrian didn’t look back at the pirates; he simply touched the sand with his energy-shimmering sword.

Despite the condensed aura surrounding the blade, the sand didn’t scatter or sink — instead, it formed delicate, precise lines.

The pirates watched in silence, realizing how precise Eldrian’s swordsmanship was. They held their breath, quietly accepting whatever fate awaited them.

After all, he had prevented Lesta from killing them, so if they obeyed him now, their lives might be spared.

It wasn’t long before Cassandra and Leonel arrived. Leonel took one look at the carnage along the shore and let out a low whistle.

“She killed quite a few.”

Cassandra knelt to examine the corpses, then looked up.

“You didn’t kill them, did you, Young Lord?”
“No.”
“The Mercenary King, then?”
“Yes.”
“I heard she can’t use sword aura.”

Even a well-trained knight would find it difficult to defeat multiple opponents without the aid of sword energy. Yet when Lesta cut them down with her black great sword, there was not a sound.

‘But if she really is Dominic…’

Eldrian now half-believed that the legendary silver-masked Dominic and Lesta were one and the same.

‘Then her aura should be red.’

Ordinary sword aura was blue in hue, sometimes pale as the sky, sometimes dark as the sea, but always blue.

‘Is she hiding her aura so Blackwood doesn’t realize she’s still alive? But if she’s concealing it, how…?’

‘Could something like that even be possible?’

When Eldrian failed to respond, Cassandra simply got on with her work. Using thin yet unbreakably strong cord, she tied up the surviving pirates one by one. Then she boarded the small ship to check for any stragglers and dragged out two more pirates who had been hiding in a corner, trembling with fear.

Meanwhile, Leonel was prying open the crates holding the slaves.

The sight inside was wretched. The people crammed into those boxes were gaunt with hunger and reeked of rot and sweat. Their skin clung to their bones and many were bruised or covered in welts. Some were coughing weakly from fever or infection.

As soon as they were pulled out, they dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground — an ingrained reflex, as if they were worshipping gods.

Eldrian’s brows knit. So these are the ones Lesta saved.

If she stayed, she could have taken credit for saving them, earning their gratitude and perhaps even their loyalty. Some might have sworn fealty to her and a few might have turned out to be talented.

However, Lesta hadn’t lingered for gratitude or recognition. She only demanded that the pirates face the punishment they deserved, and then she walked away.

She didn’t care about praise, glory or reward.

She was just like silver-masked Dominic, who vanished after surrendering all the glory to the Dominic the world still revered.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

It was midsummer. Lesta had insisted on roasting sweet potatoes over a campfire, of all things.

Beside her, Nestor said,

“The navy’s been in an uproar lately.”
“Mm.”

Lesta poked the fire with a stick, looking entirely unconcerned.

Across from her, Toma sat crouched with his chin resting on his hands.

“I heard the pirates caught during the slave raid gave up the location of their main ship. They’re planning to wipe them out completely.”

Two weeks had passed since the pirate incident.

A few days earlier, knights under the command of the Young Lord of Sunray had raided a hidden slave market on the outskirts of Revron City.

The operation had been thorough, every escape route sealed off, every participant captured.

Among those arrested were not only common criminals but also several nobles, some from houses of considerable influence. Eldrian had reportedly declared that there would be no leniency, regardless of rank or bloodline.

Of course, discontent was rising among the nobility, but instead of engaging them, Eldrian focused his efforts on eradicating the pirates.

To Lesta, that resolve, the willingness to defy his own class for justice felt like a gesture meant to win her trust, and she found herself quietly pleased.

‘But if he truly punishes the nobles without distinction, Sunray will face political backlash.’

Lesta didn’t want to make things difficult for Sunray. If she was to bring down Blackwood, Sunray had to remain steady.

In truth, she wanted to sl*ughter every noble who bought and sold human lives, but Nestor had taught her that there were times when one had to retreat.

