Junian asked, "Do you suspect the martial arts instructor?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"He just doesn't fit the image at all." Junian looked genuinely surprised. "If it were another Great Master, maybe. But..."
"Like who?" I prompted.
"Instructor Tanko, for example?"
This woman had no eye for people. Juan practically screamed villain. So why was everyone acting so shocked, as if it were impossible?
"Fine. Instructor Juan's room is at the far end on the right side of the third floor. There aren't any communication crystals, but you might run into another instructor. If you do, just say you're running an errand for me," Junian said.
"Alright."
"And while you're at it, go to my room and bring me some tobacco," she added.
That is just a regular errand now, isn't it?
I nodded and headed to Juan's room.
Fortunately, I didn't encounter any instructors along the way. The doorknob turned without resistance—the instructors' rooms didn't have locks like the hero disciples' did.
I slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind me.
I'd visited the instructors' building once before the regression, during my conversation with Junian. At the time, I hadn't had the chance to properly examine the rooms.
The room was slightly larger than ours, but it didn't feel spacious. It was more like an inn room, furnished with only the bare essentials.
I scanned my surroundings. Someone clever enough to fool even the Badnikers wouldn't leave obvious evidence lying around. Nevertheless, I knew that Juan was the priest, so maybe something would stand out to me.
First, I examined the desk. A stack of martial arts books lay on it, their edges worn from frequent use. I picked up one and flipped through it. The pages were faded, filled with marginalia and handwritten comments. I didn't know what Juan's handwriting looked like, but it felt like his work.
Was it all part of the act? For some reason, I didn't think so.
I set the book down and rifled through the drawers. Nothing but writing utensils, a mirror, accessories, perfumes, and even cosmetics. Whenever I saw Juan, I couldn't shake the impression that he was someone with a polished, almost slick exterior. He seemed oddly interested in adornments.
It was unexpected, yet telling.
Among the items, I found some tobacco. It looked as though he had bought it and shoved the leaves into a corner. They were a bit soft.
Then, I found a notebook, but it didn't hold much. Occasionally, Juan had jotted down class preparation notes, lesson content, and summaries of each hero disciple.
There was a summary of the thirty-nine hero disciples. Well, except for one person.
Only a single word had been written about Evan, then scratched out beyond recognition. That alone piqued my curiosity enough to check whether I was included, too.
" Hm. " As far as I could remember, I had participated in the classes sincerely. Was I wrong?
In any case, I closed the notebook, feeling conflicted. If I hadn't known the truth, I wouldn't have suspected him of being a church member. On the contrary, in many ways, he seemed like a model instructor. The notebook's contents were too detailed, too meticulous to be part of an elaborate ruse.
Regardless of everything, up until he revealed his true nature, Juan had seemed to perform his duties with real diligence.
Feeling oddly deflated, I tossed the notebook back into the drawer.
A soft, unusual sound came from it.
"What's this? Could there be a hidden compartment beneath?" I mumbled.
I knocked on the drawer, and sure enough, my suspicion was correct. I pried up the false bottom and uncovered a hidden compartment beneath. Inside was a rare sheet of precious paper—not just any paper.
"This is..."
It was a photograph.
Cameras like this existed only in Ulkah, the holy land of alchemy. These devices captured moments and people, imprinting them onto paper. Even during my mercenary days, I'd only seen one once.
Every time I saw a photograph, I couldn't help but be amazed. Not even the empire's most gifted painter could match its realism. I'd even heard some artists had become fascinated with the invention of the camera for that very reason. Still, that wasn't what mattered now.
The photograph showed two young men, arms slung around each other's shoulders. Between them stood a woman, beaming brightly.
I recognized one of the men immediately—it was Carzakh, the same man who'd been with me just moments ago.
Was this from his mercenary days? His face was every bit as handsome as he confidently claimed, though it was crisscrossed with scars.
The man beside him exuded a gloomier air and wore the uniform of a knight. His faint scowl was hard to place at first, but after a moment, I realized it was Juan. I didn't know his exact age, but he should be around Carzakh's. This seemed to be before either of them had become Great Masters.
I hadn't known they shared any personal connection.
Wasn't Juan from a noble family? The Vasquez family, if I remembered correctly.
Why would such a nobleman be with Carzakh during his mercenary days? Was he a mercenary as well?
In my experience, a nobleman would have to fall pretty far to end up living that kind of life.
