It had simply been an act of healing. The king's newfound reserves of mana and his remade body were incidental benefits. The essence of what I had done was to heal his wounds, nothing more.

I had only wanted him to live. That was all. I had never sought a reward, or anything beyond that. Yet that selfless act had brought an unexpected reward.

Dragon Slayer. My original body. After remaining unresponsive as though sealed away, it had finally reacted—though not at all as I had hoped.

Light blazed forth. When I returned to my bedchamber after treating the king, my original body suddenly began pouring out streams of light. At the same time, a tremendous chill flowed from it.

My fingertips froze in an instant. Bone-freezing cold crept up my hand toward my shoulder. Alarmed, I hastily drew on my power to resist it.

After I had spent quite some time fighting the cold, the brilliant light from my original body faded. The terrible chill vanished as well. It had returned to being an ordinary sword, as though nothing had happened.

It was absurd. As it was my own body, I knew what this reaction meant. It only behaved that way when something displeased it. This was defiance. A fit of temper. Though perhaps those were poor words for something so vicious it could freeze an ordinary person's very soul before they could do anything about it.

"Ha."

I had often done this myself, but being on the receiving end was infuriating. Still, my bewilderment outweighed my anger. What disconcerted me was the strong likelihood that the thing displeasing my original body was me.

A body rejecting its own soul. It was more than absurd. It left me at a loss.

Regardless of my bewilderment, the damned thing remained quiet, as though it had never caused a fuss. It was as still as it had been when I first found it again. But it was not the same as it had been then. Its earlier silence had come from indifference; this stillness came from the slyness of someone watching another from hiding.

I was certain it was watching me. The strange gaze I occasionally felt was proof. No doubt it was assessing my worthiness.

"You insolent little bastard."

Who else in the world treated their other half like this? Absurd as it was, part of me understood.

The body I occupied was hardly an ordinary case. Even all the knowledge from my centuries as a sword and my experience raising countless knights had not been enough. Only after taking an elixir had I barely managed to become a Master. Remaking my body afterward had helped me overcome its hopeless aptitude to some extent, but not entirely.

It was still woefully inadequate to catch the eye of an exalted being that had shared in countless [Myths] and [Heroic Poems]. Normally, it would not have reacted at all, let alone thrown a tantrum. But now I possessed deeds and stature that could compensate for my body's deficiencies. The stature of a hero, earned by slaying the Warlord, and the many other deeds I had accomplished stood behind me.

Reject me for my body, and my stature gave it pause. Enter into a pact without hesitation, and my soul gave it pause in turn. Too valuable to discard, yet unappealing to accept just yet. That must have been how my original body saw me. Unable to do either, it was simply venting its temper.

I doubted I would have acted any differently in its place. Before I knew it, I had accepted its reasoning.

The question was why it had started taking an interest in me now. Until very recently, it had not reacted at all, no matter how I held or swung it. Nothing about me had changed since then. Or so I thought.

But I was wrong. After turning the matter over and over, I finally understood. The answer lay in my friend's dying request.

["Please, look after my descendants."]

Four hundred years ago, my friend had asked me to care for his descendants, and I had promised I would. Then he had breathed his last. I waited for someone to come to me so that I could fulfill that promise—and inadvertently fell asleep. For four hundred whole years.

Meanwhile, the kingdom my friend had founded became little better than a vassal of that Empire I could never hate enough, and his descendants lived through generations of humiliation and dishonor. It had not been my intention, but in effect, I had broken my promise to him.

It felt deeply unfair. I had excuses, too. First, it was not that I had refused to keep my promise; I had never had the opportunity. My friend's descendants had shut me away deep inside the palace and never sought me out.

Second, the Mad Dragon had been a mighty being, and fighting it had drained a considerable amount of my power. I, too, needed time to recover what I had lost. Though it was certainly my fault that I had failed to wake even when my friend's descendants finally came.

Aware of my own failings, I had worked to put things right. I had poured all my strength into restoring the kingdom, however belatedly. I had believed that would fulfill the obligations of the pact I had forgotten.

But it had not. Despite my efforts, the pact remained unfulfilled. My friend had asked me to look after his descendants, not his kingdom.

Strictly speaking, all my efforts had been for the Leonberk Kingdom, not the Leonberk family. I had never done anything directly for my friend's descendants. With one exception: saving the dying king.

At the time, I had only wanted to save him. In the end, however, that act had averted a setback that might otherwise have befallen me. The king's wounds were not the only thing I had healed. My own soul, slowly suffering damage without my knowledge because I had forgotten the pact, had been healed as well.

I laughed. I had saved the king, healed my soul, and gained a true silver vial. Three rabbits with one stone—how could I not laugh?

But only for a moment. I stopped laughing, lifted my original body, and stared hard at it.

"You won't get to act so high and mighty for much longer."

My original body quivered at my words, as though it could not believe its ears.

Ignoring that, I gripped it as though throttling it by the neck and growled.

"I'm not free of the pact, and neither are you."

As long as the blood of the Leonberk family flowed through my body, it would eventually have no choice but to accept me. And when that happened, the immense power it held would be mine as well. I could not help smiling at the thought of that approaching day. I laughed aloud.

Then I abruptly stopped, my expression stiffening.

"Honestly. I'm acting like a madman."

