Who Took the Holy Sword
In the place where the door had fallen, two large men and a middle-aged woman stood glaring at Rukna with fierce eyes.
“You little thief!”
“You stole it, didn’t you?”
The three who had suddenly barged in pointed fingers at her.
Rukna, who had instantly become a “thief,” quickly waved both hands and denied it.
“I don’t know who you are, but it wasn’t me. I don’t know anything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Pretending you don’t remember? Are you planning to act like a real noble when you’re just a fake?”
“Grab her!”
At the woman’s shout, the two men each grabbed one of Rukna’s arms.
They shook her up and down, making her whole body bounce.
Clatter.
From the wide legs of her pants, several pieces of jewelry fell out.
Earrings and rings with jewels rolled across the worn wooden floor.
‘What is this? Was I really a thief?’
Rukna stared at the jewels with wide eyes. At the same time, she searched her memory for any original novel where the main character was a thief.
‘There was no such story. What kind of crazy author makes the protagonist a thief?’
Even as a side character, thief was a rare role. Did that mean this body belonged to an unimportant extra?
As Rukna’s eyes rolled, the woman snorted.
“Now that you’re caught, are you thinking of how to escape? I should’ve known from the moment you, with your filthy background, started coming and going from the count’s house. Why did the late master adopt something like you!”
The woman raised her hand to slap Rukna—
“Please stop!”
A fragile cry stopped her.
A young girl who clearly looked noble entered the hut with tears in her eyes.
Her pretty face and caramel-colored eyes made her look like the heroine of a novel.
“It was all given by me, Mrs. Meln!”
“You gave them yourself, Miss Giselle? But those are the late madam’s belongings.”
“I wanted to give her at least that. Because Rukna… Rukna is…!”
Sniff. The girl named Giselle pressed a lace handkerchief under her eyes and bit her lip.
‘Please say it quickly. I’m a fast-tempered Korean; I’ll dry up waiting.’
Rukna, who was also curious about her identity, stamped her feet impatiently.
“She is the benefactor of the Golden Count family!”
Benefactor? Hearing that, Rukna felt relieved inside.
Thankfully, this body was not originally a thief.
“Come here, Rukna. Return to the mansion with me. Brother Perta is waiting for you.”
Giselle held out her hand.
After glancing at the woman and the two men, Rukna decided to follow Giselle for now.
It seemed she would learn the whole story that way.
At the same time.
Young men from the student council of Saint Cadet Academy stood in the Plaza of Honor.
All of them were tall and handsome, but one stood out clearly among them.
Matian Wiegretz.
The legitimate heir of the Grand Duke Wiegretz family, descendant of a hero, and the current student council president.
He excelled in academics and swordsmanship, and his sculpted appearance had captured the hearts of women across the Empire.
“The Holy Sword that was firmly stuck in the altar has disappeared, you say.”
And he was the one everyone believed would naturally become the owner of the Holy Sword.
As a soft breeze scattered his black hair, his neat forehead was revealed, highlighting his long eyes.
His blue eyes, cold enough to call back winter, swept across the wide plaza.
The plaza, usually crowded with students, was now empty—not even an ant could be seen.
His gaze stopped at the round altar standing in the center.
Originally, the Holy Sword—the symbol of the Empire’s hero—should have been embedded there. Only the chosen one could pull it out.
But that sword had vanished. In just one night.
The academy professors immediately called an emergency meeting.
They even asked the temple for advice, but the temple refused, saying everything was “the will of the heavens.”
The lukewarm response made the adults sigh in relief, thinking it wasn’t a great disaster. But the cadets thought differently.
“Which bastard stole it?”
The student council members exchanged glances and shook their heads.
There was only one reason they called the person a thief instead of “the chosen one.”
Everyone believed the Holy Sword’s master should naturally be Matian, who inherited the hero’s blood.
“Yeah. Who could it be?”
Matian could not take his eyes off the empty altar.
It was the first time anyone had seen the always warm and gentle student council president this angry.
The others swallowed nervously and watched him carefully.
“If it’s not Matian, is there anyone in this school capable of pulling it out? Someone probably used dark magic or some trick.”
