I Will Try Raising an Enemy

IWTRAE 62

I Will Try Raising an Enemy

 

 

#Episode 62

 

 

Vasha’s gaze naturally shifted back and forth between Todd and Oliver.

 

“Did you deliberately raise Oliver to be an assassin?”

 

If Vasha hadn’t heard Todd’s words, she might not have realized that Oliver was such a skilled assassin.

 

It made sense now why Albert was avoiding Oliver. Although he might not have known Oliver’s full identity, he clearly recognized his skills to some extent.

 

Laurus responded to Vasha’s misunderstanding with a gentle smile and shook his head.

 

“No, Oliver was already an assassin when I first met him. He had come to kill me.”

 

“…When he met Lucy, wasn’t Oliver just thirteen?”

 

At least that’s what it sounded like—that Laurus had met Oliver when he was around that age. An assassin at such a young age.

 

“In the slums, age hardly matters. Orphans have few options. They either become pickpockets or beggars… and if they have a knack for wielding a knife, they become mercenaries. And if they can also conceal their presence, they become assassins.”

 

Laurus smiled bitterly.

 

Vasha looked down at Oliver with a newfound perspective. Laurus’s words made sense.

 

In her dreams, Todd had become a ruler of the underworld at a young age, meaning he had done the dirty work of the underworld from an early age—robbery, intimidation, murder…

 

Oliver’s past could have been one of the possible futures for Todd. Thinking this way left a bitter taste.

 

“Then… how did an assassin end up becoming your butler?”

 

“Well.”

 

At Vasha’s question, Laurus reminisced about the past, chuckling.

 

“Well, I was young back then.”

 

***

 

Forty years ago.

 

After a long period of obscurity, Laurus was slowly gaining recognition. The art world was starting to pay attention to him, and his paintings were becoming a hot topic. Naturally, people who envied and disliked him began to emerge.

 

Among them were not only painters but also critics who had previously criticized Laurus’s style. As soon as Laurus’s name surfaced, critics tore into his work.

 

Most painters would begrudgingly suppress their anger if a critic criticized their work.

 

But Laurus didn’t hold back at all. His paintings were acknowledged by Lucy, and he saw any criticism of his work as an attack on her taste.

 

Laurus investigated the pasts of those who criticized his paintings, uncovering their weaknesses, manipulating them, and sometimes even openly exposing them.

 

Such actions inevitably led Laurus to make enemies. Eventually, a critic whom Laurus had publicly exposed for infidelity hired an assassin to kill him.

 

That assassin turned out to be young Oliver.

 

One late night, Oliver sneaked into Laurus’s studio, where Laurus spent most of his time.

 

The studio was filled with canvases of various sizes stacked on top of each other. Amidst them, Laurus was painting, his back exposed and completely defenseless.

 

Oliver slowly made his way through the stacks of canvases draped with cloth, quietly approaching Laurus. His palms were sweaty as he gripped the knife.

 

Ssh, ssh.

 

Only the sound of Laurus’s brush brushing against the canvas filled the studio as Oliver crept closer.

 

Just as Oliver adjusted his grip on the knife and raised it to strike Laurus from behind, his gaze fell on the canvas Laurus was painting.

 

“…….…!”

 

Oliver’s knife halted in midair.

 

The canvas looked like a fogged-up window. It was a dreamy landscape painting, its lack of clarity somehow making it even more captivating. It felt as though if he kept looking, he could pierce through to the reality beyond.

 

Standing frozen like a statue, Oliver found himself entranced, watching Laurus paint.

 

Laurus’s delicate brushstrokes layered vivid colors, creating something wondrous.

 

For Oliver, who had only ever known destruction and ruin, this was his first encounter with creation—the artistic process. It was a profound, almost shocking, experience.

 

The burst of sensation hit Oliver like a lightning strike, shaking him and creating deep cracks within him.

