I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 312

"S-Sir? What is this...!"

In the blink of an eye, Seras found her feet off the ground, her breath catching as she instinctively flailed her legs. Ian adjusted his grip, lightly tossing her up before catching her securely again, leaning down as he spoke.

"If you keep moving like that, it’ll be hard to hold you properly."

Seras froze, her eyes meeting Ian's, and her struggling came to an abrupt stop. Her entire body stiffened instead.

Without breaking eye contact, Ian added, "Relax your body."

"W-What...?"

"You could get hurt otherwise."

"That’s... that’s easier said than... Alright, I’ll try."

"And wrap your arms around my neck."

"A-Around your neck...?"

Her body, which had just relaxed, tensed up again. "That’s a bit... difficult..."

She stammered, her eyes darting around as though broken.

Ian sighed and said, "We’re about to climb over walls and hop across rooftops. It’ll be easier if you do. Besides..."

He adjusted his hold on Seras again, briefly scanning both ends of the alley. "If we keep standing here like this, we might end up in another... misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding... Yes, we definitely can’t afford a misunderstanding like that," Seras murmured dazedly, her lips pressed tightly together.

After a long exhale, as if steeling herself, she reached her hands into Ian’s cloak. Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, slightly sweaty against his skin.

"Tighter." Ian opened his cloak slightly, pulling her close as if enveloping her. "Make sure your hands meet at the opposite elbow. Hold on tight, so you don’t get shaken around."

"O-okay..." Her arms clumsily circled his neck, and Ian could feel her breath brushing against the back of his neck. A faint, silent chuckle escaped his lips.

She proposed so casually, and now look at her.

Fortunately, Seras wasn’t particularly heavy. With her arms now wrapped securely around his neck, it only took a slight pull of his right arm, which supported her under the knees, to keep her balanced with ease.

Glancing up at the top of the wall, Ian crouched briefly.

"Don’t loosen your grip," he whispered before extending his left arm and leaping into the air.

Thud—

The moment his fingers touched the top of the wall, Ian pulled himself up with force, his body launching like an arrow.

Tap—

Landing lightly on the wall, Ian wasted no time, kicking off the ledge and propelling himself toward the mansion’s balcony and wall in quick succession.

It took only seconds for him to ascend to the roof of the three-story mansion.

The soundless landing was thanks to his Shadow Cloak. The magic that was cast on it prevented any noise from getting out.

"Are you alright?" Ian whispered, crouching like a cat on the rooftop.

"... Are we really on the roof now?" Her voice emerged from underneath his cloak, where Seras had buried her face.

"Keep holding on tight. And I suggest you avoid looking outside."

"Hold on tight, and don't look outside if you can avoid it," Ian added, before sprinting across the roof.

He leaped silently from its edge, landing on the adjacent rooftop. The Shadow Cloak fluttered silently, clinging even closer to his body. To any onlookers, it would seem like a dark shadow was skimming across the rooftops. Below, the street leading to his estate became visible.

At the same time, the view of the street leading toward the mansion became clear.

It looks like a pilgrimage procession, Ian thought as he observed the line of carriages and the crowd gathered along the street. Though people had visited him before, he'd never seen so many at once.

Must be on a whole different scale since we're in the capital.

At the front of the crowd stood Phaden, fully armored in plate mail. His helmet was on, and his sword drawn, blocking the carriages and crowd from advancing toward the mansion’s gates.

He’s certainly working hard.

Two other figures, armed with spears and shields, stood beside him. They looked like estate servants, awkward and unsure, probably having grabbed the gear from storage. But they were doing their job, keeping the crowd at bay. Satisfied with what he saw, Ian landed silently on the next rooftop and immediately continued running, staying out of sight.

He vaulted over rooftops, railings, and walls, moving swiftly and soundlessly. Eventually, he leaped one last time, landing in the familiar courtyard where a carriage stood waiting.

Shhh—

Ian rolled to a stop, landing softly on his back and sliding to a halt. The surface of the Shadow Cloak remained smooth and clean, without a trace of dust.

"S-Sir...?!"

Gibson, who had been anxiously standing by the mansion’s door, widened his eyes in delayed shock.

"How... did you come from over there?"

"I made use of the neighboring houses," Ian replied casually, standing up and turning toward Gibson. "Go outside and swap places with Sir Phaden. He needs to prepare to depart."

