Pale dust billowed up thickly, scattering with the snow on the ground in the northern wind.
The figures of two men who had rolled across the rough cobblestones slowly came into view.
“Ugh….”
I swallowed a groan and slowly raised myself up.
The boy curled up in my arms was, thankfully, unhurt.
Whether from shock or from fear, he simply stared blankly up at me.
“Are you alright, Young Master?”
At my voice, focus finally returned to the boy’s eyes.
Kaireon looked up at me, his mouth hanging blankly open.
A face covered in dirt.
Disheveled hair.
The brat who, just moments ago, had been burning with petty jealousy toward me was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, a shock bordering on awe settled in his eyes.
It was only natural, for I was quite a sight to behold.
“Phew.”
I stood up and dusted off my clothes.
My back was burning.
It was a natural result; right before the carriage hit us, I’d wrapped my arms around the boy, put my back to the ground, and rolled as if sliding.
When I glanced behind me, the back and shoulder parts of the black Behemoth outfit I’d just had fitted were gruesomely scraped away.
Scorched by frictional heat, torn, its inner flesh stained red was exposed.
‘What a waste. It was expensive.’
Sure, I’d gotten it for free, but still, it was supposedly national treasure–grade leather.
“Y-Young Master!”
“Lord Kaireon!”
Then, from a distance, the escort knights ran over, their faces pale as sheets.
Inside the clothing store as well, people dashed out upon hearing the commotion.
“Aaaargh! My masterpiece! My Behemoth!”
The first to run over was, surprisingly, the head artisan.
He had no concern whatsoever for Kaireon’s safety.
Screaming like a parent who had lost their child, he looked only at my torn back.
“Do you know what kind of leather this is! I poured my soul into this!”
The artisan lunged behind me and clutched the tattered leather.
I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.
“Ah, well… the situation was a bit urgent. Do I… need to pay for this?”
Though he’d boasted he would give it for free, I had turned it into a rag less than five minutes after receiving it, so I had nothing to say.
I was wondering whether to tell him to ask Count Aijen for the money if he wanted it, when—
“Pay for it?!”
The artisan widened his eyes and shook his head.
“This is ‘Behemoth’! This is not leather that would succumb to mere damage of this degree!”
“Huh?”
“Look well! This is the dignity of our house’s heirloom!”
He fumbled around in his bosom and pulled something out.
A sprayer with a small glass bottle filled with violet liquid sloshing inside.
And a small mana soldering iron.
Hiss—!
When he sprayed the liquid on the torn part, smoke billowed up with a sour smell.
It was a mana extract solution adjusted to a specific concentration.
And the moment he pressed the heated iron to the wounded area.
Sizzle—!
“……?!”
With a bizarre sound, an unbelievable sight unfolded.
The cross-section of the torn and split leather began to wriggle like a living creature.
The black leather stretched out on its own, tangled together, then fused smoothly as if melting into the heat.
Screeeech—
‘Hm? What? I think I heard a scream…’
The scratched surface peeled off as if shedding skin, and beneath it, glossy new leather sprouted.
In a mere ten seconds.
My back was perfectly restored like a brand-new outfit.
“Hah….”
I was speechless.
This wasn’t repair.
It was regeneration.
“…This is clothes, right? Not a demonic beast still alive… right?”
To my question, the artisan answered with a smile tinged with madness.
“Dead, yet alive. That is Behemoth! Immortal armor that reacts to a specific concentration of mana, never rotting and regenerating forever! Now it has finally met its master and bloomed its ability!”
He stroked my back, overwhelmed with emotion.
Honestly, it gave me chills.
The scream I’d heard when he pressed the soldering iron still rang in my ears.
But no one around me reacted at all.
‘Did it… only reach my ears…?’
After that bizarre spectacle, the escort knights and Count Aijen, who had belatedly come to their senses, approached.
Clank.
The captain of the escort knights fell to his knees before me.
“Thank you! Truly, thank you!”
His voice was trembling.
A situation where the successor of the grand ducal house had nearly perished.
If I hadn’t saved him, all of them would have lost their heads.
“If not for you, we would have had no face to meet our liege! This grace… we shall never forget for the rest of our lives!”
“Ah, well… it’s fine. Someone was about to get hurt; I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”
I waved my hand dismissively.
Then, Kara pushed through the crowd and ran over.
