Chapter 8 - Wanting to Sleep In
Lizel’s mornings were never particularly early.
Back in his original world, he had either dragged himself out of bed to attend to his duties at the castle or had occasionally been roused by servants. But here, in this new world, there was nothing and no one to disturb his sleep.
What made things worse was the endless supply of books—works he had never read before—that filled this world.
Staying up until dawn with a book in hand was nothing unusual for him, which only made his mornings even more sluggish.
Adventurers, however, usually started their mornings very early.
If it wasn’t a workday, they could afford to be lazier, but on the days they went to accept requests, they were already moving with the first light of dawn.
Catching the best requests right at the start of the day was one reason, but when traveling to a dungeon far from town, leaving late meant they wouldn’t be able to return before nightfall. And no one wished to spend the night camping outside if they could help it.
Since Lizel didn’t have such plans yet, he slept in as long as he liked—until the town had already begun stirring. But if the time came when he absolutely had to rise early, he figured he would either force himself through it or, just to be safe, ask Gil to wake him.
“Mr. Rizel, you awake in there?”
Lately, he had begun hearing that voice calling to him in the dim hours before dawn.
The innkeeper’s knock and words reached him while he had barely been in bed for three hours. He groggily opened his eyes.
Even back in his noble days, when things were at their busiest, there were times he had managed only three hours of sleep a night. But this was different—worlds apart.
Through his foggy mind, he caught the creak of the door next to his room opening, followed by Gil’s familiar voice as he poked his head out and began conversing with the innkeeper, just as he always did.
“Hey, I’m coming in.”
Without even bothering to knock, Gil pushed open the door and stepped inside.
He looked down at Lizel, who was still drifting drowsily between dream and reality, then brushed back the fringe that had been hiding Lizel’s face.
Half-lidded eyes blinked up at him, revealing Lizel’s sleepy expression.
“You’re always up late reading every damn night, no wonder you’re half-dead in the morning. If you ever claim you can’t move properly during a job because of lack of sleep, I’ll knock you flat.”
“...I’ve never said that, though.”
“I’m telling you, if you can’t react in the heat of the moment, you’re screwed. Cut it out.”
It was true—Lizel had never once let personal matters interfere during a quest.
Even if he stayed up late, he never showed the slightest sign of fatigue when it mattered. It was impressive, really. But adventuring was a dangerous profession, and more than a few jobs carried real risk. Getting proper rest was never a waste—it was the bare minimum.
Their trade relied entirely on their own bodies. Staying in peak condition was the most basic rule of all.
Just because nothing had gone wrong so far didn’t mean nothing ever would.
Even so, Gil never tried to snatch away Lizel’s books.
As his partner, he was confident that even if Lizel slipped up, he could cover for him. That was why he only grumbled instead of forcing him to sleep. After all, meddling in someone else’s hobbies rarely ended well.
Besides... trying to take books away from Lizel was flat-out impossible.
“The usual one’s here. Mind if we do it in your room?”
“Mmm...”
Lizel gave a small nod but made no move whatsoever to get out of bed. Gil sighed, exasperated, while the innkeeper, busy throwing open the window, chuckled softly.
The morning air was still chilly. Lizel shivered and burrowed deeper beneath the sheets, making the innkeeper laugh again as she slipped out of the room.
Moments later, the brisk sound of footsteps hurried up the stairs, and the door swung open.
“Mornin’ to ya—”
“Knock first.”
“Oh! Sorry!”
It was Ain who entered.
This was the hour when early risers were just beginning to prepare for their day, and yet he came in brimming with energy, wearing a bright, almost annoyingly cheerful smile.
One muttered word from Gil at Lizel’s bedside was enough to make that smile stiffen.
Despite his flashy, carefree appearance—the kind often seen in young adventurers—Ain’s attitude was anything but rebellious.
If anyone else had told him to knock, he probably would have snapped back and picked a fight on the spot. But against Lizel and Gil, that sort of bravado simply wasn’t possible.
“Uh, Mr. Lizel... is he even awake?”
“Barely. You’d better spit it out quick before he drifts off again.”
“Got it!”
Gil shook the lump of blankets until Lizel finally stirred. With a rustle, Lizel pushed himself up.
Still lying face-down, he propped himself on his elbows and held out one hand.
Ain placed into it the sheet of paper—the cipher he had gotten stuck on in the dungeon. Lizel gave it a brief glance.
