The interior of the tavern, which had been a disaster zone not long ago, was now neatly organized thanks to Yujin and Daniel‘s efforts. As usual, Daniel was behind the bar, polishing a glass.
"…I was going to help you look for her, but it seems you‘ve already found her."
Daniel spoke as his eyes fell on Raquelamalin, who was still on Yujin‘s back. Kisha was clinging to Yujin‘s leg as well. Daniel watched the group and offered a faint smile.
"Is that your wife and daughter?"
"It is not. Seriously, stop with the jokes."
Raquelamalin‘s face turned scarlet at the mention of the word 'wife.' Kisha quickly ducked behind Yujin‘s leg to hide.
Before heading upstairs, Yujin stopped to address a concern.
"Daniel."
"Hmm? What is it?"
"She is Infected. Do you have an issue with her staying inside?"
Daniel didn't even blink. He nodded dismissively and pointed toward the guest rooms.
"It doesn‘t matter to me. Both your 'wife and daughter' look exhausted; get them to a room quickly—"
"One more word and I‘m breaking the bar top."
"Tch. No sense of humor."
Before sending Larin up, there was one more piece of business to settle.
"…Kiril, come in."
The boy, who had been hovering outside the threshold, slowly stepped into the tavern.
Hearing the name Kiril, Daniel‘s eyes widened. Yujin stepped aside, and the two members of the family, bearing the same golden hair and eyes, looked at one another. Daniel‘s trembling hands and Kiril‘s clenched fists spoke of a bond that was strained but unbroken.
Yujin didn't know the specifics of their fallout, but blood wasn't an easy thing to cast aside. He had brought Kiril here hoping that a face-to-face conversation could finally mend the rift.
"The stage is set. You two handle the rest."
"…How did you even find him?"
"Luck? Fate? I don't know. Let‘s just say I got lucky. For the record, I‘m on Kiril‘s side. He is my disciple, after all."
With that, Yujin turned his back on father and son and headed upstairs. He led Larin to his room and carefully placed her in a chair.
"Shouldn't you go back down?" Larin asked.
"From here on, it‘s a Nearl family matter. As an outsider, I shouldn't meddle."
He was technically a Nearl representative now, but they weren't that close yet. It was a father-son issue, and Yujin knew better than to stick his nose into that business.
"More importantly, I have a major problem of my own."
Yujin looked at Larin. She seemed to know what he was referring to and gave a slow nod.
"The people who attacked you... and the monsters hunting Kisha."
They looked like Sarkaz. But they were creatures who seemed to be undying husks—abominations. Why were they targeting the Banshee Princess and Kisharsinagh? Did they realize that by touching Larin, they were inviting the wrath of the entire Banshee race?
He needed to hear the truth from her.
"…Where should I even begin?"
Raquelamalin clasped her hands in her lap, her expression somber. It was time for the long story. To tell it properly, she had to start from the very beginning—at the Banshee Valley.
By the time Raquelamalin finished her story, Yujin‘s face had hardened. He headed downstairs to find Daniel drinking directly from a bottle.
"You look troubled," Daniel noted.
"…Yeah. The deeper I dig, the more complicated this gets."
"Have a drink. My heart feels much like yours right now."
Daniel poured a glass and pushed it across the bar. Yujin downed it without hesitation.
"Mind if I vent a bit? I have many things to lament."
"I can be your listener."
"Good... I appreciate that."
Daniel set aside a separate bottle for himself and one for Yujin. He lowered his head and began his confession.
"I am... a failure. A failure of a son, a failure of a father, and I was a poor husband."
Born as the Nearls began their decline, Daniel had experienced a life of constant pain. He often wondered: if he had possessed a talent for the blade rather than a talent for commerce, would things have been different? He had no answers.
"The family put everything on me as the last direct descendant. But I had no gift for knighthood."
