HEO 97

Water dripped from the ends of the golden strands of hair clinging to his chest. His upper body glistened with moisture. Flour was scattered across his forearms, fists, and abs like drops of blood.

Silver laughed in disbelief as he watched him. The bastard was now kneading dough with the very hands that had just moments ago hacked twenty-seven men to death with an axe. And he was doing it with intense concentration. Roll, fold, quarter turn. Roll again, fold, quarter turn.

Well, that’s just how warriors are. The kind who greedily tear into meat in front of piles of rotting corpses.

Silver knocked on the door with the back of his hand.

“What are you doing?”

As he asked, descending the kitchen stairs, Stuffy-Nosed Mouse looked up. Surprise flashed in his ruby-colored eyes, illuminated by the firelight.

“Did you come out in the rain?”

“It’s just rain.”

“Just rain? That doesn’t sound like something someone who’s been sick all night would say.”

“You.”

Silver stopped talking and walked over with heavy steps. Rainwater dripped from the hem of his robe.

“You were pretty good. You took out twenty-seven of them in one blow.”

“Did you actually count them all?”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse frowned as he pressed the dough with his palm. Silver’s mood soured.
Fuck, it looks like I’m paying attention to this guy.

“I was just curious where your corpse had ended up.”

“Is that why you came out in this weather? It hasn’t even been that long since your fever broke.”

“I was just trying to pay off a debt.”

“Fine. Since you’re here, have a meal.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse gestured toward the chair in front of the workbench.

“I was planning to quickly bake some bread and take it with me before the cook on duty arrives. Damn it, the rations they give newbies here are way too meager. By the way, where do you eat? I’ve never seen you in the communal dining hall.”

“In the mountains and the sea.”

Silver sat down in the chair.

“Ah, that’s another way. I was too rigid insisting on the communal dining hall.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse shrugged. Even as they spoke, his hands never stopped kneading the dough. He looked well-versed in kitchen work. The white flour smudges under his eyes, the sound of the dough hitting the wooden [visit our site]board, it all blended with the man like a teacup attached to a teapot.

Yet Silver felt a strange sense of dissonance. The scene before him seemed as peculiar as a long, solitary tree shadow stretching out at noon. It took him a moment to understand the nature of this twisted order.

It was the hand movements of Stuffy-Nosed Mouse. Roll, fold, a quarter turn. The angle at which he tilted his wrist when folding the dough, the technique of keeping the dough ball centered on the work surface, every single movement was precise. It seemed as though his body had reached a state of muscle memory honed by years of repetition. Like someone who had spent more time in front of a kitchen counter than on a training ground or battlefield.

Come to think of it, that servant was a baker’s apprentice.

A damn thought came crashing in like an uninvited guest. Immediately, Silver grabbed the intruder by the uninvited guest and flung it aside. Cut it out, damn it.

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse’s hand movements weren’t special After all, every person in Stoll knew how to bake bread. It was a skill they were required to learn, along with mending nets, sharpening knives, and butchering meat. Even Black Weasel, who lived as a vagabond, had borrowed an inn’s kitchen to teach Silver how to bake. His skill with flour and dough was as adept as the innkeeper’s, and he’d even made bear-shaped bread for the young Silver.

Look right in front of you. Look at that guy’s temperament. Look at his skill with the Stoll language.

Stop overlapping him with that servant!

“Do you know Prince Red Eagle?”

Those were the words that came out immediately after he had scolded himself

By this point, Silver wanted to bite his tongue off. It was far too pathetic a question to excuse as mere impulse.

“Red Eagle?”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse stopped what he was doing and looked up. For a moment, something flickered in his amber eyes. The gleam vanished as quickly as a fish changing course in dark water, replaced by a hint of curiosity.

“I don’t know that prince personally. I’ve just heard stories.”

“What kind of stories? You don’t have to tell me if it’s about the fake prince.”

He didn’t want to hear that story again. They say the fake prince and his servant were on the run for ten days. As the net closed in, one exit after another shut, and they were finally cornered, the fake prince threw himself off a cliff right in front of his servant. His body was never found. The fake prince’s identity and name were handed over to the servant. He nearly inherited the prince’s fiancée as well, but the marriage never took place due to the refusal of the Levenob royal family.

