Translator: Roshi
‘To think that a single bag is all I have.’
Galahad clicked his tongue lightly as he shook the leather bag he was holding.
He was proud to have lived diligently, but in the end, all he had gained was this leather bag. He had returned his uniform, now dressed only in the shabby shirt and pants he had worn on arrival.
‘I’m the first to have made it out alive.’
There was a famous story at the Intelligence Agency. It was said that to leave the Intelligence Agency, one had to give up on their life. Once part of the Intelligence Agency, it was impossible to transfer to another department.
The Intelligence Agency was pathologically obsessed with security. If it weren’t for political reasons, they would have tried to erase his memories with a hammer if necessary.
‘They said someone would come to pick me up.’
Galahad put a cigarette in his mouth.
At that moment, a carriage loudly approached. The shiny horses startled the passersby with their trappings. Some people stared as if they were seeing something fascinating.
‘A carriage in this day and age-.’
Galahad squinted his eyes.
As magical engineering progressed, magic-driven cars equipped with magic circles and mana reservoirs became popular, replacing horses. These were comparable in price to horses but cheaper and easier to maintain, hence their popularity. Indeed, carriages were becoming increasingly rare in the capital.
‘It’s a carriage sent by the Grand Duke.’
Having to travel such a long distance by carriage-. Galahad clicked his tongue and headed towards the carriage. A man with slitted eyes was sitting in the carriage.
Thick iron armor, a long sword at his hip, a dagger on the inside of his thigh, and a helmet placed beside him— he was a typical knight.
“Are you Galahad Ambrutan~nim?”
“Yes. Is this the carriage sent by His Highness the Grand Duke?”
“Yes, you may call me Gilberton. I will guide you.”
The man roughly opened the door. The inside was worse off than its exterior. The chairs, wrapped in scraps of cloth, looked more uncomfortable than those in a pub, and there were stains on the walls.
‘This won’t be easy.’
Sending such a shabby carriage and just one man implied that they were not particularly welcoming towards Galahad.
“It’s made of demon leather, so it’s softer than you think.”
The man introduced as Gilberton said with a smile in his voice.
Knowing complaining wouldn’t change anything, Galahad nodded and climbed into the carriage.
Bang, the carriage door shut noisily. The carriage started moving before Galahad even sat down.
“It’s soft, yeah right—more like someone’s kicking me in the butt.”
As he grumbled softly, laughter could be heard from outside the carriage.
Sharp ears. Galahad muttered to himself and searched his inner pocket.
He pulled out a small leather notebook from the pocket. It looked just like any shabby notebook, but when mana was infused into it, it unfolded automatically.
The text inside ranged from scribbles to a neat handwriting.
The sentence written at the very top was—.
[I have possessed a character in a novel.]
It was written in crooked Korean.
Clearly, it was a sentence written by Galahad, but it was so old that the memory was blurry.
At first, he thought he had been reincarnated with memories of a previous life. When he recalled memories of his past life, Galahad was just starting to walk.
It was only after hearing familiar names related to demons that he realized he had possessed a character in a novel.
Galahad quickly reviewed his memories to summarize the content of the novel. That was what this leather notebook was for.
By the time he realized he was possessed, quite some time had already passed.
His memory of the novel wasn’t complete. It wasn’t a novel he had paid much attention to in the first place, and who memorizes the contents of a novel as they read?
Still, he remembered the main points. For example—.
[The world is destroyed by the Demon King.]
The novel had a sad ending. No, calling it a sad ending was an understatement. It was a fucked-up ending.
[Important characters: The blonde sword master, some archmage, mother of fairies, a barbarian using an axe, half-demons······.]
It was written as he remembered. The ending was certain, but he couldn’t be sure about the rest.
Below that, explanations were attached in the imperial language.
[The most likely candidate for the Archmage is the lord of the Twilight Magic Tower. The location is unknown. The blonde Sword Master is likely the eldest daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, the mother of the fairies is in the Fairy Forest, the barbarian who uses an axe remains unknown.]
These were the pieces of information that Galahad had gathered while working at the Intelligence Agency.
Galahad’s goal was a warm and comfortable retirement. To achieve this, he had to prevent the ‘Demon King’ ending at all costs.
Originally, he planned to prepare for the Demon King in the Intelligence Agency. After all, the Intelligence Agency was a powerful institution, often referred to as the mover of continents.