I had a lot of questions, but I pushed them aside. It was time to leave. I'd found everything I could here, so I stepped quietly out of the room.
***
Junian wasn't in the infirmary. I left the tobacco on her desk and exited the instructors' building.
I didn't plan to rejoin the hero disciples just yet because I had something to check first.
The hero disciples were gathered in the clearing, and Juan was standing on the stage.
"Now that you're aware, let me clarify something. The rule Hero Disciple Charon added states that 'points trading between hero disciples is permitted.'"
Right. It's around this time.
This was when the point rankings were first posted and Charon's rule change was announced. That meant there was something I needed to verify.
I circled around the clearing, keeping out of sight, and slipped into the first floor of the hero disciples' building, where the bulletin board was located.
1st place: Charon Woodjack – 43 points
2nd place: Zeros Silver – 31 points
3rd place: Shinba – 29 points
4th place: Hans Vander – 28 points
5th place: Hector Badniker – 25 points
The top rankings matched my memory. So what was my score?
19th place: Luan Badniker – 17 points
It was one point lower than I remembered. My rank had slipped from 16th to 19th. Just a single-point difference—but apparently, many others had the same score.
" Wahhhhhhh! "
A loud cheer erupted from outside.
I peeked through the first-floor window and spotted Carzakh.
"Hello. I am the Swordmaster, Carzakh. Due to some circumstances, I joined the training camp a bit late. I look forward to your cooperation from now on."
The hero disciples' reaction to Carzakh's introduction was explosive.
"S-Swordmaster...!"
"What... isn't he much younger than expected?"
"I don't know, but he is really handsome..."
Even Hector, who was rarely perturbed, looked a bit excited.
"It is elective class time, right? If you come to me, I'll teach you how to use a sword. It's hands-on, so it won't be boring," Carzakh added.
It is the subject selection time.
It was the perfect opportunity for Carzakh, who had just joined, to introduce himself.
As expected, the hero disciples flocked to him like moths to a flame.
He truly is the Swordmaster.
He was the most renowned of the Great Masters, and his youthful appearance certainly didn't hurt his appeal.
"Wait, hold on," Carzakh said, visibly flustered. "There are more people here than I expected..."
At a glance, more than twenty disciples had gathered—more than all the other instructors combined. Before my regression, Juan had been the one to attract the most students.
Ah. At that moment, my gaze fell on a man standing alone, his mood grim. The Martial Arts Master, who had always worn a smile until the moment of his death, now stared at Carzakh with an unreadable expression.
***
After the selection ended, Carzakh and Juan stood in the backyard, facing opposite directions.
"You look good. Hey, I don't think you've noticed, but you've put on some weight," Carzakh remarked.
Juan said nothing.
"You got a smoke on you? Just one?"
"Quit." For the first time, Juan spoke casually. There was something off about his tone.
"You? Seriously?" Carzakh exclaimed.
"Yes," Juan replied flatly. "What are you doing here?"
"I have to perform my duties as a Great Master. The Badnikers aren't generous enough to keep paying someone who slacks off forever—no matter how big their family is."
Juan smiled faintly. "And yet the guy who vanished for years chasing a personal grudge has the nerve to talk. I still don't get why the family head kept you in that position all this time."
"Well, sorry about that," Carzakh said. "I'll do my best from now on. Please take care of me. It's been a while since I've been to a training camp, so I'm a bit lost. Has anything changed?"
Juan didn't answer. The sarcasm vanished from his face when he spoke again. "Stop joking around, Carzakh. Haven't we known each other long enough?"
"What—"
"You heard something about me, didn't you?" Juan interrupted.
Carzakh's breath hitched—barely perceptible, but Juan caught it.
Juan smiled bitterly. "Don't worry. It wasn't obvious."
"I don't know what you are talking about—"
"I don't know what you've heard or who told you, but at least hear my side. Let me explain everything, and then you can decide."
Carzakh sighed. "I still don't know what you're talking about."
"It's hard to explain everything here. And we don't have time. Meet me at midnight," Juan said. "A short walk west of the camp will bring you to a clearing. I'll wait for you there. Come alone."
"You think you can just say this and I'll sit here, doing nothing? I'm asking you what you mean," Carzakh demanded.
Juan remained unfazed by Carzakh's distorted expression, speaking with the same calm tone. "Barbara is dead."
"What?"
At that moment, the loud toll of a bell echoed, signaling the end of the break.
Juan looked at Carzakh's stunned face and said, "Don't forget what I said. Come alone."