Chapter 179: Faceless Imposter Vs Alice [3]
Julies Evans’s POV
Damn... using my own face against her was a clever move after all.
Truth be told, I hadn’t expected Alice to show up here of all places—the storage room.
I assumed she would’ve left the auction house with Amelia, or at the very least crossed blades with Doran. That was the path I had prepared for, the outcome I thought inevitable. But Alice... she always has a way of defying my expectations.
She saw through my plan. She came straight here. And now she’s standing in my way.
The irony isn’t lost on me—she thinks she’s facing the partner of the Phantom Thief, the so-called Faceless Imposter. What she doesn’t realize is that she’s looking directly at me.
My problem is simple yet cruel: I can’t kill her. If she dies, so do I.
But I can’t let her succeed, either. Which leaves me with only one choice.
I have to stop her without truly harming her. I have to break her will, weaken her conviction, make her hesitate.
That’s why I decided to use the dirtiest trick I had.
I showed her my real face.
The risk was obvious. Alice knows the Faceless Imposter can mimic anyone. She knows illusions and disguises are just another weapon of the enemy. But what she doesn’t know—what she can’t even imagine—is that this time, it isn’t just a disguise.
It’s me.
Watching her eyes harden, watching her blade swing at me without pause... it stung more than I care to admit. Cold, sharp, unflinching—she cut through the image of "me" without hesitation.
Part of me admired her for it. The other part?
The other part wondered how long I could keep this up before either of us broke.
But soon enough, a problem arises.
Alice never once doubted it.
This wasn’t Julies.
Julies was away, resting at the family estate. She herself had approved his leave. The man in front of her—this faceless monster who dared wear his features—was nothing but an insult, a hollow mimic.
Her rapier thrust forward like lightning.
CLANG!
The man caught it.
Not barely, not by chance—but with practiced precision.
’So, using my own face didn’t help me in the long run.
We clashed again, sparks spraying between us.
And in that moment, a dangerous thought crossed my mind.
How much was she holding back during our sparring?
Every strike she launched now dripped with killing intent. It was suffocating, overwhelming—a storm pressing down on me. But the past week hadn’t been wasted.
Doran’s teachings... killing intent reveals the path of the sword. It isn’t easy, but if you sharpen your instincts, you can read it.
A prickle ran down my spine. Her bloodlust coiled around me like chains.
And then—
—the rapier lunged for my throat.
CLANG!
Steel screamed. Sparks burst. I twisted, catching the blow.
A grin tugged at my lips. "Hmph. Such insignificant tricks."
She came again, twice in a breath.
CLANG! CLANG!
Two more strikes, both deflected. My dagger gleamed in the half-light, its edge unfamiliar in my palm.
"Wasn’t it a flashy show," I taunted through Julies’s borrowed smile, "befitting a flashy sword?"
Her eyes narrowed, forehead creasing in fury. She hated that expression. She always did.
But I couldn’t let myself slip.
I couldn’t use the Silent Fang. Couldn’t summon the shadows or bleed the blade with my magic. The moment I did, she’d know. She’d realize this wasn’t an imposter. That Julies Evans himself stood before her.
Because the Faceless could copy appearances. But not techniques.
So I had to fight her—using only half of myself.
And against Alice, even half was nearly not enough.
----
Anyway, back to the main point.
What clashed with her blade was no ordinary weapon.
—Take this.
—...Isn’t this Master’s?
—Yes. I’ll lend it to you. Use it well in this operation.
The sword glittered faintly, jewels dangling from its hilt—Doran’s own training blade.
It was a fine weapon, without question.
Different from my usual dagger, which favored evasion and precision, this one was clearly designed with retaliation in mind. A tool for answering a strike with a deadlier strike.
And then the familiar shimmer appeared before my eyes:
-------------
[Fang of Hatsan]
[Category: Dagger]
—Forged in the West, where nobles and the underworld clash endlessly.
—One of two heirlooms carried down through the guild of Hatsan’s leaders.
—Crafted for assassins who value annihilation above all, yet polished to embody the guild’s pride.
—The blade sharpens parries, turning agility into killing force.
—Damage greatly increases when countering.
—Strikes deal additional harm against targets recorded in the "ledger."
---------------
From the name alone, I’d wager it was plundered from the West.
But honestly? Whether it was stolen, bartered, or earned through blood didn’t matter.
What mattered was simple.
It was strong.
And right now, that was enough.
"Can you withstand this too?"
"Oh, the most common thing you see in the North is broadsword skills."
I retorted playfully, and Alice’s eyes grew even fiercer.
She tried to create variations by changing the form of her sword, aiming for unpredictability, but I was a bad match for her.
Recently, I had experienced all of that in training.