The fake prince, once known as [Read on]Red Eagle. Thinking of that face, frozen forever at seventeen, made Silver’s heart ache. Poor guy.

“Did you want to hear some personal stories? Something like his secret sex life? Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about that.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse moved his hand again. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the lunch menu.

“That, true to his lineage as the son of White Deer, he’s exceptionally talented as a warrior. That he’s plagued by assassination threats from his half-siblings. That the king has no affection for him, so he’s mostly sent to fight on the frontiers. It’s common knowledge.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse brushed the flour off his forearm.

“But that’s surprising. If people are curious about anyone in the royal family, it’s King Bronze-Billed Hawk, without a doubt.”

“Why?”

“Well… Ah, hold on.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse tore off a piece of dough and shaped it in his palm. Perhaps because he was concentrating, [stolen content]his next words sounded slightly half-hearted.

“He’s the biggest talking point in all of Stoll and Atania. He’s waging war about once every three days, vowing to turn Stoll into a centralized monarchy. Everyone expects that once that’s done, he’ll turn his blade toward Atania. In Atania, they call it the ‘Great’ Return of the Thorn Spider King. Even to me, the story of Bronze-Billed Hawk sounds way more interesting than that of Prince Red Eagle.”

“Cut the crap. It’s boring.”

“Crap…”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse raised his head. He looked baffled.

“What? Why? Did that old guy eavesdrop or something?”

“Old man?”

“Should I call him ‘old geezer’? He’s not exactly an ‘old lady.’”

“True. But why are you so curious about Prince Red Eagle?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“You want me to answer, but you won’t answer? Isn’t that unfair?”

“Then don’t answer either.”

“Wow. You’re so prickly.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse smiled. It was a smile that seemed both amused and like he was struggling to hold back his anger.

“By the way. Your name is Silver, right?”

Silver didn’t answer. It was a trivial question, yet for some reason, he felt caught off guard.

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse tore off another piece of dough.

“I heard it from the seniors. They said your name is Silver. But why did you ask me if I knew a guy named Silver? Is there a special reason?”

“No.”

“There is. Right?”

“Think whatever you want.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you what I think. A long time ago, you met someone who looked a lot like me. He was probably from the Stoll royal family. So, on the beach, you mistook me for that person. To take it a step further, that person’s name is Red Eagle.”

“More nonsense.”

Silver retorted without batting an eye. Anyone who wasn’t a drug addict could easily figure this much out.

“Is spouting bullshit your hobby? Did you expect me to be blown away by what you said?”

“A little.”

“So? What do you think?”

“I’m disappointed. You weren’t surprised at all.”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse stared at him while kneading the dough.

“So you’re not going to tell me this either? Are you from Atania? Or are you mixed-blood?”

For the first time, Silver hesitated. There had been a time, long ago, when he had confided even the smallest details of his personal life to someone… Fuck, and that person just happened to be Wolf.

Well, I guess I can tell you about my lineage.

“No, I’m from Stoll. Not a single drop of Atania blood runs through me.”

“You’re from Stoll, so why that name?”

“Silver is a nickname my mom’s lover gave me. My real name is Silver Wolf.”

“Silver Wolf?”

Stuffy-Nosed Mouse’s eyes widened. His hands, which had been kneading dough nonstop throughout the conversation, paused for a beat before resuming their work. Silver tapped the table with his fingertips.

“What? You’re surprised?”

“It’s just unexpected.”

“Isn’t it a perfectly predictable name? I mean, compared to ‘Die Quickly You Little Rat’ or ‘Stuffy-Nosed Mouse.’”

He said it lightly, on purpose. He was suppressing the awkwardness of sharing [stolen content]personal details with a man he’d known for less than a few days.

“It’s a name as common as a pebble rolling on the street. If you walked into any bar and shouted ‘Silver Wolf,’ at least five drunks would turn around. My mom and I both preferred the nickname ‘Silver.’”

Even Black Weasel preferred the nickname. He’d never said it out loud, but Silver knew it. Given his personality, if the nickname had bothered him, he would have just called him ‘Silver Wolf.’