“Are you alright now?”

“Oh, yes. You can put me down.”

Testing her strength by wiggling her toes once, she soon stepped onto the same damp, squelching ground.

Thanks to the subordinate’s quick wits, he adjusted his posture to make it easier for Raylin to see Kertan’s younger sister, allowing her to check the girl’s condition.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Raylin murmured an apology to the unconscious girl as she gently lifted the strands of hair that partially covered her face.

“Ha…”

A sigh escaped her lips before she even realized it.

Even at a glance, the girl was frighteningly thin, her complexion literally ashen.

She might not have been alive if they had been even a little later.

No… Even in Re.Vil.Bre, she had still been alive when they found her much later than this…

At that thought, a bitter taste spread through Raylin’s mouth like she had chewed on gall.

Perhaps she had died not long after being rescued.

Raylin hadn’t paid much attention to what became of Kertan’s sister, so she couldn’t be sure. But knowing Kertan, even if his sister had died, he would have repaid the favor of finding her by willingly becoming Catherine’s tool.

As a mere reader, she had never known the actual aftermath of the novel. And if the reality of the untold story was as bleakly realistic as this, it was no wonder she was left with an uneasy feeling.

After gently brushing the girl’s forehead and cheek, Raylin finally spoke to Aiger’s subordinate, whom she had yet to acknowledge appropriately.

“Make sure she’s not in pain… No, treat her as gently as possible.”

Following Raylin’s words, Aiger gestured at his subordinate with his chin.

“You heard her? She’s to be sent to the Greuga Ducal Estate, so ensure she’s properly protected. Handle the cleanup as well. I have to go somewhere for a bit. It won’t take long.”

“Oh, of course! Leave it to me!”

Aiger’s expression twisted with displeasure at his subordinate’s smug grin. Just as he was about to glare, the man sidled closer and whispered,

“You two enjoy your time together! Don’t worry; I’ll care for everything—oof, mmmph!”

Behind Aiger, who had grabbed and nearly crushed the subordinate’s mouth as if to rip it off, Raylin was checking her firearm.

The clicking sound of the empty cylinder was oddly satisfying, leaving her feeling slightly empty.

Whenever people heard that she not only had a hobby of shooting guns but also studied firearms, their reactions were almost always the same.

“As expected of the young lady of Greuga.”

They would say this with creased eyes, barely suppressing their laughter, their lips subtly twisted.

“How generous of you to waste money on something so unprofitable.”

A mixture of sarcasm, envy, inferiority, and ridicule—an insinuation that she was squandering money on a useless endeavor.

Tch. If they knew that despite being weak and untrained, she had still managed to protect herself with a gun, they wouldn’t say such things.

It was a shame she couldn’t boast about it.

Not only did she lack friends to share it with, but it would do no good for the precious daughter of a ducal family to have rumors spread about her firing guns in the back alleys.

‘Well, at least I can tell Lady Mifaro about it.’

The storm of emotions that had surged within her after pulling the trigger inside a building had already subsided.

“Well done.”

Raylin nodded at the low, calm voice that brushed past her ear.

That man would never become her nightmare.

Having wrapped up the filthy business surrounding Kertan’s sister relatively quietly, Aiger and Raylin set off toward the location provided by the subordinate—a house where Lady Mifaro was being held.

It was time to put an end to this so-called elopement, which was nothing more than an abduction.

***

Bang! Crash.

The deafening roar of an entire wall section being blown apart resounded through the alley.

It was common for commotions to break out in the backstreets—so much so that people were sick of them happening daily. But this noise was far too loud and disruptive to ignore simply.

As a result, the people filling Lady Mifaro’s ears with colorful curses every night, dawn, and morning widened their eyes in shock and began peeking their heads out one by one.

Wasn’t the source of the loud noise in a place usually difficult to approach because of that mutt-like brute who guards it like a watchdog?

“Did that guy finally meet his match?”