The problem, though, was that I could only best defend against her attacks, not finding a real opportunity to counterattack.
Alice’s sword blurred again, silver arcs cutting through the stale air of the storage room.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Each strike rattled through my arms, sparks bursting where steel bit against steel. She wasn’t holding back—not anymore. Every thrust carried intent to kill, to end this here and now.
And yet... I held.
My borrowed dagger—Doran’s blade, the [Fang of Hatsan]—sang with each parry, answering her lightning-fast rapier with sharp, vicious counters. But none landed true. Not because I couldn’t, but because I dared not.
The rhythm of battle was against me.
Her movements were honed, precise, forged in noble duels and battlefield skirmishes alike. Mine, though cloaked in skill, was restricted—every ounce of my instinct screaming to finish it, to slip through her guard with the Fang’s lethal edge.
But if I did... if I went for her throat... there would be no turning back.
Damn it, Alice... why do you make this so hard?
She advanced again, her rapier slicing diagonally—fast as a whip.
CLASH!
I caught it, the impact biting into my wrist. The blade hummed against mine, vibrating with her fury. Her voice followed, low and seething:
"Coward. Hiding behind tricks, behind stolen faces."
Her eyes—sharp as winter ice—locked on me. She was relentless, cutting deeper into the lie with each strike.
"You’re not him. Julies would never sneer like that."
The corner of my mouth twitched. A smile that wasn’t a smile. "...Wouldn’t he?"
I twisted, forcing her blade aside. For a heartbeat, I stepped in, close enough to see her hair stir from my movement, close enough to see the fire raging behind her composure.
The perfect opening. The Fang of Hatsan almost moved on its own, its edge begging for blood.
But my grip tightened. I stopped it.
Alice’s riposte came immediately—SHHHK! Her rapier carved across my cheek. Not deep, but enough to sting. Enough to bleed.
Warmth trailed down my skin.
I laughed. I had to. It was the only mask I could wear now.
"Hah... I see. So this is the true Lady Alice."
Her rapier hovered at my throat, unwavering. "And you are no Julies Evans."
Her conviction was terrifying. She had decided, utterly, that the man before her was an imposter.
Good.
That was the only way this worked.
But as I locked blades with her again, a grim realization began to sink in.
I can’t hold her forever. If she keeps pressing like this, I’ll slip. She’ll break me. She’ll see the truth.
The Fang trembled faintly in my hand, eager, hungry. My heart pounded in sync with it.
And for the first time tonight, I thought:
Maybe... just maybe... I’ll have to hurt her for real.
Before I could continue with my thoughts, Alice attacked again.
Her blade was merciless. Each thrust came faster than the last, like lightning splitting again and again across the night.
CLANG! CLANG! SCHING!
Sparks rained, the ringing of steel filling the cramped room until it felt like the walls themselves trembled. My dagger vibrated in my grip, numbed by the force of her strikes. She wasn’t holding back anymore.
Alice’s face was calm, but her eyes—sharp, unyielding, unwavering—burned with the fire of someone who’d already decided.
She was going to kill me.
And the worst part? She believed without doubt that the thing standing before her wasn’t me.
Her rapier darted low, aiming for my ribs—then twisted upward in a feint, angling for my throat.
Tch—!
I pivoted, my dagger dragging steel against steel.
SCCRREEEECH!
The sound was ugly, sharp enough to split the ear. But the parry held. The Fang of Hatsan hummed in my hand, alive, as if hungry for the counter it had been built for.
"Impressive," I muttered under my breath, letting Julies’s sly smirk linger on my face. "But predictable."
Her brows knitted, and her next strike came even sharper, biting toward my chest.
CLANG!
The impact shoved me back a step. My boots scraped against the floorboards.
She was pressing harder now. Not just attacking—testing. Probing for weakness.
And I couldn’t give her one.
Because the moment I slipped... the moment my rhythm cracked even slightly... Alice wouldn’t hesitate.
And I couldn’t kill her.
That contradiction gnawed at me more with every clash.
Her sword blurred again, this time in a wide arc meant to drive me into the corner.
I raised the dagger—
CLANG!
The collision thundered through the storage room, rattling the lantern on the wall.
My arm shook, but the Fang held firm. Its edge gleamed faintly, as if mocking me. Counter. Strike back.
I didn’t.
Not yet.
Not against her.
Instead, I shoved her rapier aside and answered with words, not steel.
"You’ve gotten stronger since our last spar, Lady Alice." My voice carried Julies’s tone—smooth, almost teasing. "Almost makes me wonder if you were going easy on me before."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
And for the first time, I felt it—her killing intent spike even higher, sharp enough to sting against my skin.
She was done testing.
Now she would kill.