 

Yet it didn’t feel painful. The painting emanated a warmth, a feeling of home. If there was such a thing as a ‘hometown,’ he thought, it might look like this.

 

Oliver, who had been found in a trash-filled alley, had nothing to look back on with nostalgia. To him, ‘home’ was a damp, foul-smelling, unpleasant place filled with waste.

 

Thus, he could never understand why people who had drifted into the slums would reminisce about home. Even when they tirelessly described the beautiful scenes of their hometowns, he couldn’t picture anything.

 

But now, Oliver thought he could finally imagine the landscapes they had spoken of.

 

As Oliver stood there, spellbound, watching Laurus finish his painting, someone grabbed the back of his neck.

 

“So, even a little rat has an eye for art?”

 

A long mane of wavy, violet hair. And crimson eyes.

 

It was Lucy van Vassenar.

 

At last, Laurus, realizing Oliver’s presence, was startled and put down his brush and palette.

 

Shaking the dangling Oliver in her grip, Lucy asked,

 

“That was close. If he hadn’t been so captivated by your painting, he would have killed you just now.”

 

“No way. Lady Lucy would never let her loyal follower be killed. Even now, see? You’ve been watching all along and showed up before I was in any real danger.”

 

With a gentle smile, Laurus responded brazenly, causing Lucy to scoff.

 

“Heh.”

 

But she didn’t deny it. Laurus smiled as if he’d expected that reaction.

 

While they were talking, Oliver, who had only just realized he’d been caught, gritted his teeth and twisted his entire body to struggle free. However, he couldn’t shake off the grip of the slender woman.

 

Then, he caught a glimpse of fangs between Lucy’s red lips. A cold sweat broke out down his back.

 

It had been decades since vampires had disappeared, but they hadn’t faded completely from people’s memories. Even in the slums where Oliver lived, vampire stories still circulated frequently.

 

Realizing he had been captured by a vampire, Oliver finally understood that this was the end for him. There was no way an ordinary human could resist a vampire. Despair washed over him.

 

Lucy shook Oliver and asked Laurus,

 

“What should we do? Should we kill him?”

 

Laurus looked down at Oliver. With his neck hanging like a sick chicken, looking as if he had given up on everything, he seemed utterly pitiful.

 

Laurus grabbed Oliver’s chin and suddenly shoved his hand into Oliver’s mouth.

 

“Ugh? Mmmph!”

 

“Even assassins have levels. Judging from this, it seems they just picked up someone vaguely promising from the slums, handed him a knife, and sent him off… Nobles wouldn’t send such an assassin. It must have been someone who thought I was just a commoner artist.”

 

Laurus casually pulled his hand out of Oliver’s mouth. He had checked just to be sure, but it seemed Oliver didn’t even have any poison for suicide, nor had he been properly trained for capture situations. He was being treated like a disposable arrow.

 

Oliver’s face turned red with embarrassment at being exposed so bluntly. After all, he wasn’t even skilled enough to enter an assassin’s guild.

 

Laurus clicked his tongue as he wiped his hands with a handkerchief.

 

“This child isn’t at fault. The one I want to kill is the one who sent an assassin after me.”

 

“Hm… so, what will you do with this child?”

 

Lucy asked, glancing at the disheveled back of Oliver’s head. The boy, awaiting his fate, held his breath, his shoulders trembling slightly even though his face was out of view.

 

Come to think of it, they had mentioned how he had been captivated by Laurus’s painting and forgotten his mission to kill him.

 

Laurus detested critics who harshly judged his art, but he had a fondness for those who appreciated it.

 

That a slum-raised assassin, who knew nothing of art, had been mesmerized by his painting… that fact thoroughly satisfied Laurus.

 

This full heart led to a change in mood.

 

“It just so happens that I was in need of an assistant… I’ll keep him by my side and raise him.”

 

And so, Laurus took Oliver in.

 

Not long after, the critic who had hired Oliver disappeared. Yet, no one connected the disappearance to Laurus.

 

 

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