MTO C6

Chapter 6

“From today, I will serve as the Saint’s escort. My name is David Roman. It is an honor to attend you, my lord.”

At early dawn, Kaidan’s adjutant knocked on Jeong-oh’s chamber door.

David was the same man who, the previous night, had stood behind Kaidan giving him looks of barely concealed disbelief. He had a head of curly red hair, sharp green eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his face that, matched with his ever-present smile, lent him a mischievous, almost boyish air.

“A carriage awaits outside the fortress. Let us depart.”

“What about Kaidan?”

“The Duke is overseeing repair work on the fortress walls today. Do you have any messages you would like me to convey to him?”

Jeong-oh shook his head, though inwardly he sighed with disappointment. Since arriving in this world, he had grown accustomed to seeing Kaidan’s face every day. Not being able to greet him even once before leaving was lonelier than he expected.

“Oh, and I nearly forgot—here are the Duke’s instructions.”

David passed him a parchment, rolled tightly. Unfurling it on the spot, Jeong-oh found not so much a letter as a brusque note:

He knows all. Command him as you will.

—Kaidan Eglence

Jeong-oh read it several times over, then glanced at David.

“What does he mean, ‘knows all’…?”

With a grin, David tapped his temple with a finger. He too, like Kaidan, assumed Michel had simply lost his memories due to a tragic accident. For Jeong-oh, that misunderstanding made pretending far easier.

So, he matched David’s smile.

“I’ll be in your care, David.”

David led Jeong-oh out through the gates. For the first time, Jeong-oh laid eyes on the world outside.

He craned his neck along the colossal grey battlements, and beyond them saw towering spires piercing into a blindingly clear sky. From so close, the sheer grandeur of the fortress could not even be captured in a single gaze.

“Wooooow.”

His breath puffed white in the morning chill, paired with an awestruck exclamation. Having never once traveled abroad before death, every vista struck him with wonder. Like this—he had to die to finally go sightseeing in Europe? …Or no, this wasn’t Europe at all.

“Saint?”

“Ah! Yes!”

Startled, Jeong-oh hurried down the fortress steps. David held the carriage door open, an old-worldly courtesy that felt awkward receiving as a grown man. Yet the moment he stepped inside, the discomfort was swept away by distraction—the interior was like a film set depicting medieval grandeur.

As David shut the door and sat opposite him, the carriage lurched into motion. Jeong-oh pressed excitedly against the frosted glass.

The massive gates swung open, the heavy drawbridge lowered with a thunderous groan, and soon they were rattling across the moat, speeding toward the dark forest.

Looking back, Jeong-oh beheld Eglence Fortress receding into distance. Snow, swept by blizzards overnight, lay heaped atop the spires. Compared to the jewel-toned palaces in fairy-tale books, the fortress was bleak, austere—but somehow its starkness fit the chill winter scene beautifully.

He was still gazing when he felt eyes on him. Turning, he found David watching him directly. When David gave a genial smile, Jeong-oh laughed awkwardly in return. How embarrassing, ignoring his companion to stare outside like a small child.

“How long will it take to reach the orphanage?”

“By carriage, we will not arrive until past the sun’s zenith.”

Longer than expected. Settling back, Jeong-oh steeled for the journey.

“And once back at the orphanage, what do you intend? You must still conceal your memory loss.”

David’s curious question was one Jeong-oh had already mulled upon half the night.

“I’ll say I caught laryngitis.”

“Laryngitis?”

“Right. If I say I lost my voice to a sore throat, then no one will question me staying quiet. That gives me a few days of silence to study everyone and get a feel for things.”

He had spent a childhood where reading the room was a matter of survival; he prided himself on the ability. Two days, perhaps three, and he would have pieced together the orphanage’s dynamics and Michel’s relationships.

Seeking affirmation, Jeong-oh raised his brows at David.

“That is… indeed rather convincing.”

“Right? It hurt my head, thinking that through, since I’m not usually the brainy type. By the way, David, have you ever been to the orphanage before?”

“…No. This will be my first time.”

David averted his eyes sidelong, though Jeong-oh, oblivious, missed the subtle flicker.

