Chapter 91 : Omen (9)

Chapter 91: Omen (9)

Maybe I might become the culprit's next target.

That thought first occurred to me right after I heard Sister Roberta’s advice.

Ah, I was almost certain now—I would definitely be targeted.

That certainty came after I finished speaking with Kyren Amiel.

‘There were two reasons Allen was framed as the culprit, weren’t there?’

First, at the time, Allen had no alibi—no witnesses or evidence to prove his innocence.

Second, every one of the victims, if you traced things back, had some direct or indirect connection to Allen.

What mattered most was the second point.

Big or small, people who had any connection to Allen were attacked.

Even among the victims I clearly remembered from my past life, the pattern was obvious.

First and foremost, there was Kyren Amiel, Allen’s half-brother.

Then, the senior student from Hilts who had hung around with Kyren Amiel and persistently harassed Allen.

The faculty member who publicly humiliated Allen.

And finally, Professor Yul Runberg.

‘There hadn’t been any publicly known link between Professor Yul Runberg and Allen at the time, but…’

He probably took a similar interest in Allen back then, just as he did now.

And since he was also on friendly terms with Count Amiel, it wasn’t unreasonable to think he was somehow connected to Allen.

Anyway, in my past life, anyone remotely associated with Allen had been attacked almost indiscriminately.

Especially those who had conflicts with him or had insulted him in some way...

In those so-called grudge-filled relationships, the attacks were all the more thorough and brutal.

Honestly, if you thought about it even a little, the assumption that “people related to Allen are being attacked, especially those with grudges, so Allen must be the culprit” was too sloppy to even be called a theory.

There had even been speculation: If Allen really were the culprit, would he act so recklessly and blatantly, leaving no evidence behind while still drawing suspicion to himself?

‘Those theories disappeared after Professor Yul Runberg was murdered and then the Third Prince Behad was attacked.’

More precisely, as the case escalated from a simple assault to a full-on murder and even an attempted regicide, people clammed up out of fear of being caught in the crossfire.

To cut the long story short, the conclusion was this:

Back then, the Third Prince was practically the only person openly close to Allen, and his attack had far-reaching consequences.

But this time, unlike in my past life, the substitute was…

Someone close to Allen whose attack would still create some impact.

In other words, I expected that I would become the prey.

I couldn’t compare to royalty, but after the recent Dungeon Field Class incident, I had become a notable figure in more ways than one.

And that prediction, right now, had come true with eerie accuracy.

"…How did you know?"

The person who dodged my punch by leaping backward muttered in disbelief.

She still had Cecilia’s face and was speaking with Cecilia’s voice.

"I told you, your acting was awful."

Dusting off my hands, I answered calmly.

Though she had dodged, there had been no sensation, no weight to the hit at all. Unnaturally so.

That meant the opponent had exceptional skill.

‘A woman? Or a small-built man.’

I quickly assessed my surroundings, but still sensed no presence.

This was Arpentia Academy. This kind of anomaly was highly unnatural.

Whether it was sorcery or magic, she was using some technique to ward people off.

And that meant she wasn’t some sloppy thrill-seeker or impulsive criminal.

‘The pieces are coming together.’

Normally, someone like me—a third son of a newly risen noble house—would be a worthless target.

Even if someone wanted to target me, I wouldn’t have been a priority.

But now, I was one of the victims of the Dungeon incident, along with Cecilia.

Because of that, I had inadvertently caught the attention of the Holy Sun Church, the Academy, and even the Imperial Family—though temporarily.

If I were attacked under those circumstances, the incident would inevitably reach all three of those entities.

‘Which means, the attacker is connected to someone pretty high up among those three. Or they know the truth behind the Dungeon Field Class incident.’

One more thing.

Let’s assume the attacker was targeting “someone close to Allen” and “someone influential.”

If we’re just ranking by priority, wouldn’t Cecilia be the more obvious target?

So why go after me first?

That pointed to several implications.

It wasn’t that they feared retaliation from touching a daughter of one of the Three Dukes.

If that were the case, they wouldn’t have dared touch the Third Prince in the previous life.

No, they wouldn’t have even dared commit murder and assault within the Academy to begin with.

‘…At least one thing is clear now.’

The assailant.

Or one of their accomplices had realized that Cecilia was a Spirit Master.

Anyone sane wouldn’t dream of attacking someone surrounded by such a vast army of powerful Spirits.

Which meant…

— …Chiiik.

I heard the rasping breath of the spider in my inner pocket and calmly began loosening my body.

Because the one who had done this to the poor thing—or their accomplice—was right in front of me.

You’re already dead by my hand.

I mouthed the words silently, making sure I didn’t act in haste.

Carefully, with not a single deviation, I began circulating my divine power through my body.

So that I could unleash it at a moment’s notice.

"The world’s gotten so heartless, even acting doesn’t work anymore."

He—or she—muttered bitterly.

