Aslan lifted his head. At first, he thought the girl standing before him remained so calm and composed in this situation because she possessed some kind of extraordinary courage. But he quickly noticed a twisted emotion in her eyes—a hint of pathology that was hard to ignore.
After all, most of the beings Aslan had interacted with were fairies. While not every fairy was entirely pure of heart, those he'd encountered were generally kind toward humans and emotionally straightforward. Compared to them, the girl before him couldn't even begin to hide the sickening feelings in her eyes.
This wasn't the kind of "yandere" obsession that had a strange charm to it—this was something far worse. The kind of pathological fixation that made you want to stay far, far away from someone, preferably for the rest of your life.
Though she looked elegant and polite, and her appearance could even be called beautiful, her soul and personality were already rotting. That willful possessiveness—though she tried to suppress it—had long since become second nature to her. She had no idea how to mask the madness in her gaze, not truly.
No wonder they called this era the dark age of Britain. Even someone like this could emerge. In Aslan's view, a noble lady with such a twisted personality didn't belong in this world at all—she seemed more like a character straight out of Akame ga Kill.
Still, there were a few redeeming points. As far as he could tell, the girl's mental issues hadn't yet turned homicidal. She still carried herself like someone who had received a proper education. At the very least, she didn't smell of blood.
Her obsession was limited to wanting to possess knight swords—many of them, and the more unique, the better.
"Mister Blacksmith, I've already gathered all the materials needed to forge a knight's sword. Would you be willing to honor me with your skills?"
This wasn't love—not in the slightest. The possessiveness in her eyes wasn't directed at Aslan the person, but rather at what he could create. Aslan was indeed good-looking, but what this girl cared about more than his face was his ability to forge knight swords.
It was a rare moment. Finally, a girl was more interested in Aslan's craft than his appearance.
"My dear daughter, I understand how badly you want a knight's sword of your own—but could you restrain yourself just a little? This really isn't the right time..."
Most of the nobles present were stunned by the girl's boldness. The atmosphere was still tinged with the shock of recent events, and no one had fully recovered. Right now, the host's top priority should have been to calm his guests, not allow his daughter to stir things up further. But clearly, he doted on her far too much to interfere.
The girl merely pouted and grabbed Aslan's arm. "Just leave this to Father. Mister Blacksmith, come with me to my room."
Without waiting for a reply, she dragged Aslan toward the upper levels of the castle. Since her father indulged her to an extreme, nearly half of the castle was hers alone. Along the way, Aslan saw countless swords displayed on the walls. Though there were many, not a single one was a renowned blade.
After all, the swords forged by the fairies—those worthy of passing down through generations—could never be bought with money.
Most of these legendary weapons chose their own masters. And the girl before him was certainly not the type who would be selected—unless it was by a cursed sword.
Midway through their climb, Aslan shook off the girl's hand. As a gentleman, he wouldn't embarrass her in public. But now that no one else was around, it was time to make his stance clear.
His forging techniques came from the sincere and warm-hearted fairies. He would never create a weapon for someone with such a warped and unhealthy mind.
His weapons had already reached the point where they could begin to develop a sense of self. Forcing one of them into the hands of a girl like this would surely corrupt the blade into a cursed sword. That would be a tragedy—not just for the weapon, but for the girl as well.
"Miss, please let go of me. I won't craft a weapon for you. You are not someone I can acknowledge."
The girl froze mid-step, stunned. Her expression changed rapidly—from disbelief, to shock, to resentment. Then everything faded into a single, dangerous glint of ruthless determination. Her eyes were wild, but her expression remained carefully composed.
It was unnerving. Deeply unsettling.
SAN Value Warning!
She stared blankly at Aslan. Realizing she could no longer control her swirling emotions, she simply closed her eyes and smiled.
"Ah... is that so? Perhaps you just don't understand me yet. But you're our savior, after all. So... would you allow us to host you for a couple of days? I'm sure Father would agree."
Aslan looked at her. Truthfully, he hoped she would take the hint and back off. While he could leave right now, he hadn't forgotten his reasons for coming here: aside from learning unfamiliar forging techniques, he was also searching for a magus to begin his training in magic.
The first goal had been met. But the second still lingered. And this gathering was probably his best shot at finding a magus.
So be it.
If this girl kept pestering him, he would make her pay the price. People who kept clinging to others even when they knew they were unwanted—those were the ones who truly needed a hard and lasting lesson.
Aslan touched the forging hammer at his waist, then turned and walked away from the girl, heading back toward the great hall. If Melusine had seen what just happened, she'd definitely be sulking again. That girl should be thankful Melusine wasn't someone like Kiyohime—or she'd have been burned to ashes by now.
When Aslan entered the hall, he saw Melusine gripping a roasted lamb leg from the banquet table, her face full of irritation.
"Ugh! Stupid Aslan! Why do girls keep falling for you? It's so annoying!"
Aslan gave a helpless laugh and quickly walked over to hug her from behind.
"She didn't fall for me—she fell for my skills. So, did you find any magus?"
Aslan's understanding of magic was still shallow, and he wasn't great at sensing magic either. Melusine's instincts for detecting magical energy were far superior, which is why they had agreed on the way here that this task would be hers.