I awoke to the gentle warmth of sunlight filtering through the sturdy iron bars that lined the windows of my room.
In contrast to the darkness of the underground cells in the kingdom, this new location was flooded with light as the day began.
The comfort of the plush bed I found myself in was so inviting that I soon drifted back into a peaceful slumber, temporarily escaping the worries of my current situation.
“Isn’t this too generous a treatment for a prisoner of the empire?”
A confinement chamber situated in the luxurious Heter mansion, often referred to as a prison, was essentially a repurposed guest room adorned with restrictive features.
The entrance and windows had been retrofitted with sturdy iron bars, distinguishing it from the traditional rooms of the grand estate.
In contrast to the dank and oppressive underground facility where I had previously been held, labeling this opulently appointed room as a prison seemed almost comical.
“Is this some ploy to put me at ease before inflicting brutal torture?”
The sting of a whip always feels sharper after indulging in a carrot.
If they had brought me here with such intentions, it would be the worst-case scenario for me.
That would mean Letia Heter truly hated me to that extent.
“…I don’t know.”
I struggled to discern the dry and aloof intentions behind her actions.
Could it be fueled by hatred?
Perhaps it stemmed from pity?
Or maybe it was just a casual curiosity?
Despite considering all possibilities, I ultimately dismissed the notion of love.
Our relationship was characterized by intense hostility, and I understood that my looks were not enough to attract women effortlessly.
Feeling uncertain due to the lack of information, I chose to take a moment to calm my mind and begin the day anew.
The physical activities available to me in prison were quite limited, primarily consisting of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and various other bodyweight exercises.
In contrast to the isolated underground cell, here I had the freedom to jog around and complete laps for my workout routine.
After pushing myself to break a satisfying sweat, it was finally time to sit down and enjoy a well-deserved breakfast.
In the underground prison, I’d been given pig slop made from leftovers, but I was curious about the food here.
Not that I’d complain, as long as it was edible.
“Breakfast is here! Take it.”
“Looks like it’s no different here.”
“Got a problem? Hah, I suppose a knight of the empire, used to eating fine cuisine, wouldn’t be satisfied with this kind of food.”
“I don’t really mind.”
Though the facilities had improved, I felt relieved that the meals remained the same.
After a warm night’s sleep, I’d begun doubting whether I was really a prisoner.
But reuniting with the pig slop from the underground prison put my mind at ease.
Ah, I really am a prisoner!
“Your words sound fancy for someone who won’t even touch the food!”
“They even added leftover meat here. Just what I needed—protein! How considerate!”
I took a bite of the thick slop and savored it.
The texture wasn’t great, but the subtle aroma of meat was highly satisfying.
The porridge from the underground prison had only grass and weeds in it, and I even had to pick out the rotten vegetables separately.
Compared to that, this food was edible in its entirety and even replenished the nutrients I’d been lackin
—it was practically divine.
“This slop is so good, it’s to die for!”
“Tsk!”
The servant delivering the food frowned as I finished the bowl cleanly, his expression darkening.
He clicked his tongue loudly, spat on the ground in disgust, and without a word, turned and left the room.
Despite genuinely enjoying the meal, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had taken my clean plate as a sign of sarcasm.
My unintentional actions seemed to have offended him, leaving me puzzled by his sudden departure.
“I was hoping for a second serving… If it’s this good, I wouldn’t mind eating it with my hands.”
I delicately twirled the spoon in my mouth, a subtle gesture of my remorse.
The clattering sound of the bowl being licked clean caught the attention of a passing maid, who let out a startled scream and quickly fled from the scene.
It seemed as though witnessing a knight taking care of his own leftovers was a rare sight for her.
With a wry smile, I mused to myself that perhaps I was the only one in this prison who behaved in such a manner.
I recalled the guards calling me the “slop knight.”
After completing my meal, I carefully pushed the dishes away from me towards the entrance of the room.
I then leaned my back against the comforting solidity of the wall and settled into a comfortable cross-legged position.
Understanding that immediate movement after a meal can be detrimental,
I decided to engage in a session of meditation to allow my body to fully digest and relax.
