Joanna felt an overwhelming urge to bash her head against the wall. Yet, mercifully, the boy's gaze finally settled on her. Biting her lip, she pressed on with her act, her voice a delicate whisper, tremulous and soft: "What… what do you plan to do with me?" As she spoke, she cast a piteous, pleading glance his way, her eyes shimmering with feigned vulnerability.
Du Wei's lips curled into a faint smile. His gaze swept over Joanna's form, but there was a mocking glint in his eyes that sent a shiver of unease through her. His look lingered on her body, yet it carried none of the hunger she expected—just a playful, almost detached amusement, as if he were toying with a curious trinket.
Before she could react, a shadow loomed and fell over her. Instinctively, she flinched, only to find herself shrouded in a soft weight. Struggling briefly, she poked her head free and realized Du Wei had tossed a bedsheet over her, draping it across her half-bared figure to conceal her enticing curves.
"When I'm handling serious matters," Du Wei said, his voice calm as still water, "a half-naked woman staring at me is… distracting." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if stating the obvious. He spared her a fleeting glance. "Whatever you're scheming, your performance just now was lackluster. I have other things to attend to, so if you're set on seducing me, you'd best use this time to think up a better ploy."
Joanna froze, as though doused with a bucket of icy water. This half-grown noble, with his piercing gaze and unruffled demeanor—by the heavens, he was no mere boy! His eyes, steady and knowing, hinted at a depth of experience that far surpassed her own.
Du Wei settled into a chair, adopting a relaxed posture. He drew out a small magnifying glass and began examining the intricate patterns etched into a piece of leather armor. With meticulous care, he sketched the magical runes onto a sheet of parchment, pausing now and then to close his eyes, lost in thought.
Joanna remained silent, her mind racing. She grappled with the enigma of this young noble's intentions while stealing curious glances at him. His pale, refined features were almost delicate, yet his tone and the seasoned glint in his eyes suggested a man well-versed in the ways of women.
"I'm intrigued by your three weapons," Du Wei remarked without looking up, his attention fixed on the enchanted leather armor. His voice was even, almost casual. "These runes on the armor—they're magical, imbued with enhancements for strength and agility. Judging by the texture of the hide, this piece is old, likely more valuable as an antique than a tool of war. And here…" He tapped a crest on the armor. "This is a family emblem. If my memory serves, it hails from a lineage under the Stuttgart system in the North. The Stuttgart clan rose to prominence three centuries ago during the empire's revival, only to decline a hundred years later, splintering into several mid-tier families. This armor likely comes from one of those northern noble houses."
His words flowed with quiet confidence, each sentence laced with an effortless authority that left Joanna stunned, rooted to her seat.
"And your curved saber…" Du Wei continued, still engrossed in the armor. "It's not a weapon suited for most women. Wielding it demands wrist strength few possess. Only the nomadic tribes of the Northwest favor such blades." He glanced up briefly, his eyes flicking over her. "Your brown hair and blue eyes mark you as a pureblood of the Roland Empire's central or southern stock—no trace of Northwest blood. Your combat style, from what I saw, leans toward swordplay, not sabers. Fortunately, that armor boosts your strength enough to wield the blade adequately, though it's… a bit of a waste." He chuckled softly. "The saber's hilt holds a magic crystal for storing mana, and its edge is inscribed with wind runes. A skilled warrior could unleash wind blades with it—something I doubt you've mastered."
Joanna's breath caught. Every word he spoke was unnervingly precise. The armor had been a gift from a lecherous northern baron, the saber from a mercenary captain—a Northwest tribesman—who'd coveted her beauty.
Du Wei rubbed his brow, his gaze shifting to the silver bow on the table. "What fascinates me most is this demon-breaking bow." He lifted it with care, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The patterns here—vertical, slanted stripes—symbolize lunar power in heraldry, the might of the moon. From what I've read, only one lineage revered such a totem: the Muen House. Seven hundred years ago, they were a force to be reckoned with, ruling half the continent at their peak, devotees of the Moon Goddess. But their kingdom fell in the great wars, and when the Roland Empire unified the land, the Muen House faded into oblivion. They're said to be… extinct."
His fingers traced the bow's smooth surface, his eyes glinting with intrigue. "So, I wonder… a small-time adventuring band's leader, with third-rate skills, possesses three rare, magically enhanced weapons—one from the North, one from the Northwest, and one tied to a long-dead noble house. Joanna, just who are you?"
