Chapter 7: Apologize.
"……."
The musty smell of medicine filled the room.
It had been a month since Liamson, the Baron, had fallen bedridden due to illness.
Now, all that was left of his body were thin, brittle bones.
Due to his old age, neither medicine nor blessings seemed to offer any improvement.
With great effort, the baron managed to lift his body. But when he saw the person in front of him, he was taken aback. It wasn’t his son William, but Kamel.
"You, you… how come?! Where is William? Cough!"
"It seems I've come where I shouldn’t. Or should I have died instead?"
"Ca-call for William! Bring William!"
"Brother has been killed by assassins."
"Wha-what…!"
"By the assassins you sent after me, Father."
"You bastard!!!"
The baron shouted angrily, calling for the knights. But no one came knocking on the door.
Kamel stood before the baron’s bed and picked up a pillow.
Seeing this, the baron laughed weakly, as if resigned.
"Why can't I do it?"
"Have you forgotten the villages you wiped out? Six of them!"
"Taxes are essential for maintaining the family. I only set an example."
"You're a demon. You'll flood this land with blood!"
"Then you should have prepared more thoroughly."
"I should have killed you earlier. My hesitation has doomed us all…."
"Even without hesitation, it would have been impossible. Do you know why?"
Kamel forcefully pressed the pillow down over the baron’s face. Then, using his entire body, he began to smother him.
The baron flailed desperately under Kamel's weight.
Looking down at his father struggling beneath him, Kamel smiled.
"Because I knew everything."
The baron’s arms fell limp.
After dusting off his wrinkled clothes, Kamel didn’t give his father another glance as he stepped out of the room.
He saw the knights waiting for him.
The hallway was already drenched in blood.
The servants, including the butler who had served Baron Liamson, had all been slaughtered.
Walking calmly through the blood-soaked corridor, Kamel gave his orders.
"The baron died from the shock of hearing about the assassination of his son. Raise mourning flags on all the gates and prepare for the funeral."
"Yes, sir!"
"As soon as the fire is under control, arrest the knight captain and his men. They will be held accountable for burning down the inner city’s mineral warehouse. All these orders…."
Kamel handed over a letter stamped with his seal. The knights respectfully knelt on one knee and received it.
"I, Kamel Blazer, command in the name of the Lord of Blyer."
"Yes, sir!"
Once the knights had left, Kamel walked out of the manor, heading somewhere with purpose.
Though all urgent matters were now handled, there was still one crucial thing left to confirm.
The being who had distorted the future he knew.
That assassin.
He was supposed to have blown himself up, but instead, he had shown up, begging for mercy.
The only flaw and variable in his otherwise perfect plan.
‘There’s someone who knows I’ve returned to the past….’
The assassin had referred to ‘him.’
Kamel was curious about the one who had sent the assassin.
He rummaged through his memories of the future but couldn’t recall anyone who fit the description.
The fact that someone else knew the future, besides himself, was a significant threat.
It could completely unravel the carefully laid plans for his conquest of the continent, which he had been brewing for years since his return.
"I need to meet that assassin first."
Kamel stroked his chin, heading toward the tower.
For now, he would put off dealing with the assassin. Though, the odds were high he would kill him.
The underground prison beneath the tower.
Between the grimy iron bars, a dull thudding sound echoed.
Thud—!
"Ugh! Cough!"
I spat out a mouthful of blood as if I was vomiting up my pent-up frustration.
Looking at the pool of blood at my feet, it seemed quite some time had passed.
How long had I been beaten?
Was it day or night?
I had thought being captured alive was a good thing, but I hadn’t expected this unexpected ordeal.
It was the damn underground prison’s torturer.
This freak couldn’t go a day without beating someone, or he claimed his athlete’s foot would flare up.
When he asked, "Who are you?" I answered, "An assassin!"—and from that moment, I was strung up and beaten like a dog on a hot summer’s day.
‘That was close.’
A blow had landed on my abdomen just a moment ago. If he had hit me any harder, my internal organs might’ve suffered severe damage.
I’m not a fighter, and I’m definitely not someone who should know this sort of thing. It’s knowledge I picked up from my assassin training in Crux.
‘If I get hit much more, things will get dicey.’
The room was drenched in blood.
The brutal pig standing in front of me.
Despite the torture, I remained calm as I surveyed the situation.
