"Don’t tell ," Clara said softly, "that you haven’t investigated him closely, Father. And I don’t an the gossip columns."
"...."
Henry fell into silence.
He turned back to his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a thick, sealed file stamped with the Marigold crest.
[Investigation Report: Subject - Lucien Ashborne]
Of course, he had investigated him. As the head of a Marquis family and a major investor in the Imperial Bank, Henry had eyes everywhere.
And the report... it confused him more than anything.
The "Trash" who had no redeeming qualities had suddenly changed a few months ago.
He no longer bullied others. He no longer acted weak. He had no talent for sword or magic, yet he had carved a terrifying niche as a Marksman—a class considered useless by knights.
But it was the incidents that kept Henry up at night.
The Fern Kingdom Lab Incident: Officially solved by Knight Samantha. But intelligence reports suggested a lone gunman breached the facility first.
The The Park Terrorist Attack: Officially thwarted by princes Celestia and other ducal heirs and tily intervention of knight Samantha.
The Slums Explosion: Officially an accident by Mariella Arlon. But the magical signature was... ancient. And the bodies found were not human.
To the masses, the Ducal Heirs were the heroes.
But to Henry, reading between the lines of the intelligence reports, a different picture erged.
Lucien Ashborne wasn’t a hero. Heroes stood in the light.
’He whipped himself into a weapon,’ Henry thought, looking at the file. ’A weapon that saved my daughter when the knights were too slow.’
"Whatever it is, he’s changed," Clara’s voice broke his reverie. "It’s hard for people to change, Father. But once they do... they don’t revert. You said that yourself."
"...I did."
Henry closed the file.
Further talk was pointless. He was too late. Far too late.
He looked at Clara. Her mind and heart were filled with Lucien alone.
Co to think of it, there was a saying in the Marigold family: ’Fathers never win against daughters.’
He trusted his wise daughter. If she saw sothing in that darkness, then perhaps... there was a light there that only she could see.
"I’m heading in, daughter," Henry said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Good night, Father!" Clara chirped, jumping up and kissing his cheek.
She bounded toward the stairs.
"Clara."
"Yes?"
"Rember," Henry called out, picking up his whiskey. "Your father doesn’t like Lucien."
Clara paused on the landing. She looked back, her pink twin-tails swaying.
"Yup! And your daughter loves Lucien to death!"
"Hmph!"
Henry grunted as she disappeared upstairs.
****
The next day, when I returned from the Academy—exhausted from dodging Clara’s affection and managing Ariana’s possessiveness—I expected peace. I expected the quiet hum of a well-oiled household.
Instead, I walked into a spectacle that made question if I had walked into the wrong house.
The sll of fresh ocean breeze and vinegar filled the air.
In the open kitchen, an old man was standing at the counter. He was wearing one of Lily’s spare frilly aprons, which looked ridiculous over his formal trousers.
And he was... dancing.
rle, the forr Chief Researcher of the Luveil Institute, was shaking his hips rhythmically to a tune he was humming, his knife flashing in the light as he sliced a fish with surgical precision.
Slice. Wiggle. Slice. Wiggle.
"Manager rle?" I asked, standing in the doorway with my bag hanging off one shoulder.
The humming stopped. rle spun around, knife still in hand.
"Oh! Mr. Lucien! Welco back!"
He wiped his hands on the apron, looking far too pleased with himself.
"I’m preparing Sashimi. Lily taught the basics, but I applied so... alchemical precision to the cuts. Does it look alright?"
I looked at the platter. The fish was sliced so thinly it was translucent, arranged in the shape of a blooming lotus flower. It was art.
"Uh... Yes. Sure. It looks... professional."
Lily and Irina popped up from behind the counter. Irina’s face was dusted with flour, and Lily was beaming.
"Grandpa rle is amazing, Master!" Lily chirped. "He learns so fast! He is very quick learner.
rle picked up a slice with chopsticks and offered it to .
"Care for a taste, Boss?"
"If you insist."
I opened my mouth, feeling slightly awkward being fed by an old man, but I took the bite.
"...."
Lily, Irina, and rle watched my mouth with tense anticipation.
The fish lted on my tongue. The texture was perfect—not too chewy, not too soft. The slight acidity of the vinegar he used was balanced perfectly.
"It’s delicious," I admitted.
"Haha! Good to hear!"
rle sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. It was a rather amusing sight for a man who could level a city block with a card.