‘But to be the son-in-law of the Northern Sword Master…’
Galahad grimaced with a bitter smile. It wasn’t the best outcome, but it wasn’t the worst either.
The blonde Sword Master was also the most significant hero and was located in a region with a front line against the demons.
As the saying goes, if you want to catch a tiger, you must enter the tiger’s den.
Galahad continued to read the worn-out leather notebook, retracing his memories.
****
The carriage stopped after the sun had set.
“Please get out.”
Gilberton pointed to the back. It was right next to a barren road.
“Are you suggesting we sleep outdoors?”
Galahad frowned. He was the son of a count’s family.
There were villages or castles at intervals of a day’s journey, so he couldn’t understand why they would need to sleep outdoors.
“I was told to avoid contact with the Empire as much as possible.”
“Is this the will of His Highness the Grand Duke?”
“I serve Lady Adrianna.”
Adrianna was the name of the woman Galahad was to marry.
“Well, I should listen to the wife’s words.”
A menacing noise escaped Gilberton’s lips.
‘He doesn’t like me.’
In a way, it was understandable.
Galahad was a mage and the third son of an count, the kind they hated the most. There was no way they would be happy about such a guy marrying the Grand Duke’s eldest daughter.
Underneath that, there were many struggles and conflicting interests. It was a defeat for the Grand Duke in the end.
“You are not yet married to you.”
Gilberton grinned, showing his molars. The malice was palpable, like daggers poking at Galahad’s back.
‘This is dangerous.’
Galahad placed a cigarette in his mouth and smiled bitterly.
Gilberton quietly arranged his spot, adept as if used to sleeping outdoors. His hands moved skillfully as he quickly gathered logs and started a fire. Then he placed a pot over it, threw in some meat, and added stew to it.
‘I don’t want to eat this.’
Galahad clicked his tongue quietly. He already knew these people’s sense of hygiene was trash, but still—to handle meat with hands that had dug through soil and touched logs was the worst.
“Eat. It’s a Northern-style dish.”
Gilberton grabbed a piece of meat and offered it. It was a large chunk, barely seared on the surface, with raw, dripping blood. It wasn’t just rare, it was super rare.
This is considered cooking? It was absurd, but unfortunately, it was not the time to be fussy about dishes.
“Thank you.”
Galahad tore the meat with his teeth. The acrid taste of raw, tangy blood filled his mouth. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed.
It wasn’t clear whether Gilberton had cooked it poorly just to mess with him, but Gilberton too tore at the meat, even drinking the flowing blood as if it were a beverage. Watching that barbaric meal intensified Galahad’s reluctance to go north.
The meal continued quietly. After finishing, Gilberton passed a bottle of alcohol.
“I do not drink.”
Galahad lightly shook his head. Alcohol dulled the mind and weighed down the hands, which was a taboo for mages.
“Oh, you are a mage.”
Gilberton emphasized the word ‘mage’. It wasn’t with a good intonation.
“Yes, a very excellent mage.”
Galahad met his gaze unflinchingly and responded. Gilberton’s brow furrowed slightly.
“You should be careful in the North. Those ignorant Northerners hardly distinguish between mages and demons.”
Such a trivial threat. Galahad felt it was childish.
“Surely the Grand Duke can protect his son-in-law in his own territory.”
This time, Gilberton snickered. He was more patient than expected.
“I’ve heard it’s fashionable these days in the Empire to hunt mages. They say the heart of a mage is quite valuable.”
Gilberton grinned as if it was a joke. He was right. In fact, there had been quite a few records of mages being hunted recently.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m a valuable item, after all. Isn’t it the first exchange in twenty years between the Emperor and the Grand Duke? It was turbulent enough to hear whispers of rebellion, but if something were to happen to me, the proof of their exchange?”
This time, Galahad smirked. Gilberton was not smiling this time.
“I’m quite an important person. Take good care of me.”
The inner workings were unknown to Galahad. Maybe he was simply a pawn whose strings had been cut, but there was no need to say that.
“If you’ve eaten, let’s get moving.”
Gilberton rose from his seat and spoke.
“Are you planning to keep moving without sleeping?”
“Yes, you are an important person.”
“Is that alright?”
“I am a knight, so I can go without sleep for a few days. Are you alright? The carriage will shake quite a bit.”
Gilberton asked with narrowed eyes.
