In fiction, characters are at their happiest while being written into the pages of a new chapter.
If they could speak to their authors, they would likely cry out:
— Please give me more screentime, damn it!
Unfortunately…
For Seven Hart, the 'page of birth' and the 'page of death' were one and the same. To put it simply, he died a few paragraphs after the first mention of his name.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The clock ticked past twelve, midnight, marking the 7th day of Bruma and the fateful day of Seven Hart's introduction in the novel.
There was no mention of the exact time or place of his death except the day. There were no details of how he died either, nor a mention of who killed him, or how.
Because of that—
"...Damn it all. Jollyeo jukgetda."
—Seven tried his best to remain lightheaded and awake. If he succumbed to sleep, there was no telling if a blade might suddenly cut his throat.
Truth be told, he was gripping a wooden sword beneath the blanket.
Although he was already denied from the possession of an iron sword, he had already taken proper precautions— the number of knights patrolling the premises had been doubled after he felt a sudden trepidation.
It was the best excuse he could manage.
He couldn't exactly say, "I'm supposed to die today, so I need more guards."
Knock, knock!
Iria entered the room.
"Forgive my intrusion, my lord."
Iria received no response, but that was exactly why she had said that— to confirm that the lord had fallen asleep. She then sneakily made her way beside him.
Reaching out, Iria tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. But as she looked at his sleeping face, her composed expression faltered, turning troubled.
"I… I apologize, young lord, but I must do this."
Taking a deep breath, Iria placed her hands over his chest.
Crackle!
Iria cast a healing spell.
A soft green light then emanated from her palms, casting warmth to the lord's body. For a moment, his lips twitched, but Iria didn't seem to notice.
From his memories, Iria had been performing this session every single day. A healing spell cast at midnight. According to her, it was essential for his health. It healed his body, but it also made his head foggy for a while.
Minutes passed.
His thoughts grew sluggish, and his eyelids felt unbearably heavy. The warmth lulled his body toward sleep while dulling his mind.
And today, of all days, was the worst possible time to fall asleep.
Thus, Seven desperately tried to think of something to keep himself awake.
Eventually, he imagined a very specific scene: the seven husbands of his mother wearing maid outfits while performing the chika dance and the zero-two dance.
Iria soon finished the spell.
However, just as she was about to leave, she noticed the tip of the wooden sword jutting out from beneath the blanket.
"You truly are determined, my lord. It is my first time seeing someone hold a sword even in their sleep."
"..."
Iria sighed.
Despite Seven's frantic inner thoughts screaming "not the sword" and "don't take the sword," Iria gently removed it from his grasp and placed it on the desk.
"I shall take my leave now, my—"
Knock, knock!
"Iria…"
It was Heinrich on the other side of the door.
Hearing him call her name, Iria moved with practiced grace, easing the door open just enough to slip through without waking the young lord.
"Yes. How can I help you, sir Heinrich?"
"My apologies for barging into the manor without the young lord's permission. I will gladly accept my punishment later. For now, I must ask for your presence."
"Pardon?"
Iria tilted her head.
"Galahad, one of the knights assigned to the village, has arrived at the gates in desperate need of aid. The village's starlit lantern has been shattered. As the only mage in these lands, your presence is needed to restore it."
Iria glanced back at the sleeping lord as a heavy weight settled in her chest.
The village was important, but leaving felt like abandoning her most precious duty. But if what Heinrich said was true, the village was already under attack. Her altruistic nature would not allow her to ignore it.
"Regarding the young lord's safety, I will leave four knights to guard the manor, one of them is the senior knight overseeing the tournament. His strength is second only to the commander and myself."
"Please do, sir Heinrich."
Thus, the two departed toward the village.
Heinrich's duty was to protect the young lord, but he was still a knight. He could not simply turn a deaf ear to the cries of innocent civilians.
Moreover, with the commander away, responsibility for the camp rested entirely on his shoulders. Most of the knights stationed here were sons of this very village. If their homes fell, their spirits would fall with them.
Besides, with a senior knight left behind to guard the manor, a knight of the radiant stage, the young lord's safety was still as secure as it could possibly be.
Ten minutes passed.
Seven slowly rose from his bed and quietly walked to the desk to retrieve the wooden sword.
"Fudge. How could you leave your lord in the crucial stage of his life?!"
"Is the village far more important than the lord you serve?!"
"Damn it all."
He cursed under his breath, careful not to let the knights guarding the door hear him. From what he could tell, two knights stood outside the door while the other two likely guarded the manor entrance.
The problem was that the village incident felt far too cliché to be a coincidence.
It had to be a diversion.
"Is this how you lost your life, Seven Hart? Damn it."
His mind raced for five whole minutes. By now, Heinrich and Iria should have reached the village.
Suddenly, a chill crept up his spine and the hair on his arms stood on end.
He walked to the door and pressed his ear against the wood for a better hearing. Outside, he could just barely make out the muffled voices of the knights in conversation.
— "Thierry, about the upcoming finals of the tournament, do you think the young lord has a chance against Lythian?"
— "I cannot say for certain, but perhaps by a stroke of fate. The young lord still carries the blood of the Harts, after all."
— "You're right. But man, this peaceful life will soon be over. A few more weeks, and I get to see my wife in the main dukedom again. I wonder if my children are all grown up now."
— "Enough of that and keep your focus. The wind had strangely turned eerily silent."
— "Come on, what is there to worry about? It has been—"
Thunk!
The knight never finished his sentence.
The tip of an iron sword punched through the door, stopping just inches from the young lord's eye. A heart was attached at the tip, and blood began to drip from the cold metal.
"Wha—?!"
Seven gasped, instantly clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.
Clang, clang!
Outside, it seemed like the senior knight had engaged into a battle against the one responsible for piercing the other knight's heart.
But Seven's world narrowed down to the silver point of the sword.
His pupils dilated so sharply it hurt, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird as the scent of blood filled his nostrils.
"Run… I have to run…"
His grip on the wooden sword trembled.
No matter how much resolve he thought he had for this fateful day, in the end he was still just a teenager facing death for the first time.
"Damn it, damn it… stop trembling…"
His fingers tightened around the wooden sword.
It slipped anyway.
Clack, clack!
The sound of the sword rattling on the floor seemed to snap him back into control of his body.
Without thinking, he scrambled toward the window and forced it open.
He climbed out, cursing under his breath again as his trembling hands clutched the ledge of the window box. The plants inside were black and withered, likely from the herbal tea that had been poured there day after day.
It was the second floor.
If he slipped, he would likely break something.
He glanced down and spotted the patch where the snow had gathered the most.
"...Damn it all."
He jumped.
The snow swallowed his fall. Pain shot through his legs, but nothing felt broken.
He quickly looked left and right.
If the attackers had entered through the door, some of them might already be near the gate to keep watch if Heinrich or the other knights are coming back.
A second later, he looked toward the peak of the mountain in the direction of the camp.
Then, he ran.
He could grab an iron sword in the camp. That might not be much, but it should do until she arrives.
"Faster…. run faster, damn it!"