Chapter 330

"This bastard is insane."

This bastard is insane.

Kin saw it—just for a moment—Enkrid’s hidden madness lurking beneath the surface.

Beyond his appearance and skill, there was something fundamentally wrong with him.

In an instant, she understood his nature.

Kin had spent years handling external affairs for the House of Baisar, sharpening her ability to read people.

And now, that ability shone.

A lunatic!

What if the Count accused him of insulting nobility?

What if he went back, took offense, and raised an army?

Even the central government saw Count Molsen as a headache.

It was well known that he had a handful of warriors at the level of junior knights under his command.

Or perhaps, they didn’t even fully grasp his true military strength.

Why had he been lying low, waiting, biding his time?

Kin couldn’t even swallow her spit as she watched the Count’s lips.

Meanwhile, Enkrid remained completely unbothered.

What a load of nonsense.

People killed by monsters?

People slaughtered by beasts?

The ones left behind?

And he was worried about them?

A man who had refused to send reinforcements?

A man who turned a blind eye to his own family?

Was Edin Molsen even his real son?

Otherwise, why was his name never mentioned?

Edin Molsen had asked to be sent to Green Pearl Garrison the moment he heard his father was coming.

That was an incredibly strange thing to do.

Didn’t he make excuses about training with me just so he could stay here?

At some point, he had stopped training entirely.

Slowly withdrawing.

Eventually, he had even abandoned the pretense of an excuse.

Kraiss had told him as much.

"He must be a terrifying man.

I mean, just look at him.

But more than that, the fact that he could discard his own son so easily… that’s what’s truly terrifying."

But right now, Enkrid trusted his own instincts more than anything.

And his instincts told him—

The man in front of him was no mere noble.

This was a chimera, a monster that had swallowed dozens of serpents and grown wings.

Everything he saw was an act.

A mask.

It shone, polished and convincing, but Enkrid could see what lay beneath.

And it was disgusting.

"Not working?"

The Count’s demeanor shifted.

He didn’t get angry.

Instead, he spoke in the casual tone of a merchant haggling over a deal.

For a moment, the oppressive atmosphere melted away.

"Not working."

"I heard you saved a child. That you fought magnificently.

That if you hadn’t stepped in, the casualties would have been far worse.

That after that, you risked your life to charge through the battlefield."

It wasn’t wrong.

But if Enkrid had to clarify, there were plenty of details to correct.

Still, he didn’t bother.

What was the point of wasting words?

"Yes, that’s what they say."

"You speak as if it were someone else’s story."

"I’m still recovering from battle fatigue. I haven’t had time to reflect."

That, of course, was bullshit.

He had made two noblemen—a count and a representative from a marquess house—wait two days.

And now he wanted to pretend battle fatigue was the reason?

"Have you seen my bodyguards?"

"I have."

"What do you think would happen if you fought them?"

Enkrid thought for a moment.

Truthfully, he wanted to fight them the moment he laid eyes on them.

But not now.

Not like this.

If he fought now, he might accidentally kill them.

If they were either much weaker than him or far stronger, it wouldn’t be an issue.

But if they were somewhere in between—

Then there was a real risk that he would kill them before he could properly gauge his strength.

Right now, he wasn’t in full control of it.

"I don’t know."

"You’re being dull."

"Would it be more entertaining if I confidently said I’d win?"

"It would make things more fun."

Behind the Count, the bodyguards listened.

Of course, they did.

Molsen wanted them to hear.

This was provocation.

And the guards made no attempt to hide their intent.

Their eyes practically screamed—come at us, and we’ll crush you.

Enkrid ignored them entirely.

Normally, he would have fought already.

He never avoided fights.

So for him to hold back?

Anyone who knew him would probably be worried he had a fever.

"Then I’ll be the boring one."

"I see.

Once I leave, things will get troublesome for you. Will you be fine?"

"I’ll be fine."

The Count watched him for a moment.

Then his lips curled higher.

"That was unnecessary concern.

Hahaha."

Molsen let out a deep laugh as he stood.

At that, his bodyguards finally lowered their aggressive stance.

They turned slightly, waiting for their master to pass.

Enkrid watched them.

They were no different from well-trained dogs.

Did they get their treats on time?

Were they taken out for walks?

Who knew?

"My offer still stands. If you change your mind, you’re always welcome."

Molsen turned to leave.

"Understood."

"Take care of my son and daughter, will you?

It seems they both want to leave my care."

Molsen was a meticulous man.

If he really wanted to drag Edin Molsen back, he easily could.

And yet, he spoke openly of his cross-dressing daughter as well.

Of course, Enkrid had already known.

