Chapter 7. Proof of Strength (1)

Assigned a private room, I sat astride the bed.

Despite the stuffiness, the feeling of sinking in was comfortable, and even though this world was different from the medieval times I knew, I found it comfortable in this aspect.

If it were a regular medieval inn, the bed would be less soft and probably filled with straw underneath.

'At least this is the modern era, so there shouldn't be much inconvenience in living here.'

Of course, that's compared to the medieval times; to me, who had lived in the present day, this place was equally inconvenient.

A world without computers, the internet, or smartphones.

I can no longer enjoy the games I used to play.

'No, this is a game world, isn't it?'

The thought made me laugh in spite of myself.

'I like playing life games, but I didn't wish for life to become a game.'

I sighed inwardly and then examined the mirror set up in one corner of the room.

Beyond the mirror, a handsome man with black hair gazed back at me.

His skin was pale, and his dark, sunken eyes were filled with melancholy. Even when he stood still without a care, it gave the illusion that he was deeply lost in thought.

His body was not bulky but slender and well-proportioned.

If someone who didn't know me saw him, they would probably think he was the son of a noble family.

Despite the sense of unfamiliarity, this familiar appearance was the form of the wandering knight I now possessed.

To be precise, it was the character customization I created when playing the game.

Because it incorporated my personal preferences, the wandering knight was made to look quite handsome rather than dull and stubborn.

Personally, I didn't like playing games with unattractive characters.

'Looking at this, I'm glad I did a good job with the character customization.'

This game had a high degree of freedom in character customization when creating a character.

You could choose the basic gender, alter the skin color and facial features to create all sorts of bizarre forms.

It was also possible to have a muscular build, make yourself shorter, or even look like an old person.

'...If I had gone for a weird customization to stand out, it would have been a disaster.'

People often called "old-timers" in games are known for customizing their characters in strange ways out of boredom.

They wear rags and make their faces look like monsters, and their skin color is often pink or purple.

I had considered doing something like that, but in the end, I maintained a handsome and cool appearance out of affection for my character.

Although I didn't do it with the intention of ending up like this, looking back, it was really fortunate.

With such a good-looking appearance, I wouldn't be despised wherever I go.

'Still, the job is a bit disappointing.'

If I had known this would happen, I would have raised a mage instead of a knight.

The game's difficulty was so high that mages, who had low health in the early stages, would die off before they could do anything.

Even if they shone in the later stages, it would be meaningless if they couldn't survive the early stages.

That's why I chose the most stable option, the knight.

'No, it's fine. Who could have known this would happen?'

Thinking positively, being a wandering knight wasn't bad.

In this era, most people carry guns, but the superior physical abilities are still the exclusive domain of knights.

'Besides, it's not like I'm a black mage or a beggar by birth.'

If I were a black mage, I would have been branded a criminal from the start and had to run away. If I were a beggar, I would be moving around in just my underwear and with bare hands instead of with armor and a sword.

'The important thing is how I will live in this world from now on.'

My mind is that of a modern person.

My body is that of a medieval knight.

And the world I live in is the modern era.

I felt like I was a twisted hybrid of all these different time periods.

Most importantly, I realized that adapting to this body was my top priority.

There was a sense of disconnection between what I thought in my head and what I actually said out loud, to the point where I was surprised by my own words.

I knew this was a characteristic of being a wandering knight, but I didn't want to be swayed by it for the rest of my life.

The one fortunate thing was that I wasn't completely inflexible.

For example, when I looted the wallets from the bodies of the guys who shot at me, my body didn't have a strong aversion to it.

'Or maybe it's because knights in medieval times were known for being nationwide thugs.'

Muttering to myself, I immediately took off my armor and lay down on the bed.

I had a gut feeling that my future life would be quite tough, but for now, I wanted to forget everything and get a good night's sleep.

*

The next morning.

In the first-floor restaurant of a tavern known for being empty in the morning, there were quite a few people.

More than half of them were mercenaries who had drunk at the tavern the previous night.

"Hasn't he come out yet?"

"Wait a bit. He'll come down soon."

Some of the mercenaries, who had been chatting among themselves, cast their gaze toward one corner of the table.

There, Ronan Roland sat, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a sense of anxiety.

Wearing a clean, wrinkle-free suit and known for his squinted eyes, he was uncharacteristically crossing his arms and tapping his fingers on his forearm.

Ronan couldn't help but feel frustrated.

The skill he had seen in Ossian was real.

If he discovered such a person first and then lost him to another agent, he would lose sleep for at least a year.

So, Ronan needed to recruit him with the best conditions right away.

However, approaching too hastily had its own problems.

