Chapter 205

“Are you alright?”

A worried voice called out.

At the sound, Scheherazade turned her head.

She met Julian’s eyes—a handspan lower than her own.

“Step back.”

A weakling who only pushed a pen across a desk.

A tenderfoot who was soft for no reason.

That was Scheherazade’s impression of Julian.

It had been the same from the start.

‘I moved openly through the bushes, and he didn’t even notice until he got startled.’

Pathetic.

If she’d had bad intentions, he would’ve been dead without ever getting the chance to defend himself.

And his actions afterward were no different.

‘He just let himself get dragged along exactly as I told him.’

He’d jumped and asked who she was.

So she’d answered without a single unnecessary detail.

Her name was Scheherazade.

A guest from the Sultanate.

Staying at the Frontera family’s mansion.

She’d come out for a walk and happened to see him.

She’d unintentionally overheard the conversation between him and his escort.

So she was going to help.

Without giving Julian any chance to respond, she’d spoken quickly and precisely—only the essentials.

Then she’d stared straight down at his eyes and asked where the rock was.

She would move it.

‘And his reaction was even more absurd. He just blankly pointed at the road blocked by the rock.’

Even that was full of openings.

No matter how wary the escort beside him was, Julian himself looked like a startled rabbit, obediently explaining where the road had been blocked.

‘Lloyd Frontera… is he really the brother of that disgustingly cunning man? It’s almost suspicious.’

Scheherazade shuddered.

Lloyd Frontera.

Just thinking about him irritated her.

So, secretly, she’d expected his younger brother to be no different.

But meeting him now, the younger brother was more clueless than she’d imagined.

‘Just a bookworm who’s good at studying.’

With that thought, she stared at Julian and spoke flatly.

“Farther.”

“Ah, yes.”

Julian hurried back several more steps.

The men lined up around him threw wary glances her way.

They were covered in mud from trying to move the rock.

Escorts who had accompanied Julian from the royal capital.

Skilled knights around the intermediate Sword Expert level.

“……”

But Scheherazade didn’t care.

Whether they were wary or not.

She just had to move the rock.

Help them.

Then it would be easier to get a lullaby from Lloyd.

With that thought, Scheherazade turned to face the rock.

“……”

It was a massive oval boulder.

Even the short side looked over two meters across.

The long side was closer to four.

And it had completely blocked the road wide enough for a carriage.

The road itself had been cut narrowly along a steep hillside.

In other words, the rock had rolled down the slope to the left and gotten wedged in the middle of the already narrow road.

‘Hoo.’

Scheherazade took a deep breath in front of it.

Her hand was already on the hilt of her scimitar.

Looser.

And at the same time, more exact.

Her senses sharpened.

Staring at the boulder, searching for weaknesses, baring her fangs.

Skkak!

Her scimitar emitted an eerie light.

Kwaseok!

One side of the boulder was cut clean off.

A chunk about the size of a fist fell away.

“……!”

Julian and the escort knights’ eyes widened.

But that was only the beginning.

Skakakakakak!

Countless melodies were etched into the air.

Scheherazade’s figure blurred, wrapped in dozens of streams of sword light.

At the same time, the boulder blocking the road steadily shrank from the edges.

No—more precisely, it was being carved away, handful by handful.

Keoteoteok! Kwaseok! Kwaseuseok!

Like chiseling a sculpture one careful stroke at a time.

Or chopping vegetables for fried rice.

“That’s… like peeling potatoes…”

One of the escort knights muttered blankly.

Everyone else nodded.

Peeling potatoes.

That was exactly what it looked like.

That was how shocking Scheherazade’s swordsmanship and power were.

‘Is that even possible?’

A serious question struck them all.

Cutting a boulder in half with a sword was something a high-level swordsman could do.

For example, the very top among upper-level Sword Experts could manage it.

But even those at the peak of Sword Expert couldn’t split rock again and again like this.

Because of the sword’s limitations.

‘In the end, a sword is just a sharpened iron bar.’

What happens if you swing that at rock?

The blade gets damaged.

Even cutting leather or meat wears a blade down.

So expecting a sword to stay intact after repeatedly striking rock was greed.

That was why Aura—which could cut through objects without damaging the blade—was called the strongest technique of a Swordmaster.