The page was crammed with rows of symbols, neither letters nor drawings, a meaningless array of characters that shouldn’t have existed at all.
As his eyes followed the strange markings, Lizel cast a faintly resentful look at Ain, who was already wide awake at this ungodly hour.
“...You could’ve just stopped by on your way back yesterday.”
“We really busted our asses yesterday, y’know. The new floor was nothing but a giant maze, so we had to clear it by combing through every last passage. Tons of monsters showed up, but we managed to push on our own pretty far. By the time we finally made it back, it was already the middle of the night.”
“...I see.”
For Lizel, it would actually have been more convenient if Ain had come in the middle of the night—he was certain to be awake then. But as far as the inn was concerned, that was impossible.
Once night fell, the place was locked up tight; no one could enter or leave except the lodgers themselves.
And since that particular dungeon was a good three hours away by carriage, if their return was delayed, the only choice was to come calling at Lizel’s room early the following morning.
With half-lidded eyes drooping lower and lower, Lizel lifted one hand and gestured lazily for Ain to come closer.
“What? I can’t give you any advice about the cipher. I spent the whole night thinking about it and...”
“...”
“...and I still couldn’t figure it out—wait, what the hell?!”
Without a word, Lizel had reached out and patted his head. Ain, who had been leaning close to peek at the cipher alongside him, jerked his head back in shock.
Lizel, unfazed, simply handed the sheet back as if returning it.
Ain accepted it in a daze, his face unmistakably flushed.
“There were... ten doors, right?”
“Uh—huh? Oh! Yes, yes!”
“Go through the second one from the left. Next, the fifth. Then third, seventh, fourth... turn around, then take the fifth door from where you just entered, then fourth, ninth, turn again...”
“W-wait, hold on—lemme write this down!”
He had probably meant it as praise for Ain and his party managing to fight their way through a few floors on their own.
After all, Lizel had spent years in his original world as the king’s tutor, and perhaps because of that, he tended to be soft on those younger than himself.
Not that he extended that kindness to everyone—certainly not to anyone older than him. Gil, for one, dearly wished he would cut it out.
Because really—what grown man looked happy about being patted on the head? Gil couldn’t help but glance at Ain, who was now overwhelmed with embarrassment.
“W-wait, one more time from the start...!”
“...”
“Mr. Lizel! Wake up!”
“......”
He didn’t seem to mind, so perhaps it was fine.
Lizel himself had once said, ‘I don’t do that to kids who actually hate it,’ but no one really knew how he judged that in the first place.
Somehow, Ain managed to shake Lizel awake again and pry the directions out of him. Thanking him profusely, he hurried downstairs to join his companions, who were apparently waiting in the dining hall.
After several visits, the innkeeper had come to trust them as Lizel’s acquaintances. She even allowed them to sit in the dining room while they waited, sometimes bringing out drinks or a light snack.
“Pfft...”
Lizel’s shoulders suddenly trembled beneath the blanket.
“...Don’t tell me you’re getting your kicks out of teasing kids younger than you. That’s a pretty nasty streak.”
“I was encouraging him.”
Lizel didn’t even bother to hide his grin, burying his head into the pillow with a muffled thump.
His expression still looked sleepy, but Gil figured he was heading straight back into a second round of slumber.
There were days when Lizel actually got up and stayed awake, but today wasn’t one of them.
As Gil turned toward the door, Lizel pulled the sheets over his head again and mumbled drowsily:
“...Good thing we didn’t go back, right?”
Only his steady breathing followed. Gil closed the door quietly, not making a sound.
Glancing back once, he couldn’t help but smile faintly at Lizel’s parting words.
The reason being delivering the teddy bear in the previous request. Had they gone back into the dungeon after the appraisal, Lizel wouldn’t have been in the inn when Ain and his party showed up.
He doubted it would have been a one-time visit, but if the innkeeper had driven them away harshly, would they really have come back a second time?
And Lizel certainly didn’t want to be approached out on the street. If others saw him sharing information, it would raise questions—Why them and not us?—and sooner or later, someone would take offense.
Meeting inside the inn was the safest option, both for him and for the innkeeper. That meant returning by evening that day had been necessary.
In short, Lizel had given up the teddy bear in favor of the dungeon’s true treasures.
What’s more, he no longer needed to move a finger himself. He could let others do the work while he watched from above.
And if he could sell a favor to other adventurers in the process, there was no better strategy.
“So in the end, you just couldn’t be bothered, huh.”
