Chapter 41

Chapter 41

There Isn't a Single Part That Isn't a Problem

Darkness had settled outside.

I'd really spent a long time lost in thought.

The cool night air brushed pleasantly across my skin.

Spring had fully arrived, but the Western Palace stood deep in the mountains, surrounded by dense forest with a waterfall and lake nearby, so the air remained fairly chilly.

Holding the bottle of wine in one hand, I slowly headed toward the training ground.

As expected, Cassian was there.

Perhaps because of Leonid's advice, he wasn't swinging a sword.

Instead, he was diligently working on physical conditioning.

You'd think nearly dying earlier today would've been enough reason to rest.

Watching him like this, I couldn't decide whether to call him stupid or hardworking.

Still, now that I'd taken off the tinted glasses, seeing him work that hard didn't look bad.

I sat on the stands at the edge of the training ground.

He was so absorbed that interrupting him would've been rude.

So I sipped the wine and watched him train.

Cassian finally noticed me while running laps and naturally passing in front of the stands where I sat.

The moment he saw me, he stopped and flinched.

After hesitating briefly, he shifted his stance as though preparing to resume running.

Where the hell are you going, bastard?

I curled my fingers toward myself, beckoning Cassian over.

“If you see your superior, you're supposed to greet them. What's with that look like you've seen a ghost? Planning to just ignore me?”

“My apologies. I thought you disliked it when I spoke to you, Saintess...”

Hmm...

Can't argue with that.

If this had been me earlier this morning, I'd probably have answered his greeting with curses.

Though I wouldn't have been sitting here watching Cassian train in the first place.

What should I say?

I couldn't figure out how to begin, so I simply stared at him.

The longer I stared, the more Cassian flinched and shifted awkwardly like a dog that desperately needed to piss.

His pathetic appearance finally made me snort with laughter.

“Um... Did you need something from me?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

I set the wine bottle down beside me.

Cassian stiffened and clasped his hands behind his back.

Why are you standing like that?

Anyone watching would think I called you here to scold you.

“Relax. I didn't come here to start shit.”

“Understood. Then why...”

“About what happened earlier today.”

More precisely, about what I'd realized because of what happened earlier.

I looked at Cassian's face.

Our first meeting had been the absolute worst.

Naturally.

He'd shown up acting like some delinquent in front of the entire Order, then sexually harassed me.

I'd have to be insane to look kindly on someone like that.

But Cassian had changed.

Maybe nearly dying had changed his state of mind.

Or maybe it was because all the demonic energy inside him had drained away.

His hazy red eyes had become deep, calm black.

And he was working hard enough that the Cassian of the original story couldn't even be imagined doing the same.

In that case, I needed to change the way I treated him too.

Of course, all this could still be an act meant to deceive me.

I might deeply regret this decision someday.

But those straight black eyes.

Those eyes like a quiet night sky made me want to trust him at least once.

Even someone hiding evil inside couldn't produce a gaze like that, not even through acting.

...But what the hell do I actually say?

‘I forgive you?’

That's kind of embarrassing...

‘Starting today, let's begin our relationship again?’

Fuck, we're not ex-lovers getting back together.

Saying something like that would sound insane.

I couldn't find any appropriate words.

All I managed was a faint sigh.

Fine.

In that case...

“Follow me.”

“Excuse me?”

Cassian's eyes widened.

“You heard me perfectly well. Say ‘Excuse me?’ one more time and I'll seriously beat the shit out of you.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Cassian nodded vigorously.

Together, we moved toward the weapon rack on one side of the training ground.

“First, let's pick a weapon that suits you.”

“Excuse me?”

Smack-!

“Gah!”

Cassian screamed when I kicked him in the shin, grabbed his leg, and started hopping around on one foot.

“I told you you'd get hit if you said ‘Excuse me?’ again.”

“Ugh... Yes. But could you tell me what you mean?”

“Before learning swordsmanship, we should figure out which weapon actually suits you.”

“Excuse me?”

Grind-

Does this bastard seriously have a death wish?

Is one of the prerequisites for changing class into a Hero being exceptionally good at pissing people off?

“You asked me to teach you swordsmanship.”

“Yes.”

Hmm...

Right.

That answer is barely safe.

If you'd added a question mark after ‘yes,’ you would've genuinely died.

“I said I'll teach you, so first we're finding the weapon that suits you.”

“Really...?”

“Why? Don't want to?”

“No! Thank you! I'll work hard and learn!”

Cassian shouted loud enough to sound like a brand-new recruit.

My ears rang.

I frowned deeply and kicked his ass toward the weapon rack.

