I Start with a Bad Hand!

My arrow was aimed directly at the eyes of the coachman, who had no idea what was happening. I couldn’t release the drawn string, but I couldn’t relax the tension in my arm either.

‘What the hell is going on?’

The common sense telling me never to release this arrow and the collective pressure of the group watching me were pulling me in opposite directions.

“You can hit the target from this distance, right?”

The leader of the “bear” hunt asked with a displeased look, even though my face was masked, he could tell I was an amateur. Surrounded by hunters, each holding a large weapon, I nodded silently.

“When you hear the signal from the lookout, aim for its eyes first. Of course, the bear’s ‘hide’ is too thick to kill it with one arrow. But you need to stop its ‘movement’ so the others can take action.”

There was no need to explain how important my role was. The rough, heavy hand on my shoulder drove the point home. Despite the time that had passed, I could still feel its weight. I didn’t have time to think about why Frank took this job or why he asked me to help.

‘What happens if I don’t shoot?’

Merely wounding the coachman seemed a temporary fix. Even if I failed, the hunters—no, armed robbers—would charge down and kill everyone in the carriage bearing the emblem. I’d be an accomplice. And if they failed because of me, they might take out their anger on me.

‘If I die here, who will find me? There’s no proper investigation agency or forensics here.’

They could bury my body in the forest, and no one would find it. My sweaty hands began to ache. Now, they were shaking so much I could feel it.

“Shoot!”

One of the hunters, unable to tolerate my hesitation, aimed his bow at me. Before he could release his arrow, he fell helplessly to the ground.

‘What?’

An arrow was lodged in his torso. As I watched the blood pool beneath his lifeless body, I instinctively covered my mouth.

“Ugh, ugh!”

“Gah!”

The sudden screams echoed through the forest, and the coachman, who had been calmly driving, looked bewildered for a moment. Seeing the hunters falling like leaves from the trees, he turned pale and quickly urged the horses into a gallop.

And next to me, knights in royal attire were methodically stacking the bodies. The hunters who had been shouting and raging at me earlier were now lifeless, waiting to be transported by carriage.

‘Of course, I just met these people today, and they were trying to take lives…’

Seeing them piled up like this was overwhelming. The visceral impact of seeing bodies stacked like sandwiches was far more intense than anything I could have imagined. The experience was not just visual. The thud of bodies being stacked, the unfamiliar stench, and all those elements combined made me feel sick.

“Urgh.”

In the end, I vomited into the forest. Icarus silently patted my back.

***

Icarus explained that all individuals connected to this bandit operation had been captured and dealt with. It wasn’t hard to guess what “dealt with” implied. The imagery of the “disposal” flashed in my mind, and I had to run to the bathroom again. Icarus followed and comforted me, patting my back with a practiced ease.

‘Maybe it’s a miracle I’ve survived in this world so far.’

Given how recklessly I’d been living, it seemed astonishing. Despite the subjective exhaustion I felt, my life had been relatively safe. The threats made by those who opposed me, like “Wait until you’re out of the academy,” weren’t just bluster—they were prophetic.

‘Wow, that wasn’t something to dismiss lightly. It’s like a death threat.’

Seeing how fragile life is once the protective barrier of the academy is gone was profoundly unsettling. In just half a day, the people who had joined me on a makeshift vehicle were now stacked like cargo in a carriage. I didn’t want to sympathize with them, but I didn’t want to witness their deaths either.

‘Above all, the fact that lives were at the mercy of my hands… that’s just too…’

My reflection in the mirror was pale, almost gray. I lightly slapped my cheeks a few times, not that it restored my color, but to regain some composure.

‘At least I didn’t kill anyone, so that’s something.’

Their deaths were unfortunate, but at least I wasn’t the one who killed them. I didn’t need to dwell on “what ifs.” I needed to focus on what to do next, whatever that might be.

After rinsing my mouth and leaving the bathroom, Icarus was making tea with practiced ease.

“Tea seemed better than coffee,” Icarus said. “Your heart’s already racing.”

He held a strange tea container. When I gave him a questioning look, he replied with an “Ah.”

“I asked your friend, Horatius. You three always drink tea when you meet… I thought you might need something soothing right now.”

Emphasizing the word “friend,” he gave me a sideways glance. The brand on the small container he was shaking was indeed one that Irene liked.

“…Thanks.”

Not knowing what else to say, I took the tea he made for me. The light fragrance of floral tea rose in the air.

“Is it helping?”

The warm liquid calmed my nerves. As I kept sipping, he asked again, and I nodded after taking a deep breath.

“I’m really okay.”

Seeing me shrug my shoulders, a bit more relaxed, his face suddenly crumpled with frustration.

“Sure, you always say that. You play the part of the suffering hero, and everyone falls for it.”

“That’s not true. And this time, I had valid reasons and was promised fair compensation—”

“And look where that got you? You ended up in this mess, almost getting yourself hurt?”

He seemed genuinely angry. His words spilled out, almost as if he’d been waiting for this opportunity.

“Sometimes you do incredibly foolish things. Like during the autumn hunting festival, you put yourself in that situation when you could have—”

He continued, bringing up old incidents, lecturing me as if he had been holding this in for a long time. As his voice filled the room, I thought to myself sarcastically, I’ve heard “idiot” more times today than I care to count.

“What were you thinking?”

Looking at his worried face as he sighed and scolded, I suddenly felt the urge to answer him honestly.

“I was thinking of you.”

That stopped him.

“I was thinking of you.”