SM Chapter 72

72. A Reward for Excellent Insight

 

To enter Baloch’s front yard and stand before its master with such composure?

That meant he had something to rely on, something powerful enough to seize Baloch in his grasp.

Jillian slowly blinked. As he sharpened his senses to their fullest, he faintly caught the clash of weapons and the scent of steel. His nerves tensed instantly.

Shaaak.

“What is this…?”

His breath grew rough with rising excitement.

Then…

Haa

A peaceful sound of breathing brushed against his eardrums.

It was a rhythmic, almost endearing sound, as if someone were deeply asleep. The tension that had flared so violently eased, and his vision widened.

Jillian’s gaze slowly traced the figure before him.

A shadow stood against the darkness of the night…

The King of the South, Cartan of Prosperity.

The master of those vast lands had jet-black hair and eyes as dark as the fertile earth he ruled.

“Ah…”

Jillian let out a soft, amused sigh.

There was no way he wouldn’t recognize that face.

Though they had no direct interactions, Jillian knew him well enough. He had once seen this man in the imperial palace, casting a lecherous gaze at Bianca as she passed by.

At the time, he had thought the fool would let his desires slip through his fingers, lost in his daze. Yet, it seemed the man had been more cunning than expected—keen enough to recognize his own yearning and bold enough to pursue it.

Opportunistic enough to strike when the master of the house was away.

But in the end, a rat was still just a rat.

Jillian clenched and unclenched his hand, shaking off the numbness from the excessive power he had just wielded. Then, his voice cut through the night air like a blade, icy and sharp.

“Does the southern rat know neither shame nor honor? Crawling uninvited into another’s home, chattering away so brazenly?”

Crunch.

Frost that had settled overnight crumbled beneath his damp boot.

“Or is it that you lack the intelligence to think about such things?”

“To bark at me even while knowing who I am… Your mouth is filthier than I expected.”

“As you said, I am a beast with a master. My loyalty lies solely with Termina, I have no interest in anything else.”

Crunch.

As they exchanged unpleasant words, the distance between them shrank at a terrifying pace.

If Jillian wanted to, he could sever the young emperor’s neck in an instant.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he mercifully stepped aside, offering a path forward.

“The snow has stopped. You should turn back now, don’t you think?”

“I’m rather curious to see how long you can keep up this arrogance.”

The wind grazed the emperor’s cheek, cold and biting.

Jillian watched him with a chilling smile.

“How pitiful… The news you’re waiting for will never come.”

“Should I respond by saying your arrogance won’t last much longer either?”

Though his disinterest in this exchange was obvious, Izar still answered every remark.

He was stalling for time.

But it was too late. The brutal clash of weapons had already ceased moments ago.

Jillian tilted his head, lips quirking into a smirk.

He didn’t know which side had survived. But that didn’t matter.

What mattered was this…

The steady, peaceful breathing he heard meant one thing:

She was here.

“I’m going home now. If what remains is a rat, I’ll deal with it accordingly. If what remains is a knight of Baloch, I’ll give them a fitting reward.”

“How long do you think you can keep up this arrogance?”

In a blink, Jillian closed the remaining distance and grabbed Izar by the collar.

“Izar Cartan. I’ll grant you mercy—take what’s yours and leave.”

“Kh… What…?”

Jilliatn looked down at Izar, whose temple throbbed with veins as he gasped for air under the grip choking his throat.

Those golden eyes, now narrowed, gleamed with something ominous.

“It’s unfortunate that you don’t know your place. But today, I’ll recognize your excellent taste and let you go in one piece.”

“Khh…”

“As the so-called ruler of the South, you mean nothing to me. No tricks will work on me, consider that a warning.”

His tone was utterly dismissive, treating the sovereign of a vast land as if he were insignificant.

Izar said nothing.

He was at an absolute disadvantage. If only he had a little more time… just a little more.

His eyes flicked toward the fortress, anxious. It should have happened by now.

But he already knew…

Even if he had taken the princess, it wouldn’t matter.

Not now that Baloch had returned.

Unless he had escaped with her beforehand, there was no way this beast would allow her to be taken before his eyes.

Jillian had no hesitation when it came to slaughtering monsters—what made them think he would hesitate here?

What miserable luck.

Just as Izar resigned himself to waiting for another chance…

“Take your rats and get out.”

His collar, which had been held in an iron grip, was suddenly released, and he was flung backward.

Cough, cough.

As his airways finally opened, Izar collapsed onto the ground, hacking violently.

“Before I retract my misplaced mercy.”

Crunch.

Jillian’s steps were light as ever.

“Ha… What a ruthless *****.”

 

***

 

For two hours now, the battle had dragged on.

Julie pressed her hand tightly against her slashed side, laughing weakly.

Warm liquid seeped between her fingers, flowing ceaselessly.

With blood loss and the lingering effects of the sleeping incense, even keeping her eyes open had become a struggle.

But she refused to give in.

There was still work to be done.

The footman and the merchant, despite their disguises, had proven to be formidable opponents.

Without the duke present to pass judgment, they had no choice but to subdue them rather than kill them, and the effort had cost them dearly.