“There are all kinds of weapons. First, we need to find what suits you best. Pick them up one at a time and swing them.”

First, the spear.

I use one myself, so I know this much.

His form looked wrong from the instant he picked it up.

“Rejected.”

Sword and shield.

...Hmm.

He's huge, but somehow this makes him look way too cowardly.

“Rejected.”

Battle axe.

Whoa.

He can lift that easily with one hand?

His strength isn't bad.

But judging by that stance, he'll split his own foot open before he splits an opponent's skull.

“Rejected.”

Halberd.

Bastard, the blade is facing the wrong way.

Do you seriously not feel something is off?

“Rejected.”

The weapon that suited him best was still a sword.

Then he should probably keep using the claymore he'd originally carried.

He looked too clumsy for fine blades like rapiers.

And judging by how he handled the battle axe and halberd, something enormous like a zweihander would end up swinging him instead.

That left longswords and claymores.

He had a large build and plenty of strength, so a claymore slightly bigger than a longsword was probably perfect.

Surprisingly, he'd at least picked the right weapon class for himself.

Well, that was a waste of time.

“Good. You're strong and built big, so there's no reason to use something too light. But your movements are clumsy, so you shouldn't use anything ridiculously heavy either. Keep using the claymore. You're comfortable with a sword you're used to, right?”

“Yes.”

Cassian nodded.

“Take your stance.”

And the instant I saw his posture, I covered my forehead.

How the hell do you hold a sword that awkwardly?

At this rate, I doubt he could cut a radish properly.

“...Is there a lot wrong with it?”

“A lot wrong? There isn't a single part that isn't a problem.”

“...”

My head started throbbing.

I knew he was terrible.

But this was a level where I needed to teach him how to walk before anything else.

“I can tell exactly how you've been swinging a sword until now. You never learned the fundamentals and only stuffed your body full of shortcuts, didn't you?”

“...Yes.”

Cassian answered with a bitter expression.

He didn't seem to be mindlessly agreeing with everything I said.

Apparently he had more self-awareness than expected.

Not bad.

If he'd been stubbornly attached to his old habits, I would've worked him half to death trying to strip them away.

“Everything you've built into your body until now gets thrown away. We're starting over from scratch. If you don't have the confidence, quit now.”

“That's exactly what I want.”

Oh.

Spirited.

I like that answer.

“Good. First we'll fix the basic stance. Put your right hand just beneath the pommel, then place your left below it.”

Cassian fidgeted with his hands and adjusted his grip according to my instructions.

“Leave a little space between your hands.”

I approached Cassian's awkward stance and tapped the back of his hand, adjusting the distance between them.

“And your right foot goes forward.”

Then I nudged his calf lightly with my toe and corrected his stance.

“Understood.”

...But why is this bastard stiff as a wooden doll?

I tilted my head at his strangely awkward posture.

Then I noticed Cassian was gripping the sword so hard that his knuckles had gone white.

“Hey, loosen your grip. Planning to snap the sword handle?”

“...But if I don't grip it this way, couldn't I lose the sword?”

Hah.

You think gripping harder means you won't drop it?

“Normally, you hold it lightly. You only tighten your grip at the moment of impact. If you keep squeezing it for dear life like that, you'll wear yourself out quickly...”

I infused a little divine power into my finger and lightly flicked the flat of the claymore.

CLANG-!

“Ghk!?”

Cassian groaned.

Yeah.

Your hand's numb, isn't it?

If you grip it that tightly, every shock transferred through the blade goes straight into your hands.

“After a few hard clashes, your wrists will break and your fingers will go numb until the sword falls out naturally. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“And gripping it that hard makes your entire body stiff too.”

I poked his forearm several times with my finger while speaking.

Only then did some of the tension leave his rigid body.

“Swing the sword once.”

His stance was terrible, but we could gradually correct that.

To estimate his current level, I needed to see at least the three basic motions.

WHOOOOSH-

That was the sound of Cassian swinging his sword.

“...”

Tap-

And that was the sound of me pressing a hand to my forehead.

Why is he this bad?

There doesn't seem to be any hope.

Should I just tell him to forget the sword and learn sacred arts instead?

No.

I said I'd teach him swordsmanship.

If I give up already, what happens to my pride?

And he'd probably be hurt too.

“...Is it really that bad?”

“Yeah. It's that bad.”

His expression drooped like a child who'd had his candy taken away.

His stance itself already looked awkward as hell.

What exactly was wrong?

Ah.

Could it be...?

“You left-handed?”

“Yes.”

Now I understand.

Of course it looked awkward.

I'd been teaching a left-handed man a right-handed stance.