When he offered good conditions to Ossian last night, Ossian didn't accept them easily. He even seemed to be wary of him.

So, this time, Ronan planned to be as careful and polite as possible to avoid offending him.

Being polite was his forte.

At that moment, the sound of metal clinking together was heard.

Simultaneously, the gazes of the people gathered in the first-floor restaurant turned to the stairs leading to the second floor.

Only one person could make such a distinctive sound.

As if to meet everyone's expectations, Ossian, in his armor, appeared on the first floor.

Those who had come to see him based on rumors and the time difference were inwardly impressed by his appearance.

They had expected him to be a delusional knight, broad-shouldered and muscular, but he looked like a young nobleman.

However, no one dared to provoke or approach him rashly.

The tension in the room increased as people who had witnessed Ossian's prowess the previous night saw him enter.

The atmosphere naturally became tense.

The only one who seemed unaffected by this was Ossian.

He naturally took a seat at an empty table and was about to order food.

At that moment, Ronan moved.

Ronan, who had been waiting here since early morning, approached Ossian with as natural a gait as possible.

"Good morning, Mr. Ossian."

"Oh, right. You're Ronan, right?"

"You remember my name."

"Well, you made quite an impression."

He didn't need to say that people with squinted eyes were rare.

Ronan was pleased.

The fact that Ossian remembered him meant that he hadn't made a bad impression.

However, his poker face didn't show it.

"May I join you?"

"Only if you buy me a drink again."

"Really? In the morning?"

"Just a joke."

"Ha ha, I see."

Ronan smiled in relief and naturally took a seat.

However, he didn't act rashly. He knew that if he let his guard down, all his efforts could be in vain.

So, he planned to be as careful as possible.

He intended to make a good offer without offending him.

"By the way, Ronan."

"Yes, Mr. Ossian."

"Are those people over there your colleagues?"

"Huh?"

Ronan turned his gaze to the tavern's entrance.

The door, which had been broken in the fight the previous day, had not yet been repaired. Through the broken door, morning sunlight streamed in, and people were walking in.

There were three of them, each with distinct personalities.

One was a young woman in a dress with brown hair. She wore a white fur collar and looked both in her twenties and in her forties.

Another was an elderly gentleman with gray hair, dressed neatly.

The old man wore a frock coat, had a frameless glasses on his face, and held a cane in one hand. Everything about him looked expensive.

The last one was a free-spirited man.

He wore tight leather pants and a white shirt, had piercings in his ears and lips, and his hair was a fluorescent blue, as if it had been dyed.

His chest, left open, showed well-defined muscles.

Ronan's expression stiffened slightly upon recognizing them.

They were headhunters, like Ronan, and had been in competition with each other for a long time, often poaching each other's clients.

"They don't seem to be invited guests."

Ossian said this in response to Ronan's subtle reaction.

The first to speak to Ossian as they approached was the young woman.

"Nice to meet you. Are you the righteous knight who appeared last night?"

"I might be a knight, but I'm not sure about the 'righteous' part."

"Right. I'm Isabella Ross. I'm a well-known agent in the industry."

"I see. So, the other two are also agents."

Isabella's statement prompted the old man and the young man to introduce themselves.

"Hehe, nice to meet you. I'm Osborn Russell."

"I'm Jake Hudson. Nice to meet you, man."

Jake, who introduced himself, pulled a chair over and sat near Ossian without permission.

Ronan glared at him with narrowed eyes, but Jake ignored it.

It was as if Ronan wasn't even there.

"Wow, you really wear armor and carry a sword. I've heard about you."

" Heard about me?"

"Last night, right? You wiped out a gang with just a sword. How did you do it?"

"There's no 'how.' I just swung my sword."

"Can you prove that?"

Ossian's eyebrow twitched at Jake's words.

Ronan looked uncomfortable, while Osborn and Isabella remained neutral.

Jake Hudson was a rapidly rising agent who had gained significant influence recently.

It was said that he had the backing of a large mafia-like criminal organization.

His rise was so rapid that it was blinding.

Perhaps because of his excessive success, Jake was a person who lacked manners.

Some saw his lack of pretense as a positive trait, but to those who had established themselves in the industry, his behavior was overly aggressive.

And it was the same now.

To question the abilities of someone he was trying to recruit was a statement that could only be made if he was looking for a fight.

Ronan observed Ossian's reaction.

From what he had seen last night, Ossian was not the type to avoid trouble or fights.

"Prove it?"

Ossian's expression remained unchanged.

He didn't get angry, nor did he laugh it off.

He just maintained his usual poker face, but his eyes became even sharper as he stared at Jake.

"That's an interesting question. Why should I?"