“It can’t be helped… How could any master assassin possibly… hand over the Black List to an outsider for personal reasons…!”
Towah finally lost his temper.
“That assassin must’ve had quite an unusual personality, it seems.”
“The person who was present at the scene back then mentioned that the assassin was rather worldly despite his profession.”
“See! I knew it would come to this!”
“My, my, what an extraordinary coincidence. Sir Drey, how is it that you know everything so thoroughly?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes?”
“I clearly said it! I believed you could assist with this matter!”
“…Ah.”
No.
Things have come to this.
Rishe felt a vague sense of frustration, not fully understanding the situation.
“Mm…”
Towah, watching their exchange with a blank stare, gave up on trying to understand.
***
“Then, what do we do? Should we simply write ‘Face Thief’ on this parchment?”
Rishe moved to place the ink pen, which he had withdrawn at some point, on the parchment.
“Wait, hold on!!!”
Both Towah and Drey panicked and stopped him.
“Perhaps I’m using this the wrong way?”
Rishe scratched the back of his head with the pen, turning to the others for guidance.
This time Drey chuckled faintly.
“What makes you ask me, when —”
“I thought you understood well because you immediately recognized the nature of this item.”
“I only mentioned the name based on rumors I’ve heard. I don’t actually know much about it.”
“Such an important moment, and this is what you decide to say?”
“Yes. You, after all.”
Drey’s casual tone left Rishe feeling frustrated again.
Seriously?
How can someone be this reckless, yet somehow always right?
“Sir Towah, are you also unfamiliar with this object?”
Of course not, fool.
Towah glanced at him wearily. His once sharp gaze had softened from the stress of the situation.
“Then, let’s tentatively inscribe ‘Face Thief’ on the parchment. You did mention that this person was once the Master of the Assassin’s Guild, correct? Perhaps this item was given by someone of the same organization.”
“No, no. Wait, Rishe. Are you sure this is alright? Is it truly appropriate to use this item like this?”
“…”
Rishe scratched his head, looking conflicted.
“To be honest, this item is… difficult for me to use. You see, I rarely hate someone enough to kill them. The only person who comes to mind is my father.”
“?”
“?!”
“That said, even that is a thing of the past now. I don’t have anyone specific in mind at the moment, and I doubt that will change in the future. Thus, I think using it to assist you two might not be such a bad choice. Since you both seem to understand the value of this item, I trust you will compensate me for it, as is only fair, right?”
“…”
“…”
The expressions of the two darkened as their brows furrowed.
Pay the price of the Black List?
“Rishe, let’s put this item aside for now.”
“Yes?”
Towah hesitated, his expression complicated.
“I assumed this was urgent since someone of your standing took the trouble to show up.”
“It is urgent.”
“But why?”
“That’s not the issue, it’s…”
Towah, still inexperienced in dealing with Rishe, was thrown off, allowing Drey to chime in instead.
“While I didn’t expect this, even the metaphorical use of such a phrase toward a Face Thief seems too extreme. This feels akin to slaughtering chickens with a knife meant for cattle.”
Whether considering the awesome power of the item or its astronomical value, both were justified.
Right now, even if a significant faction like Mastien or Dravellan, two of the leading noble families controlling parts of the continent, wanted to pay for such an item, they might have to forfeit one of their grand pillars.
“And this item moves not just one assassin but an entire organization.”
“…”
Rishe stared intently at the parchment.
An item that can move an entire organization?
‘What has that person given me?’
Judging from reports, this was far beyond something appropriate as a personal favor.
Initially, such an item wasn’t meant to be shared, especially from the perspective of a Master Assassin.
He inexplicably felt sympathy for the completely unknown members of the Assassin’s Guild.
“Shameful. I truly wanted to assist the two of you.”
Rishe reluctantly put the parchment away.
“Haa.”
Without realizing it, both high-ranking nobles exhaled in relief.
“By the way, Sir Towah, may I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Why is it that the Dravellan family is tracking this Face Thief? The murder of a hero is quite a severe crime indeed, but why go to such lengths, deploying specialized forces from the knight units?”
“He was sponsored by our family.”
“Ah.”
In a moment, Rishe understood.
It was common for noble families to sponsor artists or adventurers to enhance their reputation.
‘With a great noble family, even their sponsorship level is extraordinary.’
