Part 2: Centum (3)

The snow, which had seemed like it would fall forever, finally stopped.

The path, where the snow had failed to melt, had become an icy road.

Like a seasoned mercenary, Carl changed into boots with spikes from his pack.

“Slippery out here. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’ll manage,” Aiden replied calmly.

The boots Aiden wore were ones he had obtained from an ancient ruin.

They were enchanted with various magical resistances and mysterious abilities.

One of those abilities was Dimension Walking, which had been instrumental in assassinating the demon, Astaroth.

Of course, just wearing the boots didn’t grant unrestricted access to the power.

The two continued walking through the biting wind.

‘I’d like to see a little more expression on your face too.’

Aiden recalled Carl’s words from the day before.

He wasn’t wrong.

In his younger days, balancing noble duties with infiltration missions had required him to feign expressions.

He needed them to avoid suspicion.

But as he grew stronger, the need for expressions faded away.

Eventually, he only took on assassination missions.

And assassins neither needed emotions nor the fake expressions to accompany them.

‘Humans need expressions to seem human, but you don’t have any, so you seem inhuman.’

Aiden assumed that was what Carl meant.

But did Carl know?

It was because of his lack of expressions that Aiden had survived so many hellscapes.

The colleagues who smiled too brightly or cried too easily—those were the ones who died first.

For an assassin, emotions and expressions were luxuries.

Aiden allowed himself a brief, bitter thought:

If he were ever to share his past with Carl—a scenario that would never happen—how would Carl react?

‘You’ve endured a lot. Why not indulge in a little luxury now that you’ve retired?’

Aiden could already hear Carl’s voice echoing in his mind. It wasn’t difficult to anticipate Carl’s perspective.

All Aiden had to do was think in the opposite direction of his own.

The journey lasted nearly ten days.

On the tenth night, they arrived at Centum, a mid-sized town Carl called home.

“Ever been to the North before?” Carl asked.

“No, this is my first time,” Aiden replied with a shake of his head.

For some reason, he had never crossed paths with the northern regions of the Grand Duchy.

“The land’s harsh, but the scenery and the people are great. I think you’ll like it.”

“I hope so.”

The two conversed idly as they walked.

The chilly weather had cleared the streets of most passersby. Those who remained hurried along, bundled tightly in their coats.

However, their footsteps drew attention. People began sneaking glances their way.

Aiden pulled up the hood of his robe.

“Why hide such a handsome face?” Carl teased.

“I dislike the attention,” Aiden replied.

“Tsk, I wish I could say something like that. How does it feel to live with a face like yours?”

“Troublesome,” Aiden answered with his usual calm.

For once, Aiden silently cursed his master.

Using his real name wasn’t an issue, but showing his face? That brought all sorts of inconveniences. And since it was an order, he couldn’t disobey…

At that moment, a man rushed out of an alleyway and bumped into Carl.

But it was the man who stumbled back and fell.

“Watch where you’re going in an alley like that,” Carl scolded.

“I’m sorry. You’re not hurt, are you?” the man said, standing and bowing respectfully.

“Be more careful next time. You could hurt yourself or someone else. Don’t go running blindly around corners.”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry,” the man stammered before hurrying off.

The two continued past the square and toward the taverns on the town’s outskirts.

“What’s your first impression of Centum?” Carl asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

“Disappointing. I got pickpocketed on the first day,” Aiden replied bluntly.

“Pickpocketed? What are you—oh…”

Carl chuckled but quickly paled as he patted his pockets. The man from earlier flashed in his mind.

And just as he feared, his coin pouch was gone.

His chest tightened.

All his retirement money had been in that pouch.

“That bastard! No wonder he stumbled back so dramatically. It was all to distract me.”

“……”

“I’m sorry, but I have to find that guy and get my money back. That’s my lifeline.”

“There’s no need,” Aiden replied.

“What? Why not?”

Instead of answering, Aiden pulled two pouches from his coat.

Carl’s eyes widened.

“Oh! That’s my pouch! But what’s the other one?”

“The pickpocket’s,” Aiden said nonchalantly.