"Ah... y-yes! Right away!" Gibson, still in disbelief, nodded and hurried across the courtyard, trying to regain his composure as he headed off.

As he disappeared, Ian finally set Seras down and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I’m fine... Just a little dizzy..." Seras replied, unsteady, as she held onto Ian’s arm for balance. Her face was slightly flushed, and she looked a bit dazed.

She fumbled with her cloak for a moment before continuing, "You really returned quietly and quickly, Agent of the Saint. You didn’t even use the front door."

"I'm quite used to sneaking around. When Sir Phaden returns, let him know to prepare the carriage for departure. And don’t touch the white horse I’ll be riding."

Turning toward the mansion, Ian added, "I should go inside and get ready to leave."

"I'll relay the message, but how do you plan to leave? It won't be as easy to go unnoticed on horseback."

"You can draw their attention for me," Ian replied casually.

"Ah...?" Seras blinked, not quite following. "Should I make it seem like you are in the carriage as well?"

"No need to lie. Simply let them know you’re in the carriage—that should be enough." Ian shrugged, casting a glance back at Seras. "Rather, if I pretend not to be there, won’t that make them more suspicious and follow you?"

Seras, who had momentarily widened her eyes, nodded with a slight smile curling at her lips. "You're right. That makes sense. You've already figured out how the people of the capital think, Agent of the Saint."

Ian returned her smile before turning his gaze away.

"Let’s finish the meal we missed today another time."

He glanced at Phaden, who was returning through the front gate into the garden, and finally began walking back toward the mansion.

***

Creeeeak—

The firmly closed gate opened slightly.

"Oh, oh...?!"

"Is that the Agent of the Saint...?"

The crowd that had gathered along the street buzzed with excitement, but the one who stepped out was a maid in simple attire. She quickly made her way to Gibson, who stood in the middle of the street, and whispered something into his ear.

Gibson’s eyes widened as he looked at the maid. After she gave a small nod, he immediately turned to the carriage and the crowd and shouted.

"Make way! Her Highness the Princess is passing through! Everyone, step back and clear the road!"

"Th-The Princess...?"

The crowd exchanged puzzled glances, as did the coachmen in their seats.

Gibson, his eyes fierce, shouted again, "Unless you want to commit a grave offense, move back! Now!"

Only then did the crowd retreat hesitantly. The coachmen jumped down from their carriages and moved aside.

"Did you not hear? Her Highness the Princess is passing! Step back, all of you! Spread the word!"

"Everyone, move back! Pass it on!"

"Pass it on!"

Amidst the commotion, the coachmen began pushing their carriages backward. The horses stepped back, and the crowd followed suit, slowly retreating. Finally, Gibson's gaze shifted to the servants. One of them, carrying a spear and shield, nodded and dashed to the gate. He threw down his spear and pushed the gate open with all his strength.

Creeeeak—

Through the now wide-open gate, a black carriage drawn by two brown horses appeared.

As Gibson cast a gaze at the horses, the carriage slowly emerged. Sitting atop the coachman’s seat was Phaden, with his helmet pressed low. He scanned the crowd coldly through the gap in his face guard before suddenly standing up.

"Kneel and show your respect! Her Highness the Princess is aboard this carriage!"

"...!"

"E-Eternal glory and prosperity to the Empire!"

Startled, the crowd dropped to their knees in reverence. A wave of kneeling swept from the front to the back. Even the coachmen, who had dismounted earlier, fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

"Tsk...."

Phaden clicked his tongue in and sat back down. Turning the carriage, he directed it onto the empty path to the left, away from the crowd still gathered on the right.

Clip-clop, clip-clop—

With the crowd kneeling behind them, the Princess’s carriage slowly disappeared into the distance.

The silence that had fallen over the street didn’t last long.

"Get in the carriage immediately."

"How long do you plan to kneel there?"

Suddenly, several carriage windows swung open, and impatient voices called out to their coachman.

"Follow the Princess’s carriage, now."

"Turn the carriage before anyone else starts moving. Hurry."

The orders were nearly identical, and the bewildered reactions of the coachmen were equally similar.

"But, my lord, it was Her Highness, the Princess, in that carriage, not the Agent of the Saint...."

"Yes, Her Highness is in the carriage, but no one said she was alone, did they?"

"Surely, the Agent of the Saint is with her as well. He must have sent the Princess to disperse the crowd. Hurry and follow them. The Agent of the Saint will surely disembark along the way. We mustn't miss him!"

