The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

“Sorry….”

Following the call of my name, Kellen immediately apologized to me.

Sorry, sorry.

Honestly, I didn’t expect to hear those words from his mouth first.

I thought he might be waiting for me, or he might resentfully ask why I’m only arriving now.

Well, it’s evidence that the personality of the shadow I planted is still alive and kicking.

“It’s because of my incompetence that Master Cyan’s identity was exposed.”

It’s been quite some time since that incident, so it’s funny to inquire about it now, but surviving for seven years since my identity was discovered is not something to take lightly.

They still have something they want from me through Kellen.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t remember well. It may have been a few years….”

I gently placed my hand on his head, mixed with sweat and blood.

Then, I closed my eyes and transmitted mana.

It’s almost like molding the brain.

Perhaps there were traces of psychological torture left behind to find any remnants of me he might still possess.

If it were an ordinary person’s personality, it would have already collapsed and lost its function.

But because it was a personality created with high-level magic, it’s still holding up.

Do I feel any sympathy?

Absolutely not.

He was just a puppet I created to manipulate as I pleased.

He’s incapable of feeling emotions like affection.

If I hadn’t infused a personality into him from the start, he would have probably cooperated with those who created this space and helped expose me.

To think I might feel sympathy,

I haven’t stooped that low yet.

“Be careful. They still believe they can’t handle Master Cyan with their own power. So, they seem to be preparing to create a completely new entity to oppose Master Cyan.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure about that either….”

“Anything else?”

At my truly cruel question, he hesitated for a moment.

“I’m grateful that you’ve finally appeared.”

With those words that sounded like his last will, I swiftly severed Kellen’s neck.

Is it to ease his suffering?

In any case, he would eventually be manipulated according to their wishes if left alive.

He might think like that.

Well, to be honest, I’m more inclined to kill him because I find it too troublesome to manage.

It’s not like it’s a good thing, but there’s no need to keep him alive.

Before long, I heard unfamiliar footsteps from the direction of the door.

Not a group, just one person.

It didn’t feel heavy, but it wasn’t light either.

The footsteps, gradually approaching towards me, came to a sudden stop right in front of the open door.

They hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.

Since I have no intention of hiding, I turned my head to face them.

“…….”

“…….”

Black hair, short cut, hazy eyes, slender figure.

She looks similar in age to me, maybe a year or two younger.

At first glance, she might seem like a gender-neutral male, but she’s a woman.

There’s a gloomy atmosphere surrounding her face.

Unless she’s a fool, she could easily tell what happened in this room with just a glance, but she didn’t show any surprise or reaction at all.

“Did you kill Kellen?”

Instead of answering, I turned my gaze to the tray she was holding in both hands.

A piece of bread and a cup of water.

I could immediately tell she came to give him food, or more accurately, to prolong his life.

“Are you an assassin, by any chance?”

Even with consecutive questions, I remained silent.

I waited silently to see what reaction she would show if left alone.

“….”

She seemed to gently lower the tray she was holding, then just stood there, blinking her eyes.

For several minutes, she remained like that.

“What are you doing?”

I, being impatient, asked first.

“Just standing still?”

“Why?”

“You’re going to kill me anyway. It doesn’t seem like running away is an option.”

She didn’t seem like a palace maid, certainly not a knight, and even less likely to be nobility.

Not only does she freely roam the secret chambers of the palace, but she also brings food here?

A suspicious scent was wafting through the air, irritating my nostrils.

“Kellen’s face. He looks so relieved.”

She said, looking at Kellen’s severed neck.

“He always had a pained expression. Yet he never said a word. I felt sorry for him. But you saved him.”

She had to mention one of the things I hate the most.

“If you’re not an assassin, are you a knight of salvation?”

Is this some kind of unfunny joke?

Observation ends here.

I have no intention of wasting time with petty questions like her name or why she’s here.

As I was about to grab her by the hair and drag her outside,

“…!”

My hand shook for a moment.

More precisely, my right hand.

Even more precisely, a strong vibration came from the Kaeram clenched tightly in my right hand.

I briefly watched to see if Kaeram was trying to materialize,

[…..]

but there was no mist or even a voice from Kaeram.

This was a reaction of rejection, regardless of whether Kaeram regained consciousness or not.

“That’s the demonic sword, isn’t it?”

My gaze returned to her.

“The demonic sword Kaeram, said to inherit the power of the Mist god Aeru.”

She said without a change in expression.