There was something ridiculous about threatening my own body.

I stayed holed up in my bedchamber for a while. My original body's frequent tantrums made it impossible to go anywhere. Thinking of it as a necessary process, I cheerfully indulged its sulking. Four days into this secluded struggle, Karl came to see me.

"There you are. I hear you've been busy lately."

"His Excellency Count Stuttgart keeps summoning me."

I had heard rumors that the Commander of the Royal Knights had his eye on Karl as his successor. Apparently they were true. That stern old knight would hardly summon him without a reason. I was about to jokingly offer my congratulations in advance when Karl suddenly grew grave.

"Some rather troubling rumors have been circulating in the palace lately."

"Rumors? What ru... Hold on."

I broke off with a grimace. My original body had begun throwing another tantrum.

"Stand back."

After moving Karl back so he would not get caught up in it, I immediately raised my power to resist the cold.

As always, it vented its temper until satisfied, then withdrew its cold as though nothing had happened.

"Whew."

I let out a long breath, expelling the cold that had invaded my body with it. Feeling someone's gaze, I turned. Karl was watching me.

"I was about to tell you about the rumors concerning the strange chill emanating from your palace, Your Highness."

With his brow furrowed and his face set in a deep frown, he looked ready to launch into a lecture at any moment.

"Oh, that? It's nothing."

"Is it really? Your right hand suggests otherwise."

Following his gaze, I saw that my right hand was frozen solid with the cold I had not yet shaken off. Frowning, I gathered mana and sent it into that hand. I clenched my fist, shattering the ice encasing it all at once.

"There. Happy now?"

Karl frowned.

"Are you practicing some particular form of training?"

"What kind of training involves freezing yourself?"

"I've never heard of any. But if it made you stronger, Your Highness, you would willingly set yourself on fire, never mind freeze yourself."

"I have no intention of killing myself at such a tender age."

My consistently flippant replies only deepened the furrow in Karl's brow.

"Then what in the world is that cold?"

After a moment's thought, I discreetly showed him my original body.

"This fellow's been throwing a few tantrums."

Karl suddenly went pale.

"Cast that sword away at once!"

"This is the royal house's treasured sword."

Karl froze.

"Your Highness, if you cannot discard it, at least keep your distance. That chill I felt just now was far from auspicious."

He lowered his voice as he spoke, his gaze fixed on my original body. He was looking at it as though it were something sinister—a cursed object. And that was not just my imagination.

"There was much talk that this sword was what drove His Highness the Third Prince mad. The thought that it may bear some curse unknown to us fills me with unbearable concern."

Karl did indeed seem to believe my original body was a demonic sword. Of course, it was, but these tantrums were different from what had happened with the Third Prince. He had been nothing more than a sacrifice. I, on the other hand, was a party to a pact, not a sacrifice. Even if my original body found me profoundly displeasing.

"It's fine. You just saw for yourself. A little cold like this poses no threat to me."

"I understand this is not the first time."

Looking deeply concerned, Karl began pouring out his account. There had been the sudden eruption of cold in the middle of the night, when the knight on duty had come to my bedchamber and found me lying frozen solid in bed. Then there was the time I, who never missed a meal no matter what, had sent my food back untouched. A maid, finding it strange, had checked the dishes and discovered they were frozen solid.

I frowned, inwardly cursing my original body for choosing to throw a tantrum in front of Karl, of all people. He worried enough already.

"It's fine. It's fine."

"But if you should come to harm..."

"Honestly, I told you it doesn't bother me."

Fine, fine—no matter how often I said it, Karl would not stop lecturing me. At this rate, he would be nagging me all day.

"Karl."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"This is Dragon Slayer's way of testing whether I am worthy to be its master."

"What do you..."

"The founder of this kingdom went through the same process."

Karl started and closed his mouth at my solemn words. It was not a lie. Whenever my friend's excessively righteous conduct frustrated me, I really had thrown tantrums like this.

Invoking the founder's name proved more than effective. It worked a little too well.

"Your Highness..."

Karl looked at me with eyes full of reverence. He often did, but today it was especially pronounced.

"Indeed, who but Your Highness could ever earn Dragon Slayer's recognition? This is a feat none of the late kings achieved. I, Karl Ulrich, can only marvel again and again at your abilities."

It was not that they had failed to win recognition. I had simply been sleeping too deeply. Looking at Karl's face, filled with the blind devotion of a zealot, I swallowed those words.

"I must inform the others at once."

"There's no need to go that far..."

"His Majesty is deeply concerned. I hear he has been worrying constantly that you may have overexerted yourself during his treatment and suffered some ill effect."

As he spoke, Karl began shifting in his seat, ready to rise. I let out a helpless chuckle.

His gravity and consideration had earned him great trust among the Royal Knights. He was so taciturn that the maids were said to pine for even a chance to hear his voice. It was by no means unpleasant to see such a man make this much fuss whenever I was involved.

If I left him to it, he would probably start shouting the moment he left the room that the royal house had finally produced a master for Dragon Slayer.

"It hasn't fully acknowledged me yet. Let's wait a little longer before telling anyone else."

I intended to avoid the bustle for a while and spend some quality time with my original body, so I silenced Karl with a suitable excuse. And so I managed to avoid the commotion—until people seeking me began pouring into the kingdom.