"Y-Yes, my lord!"

At last, the coachmen hastily began pushing their carriages forward, trying to get ahead of the others. Their conversation, of course, spread to those nearby.

"Is the Agent of the Saint really in that carriage...?"

"Well, then we should follow it quickly, shouldn’t we?"

The onlookers, who had been hesitating, rose, and soon the rest of the carriages became noisy with movement.

"Just as the rumors say, the Agent of the Saint is slipping away once again. Hurry! We must catch him to receive his teachings!"

The retreating servants heading back into the mansion and the rapidly disappearing carriage were enough to solidify their suspicions. Soon, several carriages took off, racing after it. Even the pedestrians, almost running, began chasing after the carriage.

"W-We’d better follow too! We’ll lose the carriage if we don’t hurry!"

Those who had hesitated with doubt moments before were now caught up in the rush, racing to catch up with the others. It was a scene of mass movement, and the noise that had filled the street gradually faded into the distance.

Creeeeak—

The gate opened again only after a few more minutes of complete silence. Gibson, with cautious eyes, stepped out and scanned the area as he walked.

Just then, a man wearing a black hooded cloak appeared, holding the reins as he walked out. The white horse following behind him was covered with a brown fur-lined blanket that draped over its head, neck, and body, with silver armor faintly visible underneath. The man pulling the reins was, of course, Ian.

Startled, Gibson turned to look at him and muttered, "I haven't finished checking if the area is clear yet, Sir."

"It’s fine. I can shake off a few of them on my own," Ian answered calmly as he stepped onto the road.

A few passersby were visible in the distance, but none seemed to look for him. Everyone who had been after him had followed the carriage that Seras was in.

...I didn’t expect them to take the bait so easily.

Muttering to himself, Ian turned in the opposite direction from where they were headed and added, "Take good care of the place while I’m gone. Feel free to use my salary for maintenance and wages."

Gibson bowed respectfully. "I will await the day you return safely after fulfilling your duty."

Ian nodded and swiftly mounted his horse. His Shadow Cloak fluttered silently, briefly revealing the heavily armed figure beneath before it disappeared once more. The white horse, Nila, moved as if it had been waiting for this moment.

"Head back inside. Seeing me off will only draw more attention."

Ian glanced back at Gibson and then turned his gaze toward the far end of the street. In the distance, dust clouds were rising above the rooftops—the dust kicked up by the carriage he had lent to Seras and those chasing after it. Judging by the direction, they were likely heading toward the area near the papal state to the east. By now, those following the carriage probably had become convinced that they were on the right track.

What brought a faint smile to Ian's lips, however, wasn't that.

She really made a marriage proposal until the last moment.

After all, Seras's parting words were about there being ways to support each other in life, telling him to consider it while in the North. Of course, it wasn’t something that required much thought. She likely hadn’t expected Ian to accept, anyway.

With a short laugh, Ian shook off the thought and looked ahead again, pulling a carefully folded piece of paper from his pocket.

As he unfolded the paper, a map of the central region came into view. It was something Philip had used and left behind as a gift. To Ian, though, it still resembled more of a hasty sketch than a proper map.

Burdin is on the southwestern border of the autonomous territory...

Despite its rough appearance, Ian was able to make out the route he needed to follow. His eyes lingered on a small town drawn between the capital and Burdin.

At this distance, it should take five to six days... If I push the pace, I can probably make it in four.

There was a place he needed to stop before meeting those who might be allies or spies. He had a report to deliver after completing his mission.

Just as Ian was about to fold the map back up, he heard a sharp intake of breath nearby.

"Agent of the Saint...?"

A few men who seemed to have arrived late were now rounding the corner, wide-eyed, as they looked up at him.

Ian didn’t bother to ask how they had recognized him. He simply raised a finger to his lips and gave a slight shake of his head.

The men instinctively fell silent as Nila turned and began trotting away at a brisk pace. For a moment, they just stood there, watching in awe.

"Glory to the radiant light..." one of them muttered, clasping his hands in front of his chest and bowing his head. The others followed suit, murmuring a quick prayer.

By the time they finished their brief prayer and lifted their heads, the figure of the Agent of the Saint on his white horse had already faded into the distance, disappearing down the street.

"...Huh."

And soon, even that was fully concealed by the bustling crowd, all absorbed in their own lives, making him vanish entirely from sight.