Chapter 24
East of Rhodes lay a forest of decent size, its paths beaten out by hunters’ feet.
No great beasts lived within—at worst, a few porcupines.
(Though why porcupines appeared here at all was the biggest question...)
Crack!
“Ah!”
A branch snapped, sending a small figure tumbling down.
“Ow, that hurts!”
Leticia rubbed her aching back, biting her lip as she climbed to her feet. “Brat, are you even capable?!”
“Tch, it’s your body, not mine. Isn’t it normal that I'm not used to it?”
On the other side, Stano grimaced as well. He had been controlling Leticia’s body, trying to climb the tree for so wild fruit. But the branch he stepped on was too weak. It broke at once, sending her crashing down.
Here it’s worth clarifying: after squeezing directions to the nearest gate out of that drunk in the city, Stano had acted quickly. He avoided wave after wave of crowds and disguised Leticia’s appearance.
Sars of dirt were the least of it. Stano had picked up a shard of glass, and with a few rough strokes, cut off her half-long hair, leaving her with a tangle of filthy strands.
He had gotten hold of his uncle’s final intel. But how to deliver it—that was the biggest problem.
He couldn’t simply run to his father Banson and blurt it out.
How could he explain the source?
Even if he passed it through one of his father’s contacts, he was still Stano Banson—the heir of the Banson family—not his father, the man of great military rit.
They would inevitably trace the matter back and report it to his father.
So he had to rely on another way.
On Leticia. This country girl could carry the intel for him.
Now the priority was ensuring her survival, and guiding her to sowhere under their nation’s influence, so she could deliver his uncle’s last ssage.
As for how he had pushed Leticia’s exhausted body to escape the city so effortlessly...
Heh. In a world of so-called “gods” and “demons,” unreasonable things naturally existed.
For example, certain combat techniques could make soldiers, even in extre fatigue, burn their vitality and life force to fight again with renewed strength.
Stano had studied much since childhood. He knew these forbidden techniques, used only in desperate monts.
But his father had strictly forbidden him from trying them. The damage was imnse.
There had been many cases: soldiers who fought like ten n for a short while, only to collapse afterward—so dead, so left permanently withered. Once-strong n aged in an instant, lucky to live two or three more years.
It was gambling with life, an extre trade of one for one.
And just now, in Rhodes, Stano had used such a trick on Leticia.
His father had only said he must not use it. Nothing about using it on soone else. And with danger pressing, if he hadn’t, Leticia would already be tied up awaiting judgnt.
He thought he had done no wrong.
Conveniently forgetting, of course, that he had been the one to rush in recklessly in the first place.
“I can’t. I need to rest!”
Leticia plopped down, refusing to move another step. “I beg you, stop ssing around!”
“...Fine.”
Stano fell silent, then relented. “Rest for now. But we’re not safe yet. Stay alert.”
Behind them lay Rhodes. Even leaving the gate, he could feel the tightening atmosphere. They had only escaped in the chaos.
It was fortunate Rhodes wasn’t too developed. In their capital, the Church had sacred devices for instant communication. If this had happened there, escape would’ve been impossible.
“Alert...”
At the word, Leticia felt the urge to scream. “If it weren’t for you, would I even need to be?!”
“Sorry.”
His apology was quick.
“Sorry?! Does that fix anything?!”
“It doesn’t.”
Stano said quietly. “But at least it might make you feel a little better. This is the first ti I’ve apologized to a woman outside my family. You should feel—”
“Feel your big stupid head!”
Leticia snapped. Her mood had bottod out. “Just let have so peace!”
“Oh.”
That seed to settle her down, and she didn’t ask again why he could control her body.
Stano sighed in relief, pulling his mind partly back into his own body.
The comfort, the lingering adrenaline—he nearly thought he’d dread it all. That none of it had really happened.
Now he needed to probe his father without revealing too much, and visit the family’s library.
He had to learn more about the definitions of “Sorceress,” “Witch,” and “Demon Maid.”
Finally free of Stano’s interference, Leticia felt like her whole body was falling apart, every muscle burning. Even “rest” was tornting.
Leaning on a tree trunk, she pulled out the note he had shoved into her underwear. She wanted to see what was so urgent that it justified all this insanity.
And then—“What the hell is this?!”
Though she had learned many words, the paper was covered in bizarre scrawls, like crooked worms, clearly encrypted.
She couldn’t understand a thing. She nearly scread.
Unreadable!!!
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