"I'll fix your insomnia. How about it?"
"..."
Haviel clenched his fist without realizing it.
It felt like getting smacked in the head out of nowhere with a hammer.
'You know about my insomnia? Lord Lloyd? How?'
The chronic insomnia that had plagued him for years.
He'd never mentioned it to anyone.
No, he'd never let it slip to a soul.
He didn't even remember ever showing it.
"What do you mean by that?"
An awkward smile formed on Haviel's lips.
"Insomnia? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hmm, really?"
"Yes."
"Tsk tsk tsk. Haviel, are you pretending not to know right now?"
"Of course not."
"You're not?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you smiling? And so awkwardly, too."
"Pardon?"
"You know what? This is the first time you've smiled in front of me without that fake grin."
"..."
"Whoa, now that I pointed it out, you wiped that smile right off. That's what makes it so obvious. You're flustered, huh? Tsk tsk, over something like this."
"..."
"No point pretending when it's so obvious. Let's make this clear. I'll cure your insomnia. In return, you teach me swordsmanship. Sound good? I think it's a pretty fair deal."
"..."
Haviel fell silent.
Honestly, he was flustered.
Chronic insomnia.
It had started tormenting him out of the blue three years ago.
He didn't know the reason or cause.
One day, his senses had just become hypersensitive.
The chirp of a single grasshopper.
The rustle of branches in the wind.
Even the faint crinkle of his sheets as he tossed and turned.
Every sound reaching his ears.
Every sight entering his eyes.
Every touch on his skin.
Even the subtle scents with each breath.
All of it stabbed into his senses with excruciating clarity.
Even with his eyes closed, he could feel every vein in his eyelids.
The pulsing in his ears stabbed at him every second of every moment.
In short, all his senses pricked at him like needles 24 hours a day.
He couldn't fall into a proper sleep.
Tossing all night until exhaustion let him doze off at dawn—that was his entire night's rest.
No solutions worked.
He'd tried everything, to no avail.
It had been three years already.
A pain he'd hidden and suffered alone.
Or a vulnerability he hadn't dared reveal.
He just wished for one peaceful, deep night's sleep.
'And he knows about it? This wastrel young master? How?'
Haviel's expression hardened coldly.
Lloyd's eyes gleamed slyly.
'How? Because I read the novel.'
Haviel was the protagonist of the novel Iron-Blooded Knight.
He'd read the novel carefully and remembered it.
He knew almost everything about Haviel, down to the smallest detail.
The insomnia was no exception.
'You don't know the cause of your insomnia right now. But I do.'
Swordmaster syndrome.
That was the root of the insomnia.
'As your swordsmanship nears Swordmaster level, all your senses become abnormally heightened. It's a natural phenomenon humans go through when stepping into superhuman territory.'
Haviel's case was the same.
At just 17, he'd reached upper Sword Expert.
That's when the Swordmaster syndrome began.
He spent every night tossing in agony.
Yet he remained clueless about the cause for a long time.
Only one reason.
He was from the countryside.
'In a rural backwater like this, even mid-level Sword Experts are rare, let alone upper. Heck, scour most kingdom capitals, and you'd find maybe two or three at upper level? So no way to come across info on Swordmaster syndrome.'
If this were a world with the internet.
'A quick search on something like Naver Knowledge iN would've done it.'
But this world was different.
Knowledge passed through limited networks or books.
Or murky rumors hard to verify.
No other ways to learn new info.
That's why in the novel, Haviel only figures out his insomnia's true nature two years from now. And overcomes it three years after that, by sheer chance.
'That's what I'm speeding up for him.'
He knew the method.
So, without fail.
"I'm confident it'll work. What do you say?"
"Do I have to answer right now?"
"Well, not an obligation."
Lloyd stabbed his fork into the salad.
"Don't get me wrong. This isn't arm-twisting. Just give it a shot and trust me once."
"Trust you, Lord Lloyd?"
"Yeah."
"..."
"Good is good, right? This is when people build trust. Forge constructive relationships through it. Help each other in tough times. That's social life, life itself. Right?"
"..."
"Why the sour face?"
"..."
"Do I look like a con artist saying this?"
"Honestly, a bit."
"You don't trust me that much?"
"Yes."