“Wait. If you're left-handed, why the hell have you been holding your sword like a right-handed person?”

Hadn't he been using a right-handed stance ever since the first time I saw him?

If he was left-handed, I should've noticed ages ago.

“...Because everyone else holds their sword this way.”

My mouth fell open at that ridiculous answer.

“Haa... Switch the position of your right and left hands. And put your left foot forward.”

I had plenty I wanted to say.

But saying any of it would only hurt him.

So I decided to get back to the lesson.

Following my instructions, Cassian's stance immediately looked much more comfortable.

That didn't magically make it good.

But compared to before, it was at least tolerable.

Now he looked about as good as a complete beginner holding a sword for the first time.

“Good. The three basic movements of swordsmanship are the downward slash, diagonal slash, and thrust. Most techniques develop from those. We'll correct the foundation first. Start with the downward slash. Raise your sword.”

“Understood.”

“...”

He stood rigidly in place with the sword lifted overhead.

Holy shit.

This is truly awful.

Anyone looking at him would think he was being punished by holding the sword up rather than preparing a downward slash.

“Move your left foot slightly back. And don't lift the sword with strength. Think of it like you're simply supporting it.”

I tapped his body here and there, correcting the posture.

“Too much tension. Relax. Now let gravity help you bring it down. Stop the sword around the height of your navel.”

“Understood.”

SWISH-

Cassian performed a downward slash with the claymore.

Hmm.

Well.

I couldn't call it good.

But it was much better than before.

At least it sounded like a sword cutting through air instead of some club being swung around.

“Good. Next are the diagonal slash and thrust.”

I taught Cassian the three basic movements.

There were so many things wrong that even teaching the fundamentals took quite a while.

Afterward, I ordered him to repeat all three movements one hundred times each, then sat on the stands and watched.

“Hey! You're using too much strength! Relax. You're supposed to swing the sword, but right now the sword is swinging you!”

“I told you to do a diagonal slash, not dance around! What's with that stance?!”

“Oh? Running out of strength? Why are you beating up the innocent ground with your sword?! I told you the downward slash stops at navel height!”

“That pathetic thrust could be dodged by a three-year-old!”

I shouted like that, correcting him every time his posture went wrong.

“Huu... Huu...”

Only around three hundred repetitions.

Well, every time he did something badly, I made him repeat it.

So the real number was probably a little...

No.

A lot higher.

Cassian's breathing had become harsh, and his whole body was drenched in sweat.

“Good. That's enough for today.”

“Excuse me? I can keep—”

“If I say that's enough, it's enough. You're training again tomorrow, aren't you? Proper rest matters too, so stop here.”

And swinging in that state would be meaningless.

You'd just be overworking your body like an idiot.

When I added that, Cassian nodded and lowered his sword.

“You stink, so shower before sleeping.”

I tossed Cassian the towel sitting beside the training ground.

He failed to catch it and took it straight in the face.

Seriously?

Even if he's exhausted, he can't react to that?

The future really is bleak.

No.

Stop thinking so negatively.

Today was basically his first real step.

Of course his arms were shaking and his body wouldn't listen properly.

“If you can't sleep, have some wine before bed. It tastes pretty good.”

I tossed him the bottle I'd been drinking.

That, he caught perfectly.

Well, getting hit with a wine bottle would hurt.

“I'm heading in.”

“Yes. Have a good night, Saintess.”

“Yeah. Sleep well too, Cassian.”

I waved and slowly headed back toward my room.

“...Was I forgiven?”

Cassian muttered while watching Beatrice disappear into the distance.

Her white eyes, no longer filled with disgust, glittered like glass.

Her prickly yet strangely familiar tone.

And she had even taught him swordsmanship.

“No. Not yet.”

Don't jump to conclusions.

I haven't been forgiven.

I was simply fortunate enough to receive one chance.

Don't disappoint the Saintess.

As she told me, I'll wash and sleep tonight.

Normally I would've been able to swing a sword a thousand times.

Now I'd done only around three hundred, yet my whole body felt completely exhausted.

It showed him just how badly he'd been swinging a sword all this time.

“Maybe I'll have a drink before sleeping.”

As he trudged toward his room, Cassian raised the wine bottle the Saintess had given him earlier.

He brought it toward his lips, then suddenly stopped.

“...”

Didn't the Saintess have her mouth on this bottle earlier?

The memory of her casually poking and touching different parts of his body while correcting his swordsmanship resurfaced.

The touch of hands so soft it was hard to believe they belonged to a master spearman.

“Get a grip, Cassian. What kind of blasphemous thoughts are you having?”

He shook his head hard, clearing away the distracting thoughts.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to drink the wine.