Julie wasn’t the only one wounded. Rappin, too, bore countless cuts, deep and shallow alike.

“Are you alright?”

Julie scoffed at the question, looking at Rappin, who was just as bloodied.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? My wound is just on my side—it’ll heal. But what about you? Your right arm is barely hanging on.”

“It’s fine. It hasn’t fallen off yet, thankfully.”

Even in the face of mockery, Rappin answered with deadpan sincerity.

“You idiot! That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?”

“Why did you take the blow for me?!”

The merchant in disguise had already collapsed unconscious.

The one who caused trouble until the end was the footman. He wielded his sword viciously until the very last moment.

Seeing firsthand what it means to sacrifice flesh to take bone was something Julia never expected. The footman intentionally allowed Julia’s attack to land before swinging his dagger wide.

If not for Rappin pulling Julia back into an embrace to shield her, she would have been beheaded on the spot.

But thanks to that, Rappin’s arm was ruined. Blood poured ceaselessly from the deep wound. His normally stoic face had turned pale long ago, no doubt because he had been forced to keep moving without time to staunch the bleeding.

Seeing him like that made rage bubble up inside Julia. The wound was too severe. And it was his right arm. Would he ever be able to wield a sword again?

“I’m fine,” Rappin said.

“Who said anything?”

“I still have my left hand.”

“Do you think you’re Benson? Where do you get off talking like that? We haven’t even stitched it up yet!”

Because of her lack of skill, Julia had been unable to fully defeat the second fortress battalion commander. The guilt weighed heavily on her, making her cry as she shouted.

“If it doesn’t work out, I’ll rip off this *****’s arm and give it to you instead! So—!”

“I’ve always wondered,” a clear voice suddenly cut through the blood-soaked room. “Why do you all keep forgetting about potions?”

Julia’s eyes widened at the familiar voice.

“Duke?”

“Rappin is a mess.” And so are you.

Jillian entered the wrecked duchess’s bedroom with light steps, clicking his tongue at the disaster.

“Are they dead?”

“No, we handled them just enough to await your judgment.”

“Then—”

Without finishing his sentence, Jillian pulled a potion from his coat, uncorked it, and poured it directly over Rappin’s wound.

As the softly glowing liquid touched his skin, the gaping wound in his forearm seemed to reverse time itself, slowly knitting back together.

Drip.

A mixture of blood and pink potion dripped from Rappin’s limp fingertips, and a gasp of amazement filled the room.

“It—it’s healed!”

Jillian simply nodded toward Rappin.

“Hand them over to their master.”

“…Just like that?”

“Killing them would be too merciful.”

“But—”

“Sometimes, staying alive is a greater punishment. Let them stew in the regret of tonight for the rest of their lives.”

Rappin bowed silently and gathered up the two unconscious men, slinging them over his shoulder before leaving the room.

“You.”

“Yes, Duke?”

Jillian handed Julia a potion bottle, though it was noticeably smaller and less radiant than Rappin’s. All the high-grade ones had been used on the battlefield, leaving only this.

“This is all I have left. How about it? It’s weaker than Rappin’s, so it won’t fully heal you.”

“It’s better than whatever Benson would’ve done. Thank you.”

Julia didn’t hesitate. Her wound wasn’t fatal, but the long gash along her side made movement difficult.

She quickly poured the potion over the injury. A strange, refreshing sensation washed over her as the wound began to close. But as Jillian had warned, it didn’t heal completely.

On the surface, it looked fine, but every breath still sent a chilling pain through her spine.

As she panted softly, Jillian, who had been about to leave, suddenly paused.

“Are you disappointed?”

“No, I’m grateful you healed Rappin.”

And she meant it. The deep wound that had exposed his very bones had seemed beyond hope.

“By the way, how did they get in?”

“They disguised themselves as a merchant group to enter Baloch’s domain, then claimed they couldn’t use teleportation magic because of the snowfall, begging for shelter.”

“They made it so our kind madam had no choice but to let them in.”

Jillian rattled off the obvious answer without hesitation before suddenly asking, “The other ones are still missing, right?”

“Huh?”

Julia had thought they were finished, but at his words, her face paled.

The other ones?

“Did you really think only one of them would be lurking around?”

Jillian scoffed knowingly.

“No one else is to be allowed into this castle from now on.”

“Yes, Duke.”

“No exceptions—not children, not the elderly.”

“Understood.”

After all, their enemy had been insane enough to attempt kidnapping the Duchess of Baloch. Who’s to say they wouldn’t resort to using boys or old men next?

“Um… who exactly is behind this?”

The crown prince? The emperor? If they knew their opponent, they could better prepare…

“The ones obsessed with Bianca.”

“…Excuse me?”

“There are too many of them, so from now on, no males are to enter my castle.”

If they freeze to death outside, so be it.

Jillian strode forward, pushing aside the curtain to where Bianca lay sleeping. It made no sense to keep someone so precious in such a wreck of a place.

Just as he reached out to lift her delicate frame into his arms—

“Jillian.”

Her slender fingers stretched out, grasping at the air until they found him.

Her white fingers clung to his shirt, and for a moment, it felt like his very heart had been seized in her grip.