Chapter 7 :
Then, amidst the murmuring crowd, a mocking laugh erupted. Some whispered, "Looking at his face, he’s probably not the real father."
At this, the man’s face flushed crimson.
"Damn it...!"
The man’s curse and Kynemia’s vision tilting upward happened almost simultaneously.
"...?!"
The man hoisted Kynemia over his shoulder and bolted at full speed before anyone could react.
"Huh?!"
Kidnapping?! Just like this? So recklessly?!
"Eiyan-!"
Rikasha! Eiyan Kroetz! Where in the world is my bodyguard?!
'Gaaaaah!'
As Kynemia reeled from the sudden abduction, the scenery began blurring past her.
'Why is he so fast?!'
'Where did Eiyan go?'
She frantically scanned her surroundings, but the black-haired figure was nowhere in sight.
'He wouldn’t actually abandon me, would he?'
'No, he couldn’t...!'
A icy dread shot through her limbs.
Was it a lie that there was no resentment?
Maybe Grandfather, Mother, or Father had secretly provoked some grudge without anyone knowing!
But even so, dumping someone on the street like trash is unforgivable!
Kynemia thrashed wildly, but the man remained unfazed, sprinting effortlessly with her in tow.
'...No choice but to use this.'
Tears pooling in her eyes, Kynemia rolled up her sleeve. The elongated spell circle on her wrist glowed as she activated it.
Zap!
"Argh!"
A jolt like lightning struck the man, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Kynemia tumbled free, rolling until her back hit a wall. She winced, rubbing her sore bottom.
"...Oww."
As she nursed her bruises, the groaning man staggered upright and roared:
"What the hell was that?!"
"You started it! Do you have any idea how painful spell carving is?!"
High-ranking nobles often inscribed protective spells on their bodies—a costly, agonizing process with dwindling popularity due to its inefficiency. But in emergencies?
It paid off.
Like now.
"Who do you think you are, you insolent brat...?!"
The man yanked up his sleeves.
Tsk! Kynemia glared, then crawled on all fours to snatch a long stick from the corner.
'A broom?!*
Resigned, she gripped the handle and sprang to her feet.
"Stay put!"
As the man lunged, Kynemia ducked under his arm, whirled the broom, and jammed it against his solar plexus.
"You’re the one who should stay put."
The air shifted—calm yet charged. The man stiffened, shoulders hunched.
"Don’t move. Stab your solar plexus, and it’ll hurt. A lot."
"Hah... Crazy kid’s got guts..."
Despite his bravado, he froze.
Kynemia tracked his eyes and twitching muscles. A broom versus raw strength? If he grabbed her, it’d be over.
"Let’s walk away quietly, eh?"
When he swiped at the broom, Kynemia twisted her wrist and slammed the stick into his forearm.
Thwack!
"Yowch!"
She repositioned the broom at his chest.
"You...!"
Kynemia smirked.
"My mother wasn’t just any swordsman."
She’d been trained by the empire’s greatest hero.
'Talk about intense homeschooling...'
Airiya had insisted her magicless daughter learn swordsmanship—starting with grip techniques before she could even walk.
"You’re... a noble?!"
"What gave me away?"
"No wonder your clothes reek of money..."
The man’s curses died as hesitation crept in.
Not part of a syndicate, she deduced. Otherwise, he’d have called backup the moment he realized her status.
Lucky me.
Messing with a noble solo was suicide.
He’d be weighing his options: cut losses or double down. A noble child in a backwater market? High risk, low reward.
"Nowhere will take me. You think black markets roll out the red carpet for nobles? Do you know who my family is?"
"Plenty of places trade nobles—"
"With your connections? Please."
A backstreet thug brokering noble trafficking? Unlikely.
‘Worse, he’s too dumb to realize the repercussions. Might even kill me to avoid retaliation.’
Both scenarios spelled trouble.
‘But he’s listening. Maybe negotiation...?’
She tossed him a gold coin from her pocket. His eyes bulged.
"Take it. Walk away, and I’ll forget this happened."
A fortune for a child. The man clenched his fists, torn.
‘Just... leave?’
His pride burned, but her steely gaze screamed ‘not just any noble.’
...This could backfire.
Dammit...!
As his resolve wavered—
Eiyan observed from the rooftop, intrigued.
‘Hmm.’
He’d expected hidden magic. Instead, she wielded a broom with swordsmanship.
How’d she see the pattern without magic?
The mystery gnawed at him.
A lark alighted on his shoulder.
—Eiyan!
"Took you long enough."
—Ignoring my calls?! You’ve got no respect!
The bird’s chirpy voice clashed with its scolding.
"A lark, Master? Act your age."
—Adopting you was my life’s biggest mistake!
Eiyan’s lashes fluttered, eyes glistening.
"Master... that stings..."
—I didn’t mean—
"Kidding."
—?!
"Why fall for it every time? You think I’d care?"
—Brat! The lark pecked his ear.
—Someone’ll humble you someday!
"Unlikely."
—Why are you here?!
Eiyan pointed below.
A girl held a thug at broom-point, unwavering.
—Who’s that?!
"My charge. The Grand Duchess."
—?!
—IDIOT! SAVE HER!
The lark kicked him off the roof.
"Fine, fine."
Eiyan leapt down, utterly unbothered.
