MTO C62

Chapter 62

Kaidan’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. He seemed to weigh the matter in silence—then, before long, he gave a small nod.

“Now I see why. But what happened then will not happen again.”

“How can you be sure?”

“David still repents that day. He’s overturning every forest in Valois to find and root out any trace of monsters. Even if not David, escorts will shadow you wherever you go—each one highly capable. Most of all, there will be no reason for you to visit dangerous places.”

“That’s not certain. The orphanage used to be ‘safe,’ remember? And the guards you assign—when danger hits, they’ll save me first, not the children. Same for you. Isn’t that true?”

Michel’s fierce retort left Kaidan without answer—because it struck home. Michel pressed the advantage.

“It’s not me who needs protection. It’s the children. And that job is mine.”

He tapped his chest twice with a clenched fist. Kaidan raked a hand through his hair, looking genuinely vexed.

“Even so, not the knight corps.”

“Why—!”

“I’ll teach you basic swordwork myself.”

The offer was so unexpected Michel’s eyes went round.

“You will?”

“Yes. So stop prowling around the knights.”

He looked ready to drop to his knees if that would keep the Saint he himself had elevated from rolling in the dirt with soldiers. If necessary, he’d poke out his own eyes before watching it happen—whose eyes, remained to be seen.

For Michel, it was perfect: lessons from a Sword Master himself. Who would refuse? Perhaps one day Michel would even touch sword‑aura.

“Deal. I’ll be in your care.”

Smiling, he thrust out a hand. Kaidan sighed, reluctant—but took it.

The very next day, lessons began.

After a light lunch, Michel headed to the training yard. It coincided with the children’s nap time—relatively freer, though not all actually slept.

“Master(Sabomnim)!”

Michel bowed with comic solemnity as Kaidan entered. The Duke wore lighter gear today—single‑layer leather, a sword at his hip. Without formal uniform, he looked five years younger.

…How old is he, anyway?

Before Michel could ask, Kaidan’s brow creased, aging him those years back.

“Why bring the child?”

He jerked his chin at Heart, standing sullenly at Michel’s side, as ill‑tempered as the Duke himself. Michel had dragged him out of his room with little explanation; the boy was not pleased. Only Michel smiled, gripping his shoulder.

“Heart will learn with me.”

“What?”

Both turned to him at once. A shiver of delight ran through Michel.

They already look like father and son.

The first introduction had gone badly, but Michel had not abandoned hope of bringing them closer. With everyone lodged at Eglence, there would be ample chance. A one‑on‑one sword lesson with Kaidan? Unmissable. If Heart showed talent, Kaidan would naturally take interest—just like in the original story.

Michel nudged the bewildered boy to stand before him.

“You’ve met once, but let me do it properly. Brother, this is Heart. Heart, this is the Duke of Eglence. Greet him.”

Neither greeted. Both only stared at Michel, faces pinched as if they’d bitten sour fruit.

“What is this stunt?”

“I don’t recall consenting to teach a child.”

Their voices held an edge. Michel refused to yield, tousling Heart’s hair as he answered Kaidan:

“After we parted yesterday, I realized Heart should learn too. He’s very interested in swords.”

“I am?”

“You keep stealing kitchen knives. Wasn’t that because you wanted to learn?”

Heart had no answer. Michel flashed bright eyes at Kaidan; the Duke twitched, then nodded—fine, do as you like. Michel gave a small cheer.

“Where do we start, Master?”

“…Basic defenses.”

He told Michel to extend one arm. When he did, Kaidan gripped his wrist—without hurting.

“Now, break free.”

Michel did so at once.

“And then?”

“…?”

Kaidan glanced between his own hand and Michel’s, scowled, and seized the wrist again—harder.

“Again.”

Michel repeated the same motion: grasping his trapped wrist with the free hand and lifting upward, he slipped the grip with ease. Kaidan flexed his empty hand, opening and closing.

“…Not bad.”

“What next?”

After a pause, Kaidan turned Michel around and hooked an arm around his neck from behind.

“Escape, again.”

Only then did Michel realize: this was self‑defense. Freeing the wrist had been that, too.

When does the swordwork begin?

For Michel, self‑defense was muscle memory—techniques he could perform half asleep. He’d even taught the orphans a class recently.

Heart hadn’t been there. Their relationship had been raw then. Thinking of that, Michel looked at the boy, still standing with bored impatience.

“Watch, Heart. If someone grabs you from behind, don’t flail. First, take the arm and drop your weight, then…”

He seized Kaidan’s arm, turned his body half a circle—momentum did the rest. The larger man toppled forward.

Thud!

“Turning sideways like that lets you slip out. Easy, right?”

Pride warmed him at the shock on Heart’s face. Flashy escapes hooked children’s attention. It helped that the partner knew how to fall—

As he dipped, Michel had felt Kaidan deliberately unweight his feet. Easy to throw, then.

Michel released the arm. Yet Kaidan did not rise. Lying flat, he stared at the sky with a grave face. Only then did Michel break a sweat—he had just slammed a Duke into the ground.

“Er—Brother, are you okay?”

“David tells me you practice some nameless art.”

Kaidan spoke without looking at him. Michel squatted, brushing dirt from his shoulder.

“Taekwondo.”

“What?”

“Taekwondo. Not nameless.”

Kaidan’s eyes narrowed to slits, serpent‑like.

“Where did you learn it?”

“…Long story. Let’s keep going?”

He waved it away and offered a hand, but Kaidan stood on his own. Curious as he was, he resumed the lesson. They ran through several more self‑defense techniques—some slightly different, but essentially the same. Before long, Kaidan and Michel demonstrated while Heart mimicked.

Grumbling at first, the boy soon followed with interest; action came naturally to him, as befit a protagonist.

“But these are all for fighting humans. What about monsters?”

Only after the lesson had warmed up did Michel slip the question in. He enjoyed the back‑and‑forth, the teaching with Heart—but his goal lay elsewhere.

“If you meet a monster—run.”

The answer was not what he’d hoped for. Michel didn’t argue.

“Well… that is the best way.”

He had no intention of hunting monsters through the woods. Ideally, he would never see another in his life. He was a nursery head in a saint’s robe, not a hero.

But accidents come uninvited—as when he and Heart stumbled upon a naga.

“Show your back and a monster will attack.”

Heart cut in sharply. The boy’s eyes had hardened during practice. Michel shivered, recalling him hurling stones at the naga.

“True,” Kaidan agreed, unexpectedly.

“If you can flee without drawing its eye, good. If it has found you, never show your back.”

“Then what do we do?”

Michel asked this time.

“Force an opening to escape—or fight.”

Kaidan drew a wooden practice sword from a crate and handed it over. At last, swordwork.