“Bareugeu!”
Without warning, she felt around my body here and there, examining me.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Blood? Bones?”
“I’m fine. The clothes are so good I don’t even have a scrape.”
“You idiot!”
Smack!
Kara struck my back with a sharp smack.
“How could you just throw your body around like that! What about me and the baby if something happened to you!”
Though her voice was angry, her blue eyes were brimming with tears.
I smiled to reassure her and stroked her head.
“I know. I’ll be careful next time. But my body is really sturdy, you know.”
“Shut up!”
Kara buried her face in my chest and let out a sigh of relief.
Count Aijen, who had been watching that sight, took off his glasses, wiped them, and approached.
His face was deathly pale as well.
“Phew… If the Grand Duke’s son had met with an accident at the imperial border… it’s horrifying just to think about.”
He put his glasses back on and looked at me with sincere eyes.
“Bareugeu. You saved the Empire. No, you saved all our lives.”
Amidst the continuing praise, gratitude, and commotion.
Only one person.
Kaireon alone remained silent.
He sat slumped on the ground, staring blankly at me.
As if the surrounding noise was blocked out, his gaze was fixed solely on me.
* * *
His head was buzzing.
What had just happened didn’t feel real.
The firm, enormous embrace that had enveloped him in the moment when the fear of death swept over him.
The shiver he’d felt watching that back get scraped against the stone floor.
And that composure—smiling so calmly while worrying about the price of the clothes.
Everything was shocking.
‘……’
Kaireon placed a hand on his chest.
His heart was beating like crazy.
It was different from the flutter he’d felt when he saw Kara at the café terrace earlier.
If the emotion back then had been possessiveness and curiosity.
The emotion he felt now was…
Awe.
And ‘admiration.’
A tremendous shift in values was occurring inside Kaireon’s head.
In the original story, Kaireon’s ideal type had been clear.
‘Someone strong and noble, who could protect me.’
Suppressed since childhood by the obsession with having to be perfect and by his father’s shadow, he had unconsciously longed for a ‘strong being’ who would protect him.
In the original story, that target had been none other than Kara Wintersword.
He had been obsessed with her, captivated by her martial prowess and strength.
But now.
That ideal had separated.
‘Lady Kara is still beautiful… and noble…’
Kaireon’s gaze shifted from Kara, who was whimpering in worry for her husband, to Bareugeu, who staunchly protected her.
‘But… my admiration, the true substance of strength that I wish to reach—that man.’
An attitude that didn’t boast even after saving his life.
Overwhelming might and the tenderness hidden within it.
The model of a ‘completed man’ that he had so desperately wanted to become but could never be.
Realization struck like lightning.
“I… wasn’t in love with Lady Kara.”
He muttered as if entranced.
“I… wanted to become a warrior like that.”
The moment he realized that the emotion he’d thought was love was actually ‘admiration’ for strength.
And the arrow of that admiration moved perfectly from Kara to Bareugeu.
Kaireon’s gaze changed.
The childish eyes that had blazed with jealousy and spite disappeared.
Instead, the sparkling eyes of a boy gazing at his idol filled their place.
It was then.
“Y-Young Master! P-please kill me!”
A bloodied man pushed through the noisy crowd, ran over, and smashed his head against the ground.
It was the coachman who had caused the accident.
Though his forehead was torn and bleeding, he paid it no heed and begged, bashing his head against the floor.
“I… I was momentarily blinded… Ss sob! I have committed a crime worthy of death!”
“You insane bastard!”
One of the escort knights couldn’t contain his anger and drew his sword.
“Because of you, the Young Master nearly died! I’ll cut your head off…!”
“Stop.”
A cold voice blocked the knight’s sword.
Kaireon restrained his own escort.
“Young Master? But this man…!”
“Sheathe that sword. I’m ordering you.”
Kaireon dusted off his dirt-covered clothes and approached the coachman.
And placed a hand on the trembling coachman’s shoulder.
“Raise your head.”
“Sob… Y-Young Master….”
“I saw. You wrenching the reins at the last moment. It was an accident caused by my mistake in the first place.”
Kaireon’s eyes were unexpectedly calm.
“If you had kept going like that, you would have hit the civilians around us. I saw you turn the carriage toward the wall until the very end to protect the citizens.”
“……!”
The coachman’s eyes went wide and round.
