Chapter 55
The day of the Grand Duke’s parents’ death was also a historical day in the Prares Empire.
It was the day the former Emperor raised an army and massacred countless people—including Raymond’s parents.
Many wished to honor those they lost to the tyrant.
But since the current Emperor—of the same bloodline—sat on the throne, that day could not be made official.
So people mourned quietly on their own.
The late Duke and Duchess of Luslo were buried in a seaside village within the Luslo territory. According to their will, they chose to be laid to rest with others, rather than in a private family tomb.
Raymond remembered Eilene’s warning to be careful. But for this one day—for just these 20 minutes a year—he wanted to be alone.
He ordered his subordinates, including On, to wait at the entrance, then walked alone.
The cemetery was on a grassy cliff that overlooked the ocean.
Dozens of white crosses were placed in neat rows on the wide lawn.
People came in silence to honor the dead, then quietly left.
Raymond also walked through the grass to his parents’ grave.
He laid down a few prepared flowers in front of their cross and closed his eyes.
He had been spared seeing the massacre—thanks to his parents, who had sensed danger and sent him away.
What he saw later was only their peaceful, resting faces, lying among the flowers.
He had wanted to scream but held it in.
He wasn’t yet an adult back then, but he had been raised in the Luslo family to value restraint. And after his parents’ death, he became the head of the household.
When his siblings returned from studying abroad and the family was drowning in tears, Raymond alone remained dry-eyed.
Only his lower lip—bitten until it bled—revealed his pain.
Maybe that’s why, during this short memorial each year, he allowed himself to quietly cry.
Tears he couldn’t shed back then finally flowed in silence.
He never let anyone see this side of him. That’s why he always came here alone.
As he stood there, remembering his parents with a heavy heart… intruders appeared.
His eyes, once soft with emotion, sharpened as he turned to the side.
The cemetery was surrounded by forest—and from the trees, figures full of murderous intent emerged, approaching fast.
Special Unit…!
They wore black from head to toe and had masks over their faces, but Raymond could tell just from their movement.
He had fought them too many times before.
Ten special unit soldiers rushed at him with weapons drawn.
“Kyaaa!”
“W-What is that?!”
Civilians screamed and scattered from the graveyard.
Fortunately, the masked soldiers let them flee without interference.
Raymond calmly drew the sword at his hip.
He was one of the Empire’s top swordsmen—and even while fighting multiple elite soldiers, he stayed composed.
He blocked and parried with precision.
He wasn’t just fast and skilled—he was also incredibly strong.
Each time he struck back, the attackers stumbled from the force.
But when the fight dragged on longer than expected, the squad leader barked a command:
“Our numbers are way higher. Push him all at once!”
“Yes, sir!”
Clang, clang, clang!
The sound of blades clashing rang loudly through the empty park.
No matter how skilled he was, it was hard to fight multiple enemies alone for long.
And the special unit soldiers were expertly trained—this wouldn’t be easy.
The situation looked bad.
Raymond saw no chance to escape or break their formation. If this dragged on, things would only get worse.
This is bad. If it keeps up like this, I’m going down.
Just as the thought crossed his mind—a sharp pain pierced deep into his side.
Fighting alone had left him open, and the enemy exploited the gap.
“Guh…”
He grunted, but still countered with his sword.
The soldier who stabbed him screamed as Raymond knocked him away with a powerful blow.
But six soldiers were still standing.
Raymond was wounded and growing tired—hope seemed to be slipping away.
“The Grand Duke is injured! Push harder!”
“Yes, sir!!”
The special unit took advantage of their upper hand and pressed in even more aggressively.
And just then…
Flap, flap!
A sudden, thunderous fluttering of wings filled the area.
Startled, the soldiers paused and looked around.
“Birds in the woods…?”
“What’s with all this noise?”
The strange racket grew louder. One of the soldiers pointed to the sky.
“What… is that?”
