* * *
“Huh?”
Ranshel blinked wide-eyed as he read the text floating in the air.
It was the first time he had seen someone else use a skill, and also the first time an item was automatically registered in the codex.
Originally, Ranshel only used the item registration feature during the very early stages of the game when he had no information at all.
While registering an item in the codex did provide some info, it usually only displayed something like this:
[Item Codex]
‘Medicine Bottle’
A medicine bottle handed over by Doter.
…In other words, completely useless.
In the original game, the codex was meant for the female protagonist to register items related to capture targets and give them as gifts to raise their favorability.
So unless the item was related to a capture target like Zavad, registering it had no real value.
That’s why Ranshel had completely stopped paying attention to the item registration function after leaving Pomel Castle.
But now—
‘The system activated the feature on its own.’
That meant this game wanted something from Ranshel.
His eyes sharpened as he absorbed every piece of information within his field of vision.
During that time, the arrow left Ranshel’s hand and flew straight toward its target.
Piiik!
The razor-sharp tip sliced through the air and hit a small black dot in the distance dead-on.
Ranshel narrowed his eyes.
Something staggered far away, then abruptly dropped out of sight.
Doter slowed his running to a walk.
Ranshel nearly dropped his bow but managed to steady it just in time.
“Whoa, you okay? You look like hell.”
Ranshel didn’t have the energy to answer.
He just squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.
The pain was so intense it made him nauseous.
Blood poured freely from his hand, dripping steadily in the direction they were heading.
“Let’s catch that guy and then get you treated. We’ll say your hand was injured by that bastard. Sounds perfect, right?”
Always scheming. Ranshel clicked his tongue but gave a small nod.
Both of them needed an excuse for Zavad or the guards.
They had been gone unexpectedly long, and there was also the matter of the wheelchair they’d left back on the main road…
A lot to explain.
“…A quail.”
“Huh?”
“You caught it, didn’t you, Doter?”
“Oh—aha. Yeah. I figured it’d help win over young master Hans if I gave it to him.”
“To the same guy you planned to poison?”
“Hey, as long as he doesn’t find out, he’ll think I’m a helpful ally, right? Hans was originally planning to carry the paralyzed young master all the way back himself, you know. Isn’t that touching?”
Of course he’d bribed Ranshel into giving information by catching that quail.
What a shady bastard.
Ranshel let out a long, audible sigh.
He’d thought, just maybe, someone had finally shown up who truly wanted to help Zavad… but of course not.
Trusting people too easily only gets you stabbed in the back.
He was worried about Zavad.
If these were the only kinds of people around him, how was he supposed to survive in the future?
Who could he trust or lean on…?
‘Enough.’
There was no need to think about it.
This was a female-oriented game.
Who would he trust and lean on?
The answer was obvious.
Prey.
The central figure of this world.
He would take care of Zavad.
There was nothing to worry about.
Ranshel closed his eyes again as his vision began to spin.
Thump, thump.
He could hear Doter’s footsteps ahead.
He was moving slowly, probably checking both sides as he walked.
…Thwack!
A sudden impact.
Ranshel’s eyes snapped open.
At the same moment, Doter’s body lurched.
The arms supporting Ranshel’s back and legs gave out, and the tall figure wobbled—then collapsed completely.
Ranshel quickly rolled to the side to avoid being crushed under Doter’s fallen body.
As he pushed himself up with both arms, he spotted several sacks stacked around the narrow alley.
A small rock rolled to a stop near Ranshel.
That must have been what struck Doter’s head.
‘If Doter let his guard down, that means the arrow must’ve hit true.’
The enemy was wounded and hiding nearby.
Ranshel quickly scanned the area around the stacked sacks.
They couldn’t last much longer.
The attack had been skill-based—there was no way it missed.
Sure enough, under the sacks, the dirt had begun to darken.
Moist soil stained with blood spread like a shadow, gradually revealing the figure’s silhouette.
He had already used his dagger to destroy the carriage wheel, and his arrow was embedded in the enemy’s body.
Ranshel reached for the stone lying on the ground.
Neither of them were in perfect condition, but the severity of their injuries was different.
You could tell just by the amount of blood.
If it had been a normal arrow, the bleeding would have been minimal unless it was pulled out.
But Doter’s arrow had a blade-like edge.
It would have slashed the flesh as it penetrated, delivering a deep wound—likely even damaging internal organs with its spiraling force.
Doter hadn’t carelessly approached; he had judged that the enemy was critically wounded and needed emergency treatment.
Even so, the fact that the opponent managed a counterattack meant nothing—time was on Ranshel’s side.
‘Stop hiding and come out…’
Ranshel gripped the stone, panting heavily.
His strength was draining fast as he supported himself with his injured hand.
The already frail assassin, with stamina smaller than an ant’s fingernail, was being pushed far too hard.
His vision flickered; it wasn’t just his imagination.
His head kept bobbing forward.
Ranshel clenched a handful of soil with his wounded hand.
The sting of the pain helped bring his senses back.
This life was too valuable to waste here.
His breath, his heartbeat—it was all meant for Zavad.
If he wasn’t at Zavad’s side, then there was no meaning in continuing.
This spare life was meant to protect him.
Zavad was the rightful protagonist of this world.
Ranshel was meant to remain the villain who sacrifices himself for Zavad’s happiness.
Squish.
He heard the wet earth give under a footstep.
Ranshel closed his eyes instead.
The enemy stepped quickly, closing the distance, charging straight toward the spot where Ranshel lay.
Bending low, approaching with a very shallow angle of vision.
Of course. Ranshel couldn’t move his legs.
That’s how it had to be.
Anyone who had been tailing him for a while would’ve known that.
So Ranshel had deliberately moved using only his arms.
All for this moment.
Whoosh—
Ranshel pushed off the ground and sprang up.
As the enemy’s weapon brushed past where he had been lying, Ranshel leapt onto them from above.
The attacker had bent low, revealing their back—the spot where the arrow had pierced through.
Ranshel struck that very place with the rock.
“Ugh…!”
A groan of pain burst out as the attacker faltered and collapsed to their knees.
Ranshel landed softly.
Against a foe with an exposed weakness, you didn’t need a sharp blade.
Targeting a wound already pierced by an arrow would deliver pain as though they’d been stabbed all over again.
The attacker’s face was hidden beneath a veil.
They had been following Ranshel from so far away that he hadn’t even noticed—if not for Doter, he would’ve passed them by completely unaware.
* * *