‘He’s annoyed.’
Galahad clicked his tongue softly and nodded.
In reality, the carriage’s seats were hard and it shook violently. It wasn’t a situation conducive to sleep.
It was clear that Gilberton was trying to make Galahad suffer petty hardships.
However, Galahad was a mage. In this era, mages were more for support than combat.
Turning a shaky carriage into a very soft and quiet bed was quite an easy task for him.
For the first time in a while, Galahad slept soundly enough to snore.
****
Knock, knock.
Galahad awoke to an alarm spell. He had slept deeply, feeling refreshed.
He tidied up his space and opened the door.
Gilberton, looking more haggard than before, squinted his eyes.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Very well. How about you? You don’t look well.”
“…It’s fine. It’s common to go days without sleep on the battlefield.”
“I see. I’m fine, so please keep up the good work.”
Gilberton’s face twisted even more. He was the type who was fun to tease.
“Let’s stop by a castle or village on the way.”
“…A castle?”
“I think I need to buy a coat.”
Galahad rubbed his goosebumped arm as he spoke.
“Do mages get cold too?”
Gilberton asked as if he truly wondered. Galahad scowled. What did he think mages were—?
“Of course, I get cold, I’m human.”
Certainly, magic could be used to maintain body temperature, but spells affecting a mage’s body were far more complicated than shaping a bed or blocking out sound.
“Isn’t Garseton Castle on the way? I heard they have good coats there. Let’s stop by.”
“Garseton, you say?”
Gilberton’s response was oddly squeamish, but then, he was a naturally squeamish man. Galahad nodded.
“Understood.”
One corner of Gilberton’s mouth rose.
He really was a very squeamish man.
****
‘It’s cold.’
Galahad muttered as he brushed his hair back. The center region was warm every day, but here it was so cold that it gave him goosebumps. He had to use mana just to maintain his body temperature.
He hadn’t even put a cigarette in his mouth, yet his breath was visible. Keeping warm alone was draining his mana significantly.
The road wasn’t paved with stones, so mud clung thickly under his shoes. Was it really mud? Galahad sniffed suspiciously. An unpleasant smell wafted up. It was mud. Galahad hurriedly put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. The fragrant scent of lemon overpowered the other odors.
“It will get colder as we go higher.”
Gilberton, with dark circles under his eyes, pointedly said. He was wearing a fur coat that looked like animal skin, pulled from who knows where.
“Didn’t you withstand the cold with just your body on the front lines?”
At Galahad’s question, Gilberton squinted. Upon closer inspection, it was a smile.
“Yes, even soldiers dress warmly.”
Pity. Galahad muttered softly.
Just then, a portly man came running up. He was so chubby that he jiggled with each step. The man was wearing out-of-fashion high-heeled shoes.
“Aigo! If you were coming, why did you stop at the outer castle instead of coming to the inner castle!”
The chubby man wiped the sweat from his forehead as he spoke. Galahad glanced at Gilberton. Gilberton looked away as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Aren’t you a guest of the Grand Duke?”
Galahad looked at Gilberton. Gilberton shrugged his shoulders and replied, ‘It’s not me.’
‘There must have been an indication from the Grand Duke’s side about the visit.’
Gilberton had opposed visiting the castle. This visit mentioned by the man couldn’t have been Galahad’s.
“Come in! The lord is waiting for you!”
“Is there a soft bed?”
At Galahad’s question, the chubby man cocked his head and then nodded.
“Yes, there’s also a warm bath!”
“And well-cooked meat?”
“Of course! Our chef is the best around here!”
“Good.”
As Galahad nodded, the jolly chubby man waddled ahead, leading the way.
“Be careful. Many people have disappeared around Garseton Castle, including some mages. It’s a very dangerous place for mages.”
Gilberton suddenly added with a smile in his voice.
“Why mention that now? You should have said it earlier.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Fair enough.”
Galahad muttered under his breath, and Gilberton chuckled softly.
“Would you like to go somewhere else now?”
“You, are you good in a fight?”
Gilberton’s eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected question.
“Fairly.”
“Then keep a good watch. I am a person of importance.”
Galahad chewed on the cigarette in his mouth as he walked on.
‘Is he reckless, courageous, or does he know something.’
Gilberton muttered quietly and gestured towards somewhere.
It was an unusually dark night.
*****
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