But that woman—

‘She’s not using Aura. She’s not a Swordmaster. So how is she… cutting the rock dozens of times, and her sword is still fine?’

Everyone stared at Scheherazade’s back, stunned and full of questions.

Of course, they didn’t know.

Scheherazade was already a single step away from the boundary between an upper-level Sword Expert and a Swordmaster.

‘Heuep!’

The more she swung her scimitar, the calmer Scheherazade’s eyes became.

And the more refined her sword path grew.

Her sword energy compressed tighter and tighter.

Not a drop wasted.

Even as she swung, she used only the minimum Mana necessary to maintain her sword energy.

And then, only for the brief instant the blade touched the rock, she poured Mana in.

For that heartbeat.

She maximized cutting power in that single moment.

She executed that feat in every storm-like strike, in every fleeting gap.

An inhuman level of concentration—impossible for her in the past.

The result of hellish training with Javier.

Of course, she wasn’t fully aware of how much she’d improved.

She was only focused on one thing.

Removing the boulder in front of her.

‘Seuseuep!’

Ssyut-!

The boulder endured well over two hundred potato-peeling cuts.

By the time it had finally been reduced to about fifty centimeters, Scheherazade delivered the last strike.

Cheupat!

The remaining rock split neatly in two.

Scheherazade sheathed her scimitar.

She blew lightly on the blade, hot from countless frictions, then slid it back into its scabbard as if nothing had happened.

Turning to face them all, she asked evenly, “Is this enough?”

Behind her, where the massive rock had been, a pile of fist-sized square debris—diced into countless pieces—had formed.

Julian and the escort knights couldn’t answer.

A smirk tugged at Scheherazade’s lips.

“Clean it up.”

Leaving only those words, she turned away without the slightest regret.

Only then did the escort knights finally come back to themselves and begin clearing the rubble.

♣

Evening came as usual.

But that evening was different for Scheherazade.

Because of what she’d done for Julian during the day, she had been invited to dinner with Baron Frontera’s family.

“If it hadn’t been for Miss Scheherazade today, our second son would have been in quite a lot of trouble. I’m truly grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

A table modest in size for a baron’s household.

Simple but neat dishes filled it.

Over those dishes came Baron Frontera’s gratitude.

Scheherazade shook her head.

“I just happened to see him in trouble while taking a walk.”

“If that coincidence had happened to someone else, something else might have happened. Wasn’t it purely thanks to Miss Scheherazade’s kind heart and goodwill that you turned a coincidence into a good deed?”

“……”

This kind of praise was burdensome.

Scheherazade held her fork and thought quietly.

She’d only helped because she wanted to make it easier to get Lloyd’s lullaby.

So she’d helped Julian’s group.

Why was everyone acting like this?

‘Uncomfortable.’

In truth, she wasn’t used to praise.

She’d heard plenty of flattering words from subordinates, but rarely pure gratitude from someone of equal or higher status.

That was why this dinner felt uncomfortable.

Like being forced into clothes that didn’t fit.

And the family’s atmosphere itself was too unfamiliar.

Too affectionate.

Too warm.

“Yes. Was it difficult coming here?”

“Not at all. The escorts treated me very well.”

“Is that so? They are truly grateful people.”

“Yes, Mother. Besides, as I mentioned earlier, Miss Scheherazade was also a great help.”

“I see. Thank you, Miss Scheherazade. Today our family received a great favor from you.”

“……Ah, yes.”

Scheherazade bowed awkwardly again at the Countess’s bright smile.

She ate her salad, listening to their conversation.

“Second son.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You must have had a hard time studying alone in a foreign land all this time?”

“No. I lived without lacking anything. Thanks to Father, Mother, and Brother.”

“You say that, but this father knows everything. How could I not? The sadness of living alone in a place where you don’t know anyone… Keuheup.”

Perhaps overwhelmed with emotion, Baron Frontera drank three glasses of champagne in a row.

Julian asked, worried.

“Father? Are you alright?”

“Haha. This father is fine. I’m just in a very good mood. Because it’s an endlessly happy day. How could I not be happy?”

“Ahaha, y-yes… you’re right.”

“That’s why.”

Baron Frontera’s face flushed as he quickly became drunk.

