30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

Chapter 190

"It's about time for something to happen."

A month had passed since the headaches known as the Sultan and the Magicians were dealt with.

In that time, Ihan had done his utmost to stay out of troublesome affairs, delegating every issue, from fanatics to minor disputes, to his royal elder sister.

As a result:

• You wretched brat, do you intend to use your elder sister as a servant?
• It’s about division of labor, sis. If a lowly knight like me goes around causing a fuss, it’ll only reflect poorly on us. I need to maintain my reputation too.
• That’s the most brazen excuse I’ve heard all year.
• It’s entirely factual, though.
• …You impudent scoundrel.

While he had to endure her constant complaints, it wasn’t his problem. He had done what she asked, so why was she so demanding?

‘Powerful people never have any shame, do they…’

Having passed on every responsibility, Ihan had spent the past month focusing solely on adjusting the gap between his body and senses. He hadn’t looked at anything else, instead enjoying a peaceful daily routine.

…But Ihan knew.

This peace was merely the calm before the storm.

‘The clouds of war still linger.’

Ordinary people might not sense it, but the heavy air of a battlefield still hovered around Ihan, making him certain that trouble would erupt sooner or later.

A small spark left unchecked could escalate into a blazing inferno.

Tsk.

‘…Sometimes, I wish my instincts were wrong.’

While Ihan was often proud of his keen intuition, its knack for being right about ominous things left him scowling.

Prick.

"Haah, I got so irritated I ended up finishing this in a flash."

Ihan set down the needle and handkerchief he’d been working on. His "training" for the day was complete.

Seeing this, the young noblewomen around him exclaimed:

"Wow, Instructor, that’s amazing! You embroidered a fish design with such precision and speed…!"
"And the level of detail and elegance… incredible!"

The "masterpiece" they admired was a vibrant, dynamic embroidery of fish, meticulously stitched. It was the kind of craft noblewomen might pay 30 gold coins for without hesitation.

After all, creating a handkerchief adorned with over a hundred intricate, lifelike fish was no ordinary feat.

"In just two weeks, he’s surpassed us…"
"This is unbelievable."
"So this is what talent looks like…!"

The young noblewomen, who had been learning embroidery since they were three years old, felt an overwhelming sense of defeat.

It wasn’t just the fish embroidery. Ihan had also produced stunning works depicting dragon scales, phoenix feathers, and lush meadows. Compared to his pieces, their skills seemed amateurish.

"It’s just because my fingers are sturdier than yours. Don’t overpraise me; I might get cocky."

Ihan’s tough skin, immune to the pain of needles scratching and pricking, was a result of years of harsh training. In both his previous and current life, every organization he’d been a part of required him to master sewing.

Since no one would mend his clothes for him, he had been forced to get good at it.

It was a sad history, but it made embroidery and craftsmanship surprisingly easy for him. With decent dexterity and focus, surpassing the noblewomen’s skills had been effortless.

He simply threw himself into the task with relentless determination.

‘This training method is perfect for me.’

To improve his control over his strength, Ihan had decided that delicate, concentration-heavy tasks like embroidery, making teddy bears, and knitting sweaters and scarves were better than lifting weights or metal bars.

He found it enjoyable to create something productive while training, and the more intricate the work, the more stunning the result. It was an immensely satisfying method of practice for Ihan.

"I think I’ve learned a lot about strength control. As a token of thanks, you can have the embroidered items, sweaters, and dolls I’ve made. …That is, if you want them."

Unsure if they’d want handmade items from a man, Ihan shrugged nonchalantly.

But…

"Lady Rose, stop grabbing them! Why are you taking five handkerchiefs?"
"W-what are you talking about? I have no idea."
"Oh, so that’s how it is? Fine! Let’s settle this with fencing!"
"…Hoho, fencing against me? For your information, aside from Lady Levi, I’m the second-best female cadet."
"We won’t know until we try. Or are you scared?"
"…Bring me a fleuret, then!"

The young noblewomen armed themselves with fencing swords and began battling over the masterpieces Ihan had created.

Ihan blinked in confusion.

…He had no idea he was the budding "genius" behind such coveted creations.

*****

"You’ve discovered an unexpected talent, Instructor."
"…I still don’t think this is something worth fighting over. Though, I do like how passionate they are about their sparring."

Of course, they were nobles.
Having learned fencing as part of their childhood education, they had solid fundamentals. With Ihan’s guidance incorporated into their techniques, their skills were genuinely impressive.

The sparring was intense enough to make one worry about potential injuries or bruises, but—

"With sacred magic in place, there shouldn’t be any problems."

Vwoooom.

The Grand Sacred Magic - Barrier of Sacrifice was deployed.