Reaching toward the fire where the sweet scent of roasting filled the air, Lesta stretched out her hand. Before her fingers could touch the flames, Toma gasped and grabbed her wrist.

“Boss! Don’t do that! Use the tongs!”
“I didn’t bring any.”
“Then I’ll get them! It’ll take two seconds! Honestly, why do you treat your body like it’s disposable? Lieutenant, keep an eye on her, don’t let her burn herself again!”

Lesta listened to Toma’s scolding with a faint smile.

Once he had hurried off to fetch the tongs, she said quietly,

“I’m going to see the Young Lord. Want to come?”

Nestor hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“No.”
“Alright then. I’ll be back soon.”
“What about your sweet potato?”
“Save mine.”

She said, though she knew full well Toma would eat it before she returned.

Murmuring under her breath, Lesta stepped out and headed towards the estate Eldrian stayed.

When she told the gatekeeper she wished to see the Young Lord of Sunray, one of them rushed inside and soon returned with a man who looked to be in his thirties.

“I’m Corvan Weaver, the butler.”

He bowed politely before leading her in. Unlike others who had met the famed Mercenary King for the first time, he didn’t sneak glances at her or stare.

From his composed, dignified manner, Lesta could sense the refinement of a true noble household — a world away from the rough camaraderie of her mercenaries.

The long, ornate corridor smelled pleasant, with a soft fragrance carried on the air.

“It smells nice.”

Corvan looked a little surprised but smiled warmly.

“There’s a sachet hidden behind the curtain over there—it’s lavender.”

“I see.”

“If you like it, shall I prepare one for you to take when you leave?”

“Is that… allowed?”

“Of course. You’re an honored guest.”

“An honored guest…”

Lesta had never been treated like this before. The words made her feel uneasy and, out of habit, she rubbed her forearm, feeling her skin prickle.

They reached the reception room in silence.

“Young Master, I’ve brought the Mercenary King.”

“Come in.”

The light, easy tone took Lesta by surprise. She frowned slightly and looked at Corvan, who was still smiling calmly.

“The Young Lord is away. The Second Young Master is receiving you instead.”

‘The second son?’

Lesta blinked, feeling unsettled. Did Sunray even have a second son?

She had done her research when she had planned to use him as an ally. There should only be one heir.

As she considered this, the door to the reception room opened. Without meaning to, she stepped inside and met the eyes of the man lounging on the sofa.

He had dark gold hair. His eyes were the color of a tiger’s: bright and sharp. He had a slender jawline and thin, vivid red lips that curved into a smooth, dangerous smile. Between them, a flash of elongated canines caught the light.

“Hello.”

The moment he spoke, she remembered the name, Leonel Sunray, the second son.

‘Ah. Right. There was a younger brother.’

Leonel gestured toward the seat opposite him.

“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

He was nothing like Eldrian. Where Eldrian’s presence was radiant, Leonel’s was sweet—sticky, almost cloying, like caramel that clung to the skin.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

“How have you been?”

Lesta studied Leonel for a moment before narrowing her eyes.

“Have we met before?”

“No, but I’ve heard about you from my brother. It almost feels like I know you already. Am I being too familiar?”

“Yes.”

Leonel chuckled softly.

“You’re honest. I like that. But I can’t help it—I’m a sociable person.”

Lesta rubbed her arm again. The sensation that crept up her arm this time felt different to when Corvan had called her an honored guest. It wasn’t warmth, but an uneasy prickling sensation as if invisible threads were brushing against her.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Then… a skin rash?”

“No. Just… something.”

She couldn’t quite put a name to the feeling, but then, as suddenly as it had come, it vanished. It was as if the pressure that had filled the entire room had been lifted all at once.

Knock, knock.

Almost on cue, a maid entered carrying a tea set. The faint aroma of tea leaves spread through the air as she set down the cups with grace and silence, before quietly retreating.

Leonel smiled as he lifted his cup.

“Drink. There’s no poison in it.”