* * *
The slave traders hesitated for a moment at the unexpected interruption before quickly exchanging words.
“Is he with him?”
“Let’s just capture him too. Form up!”
Hearing that, Ian, who had stepped in front of Hesia, let out a wry chuckle.
Slave traders usually avoided clashing with mercenaries unless necessary—business must have been tough lately.
“Hm, I should wrap this up quickly before they call for reinforcements.”
Ian scanned the ten or so opponents before murmuring to himself and drawing another sword from his waist.
At the same time, the slave traders charged.
They were people who captured and sold other humans.
Their swordsmanship, rough and unrefined, had no real discipline, but it was brutally effective when it came to harming others.
If Ian had aimed to subdue them, injuries on both sides would have been inevitable.
However, from the start, his intent wasn’t to subdue.
It was to eliminate.
There was no use letting slave traders live; they would only continue their banditry.
His merciless sword strikes cut them down one after another.
Moving like a serpent silently slithering in to sink its fangs, Ian’s blade effortlessly slipped through openings, striking with deadly precision.
Even while parrying incoming attacks with his other sword, every movement was calculated to create an opportunity.
Although Ian was physically strong, some of the slave traders were even larger than him.
But in the end, this wasn’t a matter of size—it was a matter of skill.
“Tch… If it’s not working, just kill him and take the other one!”
“That would be… a bit of a problem.”
Ian muttered lightly, as if he had no intention of dying just yet.
His lips curved into a faint smile as he swung his sword—severing the arm of the man who had just given the order to kill him.
The fluid, dual-blade technique left three more men sprawled on the ground within moments.
Realizing they were up against a formidable opponent, one of the traders attempted to retreat and ignite a signal flare to call for reinforcements.
Ian had been looking elsewhere, yet the moment he glanced in that direction, the flare slipped from the trader’s hand, rolling uselessly onto the ground.
“…That’s a s—”
It was impossible to explain as mere quick reflexes.
The trader’s lips parted to cry out ‘Sado’—a heretic—but before he could finish, Ian’s sword pierced his heart.
The attack was so smooth and swift that those struggling just to block Ian’s strikes didn’t even register what had happened.
However, standing at a slight distance, Hesia heard it.
His sharp hearing, attuned to such details, caught the dying man’s final words.
‘Sado?’
A heretic… someone who, no matter where they went, would never be welcomed.
If Ian was truly a Sado, why had he chosen to be a mercenary?
From his alias to the secret he was hiding—it was clear now that Ian’s mystery wasn’t something trivial.
Hesia studied him closely.
Not only was Ian handling the opponents in front of him, but he was also efficiently blocking any who tried to reach Hesia.
“…I really want him.”
Hesia had never been the type to covet talent.
But maybe it was because Ian reminded him of Vivisian, or maybe it was because of his extraordinary individual skills—either way, the desire to keep Ian by his side kept creeping up on him.
This realization was both new and startling to Hesia.
He had plenty of subordinates, but not a single person he truly cherished.
He had never given his heart to anyone before.
Some had even gone so far as to mimic the one benefactor Hesia had never been able to forget—the one who had helped him through hardship.
They had tried to imitate someone kind, righteous, and beautiful, with long black hair, all in a desperate bid for his favor.
Of course, no matter what they did, Hesia had simply dismissed them, uninterested.
But one particular noble had once brazenly presented his own child, suggesting he could serve as a substitute for Vivisian.
‘This child will bring Your Highness comfort! The past can be forgotten with new bonds, and among the new, the most familiar is best, is it not?’
‘Marquis, are you mocking me? Because I’ve tolerated your antics in silence, you must think I’m a fool. Let me remind you—I am Hesia Merien! I am not someone you can manipulate at your whim!’
That was the first and only time he had ever overturned an entire noble estate in anger.
Regardless, the affection of the future Duke-heir was valuable enough to drive people to madness. Many had vied for it over the years.
Yet, in all that time, not once had Hesia wavered.
But now…
Amid the brutal scene, blood splattered across the sand, Hesia’s light gray eyes remained fixed on a single figure.
Ian’s lower face and mask were smeared with blood.
