Chapter 52 - A Foreign Sensation

* * *

Limon's eyes snapped open. At the same instant, he drew the sword beside his pillow. Poised to meet an attack from any direction, he spoke quietly.

"Who is it?"

It was less a question than a warning: whoever dared approach him had better be prepared to fall to his sword. The Sword Master's words carried a chill, murderous intent that even a Monarch could not ignore.

The answer was simple. "Room service."

"... What service?"

"Room service. I've brought your breakfast."

The reply from beyond the door was more courteous than he'd expected. After blinking in a daze, Limon looked around. A large bed stood in an even larger room, with a carpet on the floor and paintings on the walls. Once he'd taken in the unmistakably luxurious surroundings, his tension vanished.

'Oh, right. I'm at the Leviathan Hotel.'

Old habits died hard. He'd been staying at the Leviathan for days, yet here he was, waking up with his sword drawn again. Limon sighed at his own stupidity. He knew in his head that he was safe, but after all those years fighting the Seven Dragons Society, his body still treated this place as the heart of enemy territory.

"May I come in?"

"Oh. Sure."

CLACK.

After Limon sheathed his sword, Yo U-in entered as though he'd been waiting for just that, pushing a serving cart. The elderly man in a suit showed no sign of alarm at the sight of Limon with a sword in one hand. Perhaps he'd grown used to it. He simply set breakfast on the table, unwrapping silverware from a napkin, laying out piping-hot pumpkin soup and toast topped with bacon and a fried egg with a runny yolk, then pouring lemon water. Watching him prepare the meal without a sound or the slightest hint of his presence, as if he were a video on mute, Limon clicked his tongue.

'And I'm supposed to let my guard down around him?'

Someone who didn't know better might marvel at his immaculate, noiseless movements and call them the model of service. But Limon knew the silence wasn't for the guest's comfort. It came from training to conceal his presence, approach a target, and eliminate them. Naturally. This was Hotel Leviathan, after all: a nest of the Black Dragon Clan before it was the finest hotel in the world.

So Limon took a bite of toast and asked with a sneer, "Should the hotel's general manager really be delivering room service himself?"

"Providing special service to special guests is part of the general manager's job."

"What an honor."

"The honor is mine."

As if he'd never imagined Limon would become a guest here. Was he being sarcastic or sincere? His impeccable manners made it impossible to tell. Limon shot Yo U-in a glance, grumbled inwardly that the Black Dragon Clan was a pain to deal with, and swallowed the rest of the toast he'd been chewing.

"Special service or not, I'll give you this: the food's good."

"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I wasn't talking to you. I meant the chef who cooked it."

"Then I should thank you."

"Huh?" Limon blinked, then looked between his empty plate and Yo U-in. "Don't tell me you made this."

"As I said, providing special service is part of the general manager's job."

"... Damn it. Isn't running the hotel enough? Why the hell are you so good at cooking too?" Limon frowned despite himself. The crispness of the bread, the golden fried egg with its runny yolk, the delicate touch of salt... The toast's simple preparation made its exquisite craftsmanship all the more apparent. It was plainly the work of a first-rate chef.

Yo U-in didn't boast. He answered calmly, as though it were a trivial skill. "Live long enough and you pick up a few talents."

"... Are you taking a dig at me? Calling me an old man who's lived this long and learned nothing but how to swing a sword?"

"I would never dream of it."

"Sure you wouldn't."

The general manager could make even an insult sound courteous. Limon snorted and lifted the cup of pumpkin soup to his lips, drinking it down. Annoying as the man was, Limon had no reason to turn down a meal already served, so long as it wasn't poisoned.

Once he'd finished his simple breakfast and was rinsing his mouth with lemon water, a thought seemed to strike him. "Where's the princess?"

"She's gone out."

"It's only six. Busy morning for her."

"Someone has given her more urgent matters to attend to."

In other words, Li Qingyu was busy because of him.

"Should've trained your people better. If she had anyone she could trust with the work, things would be easier for her."

A direct hit: she was rushing around herself because she couldn't rely on Yo U-in.

"I regret that as well. Unfortunately, some clan matters require Her Highness to handle them personally."

A pointed reminder that Limon was still an outsider and had no place commenting.

"That's a shame. If we'd had the wedding already, I could've helped."

And a blunt reminder that marrying Li Qingyu would put Limon above Yo U-in in rank.

It was a clash of titans. They weren't holding swords, but neither hesitated to sink the hidden fangs in their words into the other. Yet for all the barbs they traded, the mood between them wasn't hostile. Far from it; it was perfectly calm.

Both Limon and Yo U-in were seasoned veterans. They'd survived countless fights where a head could be lost in the blink of an eye and learned to drive a blade into a heart with a smile. To them, this argument was no more than light banter. After a little more of their friendly conversation, Limon finished eating. Yo U-in cleared away the dishes and asked politely:

"What are your plans for today?"

"Plans? What would I have to do around here?" Limon gave a small snort, then named the one activity he'd repeated every day for the past few days. "Might as well go do my morning sword practice."