Chuckling under his breath, Gil headed back to his own room.
Whatever the supposed benefits, the truth really boiled down to that single muttered remark.
Lizel finally woke from his second sleep around eight in the morning, the sun already well above the horizon.
Gil, meanwhile, killed time while he slept—either training in the inn’s yard or snatching whatever books Lizel had finished and reading them for himself.
After a quick meal, just before the kitchen stopped serving, Lizel made his way to the guild. It was the first time he had gone since delivering the teddy bear.
“D-rank now... but no escort jobs yet, I see.”
“Escort work starts at C-rank. It’s not enough to just know how to swing a sword.”
His last request had raised him to E-rank, allowing him access to D-rank commissions.
As he scanned the request board for something new, a flat, emotionless voice called out from the reception desk.
Even without looking back, Lizel knew it was Studd.
Other adventurers gawked in shock—it was rare for Studd to speak up on his own. Lizel ignored the commotion and headed toward the counter.
“What is it, Studd?”
“This way, please. The client from your last dungeon request was so delighted that he insisted on thanking you personally.”
“What?”
“And while we’re at it, you as well.”
Lizel had never heard of a client demanding to give thanks directly.
Gil shot him a dubious look, but Studd simply started walking as if leading the way.
Gil scowled at the “while we’re at it.” Not at the words themselves, but at the fact that Studd clearly meant for him to come along.
Normally, Studd would ignore him for butting in with a comment or two. For him to actually insist Gil stay with Lizel was unusual.
What made it worse was that Studd had accepted the client’s request at all.
Gil was certain: Studd would never agree to something Lizel didn’t want, no matter who asked.
And yet, here he was—guiding them without even giving Lizel the option of refusing. That left Gil with nothing but uneasy guesses.
He glanced toward Lizel, only to find him following with his usual, untroubled smile.
There was no way Lizel hadn’t noticed what Gil had, and if he was going along with it anyway, then perhaps there really was no problem. Resigned, Gil let out a quiet sigh.
“Please wait in this room.”
They were shown into what looked like a guild reception chamber.
The furnishings were clearly higher quality than the other rooms, crafted for entertaining guests—though certainly not the kind of guests an ordinary client would be.
Lizel sat down on the provided sofa, wearing an expression that said he already understood everything. Studd, noticing that demeanor, told them to wait a little and then left the room.
Gil, choosing not to sit beside him, remained standing, glaring down with clear displeasure.
“Don’t go through with it if you know damn well you’d draw in some big shot.”
“It’s not like I knew. But, well... collectors are a type who thrive on showing off. Someone like that, who neither revealed their name nor hesitated to throw silver at every single request? I figured it was a possibility.”
“...So if you didn’t even care about making connections, why go through with it?”
“Wouldn’t you want to meet the higher-ups in this city at least once?”
So the decision to send that dungeon item as-is, and even to take the trouble of wrapping it, had all been with this outcome in mind?
Lizel probably would have done the same regardless of the recipient, but Gil knew he hadn’t done it without thinking ahead.
“If you’d rather not, you can wait outside.”
“Idiot.”
Gil clicked his tongue and turned away. Lizel only ever offered that kind of out knowing full well Gil would refuse.
It wasn’t just stubbornness. As an adventurer, there was pride in seeing a commission through, and Gil knew his presence here mattered.
A man as widely known as himself—even without trying to intimidate—would make an impression just by standing in the room.
Lizel, with his calm face and unassuming air, was all too easy to underestimate. Whoever was about to walk through that door, it was better to be prepared.
While talking about such things, they waited in the reception room for thirty minutes. As expected, being left in an empty room with nothing to do was rather exhausting.
Once the conversation ended, Lizel would have had a hard time passing the time if it weren’t for the books he always carried with him.
By the time a knock finally came at the door, he was so immersed in reading that Gil had to snatch the book from his hands as he rose from the sofa, or else Lizel would have been slow to respond.
Lizel tucked that book, along with the one Gil had been leafing through, into his pouch as they stood.
“The client has arrived.”
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting! ...Hmm? Have I entered the wrong room?”
“No, this is the correct one.”
The man who entered wore a radiant smile, and his very presence seemed to glitter.
His clothes were not ostentatiously gaudy, yet the cut and quality marked him unmistakably as a noble. Sunlit hair gleamed gold, his bright smile lit up the room, and his chiseled, handsome features seemed to make even the air itself sparkle around him.
