A radiant smile bloomed on Ceres’s lips.
“You intend to make my sister a witness?”
A wife who had an affair and ran away, a son who followed after her, and the son’s friend who came carrying the letter.
From the man’s perspective, it was the perfect excuse that conveniently walked into his hands.
Ceres smiled coldly as she imagined Dave’s father rushing to the guard post by now, using the letter Julia received as his justification. It was obvious how everything would’ve unfolded if she hadn’t intervened.
They won’t find anything.
The disappearance itself was a lie from the beginning. It was impossible to find a child who was already dead or a man who had never existed.
Of course, if the guards stepped in, they could trace the courier’s route. From there, confirming where the letter had been sent wouldn’t be difficult. But Dave’s father surely already took care of that.
In the end, Dave and his mother would be recorded as missing. And after five years...
“Declared dead.”
All the blame would be placed on a man who didn’t exist. If a Black Forest were to appear in the place they were presumed missing, that period would be reduced to a single year.
Whether in one year or at most five, the insurance money taken out in their names would end up in the man’s hands.
“...He’s no different from a devil.”
After taking one last look around the blood-soaked house, Ceres turned time back to its original state. As if nothing had happened, every trace disappeared without a mark.
Pour.
She emptied the now cold tea into the kitchen sink before stepping outside, her gaze colder than ever as she closed the door behind her.
There is only one place a devil belongs. Go on, try living in hell.
.
.
.
Side Story: The Mercenary King
“...You came again?”
“Hehe.”
“What is it this time? Where are you hurt?”
“I think my arm is broken.”
“You came in with a broken leg not long ago, and now it’s your arm?”
“Hehe.”
Grace sighed. The ten-year-old boy held out his dangling arm while grinning, like he felt no pain at all.
“But today I didn’t just get hit. I landed a punch too.”
“I see. Well done.”
Tap.
“Aaah!”
“It’s definitely broken.”
Watching him scream at the slightest touch, Grace began treating him.
“At this rate, you will ruin your body, Tom.”
Grace clicked her tongue as she wrapped the bandage. Yet despite herself, her attention kept drifting back to the boy who often showed up uninvited.
She smiled, remembering the cheeky child who had introduced himself without being asked, eagerly sharing his name, the fact that he lived nearby, and his dream of becoming a mercenary.
It wasn’t that she looked down on his dream. Even to her, he was still young, yet his physical ability was exceptional.
The problem is that he has no fear at all.
The boy, who returned injured almost every day, had only one habit. It was to barge into mercenary groups and pick fights without a second thought.
Having never properly learned swordsmanship, it was only natural that he appeared ridiculous in the eyes of battle-hardened mercenaries.
At first, they didn’t bother with him. But as he continued to charge at them as if his life depended on it, his persistence eventually forced them to respond.
Therefore, it became a pattern for Tom to return here injured time and time again.
“Why are you so set on becoming a mercenary?”
“Because it’s cool.”
“...That’s it?”
“Yes!”
“......”
Seeing some potential in him, she had once casually suggested he join her household. With proper training, he could’ve become a fine swordsman.
No.
However, he had turned her down without hesitation and insisted he would become a mercenary.
“Rescuing people from Black Forests is amazing.”
“Knights go into Black Forests to save people too.”
“They don’t seem as driven as mercenaries.”
“Well, that’s not entirely wrong. There, it’s done.”
“Thank you!”
Tom grinned as he looked at his treated arm.
“You’re not planning to pick another fight with the mercenaries with that arm, are you?”
“......”
“...Sigh.”
Grace shook her head when Tom avoided her gaze.
“There’s definitely something wrong with you. Stay home and read this quietly until your arm heals.”
“Huh? A poetry collection?”
Tom’s eyes lit up as he took the book from her.
“Do you like this book?”
“Yes.”
Tom smiled before finally checking the title.
[Where Your Steps Come to Rest]
“The title is poetic too.”
A small smile tugged at Grace’s lips as she watched him nod with surprising seriousness.
“Teacher, please sign it here.”
“Sign it?”
“Yes, so I can prove it was a gift from you.”
Grace signed it without a word just as he asked. It was hardly any trouble.
Grrrowl...
“...You haven’t eaten?”
“Hehe.”
Grace sighed at the sound that came just as she handed the book back.
As expected, he had probably charged into a mercenary group without eating breakfast.
“Follow me.”
“Yes!”
Grace led him to the kitchen. Fortunately, there was still some stew she had prepared earlier for patients, so she was able to serve him right away.
“This stew is really good!”
“Of course it is. I made it.”
“Can’t you teach me the recipe? I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”
He said this every time he ate her stew.
At first, she thought it was just something he said out of habit, but did he actually want to learn it?
“I’ll tell you if you stay put until your arm heals.”
“Mmm...”
Tom’s face fell at her condition.
“If I rest even for a day, it’ll only delay my path to becoming the Mercenary King...”
“The Mercenary King?”
“Yes, I’m definitely going to become the Mercenary King!”
“......”
“I’m going to achieve great feats in war and save lots of people in Black Forests.”
“Sure, sure. You can worry about becoming the Mercenary King later. Do you want the recipe or not?”
“...Alright. I’ll stay put until my arm heals.”
Tempted by the stew recipe, Tom finally gave in. Grace wrote it down and slipped it between the pages of the book he was holding.
“Thank you!”
As Tom thanked her brightly like he had never been upset at all, a faint smile returned to Grace’s lips.
***
“Hmm.”
Stepping into Baron Drow’s study for the first time, Ceres looked over the shelves with quiet interest.
The room was fairly large and filled with a remarkable number of old books.
“So he used to be a mercenary.”
Wasn’t the founder of the Drow family a former mercenary as well? Perhaps because of that, most of the books were related to combat.
“Oh?”
As she continued scanning the shelves, one book suddenly caught her eye.
“That book...”
It was a book she knew well, one she used to open whenever she had the time a long ago.
“Now that I think about it, it has the same name as the shop.”
[Where Your Steps Come to Rest]
After reading the title, a smile touched Ceres’s lips. Perhaps the one who first opened the shop had liked this book as well.
“Come to think of it, what did I do with that book?”
She thought she had given it as a gift to a child she was rather fond of, but it had been so long that her memory was hazy.
Ceres pulled the book free, thinking she might read it again after all this time. The worn pages stirred something in her.
It feels like I’m the only one who crossed all that time.
She walked over to the sunlit window, sat along the ledge, and opened the book.
“Ceres.”
At the sound of Antonian calling her, Ceres set the book down lightly on the windowsill.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just looking through some books. Why?”
“Go check on Julia.”
Antonian frowned as he spoke.
“She’s filled her worksheets with drawings again. She won’t listen to a word I say.”
“...Should we just make her a painter?”
Ceres sighed and rose from the window.
“Please give her a proper scolding, Ceres.”
“Really? Should I use the rod?”
“Ah, no. Don’t go too far either. She’s still not fully well.”
Ceres chuckled quietly. Antonian was just as soft when it came to Julia.
Tap, tap.
The two of them left the study.
Thud.
The book slipped from the windowsill and fell to the floor. As it opened, the first page revealed a short message and a faded signature.
—To Tom, from Grace.
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