Anyone with a sharp mind could have figured it out.

All of his subordinates knew, without a doubt.

"Take care.

I won’t be going far."

After making them wait for two days, he had the audacity to say he wasn’t going far.

At the Count’s request, Graham, the Lord of the city, stepped forward to escort him out.

"Your Excellency, the Count."

"Your independent company captain is quite arrogant, don’t you think?

What do you say—shall we have him executed for treason?"

Even as he was leaving, the Count joked.

Graham broke into a nervous sweat.

"If I had Enkrid publicly executed, I’d be stoned to death by the citizens."

A hero created by the city.

That was what Enkrid had become.

Molsen laughed loudly once more.

"I was joking."

Was he, though?

Enkrid simply watched him leave.

The doors of the reception room closed.

The guards stationed outside stood completely still, acting as if they had neither seen nor heard anything.

As if interfering in this conversation would have cost them their lives.

"Are you insane?"

At last, Kin spoke.

She had been holding her breath through the entire exchange.

"I hear that a lot."

Enkrid remained utterly unbothered.

"No, but seriously—if you keep this up…"

She wasn’t an idiot.

She had made it this far for a reason.

But was she just too shocked to think straight?

Enkrid glanced at the leftover refreshments.

He popped one into his mouth.

He was hungry.

Hadn’t he gone two days without eating?

Chewing on a cookie, he asked—

"Did you come here to hand Border Guard over to the Count?"

"That’s ridiculous."

Kin was here to make sure neither Enkrid nor the city lord fell into the Count’s hands.

Her presence was also a warning from the House of Baisar.

"Whether the words are kind or harsh, it won’t matter.

The Count isn’t the type to take no for an answer."

She understood that much.

Count Molsen was a loaded crossbow.

And if things went poorly, that crossbow would be aimed at the royal palace.

If they tried to remove him, it could trigger a civil war.

Kin pushed those thoughts aside and focused back on this insane man in front of her.

There was a gap in his words.

Knowing something and acting on it were two different things.

This man was not normal.

That much hadn’t changed.

"You’ve got guts."

That was Kin’s conclusion.

"Are you staying to help deal with the aftermath?"

Enkrid, as always, got straight to the point.

Kin shook her head.

"The Count is gone. I can’t stay here any longer.

It’ll cause more problems."

If rumors spread that the House of Baisar was interested in this place, it could shake their standing in the capital.

That was why Marcus had left for the capital instead of staying behind.

"Then."

"Are you telling me to leave right now?"

Kin stared at him in disbelief.

Had this bastard forgotten that she had waited here for two days?

And more importantly—

With a face like hers, people always looked back at least once.

At least once.

Men and women alike had turned back countless times to look at her.

Kin Baisar—a name recognized even in the capital as belonging to a renowned beauty.

How many young men had wept when she left the capital for external affairs?

And yet, this man—he was so cleanly indifferent.

"Do you still have business here?

Didn’t you say this was troublesome for you?"

He wasn’t wrong.

Kin stood up.

It was time to leave.

There was no benefit in staying any longer.

But surely, she could afford one more day, right?

As she stood, her bodyguard moved closer and whispered.

"He’s an unusual man."

A guard who, through certain methods, had embedded magic into her own eyes.

She was like a sister to Kin.

"No, he’s a lunatic," Kin corrected.

They called him the Bewitching Captain, but was this how he left his first impression?

If so, it was an effective strategy.

She didn’t know what to make of him as a man, but he had definitely caught her interest.

Strange.

"Then."

Enkrid repeated the same word.

Was he telling her to hurry up and leave?

Kin felt a flicker of annoyance.

But she ignored it and walked away.

A short farewell followed.

As Kin stepped outside, she noticed a gathering of opportunists lurking about.

Petty nobles, merchant guild leaders who had bought their titles with gold, and even some hereditary nobles—

Among them were several noblewomen, all clearly here to catch a glimpse of Enkrid.

A gathering of those without real power.

No, some of them likely had powerful backing.

Regardless, they were all hyenas, drawn to Enkrid’s rising fortune.

The jackals of politics.

They might not be dangerous, but dealing with them would be a constant headache.

How would he handle this?

Kin decided not to worry.

This was the man who had talked down even Count Molsen.

If anyone deserved worry, it wasn’t him.

As she left the city, Kin turned back three times.

Then, suddenly, a realization struck her.

She cursed under her breath.

"Shit."

Her bodyguard turned to her.

They had just boarded the carriage.

"Kin?"

"That bastard never even asked for my name."

Despite being a beauty renowned throughout the capital—he hadn’t even cared to ask.

As if neither her family’s prestige nor her looks mattered at all.