Even though I was facing the torturer’s spiked club, I wasn’t scared—I just twisted my body to avoid getting hit directly.
I was half-dazed from fear and on the verge of panic, but I managed to hold on. The pain was maddening, yet it was also bearable.
It was as if, once the stimulation crossed a certain threshold, my mind reset.
I don’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but one thing was clear—it wasn’t good right now.
"You little shit! Stop staring at me!"
Thud—!
"Ugh…."
It seemed my indifferent reaction had annoyed the torturer.
At first, I tried to humor him.
I’m a pacifist, after all.
But it became clear that all he really wanted was to beat me senseless.
Hanging from the shaking chains, I spat out blood-tinged spit and glared at him.
"Apologize."
"What? Apologize? Hahaha! Look at this crazy bastard."
The torturer laughed heartily, clutching his stomach. He must have found my words surprisingly amusing. Sure, he held the power over my life, so my words probably seemed like a joke to him.
But he didn’t know.
That it was actually me who held his life in my hands.
"If you want to live, scream, ‘I’m sorry!’ and bring me something to eat."
"You haven’t had enough of a beating, huh? Why should I do that?"
"Because if I open my mouth, you’re dead."
"And what if I rip that tongue out?"
"Can you handle the consequences? I’m a high-priority interrogation target. If you pull out the wrong tongue, it might be your neck that gets pulled."
"……."
The torturer’s face twisted slightly. He set down the iron poker he had been heating and approached me.
"Maybe I should settle for one of your eyes."
"You pig…."
"I’ll make you beg for death."
Hey, isn’t this a bit much?
But for the torturer, "too much" wasn’t a thing. Did calling him a pig offend him that much?
The scorching hot poker inched closer. As the terrifying heat climbed from my cheek toward my eye, I cursed internally, I’m screwed, but then the torturer suddenly flinched and turned around.
Talk about perfect timing.
I never thought I’d be so relieved to see a villain.
"Step aside."
"Uh, Ugh! Lord Kamel!"
Kamel entered the room, accompanied by a knight.
The torturer couldn’t even make eye contact with the two of them.
Classic case of strong against the weak, weak against the strong.
The knight coldly looked down at the torturer and said,
"He is not a lord. He is the master. Do not make me say it again."
"M-master Kamel has arrived!"
"You've been rough with him."
As his shoes became stained with blood, Kamel furrowed his brow. Clearly, his mood had soured because his shoes were dirty. He didn’t even glance at me. Noticing this, the torturer fell prostrate before him.
"My-my apologies! The prisoner was very rebellious, so I was disciplining him! Please ask him anything! I’ll make him confess everything!"
Rebellious? All I did was ask for food, for fuck’s sake. How is that rebellion?
This sealed your fate, buddy.
I cleared my throat and shouted with a face full of injustice.
"Mr. Torturer! I’ve already confessed everything, haven’t I? Please let me go!"
"What?!"
The person who reacted was Kamel. Naturally, the torturer was bewildered.
"Wha-what are you talking about?! I don’t recall you saying anything! Where do you get off lying like this?!"
"You told me to confess during the torture! I’m just a messenger! All I did was pass along what ‘he’ said! What could I possibly be hiding?!"
"No-no, that’s not true, Master Kamel!! He’s lying right now!"
"Torturer."
"Yes, yes! My lord, speak!"
"Why did you torture him?"
"…That is…!"
See? You should’ve just stayed in your room instead of indulging in your nasty hobby. Now look at you, you thick-headed bastard.
The torturer clearly couldn’t say he just tortured me because he enjoyed it.
He hesitated for a moment, and in that instant, his fate was sealed.
If he had been torturing a random prisoner, maybe he could have gotten away with it. But unfortunately for him, I wasn’t just any prisoner. I was the messenger for someone who knew Kamel’s most sensitive secret—his knowledge of the future. And Kamel wasn’t someone who would tolerate such recklessness.
"Lyon," Kamel called softly.
At that moment, the knight’s sword flashed like lightning.
"Please, have mercy…! Kuhk!"
The sword pierced the torturer’s heart before he could even finish his plea. He crumpled to the ground, looking up with desperate eyes. But the knight, Lyon, showed no mercy, pulling out the sword and immediately severing the torturer’s head in one clean motion.
Thud—
The head rolled and stopped at my feet.
In that instant, the torturer's face was frozen in terror.
