I Start with a Bad Hand!

“Goodness, how could the Imperial Family send the Prince here—”

“Hey, keep your voice down. He might hear you.”

Back then, Icarus had been shaped in ways he hadn’t desired, often hurting others without meaning to.

Sent to various countries and territories under the guise of studying abroad, Icarus found himself unable to truly learn anything. Whether the Empire had sent secret orders or not, foreigners avoided him, and with no one by his side, his education came solely from books.

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m here to study anyway.’

Icarus reassured himself as he painstakingly read through incomprehensible texts. However, the world inscribed in those letters differed from the ever-changing real world, causing him to stumble often. And just when he began to grasp the foreign language, he would be sent elsewhere.

The final stop was the Kingdom of Lucero, completely severed from the Empire. By then, Icarus harbored a growing bitterness within. It wasn’t surprising, given the poor timing and unfavorable conditions of his upbringing.

During these days of nurturing a bitter seed, the Empire called him back. News of his proficiency in swordsmanship, which he had taken up to manage his anger, had reached the Imperial Palace. Thus, he was abruptly appointed as the commander of the 9th Imperial Knights, a position he had never desired.

‘Did the Imperial Family even have a 9th Knights?’

Icarus looked indifferently at the roster of knights. All were commoners without titles, either too young or too old. The absence of knights in their prime suggested that those capable either left or died before reaching their potential.

Later, he learned that the 9th Imperial Knights were nicknamed ‘The Empire’s Cleaners.’ They were tasked with handling persistent yet minor threats at the borders—creatures and nuisances the Empire found bothersome but not significantly dangerous. Upon learning this nickname, Icarus began to wonder if he himself was seen as something to be ‘cleaned up.’

“Commander, here’s today’s report.”

The eyes of the 9th Knights as they looked at Icarus were hard to define. Their attitudes and postures were respectful, and no one looked down on him for his youth. However, that didn’t mean there was no gossip about him.

“He’s so young, almost too young….”

“Of all places, why did he come here…?”

Deliberately making his footsteps loud as he approached, the whispering voices fell silent. Disliking this, Icarus always stayed behind until the end, swinging his sword. He didn’t want to be underestimated by the knights who often looked at him with ambiguous expressions. He wanted to prove his worth in his first expedition.

The day of the first expedition arrived. On that day, the battle he had been anticipating, he didn’t manage to swing his sword even once.

***

‘That’s a monster.’

The first monster Icarus encountered resembled a snake. Except for its size, it wasn’t much different from an ordinary snake, so there was no reason to be afraid. He had received detailed reports about the monster’s shape and size, and thought it might be manageable.

‘What is that fishy smell…?’

However, when faced with the gigantic snake, Icarus realized for the first time that monsters had their own unique scent. He learned that as the monster moved, it made a sound as if its joints or bones were snapping. He noticed that its eyes were covered by scale-like lids instead of normal eyelids. Finally, when the monster opened its mouth towards him, it felt like he was about to be swallowed into a cave.

“Commander.”

Caleb, the real commander of the 9th Knights before Icarus returned, stepped forward from behind him. With a calm expression, Caleb organized the knights and awaited Icarus’s command. Feeling all eyes on him, Icarus managed to speak.

“…As planned. Everyone, defeat the monster as planned.”

The order was given in a shaky voice, but the knights moved in perfect synchronization. Their swordsmanship seemed natural, as if they had trained together for a long time, excluding Icarus. Then, in a flash, the monster that had paralyzed Icarus was torn apart by the knights’ swords. In the forest, reeking of the monster’s scent and blood, Icarus clutched his sword like a lifeline, barely managing to stand while suppressing the urge to vomit and tremble.

It was then that he saw something wriggling beneath the monster’s severed head—small snakes or perhaps parasites.

“Commander. Finish it off.”

You need to deliver the final blow. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Icarus slowly approached the incapacitated monster and dealt the finishing strike.

“Prince, I mean, Commander.”

A knight with a slick face stepped into the tent, making his presence known. He was always at the back of the ranks, yelling commands rather than engaging in actual combat, more familiar with razors and kitchen knives than real swords.

Icarus neither looked at him nor responded, but the knight didn’t mind and swiftly extended something towards him. It was a steaming cup of tea.

“It’s mushroom tea. I thought you might feel a bit uneasy. I felt the same way when I first saw a monster. The first one I faced was a chick-like monster, and I fainted when it made eye contact with me. Uh, where are you going?”

As Icarus abruptly stood up from the desk, the tea spilled precariously across the surface. The knight, flustered and unable to keep up, was stopped by someone.

“Tristan, stop.”

It was the knight who always watched Icarus train from a distance. His name was…

“Maria, but—”

“Leave him be. Let him be alone.”

Icarus, distanced from them, couldn’t discern the tone in their voices. He left the bustling tent filled with knights and headed deep into the forest. No one stopped him.

All the credit for that day’s expedition was given to Icarus. For the first time, the Imperial Family bestowed a commendation upon him.

Life was miserable.

***

It was long after that when Icarus finally swung his sword properly. As always, the 9th Knights subdued the monsters, allowing Icarus to deliver the final blow. This routine earned Icarus, at the age of fourteen, nicknames like “Bloodthirsty” and “Madman.”

‘None of it is appreciated.’

Initially, Icarus wondered what they were thinking. Were they pitying him? But they always maintained a detached demeanor.

‘Idiots. Why don’t they claim their share? If they had just taken the credit they gave to me, they could have moved on from the 9th Knights to anywhere else.’

Every time he couldn’t refuse the credit thrust upon him, Icarus felt his insides rot. But as these accolades accumulated, so did Icarus’s time in the capital. His audience with his mother grew longer, and finally, his name, not his brother’s, was spoken by the Emperor.

‘Or maybe they want to impress me?’ Icarus thought. That idea seemed even more foolish. Trying to gain favor with the second prince, who had been pushed aside by the Imperial Family to this outpost, was ridiculous. They were idiots, incapable of thinking ahead, which was why they were stuck in a dead-end knight order. His twisted thoughts refused to straighten.

He expected these feelings to persist, had the Imperial Family not forced the 9th Knights into a real battlefield to capitalize on his victories.

In that war, Icarus lost many of his subordinates. No, he killed them. They died because they tried to protect him. If they hadn’t, they might have lived.

For the first time, Icarus witnessed people dying right before his eyes. Until then, he had fought countless imaginary enemies made of straw, wooden dummies, or just in his mind. But facing real people was different—they were just humans. They had a life that couldn’t be described as straw or wood.

“Eliminate the threats to the Empire.”

That was the command given to him and his knights, yet Icarus couldn’t swing his sword properly. The reality of killing living, breathing humans weighed more heavily on him than the abstract idea of eliminating threats to the Empire. He couldn’t kill those on the opposing side, which meant he couldn’t save those on his side.

It was then that he learned how easily people could die and how stubbornly they clung to life.

The 9th Knights protected him through his hesitance, suffering many casualties, but the Empire won the war. Standing on the corpses of his comrades and enemies, Icarus gained accolades once more. During a celebratory dinner with his family, he couldn’t swallow a single bite of food. Every time he held a knife, the sensation of the battlefield came back to him. The blood-soaked memories tainted even the half-cooked steak before him.

He realized something was wrong with him when he couldn’t keep any food down for more than three days. Elius, noticing his odd behavior, forcibly entered his room and made him eat, threatening to tell the Emperor and Empress if he refused.

After finally filling his stomach for the first time in days, Icarus felt a crushing sense of despair.

‘I want to die.’

The desire to die overwhelmed him. Unable to face the congratulations and the celebration, Icarus shut himself in his room, away from everyone.