What is a knight? An object of admiration? A protector? Everyone has their own definition. To Daniel, "knight" was a word he learned to hate. He had no talent, yet he was forced to clutch a sword until his hands bled. Until he saw the world outside the manor, he followed his family's path without a word of complaint.
Eventually, even the elders realized he was better suited for other things. Daniel didn't just have an "average" talent; his affinity was geared entirely toward trade and the flow of capital.
"I enjoyed it. Reading documents, predicting markets, following the flow of wealth... it was far more fulfilling than holding a spear."
He had found a wife and climbed the ranks of the Merchant Association until he reached its core. Then came Kiril. His son was nothing like him. From the moment he could walk, Kiril looked up to his grandfather and dreamed of being a knight.
Daniel hadn't stopped him. He figured he could restore the family through wealth while his son handled the honor. If Kiril wanted that path, Daniel was prepared to support him.
But then, the hammer fell.
Those who feared the name Nearl rising again made their move. His contacts within the Association crumbled like sand, and branch family members began disappearing in "accidents."
Finally, his wife contracted Oripathy through mysterious circumstances and withered away. Then, the current head of the Nearl house—Daniel‘s father—died.
'Do not fear hardship or darkness.'
Following those family words, Daniel‘s father died fighting to protect the weak. He had walked into a blatant trap, led by his conscience; he saved those he intended to, but he couldn't save himself.
"…That‘s when I forced Kiril to stop."
As a father, Daniel tried to lock his son away from that dangerous legacy to save him. He had slapped Kiril‘s face when the boy raved about vengeance. He knew all too well how a youth's impulse ended in this city.
"Eventually, the road led us here. I met you, and I‘m ready for one last gamble. I never wanted my son to be part of it... but..."
Daniel gave a hollow laugh, thinking of Kiril. "The boy is too much like my father and my wife. He told me that if I die, he‘ll follow me into the grave. He won't give up."
Daniel had failed to protect anything. If he had been a better knight, would things have changed? He was desperate to protect his last remaining bloodline.
"Yujin, will you truly carry the weight of the name Nearl?"
Daniel‘s golden eyes searched Yujin's. Yujin, who had been quietly sipping his drink, nodded. If this plan failed, the Nearl name would be erased from Kazimierz history. It was a staggering responsibility.
Yujin looked into his own heart. What did the name Nearl dream of? What did he dream of? Why had he wanted to be a knight since the beginning?
A knight is someone who protects the weak. To a boy growing up in the gray, monochromatic rot of the backalleys, that ideal had become everything.
"Daniel, what does 'knight' mean to you?"
"…Knight?" Daniel chuckled. "I don't know. To me, it feels like nothing more than a hollow fantasy."
"A hollow fantasy..." Yujin mused. "Here is what I think."
To follow one's convictions.
To lift the sword for the poor and the sick.
To stand for the weak against the wicked.
To defend one's honor.
And to protect everything one has learned to love.
That is what it means to be a knight.
"That is why I will help you. I will gladly carry the name Nearl."
What started as a casual alliance was now something else. It was a shared destiny.
"But I have one condition."
"A condition?"
"It might sound like useless stubbornness... but I will only use Nearl combat styles in the competition."
"…You mean—"
"If I don't, it has no meaning."
Daniel wanted to ask if it was even possible for a Sarkaz to master his family‘s style in such a short time, but the question died in his throat. Yujin was already taking on enough risk for them. He realized what the boy was trying to prove.
"It is your choice. I will trust you."
Daniel reached for his bottle again, but Yujin stopped him. He had a request.
"Bring me everything. The Nearl combat records, their Arts theories, their history of battle. I want it all."
"…Can you learn it all from records alone?"
"I have to. If I don't, we‘re finished."
Records alone weren't ideal, but time was a luxury they didn't have. He had to start immediately. And with Larin‘s problems added to the pile...
The tasks ahead were a mountain, but he would climb it one stone at a time.
"…Whew."
Three months left. He would see this to the end.