Chapter 3
The manager told me what had happened so far.
“That child killed a mercenary under my supervision.”
As expected, he was no ordinary boy.
When I turned back in surprise, the manager shrugged.
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? That a child like that could kill a grown man—let alone a mercenary. But I saw it clearly with my own eyes.”
He continued in a grave tone.
“The mercenary did something that deserved death.”
The man had been notorious for his bad behavior. When the manager received a report that he was causing trouble at a tavern, he rushed over immediately.
“I arrived just as he threw the child across the room and drew his sword at the tavern owner. I was about to step in when the child suddenly sprang up and hurled himself forward.”
Even the manager—long accustomed to handling mercenaries—had almost missed the movement. It had been that fast.
“The moment the child climbed onto his back, the mercenary collapsed. He was stabbed with a hook used for fireplaces.”
I looked at the boy again.
‘That frail body…’
Was he about ten years old? Even accounting for poor nutrition and stunted growth, he didn’t look older than twelve or thirteen.
“When did this happen?”
“A week ago. Of course, it was reported and the investigation has already been completed.”
If that was the case, the report must have already reached Raymond. Though, given how he spent his days drifting between taverns and gambling houses, he probably hadn’t paid it any attention.
Imperial law was simple.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.
You returned exactly what you were given.
The reason was simple as well. The Empire was vast, and countless races lived mixed together. Their cultures and customs differed wildly—trying to understand and reconcile every single one of them would be nearly impossible.
So the idea was to live by observing only the bare minimum within a broad framework.
The boy had killed someone who tried to kill him. By law, he was innocent. And the authority to make that judgment lay with the lord of the land.
If this had happened when I was still governing the territory, he would have been released the very same day. But with Raymond as he was, the boy remained locked up.
“How did the tavern owner meet the child?”
“He saw him rummaging through trash because he was hungry and gave him some food. For that man, the child was a stroke of incredible luck.”
The manager hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Actually, the boy bears a slave mark. The tavern owner relinquished his claim, so for now, I’m keeping him.”
If the owner of a runaway slave was unknown, whoever captured them became the new owner—once they reported it and paid the tax. In that case, the child would legally belong to the manager.
If the boy moved fast enough to evade the eyes of someone who had once been a mercenary, it was understandable he’d be tempted. It meant the child had the makings of a mercenary.
But the manager shook his head firmly.
“I’ve never seen a creature this feral. So much so that I wouldn’t even dare try to raise him as a mercenary.”
As he let out a sigh, the boy bared his teeth at him. A low growl rumbled out—unmistakably the sound of a wild beast.
“It took all of us working together just to restrain him.”
The mercenaries standing behind him sighed as well. A few of them even had bandages wrapped around their bodies, apparently injured while subduing the child.
Then the boy pointed at me and spoke.
“Ah… you?”
“Hey! How dare you speak like that to a noble lady—!”
The manager frowned deeply, but the boy growled again.
“Doesn’t he understand the imperial language?”
“Seems not.”
“Does he speak any other language?”
“That, I don’t know. He hardly speaks at all. But he doesn’t seem slow-witted.”
More than anything, the boy’s appearance was striking.
Silver hair shimmered through layers of dried mud. A straight nose, firm lips—and above all, his eye color was mesmerizing.
The outer ring was sky-blue, deepening toward the center until it blended naturally into a black pupil.
I swallowed hard.
‘That’s an extremely rare color…’
In that instant, one person came to mind. A gaze that seemed to pierce straight through me, as if mocking me for daring to forget him.
Before I realized it, my legs went weak.
“Countess, are you all right?”
The manager asked as he supported me.
Was I all right? Of course not. Not at all.
—
There was only one person with eyes that distinctive.
Durang.
The strongest being in this world.
He was so powerful that even the Second Prince—a Sword Master—and the elite unit under his command had to attack him all at once.
The wolf-like boy grew rapidly and eventually became Shiaya’s watchdog. He always stood behind her like a rock, glaring at everyone with eyes colder than a frozen winter lake.
‘He always stared at me longer than anyone else—sharper, too.’
It seemed he had regarded me as Shiaya’s enemy.
‘Enemy, my foot. I wasn’t even a match for him.’
