The life of a gatekeeper is boring.
The notion of stopping enemy invasions is just a pretense; most gatekeepers end up spending their days checking people at the city gates.
This should be the time to hone one’s spear skills, or perhaps focus on studying and improving oneself instead.
“Booooring, soooo boring.”
Font, the gatekeeper, kept yawning and whining endlessly.
His words weren’t surprising to his fellow gatekeeper, Brook.
After all, Font always complained like this whenever they were on duty.
Every single time, Brook would cross his arms and calmly say,
“It just means it’s peaceful.”
“Pfft, whatever!”
Font stuck out his tongue in obvious dissatisfaction with the reply.
To him, peace equaled boredom. Nothing exciting ever happened in this mundane daily routine.
That wasn’t fun at all.
He hadn’t joined the imperial army to become some lowly gatekeeper but to fight as a knight with a sword in hand!
“Damn it, I should’ve gone the mercenary knight route.”
“You chose this job, didn’t you?”
As Brook said, being a gatekeeper was Font’s choice.
And there was a good reason for that—because becoming a knight wasn’t something anyone could do.
Font’s spear skills were far from exceptional. If anything, they were pretty average.
So among the limited options available to him, being a gatekeeper at the city entrance was arguably the best choice.
It paid decently, and there wasn’t much hassle involved either.
But as time went by, Font realized he didn’t really fit into this role.
And now, nearing forty, it was way too late for him to switch careers and start living as a mercenary knight.
“Do you have any regrets?”
“Why would I?”
Unlike Font, Brook had married early and was raising two kids.
With a family to protect, being a gatekeeper was safe, not overly strenuous, and quite a nice job overall.
The salary was reasonable, so rather than regretting it, Brook was actually grateful to be a gatekeeper.
“Hmph… Hey, wouldn’t it be great if some crazy guy wielding a sword suddenly showed up?”
Though Font often made such bold statements, Brook never took them seriously because nothing ever happened after those words.
“O-oh! Is someone coming?”
Suddenly, Font noticed a distant figure approaching and shouted.
Hearing this, Brook turned his gaze toward the horizon.
There, indeed, was someone slowly walking toward the gate, sword in hand.
Even though they were far away, just seeing the silhouette holding a weapon was enough to raise alarms—it was definitely dangerous.
Excited, Font grabbed his spear off the wall.
Once again, Brook dismissed it casually. This kind of thing happened all the time.
Probably just another wandering mercenary or something. That’s what Brook thought.
However, the person who finally reached the gate turned out to be a young girl.
“Ah…”
Font let out a sigh of disappointment and lowered his spear.
Just a kid? All his excitement vanished instantly.
With a flat expression, Font asked the girl,
“Where’s your ID badge?”
The girl didn’t respond. Instead, she looked confused, as if she didn’t even know what he was talking about.
“If you don’t have an ID badge, you can’t come in. Go home.”
Font gestured dismissively while Brook stepped forward to examine the girl more closely.
After inspecting her appearance carefully, Brook told Font,
“Let her in.”
“What?! Are you serious?!”
Font stared at him in disbelief.
“No matter how young someone is, if they’re carrying a sword, we need to see their ID badge before letting them inside!”
Font had a point.
Ordinary kids might be fine, but when someone carries a weapon without proper identification, it’s impossible to let them in.
Unless, of course, their identity is confirmed first.
“She’s from a noble family.”
“Noble…?”
Hearing this, Font examined the girl again.
A noble? Her?
Her shabby clothes didn’t scream “noble.” It looked more like attire worn by people from remote regions outside the empire—not exactly aristocratic.
As if reading Font’s doubts, Brook pointed at the crest engraved on the girl’s sword.
“It’s the Crestwin family emblem. I heard that one of their heirs left the family to take up the sword. This must be her.”
“…Hmm.”
Font stared at the girl, utterly surprised.
A noble?
Her nails were dirty, filled with grime, and her clothes were tattered beyond repair.
How could someone like this possibly be a noble?
Despite appearances, the purple bloodstains on her clothes clearly indicated she’d fought against monsters recently.
She definitely wasn’t an ordinary girl.
Font still found it hard to believe.
But then, Brook added with a sly grin,
“If we irritate a noble too much, we might both end up as real mercenaries after all.”
“Grrr…”
Gatekeepers are supposed to check everyone for the sake of the empire’s peace.
Except, of course, nobles.
While it’s technically true that even nobles should be checked, they usually throw tantrums or seek revenge if anyone dares to question them.
In this world, doing your job too well can sometimes get you in trouble.