*  *  *

“This is where we’re staying tonight,” Carl announced, stopping in front of a tavern.

The sign read Carl’s Tavern.

The building was on the outskirts of the tavern district and looked quite run-down.

“Is this your tavern?” Aiden asked.

“What makes you think that?” Carl replied with a grin.

“It’s called Carl’s Tavern.”

“My name’s pretty common, you know. Could just be a coincidence.”

“You were humming the whole way here. That’s more enthusiasm than you’d have for just visiting a regular spot.”

“……”

“And coming here straight after retiring instead of heading home is suspicious.”

Carl shook his head in disbelief. He might be able to fool a god, but he couldn’t fool Aiden.

“By the way, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“What is it?”

“The pickpocket. With your skills, you could’ve stopped him before he got to me. Why didn’t you?”

“I thought it’d be a good reminder to stay alert,” Aiden replied matter-of-factly.

“Tch. I give up. You win.”

Carl raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I can’t beat you, not in strength, not in words.”

“Anyway, you’re right. This tavern’s run by my family.”

“Is the business struggling? Is that why you became a mercenary?”

“That’s a long story for another time,” Carl deflected.

“……”

“Stay as long as you want. You’ve done so much for me. No charge for food or lodging.”

“I don’t like special treatment,” Aiden said, holding out the pouch he’d taken from the pickpocket.

Carl hesitated but accepted the money.

Creaaak!

Carl pushed open the tavern door and stepped inside, followed by Aiden.

The tavern was modest, with just seven tables and not a single customer in sight.

Behind the counter, a woman was dozing off, her head bobbing slightly.

The second floor, accessible via a staircase, appeared to house several rooms.

“Welcome to… Oh! Father?”

“My daughter! I’m home!”

“Father!”

The woman behind the counter ran to Carl in a single step and threw herself into his arms. Carl hugged her tightly, patting her back gently.

As the commotion grew in the hall, a middle-aged woman emerged from the kitchen. She, too, rushed to Carl and embraced him without hesitation.

Carl opened his arms wide, pulling both women into a warm hug.

Aiden silently watched the scene unfold.

‘So this is what family looks like… and what it means to be welcomed.’

Aiden had never received such treatment in his life.

Even after completing a mission and returning alive, no one had ever greeted him this warmly.

It wasn’t envy he felt… more like curiosity.

“Who’s the person standing behind you?”

“Oh, right. I forgot to introduce him. This is Aiden. He’s a good friend who saved my life—twice.”

Carl introduced Aiden to his family.

The woman from the counter was Lucy, Carl’s only daughter. The middle-aged woman was Lyra, Carl’s wife.

After briefly stating his name, Aiden added that he was just a traveler.

“Nice to meet you, Aiden. It’s cold outside, and you must be hungry. Let’s start with a meal,” Lyra suggested.

At her invitation, Carl and Aiden sat at the dining table.

Before long, a modest yet sumptuous dinner was served. Shredded turkey, soup, and salad graced the table.

“Are you a noble, by any chance? I hope I haven’t been too casual with you.”

“It’s fine. I’m a commoner.”

“You look so refined; I almost thought you were an aristocrat.”

“I get that a lot.”

Though Aiden hadn’t intended to joke, both Lucy and Lyra burst into giggles.

“How’s the food? Does it suit your taste?”

“Yes, it’s delicious.”

It wasn’t an empty compliment.

The food was genuinely decent, but more than that, it had been so long since he’d eaten something warm.

During missions, he often subsisted on jerky, and during rest periods, he would fast entirely. Appetite had always been an obstacle to both assassination and training.

“It’s been three years since you left home. I often wondered what you were up to during that time, Father.”

“Why? I wrote letters regularly, didn’t I?”

“Anyone could have written those for you, and even if you weren’t okay, you could have said you were.”

“I’m terrible at hiding things, you know. If I had struggled, you would’ve known.”

“We worried for nothing, then. If anything, you seem to have gained weight, Dad.”

The three of them laughed, their conversation flowing easily, while Aiden silently listened.

‘This is an ordinary life. A normal life.’

He wondered how things might have been different if his parents hadn’t died from the plague.

