Chapter 0: Prologue

 

It was a crude stone path.

 

Those dressed in black mourning clothes carry a single wooden coffin on their shoulders.

 

“They’re coming.”

 

They were the ones who survived and returned at the tail end of a storm called war.

 

Their expressions, pressed upon by the heavy wind, were haggard.

 

Within the coffin they bear lies a great swordswoman who fought against the transcendent invaders.

 

Yet, despite this glorious return, no one but me came out to welcome them.

 

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have either.

 

But this time was different.

 

Because the woman inside that coffin was my wife.

 

“…….”

 

I stand there in silence to greet them.

 

They too lower their heads slightly in acknowledgment when they see me.

 

“We greet Mukgeom.”

 

Mukgeom—a title meaning ‘one who wields a sword through writing.’

 

“Thanks to you, I have learned so much.”

 

“The books you wrote were a great help to the soldiers on the front lines.”

 

“Hearing such words from knights like you is somewhat embarrassing.”

 

I force a bitter smile.

 

All I could do, unable to wield a sword, was come up with theories and put them into writing.

 

“Set her down here.”

 

With a bitter smile, I speak to those heading toward the small castle behind me.

 

“There’s no one to welcome you inside, so even if you enter, you won’t see anything pleasant.”

 

At my words, they nod with a look of resentment and carefully lower the coffin.

 

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

 

“…….”

 

There was no response.

 

But I don’t find it strange.

 

“Indeed, who among us has any place left to return to?”

 

“I wish you peace.”

 

They bow to me and then depart.

 

Most likely, we’ll never meet again.

 

I can only be grateful for this final act of loyalty in bringing the coffin here.

 

I had prepared a resting place in advance—a small clearing near the castle.

 

Distance-wise, it wasn’t far, but it took as long as the sun to set and rise again.

 

“My apologies. As you know, I can’t use one of my legs.”

 

Leaning on my cane, I move the coffin along, taking far longer than expected.

 

I bring it right beside the hole I had pre-dug.

 

Beads of sweat roll down my cheeks, shimmering like pearls in the sunrise.

 

One of them clings to my jawline and drips onto the coffin. I let out a quiet chuckle and gently run my hand over the coffin’s surface.

 

“It seems the most precious jewel I can give you is this.”

 

Creeeeak.

 

I slowly open the coffin.

 

Inside, artificially arranged roses serve as decorations.

 

Cradled in their embrace, a lovely woman, hands neatly folded, rests with her eyes closed.

 

Rihanna Helmut.

 

The eldest daughter of the illustrious Helmut family.

 

A remarkable swordswoman who vanquished countless evildoers and slaughtered transcendents.

 

The woman I truly loved.

 

My wife.

 

“It’s been a full ten years, yet you remain as beautiful as ever.”

 

I laugh in hollow disbelief.

 

They say she was gone a long time, out on the battlefield, but she looks as if she’s just returned from a grand ball.

 

The scent of roses fills the air—perhaps her body was treated magically after death.

 

“I imagined I’d have so much I wanted to say once we met again, and yet, seeing you now, I have nothing.”

 

Even with her corpse before me, I feel awkward. I lift my gaze and stare blankly at the sunrise.

 

“Were you curious why I ran away?”

 

We were married for five years.

 

At the end of those five years, I chose to flee.

 

The reason was simple.

 

Born a commoner, I was tormented by the Helmut family members, and Rihanna Helmut, as if disappointed in me, chose to stand aside.

 

“I resented you greatly. Did you resent me as well?”

 

Even now, ten years later, meeting like this…

 

“Or perhaps you laughed with relief?”

 

In the end, what we have here cannot be called a proper reunion.

 

“There’s nothing more pointless than questions without answers.”

 

If I had to pick the thing I was most curious about—

 

“Were you—”

 

Until your very last breath, swinging that massive greatsword…

 

Even as you exhaled your final breath—

 

“—a great Helmut to the very end?”

 

A woman who lived solely for Helmut.

 

A cruel woman who abandoned her husband for that name.

 

“Ha, haha.”

 

A hollow laugh slips out.

 

Our relationship was long over.

 

I feel as if I’m finally putting a period at the end of it all.

 

“In this moment, you would have laughed too, wouldn’t you?”

 

A farewell to the woman who once smiled as beautifully as a rose.

 

Since she must have long shaken off all lingering feelings, I wanted to put a final mark on what we had.

 

“Farewell, then.”

 

As I unfold her clasped hands and hold them gently, I sense something strange.

 

Between her hardened calluses—those formed from decades of gripping a sword—is a single, humble ring.

 

It sits on the ring finger of her left hand.

 

A ring so shabby that, when I gave it to her—having spent my entire fortune—it was mocked as cheap.

 

Our only wedding ring.

 

The moment I see that the ring still adorns Rihanna Helmut’s left ring finger—

 

“…….”

 

Words fail me. I can only stare blankly down at it.

 

“You…”

 

My voice comes out mixed with a sigh as I manage a bitter smile.

 

“You continue to confound me, even now.”

 

****

 

“Hmm?”

 

Each morning, my right leg would throb, but today it’s perfectly fine.

 

No matter how I fumble around, I can’t find the cane that should be beside my bed.

 

My body, which had started creaking in my late thirties, moves smoothly now as if it’s been freshly oiled.

 

“Where…is this?”

 

It’s my room.

 

Specifically, the room I used ten years ago at Helmut

 

Of course, my wife and I had separate bedrooms, and I ended up using the guest room.

 

Back then, it hurt my feelings a bit. It felt as though they were drawing a line, saying I wasn’t truly part of the family.

 

I look into the mirror in the room.

 

It’s Isaac.

 

Myself, ten years younger.

 

Smooth skin, neatly groomed black hair.

 

I often heard people call me handsome.

 

And my leg is fine.

 

The disability I’d lived with for ten long years is gone.

 

“Is this a dream?”

 

It feels like a dream, indeed.

 

Even more unbelievable is that I seem to have returned to Helmut in the past.

 

Clank, creaaak.

 

“Brother-in-law!?”

 

At that moment, someone enters the room.

 

A man with red hair and sharp features—the hallmark of Helmut—and an impressively tall stature.

This is Alois Helmut, the third son of Helmut.

 

“Alois Helmut?”

 

Just as I remember him.

 

He was almost the only one in Helmut who was kind to me.

 

“What are you doing? My sister’s been waiting for you!”

 

“Your sister, Rihanna Helmut?”

 

“What’s gotten into you today? You worked so hard with me yesterday to prepare for the wedding anniversary!”

 

Wedding anniversary?

 

I prepared something with Alois Helmut?

 

Familiar words line up, forming a sentence naturally in my mind.

 

‘Fourth Wedding Anniversary?’

 

At this point, there was only one year left before I fled from Helmut.

 

“Since I helped you out this time, she’ll definitely be happy for sure. You’ve really worked hard, Brother-in-law.”

 

Yes, that was true.

 

I glanced at Alois and let out a hollow laugh.

 

The final attempt to restore a marriage gone awry.

 

And also.

 

‘The trap that dragged me even deeper into ruin.’

 

From this day onward, not Rihanna, who had once been his wife, nor anyone else in Helmut, would have any expectations of Isaac.

 

‘The day my leg was ruined in that accident.’

 

Because of that incident, I became a man who could no longer wield a sword, earning myself the nickname “Blunt Blade.”

 

And.

 

Now, the very person who took my leg—

 

“Haa! Brother-in-law! Pleeease! Hurry up! If we keep this up, Sister is going to get really, really angry!”

 

—is rushing me along.