The hall suddenly came alive. A large crowd began to dance to the music of the orchestra.
The ladies blushed as Erhardt descended to the first floor. The men gasped at the beauty of the two princesses who followed him. Erhardt and Claudia started the dance. Valdias and Eleanor also danced gracefully.
"Come on, Carl, let's dance up a storm!"
"N-no. I'm not good at dancing."
Carl was dragged along again. William watched the scene with a wry smile. Gregor and Anselm also danced elegantly with the other ladies. They had the skill of dancing worthy of nobles. William couldn't dance like that in this place.
‘I'll need to learn it sooner or later.’
He wasn't invited to dance yet, nor did he have the status or skill to invite anyone. He just observed quietly.
"You suck!"
"Sorry!"
He was more confident than Carl, who was stepping on feet left and right, but―
"―Well, well, the count sure has a sharp tongue."
"Oh, nothing. I'm no match for the viscount."
William's ears caught a conversation. A meaningless conversation.
"The liquor is better in the south. But Galias' is not that good. Why is that?"
"It's the national character, I suppose. They are pragmatic people. They don't care much about the quality of their pleasures. They can import those things anyway."
Galias was a great power. The largest nation in the world, and there was nothing that couldn't be obtained in that country. But most of those things were imported, and they didn't produce them themselves.
‘A conversation of drunkards, how boring.’
William regretted listening to it slightly. Well, it would be pointless to have a meaningful conversation in this place. William didn't expect much from this conversation either. He was just extremely bored. So bored that he listened to this dull conversation―
"Count Vlad is indeed well-informed."
William turned around in an instant.
He saw a gentleman with a gentle expression. A sincere and kind atmosphere.
"VVladddd!!!!"
It could be a coincidence. He didn't think it was that man. He imagined a more vile and base man. But William felt it.
That man was the one who stole his beloved sister.
In an instant, a tremendous murderous aura spilled forth. The smile vanished from his face, his mind racing in pure anger.
Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill, the hatred, the rage, and despair welling up from every inch of his body overwhelmed him. He couldn’t bear it, any moment now his sense of reason would snap.
He would twist that bastard’s neck, gouge out his eyes, crush its genitals. No matter what stood in his way, he would crush them all, annihilate everything.
"Huh?!"
Hilda and the others noticed the change. Erhardt, Valdias, and William's eyes turned to him. In the hall where silence was impossible, a silent time opened up.
‘Calm down. Am I an idiot? I can't do anything in this place!’
That silence brought William back to his senses. But it was already too late, and some people looked at William with suspicious expressions.
"You, what the hell do you mean by that?"
Gilbert stood in front of William. His eyes were full of hostility.
"What do you mean? I don't understand your intention."
William replied in a light tone as much as possible.
"Don't play dumb. What was the reason for showing such a baseless thing?! Answer, you foreigner!"
The hostility became a sword and grazed William. Gilbert's aura was a sharp sword. A sword that protected the nation, and a proof of loyalty to the nation as a noble. He was a noble and a sword to the bone.
‘This is bad. Really... I screw up at the most crucial times.’
Gilbert wouldn't let him go. He knew that without looking at his eyes.
‘How do I get out of this situation…? It's hard, damn it.’
The problem was that there were many talented people in this place. It was too hard to fool them. The killing intent was too obvious, and the atmosphere was his personality. Even if he said it wasn't him, they would see it and feel it.
"William!"
Carl tried to come over, but Hilda stopped him. The situation was not good. He didn't do anything in particular, but he gave Gilbert a decisive excuse.
"Answer. Depending on the answer, I'll use the power of the Oswald house to eliminate you."
Yes, Gilbert had the power to eliminate William even if he didn't do anything. The duke's house had that much power.
William's back was sweating. This was a predicament. A more difficult situation than a battlefield.
‘Huh?’
There was a thin fog at William's feet. No one had noticed it yet.
‘This is, no way…’
William searched his memory. There was no condition for fog to occur in this place. And this fog that accumulated at his feet was not natural. If so―
‘Heh, I'm lucky after all.’
The source of the fog. He thanked the person who was there. William smiled.
"What are you laughing at? Are you mocking the Oswald house?!"
"No way. I was just surprised that Sir Gilbert, of all people, didn't notice it."
"Notice? What?"
Gilbert looked puzzled. William smiled and said,
"We have a visitor. An unwelcome one, that is."
He looked over there.
The fog reached below their knees, and everyone in the room noticed something was wrong. The fog was odorless and tasteless, probably not poisonous or anything like that. Pure—a blindfold.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Gilbert asked William. William ignored him and started moving.
Whatever his aim was, this was a helping hand. If he could ride it well, it would be a good opportunity.
"Carl, protect the prince. Don't let him through, even if you die."
With one word, Carl also started moving. He didn't understand the meaning of the order, but he obeyed obediently and honestly, and that was how he had risen to this point. The invincible Carl's ten-man squad was possible because Carl was like this.
"What are you going to do, William?"
He answered Carl's question with a smile.
