Chapter 46: Who Are You (1)
Northern Continent, Kingdom of Batevil.
A small city, Felche.
“Hm. I didn’t forget anything else, did I?”
Just past the break of dawn, when the sky was still dim.
Normally, it would have been a ti when everyone was still asleep, but today, the outskirts of the plaza were unusually busy. More precisely, a single man was moving about busily.
Inside a store that was now completely empty, he ticulously checked if there was anything left behind.
“Ah, I almost forgot. Gotta take down the sign too.”
Nimbly climbing up to the eaves using nearby footholds, he took down the sign that had been placed above the door.
Hoo— A breath of air blew off the dust that had gathered on it in a dull cloud.
Snap!
Without a hint of hesitation or regret, the man broke the signboard in half and threw it into a nearby brazier.
Crackle, crackle.
The sign caught fire and quickly burned to ash.
As a final touch, he poured water over the fire, putting it out and completing his clean-up.
“…That should be everything.”
The man who had run a flower shop in this small, peaceful city was planning to leave today.
Despite having stayed nearly a year, his belongings were surprisingly minimal—just a single brown bag easy enough to carry.
That was it.
“Phew, I guess that’s the end of it.”
Looking once more around the now barren store, the man turned to leave.
“If you were really going to leave without saying goodbye, you’re colder than I thought.”
That is, if not for a sudden voice from outside.
“…Elder? And everyone else, too.”
The kindly smiling old man, the woman from the neighboring bakery, a drinking buddy from ti to ti, and the little kid who ca by the flower shop every day—
They were all people with whom the man had ford friendly ties while living in the city.
“Flower boy. We knew you were leaving today, but we didn’t expect it to be this early. You should’ve at least let us see you off. Cold of you.”
“Exactly! Mr. Gilbert, you’re secretly kind of heartless. I told you he’d leave at the crack of dawn, didn’t I?”
“What happened to all the friendship we built over drinks, huh?! You hurt your buddy’s feelings!”
Surrounded by their mix of disappointnt and fondness, the man—now called ‘Gilbert’—smiled awkwardly.
“Haha… Sorry. The road ahead is long, and I’m not even sure I’ll be able to return.”
In a world infested with man-eating demonic beasts…
Even if daylight brought safety, night would always co—and humans were powerless to resist that natural order.
To be frank, he might not even reach his destination safely. He could end up dying quietly, without a trace.
Even aside from demonic beasts, there were countless dangers. And among them...
Humans.
Humans were the most dangerous of all.
‘Even family bound by blood must be buried and forgotten once they die—how could I afford to keep strangers in my heart?’
To grow attached to people—that was the most foolish thing one could do.
At least, that was what he believed.
“I thought it would be better not to leave behind any regrets. For , and for all of you.”
Surely, they understood too.
That he and they would never et again.
The physical distance, the lurking dangers, the unpredictable future… for all those reasons.
“It’s not regret, but mory that we leave behind.”
But the elder shook his head.
“All those joyful mories we shared—they stay with and make stronger.”
“…I see.”
For the briefest mont, the man's eyes turned icy cold at those words.
But as if it had never happened, a gentle smile soon curled his lips again.
“I was being short-sighted. Then I’ll gladly accept your send-off.”
Only then did everyone break into genuine smiles, each offering kind words.
“At first, we were wary of you—a stranger with no known origin. But now we know. You’re a good man.”
“I don’t know where you’re headed, but… I believe in you. I’ll be rooting for your future.”
“Take care out there, Gilbert! And hey, you’re not getting any younger—find yourself a good wife!”
“Oh, hush! You’re so embarrassing!”
The words were ant for soone they’d never see again, yet they felt as casual as everyday chatter.
And sohow, that made them all the more aningful.
“…Hm?”
Gilbert knelt down to et the only one who hadn’t said a word—the child.
It was strange to see the usually chatty little girl so quiet.
He was gentle by nature and liked children.
“Lisa, don’t you have sothing to say to your big brother?”
“Um, well…”
Hesitating, the girl finally pulled out sothing she had been hiding behind her back.
A roughly tied bundle of wildflowers—a clumsy, ssy bouquet.
To soone used to handling vibrant and beautiful blooms, it probably wasn’t impressive at all.
“…”
Rustle.
And yet, Gilbert accepted the bouquet without hesitation.
He sniffed its faint fragrance and gently stroked the girl’s hair.
“You made this for ? Did you hurt your hands?”
“I’m fine. E-every day you gave a flower, so… Lisa wanted to give you a present too!”
At her sincere words, his eyes softened.
“I’m sorry, oppa… Lisa couldn’t make it as pretty as you.”
“No. To , it’s beautiful enough. Thank you, Lisa. I’ll treasure it.”
“…Okay!”
Though he was leaving behind nearly all his belongings for the long journey, Gilbert carried the child’s bouquet in his hand.