“Perfect. Then you can ask the children their names for me!”

“Their names?”

“Yes. It’ll be weird if I ask them—it’d feel unnatural. But if you ask, it’ll be fine. Could you?”

David remained silent, wearing a faintly reluctant expression.

…What, does he not like kids?

Jeong-oh couldn’t understand why what he thought a simple favor seemed difficult. Yet before long, David’s eyes rounded with a smile.

“Of course. If it aids the Saint, I shall oblige.”

“Great.”

That solved the hardest part. He had briefly considered looking for an attendance ledger—but in a world that used quills instead of pens and kept records without photos, such a list with portraits surely didn’t exist. Asking each child directly was too suspicious; children noticed changes in people quicker than adults. Deceiving them would be the hardest task of all.

While they chatted, the carriage sped through the dark forest and eventually out the other side.

In that moment, a shaft of morning light struck the golden button clasping David’s mantle. By reflex, Jeong-oh’s eyes followed—and stayed fixed.

The button bore the engraving of a spread-winged eagle.

“What is it?”

Sensing his gaze, David inquired.

“That button—it has an eagle on it.”

Jeong-oh answered, still staring. Something about the emblem nagged at his memory.

“More precisely, the black eagle. It is the mark of House Eglence. Only knights of the Eglence Order are awarded this clasp.”

Like Owen the guard, David’s voice brimmed with pride. Jeong-oh’s curiosity flared. The existence of actual knights here was novelty enough—but a knightly order! His inner child could not resist.

“Is it hard to get into the Eglence Order?”

“There is an old saying: ‘The archmage is born in the South, the hero in the North.’ The northern regions of Formené are where the Dragon’s Spine lies, and thus beasts often appear. Harsh lands, yes, but they forge strong knights from earliest youth. Amongst them, the knights who swear fealty to the Duke of Eglence form the greatest order the North has to offer.”

“…Beasts?”

Did he mean monsters, like in fantasy comics? And Dragon’s Spine—was that actually a dragon?

Jeong-oh’s jaw dropped. All this talk of magi and monsters sounded utterly fantastical.

“You need not fear. The orphanage lies on the edges of the city, but the forests nearby are patrolled regularly by the Order. Mercenaries seeking bounties roam the land as well, so monsters no longer reach the villages. With the Duke himself ruling Valois, this territory is among the safest on the Three Continents.”

David clearly mistook his stunned silence for fear. Jeong-oh, finding no need to correct him, instead latched onto David’s final remark. A giant, impenetrable Kaidan popped into his brain.

“Kaidan’s… that strong?”

“Surely you jest.”

David’s sigh was faintly exasperated. His devotion to Kaidan was evident, almost reverent.

“His Grace took to the battlefield at the age of fourteen. Without him, the Kingdom would now be a wasteland.”

“Fourteen?!”

Jeong-oh had never seen Kaidan fight, so he could not imagine his skill. But fourteen—that was astonishing in itself.

In Korea, fourteen was the age of starting middle school. At that age, Jeong-oh had been sneaking naps in class and training Taekwondo at the dojang. Intense, yes, but peaceful compared to war. The thought of a boy wielding sword and shield in actual battle—unimaginable.

A fourteen-year-old going to war? That’s like a special forces soldier starting in middle school.

Suddenly his eyes widened.

“Oh!”

“What is it?”

“N-no, nothing.”

He waved rapidly in dismissal, yet his eyes remained fixed on the insignia button. Finally, the memory clicked.

It looked almost identical to the emblem of the Republic of Korea Army Special Warfare Command—the Eagle Unit.¹

With the recognition, his chest eased. As in Korea, an eagle had come to symbolize strength and vigilance.

As Jeong-oh chuckled to himself in secret relief, David tilted his head, bemused.

The carriage jolted atop rough cobblestones, rattling onward.

Footnotes:

1. Eagle Unit (독수리 부대) – Within the Republic of Korea Special Warfare Command (ROKA-SWC), the eagle emblem is a recognizable military mark. Jeong-oh, as a Korean, instantly associated the Eglence Order’s eagle symbol with this insignia. This emphasizes the isekai dissonance: Michel’s modern Korean references are invisible to others.