Would he have grown up in a harmonious family like this?

It was hard to picture himself living such a life.

Imagining a scenario he’d never experienced was difficult.

His parents had passed away far too early, and Aiden had endured constant mistreatment from his relatives before finally running away.

‘If you don’t have a family, you can always create one. Someone like you could manage that just fine.’

If Carl knew about Aiden’s past, perhaps he would’ve said something like this.

These days…

At the end of every thought, Carl’s presence lingered in Aiden’s mind.

Unconsciously, Aiden realized how much Carl was starting to influence him.

“I feel like we’ve been chatting among ourselves too much. Sorry about that, Aiden.”

Lyra smiled apologetically.

“You haven’t seen each other in a while. It’s perfectly fine. I’ll head upstairs first.”

“Rest well. Lucy, show Aiden to his room, will you?”

“Sure, Mother.”

Lucy stood and gestured for Aiden to follow her.

She slowed her pace to walk alongside him.

“How old are you, by the way?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Wow! Same as me! Let’s drop the formalities and talk casually, then?”

Aiden nodded, a rare gesture for him. Normally, he wouldn’t have agreed, but…

One of his retirement tasks was to befriend ten people.

For someone like Aiden, who couldn’t even define the word ‘friend,’ this was far harder than assassinating Astaroth.

“You’re not leaving right away, are you?”

“I’ll stay for a few more days. Probably.”

“Great! I’ll give you a tour of the town. There’s a lot to see here, surprisingly.”

Lucy winked at him playfully.

Their small talk came to an end as they reached the room at the far end of the second-floor hallway.

After saying goodbye to Lucy, Aiden stepped into the room and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

When he closed his eyes, darkness engulfed him.

Being alone was comfortable, and solitude had become second nature.

*  *  *

That same night, before dawn, Aiden sat silently with his eyes shut.

He wasn’t sleeping.

He was training.

Using the power of the ‘Realm of Illusions,’ he fought imaginary battles against unknown enemies.

Within the illusion, Aiden mercilessly cut down the foes swarming before him.

Ancient heroes, demons, gods—he spared no one.

Unleashing his full potential, Aiden rampaged across the battlefield.

With every swing of his dagger, enemies fell, even those who weren’t directly touched.

The space around him turned into a massacre. Corpses piled high where he’d passed.

A one-sided festival of slaughter.

Blood was like wine, screams were a symphony, and the enemies’ movements a deathly dance.

Beneath a crimson sky.

Upon a blackened earth.

Aiden eventually stood alone.

When the training ended, Aiden opened his eyes.

The thrill of combat lingered in his body.

Muscles twitched, and his nerves hummed with tension.

‘How many could I kill in this state?’

He asked himself the question.

No matter who came to mind, he couldn’t imagine losing—except for one.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

Aiden chuckled bitterly.

Now that he was retired, albeit reluctantly, he wondered if there was any point in holding on to his past.

Getting out of bed, he opened the window and leapt down lightly. The window closed on its own with a nod of his head.

Without using mana, Aiden ran through the town.

As always, the town was ghostly quiet.

The biting cold had driven everyone indoors, leaving the streets deserted in the early hours.

As he ran, Aiden memorized the town’s layout.

Buildings, signs, and the labyrinthine streets carved themselves into his mind like a map.

It was a habit ingrained from years of assassination.

Securing entry and escape routes was the foundation of the craft.

How long have I been running?

Aiden’s sharp senses caught something.

Clink. Clink.

In the distance, the sound of metal echoed.

Voices followed.

From the noise, Aiden deduced that a patrol of town guards in armor was making their rounds.

They were coming from the front, about 100 meters away.

Four guards in total.

“Damn it, it’s freezing out here. Is it really necessary to patrol in this weather?”

“We have to. What if we run into that guy?”

“That guy? You mean Jack?”

“Yeah, Jack. That psycho killer. I heard he even took out a Sword Expert-ranked mercenary recently.”

“Well, what good is this armor if we’re dead meat anyway? If I’m going to die, I’d rather do it warm.”

The guards grumbled as they walked.
 

To be continued

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