Haviel nodded firmly.
Lloyd smacked his lips.
"How about this, then? Let's do an acrostic poem."
"An acrostic, you say?"
"Yeah. Builds trust, too. You start the syllables, I'll follow."
"What..."
"Then let's do 'trust.' Go on, start."
"..."
"Come on."
"...T."
"The loyal knight Haviel, my trusted blade, will you believe in me?"
"N."
"..."
"Sudden acrostic poems? If you thought cheap tricks like that would work, you're mistaken."
"Whoa."
"More than that, I have a question for you."
"Sigh, tsk. What?"
"Why have you been carrying around that summoning magic book lately?"
Haviel's gaze shifted to the table in front of Lloyd.
Basic Summoning Magic Tome.
The book Lloyd had been reading even during the meal.
"Oh, this?"
Lloyd chuckled.
"Just reading it out of boredom."
"Pardon?"
"Just reading. That a problem?"
"..."
Haviel shut his mouth.
Lloyd's smile deepened.
"Haviel, your intentions are way too obvious. Trying to change the subject like this?"
"I was merely asking out of curiosity."
"Whatever. Let's get back to what we were saying."
"..."
"So, you won't trust me?"
"That's right."
"Why not?"
"No particular reason."
"Just don't trust me?"
"Yes. I just don't. Is that not allowed?"
"..."
Counter after counter.
Haviel wasn't one to take lightly.
Lloyd grinned.
"You think you just landed a hit on me, huh?"
"Not especially."
"Really?"
"Yes. I was simply being honest."
"Fine, got it. Let's end 'today's talk' here."
"Today's talk?"
"Tomorrow's talk for tomorrow."
Lloyd set down his fork.
He finished eating.
After that, he leaned back in the resting chair, engrossed only in the summoning book.
He didn't spare Haviel a glance.
Didn't speak to him, naturally.
Even when the maids cleared the dishes and left.
He kept at it afterward.
In the bedroom, only the quiet sound of turning pages echoed.
All the while, Haviel faithfully stayed by Lloyd's side.
With a slightly more complicated expression than usual.
The night deepened.
♣
Days passed.
The ondol room construction progressed smoothly.
Under Sir Bayern's apt supervision, the soldiers moved with even greater precision.
On the first day, they'd barely moved one cartload of loess.
But over the days, they changed.
Stamina built up.
Strength grew.
They got the knack.
Now they handled two cartloads with ease.
Thanks to daily moderate labor, rest, and proper nutrition.
The skilled workers picked up even more techniques.
Like sponges soaking water.
Or sweet-and-sour pork batter mercilessly absorbing sauce.
They quickly absorbed the new knowledge and concepts Lloyd taught.
Thus, the first house was completed without issue.
The second house onward went even smoother.
No need to stay on-site all day anymore.
Just visit once a day.
Check if the site was running properly.
If construction followed the blueprints.
No oversights or mistakes.
A general inspection, and things ran themselves.
This freed up plenty of time to use productively.
Namely, hounding Haviel.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"Yes, soundly."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"You're terrible at lying."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"No way."
"What no way."
"..."
"You know? You show it big time when you lie."
"Specifically, what part?"
"Want me to tell you? Nah."
"..."
"If I do, you'll act to hide it next time."
"No."
"No?"
"Yes."
Haviel momentarily averted his eyes while answering.
As expected, the guy had no talent for lying.
Lloyd chuckled.
"Still no. Won't tell an insomniac."
"..."
"Acting all cocky when you can't even sleep."
"..."
"Feeling bad? Pathetic? Then accept my offer."
"No."
"I'll make you sleep soundly."
"Still no."
"Can't trust me?"
"That's right."
...and so on.
But Lloyd never gave up.
During breakfast, he'd suddenly ask.
"Hey, Haviel?"
"Yes, Lord Lloyd."
"Sleep well last night?"
"..."
"Accept my offer already?"
"No."
Walking the hall, he'd ask again.
"Hey, Haviel."
"Speak, Lord Lloyd."
"Fine keep tossing and turning?"
"..."
"So accept the offer."
"I refuse."
On the way to site inspection, too.
"Oh, right. Haviel?"
"Yes, Lord Lloyd."
"What's it feel like staying up all night?"
"..."
