Chapter 19 — “The Letter from Home”
Behind the window, a familiar voice spoke quietly.
Ber, who wasn’t wearing his scarf, opened the window.
Standing there was a red-haired man holding a pink lace parasol.
His looks were striking — dazzlingly handsome, almost like a phoenix soaring through the night.
“Coachman.”
Ber recognized him immediately.
“Please don’t use that title here. And call me ‘Mr. Ber’ as well.”
“Ah, got it~! Anyway, my acting in front of Baroness Primavera was great, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Ber admitted it without hesitation.
The man’s performance in front of Heidi had been perfectly natural — anyone watching would have thought they were complete strangers.
“Good to hear! Then here’s a letter from Lady Laurelia. That’s what I came to deliver today.”
Ber accepted the envelope, slit it open, and began to read.
***
“To my blood relative.
No need to ask — I’m sure you’re healthy enough, so I’ll skip the formal greeting.
I heard you went to Lioum to work as a farm laborer.
The Baroness Primavera is, what, twenty-two this year? From the way you described her, she sounds like a lively young lady. I just hope your gloominess doesn’t rub off on her.
As your older sister, I feel a little guilty about your lack of social skills.
Conversation, you see, is all about consideration. Since you’ve only ever been the one giving orders, maybe living as a worker for once will be a good experience for you.
Ah.
I’ve gotten used to your expressionless face over the years, but ordinary people might find it scary. Try to loosen up a little. Who did you inherit that intimidating face from, anyway?
In any case, things at the estate are peaceful.
Oh, and the knights say they miss you dearly.
Sir Claire keeps nagging me every day to send you greetings. It’s such a bother.
I don’t miss you at all, but for Sir Claire’s sake, you should show your face sometime.
From the great Laurelia.
P.S. I was taught that the first month’s salary should always be offered to your family. I’ll be waiting.”
***
“…Just reading her words makes me angry.”
His sister hadn’t changed one bit.
And that was exactly the problem.
Still… it meant she was doing well.
He felt both relief and guilt twisting inside him.
But then Ber noticed the coachman’s red eyes studying him closely.
“…Why are you still here?”
“You seemed calm after reading the letter, so I figured Lady Laurelia must not have mentioned her health. So I thought I should tell you myself.”
The coachman’s tone was suddenly serious — all playfulness gone.
“Your sister has gotten thinner. She’s worse than before.”
That one line hit like a knife.
“Why are you only telling me this now?”
Ber’s voice dropped dangerously low.
Laurelia had been born with Severed Veins Syndrome — an incurable condition.
“Her yin energy is too strong,” the Eastern physician had said when he diagnosed her.
“It blocks mana circulation and shortens life. She’ll remain frail and die young.”
Her body had inherited their father’s cursed constitution.
Even though the eastern lands had four clear seasons, her world had always been winter.
And her winter had only grown colder.
The only small comfort was that her illness wasn’t as severe as their father’s had been — but it was still fatal.
The only thing that could slow it down was a high-grade mandrake.
“Have the mandrakes run out?” Ber asked.
“Yup.”
“…Why do you sound so calm?”
“Oh—! Sorry, sorry, it’s just that without the baroness around, my real personality slips out—!”
Ber ignored him and sank into thought.
Money alone couldn’t buy mandrakes. The Grand Temple controlled all trade of the high-grade ones — turning a life-saving medicine into profit.
A cold fury flickered in his eyes.
‘Maybe I should just erase them all.’
Under the moonlight, his blue eyes gleamed like blades.
“You’re not seriously thinking of giving in to the Temple’s blackmail, are you?” the coachman asked carefully.
“Of course not.”
Ber’s tone was sharp and cold.
“If I yield once because they use my sister’s illness against me, what happens next? Next time, they’ll use her life as leverage. I won’t let that happen.”
The Temple’s high priest was a cunning, greedy man.
Give him one weakness, and he’d strangle you with it later.
He realized then how much he had dulled in the peaceful days beside Heidi. His instincts, once razor-sharp, had softened.
Now the battlefield called to him again — blood, screams, despair.
That was the world he truly belonged to.
‘So I’m not allowed peace after all.’
The mana around him vibrated, responding to his rage. His hands clenched around his scarf until his veins stood out. Blue mana flared to life, like flames licking the air.
The man before the window was no longer merely human — he was a weapon.
His sharp nose, narrowed eyes, and hard jaw gleamed like a honed sword under the moonlight.
Most people would have fled from the killing aura that radiated off him.
But the coachman only smiled.
“Good resolve~! Don’t lose to them! I’ll help you too!”
The overly bright tone, so out of place, snapped Ber back to reason.
Yes. Think rationally.
He couldn’t storm the Temple now.
Tomorrow, when he joined Heidi’s mandrake gathering, he’d find a way to get a high-grade one — that was the only real chance to save his sister.
Thankfully, he wasn’t alone in this.
“…Now I understand why you revealed your fake identity to the Baroness and insisted on joining the expedition,” Ber said quietly.
The coachman had always been careful to hide his true self. His job as a coachman, the straw hat covering his face, even the “sixth-circle mage” claim — all false.
For him to take such a risk meant only one thing.
“You already knew about my sister’s condition. You’re helping me save her. …Thank you, Coachman.”
“Eh, it’s nothing~.”
Then, softer, the coachman murmured,
“You know, for Lady Laurelia, I’d do anything.”
His words were light, but his crimson eyes were not.
Ber gave him a look filled with reluctant pity.
‘Honestly… what do people see in my sister?’
Watching a sibling’s love life always made one feel sorry for the other party.
He sighed, letting his gathered mana fade away.
“Of course, I’ll protect the Baroness too. Wouldn’t want her caught up in this mess.”
“That’s a given.”
“Looks like we’ll be working together again. Brings back memories of the battlefield, huh?
Still can’t believe I’m compatible with a guy. Ugh, worst luck ever.”
Ber’s blue mana flared again — and his fist, wrapped in it, swung toward the coachman’s face.
***
Meanwhile — In the Rayben Underworld
In a shady corner of Delphina Street, the city’s dark district, stood a half-collapsed old building.
A brand-new signboard glowed faintly above the cracked door:
“Black Tortoise Detective Agency.”
It was a private service that took money to dig up people’s secrets.
A muscular man burst through the creaky door.
“Boss!” he shouted.
At a desk a short distance away, a woman slowly lifted her head.
Her long, jet-black braid gave off an ominous beauty, and her sharp golden eyes gleamed with danger.
Even men twice her size felt their knees weaken under her gaze.
“Hey.”
She tilted her wrist lazily, the machete in her hand glinting in the dim light.
The flash of its silver blade, combined with the gold rings adorning all ten of her fingers, was enough to make the man’s head spin.
“Did you sell your manners along the way? I told you to knock.
And stop calling me ‘boss.’ I said to call me ‘Madam.’ What are we, street thugs?”
The man swallowed hard, glancing over her outfit.
A thick gold chain around her neck, an open silk shirt embroidered with a golden turtle…
He couldn’t help thinking—
‘No matter how you look at it… we really are street thugs.’
