"Here. This will be your quarters."
"Oh... it's better than where I was living."
A room perfectly sized for one person. The futon was neatly folded in the corner; beside it stood a wardrobe and a desk. Sunlight streamed in through the window. Compared to picking through back-alley trash or sleeping on old newspapers, this felt like a five-star hotel.
"I'm glad you find it adequate."
"What about Lee Sang? Does he sleep here alongside me?"
"Given our mentor-mentee bond, I'll take first watch. Otis will oversee your training, so be prepared."
Otis—that Ferro tribeswoman with the rigid posture from earlier.
"But Lee Sang, I have one question."
"What is it?"
"I'm Baekhyun. You're Lee Sang. But why do the others go by names like Meursault, Sinclair, Faust, Otis… they all sound foreign?"
"The Sword Sect formed when sword aficionados—more precisely, those who relish cleaving and piercing in combat—came together. There's no requirement that members be native-born, and almost no one uses their birth name in operations."
So it really is just a den of lunatics…
"Then is Lee Sang not really Lee Sang?"
"I am Lee Sang, but if that identity isn't genuine, can I still be called Lee Sang? From the start there's the concept of my identity and my chosen name. Which one am I living as?"
Lee Sang has glitched. What a strange man—he won't respond when I call him, just mutters aspirin or adalin or some drug names. Should I slip out on my own?
"You're here. Shouldn't you still be inspecting the buildings with Lee Sang?"
"When I asked him, 'If Lee Sang isn't Lee Sang, then what is he?' he suddenly stared at the sky and began mumbling."
"I see. Understood. Then let me guide you through the remaining buildings."
Faust closed her book and stood. Behind her, shelves groaned under countless volumes.
"What are all these books?"
"Ah. These are records of the Sword Sect's techniques. They're written in various languages, some even in extinct grammatical systems. I oversee restoring and translating these documents."
All these books? The walls—save the entrance—were packed floor to ceiling. My head spun.
Hmm… this looks a lot like English.
I knew Danguk's script resembled Hangul from poring over newspapers as a child, but I never realized parts resembled English. Is this the language of Columbia, or Victoria?
"Hmm… ja…buk? beop??"
Is that how you read it? The meaning seems like "law," but some words don't parse.
"Faust, how do you read this? Faust…?"
Her eyes—slightly intimidating.
"You came from the back alleys, didn't you?"
Am I being suspected?! A spy from another faction?!!!
If Meursault is the leader and the strongest… if I fought Faust and won, could I?
"I picked up letters bit by bit in the back alleys. Why?"
I should have grabbed my sword… Could I dash forward and snatch the blade at her waist?
"I see… Stay here a moment."
Still suspecting me? Instant execution? Then maybe I should strike first—!
"…?"
"I'm giving you this. You seem talented with languages; you'll pick it up quickly. If you have questions, come to me or Lee Sang and we'll answer them."
Surprisingly, the book Faust handed me was an elementary-level vocabulary list. I completed high school in the Republic of Korea… and now I'm back to grunt work?
"Where do you think you're going?"
"No… I want to leave…!"
"You entered at your leisure, but you won't leave on your own terms. Now, this word…"
"I hate studying!!!"
And so I was force-fed a chaotic torrent of new knowledge.
"It's already dark. Let's stop here for today."
Thankfully, the words themselves weren't too difficult, and they didn't differ drastically from grammar and vocabulary I already knew—plus Faust's patience helped me learn quickly.
"I'm hungry… sleepy…"
Not that I enjoyed it—every time they resumed teaching, sleep slammed into me like a freight train.
"Oh? How far have you gotten?"
"I've been with Faust here for hours. Lee Sang is weird."
"Weirdness is expected of Lee Sang. More importantly, have you tested your sword yet?"
"No. Instead, I studied language. Baekhyun, you have an unexpected gift for languages."
"'Unexpected' isn't exactly a compliment, is it?"
"Ahem… I'll head to the mess hall first. You two should check out the training grounds."
"Stop dodging—right?!!!"
"Good idea, Miss Faust. Let's go, Baekhyun."
I'll remember that clever lunatic.
"This is the training ground."
A flat plateau at the mountain's summit, with several wooden dummies set up.
"This is… just an open field?"
"Form follows function, not aesthetics. This space is frequently used by me and others."
True—if someone like Meursault swung a blade indoors, the building would collapse.
"Now can we go eat? I swear I won't cling to the ceiling or walls."
"Hmm. Let's go. I'm getting hungry too—dinner time."
"Mmm, this is good."
"I appreciate a palate that isn't finicky, youngster."
Dinner: rice with soy sauce, kim, and a few side dishes. I'm grateful for even this.
"You eat with such gusto! I like it!"
"If I don't eat now, who knows when I'll be rifling through dumpsters again."
"""""".........""""""
"Did I let that slip?"
But it's true. To get meals, you'd have to raid a back-alley office with some reputation, or scavenge in the trash. I practically lived in dumpsters until I was seven.
"Here. Eat this too. Whether plant or human, growth requires nourishment."
"Th-this is… well, it's meat, but okay! Please, take it! Quickly!!!"
"You're gripping it so hard it's tearing—Mr. Don Quixote?"
"If this is okay, would you like some?"
"Youngster, don't sneak vegetables to me on the sly."
"Ugh… it's not that…"
I don't know how long it's been since I had such a lively meal.
I'm… happy.
For now, that's enough.