"Starting to consider my offer?"
"Not at all."
Even during dinner, out of nowhere.
"Hmm. Haviel?"
"...Speak."
"You enjoying the insomnia deep down? Endorphins popping off? Feels good?"
"..."
"Pervert, pervert."
"..."
Even lying down to sleep, he'd swoop in.
"Groan, Haviieel?"
"..."
"Can't sleep tonight either, huh?"
"..."
"But I'll sleep soundly instead. Grateful? Happy?"
"..."
"Hey, mister? Stop glaring and answer."
"Sigh, fine."
"Fine what?"
"I'll accept Lord Lloyd's offer."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Lloyd shot up.
Haviel bit his lip.
He was utterly fed up now.
Hounded all day like this—it was torture.
His nerves were so frayed he couldn't even doze off anymore.
'Of course, I don't actually trust Lord Lloyd's offer.'
Lloyd Frontera.
Not someone to trust.
But to stop that endless mockery and questioning?
This seemed the only way.
"This acceptance comes with a condition: only if Lord Lloyd truly cures my insomnia. So curing it comes first."
Of course, it wouldn't happen.
He had zero expectation Lloyd could do it.
Better to accept, let it fail, and be done.
Cleanly make him give up.
'Don't want to teach swordsmanship.'
He couldn't trust Lloyd.
Just recently, he was a daily drunk causing trouble.
He'd shown some change lately, but who knew how long?
His bad habits could resurface anytime.
'Teach swordplay to a guy like that? Ridiculous.'
Better to hand a knife to a child.
With that thought, Haviel said.
"So prove it first, Lord Lloyd. Prove you can cure my insomnia."
"Alright, good. Have a seat here first?"
"Understood."
Haviel sat in the resting chair as directed.
And inwardly sneered.
He'd seen Lloyd clearing his throat.
'Don't tell me he's gonna sing a lullaby.'
A lullaby.
Pathetic.
At the same time, conviction hit.
No miracle of sound sleep tonight.
But the moment Lloyd opened his mouth.
That conviction began to crack.
"When applying the specified stress corresponding to the yield strength fy to rebar and conducting a tensile test, if the strain is 0.003 or less, the design strength of the rebar can remain at fy without reduction."
'...Huh?'
Incomprehensible words.
Plain everyday speech.
No mysterious foreign tongue.
Our language.
Yet somehow, he couldn't understand a word.
And it kept going endlessly!
"...However, the yield strength cannot be designed higher than 5,500 kgf/cm². This is because the yield strain at a yield strength of 5,500 kgf/cm² is nearly equal to the ultimate strain of 0.003 on the compression side of concrete. And..."
'...'
Somehow, listening made him zone out.
This was the real world.
Yet his mind drifted into haze.
"And regarding rebar quantity... blah blah blah... excluding slabs needing straight rebar... such and such... rebar ratio P is the given rebar cross-section... this and that... minimum rebar ratio ρmin = 14/fy or greater... blah blah..."
'...'
Drowsiness set in.
Body floating lightly.
Consciousness slipping away.
Boundaries of reality and space blurred.
Resistance was futile.
Eyes wide open? No.
Twitching fingers? No.
Nothing obeyed.
'Can't... fall... asleep...'
"...Here, fy's unit is kgf/cm²... mumbling mumbling... the reason for minimum rebar ratio... yal-li-yal-la... to prevent sudden flexural failure... flexural members and 0.10fck·A or... sha-la-ri-sha-la..."
'...'
This was a major's textbook recitation with sleeping-pill-level destructive power(?).
That was it.
Haviel's eyes glazed over.
Eyelids slowly drooped.
Consciousness fluttered away.
His whole body slumped in the chair.
He fell perfectly asleep without knowing it.
A triumphant smile formed on Lloyd's lips.
'Just like that scene in the novel.'
The day Haviel first overcame his insomnia in the story.
He'd accidentally overheard a complex magic incantation reading.
That low, endless drone lulled him to sleep unwittingly.
Just like now.
Now Haviel would never forget the taste(?) of this comfy deep sleep.
He'd become unable to sleep without specialized textbook lullaby service.
Lloyd's smile turned pleased and wicked.
'Now your swordsmanship is all mine.'
(End of Chapter 10)
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