At that moment, Drey spoke, trying to clear up the chaotic atmosphere.
“So, do you have a plan? How do you intend to find this Face Thief hiding somewhere within this vast city?”
“Judging by his actions so far, he won’t leave the city until his objective is achieved. Plus, he won’t stay hidden quietly.”
“What is his objective?”
“What else? Stealing faces, obviously.”
“…”
“The man’s methods are so audacious that words fail to capture the extent. He’ll stop at nothing if it means stealing great power.”
“Could this be related to why you came straight to this manor?”
“…”
Through Drey’s help, she had quietly entered Bondales and covertly set up her base at Guse Manor, accompanied by a few elite subordinates.
Towah nodded.
“Yes, there’s much to steal here. So, Drey, and Rishe, be cautious, both of you.”
Towah turned her gaze to Macey standing behind Drey, his bodyguard, who also nodded.
The gathering dispersed amidst the heavy mood.
***
“Huff… Huff…”
Magnus, the captain of the Dravellan Special Operations Unit.
It was rare for someone of his caliber, a 7th-tier expert, to see his breathing falter.
And it was even more peculiar given that the area they were in was a shallow alley—barely more than a spot frequented by riff-raff.
Yet, after spotting a suspicious figure crossing the street and giving chase, Magnus now faced a single individual.
He appeared to be a young man with a polite demeanor despite a somewhat noble bearing, bearing an insignia of the Gray Mage Tower. What was peculiar was the fact that he carried a sword.
“Haah… Haaah…”
Magnus’s state wasn’t far from that of his opponent either. Breathing heavily after their exchange.
Even at their current brink of mutual limits—
The young man’s calm disposition suddenly changed.
“In this situation, there’s no other option. It seems I have to use it.”
“…!”
Magnus instinctively took a step back.
The young man’s aura was far from ordinary.
He sheathed his sword and crouched, resembling…
A large four-legged predator just about to pounce.
“What now…!?”
Magnus steadied himself, startled.
At this point, Magnus was certain.
This man was the Face Thief.
His ability to wield countless distinct swordsmanship styles freely—a feat that could hardly still be called “swordsmanship” alone—was beyond any ordinary description.
It wasn’t an artful use of techniques. It was some kind of force in action.
There was no other explanation than the Face Thief’s unique power.
Moreover, the swordsmanship styles he displayed had included the very styles of heroes. Even Magnus’s own.
The legend of him mimicking a 7th-tier unique sword skill perfectly was real.
And now, the Face Thief was about to unleash yet another sword skill.
Even someone as skilled as Magnus couldn’t help but feel the tension.
No matter how unconventional the swordsmanship, no one could replicate countless styles simultaneously and to absolute perfection like him.
At that moment, the young man tensed with overwhelming momentum.
‘Here it comes!’
A perfectly mimicked yet new sword technique appeared.
Magnus focused all his attention on the man.
“…!”
But even so, Magnus momentarily lost track of him.
The young man now stood directly in front of him, his sword already swung.
The mysterious sword skill was already unleashed.
“Ah…!”
Magnus let out a gasp.
Instinctively, he understood.
He was struck by the blow produced by this mysterious sword skill.
A sly grin, entirely out of place on his usually polite face, spread across his lips.
Magnus braced himself for the pain—and death—that was soon to come.
But eventually, the time that seemed to stretch infinitely returned to its normal flow.
And a while later, they both noticed something.
“…?”
“…?”
Why had nothing happened?
Realizing something was amiss, both Magnus and the young man moved quickly.
Magnus swung his sword toward the youth, who swiftly evaded using an intricate footwork unique to him.
This footwork was possible because he employed various sword styles simultaneously.
It was a clear evidence of his absolute ability to blend multiple sword foot techniques seamlessly.
Thus, their bewilderment grew.
Magnus hastily ran his hands over his body, seeking to identify any injury.
But after inspecting himself thoroughly…
There was no wound.
“…?”
Magnus, confused, stared at the young man.
“…?”
The young man, equally confused, stared back at Magnus.
Neither realized the truth.
The absolute power that had never failed them had, for the first time, failed to steal its intended target.
That his power, too, had limits.
The Face Thief believed the sword skill he had stolen was merely “a peculiar technique wielded by a mage.”
That was incorrect.
That sword skill was beyond human capability.
That was the reason for his failure.
***