"I'm going to hunt."
William took a knife that was prepared for the meal, and spun it around in his hand. The only one who had a sword in this place was the prince, Eirhart. And if it came to using it, it would be checkmate. There was no future for a soldier who couldn't protect the prince. But if he could—there would be no better deal than this.
The fog thickened. When it covered half of their bodies, the ladies screamed in the hall. The skilled soldiers, including Carl, were all guarding the prince and the women. They were fully prepared.
‘Then the target isn’t the prince.’
At this point, William was the only one who excluded the prince from the protection targets. No fool would target the first person to be guarded with such a method. On the contrary, it would be natural for the prince to think that this was a bluff and someone else was the target. But that didn't mean he could leave the prince alone. But that justification was fulfilled by the fact that Carl was guarding him.
The fog suddenly deepened. The visibility disappeared.
‘I have to overwrite the impression from earlier as much as possible.’
A formal suit and a knife. Hardly a posture to face something. But enough—
They—
"Here they come! Don't let a single ant through!"
"Understood!"
Even if the assassins were all skilled—
"First one."
William was far superior.
Blood splattered. From here on, this became the real ball for William.
In the fog, everyone was blinded. William was the only one who could move freely. Even those who could sense the atmosphere couldn't move like this. But William was different. Because he was distorted as a warrior, he could do more. He had more options than those who only focused on the battlefield.
William's senses were sharpened far more than before. He had acquired an atmosphere, not just becoming stronger. More keenly, more widely, more deeply, his senses worked.
"Second one."
If you can't see, listen with your ears.
William's knife smoothly stroked the assassin's neck. Gently, sharply, and beautifully, the knife that was supposed to be dull turned into a sword when William used it.
"Third, fourth."
If you can't see, smell with your nose.
William danced. No one was watching. The only audience was the assassins in front of him wearing masks.
The ones who were most confused by this situation were none other than the assassins. The plan was perfect. There should have been no obstacles to the target, and if there were, they would be unarmed. They were armed, and their eyes, which they had trained themselves, could see in this fog. There was no way they were inferior to them.
"Fifth!"
If you can't see, feel with your skin.
But in fact, a single monster dominated this place. Just going at him would only increase the corpses. The assassins changed their strategy.
‘They scattered... who's the target?’
They left William behind and switched to assassinating the target, even if they had to take a detour. It was too late a decision, but William's existence was too unexpected. They had taken away the most weighted sense of sight. Who would have thought that there was someone who didn't mind that?
‘For now, sixth!’
William threw the knife. Like an arrow, it pierced the assassin's temple. He easily plucked another life.
‘Three more. Two of them are... oh, too bad. You got too close.’
One of the assassins who got too close to the prince was devoured by Valdias's powerful arm. His spine was crushed by the sheer strength, and he writhed on the ground until Valdias's big foot crushed him. The other one was knocked out by Gilbert's uppercut, and Hilda, Anselm, and Gregor kicked him to death.
‘They're good. The boys aren’t just all talk, huh?’
He thought that while he also took the seventh life. He didn't pick up the knife he threw, but used another knife that was lying on the table, and snapped it into the back of his head as he passed by at zero distance.
‘One more!’
But that one. His movements were clearly different from the others.
‘That's a pretty good move, huh?’
Fast and supple movements. And unlike the other nine assassins who were like dolls that only carried out their mission, he felt intelligence in his movements.
‘He avoided me... and not the prince either. Where? Who's the target?!’
He didn't let his target be known. He walked through the crowd, erasing his presence like a thief, a scentless movement.
‘The sound is quiet. The smell too; the perfume suits this place. Huh, I'm about to lose him.’
The last assassin who had been prepared for everything. He wanted to hunt him down no matter what, but William was about to lose him. His footsteps were small and he even melted his scent into the surroundings. He was thorough. Anxious, sweat ran down William's back.
But—
‘His killing intent spilled! He found the target and got impatient?!’
William caught the assassin who was about to lose him with his killing intent. He barely made it.
The fog began to clear. This was the last chance for both of them.
"I found you!"
William cut in between the person who was probably the target and the assassin. The assassin was in front of him. His weapon was something like a dagger. His own was a dining knife.
"Don't get in the way."
The assassin said in a higher voice than he expected. He held the dagger.
William took advantage of his movement and slid the knife in. The assassin twisted his body and skillfully dodged it. William was amazed at his incredible flexibility, and at the same time, the assassin's dagger aimed at William's throat from an unbelievable position.
‘He's... strong!’
There was no sound in his movements. He made unnatural movements look natural. His strength was different from that of a strong man, but rather like that of a weak man who had mastered his own strength. He didn’t smell of martial arts, which made him all the more troublesome.
"I'll kill him!"
Shivers. William had never felt such a killing intent. A sword of murderous intent with such a firm purpose. How much must he hate the person behind him to be able to unleash such pressure?
"Huh?"
Relaxation. Anyone who saw it would lose their nerve.
"Whoosh!"