“Who knows? Whoever it is, I just hope they beat him to a pulp…”

The ones who had been peeking out while snickering immediately lowered their heads and withdrew into the darkness, as if by some unspoken agreement.

No matter how run-down the house was, the sight of one side of the wall shattered as if it had exploded made it clear—getting caught in this mess would leave them nothing but dust.

It’s not the strong who survive, but the survivors who are strong. In a place where this truth was evident every moment, the instincts of those who had lived this long were precise.

Bang! Crash!

As one side of the wall collapsed, sending wooden debris flying, a muscular figure was flung through the air—only to suddenly halt.

Of course, not by choice.

Aiger had caught up in a single step, seizing the knight by the throat. His deep blue eyes, terrifyingly calm and unreadable, gazed down at him.

The knight, struggling desperately to pry Aiger’s grip from his throat, barely managed to draw in a breath—

“Khahhk!”

—before Aiger slammed his face straight into the wall.

Crunch.

An unsettling sound, like something being ground apart that should never be, echoed as a crude smear of blood marked the surface.

Even as half of his face burned with unbearable pain, the seasoned knight mustered his strength, pushing off the wall with his legs.

Blood dripped down his chin as he finally freed himself from Aiger’s grasp.

Wiping away the crimson liquid that kept blurring his vision, the knight glared at the man who had appeared out of nowhere and tossed him around like a rag doll.

His opponent was completely covered in a tattered, stained robe. A hood pulled deep over his face and a mask drawn up past his nose made it impossible to guess his identity.

One thing, however, was certain—this was no mere back-alley thug.

No matter how much some criminals boasted about slaughtering dozens in the slums or cutting down enemies on the battlefield, to a knight who had spent at least fifteen years in rigorous training to kill efficiently and professionally, they were nothing more than small fry.

And he knew himself to be a knight of considerable skill.

He wasn’t foolish, either.

He understood tactics—what movements would be advantageous in battle.

And he had instincts.

Those who made a living wielding swords in matters of life and death often called it a sixth sense, but in truth, it was the ability to read the signs of danger, honed through learning and experience.

That was why he could feel it every morning when he set out to fulfill the unfathomable requests—no, commands—of Catherine Sillion.

A sense of foreboding.

He had no idea what the purpose of these tasks truly was.

All he knew was his duty to “check on a sick woman confined in a certain place”—a simple task he had no reason to refuse.

Today, too, he had been on his way to see the woman as usual when he sensed the ominous air and immediately returned home.

Should he move to a different place? But he had nowhere else to go yet.

If his lady agreed, they could perhaps relocate to a secluded villa owned by the Mifaro family…

His foreboding feeling became reality as he wrestled with these thoughts and returned to the home where the young lady he cherished resided.

Through his blood-blurred vision, he saw the person who had done this to him.

The one who had subdued him before he could draw his sword left him in this pitiful state.

Even though he knew the answer was meaningless, the knight still asked,

“Who… are you? Could you be from the Mifaro family—”

“There’s no need for you to know.”

Aiger cut him off before he could finish, shaking the blood from his hand.

As the suffocating, overwhelming killing intent radiating from Aiger bore down on him, the knight clenched his teeth.

What could he do against such an impossibly powerful foe whose identity and motives remained unknown?

“Listen well. When you encounter something like this, you must run. No matter what.”

“Huh? But a knight’s honor—”

“You must uphold your honor when the situation calls for it! But in this world, there are far more times when it doesn’t. You’ll understand when the time comes.”

He recalled those words now that had long been rusting away in a corner of his memory—advice from the knight he had once served as a squire.

‘So this was what he had meant.’

That ill-tempered knight, whose skills weren’t even that remarkable and who met an unfortunate end, had still given him useful advice.

He had to escape.

But fleeing alone meant nothing.

He had to take the young lady—

His thoughts ended abruptly.

“Khahk! Aaaaghhh!”