ISTV 31

From Lee Juhwan’s perspective, he couldn’t help but feel a little wronged.

He had recognized his sister immediately, but Seila had looked at him as if he were nothing more than the Imperial Princess.

‘If she recognized me, there’s no way she’d be acting like that in front of me.’

The current Lee Sohyun was sitting with an excessively composed and elegant posture.

She listened attentively to Thema Non, her gaze clear and poised.

Her back was straight, her posture perfect, without a hint of disarray.

If Sohyun had recognized him…

‘She would’ve probably yelled at me to send her back to her original world… at the very least, she wouldn’t have said anything nice.’

Her current demeanor was far too refined for someone facing their older brother. That was all the proof he needed—Sohyun didn’t recognize him at all.

“……So, I need the Great Acupuncture Technique of Arsagil. I’d appreciate your help.”

Lee Juhwan wanted to shout:

—Of course! Is that all you need from me?

But instead, his body moved like a stubborn toad.

“Why should I help? This doesn’t seem like my problem.”

Son of a—!

Lee Juhwan almost cursed out loud, but he quickly regained his composure and began to think.

‘How can I get around these damn traits and help Seila?’

‘Yeah, I figured this would happen.’

Arsagil never really liked getting involved in anything.

He wasn’t interested in most things and found them a hassle.

Only two people in the whole story world could ever get him to move.

His son, Jeromiel, and the female lead, Aileen.

Jeromiel could nullify some of Arsagil’s traits, while Aileen had a near-broken ability to negate most of them altogether.

Thanks to this, the Imperial Princess Arsagil found peace when around Aileen, and he would even go out of his way to arrange a marriage between her and Jeromiel.

‘Not that any of this has anything to do with me now.’

Arsagil’s sudden appearance was baffling. Why had he shown up just to repeatedly say he hated it, it was annoying, and none of it concerned him?

He was such an unpredictable person that it was hard to get a read on him at all.

But then the Imperial Princess spoke.

“I wonder if I have any justification for this.”

That was the hint.

‘Right. One of the Princess’s traits is [Minimum Justification].’

The “minimum justification” meant the bare motivation required to make the Princess act—and there were only two things that could trigger it:

Her son Jeromiel, and her future daughter-in-law Aileen.

“I’ve become friends with Jeromiel. I hope to be both a good friend and a worthy rival he can learn from.”

Mentioning Jeromiel was necessary to activate the [Minimum Justification] trait.

And then Seila threw in another one—[Mystery Seeker].

“I’m told my body is quite rare and mysterious. Some say it holds the same secrets as the founder of the Queibek family. Wouldn’t my body be an excellent research subject for you?”

“……”

At Seila’s words, Sir Thema Non gulped and stepped back a few paces.

‘I thought I was the one who handled the Princess best…?’

Turns out, I was nothing!

The realization hit him hard.

After a short pause, Arsagil finally opened his mouth.

“If that’s the case… now I’m interested.”

A few days later, under Arsagil’s supervision, a temporary acupuncture room was set up.

‘It looks kind of like an operating room from a drama, but… wait, no way!’

Seila was taken aback.

Arsagil was holding a needle as thick as an adult’s forearm.

On the nearby table were dozens of those monstrous needles.

‘H-He’s going to stab me with those?’

Arsagil spoke.

“Lie down on the operating table.”

For some reason, Arsagil had been acting strangely for the past few days.

He used to at least make eye contact and offer a kind word or two.

But this time, he wouldn’t even look at Seila, and seemed to actively dislike her.

‘I don’t think I did anything wrong…’

Even for someone as erratic as him, this level of blatant discomfort was out of character.

‘Even the great Imperial Princess needs intense focus to perform a spell like this. That must be why he’s on edge.’

Arsagil approached and handed Seila a rubber gag.

Then, with a gaze like he was looking at an insect, and in a flat voice, he said:

“Bite down on this. Your teeth might be damaged. It will hurt a lot. Also, don’t make a sound. Whether you live or die is no concern of mine, but I want this acupuncture technique to succeed.”

He had to treat Seila this way—

Because only by doing so could he keep his composure.

If he lost it, he might end up hurting Seila instead.

“If you make noise, the spell will be completely ruined, so be careful.”

“Un’nerstood.” (Muffled: “Understood.”)

“Well, even if it is ruined, that wouldn’t be the worst outcome.”

“……”

Hundreds of stake-like needles were driven into Seila’s body.

She repeated a mantra to herself thousands, no, tens of thousands of times.

‘A noble of a prestigious family doesn’t scream. I must maintain my dignity. I must not make a sound!’

If she couldn’t endure even this, how could she possibly survive the countless threats of death sure to come her way?

With the help of ‘dignity,’ she barely held on.

‘I never… want to go through that again.’

And in the end, the Great Acupuncture Technique was a success.

One year passed. Seila turned fifteen.

This past year may have been the most peaceful year of my entire life.

Perhaps the Queibek family was safer than even my own—House Dvernon.

A place where “constant threats of death” could hardly reach me.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better, thanks to you, Master.”

It was all thanks to Sir Thema Non, who had become my mentor.

Since the day I collapsed in the bath a year ago, he had paid close attention to my health.

He tended to be overprotective, but I honestly didn’t dislike it.

His face and actions, which reminded me of my father, made me feel like a child again.

Not that I ever let it show—my ‘dignity’ wouldn’t allow it.

It felt like I was being showered with all the affection I’d missed growing up, all at once.

‘Anyway, it’s reassuring.’

When Sir Thema Non was around, those “constant threats of death” couldn’t touch me.

His very presence was a sturdy shield protecting me.

“You don’t need to be so formal. Am I still that hard to approach?”

Sir Thema Non didn’t like how polite I was with him.

He wasn’t particularly fond of being called “Master,” either.

But I couldn’t help it.

Even if I wanted to address him more casually, my body’s ingrained dignity naturally compelled me to say “Master” and observe all the formalities.

Over the past year, I had learned the Winter Sword under his tutelage.

Out of the nine stages of mastery, I had just barely stepped into the first.

That meant I had successfully activated one of the nine great magic circuits. Thema Non constantly praised me as a genius and protected my self-esteem.

“Showing respect to my master is the proper thing to do.”

“Sigh…”

His gaze had grown much kinder than it had been a year ago.

And so had Lady Rachel’s.

“Oh, that’s right. Rachel asked if you’d like to have tea with her this evening.”

“I’d love to.”

Surprisingly, Rachel turned out to be a sentimental person.

From the data I had seen, she seemed like a cold-blooded woman of iron, but in reality, that wasn’t quite the case.

I remembered something she once said:

‘After spending all that time with my sons, meeting you was such a refreshing change.’

The three sons of Queibek were madmen obsessed with swordsmanship.

Thankfully, they were righteously obsessed.