Had his mentor, the erudite scholar Mr. Rosia, been present, he would have beamed with pride at Du Wei's display. To think anyone called this boy an idiot! His words, so casually delivered, wove together mastery of heraldry, genealogy, totem lore, and continental history. Most astonishingly, he spoke without consulting a single text, as if the knowledge were etched into his very mind.
Joanna, however, was simply thunderstruck. "How… how do you know all this?" she stammered.
"Books," Du Wei replied, setting the bow down with a gentle smile. "Books hold the sum of human wisdom. Knowledge is the beacon of progress. And I've been reading them since I was six."
"Six?" Joanna whispered, awestruck. "You must be a genius… Have you read many?"
"A fair few," Du Wei said with a grin. "But I'm no genius. In truth, I once despised books—hated knowledge altogether."
"Then why…" Joanna began, only to catch herself. Now wasn't the time for idle chatter.
Du Wei didn't seem to mind. He chuckled, his voice dropping to a murmur, as if speaking to himself. "There's a story: In a fine porcelain shop, the owner crafted a masterpiece, only for a careless stranger to shatter it. Guilt-ridden, the stranger vowed to create a new piece to make amends… Yes, amends."
"Amends?" Joanna echoed, puzzled.
Du Wei's smile returned, and he fixed his gaze on his captive. "You seem awfully curious about me. Were I in your shoes, I'd be more concerned with my own predicament."
"But you don't seem to mind sharing," she countered softly.
"Oh, that's because you're a beautiful woman with a fine pair of legs." Du Wei shrugged, his tone light. "Most men can't help but talk a bit more in the presence of a lovely lady—it's just their nature."
Joanna clenched her teeth, a wave of helplessness washing over her. Facing this young noble, she felt like a child herself. Every word, every smile, every glance he cast seemed layered with unfathomable depth, as if his tranquil gaze could pierce straight through her soul.
"What do you want with me?" she asked, her voice tinged with resignation.
Du Wei's smile widened. "Weren't you just trying to seduce me? Go on, give it another shot."
Her heart stirred. What did he mean? His smile, his eyes—something in them reignited a spark of boldness within her.
Du Wei rose and approached her slowly. His fingers brushed her cheek, tracing the softness of her skin with a deliberate tenderness. His touch glided down her slender neck, slipping beneath the bedsheet to rest lightly on her shoulder. His fingers were slim, soft—not coarse like other men's—but their movement carried a teasing cadence, deliberate and provocative. It was the touch of a cat toying with a cornered mouse.
Joanna trembled under his caress, her breath quickening. She closed her eyes, a soft hum escaping her lips, bracing for what might come. Then, abruptly, Du Wei yanked the sheet away. She tensed, ready to surrender to the moment—but instead…
Snap!
Her bound wrists sprang free, the sinew cords severed. Du Wei held a gleaming dagger, stepping back with a calm smile. "There. You're free to go. My men won't stop you. Your companions can leave with you—except the mage. He stays."
Joanna's eyes flew open, staring at him in disbelief. "You're… letting me go?"
"Indeed," Du Wei said, his smile effortless. "I was only curious about your mage companion, not you. The weapons? I've studied them. You can take them with you."
Joanna's mind reeled. She couldn't fathom this noble boy. "But… back at the tavern, you attacked us…"
"I told you," Du Wei said, his voice cool, "my interest lies in magic, not in you. I'm busy and tired. You may leave now—don't disturb my rest. I prefer to sleep without an audience."
He stepped back, gesturing toward the door, his meaning unmistakable.
Joanna felt as if she were in a dream. She took the dagger he offered, slicing through the cords binding her ankles. Her limbs, stiff and aching, stirred to life as she moved toward the door, still dazed.
"Oh, one last thing," Du Wei called, his voice laced with a smile. "Since fate has brought us together, allow me to offer a piece of advice."
"What… what advice?" Joanna asked, her tone unwittingly deferential.
"You," Du Wei said, his voice light as a breeze, "a girl like you should settle down. Find a good man, marry, and live quietly in some peaceful countryside with an honest minor noble. There's a saying I once heard from a distant friend: 'The martial world is perilous—step into it, and you'll pay a price sooner or later.' It's a hard path for a lone woman. If marriage isn't your choice, consider another: a vine thrives best when it clings to a sturdy tree. I suspect there aren't many left in this world who carry the blood of the Muen House."