With wet eyes, he looked back and forth between his two sons—Lloyd and Julian.

“This father is happy. Because I’m your father.”

“Father…”

“To be honest, I don’t know how to express this feeling. I’m proud of you. I’m the proudest in this world. Is it because you’re successful? Is it because the first son is making a great name for himself and the second son graduated excellently? No.”

His voice thickened with emotion.

“This father isn’t happy because you’re successful. I’m endlessly grateful that you simply grew up healthy and kind. No—this incompetent father is endlessly grateful that I can be your father. I want to express my gratitude even to the fate that sent you to me as sons.”

“U-um, Father… I think you’ve had too much to drink…”

“No, Julian. And Lloyd. This father can give you everything right now. If harsh fate says I must roll for the rest of my life to protect you—this father would happily laugh while doing a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred million somersaults, as long as you can be happy. Are you listening?”

“Eueu… Father…”

Julian’s hands and feet curled up.

Beside him, Lloyd’s duodenal villi curled up, too.

Across from them, the Countess covered her bright red face with both hands, mortified—like she was saying, ‘Why is this man who can’t hold his liquor acting like this today, when we have a guest…?’

So Scheherazade was secretly shocked.

Because he was drunk for once.

Because his emotions had surged.

Because his poetic inspiration was exploding.

Because his unrestrained affection was so intense it made your hands and feet curl?

No.

It was the opposite.

Scheherazade was shaken by envy and shock.

‘Is this what a family is supposed to be like…?’

She’d only seen families like this in kind, innocent stories.

She never thought she’d witness it in reality.

‘It’s… so different from me.’

Scheherazade clenched her fist under the table.

The Sultan came to mind.

Her father.

No—less a father than a ruthless ruler.

How had she lived to be recognized by a man like that?

How desperately had she pushed herself, fighting for even a sliver of trust and recognition among dozens of princes and princesses—just to stand out?

She hadn’t let go of her sword for a single day.

Even when blisters burst and burst again.

Even when her father never spared her a glance.

If she became skilled.

If she became a Swordmaster.

She had lived believing that when that day came, her father would finally acknowledge her.

That he would treat her as his proud daughter.

His child.

It was the same now.

The reason she was chasing Lloyd’s lullaby—

It was all a struggle to become a Swordmaster.

Because she wanted her father’s recognition as soon as possible.

“……”

But now something felt unfair.

Even without trying so hard.

Even without soaking her pillow with tears every night.

Even without comforting herself.

Even without any of that—

‘Was recognition something you weren’t supposed to need in the first place?’

You weren’t.

That was normal.

That was what a normal family looked like.

Being happy just because you’re my daughter, my son.

That was family.

That was parent and child.

But she hadn’t grown up in a family like that.

No—she was only now realizing and feeling it.

And that realization was unfair.

Futile.

Her life, the way she’d lived it.

The time she’d struggled so desperately.

What had it all been for?

“……”

What am I?

Her fist clenched tight under the table.

Her hands trembling.

Suddenly it all felt so small.

Her shoulders slumped.

Her head lowered without her meaning to.

She felt pathetic.

After that, Scheherazade finished the meal in a daze, barely aware of what she was eating or what she was saying.

She didn’t even think about renegotiating with Lloyd, which had been her original plan.

She returned to the guest room and sat on the bed for a long time, blank.

The night deepened.

The indifferent moon and stars rose.

Pale moonlight brushed the window.

And Scheherazade stood as if possessed.

She began packing her things.

‘Let’s go back.’

She didn’t even know why.

She only felt empty.

The effort she’d poured in.

Her father’s recognition she’d craved.

Even the realm of Swordmaster she’d longed for—

It all felt hollow and meaningless.

She didn’t want to think anymore.

She just wanted to rest.

‘Let’s go.’

Bbiiggeok.

She stepped out into the corridor.

Darkness stretched ahead.

A sigh of unknown meaning escaped her before that bleak sight.

“Hoo.”

Why was she sighing?

Everything felt pointless.

She couldn’t endure it anymore.

She took a step.

One step, two.

Walking weakly down the hall.

Tears fell too—one drop, then another—sliding down her cheeks to her chin.

Just as she was about to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand like a fool—

“……Miss Scheherazade?”

Julian’s voice caught her sleeve gently from behind.