He looked to be in his late thirties, perhaps early forties. A few faint lines at the corners of his eyes betrayed his age, but the youthful energy he exuded was undeniable.
There was little dignity in the way he tilted his head, baffled at being bluntly cut down by Studd’s words—but for all that, no one who laid eyes on him would ever mistake him for anything other than nobility.
Lizel offered him a courteous smile and dipped his head.
Even if he had once been a noble himself, bowing did not trouble him in the slightest. Among the aristocracy, it was rare for one to so readily accept his current station and adapt without hesitation. Lizel was unusual in that regard.
Raising his head again, he met the man’s gaze. This was no royal court—displaying rigid, formal ceremony here would only feel strange.
“My name is Lizel. I’m an adventurer, and I’ve been entrusted with this commission.”
“Well, this is a surprise!”
The man flung his arms wide in theatrical astonishment, his golden eyes gleaming as he strode toward Lizel with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Without the slightest reserve, his gaze swept slowly from Lizel’s head to his feet. Then, without warning, he seized both of Lizel’s shoulders in a firm grip.
From that close, those eyes shone like molten gold. Lizel, keeping his polite smile in place, could not help but think wryly that this world seemed filled with uniquely forceful personalities.
“To think there was an adventurer like you! You’re so far removed from the usual image of one that when I first entered, I thought perhaps another guest had been invited here! Forgive me—though I don’t mean it as an insult.”
“I hear that often,” Lizel replied gently. “Please don’t trouble yourself over it.”
“You’re far too close. Step back, Lord Ray,” Studd interjected flatly.
“Oh, my apologies! Please, sit!”
Lizel accepted the offer with a graceful motion and took a seat. Gil stood behind Lizel, while Studd remained standing near the door without leaving the room.
At Studd’s reminder, the man finally released Lizel and introduced himself as Ray, a viscount who also oversaw the city’s constabulary.
Lizel responded with a simple self-introduction of his own.
Oblivious to Gil’s silent judgment—that for all his refinement, this noble seemed oddly lacking in composure—Ray extended a friendly hand.
Lizel clasped it in return. Before any formal matters could begin, he spoke up as if remembering something.
“I should apologize here and now. I caused your constables some trouble a little while ago.”
“Oh? You don’t strike me as the sort who’d run afoul of them... Could it be that you're wilder than you look?”
“No, I’m afraid a strange rumor seems to have been circulating.”
“Strange rumor... a little while ago...” Ray repeated thoughtfully, tilting his head back toward the ceiling as if to recall.
Then he snapped his gaze back to Lizel and burst into laughter. Even raised to such volume, his mirth carried no trace of vulgarity—only polish and charisma.
His golden eyes narrowed in delight as he leaned forward to study Lizel more closely.
“So, you’re the noble who was sighted in the capital streets! Ha! I see, I see... Truly, no wonder!”
Though laughing, Ray’s tone brimmed with admiration.
Compared to when he had first arrived in this world, Lizel’s aristocratic air had diminished greatly. Still, even Ray himself, being a noble, wouldn’t doubt it if Lizel introduced himself as one.
Had he met Rizel as he once was—before the edges of his aristocratic bearing had softened—he would have immediately recognized him as one of his own kind.
“Lord Ray, please get to the point.”
Studd’s voice cut calmly through Ray’s boisterous laughter.
Lizel had thought the man unusually blunt toward a noble, but it seemed Ray and the guildmaster here were on familiar terms.
Perhaps repeated visits had worn down the formality between them... or perhaps, just as likely, this was how they had been from the very start.
“You’re right, the point!” Ray said, straightening.
“I heard you came here especially for our sake. I hope we haven’t troubled you unnecessarily.”
“Not at all! Not in the slightest! That wrapping, that relic from the dungeon—it moved me in a way I haven’t felt for years! I came here because I had to thank you in person!”
“Your words are far too generous.”
Lizel gave a flawlessly polite, noncommittal reply. At some point, Studd had set down tea on the table, and Ray promptly lifted his cup.
Breathing in the fragrant steam, he took an eager sip, clearly savoring the fine leaves.
Without setting the cup back on its saucer, Ray instead placed it on the side table. Then, from his breast pocket, he drew a single gold coin, set it on the saucer, and handed it wordlessly to Studd.
Studd accepted it without comment and quietly placed it in front of Lizel.
“I neglected to pay you for the dungeon item. Please, accept it.”