“Goodbye. I had a wonderful ti. I hope joy finds you wherever you go.”
With a warm smile to be rembered, he left the city.
Those who remained offered their blessings to the departing Gilbert.
“May the blessing of the god of light, LAMPAS, be upon you.”
A perfectly drawn ending.
──If only it had ended there.
Once he had put so distance between himself and the people, Gilbert did not head toward the city’s exit.
Instead, he turned toward the outskirts.
To the dark alleys, the beggars’ quarters— the slums.
“…”
As soon as he entered the street, the smile he’d been wearing vanished.
With his cheerful expression gone, his face transford in an instant.
Expressionless, cold, and ruthless—his new look gave the impression that even if stabbed, he wouldn’t bleed a drop.
He walked, deeper and deeper into the shadows.
And then, sothing strange occurred.
“…”
The mont he passed a rickety shack, his entire appearance changed!
The frock coat he had worn for travel turned into a pitch-black outfit, easy to move in.
His brown beret beca a black hooded mask.
The cravat neatly tied around his neck turned into a long cape.
“mories make you stronger, huh?”
He touched his stiffened lips and muttered.
“mories, huh…”
Suddenly, his eyes flared with a deadly gleam.
“What nonsense.”
Smack!
He threw the bouquet onto the ground and stomped on it.
Thud! Thud! Smash!
Again and again—until the pure white petals were crushed and stained.
“Haha.”
Only when the white flowers turned black did he smile with satisfaction.
That was when it happened.
“The hell you think you’re doing, bastard?!”
A drunkard stumbled toward him, barely able to stand.
“People are trying to sleep, dammit! You think you own the place?! Buzz off and quit making noise!”
Slurring, the drunkard tried to grab Gilbert by the collar.
Trying to scare him, to wring a few coins out of him—as he always did.
“…What a terrible day.”
Gilbert looked down at the drunkard with a short laugh.
“You talking back to ?! You little punk!”
❓
Like most drunks, he was in no state to judge the situation.
He didn’t even realize how unusually quiet the streets were—when they were usually teeming with the hungry.
“Ptui! Piss off. Let show you how it’s done!”
Truly, his luck had run out.
Shing—
A knife appeared from sowhere, drawing a graceful arc across the air.
“Huh?”
Thud.
The arms reaching for Gilbert’s collar fell to the ground.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
“AAAAARGHHH!”
Only when the pain finally hit did the drunkard scream in agony.
“Ah.”
Bathed in spurting blood, Gilbert bead brightly.
A smile so clear and refreshing it sent chills down your spine.
“I feel better now.”
“S-spare …”
“Won’t you help feel even better?”
Gilbert slowly approached the trembling drunk.
Clink, clink—
He let the long, sharp blades of his knives clash gently as he smiled.
“…Haha. That was fun.”
Monts later, all that remained in front of him were a pool of blood and scattered flesh.
But near him, no trace was left behind.
“Tsk.”
He looked slightly annoyed. A small speck of blood had splattered onto his hair.
“Got so on . I still have a ways to go.”
He gave a bitter laugh and pulled sothing from his coat, tossing it onto the corpse and blood pool.
A teardrop-shaped seed.
Plop.
The seed devoured the blood and remains, growing rapidly.
A thick stem expanded into a small, teardrop-shaped hut, with a tiny doorway in the center.
Without hesitation, the man stepped inside.
The mont he did, the plant withered rapidly, crumbling into powder and vanishing.
No trace remained—not of the body, the blood, or the strange man.
─Who was he?
❓
Elsewhere, the man flung away his bloodstained wig and began peeling off his face—his actual face.
His true appearance was finally revealed: a mysterious man with snow-white hair.
“Phew.”
The kind-hearted flower shop owner, Gilbert, was no more.
What remained was… his true self.
“I greet you, Master.”
At so point, several figures in black masks had appeared, kneeling on one knee before him.
“There’s been a change of plans.”
He smiled faintly.
“All 31 individuals on the monitoring list I gave you—including the citizens of Felche.”
Despite his expression, his voice was flat and devoid of emotion.
“Kill them.”
The masked ones dispersed instantly.
“We heed your command.”
The white-haired man who had issued the order of massacre—and the masked followers who obeyed without question.
They were mbers of an assassination guild. A villainous group known entirely for assassins.
“Useless ddling and nosiness disgust . Originally, I only planned to tamper with their mories and spare their lives…”
He was the one who led them.
Na unknown. Age unknown. Origins unknown.
Almost nothing was known about him, except one infamous title among assassins.
“For daring to speak such nonsense, consider this your price.”
Guildmaster of the assassination guild, Depicio.
Also known as the Hermit of the Mountains.
“─Ah, right. What’s the update on the diale invasion operation?”
He moved into action.
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