* * *

The sword moved. Slowly rather than quickly, gently as if pushing aside clouds, yet heavily as if holding a boulder. It moved so slowly it almost seemed still, but its graceful motion flowed on without a pause. It was art: a slow sword technique embodying slowness brought to its pinnacle, impossible to look away from once seen.

"Ah, shit." The swordsman himself was less impressed. After four solid hours of silently swinging his sword since breakfast, Limon stopped with a curse. He carefully sheathed it, wiped away his sweat with a towel, and scowled. "So this won't work either?"

That was unusual. Not the fact that he was training with his sword. Sword practice was part of Limon's daily life, something he'd devoted hours to every day unless he was exceptionally busy. What was unusual was his expression. He generally came away from practice feeling refreshed, not irritated, unless something urgent had forced him to stop midway or he was unhappy with the path his sword had traced.

No one had interrupted him, and there was nothing wrong with his swordwork. There was only one reason for his irritation: he hadn't gotten results. "What the hell did that damn snake leave inside me?"

Limon clicked his tongue. Being a wanted traitor who couldn't easily go outside wasn't the only reason he'd thrown himself into sword practice these past few days. Ever since he'd cut down the Serpent That Connects the Ends, he'd felt something foreign inside his body. At first, he'd thought it was a curse. He'd dealt with plenty of worthless bastards leaving curses behind before they died, and a constellation might well make that much of a last-ditch effort. But he'd soon realized this was something far more troublesome and unwelcome than a curse: remnants of the starlight that had shattered and seeped into him after he'd cut down the serpent.

"Fuck. What the hell are constellations made of? Every time I cut one down, the bastard leaves something or other inside my body."

The signs had been there for some time. He'd become able to see constellations after his regression, and each time he cut one down, a system message appeared saying he'd absorbed something. Looking back, it was easy enough to guess that he was absorbing something every time he struck a constellation. The question was what that something was.

'It does seem useful, at least.' If all he'd absorbed was a constellation's power, and that was why he could see them, it might be unpleasant but wasn't necessarily bad. It was easier to cut down an enemy he could see. Perhaps there were other ways to use the power that he simply hadn't discovered yet.

But what if it wasn't just power? What if something else was mixed into that starlight? What if he'd absorbed a constellation's personality too? What if cutting down constellations and absorbing their fragments made him more like them?

"It doesn't sit right with me." Limon clicked his tongue. Perhaps he was worrying over nothing, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not after seeing what had happened to Park Hyeon-gun, who'd thoughtlessly gobbled up the power offered by a constellation until the serpent gobbled him up instead.

The foreign sensation itself was reason enough for concern. Something foreign was, by definition, something of a different nature. Feeling that difference within himself could hardly be a good sign. 'It might just be indigestion, but...'

Three before his regression. One after defeating Lee Cheon-gi. Limon had cut down constellations and absorbed their fragments before, even if he'd only struck parts of their bodies. Yet he'd never felt anything foreign until he cut down the serpent. Perhaps he'd simply absorbed too many fragments from it and was feeling bloated. Or perhaps it was merely a matter of incompatibility, something he'd naturally adjust to with time.

'Then again, what I take for indigestion could turn out to be heavy-metal poisoning.'

Limon refused to be blindly optimistic. If things could improve naturally, they could just as naturally get worse. He had no idea when he'd fight constellations again or how many he might cut down, so he couldn't simply leave everything to time. Besides, even if the foreign sensation faded, that wouldn't solve the whole problem. 'Power you can't control is bound to cause trouble someday.'

Even his ability to see constellations wasn't something he used by choice. It activated on its own. What if he gained the power to petrify anyone he looked in the eye, or kill anyone who heard his voice, and that activated on its own too? The result would be a terrible catastrophe.

'I need to be able to control it, at the very least...' That was why Limon had thrown himself into sword practice hard enough to work up a sweat for the first time in ages. As a Sword Master, he knew no better way to examine and master his inner self. The trouble was that the results were disappointing.

He'd tried practicing different sword techniques, swinging his sword all day, and even meditating. None of it had let him control his ability to see constellations. He couldn't even activate it deliberately. It wasn't entirely without results—the foreign sensation had lessened a little—but the progress was so slow that, at this rate, he'd have to keep swinging his sword for a full ten years. No wonder he was irritated.

"Tsk. Do I need to find another way?" Limon scratched the back of his head. He was a swordsman, but he didn't believe swordsmanship could solve everything. Swordsmanship was ultimately for fighting, and there were others who specialized in complicated problems like this. The trouble was that he didn't want to ask them for help. Of course, having already joined hands with his old enemies in the Seven Dragons Society, he had no real reason to refuse anyone else's help, but...

"... All right. I'll put that on hold for now." Limon settled the matter in his mind. He'd only been practicing for a few days. It was too early to conclude that it wasn't working, and he was in no position to go around meeting other people carelessly. "Can't do much of anything until this damn treason charge is dealt with."

Clicking his tongue, Limon glanced at the calendar as something occurred to him. 'Come to think of it, is that today?' He counted the days, checked his memory, and found he still had time. Leaving the training room, he muttered to himself, "Let's see. I can't be bothered to go all the way back to my room just to watch some TV. Somewhere decent to watch it..."

As he walked, Limon narrowed his eyes and glanced to one side. "Oh, right. There's that place."