Lizel cast a brief glance at the saucer on the desk, where the gold coin boldly declared its presence, and he gave a troubled little smile.
“This... doesn’t match the appraisal result. Even counting the wrapping, it’s far too much.”
“It is payment for the impression it left on me! Or rather... let’s call that my excuse.”
Nodding once, Ray fixed him with a steady gaze.
“You who wrapped it so beautifully cannot be ignorant of that teddy bear’ true worth.”
“The appraisal is not mistaken.”
“Perhaps. But it does not tell the whole truth.”
As expected of one who proudly called himself a collector, Ray’s eye for value was sharp.
He had seen straight through to the price they had first been told—that to some, it might fetch as much as five gold coins.
That he did not offer that full amount was deliberate.
By giving only one coin, he remained within the terms of the commission, which set ‘up to one gold coin’ as the limit. So long as he did not exceed it, the guild could officially treat him as a legitimate client.
“Then I shall accept it gratefully.”
“Excellent!”
Lizel lifted the coin, signaling his willingness to accept, then set it back onto the saucer.
And since the tea had been poured, it would be rude not to partake.
He took the saucer from the low table, pinched the handle delicately, and tilted the cup with unhurried grace. After savoring the flavor, he returned it smoothly and smiled toward Studd as if to convey how fine it was. To Gil, watching, it looked as though a single flower had drifted across the room from Studd to Lizel.
Though Lizel made no deliberate effort, not the faintest clink of china accompanied the motion.
The natural elegance of the scene left Ray blinking rapidly before he exaggeratedly hunched his shoulders in amazement.
“More noble than a noble! Who could have imagined such an adventurer existed? I’d have the younger ones take lessons from you!”
“Please, that’s far too much honor for me.”
“There’s no need for modesty! Besides, if even the famed ‘Lone Blade’ serves under you, doesn’t that make you his superior in his eyes? There’s truly no reason for you to say such things as ‘too much honor.’”
Lizel only smiled, faintly troubled, while Ray grinned wolfishly back.
In the past, Ray had once (albeit in the strictest secrecy) sent out a request for personal protection, naming Gil specifically.
He had been planning to slip incognito into the Mercantile Nation of Marcade, but his usual companion-in-mischief, a knight with a taste for illicit outings, had been unavailable.
So he had sought a substitute from the guild—specifically requesting the rumored “Lone Blade,” partly for protection and partly from curiosity. Gil had turned him down at once.
Since the negotiations had gone through the guild, Gil himself never knew it was Ray’s commission. All he had seen was “a viscount’s personal guard duty,” which evidently failed to tempt him.
The thought of Gil—who had dismissed the chance to build ties with a viscount—now willingly following Lizel struck Ray as nothing short of delightful. Far from offended, he let his amusement show plainly.
“It was chance, nothing more,” Lizel answered calmly.
Glancing at Gil, he received only a silent shake of the head. The man clearly had no memory of it.
“Hm. It’s about time.”
Ray, who had been watching with an amused glint in his eye, drained his teacup and rose to his feet.
Lizel stood as well, lowering his head to see him off—
“You needn’t,” Ray said, halting him.
A broad, warm palm pressed against Lizel’s chest, gently urging him to straighten.
“Lizel, was it? I’d like us to be on good terms.”
“It’s an honor. But I am only an E-rank adventurer. Surely a viscount would be better served favoring someone more—”
“No.”
Ray’s hand remained where it was, his smile turning sharp.
Those golden eyes bore into him as if to strip away every mask, but Lizel only held his gentle smile, unchanging.
Out of the corner of his vision, Ray noted the wariness in Gil’s gaze and the flicker of distaste in Studd’s expression—yet he did not withdraw his hand.
Instead, he bent closer, his voice dropping low, rich and resonant.
“I only thought it wise to keep a personal tie with you. Call it a noble’s intuition. Will you believe that?”
“...If that is what you believe, then I have no grounds to deny it.”
Lizel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile unbroken.
After a long pause, Ray at last released him.
“Splendid! Then next time, do come and visit me. I’ll show you my prized dungeon collection!”
Laughing brightly, Ray departed—not toward the guild’s entrance, but another way. Likely the back door, or some discreet exit.
Lizel let out a pointed sigh, as if to shake off the tension, just as Studd approached with his usual impassive face.
“My apologies. He’s always like that—I do wish he’d rein it in.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize, Studd. To be addressed by a viscount at all is an honor.”
