A heavy silence blanketed the dark alley.

The two Royal Knights turned, startled, at their comrade. Ashley’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even the soldiers binding the assassins froze, staring.

For the one who had spoken—who had asked the ragged blind man his name—was none other than Silent Victor.

True to his title, Victor rarely spoke. Even among his fellow knights, his voice was a rarity. To outsiders, he was all but a mute, a man who lived by action alone. He had never volunteered words, never interjected, never revealed what he thought.

And now, that man had stepped forward, broken his silence, and addressed… a shabby blind swordsman.

The blind man, however, only cocked his head, his posture careless, his expression faintly annoyed.

“….”

The blood-scented alley held its breath.

At last, the blind swordsman answered in a curt voice.

“Ban Shua.”

Victor gave the smallest nod.

“Ban Shua. You truly cannot see?”

“That’s right.”

“…I see.”

And that was all.

Victor stepped back, his tone as brief as his stride. Yet something about his silence carried satisfaction, as though the answer had given him exactly what he sought.

Only the scrape of his armor filled the alley as he returned to his place.

The soldiers, shaken from their stupor, hastily resumed binding the assassins under Van Dyke’s stern glare.

Then, from the opposite side, another knight approached.

“Been a while, Ashley.”

Ashley stiffened, then turned—and her expression sank as she recognized the speaker.

“…Lady Rutie.”

The golden-haired knight smiled.

“You should call me sister.”

“….”

Ashley did not. Her brows knit, her hand lingering near her weapon, while Rutie’s smile only deepened.

Ban Shua looked between them with interest.

“So, Sir Ashley—your sister is a Royal Knight?”

Ashley reluctantly nodded. “…Yes.”

Rutie’s bright eyes slid toward Ban Shua. Her cropped golden hair shimmered like her sister’s, the resemblance undeniable.

“Sir Ban Shua, was it? What’s your relation to my dear Ashley?”

Ban Shua corrected her evenly.

“I’m no knight. No need for honorifics.”

“…Huh?”

He set his hand solemnly on Ashley’s shoulder.

“She and I are lovers.”

“W-what?!” Ashley’s head whipped around, aghast.

Rutie blinked, her gaze darting between her sister and the blind stranger.

“My Ashley once swore she’d never marry anyone weaker than herself…”

“She makes exceptions,” Ban Shua replied coolly. “For handsome men.”

“Ah, is that so?” Rutie tilted her head.

Ashley just stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. What is this man thinking now…?

Rutie pointed to the bound assassins.

“Back there. You mimicked Ashley’s technique, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Ban Shua admitted.

“Because she’s your lover?”

“Exactly. Without having learned from her, how could I copy such a skill?”

Rutie’s smile sharpened.

“Liar.”

There was something unsettling in the way her lips curled.

“You copied it the moment you saw it, didn’t you?”

Ban Shua’s face remained impassive—then split into a crooked grin.

“Ah, you caught me.”

Rutie’s smile widened, dangerous.

“Obvious, really.”

Ashley’s eyes flicked nervously between them. Their smiles did not ease her—they looked like two blades circling each other, ready to strike.

Ban Shua jerked his chin at Rutie’s waist.

“Your sword… unusual.”

“This?”

Shing— Rutie drew it in a flash.

“It’s a dao. Only one edge.”

Ban Shua shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’m blind.”

Rutie chuckled.

“Liar.”

Her blade flashed.

Slice!

The cloth covering Ban Shua’s eyes fluttered to the ground, neatly severed.

Rutie grinned, playful as a cat toying with prey.

“So, the Red-Eyed Devil is more mischievous than I thought.”

Ban Shua’s fingers brushed his now-bared eyes. He muttered, “Ah… you caught that too?”

When his lids lifted, crimson light blazed.

In the dim alley, his pupils glowed like fresh blood, casting an ominous glow.

Rutie only smiled wider, staring straight into the scarlet gleam.

Ashley’s hand clenched tighter on her hilt—but Rutie’s blade was already sheathed, as though it had never left.

Ashley blinked. When—?

She realized with a jolt: Rutie had drawn, cut, and resheathed in the single instant she had struck the blindfold.

Unbelievable speed.

The two never dropped their smiles as they traded words.

“I heard from Sir Serkov,” Rutie said.

“…Strange. He doesn’t seem the talkative type.”

“Not with us, no. But with His Majesty, he shares a little more.”

“I see.”

Rutie’s gaze lingered on the devil’s face.

“They say you’ve got a monster inside. Is it true?”

For a heartbeat, Ban Shua’s smile faltered.

Rutie’s own grin deepened.

“So it is.”

“Lady Rutie,” Van Dyke’s voice rumbled, drawing her back.

The soldiers had finished binding the assassins.

Rutie held his devil’s eyes, then clasped her hands behind her back and stepped away with a bright smile.

“Red-Eyed Devil, I’m looking forward to it. See you tomorrow.”

She gave a jaunty little wave and turned on her heel. Silent Victor, who’d been standing behind, clanked past the two of us and dipped his head ever so slightly. Van Dyke watched us for a moment with an unreadable look, then turned and strode off.

The three Royal Knights filed out of the alley with their soldiers and the bound assassins in tow.

The two left behind simply stared after them, one with a hand still on her hilt, eyes sharp with caution, the other standing crookedly, fingertips to his lips, amused.

Our delightful, chaotic, slapdash, utterly unpredictable stroll had gone on long enough.

With a strip of torn cloth tied back over my eyes, I headed for the lodgings where the Black Prince was no doubt gnashing his teeth for my return.