Grumbling, Font stepped aside to let the girl pass.
Finally, the girl resumed her walk through the gate.
Watching her leave, Font turned to Brook and asked,
“Hey, couldn’t she have just explained herself?”
Confused by Font’s question, Brook replied dryly,
“Maybe she doesn’t even want to talk to someone as insignificant as us.”
“Damn snobby nobles…”
“There’s nothing we can do about it. We just have to live with it.”
That’s the kind of world they lived in.
The imperial capital, Garcia.
Sirius finally set foot in the city.
Sirius observed the bustling scenery around her.
People strolling through the streets, merchants selling various goods, carriages passing by, and constables maintaining order.
Everything matched what Sirius had seen in her dreams.
The streets of Garcia were lively, just like the books described.
Everyone seemed to be living peacefully.
Sirius’s gaze slowly shifted toward the grand building towering in the center of the city.
The royal palace. That’s where the emperor resided.
Closing her eyes briefly, Sirius recalled the vivid images from her dreams.
The empire, the emperor, gold coins, swords, magic, knights, strategists, heroes, popes, believers, lords.
All these dazzling and glorious things lingered in her memory.
Softly, Sirius murmured,
“…Peace.”
Her crimson eyes slowly opened, reflecting the image of the royal palace.
Sirius understood the concept of money.
Back in those wretched sewer days, when she lacked even a single coin and starved, Sirius couldn’t comprehend why money mattered so much.
Why people went crazy over it remained a mystery to her.
No one ever explained what it was or how to acquire it.
Even if someone had tried, the language barrier back then would’ve made it pointless anyway.
But Sirius learned a lot in LaBrana.
She learned how to read and write and grasped the concept of money.
Although money wasn’t used in LaBrana, Rafina somehow taught her about it.
Sirius wondered if Rafina had foreseen her eventual journey to the city.
Otherwise, there was no reason to teach her such things.
Now, looking back, she began to understand why Rafina occasionally brought up fairy tales that didn’t even exist.
Apparently, everyone in LaBrana believed Sirius would eventually venture beyond the fence someday.
They prepared her in advance by teaching her the knowledge necessary to survive in the world.
Sirius cherished their gifts and would never forget them.
How could she? They were the first people who reached out to her.
They fed her, gave her shelter, and taught her how to read.
In return, Sirius believed she needed to protect LaBrana.
But no, that wasn’t what they wanted.
They wished for her to step outside the fence, head toward the city, and mingle with others.
To lead an ordinary life and blend into society.
Thus, Sirius resolved to repay their kindness.
To do that, she needed money.
Unlike LaBrana, even a mundane life in the city required funds.
There were many ways to earn money.
Cleaning, as Rael taught her; farming, thanks to Griselle; potion-making skills from Braush; cooking lessons from Bella; and tailoring techniques learned from Mandy while spinning yarn.
Sirius acquired quite a few talents.
But she chose none of them.
Because there was something else she desired.
The profession held by the protagonist in the very first fairy tale Rafina read to her.
*
Not long after Sirius left the village,
“Who could this little rat be…?”
A chilling voice echoed across LaBrna Hill.
Priest Seto gazed at the tombstone standing atop LaBrna Hill.
It bore a familiar name.
[ Yihan ]
Seto chuckled awkwardly.
“I double-checked everything…”
He had confirmed every villager, except the believers and Agarte, was dead beyond doubt.
Not only that, but as a precaution, he severed all their heads.
When he returned with mercenaries to clean up the bodies, not a single corpse remained on the hill.
At first, Seto assumed wild beasts had taken them.
But upon seeing the inscription on the gravestone, he realized it wasn’t the work of beasts.
“This couldn’t be from a villager…”
If any surviving villagers knew about Yihan, they surely wouldn’t have built a grave for him but rather for the white-haired kid.
Which meant someone else who knew Yihan must have done it.
The most likely suspect: Agarte.
Seto found it puzzling.
If Agarte were the culprit, why wouldn’t he have attacked him directly instead of killing Yihan?
Though Agarte was a strong suspect, the evidence linking him to this was circumstantial at best.
Yihan. Yihan.
Seto muttered the name under his breath.
Then he suddenly remembered the kid Yihan had introduced.
Thinking back now, there were too many oddities about that kid.
“Around fifteen years old. There’s no way those old geezers randomly fathered a child…”
Seto suspected the kid might not have been a villager at all.
Besides, he distinctly remembered hearing Yihan mention his own name to the boy.
Agarte became the second suspect.
“…But.”
That kid was dead.
Seto himself had slit his throat open.