Revenge had been served, but for some reason, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I wasn’t cut out to be the villain, after all.
As the knight wiped his blade clean, he approached me. He pulled out a red vial from his pouch and poured the liquid into my mouth.
It was a healing potion.
The quality was excellent, as I felt my wounds healing almost immediately. Though I still felt sore, the torture had done less permanent damage than I feared.
I looked down at my body. Moving would still be difficult for a while, but at least I wasn’t dead. That damn torturer was brutal.
‘Maybe killing him was for the best.’
The knight, Lyon, brought a chair and placed it in front of me. Kamel sat down, his expression unreadable, and looked up at me.
My eyes flicked momentarily to the knight beside him.
Bronze-colored hair, a cold, emotionless gaze, and a lean but muscular build that suggested he was deadly with a sword.
He carried an aura similar to Kamel’s—an air of cold detachment and efficiency.
Kamel had called him Lyon Martrein.
‘The butcher’s right hand.’
Lyon Martrein was a future one-man army in Kamel’s service, a weapon forged by the knowledge Kamel had brought back from the future. He had started as the deputy commander of the Blyer Knights, but after several trials and loyalty tests, he would become one of Kamel’s most trusted subordinates.
Bringing him here was a clear sign of trust.
Kamel didn’t surround himself with just anyone. If Lyon was here, it meant Kamel already considered me important enough to bring his most capable soldier.
‘A dangerous gamble, but I’ll take it.’
Kamel, the kind of leader who ruled with charisma and cunning rather than brute strength, had an extraordinary gift for manipulation. His insight and strategic mind were unmatched, making him a difficult opponent to deceive.
Yet, deceiving him was exactly what I needed to do.
It was a risky play, but if I succeeded, I could escape the shadow of Crux and live free.
Kamel stroked his chin, his cold eyes fixed on me.
"Now then, let’s hear it," he said quietly.
"……."
"Why did ‘he’ send you?"
"A proposal for an alliance," I replied evenly.
"An alliance? An alliance only happens when both sides have something to gain. What does ‘he’ want from me?"
"Gold."
"……."
The mention of gold made Kamel’s expression harden for a split second.
"He said he needs a vast amount of gold. And he believes you’re the only one capable of providing it."
"Blyer owns many mines, but none of them are gold mines."
"He said a gold mine would appear within the next month."
"Hmph."
Kamel scoffed, but I could tell he was rattled.
‘He knows about the gold mine.’
The gold mine was a key part of Kamel’s future plans. It was something even I only knew about because of my assassin training in Crux. And yet, this mysterious figure ‘he’—someone who wasn’t even in Kamel’s memories from the future—knew of its existence.
The fact that ‘he’ had this kind of foresight raised the possibility that there was someone else with knowledge of the future, just like Kamel.
‘Could he be another regressor?’
Kamel briefly considered the possibility before shaking his head.
No, it didn’t feel right.
The temperament was different.
This figure wasn’t someone Kamel recognized, yet ‘he’ knew that Kamel had returned to the past.
If ‘he’ were a fellow regressor, there would’ve been no reason to send a messenger or propose an alliance. They would’ve simply tried to eliminate Kamel directly. After all, one regressor’s existence threatened the other’s future.
In other words, this person had some kind of unique ability to foresee Kamel’s plans.
‘Could it be a form of clairvoyance?’
Kamel hypothesized that the individual might possess a form of precognition or some other power that allowed him to know things beyond the ordinary. The crucial question was: how much did this person know about Kamel?
The more they knew, the greater the threat.
As Kamel mulled over the possibilities, he gently stroked his chin and smiled.
"What if I refuse the alliance?"
"He said he’d join forces with the Elletor family instead."
"Hahaha!"
Kamel burst out laughing.
The Elletor territory was Kamel’s next target after developing the gold mine. This was a direct threat to his plans. It was as though ‘he’ knew exactly where Kamel was most vulnerable and was exploiting it.
"I’ve made a grave miscalculation."
Kamel chuckled as he stood up from his chair.
‘He’ wasn’t just some slippery snake—he was much more dangerous than Kamel had initially thought. He bared his teeth in a wide grin, showing just how amused he was by the challenge.
Seeing that unsettling smile, I swallowed hard.
‘Shit, this is terrifying.’
Whenever Kamel smiled like that, it meant he was dead set on killing someone.
Just like now.