It was impossible to see his expression, but Hesia knew that beneath that mask, his face would be as composed as ever.
After cutting down the last of their attackers, Ian finally stopped moving.
He surveyed the area, ensuring that no one had survived or escaped.
Then, lifting his gaze, he spotted Hesia sitting quietly on the sand dune above, watching him.
Slowly, his lips curved into a smirk.
Ian leaped up to where Hesia sat and shrugged off his bloodied outerwear.
He glanced down at his own state, clicking his tongue in mild frustration before asking from a short distance away:
“Young master, you’re not hurt, are you?”
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“Me? I’m fine too. …Oh? You were worried about me? Thanks.”
Contrary to Hesia’s worries that Ian might blurt out something strange again, Ian just parted his lips slightly in surprise before mumbling a quiet “Thanks.”
“You don’t have any friends?”
“Yeah, not many. I never stay in one place for too long. Once I finish your request, I was thinking of heading to another continent. The people I’ve met here will soon become strangers.”
“You’re leaving for another continent….”
Hesia pressed down the words he wanted to say—suggesting that they head toward the Principality of Merien together—and instead asked a different question.
“Doesn’t that get lonely? It must be boring without friends.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure about boredom. Whether it’s taking on requests or traveling, I still meet people. And actually, I used to have a really close friend….”
Ian trailed off, unable to continue easily, and Sia furrowed his brows.
“What, did they die or something?”
“Did they die? …It’s something like that.”
The calm answer only unsettled Sia more.
If Ian had just said they died, it would have felt solemn.
But saying it was “something like that” left Sia unsure of how to react.
Ian, noticing his confusion, let out a quiet laugh before wiping the blood off the lower half of his face with the back of his hand.
“I mean, I’ll never see them again, so I held a funeral for them in my heart. No need to look at me like a guilty cat that knocked something over, young master.”
Ian answered lightly, then wiped his hands on his clothes before extending one to Hesia, who was still sitting down.
“Let’s head to the oasis. Walking around covered in blood isn’t exactly ideal.”
Hesia stared blankly at the large, pale hand offered to him before gently placing his own on top of it. Ian pulled him up effortlessly.
As Ian brushed the sand off his clothes, Hesia let him, then casually asked,
“It’s not a long walk, right?”
“It’s not far. Here, give me your bag—I’ll carry it.”
Ian spoke in a coaxing tone, as if soothing a child complaining about how much farther they had to go.
He took Hesia’s bag and prepared to lead the way when he suddenly felt a slight weight on his sleeve.
When he turned his head, he saw Hesia quietly holding onto it.
Ian observed him for a moment, then, instead of telling him to let go, asked in a voice laced with amusement,
“Young master, how old are you? Oh, if that’s too personal, you don’t have to answer. Just curious.”
“…I just became an adult this year.”
“Wow, so you were a baby kitten.”
Ian murmured softly and started walking before Hesia could protest.
He had to be careful not to trip in the sand.
Focused on keeping his balance, Hesia seemed to forget about retorting.
Ian glanced at him and let out a quiet laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing, I just like this.”
Something about those words felt strangely familiar, making Hesia pause without realizing it.
Noticing him stop, Ian also halted.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
The mask on Ian’s face, darkened further by the blood stains, partially revealed his pale lower face.
Hesia stared at his faintly colored lips, then belatedly shook his head.
“…No. It’s nothing.”
It was just… because he happened to say the exact same thing that Vivesian once did.
Because he happened to have jet-black hair.
Because he happened to be kind to him.
That’s all.
That’s why…
As Ian had said, the oasis wasn’t far.
Once they arrived, Ian sat Hesia down somewhere visible before gathering his clothes and heading off to wash them.
For a fleeting moment, Hesia debated whether he should watch—Ian might take off his mask.
But that thought was abandoned the moment Ian stripped and stepped into the water.
‘Even if we’re both men, it’s not like I can just casually stare at his bare body.’
Convincing himself with that reasoning, Hesia pulled his robe tightly around himself and turned his back to Ian, staring blankly ahead.
He had been fixated on the scenery for a while when the sound of water shifting reached his ears, followed by a gentle voice calling from behind.
* * *
