Chapter 3
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Translator: Diva
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: They Say a 300-Year Age Gap Doesn't Even Check Compatibility
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Soldiers stared in surprise at the knight standing there with a murderous glare.
“Sir Heron?!”
“Why so suddenly…”
“Th-this bastard… tried to kill the hostage and shift the blame onto us.”
An excuse for the impulsive murder that even he couldn’t comprehend spilled from the knight’s mouth.
“Probably an assassin sent by some shady faction in Bardia.”
It took only an instant for the facts to twist in the soldiers’ minds.
“Gasp! Such…!”
“This filthy dog!”
Anger blazed in the soldiers’ eyes as they looked down at the traitor whose head and body lay separated.
“We should hang that scum’s head on the castle gate right now.”
“Exactly. We need to make an example for the turncoats.”
‘Figure it out yourselves and get the hell out already.’
I needed to check the blood-soaked man’s condition quickly—he was battered head to toe.
‘And there’s plenty I need to hear from him.’
As I hoped, they gathered up the corpse and left the room.
After tossing down just a single tube of healing ointment.
‘Isn’t that too harsh even for a hostage who isn’t a criminal?’
Only after the knight and soldiers’ clanking footsteps and the lock clicking shut faded completely did I roll out from under the bed, still wrapped in the blanket.
“Uh… you okay?”
If I hadn’t crashed down on top of this man, he wouldn’t have ended up this injured.
Feeling guilty, I asked—and the man sprawled on the floor abruptly propped himself up.
‘Whoa!’
“This is nothing.”
After enduring such a ordeal, he replied calmly, as if it were no big deal.
“To mistake that amateur for an assassin—has Heron lost his mind?”
He merely glanced at the traitor’s bloodstains and clicked his tongue.
He found the knight and soldiers’ sudden outburst odd, but thankfully didn’t pry further.
“You saw quite the ugly scene. Weren’t you scared?”
I nodded and wriggled fully free of the blanket, approaching him.
‘Those jerks. If you tie someone’s arms, at least untie them before you go.’
Up close, I saw the restraints on his wrists and ankles were special mana-absorbing cuffs.
Not the sort that aura could slice through.
‘No helping it. Treatment first.’
Curiosity can wait.
“Let me help you get your clothes off.”
“Clothes? Right now?”
How else was I supposed to see the wounds?
But why that look again…
As I tilted my head, he said something unexpected.
“I’ll wash up quick first.”
With that, he shook his arms—bound behind his back—like he was dusting them off.
A heavy thud soon followed as something hit the floor.
“……!”
It was the cuffs from his wrists.
‘How the hell did he get those off alone?’
Checking closely, the jagged, torn edges were clear.
He’d snapped restraints tougher than steel using raw physical strength alone.
‘Wow, this is straight-up insane.’
The expedition team that conquered demon territory were all monsters in their own right, but this man was a monster of a different breed.
He nonchalantly detached the chains from his ankle cuffs too.
…I swear I heard metal crumpling with a crunch.
Are those ruined now?
How does someone with that kind of brute strength end up like this? Hostage, beaten and locked up—it didn’t fit at all.
“You’re not going anywhere, right?”
While I stood there stunned, the man—grabbing clothes on his way to the bathroom—turned back to ask.
“I’ll wait, so go on.”
His ear tips flushed faintly red at my reply; he nodded and headed in to wash.
‘Guess he’s the type who likes staying clean.’
Most would put off washing with wounds that painful.
As I pulled emergency potions and treatment tools from my space bag, I mulled over the day’s events.
Why had the return spell—tuned to Mikhail’s coordinates—misfired?
How could rock-solid Bardia get backed into a corner in mere years, letting some new kingdom rise?
Impossible if Mikhail were around.
‘…No way he’s in trouble, right?’
The thought alone made my heart plummet.
No, couldn’t be.
There had to be some other explanation.
“Why the long face?”
Right then, the man emerged from the bathroom and approached, asking.
‘Gasp…’
I turned without thinking—and couldn’t hold back a startle.
His loosely draped gown left his chest fully exposed.
“You alright?”
As he bent to peer at my face, his rock-hard abs came into full view too.
‘What… his body…’
The expedition’s lopsided gender ratio meant I’d seen plenty of men’s bodies—purely as comrades, zero thrill.
So why was I this flustered now?
“Shall we head to the bed?”
He whispered low, closing in until our noses nearly brushed.
“If you’re into it like this, I don’t mind.”
What did preferences have to do with wound care?
I burst out laughing at the absurdity.
“Obviously the bed’s comfier.”
I got him seated first and reached for the potion vial—when suddenly firm arms encircled my waist.
“Save that for later.”
“……?”
I blinked at him in bewilderment.
Potency peaked right after injury, no?
Wait—more importantly, why was he pulling me close…
“Can I kiss you? Won’t rush like before…”
His sudden request jolted me into blurting,
“Treatment first!”
We had talking to do after anyway!
“Hm? Treatment?”
He echoed, as if it were out of left field.
‘No way…’
A realization hit; I had to ask,
“Uh, you didn’t… misunderstand ‘take off your clothes,’ right? You got that it meant treating wounds, yeah?”
He blinked slowly, then eased his hands from my waist.
“So… you didn’t mean to keep going.”
His lips quirked downward faintly.
“…Sorry.”
‘Oh lord.’
He’d totally misread it.
‘Then this potion too…’
Probably thought it was some bedroom oil or aphrodisiac.
His mistake, yet why was my face scorching?
“Thanks, but I don’t need treatment.”
“Huh? Why?”
He parted his gown, baring his torso at my question.
‘What—the wounds…’
I’d clearly seen that traitor unleash mana in a brutal beating, yet his body was pristine.
‘Not just brute force, then. How?’
Human recovery like that—without demon blood?
Gazing at his flawless form, I felt awe.
“You don’t know much about me?”
He asked cautiously.
‘What to say…’
I hesitated, then just nodded silently.
“You didn’t leap into bed clueless about who I am… right?”
“…I heard you’re Bardia’s deposed crown prince.”
“Ah.”
The flicker of unease in his eyes settled at my words.
“Well, the rest we can learn bit by bit. Plenty of time.”
Doubtful.
Time depended on his answer to my question.
“Um, one thing I’m curious about.”
I watched his face closely as I spoke.
“What’s your connection to Mikhail?”
“Mikhail…?”
“Yeah. Bardia’s founding king, Mikhail. Where is he now?”
Puzzlement clouded his gaze.
“What’re you getting at? Curious about the founding king’s vanishing—over three hundred years ago?”
“Uh…?”
What?
“Three hundred… years?”
“Roughly. Happened fifteen years after the expedition set out.”
I gaped at him, stunned.
‘What did I just hear?’
“Big fan of Bardia’s history, huh?”
He smiled softly, tugging my hand.
“I’ll tell you everything. Come, sit.”
It felt like sinking into something firm and springy—not quite the bed—but I had no room to notice.
“As everyone knows, the missing founding king’s fate is a mystery. No body, no clues—nothing.”
So the theories go.
That Mikhail joined the expedition.
That he finally set off to reunite with his dear friend, Iserna Airbaine.
Because the day he left the palace, he’d looked so utterly joyful.