A windy winter.
Snowflakes fell sideways, striking the rusted rod of a torchlamp. Each step Seven took sent snow crunching and scattering beneath his feet.
He was probably the only fool running outside in this weather, confronting the winter head-on.
His breath fogged the air. He had barely finished a single lap.
"Damn it…" he cursed. "Is this what people mean by pushing their limits?"
Still, he went for another lap. His pace slowed almost immediately. It degraded into a brisk walk than a proper jog.
Suddenly, his stomach churned. He vomited. Memories of earlier flooded back to him.
After Iria had hugged him, he had insisted on eating the dinner tray she brought last night. Iria, of course, tried to stop him. But his people-pleasing instincts kicked in before his common sense could. He took only a bite.
Thing is, who could resist a meal that looked that good?
Now his stomach felt like it was being grinded from the inside. He had a thought the winter cold would keep the food from spoiling overnight.
Apparently not.
He drank four full glasses of water afterward. Then Iria prepared green tea. He managed only a sip before cursing the once at the nasty taste, just like yesterday. He discreetly poured the rest onto the potted plants outside the window.
Finished vomiting, he forced himself to move again.
He panted. Panted. And panted.
His body screamed to stop. Pain flared through muscles he didn't even know he had. He stumbled repeatedly, enough that one of the two knights patrolling the castle finally approached him.
"Are you alright, Young Lord?"
"Don't mind me. I'm fine," he waved the knight off.
Even though his words betrayed the sight of his trembling legs. The knight obediently followed his words, returning back to patrolling the area.
"This is stupid," he laughed at himself. "I've never worked this hard before."
And it was true.
Back when he was still Seojin, he had never put this much effort into anything. He lived on whims, drifting from one interest to another. Even so, he could clear hurdles more easily than people who worked themselves to the bone.
Because he was talented.
Smart. Quick to learn. Some might even call him a genius.
That was why he had always rejected the saying that hard work beats talent. From his own experience, it simply wasn't true. Talent won. Effortlessly. The only thing holding him back had been his isolation, his refusal to commit, and his lack of effort toward anything.
But now, things were different.
This was a world of swords and magic. A world detached from Earth's common sense. A world where in the novel, it highlighted that hard work really did beat talent.
In that thought, there was something strangely exciting.
Here, he might experience what that hard work actually feels like. To struggle like a normal person. To fall, then climb his way back up. To live fully immersed in the moment.
"Thinking about it now…" he muttered, still forcing his legs to move. "I really had a lot of regrets."
He had accomplished nothing.
That was why, if he were ever given the chance to return to Earth, he might immediately agree as he thought he might live differently.
Then again, going back to Earth was a phrase he had repeated countless times since yesterday. Truth was, it was simply just a coping mechanism to distract himself from reality. It was undeniable that this world was more intriguing.
Still…
Given how he had retained the knowledge of reading the novel, perhaps he could really live a normal life here.
He leaned against the rusted torchlamp.
"I'm tired, and it hurts," he muttered, clutching his legs. "This sharp pain… I've never felt anything like this before. It's making my mind go blank."
Thankfully, his body felt a little warmer now. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the adrenaline forced out by pushing himself past his limits, or his blood finally circulating properly again.
More than anything, though, it was the smooth flow of blue [Zi] through his veins, subtly regulating his body temperature.
Though it felt like he had run a mile, it had barely been two kilometers.
He had no desire to continue. In his head, he was already cursing himself for choosing to work this hard, directly contradicting everything he had just told himself.
After resting for a few minutes, he looked up and a snowflake landed softly on his face. He wiped it away.
However, a black butterfly suddenly rested on his fingers for a bit before it flapped its wings and flew. He frowned. Its presence made no sense. Butterflies should have been hibernating during winter.
Black butterflies, in particular, were often said to symbolize death.
"Wait… wait," he said, straightening as he followed it with his eyes. "This is really bad, isn't it?"
He found himself following it unconsciously. After a few meters, it slipped into a hollow in a tree, likely seeking warmth. Even so, the unease in his chest didn't fade. Superstitions about black butterflies bringing misfortune or death had no real proof behind them, but in his case, it fit far too well with his prewritten fate.
Letting out a sigh, turned around to head back and let superstitions be superstitions.
But he stopped in an instant and hid behind the same tree the butterfly had disappeared into.
"Huh? What is he doing here?" he whispered. "Didn't Iria say he only comes to the castle once in a while to deliver potatoes to his grandson?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Fudge no. I knew he was suspicious from the start."
It was Mister Aizen.
He had seen him three times just yesterday.
First, among the elders watching him and the children shout 'SUPER!'. Then again when he delivered potatoes. Finally, at the castle gate. The frequency didn't feel like a coincidence, as no village elder should be this busy in such a quiet place.
What was even stranger now was the knight walking beside him. It was the same one Aizen had handed the potatoes to yesterday.
No. More accurately… it looked like the elder was the one leading the way, not the knight.
"That's weird. Should I follow them?" he hesitated. "But doesn't this feel the same as those protagonists walking towards the trouble themselves?"
He clenched his teeth.
"...Damn it. Let's just do it."
He followed them, slipping between trees. He was near enough to hear them faintly, but they were not talking at all! He wanted to get closer, but he stepped on a small branch, making a rustling sound. He immediately hid behind the tree.
Aizen halted and looked behind. He scanned the trees, but found nothing but falling snowflakes and rustling leaves.
"…Commander?" the knight asked, following his line of sight.
"I thought I heard something," Aizen squinted on the very tree Seven hid behind. "Do you think someone is following us?"
Seven's heart slammed against his ribs. Nervous.
"No way, Commander. I patrolled the area a little while ago. Only the Young Lord is currently out, running in laps. Perhaps trying to live a new life," the knight said after a pause. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. "Shall I advance and confirm, Commander?"
'This is dangerous. Should I go back? But if I move now, they'll definitely notice. If I don't… I— wait! I'm the Young Lord of this castle. Even if I'm exposed, it shouldn't be a problem, right? But what if they're the ones who killed me in the novel?'
Run. Every instinct screamed at him to run. Aizez had the probability to be the culprit of the assassination.
"Leave it," Aizen replied, unexpectedly. Though he considered it for a brief moment. "I don't sense any [Zi] fluctuation there."
"Understood. If someone were stalking us, they would require considerable skill to fool the Commander's senses."
They both continued walking forward. The path ahead was barely visible. Their feet left no footprints in the snow. They were using [Zi] on their soles.
"…That was close," Seven whispered to himself. "I don't want to admit it, but… I think I got lucky."
Indeed. Because he hadn't opened his first [Zi Ring] yet, meaning he was completely undetectable. Knights, or anyone who had opened their third gate and above, could sense the presence of other gates or rings within range. But he had nothing.
There was nothing to sense.
Still, even though he wanted nothing more than to turn back, his curiosity refused to let go. He continued following them. Because of that, he finally found the one he was looking for. Tents. Weapons. The rest of the knights gathered together.
"…So this is where it was," Seven murmured. "The training ground."