The magic, cast by the interns, ensured that the sparring wouldn’t result in serious injuries, allowing Ihan to watch the duel without concern.

Partway through, Ihan turned to the black-haired young man standing nearby.

"So, what’s the occasion? You don’t usually start conversations. Is something troubling you?"
"When you put it like that, it sounds like I only talk to you when there’s a problem."
"Because it’s true?"
"……."
"You’re quite shameless yourself."
"…Ahem."

The young man with cold, aloof features, who also happened to have a knack for sarcasm, averted his gaze.

Fair enough—he probably recognized his own lack of courtesy.

Roen.
He was an infuriating disciple who usually pretended not to know Ihan unless it suited him.

"So, what brings you here, my lord?"
"…Please, just address me normally. You’re making me nauseous."
"So picky."
"……."
"Alright, I’ll stop teasing you."

At that moment—

Swish.

A figure emerged silently from the shadows. No one had noticed his presence, as if he’d been invisible the whole time.

"Why were you just standing there? Don’t tell me you were planning to scare us."
"Huh?"
"Listen, I’ve told you before: practice swordsmanship instead of stealth skills!"

Unfortunately, the individual’s stealth wasn’t quite good enough to escape Ihan’s detection.

Ihan clicked his tongue in frustration and began chastising him for focusing on the wrong things.

"…I am practicing diligently. It’s just that stealth training improves itself naturally…."
"That’s an annoyingly smug comment, yet somehow it makes you sound pitiful."
"Please don’t pity me…."

The young man, Jack, had the innate talent of an assassin, his skills growing simply from existing. He looked downcast as Ihan scolded him. Still, ever the diligent student, he reached into his pocket and handed Ihan a few photographs.

"Hm?"
"Please take a look."
"…Alright."

Ihan casually glanced at the photos, but then—

"……."

His eyes briefly flashed with a chilling aura before returning to normal.

Flinch.

Though fleeting, that icy pressure was enough to make both Roen and Jack shudder. The sheer weight of Ihan’s presence sent chills down their spines.

Unfazed, Ihan studied the photos.

Though the resolution was poor, he could clearly identify the figures and locations depicted. After a moment, he sighed and muttered,

"Jack, stalking is still a crime, you know."

"……."

The photos appeared to be of Judia Pierre, a priestess in disguise. Alternating between the photos and Jack’s face, Ihan gave him an exasperated look.

Judia Pierre.

A biological woman who often dressed as a man, she was a being with two personalities. Known as the "Temple’s Hound" or "Hyena," she was also a heresy inquisitor.

She was the same person who had threatened Ihan the day before, only to face his wrath.

But Judia Pierre’s history wasn’t limited to her role as an inquisitor.

She was a member of the mystical race known as the Succubus.

This species could enter others’ dreams and feed on the life energy of both men and women. Though not yet notorious, she would one day use her powers to marry Roen, earning the title of one of the "Three Great Villainesses of the Kingdom" and inflicting severe damage on him.

For now, however, no one viewed her as a dangerous individual.

After all, her misdeeds were still a secret.

Only three people knew her true nature: Ihan, someone with a status screen, and Roen, the unfortunate man destined to marry her.

"Still hung up on her?"
"…It’s not like that."

Roen was one of those three.

Ihan continued flipping through the photos, which showed Judia interacting with various people. To an outsider, it would undoubtedly look like stalking.

‘…Anyone unaware of the situation would report this immediately.’

Only because Ihan understood the context could he brush it off. To everyone else, it was blatant stalking.

If these photos were discovered, Roen’s social reputation would take a severe hit.

Sighing, Ihan handed the photos back.

"Why are you showing me something so incriminating? If anyone else saw this, they’d misunderstand a dozen times over."
"I’m showing you because I trust you, Instructor. And you know how much I detest and fear her…."
"I know. …I know it too well, which is why I’m worried."

Ihan couldn’t shake the fear that Roen might drag Judia into some deep underground lair for torture. The boy’s hatred ran that deep.

‘This is why parting ways should always be done cleanly.’

Much like how destroying important documents when quitting a job can make life a living hell, messy breakups only lead to misery.

Unless, of course, someone was prepared for the fallout.

‘And this kid looks like he’s ready to see it through to the bitter end.’

"Give her to me, Instructor. She’s beyond redemption."

Roen, or "Black Dog," glared, his every fiber intent on ending Judia Pierre’s life.

Ihan scratched the back of his head, his thoughts racing.

‘I knew trouble was brewing, but is it already starting?’

The people in the photos were all clearly associated with the temple.

Ihan could feel it—his peaceful days were coming to an end.

‘This is why I hate medieval religion.’

Instead of spreading faith, they only seemed to create chaos.

‘…Maybe a good whack on the head would knock some sense into them.’