“You’re welcome to rest here as long as you like.”
“Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”
Studd’s gaze lingered on Lizel for a moment, unreadable, before he absently patted his hair twice and left the room as calmly as he had entered.
When his footsteps had faded, Lizel gathered the gold coin from the table, slipped it into his purse, and sank onto the sofa. Gil dropped onto the one opposite with a soft thump.
“So you turned down a commission from a viscount? That’s a waste.”
“Shut it. Weren’t you about to turn down a little noble’s favor just now?”
They exchanged glances—one snorted, the other chuckled.
“So? Was it as you expected?”
“For the most part. I thought it might be someone from the constabulary if they came in person... but as you said, it turned out to be him.”
“The constabulary chief is under his thumb. If the guild wouldn’t bend, there’s no way someone in the middle could push it through.”
They had already speculated on who might appear while waiting in this reception room.
How had Lizel guessed it might be tied to the constabulary? Because he had once dealt with them before.
At that time, they had claimed they were “seeking confirmation.” For them to confirm anything involving a noble, the matter would have had to climb all the way up. And that figure at the top was Ray.
The constables already knew Lizel was an adventurer, so his visit today had been not only to give thanks for the dungeon item, but also to confirm that fact.
Judging by his reactions, Ray had not realized the giver of the gift—the one suspected of being a noble—was Lizel himself.
“So? Do you think that suspicion’s been laid to rest?”
That was the real purpose of his visit: to see with his own eyes whether the man accused of being a noble truly was one—or not.
Meeting Lizel face to face had saved him the trouble of further investigation.
“Well, without a doubt, it’s been cleared up.”
“Your basis?”
“Because he checked.”
Lizel tapped lightly at his chest. Gil let out a small sound of realization.
That hand pressed to Lizel’s chest as Ray left, refusing to let go even after helping him straighten—so it had carried another meaning after all.
Anyone who had slipped into this land from another country, trying to spy or hide their identity, would have taken Ray’s probing words as surveillance. Even if their face betrayed nothing, their heart would have faltered.
After all, expressions can be masked. Heartbeats cannot.
That a man could read the shifts of emotion from a heartbeat alone... Lizel was honestly impressed.
“You, though—you’d probably fool the heartbeat along with the lie.”
“Do you think so?”
“You’re supposed to deny it...”
Lizel, genuinely considering whether it was possible, fell into thought. Gil looked at him with a faint shudder.
“Lord Ray, the adventurers who brought you such a fine gift seem to be fine people themselves.”
“Oh?”
“Your face is positively glowing.”
The elderly retainer waiting in the carriage beamed at him.
Touching his own face, Ray realized he was indeed grinning.
The man sitting opposite had been with him since childhood. His gaze, warm and indulgent, was that of a parent watching a son.
“Listen to this! That adventurer was the very one at the center of that false noble incident.”
“My, my. Then the suspicion has been laid to rest?”
“Indeed. I thought perhaps he was a dispossessed noble, driven to flee abroad—but no. Not at all. Hah! Truth be told, I’d barely suspected him in the first place!”
Ray laughed heartily.
Had Lizel flaunted a noble’s name and acted with arrogance, suspicion would have deepened. But he hadn’t.
Originally, he had planned to take the chance while expressing his thanks for the gift to casually ask around the guild about the adventurer in question—(yes, for Ray, the “investigation” was merely an afterthought). But since he was able to speak directly with the man himself, that precaution was no longer necessary.
And there is nothing more valuable than meeting face-to-face.
“There’s no way someone like him could have fallen so far.”
The words slipped out unheeded, unheard by the old retainer.
For a noble to leave his homeland alone—there could be only ruin.
Caught in corruption, stripped of protection, fortune squandered, until death itself seemed preferable.
Only then would one cross into another land and start anew as an adventurer.
Which is precisely why Lizel was different.
Ray looked down at his hand, clenching it. That unflinching heartbeat he’d felt had told him more than that Lizel was no spy—it had told him that Lizel felt neither fear nor deference toward him.
It was not the heartbeat of a commoner before a noble. It was the heartbeat of someone who stood above.
“Terrifying...”
“My lord?”
“...Which is why the only choice is to make him a friend, not a foe! Yes. I must invite him to my collection room without fail!”
Ray’s handsome face twisted into a daring grin. His retainer, watching fondly, thought simply: As always, his smile is what suits him best.
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