I Will Live for Your Death (20 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8

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The officer nearly dropped his gun. Had he heard things due to drunkenness, or had he truly gone mad?

But it was clear. The woman standing before him was pushing her head right against the muzzle of his gun, daring him to shoot if he could bear it.

Her eyes, visible beneath her hat, sparkled fiercely. The officer couldn’t even stand straight, let alone pull the trigger.

The surrounding crowd stood in a circle, bewildered, rolling their eyes helplessly, unsure what to do.

The mercenaries were just as flustered. At any moment, that mysterious woman confronting the Imperial Guard might get hurt.

‘If she’s merely wounded, that’d be fortunate enough…’

The worst-case scenario would be a hostage crisis. Eddie, the only one still able to move his eyes, scanned the surroundings frantically, ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice.

At that instant, Eddie spotted a familiar figure.

It was undoubtedly the pretty young man he’d met here before—what was his name again? Alan?

Alan also locked eyes with Eddie. Of all the times to reunite—right in the middle of this violent standoff. He was glad to see him but couldn’t show it under these circumstances.

In that moment, Eddie noticed the plate in Alan’s hand. Perhaps they were thinking the same thing. Their eyes met, and a single plan flowed silently between them.

Right now, while the strange woman in the hat was buying them time, was their perfect opportunity.

“What are you going to do?”

Ilyd remained standing, her forehead still pressed against the gun barrel. While the officer trembled and hesitated, someone shouted:

“Now!”

A white object arced through the air toward the officer’s gun hand. Simultaneously, Ilyd’s body was shoved sideways.

She expected to tumble helplessly onto the floor—but someone must have caught her, for she felt no significant impact.

Worried her face might be revealed, Ilyd pressed down firmly on her hat brim, blocking her view ahead.

With a dull thud, the gun clattered to the floor. The officer collapsed, clutching his hand, and Eddie seized the opening instantly.

“Got you, you rascal!”

The officer, subdued in an instant, thrashed a few times before falling silent.

Given that guns had been drawn, the other officers began exchanging wary glances, helping their fallen comrades rise.

Ilyd realized she was being held by someone. Judging by the smaller-than-expected frame, perhaps it was a woman? She lifted her hat brim slightly and glanced sideways.

“Are you all right? Any injuries…?”

The man carried an oddly intriguing air. At first glance, she’d mistaken him for a girl, but there was no doubt—he was unmistakably male. His common brown hair framed strikingly clear green eyes, which reminded her strongly of someone.

While Ilyd gathered her thoughts, Lynette approached with an almost tearful expression.

“Milady….”

“I’m fine. And thank you for your help. If it isn’t too much trouble, might I ask your name?”

“Alan. Everyone here calls me that.”

Alan gave Ilyd a quick wink and stood up. He’d come here hoping to enjoy a rare taste of freedom during the festival—never expecting to get caught up in such chaos.

One wrong move, and someone might have ended up seriously hurt. Alan let out a quiet sigh.

“Hey you—better than I thought, aren’t you?”

Eddie called out to Alan, holding a white plate in his hand—the very one Alan had carried minutes earlier.

“Wow… It survived this whole mess without breaking. Should we switch our houseware to this? Innkeeper, which company makes this plate?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, are there any more injured people?”

“Doesn’t seem so.”

“Great use of the plate, Innkeeper.”

Eddie handed the innkeeper the perfectly intact plate. His demeanor was so polite it was hard to believe he’d been fiercely subduing officers just moments before.

Watching this, the innkeeper chuckled and looked between Eddie and Alan.

“You two work together surprisingly well. Must be destiny.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Both Eddie and Alan glared sternly at the innkeeper. This was only the second time they’d seen each other since their first meeting. They might have understood each other quickly, but destiny? Hardly.

“You’re sharp enough to be useful, but you’re too scrawny for the mercenary company. You look like some pampered young master from a noble house.”

“And you think you’ve got a great build or something?”

“Why are we talking about bodies now? Don’t make me sad. Do you think I don’t want to grow? My life goal is to be as tall as our captain.”

Despite being called well-matched, the two immediately started bickering.

People around them began clearing away toppled chairs and tables, sweeping the floor. The commotion that had filled the tavern gradually settled.

“Lynette, let’s go back now.”

“Milady…”

Lynette’s voice trembled—perhaps from anger—as she called out to Ilyd. She tightly grasped Ilyd’s hands, speaking not as a maid, but as an old friend.

Trending

“Please… never risk your life like that again.”

Lynette lowered her head deeply. Soon, tears began dripping onto the back of Ilyd’s hand.

“…I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“If anything happened to you too, I’d truly be all alone.”

Ilyd gently wrapped her arms around Lynette’s shoulders. A soft fabric brushed Lynette’s cheek—it was the thin scarf Ilyd always wore.

That scarf concealed a scar on her neck. Every time Lynette saw it, waves of guilt crashed over her.

“Let’s go quickly. If we stay too long, we might run into the Imperial Guard.”

Word of the tavern disturbance must have spread—people now poured inside, creating a perfect crowd to slip through unnoticed.

Holding hands, Ilyd and Lynette slipped out of the tavern.

Across the room, Rivel’s gaze followed them. Recognizing that familiar silhouette and scent, he sifted through fragments of the past.

“Where did she go?”

“Pardon? Who are you referring to?”