And yet—

She didn’t hate it.

Not at all.

This is a first.

A maniac like that.

So, we will meet again.

Kin made up her mind.

Her bodyguard worried.

Kin had a bad habit of obsessing over pointless things.

There were many nobles and merchants who wanted Enkrid.

"I can’t handle this alone."

Graham raised his hands in surrender.

Enkrid sighed and took charge.

"If you come to my lands, you can have my daughter as well—"

The first to speak was some idiot willing to sell off his own daughter.

Enkrid brought Esther along.

"Can I stay in my human form?"

"It’s fine."

Esther’s appearance was striking enough to turn the heads of anyone with two eyes.

If Kin had been here, she would have nodded in understanding.

Wasn’t it obvious why Enkrid didn’t care about her looks?

"Ah, um…"

The noble, who had been trying to sell his daughter, suddenly clamped his mouth shut.

But then—

"By the way, Lady, what is your name?"

Someone tried to flirt with Esther.

Enkrid had to intervene immediately.

If he didn’t, she wouldn’t ask for permission to kill him—she would simply act.

After that, he started bringing Shinar along instead.

After all, they couldn’t just start stacking up noble corpses.

At least Shinar wouldn’t kill someone outright.

But there was one problem.

"She’s my fiancée."

A rumor started spreading.

The Bewitching Captain, rumored to have a fairy and a witch as his brides-to-be.

Enkrid let it be.

At least this way, no one would try to lure him with women.

"Why don’t you take me along?"

"I’ve got time, too."

Dunbakel and Teresa chimed in halfway through.

Both were undeniably beautiful, but—

If he took Teresa, half the nobles would assume he had brought her to kill them.

And Dunbakel…

Well, she was even faster with her blade than Esther.

It was better to let the rumors run their course.

When merchants came offering gold, Enkrid brought along Kraiss.

"If you join my guild, you could obtain wealth beyond your wildest dreams."

"How much?"

"…What?"

"How much are we talking?"

Kraiss was ruthless.

"Don’t bother if it’s less than a hundred gold coins.

And don’t talk to me if it’s a one-time deal.

Contracts are monthly, and I take a share of the profits.

So, which guild are you from?"

No merchant would ever sell shares of their business.

"That’s outrageous!"

"The door’s that way."

"You insolent—!"

"Do you have a problem?"

And the moment a few garrison soldiers appeared behind him, the conversation was over.

The merchant’s guards hesitated.

Even without Enkrid’s Mad Platoon, the city guard’s survivors from the Azpen War were more than enough of a deterrent.

The merchant left, grinding his teeth, but at least he had left alive.

There were others who tried to wield authority instead.

At times, Enkrid wanted to send Rem to crack their skulls open.

But he held back.

"Join my ranks.

It will bring you honor.

I could even recommend you for knighthood.

And you dare refuse me?"

Enkrid thought—let’s keep this civil.

"Swords have no eyes."

So he answered with a cliché.

"You insolent—!"

Swish.

He swung his hand—just once.

A strand of the noble’s remaining hair floated to the floor.

"Mosquito."

What mosquito existed in the dead of winter?

The noble didn’t speak again.

If he misstepped, this man might bury him right here.

"Was that alright?"

Graham was concerned.

"If that noble really had the army to back up his threats, if he declared territorial war—"

"Then we’d say, ‘Oh, thank you!’ and take his land."

Kraiss answered without hesitation.

Border Guard had become the most militarily powerful city in the region.

But—

They were short on money.

Which meant their biggest priority was Krona.

They had to expand the city, but the economy wasn’t running smoothly.

So if anyone attacked, they’d take their land and demand war reparations.

Kraiss kept cutting people off.

Shinar and Esther kept cutting people down.

And Enkrid—he was summoned over and over.

By the time two weeks had passed, he realized—

His body was nearly healed.

His senses had returned.

Now, he could fight without accidentally killing someone.

"Hah."

He let out a breath of satisfaction.

If he had fought the Count’s bodyguards back then—what would have happened?

Most likely, he would have killed them.

Or at least gravely injured them.

These past two weeks—

They hadn’t been wasted.

Instead, they had been a time of refinement.

Of honing what he had learned.

And now—

The desire to swing his sword surged within him.

By chance, today, no nobles or merchants had come looking for him.

So he returned to the barracks.

He had been too busy to visit often.

But now—

As soon as he stepped inside, he felt it.

Silence.

A tension hanging in the air.

A heavy atmosphere, pressing down on the barracks.

The scent of danger.

It was familiar.

Almost nostalgic.

Because it reminded him—

Of the very first time he had stepped into the barracks of the Mad Platoon.