He looked surprised that this young boy had seen through the judgment he’d made in that brief instant.
“A carriage can simply be rebuilt, but a person’s life cannot. Thanks to you not giving up and holding the reins until the very end, a greater disaster was prevented.”
Kaireon pulled a handkerchief from his bosom and wiped the coachman’s bleeding forehead.
“I will not blame you.”
“Y-Young Master… Thank you! Thank you!”
The coachman sobbed, overwhelmed with emotion.
The surrounding escort knights and onlookers watched that sight with solemn expressions.
I too nodded with my arms crossed.
‘Not bad.’
It was a response that made one wonder if he was really the same petty Young Master from the original story.
He was still young, but the vessel of a ‘ruler’ was growing within him.
Having resolved the situation, Kaireon straightened his attire and approached me.
The hem of his coat still covered in dust.
But his attitude alone was solemnly serious.
A young boy whose height barely reached my chest.
But that gaze was no longer that of a petty Young Master.
“Thank you… Bareugeu.”
He bowed his head deeply.
“We exchanged greetings at the restaurant earlier, but I wanted to formally express my thanks again. Thank you for saving my life.”
An honest and frank expression of gratitude.
I was inwardly surprised.
That proud guy from the original story, who had looked down on me as a barbarian, bowing his head to me.
Kaireon hesitated for a moment and asked in a trembling voice.
“You… are you truly the son of Chieftain Gorgon?”
A strange sense of expectation hung in his eyes.
He seemed to want to believe that the source of my strength lay in ‘bloodline.’
Even in the original story, he had often mentioned his father Gorgon when insulting Kara.
That he possessed such overwhelming strength because he had inherited the blood of Gorgon, the living legend of the North.
Only by believing that could he console his own sense of inferiority—believing himself to be weak and talentless, or at least he believed so.
I answered flatly.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Kaireon’s expression darkened.
‘As expected… it’s bloodline.’
Just as the Young Master’s shoulders were about to slump, I added like hammering a nail.
“To be precise, I’m an adopted son. My father-in-law took me in when I was an orphan. Not a single drop of blood is mixed.”
“……!”
Kaireon’s eyes shot wide open.
“Not… not a single drop of blood?”
“Yes. I was an orphan abandoned in a snowfield. All I had was a single axe.”
“……”
Kaireon looked up at me blankly.
It wasn’t bloodline.
He was an adopted son of orphan origins.
Yet he possessed such strength, such spirit.
That fact came to Kaireon as a tremendous shock and simultaneously as a blinding light.
‘Then… me too?’
That realm was so high and distant that its entrance looked as narrow as a needle’s eye.
The space beyond that narrow pinprick of light was so bright that it would blind him to look at.
If bloodline is not a condition, then I too can look upon it.
I can approach it.
Despair changed into ‘hope.’
The boy brought his hand to the wall.
And drove in his first handhold.
He might fall.
His body might shatter.
Even so, he would drive in another.
Bareugeu had now become the living milestone that Kaireon would chase for the rest of his life.
Having gained hope, Kaireon’s expression became much more at ease.
He fumbled in his bosom and pulled something out.
It was the crude barbarian leather mask that Kara had lent him at the restaurant earlier.
Kaireon approached Kara and politely held out the mask.
“I… shall return this. I was rude earlier, Lady Kara.”
There was no hesitation in the hand passing over the mask.
‘I will not cling to you any longer.’
It was a silent farewell and a metaphor signaling the end of his first love.
Kara, knowing nothing, smiled brightly and accepted the mask.
“Oh my, thank you, Young Master. I thought it was lost. You fell yet it’s intact? Thank you for keeping it safe.”
When his first love smiled broadly, Kaireon’s face flushed red for a moment.
‘…She is still beautiful, though.’
One’s ideal type doesn’t change overnight.
His heart racing was an unavoidable physiological reaction.
But Kaireon hastily turned his head away.
This pounding of his heart was merely a passing breeze.
Of course, this spring breeze would cross the seasons and return.
But the wind chilled coldly by snow would always blow from Norheim.
Where the Young Master turned his flushed face, Bareugeu stood with his arms crossed, looking at him.
Kaireon clenched his fist tightly.
Though he left the fluttering of unrequited love with Kara.
The hot blood and admiration as a warrior were now directed entirely toward Bareugeu.