His whole body sprung like a spring with a supple movement. It's not a movement that exploited a gap, but a movement that created a gap and struck it. The opponent is not a warrior, let alone an assassin.
‘Could it be, this movement?’
William didn't have a gap because he knew that movement. He matched his knife to the assassin's movement. The assassin also risked his life to swing his dagger.
The knife and the dagger crossed.
"Wha... why?"
The assassin's mask broke. What appeared behind it was a beautiful woman with brown skin, William's childhood friend and best friend, Favela.
"That's my... what?!"
William realized who he was protecting. The target of the assassins this time was the person behind him. And the reason why Favela joined them. There was only one. There was only one person.
William glanced back. There was a haze that made it hard to see, but there was no doubt, no mistake, the figure of the man who had burned into his eyelids a moment ago was there.
‘So that's what it is.’
He didn't know the circumstances, but Favela must have known that Count Vlad, the enemy of her sister, would appear here, and she took advantage of the assassination request that was already there. If he had done the same thing to Arlette as he had done to others behind the scenes, he would have brought a lot of resentment. It was not unnatural that there was a request from the Assassination Guild. It was natural that Favela would join it.
‘That's why the three of us... idiots…’
It was no longer that dimension. Their ways of life did not cross. Kyle had some part of him that sensed that, but Favela probably didn't understand yet. That's why she could do such a misaligned act with ease.
William pulled Favela's stunned face close to him.
"Run to the usual place. We'll take care of the rest."
The words were whispered in a gentle voice, but this was close to an order. If they looked into each other's eyes, they would understand what they were thinking. Favela felt painfully how angry William was now.
A momentary encounter. The moment William let go of her hand, Favela ran away in the fog. Her feet were fast and silent. Even after the fog thinned, the darkness of the night was on Favela's side.
When the fog cleared the surroundings began to stir because of the gruesome sight.
"Are you... the White Mask?"
Vlad called out to him. For Vlad, William must have been a savior. No, for everyone else, it was the same. The hero who repelled the assassins. More than the intangible killing intent, the atmosphere, the results were superior. The results of having protected and killed many were the best proof that he was not thinking of anything bad in this place.
William stroked his own face. The mask was broken by both of them at the same time and fell to the ground. Now he was there with his bare face. That was fine. "This" was strictly speaking not his own way, but the revenge of "Al" who was inside him. It didn't make sense if he wasn't bare-faced.
"Yes, Count Vlad. I am the White Mask, William Liwius. I hope to get to know you well, Count."
This was a declaration of war. The revenge that he, who had been the White Avenger, had left undone, his first and last revenge.
Originally they were brother and sister, they looked alike. The same hair color, the same eyes, a gentle and calm boy. If it was that time, he might have been exposed at this point. Or maybe he didn't even remember a slave like him.
"Thank you, William. You are my benefactor."
Vlad asked for a handshake with gratitude. William accepted it willingly.
William had changed. The gentle little boy of that time had died, and then he got white hair and bottomless despair. As the White Avenger, he fed on hatred and made extraordinary efforts, to acquire knowledge and power. He understood his own deeds and was ready to climb the high tower.
That's why Vlad was nothing. He was not in a position to care about a mere count. Compared to the heights he should aim for, the throne, how trivial it was. But still, he needed a line. Even if it was trivial for William, it was everything for "Al". He had to satisfy him a little since he had admitted that "Al" was also a part of him.
"It's nothing, Count."
That's why William gave Vlad his best smile.
He would return the despair he received that day, tenfold, a hundredfold. This smile was that silent proclamation.
༺༻
The hall was silent. The fog cleared, and nine corpses lay in this place. No one in this place was looking at the gruesome sight. As if they didn't even see it, they were staring at one point.
The handsome man who appeared from the white mask.
His translucent white hair reflected the light of the candlestick and cast a red shadow. His sharp eyes with a strong gaze deepened the impression of the man more than when he was hidden by the mask. His body, which was trained and eliminated all waste, was a mass of rationality, and it made the viewer yearn for his supple form.
He was a man who suited the night. He was a man who suited the moon. If he had met him under the moonlight, he would have gasped at his "beauty". The moon attracts people.
He was a man like the moon.
“...Carl, sir. I'm sorry, but I let one escape. I'll pursue him from now on, so I'll leave the rest to you."
Every word was picturesque. Most of the people in this place didn't even remember the commotion from before. No, to begin with, the impression they had of William until then had changed. They couldn't easily recall the past that had been overwritten. That's how much William, who had been released from the mask, was full of charm.
"Take care!"
The only one who was calm in this place was Carl, who was used to seeing him. Even Erhardt and Valdias didn't expect such a charming man to come out from under the mask.
"I see. This performance works."
Erhardt was impressed. The strong image, the attractive impression that William had planted in this place, was born because he had hidden it with a mask. The white mask confuses, troubles, and arouses people's interest. Whether it's ugly or handsome, the more you know, the more interested you become. In the man named William Livius—
"William, sir."
Even those who were in the midst of the glow—