“At the very least, Ian von Schrantz—that man must be dealt with decisively.”
Even so, punishment would be unavoidable.
‘I may have to sacrifice an arm or a leg. I might be dishonorably discharged.’
But at least death could be avoided.
It wasn’t death he feared. There was only one thing that truly terrified him.
‘I can’t die yet—not for Jenny’s sake.’
He was prepared to die for his nation, for his lord, at any moment.
But he couldn’t die until he saw his daughter properly married, settled into a family of her own.
His late wife, who had passed from illness years ago, had made him promise—“Take care of our daughter until she builds a home of her own.”
‘By the way… why the hell have they kept me locked up like this?’
Another question that had nagged at him for days.
Ian hadn’t come to see him since that first interrogation.
At first, he assumed Ian had delegated further questioning to subordinates.
But what puzzled him was that no interrogation had followed.
He’d been left blindfolded, bound hand and foot, under constant guard—and that was it.
He’d expected more attempts to extract information, more pressure to talk.
Yet for days, nothing.
Torture wasn’t pleasant, even with resistance training.
But this deliberate inaction? It made no sense. He couldn’t grasp Ian’s intentions.
‘Even if he got all the information he wanted, leaving me alive like this is strange.’
Captured spies were as good as dead.
Once their intel was extracted, they were disposed of—one way or another.
And what confused him even more—
‘Why is it so quiet today?’
There had always been the presence of watchers nearby.
Today, he sensed nothing.
‘Come to think of it, no meals since morning.’
They’d been feeding him twice a day.
He didn’t know the exact time, but it felt long past evening.
“To think the great Tyler ended up captured like this. You live long enough, you see everything.”
The voice from beside him sent a chill down his spine.
‘Someone was watching me—without me sensing them?’
Was there really someone in this territory skilled enough to evade his detection?
And yet… the voice was eerily familiar.
“What, you don’t recognize me? It’s me.”
“Wait. This voice… Denil?”
“Glad you remember. Or did my voice change over the years?”
“Am I hallucinating? Or is this the enemy’s magic messing with my head?”
Denil had been one of the twenty recruits who joined the Shadow Corps alongside Tyler.
Among them, he’d been the second most promising—right after Tyler himself.
And the only one of their group to survive.
But he’d lost an eye in a mission gone wrong, forcing him into retirement.
“I’ll take off the blindfold and restraints. Hold still.”
The blindfold was removed, the bindings loosened.
For the first time in days, his body was free.
“There. Now you can see—”
Slap!—Slap!—
Tyler suddenly struck his own cheeks hard with his palms.
The force left his skin red and swollen.
A method to break hallucination magic—self-inflicted pain to shatter illusions.
He had to be sure the Denil before him wasn’t an enemy’s trick.
“…Still as cautious as ever, huh? Not a hallucination, not enemy magic. Convinced now? Doubting me any further would be rude.”
“You’ve got wrinkles, but it’s definitely Denil’s face.”
“Time does that. And here I thought you’d at least compliment my handsome face after so long. All I get is ‘you’ve aged’?”
“The fact you still think you’re handsome proves you’re not a fake.”
“Tch. Should’ve just pretended not to know you.”
Not a hallucination. Not an illusion.
Which made it all the more confusing.
“Denil… why is a retired man like you here?”
“Heard you got captured. Came to break you out.”
“You came… to rescue me?”
“You saved me back then, didn’t you? I’m repaying the debt. If not for you, I’d have lost more than just an eye.”
“Ah… right. That did happen.”
The day Denil lost his eye, Tyler had been returning from another mission nearby.
He’d spotted Denil in danger—and intervened.
“But we don’t have time for nostalgia. We’ve got a mission to finish, don’t we?”
“Wait, Denil. Something’s off. The guards watching me—they’re gone. This could be a trap.”
“Tyler, what was my specialty again?”
“…Poisons?”
“Good memory. I slipped a sleeping agent into the guards. They’re all dreaming right now.”
If it wasn’t a trap—if Denil had truly knocked them out—then it made sense.
“Right, then let’s get out of—”
At that moment, Tyler collapsed.
His body went numb. Strength drained from his limbs.
And an overwhelming sleepiness crashed over him.
‘When did he—?’
No, more importantly—
“Why…?”
This was a paralytic.
The creeping sleepiness suggested a sleeping agent mixed in.
Even with his resistance, he’d been poisoned.
There was only one person who could bypass his immunity like this.
“Denil… why?”
Denil—the man hailed as a genius of toxins, even by their superiors.
“‘Why?’ you ask?”
Denil curled one corner of his lips upward.
The friendly demeanor he’d shown moments earlier had completely vanished.
“A commoner like you, forgetting his place and barking orders at me while playing captain—it always pissed me off.”
The Shadow Corps recruited regardless of social status, and within its ranks, birthright meant nothing.
It was a place where only skill mattered.
Where the hierarchy of nobility held no power.
Where even royal blood meant nothing if you lacked the ability.
“For just that reason…?!”
“Ah, of course, that’s not the only reason.” Denil’s smile turned razor-sharp. “Truth is, my mission was to kill you.”
“…What?”
Tyler couldn’t process the words.
“You—a retired agent—were given a mission?”
“I never retired. I was reassigned.”
“Reassigned…?”
“Specialized unit for eliminating trash who fail missions and get captured, leaking the Shadow Corps’ existence. That’s me.”
“That’s—”
“Remember those late-night talks with our squadmates, wondering why no captured agent ever came back alive? We concluded they either killed themselves or were executed by the enemy, right?”
Denil chuckled. “Wrong. It was always us—the Cleanup Unit—who handled them.”
Honestly, Tyler didn’t recall those conversations.
It had been years, and there’d been plenty of rough barracks discussions.
But a dedicated execution squad? That was new.
In all his time in the Shadow Corps, he’d never even heard rumors of one.
“Still using that motto, huh? ‘The masses may never know, but His Majesty will forever hold you in his heart.'”
Denil sneered. “Just pretty words to make dumbasses like you work harder.”
“That’s not true.”
“Believe what you want. Doesn’t change facts.”
Denil stepped closer, dagger in hand. Tyler, despite the paralytic and crushing sleepiness, managed to glare up at him with superhuman will.
“No use fighting it. This blend isn’t something you can tough out.”
Denil was utterly relaxed. Even if Tyler resisted, he couldn’t move a finger.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m repaying my debt—I’ll let you fall asleep before killing you. Consider it mercy.”
“No. He won’t die.”
A new voice cut through the air.
Denil startled, looked toward the sound, dagger raised.
But to Tyler, the voice wasn’t unfamiliar.
He’d heard it days ago.
His blurring vision tilted upward—to where a man stood, crimson eyes gleaming above a white cloth mask.
Ian.
The last thing Tyler saw before darkness took him was Denil’s stunned face.
‘When did he get this close…?’
All of Denil’s focus had been on Tyler. He hadn’t sensed Ian’s approach at all.
“Making a spy your vassal? What kind of joke is that?” Denil recovered quickly, smirking. “I’m more skilled than this fool. Why not recruit me instead?”
“Not your concern.” Ian’s voice was cold.
“And I’ve no use for a psychopath who enjoys killing.”