Glancing at the dagger they had dropped while fleeing, they sneered at me.

Still using Cecilia’s face and voice.

"I mean, seriously? You beat up a woman without hesitation? Right in the face, with your fist? And you still call yourself a man? What if I had really been her, huh?"

I didn’t respond.

I simply examined the dagger I had taken from them.

A thick, dark bluish liquid coated the blade.

Poison.

I didn’t even need to check.

It was the kind of weapon favored by those who specialized in ambushes and sneak attacks.

Without hesitation, I flung the poisoned dagger far behind me.

Clang. The metallic clatter echoed into the air.

"You’re not even going to answer me? So cold… Wait, are you scared speechless? Or did you get turned on while hitting me? Then again, there are freaks like that in the world. The prettier they look on the outside, the more disgusting they are on the inside."

Just like you.

She burst out laughing as she said it.

Saying things Cecilia would never say, acting in ways she never would—with her face, with her voice.

In the image of the hero I had admired more than anyone.

You’re truly dead by my hand.

I mouthed the words silently once more.

Whether the bastard knew what I was thinking or not, they just kept mocking me in her voice.

“But this girl, man, she talked so much before she died. Even while I was peeling off her face, she kept whining about how much it hurt, screaming for me to stop.”

I didn’t answer.

It wasn’t worth responding to such a clumsy provocation.

Instead, I took off my outer coat and carefully laid it on the ground.

To make sure the spider wouldn’t get caught up in the fight.

“Lian, Lian. Where are you, help me. Please save me……”

Perhaps determined to grate on my nerves, the bastard began to act out exaggerated agony in Cecilia’s voice.

“I don’t want to die. It hurts so much. Why won’t you help me? Please, save me. Li—!?”

If I listened any longer, I felt like my ears would rot.

Without hesitation, I lunged forward and aimed a kick at the bastard’s face.

They ducked in a hurry, avoiding the blow.

But I hadn’t expected to land the hit anyway, so I wasn’t disappointed.

“Hh-up…!”

Maybe because they dodged by a hair’s breadth.

We were now close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Seizing that moment, the bastard spun and swung an arm at me.

Click.

With a mechanical clank, a slender blade extended from their wrist.

Even in that brief instant, I could clearly see the glistening dark-blue liquid coating the blade.

But just as I hadn’t landed a blow, I hadn’t allowed one either.

With a slight sidestep, I evaded the approaching threat and moved again.

In a situation like this, agile footwork was one of the most effective tools.

And thanks to my decent footwork, I had escaped death countless times before.

“What?!”

From their perspective, we had been face-to-face—so it must’ve felt like I suddenly appeared behind them.

I didn’t want to give them the time to process or react.

I channeled divine power straight into my leg as if I were slamming it in.

Then, with all my strength, I swept my leg like a whip into theirs.

Thwack!

This time, unlike before, a deep and savage sound rang out.

Even I felt a dull pain in the leg I used to kick.

“Ghk…!”

The bastard staggered with a short gasp, clearly overwhelmed by the pain.

Not willing to let the moment pass, I reached for their collar.

In response, they extended their arm to block me, but I caught it hard and fast.

Thunk.

Pain stabbed through my palm so sharply my eyes twitched.

It wasn’t my imagination—an awl-like blade had pierced through my palm and jutted out the back of my hand.

A hidden wrist guard beneath their clothes.

From it, concealed blades had sprung out like a porcupine’s quills.

In a way, I had willingly shoved my hand into those blades.

“Ahaha! Bet you didn’t see that comi—…eh?”

The bastard, who had started laughing triumphantly, suddenly froze with a blank expression.

Maybe it was the strange noise from the purification blessing I had prepared in advance neutralizing the poison on the blade.

Or maybe it was the sight of the wound on my hand bubbling violently, almost boiling over.

Or perhaps it was because I gripped their arm tightly, healing the wound with divine power like I had expected it all.

“Who knows. What do you think?”

Just to add—it’s not like I didn’t know.

I already knew they’d target me.

I knew they had the ability to imitate others’ faces and voices.

I knew they’d have poisons and hidden devices all over their bodies.

Because I’d already seen it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears, and experienced it in my own flesh.

These kinds of ambushes—honestly, I was sick to death of them.

“How about this one, then?”

I hadn’t said it to get a reply.

I immediately yanked the arm I was gripping with all my might.

The bastard’s body flew toward me helplessly, and in a flash, they lost their balance completely.

Now they couldn’t pull any stunt like earlier, flinging themselves back to soften the blow.

Meeting their panicked eyes with mine, I let out a small scoff.

“Why don’t you keep blabbering like before?”

Crash!

A louder thud echoed than when I had kicked their leg.

The bastard took a full punch to the face and went flying through the air before crashing unceremoniously into the ground.

They said nothing.

No, more accurately, they couldn’t say anything.

I spat out the blood, tinged with poison, that I’d sucked from my palm.