“Seeing that you have it, you must be Cyan Vert.”

To call it a hit is to have weak evidence.

This is someone hearing about me from someone else and deducing me based on that evidence.

Suddenly, the last words Kellen said to me before I cut his throat flashed through my mind.

Did he mention something about preparing a completely new entity to oppose me?

It’s tempting to think they’ll just make a few more puppets, but it seems they’re preparing something more special this time.

“What’s your name?”

I asked her with a stern face.

She opened her mouth with a calm expression as if there were no problems at all.

“Mia.”

“Mia Hafenkus.”

Did it ease my mind a bit?

Or did it add more to my concerns?

Chancellor Kundel mentioned it before.

Just before retiring, he said there was a student at the academy named Hafenkus.

Now, that girl is right in front of me.

* * *

After the one-sided declaration named “Conference” was over, Violet, Aschel, Boris, and Arin gathered again in the Second Princess’s room.

“You did well, Sir Aschel.”

“The credit goes to the princesses, not me. I especially want to thank Princess Arin. You showed an admirable performance.”

“I only did what had to be done.”

“The power of the Holy Sword affecting the entire empire is truly reassuring. Surely, there are no nobles who would refuse the power of the Holy Sword without going mad, right?”

Violet’s expression was cheerful, satisfied with how things were progressing.

“Unfortunately, there was one place.”

It was Boris who broke the atmosphere.

“What do you mean?”

“Among the twenty families who attended the conference, only the Nigriti family showed an intention not to accept the power.”

“Nigriti family, you mean Silica, right?”

Arin, who was surprised, blinked her eyes and asked.

“What was the reason?”

Ignoring Arin’s question, Violet glared and pressed for an answer.

“They said the reason was that they didn’t have any talent to inherit the power.”

Violet immediately realized it was a false reason to cover up the situation.

“It’s common for people to suspect even perfect gems as counterfeits. There’s no need to worry too much.”

Boris easily brushed it off, easing the somewhat tense atmosphere.

“Then I’ll excuse myself for a moment. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Then he calmly left the room alone.

With a somewhat displeased expression, Violet turned to Aschel and asked.

“I’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but wasn’t Boris originally big brother’s man? When did he start following Sir Aschel?”

With an eighth-grade level of expertise rarely seen even in the Imperial Magic Society, a drive that can handle anything smoothly without any obstacles, and an unpredictable diplomatic skill, he couldn’t be anyone but an extraordinary man.

When did he start following Aschel, who was selected by Prince Louisnel?

This has always been a question for Arin.

In response, Aschel answered modestly with a smile.

“It was said that fate brings inevitable encounters. Shall we say we just knew at first sight? It’s about how we can do a lot for each other.”

“Was it a fateful meeting then?”

“I think it’s similar to how I chose the princess from Velias.”

“Your attempt to pass it off seems a bit too much? Well, I’ll just know it that way for now.”

Violet seemed somewhat skeptical but didn’t seem to care too much.

While the three were left to begin the next task, Boris, who had left alone, descended into the palace underground via the stairs.

Only dimly lit corridors followed, illuminated by dim torches.

Eventually, Boris stopped his steps in front of a door.

“….”

As he absentmindedly reached for the doorknob, he was momentarily startled by an unusual presence felt beyond the door.

Soon, he hastily swung the door open.

The pungent smell of fresh blood pricked his nostrils as he discovered Kellen’s head lying on the ground and Mia standing indifferently in front of it, even as Boris entered.

She simply stared at Kellen’s severed head without a word or action.

Seeing Mia like that, Boris cautiously asked,

“What happened, Mia?”

“He came.”

“If you mean?”

“The owner of the demonic sword, Cyan Vert, as Mr. Boris always told me.”

“Did he kill Kellen?”

“Yes. I was planning to feed him and then torture him as usual, but he ended up dead, so I didn’t know what to do and just stayed still.”

There was a hint of regret in her indifferent gaze.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I thought he was going to kill me, but he just asked for my name and then disappeared somewhere.”

Hearing this, Boris quickly scanned the surroundings.

Fortunately, although he didn’t know if it was lucky, there was no negative energy or presence that could be considered life or vitality nearby.

“Instead, he asked me to pass on this message to the person he’s going to meet next.”

“What did he say?”

Her gaze, which had been fixed on Kellen’s head all along, suddenly turned to Boris.

Then, without any change in expression, as if a doll without emotions was speaking, she uttered to him.

“He’s spouting nonsense….”