"Seems you find kitchen work interesting, rle."
rle’s expression shifted. He placed the chopsticks down and looked at with a newfound seriousness.
"Mr. Lucien."
"Yes, go ahead."
"May Irina and I... join the staff of Kitchen 21?"
The unexpected request made blink. I glanced between rle and his granddaughter. Irina looked hopeful, clutching Lily’s sleeve.
"Join? What about your workshop? And the Pawn Shop?"
"The Pawn Shop is gone," rle said, his voice steady. "The Shadow Stalkers’ attack destroyed the structural integrity. And honestly... it was never a thriving business. It was just a hiding spot."
He looked around the warm, clean kitchen.
"I’m tired of hiding in the dark, Mr. Lucien. And I need a safe place for Irina."
I looked at him.
Who was rle? He was an A-Rank Alchemist. A walking library of forbidden knowledge. A man who had survived the fall of an Empire.
Him asking to work for —for a salary of room and board—was like a diamond pie falling from the sky.
"Well," I smirked, hiding my internal cheer. "It’s always welco to hire new employees. Especially skilled ones."
"Thank you!"
"Yay!"
Irina hugged Lily, beaming happily. rle bowed deeply.
"By the way," I asked, looking at his bandaged neck. "How’s your health? You were at death’s door two days ago."
"Lily told you poured high-grade potions down my throat and even called a Temple Priest for purification," rle said softly. "Thanks to that, the mana burns from Elena left no scars. That must’ve cost a fortune."
"Don’t worry about it. A life is worth more than money. Obviously."
’Though checking the treatnt bill nearly stopped my heart,’ I added internally. 15,000 Gold was no joke.
rle chuckled. For soone just recovered, he was brimming with energy.
"We’ll be in your care for a while. Oh, and... since I am now an employee, I should show you my first contribution."
rle wiped his hands and gestured toward the back hallway.
"Follow to the storeroom. The waves of inspiration wouldn’t let rest."
****
The storeroom had been converted into a ssy lab. Sketches, tools, and tal filings were scattered everywhere.
"You started working right after waking up?" I asked, stepping over a pile of scrap tal.
"That’s an alchemist’s nature," rle shrugged. "And this... is the result."
He pointed to the workbench.
Lying on a velvet cloth were ten bullets. But they weren’t lead or steel.
The warheads were carved from glowing Gemstones.
"Magic Bullets," rle announced proudly. "Developed in the Luveil Empire but discontinued before mass distribution due to the Dungeon Outbreak."
I picked one up. It was heavy. The casing was brass, but the tip was a perfectly cut Ruby, etched with microscopic runes.
"Magic Bullets? Like your cards?"
"Sowhat similar. Though crafting is far more complex."
rle picked up a blueprint.
"The casing is standard. I add high-grade mana stone powder to the propellant. But the warhead... that’s the key. By engraving a magic circle onto a gem, the bullet activates a spell upon impact."
He pointed to the scattered gems.
"Ruby for [Explosion]. Sapphire for [Freeze]. Erald for [Acid]. And Topaz for [Lightning]."
My eyes widened.
This was exactly what I needed. My Winchester had high physical damage, but against spirits or physical-immune enemies, I struggled. These bullets would turn my rifle into a magic staff.
"It’s tough work," rle admitted, adjusting his monocle. "But I can produce about five a day."
"Magic bullets, huh? Nice."
"Beyond nice—excellent," rle corrected. "But to use them effectively, your weapon needs an overhaul. Standard rifling will shatter the gems before they leave the barrel."
He extended his hand.
"If you hand over your guns, I’ll upgrade them. I need to adjust the chamber pressure and re-inscribe the barrel runes."
I hesitated for only a second.
"You’re confident?"
"Mr. Lucien," rle smiled, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. "I’ve worked on guns multiple tis in my youth. I even maintained the firearms of The Executioner."
I froze.
"Oh... The First Gun Master? The Holy Executioner?"
"Yes, indeed. He was a difficult client. Always complaining about recoil."
rle laughed, unaware of the weight of his words.
The Executioner. The legendary figure whose class I had inherited—or was mimicking. The fact that rle knew him... this was fate.
Without hesitation, I unholstered the Winchester and my Revolver.
"Hmm, good. Leave it to . I’ll make them sing."
"Thank you. That’s reassuring."
Having secured the weapons, rle leaned back against the workbench.
"One last thing, Boss."
"Yes?"
"Lily ntioned you’re planning to move the establishnt. When you do... may Irina and I co along?"
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