Above them, a black shape began to take form—growing larger by the second.
It wasn’t long before the swarm came into view: a massive flock of birds.
The birds surged forward like a storm. Even the ones perched at the forest edge joined the frenzy, and the entire park filled with flapping wings.
They dove straight at the soldiers—pecking viciously with their sharp beaks.
“Arghhh!!”
“Ahh—it hurts!!”
Here’s something to remember: in a fight, attack birds are like fighter jets. They can determine the outcome of war.
Even elite soldiers were no match for the relentless birds.
If they swung their swords to fend them off, more birds filled the gaps—biting at their faces and necks, tearing flesh.
Within moments, they were drenched in blood.
“Ook, ook, ook!”
“Okkie!”
Amid the chaos, Okkie the bird flapped its wings and flew over to Raymond, urging him to move.
It led him not toward the entrance, but another path.
Raymond, clutching his side, forced himself to follow.
It was his side that had been stabbed—making walking painful—but there was no time to waste.
The path Okkie took was a shortcut.
After about a minute of walking, Raymond saw sunlight break through—it was the road to safety.
“Guh…”
He collapsed, overwhelmed. Blood gushed from his side.
But even in the pain, he felt relieved—because he saw his men running toward him.
Thank you, Okkie…
With that final thought, Raymond let go of consciousness and closed his eyes.
That Night
It was late—so late even wild animals were asleep.
I ran through the forest path, branches and leaves scratching my skin. But I didn’t care.
Raymond was hurt.
That one thought filled my head. Nothing else mattered.
Last time, I got caught sneaking out by the guards—but this time, I had help from Coa, who cloaked me in shadows. I slipped out easily.
And the one who had told me Raymond was in danger… was none other than Okkie.
He flew to the Duke’s estate and acted out a desperate performance—posing dramatically with a wing on his waist, flashing intense eyes, then jabbing his side and collapsing.
At first, I laughed at how cute he was.
Then I focused—wait, he’s imitating Raymond!
He got stabbed in the side?
“Wait—Raymond is injured?!”
“Okk, okk!!”
Recognizing his “performance,” Okkie flapped his wings in strong agreement.
That was all I needed.
I quickly changed clothes and began my escape from the estate.
“Okkie, let’s go!”
“Okk, okk!”
Thanks to Coa’s help, I had saved time and energy—so I sprinted with all I had.
I burst through the back door of the hideout bar.
Bang!
I was so worked up that I slammed it open too hard—drawing everyone’s attention.
The door’s top hinge came loose and swung awkwardly, but I didn’t care.
I rushed to Melas, who stood frozen.
Okkie followed behind me and perched on a shelf high up on the wall, like it was his rightful place.
“Melas! Where’s the Grand Duke?”
At my urgent voice, he finally turned away from the door and answered.
“His Grace is lying in bed.”
“How is he?”
“He suffered internal injuries… and hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“What about a doctor? Or a healer?”
“Doctors came, but could only treat the outer wounds. We couldn’t secure any healers.
It seems the Emperor bought out all the nearby priest-healers.”
“…Ah.”
His voice was bleak—and I let out a sigh of despair, too.
Then Melas caught my eye again and asked,
“Lady Cowet… did you bring a potion?”
“A potion?”
His face lit up with hope—but then quickly dimmed.
I had left in such a rush that I forgot to bring any healing potions.
As I struggled to figure out what to do, he read my expression and lowered his gaze.
“I asked too much. I apologize.”
“N-No. May I at least see him?”
“Yes. Please, this way.”
We climbed the stairs together.
Glancing down briefly, I saw some men trying to fix the damaged back door.
No knock this time—Melas quietly turned the handle and entered the room.
Inside, there were no bright lights—only a soft magical glow from the bedside lamp.
Raymond lay in bed, eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead.
I approached and gently wiped his face, brushing his forehead.
He needed treatment. And he needed it fast.