There was no way he didn’t know what everyone else already knew. He was a man whose thoughts were impossible to read—made all the more so because I had died first.
That was also why he was loyal to Shiaya.
Neither he nor Shiaya ever spoke about it, so rumors ran rampant. The most plausible one was that she had taken him in when he was wandering, given him a name, and that was that.
I calculated quickly.
Even if I took him in and gave him a name like Shiaya did, there was no guarantee he would become my subordinate. I pitied him—but I truly didn’t want to get entangled with that boy.
At the same time, I couldn’t allow the two of them to meet.
I had no choice. Not once I knew.
‘But he’s far too feral.’
How had Shiaya managed to tame him?
Then I recalled the tavern owner saying he’d helped the boy simply by feeding him.
‘Food is the fastest way to bond.’
I opened my basket and lifted the cloth wrapped neatly inside. A rich, savory scent of oil wafted out.
Sniff. Sniff.
The boy and the manager flared their nostrils at the same time.
It was a twisted doughnut.
One of the foods I’d recreated after returning to this world. Sugar was expensive, so I’d brushed it with maple syrup instead. The subtle sweetness worked surprisingly well.
Who could resist deep-fried dough?
I’d made it for my next appointment, but the timing was perfect.
Grrr.
…Or so I thought.
When I held the food out, the boy bared his neat teeth and grew even more guarded. Rather than warming up to me, he looked ready to hate me.
The manager shook his head.
“That’s why I gave up.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
My grand plan—softening him up with good food, giving him a name, and turning him into a reliable bodyguard—collapsed instantly.
I thought fast and came to a decision.
“I’ll buy him. How much?”
I paid the price and handed over an address.
“Please send him here.”
“Leave it to us.”
Perhaps relieved to be rid of the problem, the manager replied with an unusually bright smile.
After paying, I looked back at the boy once more. The sight of him crouched in the corner of the cell felt deeply unfamiliar. No matter how I calculated it, the numbers didn’t add up.
He wouldn’t appear until three years later.
‘How does a child grow into an adult in just a few years? He’s far too young.’
Was it some kind of superhuman growth?
Just then, the boy sniffed the air again and let out a long sigh. My gaze dropped to the basket.
‘Does he regret it?’
After hesitating briefly, I held out a twisted doughnut to the manager.
“Could you pass it through the bars for him?”
A troubled look crossed his face. I handed him another doughnut.
“This one’s for you. I made them myself.”
He hesitated, then finally succumbed to temptation. Carefully, as if afraid the feral beast might bite his hand, he slid it between the bars and quickly stepped back.
‘This is hard.’
I gave a bitter smile and turned away.
Then, from behind me, I heard a quiet voice.
“Miss…?”
It seemed my very first encounter with the strongest being in this world was already off to a rocky start.
—
After telling the mercenaries I’d hired to come to the castle that evening, I headed to my next destination.
[Golden Key Pawnshop]
Calling it a pawnshop was misleading—it was the most well-funded loan shark operation in the territory. Raymond was a regular customer there.
Making sure no one was watching, I scanned the area and slipped in through the back door.
“Welcome.”
As if he’d been waiting, the owner, Gilbert, bowed deeply.
A sharp hooked nose suited the handsome middle-aged man well. His neatly combed-back hair reflected his meticulous personality.
He had started working as a shop clerk at the age of seven, and now he was the wealthiest man in Valdif in terms of liquid assets. He was utterly cold when it came to money and clients—but astonishingly devoted to his wife.
It had been only a few days since I began my third life when I heard that his wife was suffering from a severe cough.
That must have been why I’d learned medicine in my second life.
‘Save a life and secure my own benefit!’
I’d gone straight to the pawnshop and proposed a deal: I’d cure his wife, and in return, he’d give me something other than money. He had no choice but to agree.
I asked Gilbert about his wife.
“How is she?”
“She only coughs lightly now, once in a while. It’s all thanks to you, my lady.”
She had been suffering from whooping cough. The coughing had been so violent it had even caused hemorrhoids.
“That’s a relief. She’s been doing the sitz baths regularly, right?”
Even in modern medicine, there was hardly a better treatment for that.
“Yes. Every day. The results have been excellent.”