“The culprit must be a cadet of the academy, Matian. The High Priest’s barrier around the altar only allows current students to enter.”
From among the tall men stepped a small, pretty boy with gnome blood mixed in.
Despite his fairy-like appearance, his personality was sharp. He was the student council treasurer, Aaron.
“Do you want to see the attendance records from last night?”
Aaron handed over a stack of papers listing dormitory entry and exit times.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
Even while angry, Matian’s lips formed a smooth, mechanical smile.
But his blue eyes were icy as he scanned the list—until they stopped at one name.
“Rukna Golden.”
Matian narrowed his eyes at the familiar name.
‘The only one who left the dormitory last night and did not return.’
The last-ranked student in the entire academy. The weakest. Registered as a “concerned student” due to exposure to school violence.
The complete opposite of Matian, who excelled in everything.
“Rukna Golden? You’re not suspecting that fool the Golden Count family sent instead of their eldest son, are you?”
Bolton, the muscular student council secretary, burst into laughter.
Saint Cadet Academy was more like a knight order than a school.
Students were often dispatched to battlefields, and dangerous experimental classes were common.
But those who graduated safely gained wealth, honor, and recognition from all.
That was why heirs of noble families often enrolled to earn merit before adulthood.
It raised their family’s honor and fulfilled noblesse oblige.
Naturally, many young nobles gathered there to build connections. And as expected of the multi-racial Grayten Empire, not only humans but titled elves and gnomes also enrolled.
Thus, the academy became both a required course for nobles and a social arena. A diploma was like a medal.
In such circumstances, some families with sick heirs adopted capable commoners and sent them as substitutes for the sake of honor.
‘Rukna Golden was one of those cases.’
Adopted by the Golden Count family to attend instead of the sick Perta Golden. Though for that role, Rukna’s skills were terribly lacking.
“How could a fool who only stains the school’s name pull out the Holy Sword?”
Bolton kicked a stone and dismissed the possibility.
“Bolton’s right. Rukna Golden might be suitable as a sacrifice, but not as someone worthy of pulling the Holy Sword.”
Vice president Chad, who always looked tired, spoke seriously. His drooping eyes carried a decadent charm.
Despite the others’ opinions, Matian did not withdraw his suspicion.
He stared at Rukna’s name for a long time, then looked toward the empty altar.
“Well, it doesn’t matter who it is.”
Matian crushed the list in his hand with a sharp grin.
“Whoever dared to touch what belongs to me will pay the price.”
‘Why do I suddenly feel chills?’
Rukna, sitting alone in the reception room, trembled slightly.
This was the Golden Count family’s mansion.
She thought all nobles lived in splendid homes, but this place was only large—it felt quite shabby.
‘I guess not all nobles are rich.’
It was even colder inside than outside, so Rukna rubbed her arms.
‘I followed them here, but what should I do now?’
Kim Hayoon, who had become Rukna, clenched and unclenched her hands anxiously.
The more she realized she had truly been possessed into another world, the tighter her jaw became. Cold confusion spread through her body.
‘It feels like when I was left in front of the orphanage.’
She should be grateful just for gaining a new life. Yet the anxiety of being alone in a place with no connections, always fearing sudden death, rose up from beneath her knees.
She pulled her legs onto the sofa and hugged her knees.
‘Sister Agnes… I miss you.’
When she first entered the orphanage and couldn’t adjust, feeling like a foreign object, only Sister Agnes had shown her warmth.
〈God must have had a reason for sending our Hayoon here.〉
Whenever the feeling of not belonging anywhere disturbed her, she remembered those words and worked hard at whatever role was given to her.
She thought that if she did, she might understand why she alone survived among eight billion people on Earth.
She had been afraid to dream of a distant future, fearing another accident. But achieving small results each day had been meaningful.
‘I couldn’t live carelessly.’
As the only survivor in her family, she felt she had to repay the price of their lives.
‘But maybe I lived too diligently. Who knew I’d die from overwork?’
So being given another chance at life was a great blessing.
Hayoon reminded herself of that fact and tried to push away her fear.
‘So what if I don’t know the original story? When I was Kim Hayoon, I didn’t live knowing the future either.’
Instead of panicking, she decided to calmly think about what she could do first.