“The woman who stood against the Imperial Guard in the tavern.”

“…People suddenly flooded in. She seems to have already left.”

Lailo, approaching Rivel, also scanned the crowd but found no trace. Though he prided himself on spotting individuals in crowds, this time he’d been mistaken.

Rivel heightened every sense, desperate to find the one he’d lost—but she was already gone.

Closing his eyes, he pulled up a fragment of memory: roses blooming in summer sunlight. If one crushed those petals along with their thorny vines, perhaps that’s what the scent would resemble—the raw, bruised fragrance felt as if it lingered right before him.

Longing ignited fiercely in Rivel’s blue eyes. Misinterpreting his captain’s gaze as concern, Eddie spoke up.

“She’ll be all right. Still, that was impressive—first time I’ve ever seen someone stand down an armed man like that.”

The Imperial Guard officers, thoroughly humiliated by the mercenaries, glared at them while subtly trying to slip away. Ruth, watching them closely, must have overheard something—he nudged Rivel.

“Ruth. What is it?”

“…They’re coming.”

Scarcely had Ruth finished his terse warning when a whistle pierced the air. The tavern door slammed open, and a group stormed in.

“Captain. This has gotten troublesome.”

Rivel’s brow furrowed deeply at Lailo’s words. They should have left immediately after causing and suppressing the disturbance—but now it was too late.

The newcomers, making a grand entrance with blaring horns, were the patrol squad that had responded to the report.

**

“Captain. Just one question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Was this also part of the plan? Or part of the mission?”

“Neither.”

Indeed. Getting caught by the patrol had never been part of Rivel’s plan.

Their task had been to “stir up an appropriate disturbance by entangling officers during the capital’s festival.” Was capture included? Absolutely not.

Though others protested during the arrest, the mercenaries themselves were cited as instigators, leaving them no choice but to be taken into custody. They now sat imprisoned behind iron bars—

alongside the very officers they’d just fought moments earlier.

Lailo clung to the bars and whispered toward a patrol soldier.

“Excuse me, everything else is fine, but we really don’t want to share a cell with those officers. Could you move us somewhere else?”

“Hey, we don’t want it either! Even breathing the same air feels disgusting!”

“Fine! I’ll stop your breathing altogether right now. Bring it on, you bastards!”

“Quiet down, all of you!”

An exasperated patrol soldier banged loudly on the bars to restore order. Lailo and one officer exchanged mutual middle fingers with matching scowls.

Rivel remained silent, leaning against the wall with closed eyes. Frustrated by his captain’s lack of reaction, Lailo sidled up beside him.

“Captain, just tell us there’s some grand strategy behind this mission. It’ll save us some embarrassment.”

“…Agreed.”

“See? Even Ruth—who never speaks—agrees! When was the last time he expressed an opinion? Ask any mercenary: has anyone ever gotten captured like this during a mission? Might as well be dead!”

“Just don’t actually die.”

Rivel, seated with one knee drawn up, murmured quietly. Lailo groaned and slapped his own forehead. What on earth was the captain thinking? He’d been unnervingly silent all this time.

Half-joking, half-resigned, Lailo kept chattering beside Rivel.

“What a disgrace! If Lord Turgel hears about this, he’ll clutch his chest, collapse, and only wake up three days later.”

“And then?”

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“He’ll come roaring after us with an axe, claiming the Licas Mercenary Company has brought shame upon itself.”

Despite the commotion among his men, Rivel remained silent. He turned his head slightly to watch the officers outside.

The officers, already undergoing interrogation, were loudly protesting to the patrolmen.

“Just look at my face! We were only beaten one-sidedly! Who’s the uncivilized brute here? Those guys just swung their fists without warning!”

“You’ve got some nerve! That ‘barbarian’ label fits you lot better. Who was grabbing the server’s wrist and forcing them onto your lap to pour drinks, huh?”

“Even so, did you have to beat us this badly? What about my face!”

“We deliberately aimed only at your faces.”

Rivel finally spoke. His tone was serious—clearly not joking.

“In combat, only the body matters—faces are unnecessary. Since you’re valuable military assets of the Empire, we intentionally avoided harming your bodies.”

“Now that’s our captain—always thoughtful.”

“…Agreed.”

“Exactly! How is this our fault? Besides, you were ugly even before we hit you.”

The Imperial Guard officers’ faces twisted further. Already upset about being beaten, now their appearances were mocked too.

Lailo dramatically grabbed Rivel’s chin and turned his face toward the outside—his trump card. Even through the iron bars, the captain’s handsome features shone brilliantly in Lailo’s hand.

“Go ahead—ask anyone passing by: who’s handsomer, our captain or you?”

“Lailo. Put your hand down.”

Rivel, unimpressed at being used as comparison material, muttered flatly. The enraged officers roared back, insisting there was nothing handsome about him.

The patrol soldier, fed up with this childish squabble, slammed his desk—but the officers ignored him, stubbornly holding their ground.

“Quite the commotion you’ve stirred up.”

“Huh? Alan? What are you doing here…?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I came to help.”

Alan waved cheerfully through the bars toward Eddie and the mercenaries. His expression brimmed with confidence, as if he held a winning card.

Someone peered out from behind him—the very server who’d had his wrist grabbed by the officers in the tavern.

“You’ve all done well. I’ve brought a witness.”

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