Knights who possess the ability to harness aura have the power to engage in battles with foes that exist only in the realm of their imagination.
In order to keep their combat skills sharp without participating in actual warfare, individuals must continuously practice and engage in mental battles, honing their instincts even in the absence of physical combat.
Much like how martial arts experts mentally replay their past duels to refine their techniques and strategies, this practice allows for constant improvement and preparedness.
“My weapon: a single sword. My opponent…”
Usually, I imagined my master as my sparring partner.
After all, I’d never met anyone who surpassed him.
However, today, someone else lingered in my mind.
“Letia Heter.”
The image of the hero from the Kingdom of Lyor was etched deeply in the corridors of my mind.
Even though I had never engaged in combat with her, there was a certain familiarity in the way she held herself.
As I sifted through the recesses of my memories, only one valiant knight surfaced who bore a resemblance to her: Count Benar.
It was highly probable that she utilized a similar form of swordsmanship reminiscent of his own techniques.
There lingered a possibility that there existed a connection between Letia and Count Benar, however, it was premature to draw any definitive conclusions.
Count Benar was the only knight hailing from Lyor whom I had engaged in a swordfight, a significant event as it was my initial encounter with a warrior from that realm.
Should the knights of Lyor possess a common foundation in their combat techniques, it is conceivable that I may have been pursuing a futile course of action by challenging them.
“Even if they use the same style, it varies depending on the opponent.”
Facing the imaginary Letia sent shivers down my spine and made my knees quiver in fear.
The difference in our skills was so vast that she didn’t even need to unsheathe her sword to overpower me.
Letia’s presence alone was enough to make me feel like a mere mortal standing in the presence of a mythical beast.
Despite being celebrated as a hero by many, to her adversaries, Letia was a nightmarish creature that struck fear into their hearts.
She possessed an aura of power and strength that made even the bravest warriors question their own abilities.
In that moment, as I gazed into her eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of being she truly was to have such a profound impact on me.
Driven by sheer defiance, I steeled myself and reached for my sword, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
In an instant, the world around me completely inverted as if I was looking through the lens of a camera rotating 180 degrees.
I felt a sharp disconnection as my head was violently separated from my body, and it began to whirl aimlessly through the air, disconnected and disoriented.
“Gah! Cough! Cough!”
The futility of the imagined death shattered my mental world, leaving me gasping for air.
I felt a chilling sensation as if my blood had frozen.
Trembling, I touched my neck, checking if it was still intact.
Once I confirmed it, I finally calmed down.
“Whew… Whew…”
Cold sweat trickled down my back, soaking my clothes.
As I had suspected, Letia was a truly terrifying adversary.
Other than my master, she was the only opponent who had completely bested me.
Though much younger than me, her overwhelming strength suggested she might surpass my master someday.
No, she would surpass him—it was inevitable.
I was certain of it.
“The world is vast…”
My master once said my talent was so rare it might appear once in a century, but I had encountered someone even greater.
A talent so immense, it made me feel like a frog in a well.
“Lunch is here! Hurry and eat!”
“Woohoo!”
My admiration for the imaginary Letia’s prowess was interrupted as the morning’s servant returned with lunch.
Smiling, I eagerly took a spoonful of slop.
But as soon as I tasted it, I stopped.
“Where’s the confidence you had earlier?”
“Haven’t you ever heard not to mess with food?”
The tip of my tongue stung from a sharp sensation, far worse than any carbonation—it was poison.
They had poisoned the slop to kill me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t want it, just say so instead of making excuses.”
“Well, it’s mouthwatering.”
“What?”
I resumed eating, shoveling the slop into my mouth.
Unfortunately for them, having grown up eating poisonous bugs and mushrooms, most poisons were just seasoning to me.
“Tastes great. Bring me more.”
“How… How are you eating it without hesitation…?”
“Forget it—bring me more! No, bring it all!”
“Crazy bastard…”
Dinner, the next morning, and the days that followed—all were poisoned.
The toxicity increased daily, as if they were searching for a lethal poison that could kill me.
Was this Letia’s order?
Or was it the servant’s independent action?