Joanna's body jolted. "What did you say? Muen House?"
"Exactly," Du Wei said, chuckling. "The Muen House, devotees of the Moon Goddess. I noticed—your ring finger is noticeably longer than your index, and there's a slight ridge at the base of your skull. These are hallmark traits of pure Muen blood, as recorded in texts. Alone, they might mean nothing, but paired with that lunar-totem weapon? Hardly a coincidence. Care to deny it?"
For the first time in her life, Joanna felt she'd slammed into an iron wall. Even facing lecherous nobles or brutal mercenary chiefs, she'd never known such powerlessness. This young noble—could he truly see through the secrets buried in her heart with a single glance? His smile, framed by that pale, refined face, was serene yet indifferent, as if nothing in the world could tether him.
It was… devilish.
As the long-legged beauty stumbled out, dazed and shaken, Du Wei sighed and began sorting the books he'd brought along.
A soft knock came at the door, and Marde, his loyal servant, peered in, his expression hesitant. "Master, are you retiring for the night? Do you need anything? You barely ate this evening."
Du Wei caught the knowing look in Marde's eyes and chuckled. No doubt the man had been waiting outside, rushing in the moment Joanna left to check on his master. Aside from his mother, Marde was likely the one who cared for him most in this world.
"No need," Du Wei said lightly. Then, as if struck by a thought, he added, "Oh, Marde—how much coin is left in my personal purse?"
"A full thousand gold coins," Marde replied, perking up at the mention of money. "Your honored mother slipped them to you before we left, and I've kept them safe, Master."
Du Wei nodded, his voice low. "Good. I hear Kurt Province is known for its water-blue gemstones. When we arrive, procure some for me. I'd like to send them back to Mother."
"She'll be delighted," Marde said with a grin, but his tone grew softer, tentative. "Young Master, you're so clever… Others may not see it, but I, Marde, know the truth. If the Countess and Earl knew all you've done, they'd be proud. But… why…"
"Why do I let them call me an idiot?" Du Wei finished, his smile wry.
Marde's face flushed with unease, and he bowed his head. Yet he couldn't hold back. "Master Gabri is hailed as a genius, while you… Hmph. If not for you, I doubt that tutor of his would amount to much. I've seen you visit Master Gabri, teaching him to write. A genius? Bah…"
"Enough, Marde," Du Wei said, his smile gentle but firm. "I'm tired. We've a long journey tomorrow."
As the reluctant servant left, Du Wei sank into his chair, stretching with a weary sigh.
An idiot, was he?
So be it.
But he didn't belong to this world.
The noble Countess, that admirable woman, had no idea her firstborn's body now housed another soul. It was theft, plain and cruel, however unwillingly done. He owed the Rowling House—owed her, most of all, a true son. And his father, the Earl, deserved better too.
So he'd schemed in silence, shaping his brother into the "genius" they desired, then slipped away quietly. A fair trade, perhaps, for what he'd taken.
Gabri, that boy… He'd better make them proud. No more sneaking off to teach the lad to read or weaving lessons into tales. Du Wei had no patience for playing nursemaid.
To mold his brother, he'd devoured knowledge relentlessly, studying with a fervor he'd never known in his old world. All to pass it on in secret—because the Earl feared his "idiocy" might taint his younger son, forbidding them too much time together.
When Gabri, at four, proudly scrawled his name for their parents, the Earl's joy had been boundless. He'd never guessed his "fool" of an eldest son had spent countless nights teaching the boy those letters.
Or how Du Wei had spun continental history into stories to educate his young brother, fostering a mind the Earl would call brilliant. A teacher's gift, perhaps, though he'd never sought it.
An idiot? To a man who didn't belong to this world, what did such a label matter?
Not a whit.
He couldn't call strangers "Mother" or "Father" in his heart. So he'd done what he could—repaid his debt—and now, exile was his freedom.
Gabri, you'd best shine, Du Wei thought. No more midnight tales or martial chants disguised as songs. That time when you sang those complex techniques—because songs stick better in a child's mind—and stunned the Earl with your "genius"? He never knew it was your fool of a brother's doing.
I stole your son, Rowling House. In return, I gave you a genius.
This, Du Wei, is my small atonement.