“Lord Ashuban—that’s the wrong way.”

“…”

A foreign capital I’d never visited before was a maze—and my mind was just as tangled with thoughts. Of course I didn’t remember the route.

So I kept my mouth shut and let our guide, Sir Ashley, lead the way.

“…”

I had a lot on my mind.

First, my walking partner—and captain—Lady Ashley, and her martial skill.

If Royal Knights are “complete,” and the First Prince’s knights are a single step from completion, then she’d said her own level sat between them: half a step before completion, as a knight.

She had every right to say so.

She didn’t need to explain it. One look was enough.

You could see what she’d built, how many times she’d crossed the line of life and death, how ruthlessly she’d driven herself. Never satisfied with the present, never collapsing in despair—just whipping herself onward.

Traces of hard training flashed past like glimpses from the corner of the eye.

Her blade shone.

Metaphorically—and literally.

More striking still were the Royal Knights.

I hadn’t expected to run into them on a casual stroll.

None of them were ordinary.

“Completion,” they’d said—and it showed.

They felt unlike any knights I’d ever met—strangely, compellingly alien.

Silent Victor, eyes hidden behind his helm.

“Iron Spear” Van Dyke, a giant with a colossal lance.

And Swiftblade Rutie, with that long, subtly curved single-edged dao.

I found myself touching the corner of my eye.

I remembered that cut—no wind-up, no wasted motion.

It happened in a blink.

She had touched nothing else, severing only the blindfold across my eyes.

Without absolute confidence, no one would dare such a cut.

Of course, the Heavenly Demon’s uncanny talent read the path of her blade the instant she entered range, so I stayed still.

But the real question was whether I could have responded on my own.

Usually, a strike gives itself away— a shift of toes, a glance, a shoulder, a waist.

From those, you can predict the line of the blade.

She showed none of that.

No tell, only a sudden, swift, precise cut.

Because there was no wind-up, it felt even faster.

If she’d aimed at my neck instead of my blindfold—

Could I have dodged it?

The thought sent a chill across my skin.

Just imagining it made me lightheaded.

“Heh.”

I couldn’t help the grin creeping onto my lips.

Exhilarating.

The Heavenly Demon clicked his tongue, displeased.

[Exhilarating? After that mockery?]

“What mockery?”

[You let her slice the cloth off your eyes. Had it been me, I would have torn her to pieces on the spot.]

“No need to go that far.”

Ahead of me, Lady Ashley glanced back and blurted an apology.

“Um… I’m sorry, Lord Ashuban.”

I tilted my head.

“Hm? For what?”

“For Lady Rutie’s discourtesy…”

I stared at her for a beat.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“She was my sister, after all.”

She said it as if she no longer was.

“Hm.”

I answered honestly.

“It wasn’t discourtesy. And it isn’t yours to apologize for.”

“Even so…”

“Ah-ah.”

“…”

I punted her apology aside and, since the topic had come up, asked what I wanted to know.

“Lady Ashley.”

“Yes.”

“What sort of person is she?”

Ashley hesitated, then answered.

“She was the captain of the Grangalder Knights.”

“Oh.”

Both sisters, knight-captains.

I had no idea who House Grangalder were, but they’d certainly raised their daughters well.

“She was a genius. There was nothing she couldn’t do. Brilliant in every field—but especially in the sword. She defeated our instructor in a spar only a few months after picking up a blade.”

“Mmm.”

A genius calling another genius a genius rubbed me wrong, but I held my tongue.

“I grew up being compared to her in everything. I fell short in every way. She tried to keep me from ever holding a sword. She wanted me to marry into a wealthy noble house and live quietly. I don’t know why.”

Most young ladies would choose that life.

For a moment, I wondered if it was the life Rutie wanted.

Or not.

“But I wanted to be a knight. She had the talent and clout to dominate our house, and she used every means to block me. In her way, she did everything she could to turn me from the sword. I had no choice but to leave if I wanted to become a knight.”

“And so you came to Starvanger.”

And froze the relationship in the process.

“Yes. Luckily…”

She stopped herself and bowed her head.

“Ah—my apologies. I didn’t mean to ramble about myself.”

“No apology needed. After you left, what became of Lady Rutie?”

“I heard she became captain, and soon after, the youngest-ever Royal Knight. I wasn’t surprised. That’s who she is.”

A faint smile touched Ashley’s lips.

There was a trace of self-mockery in it.

“…”

We walked in silence for a while.

Then I muttered to myself, “Anyway. Those sly ones. They knew who I was from the start. I shouldn’t have bothered with ‘Ban Shua.’”

“Right? How do you think they knew?”

“Does the First Prince’s side know as well?”

“They likely suspect the Black Prince has the Red-Eyed Devil. But that you are the Devil? They won’t know that.”

“I see.”

For a moment, the image of the assassins meekly submitting to ropes nagged at me—but I shook it off.

“Ugh, my head. Lady Ashley, let’s grab another chicken skewer on the way.”

Her face brightened.

“Oh, shall we?”

Naturally, she paid.

Sharing skewers like good friends, we made our way back to the inn.

Chaos met us at the door.

Anything that could be thrown had been hurled against wall or floor.

It was a war zone.

Shattered plates and chipped cups rolled across the boards.

I watched the Black Prince pounding the table and bellowing, then turned to Walpole nearby.

“What’s going on? Has he finally lost his mind?”

Walpole hurried over, breathless.

“It’s terrible!”

“What is?”

“The knights slated to compete in the final… have vanished!”

“…!”

(End of Chapter)

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