I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 51: The Sinister Sword (4)

When I returned to the inn with Sirien, Isha was curled up asleep in the corner.

Judging by her appearance, it seemed she had been anxious the whole time we were gone and finally collapsed from exhaustion.

Well, from her perspective, it was understandable.

If someone had suddenly opened that door and walked in, her life would have been in immediate danger.

Even though Requitas’ inn was known for its strict confidentiality regarding its guests, there was no guarantee that it would remain so under these circumstances.

Of course, we had the confidence to rescue her immediately if the worst happened.

We had reassured her that everything would be fine before leaving, but it seemed she hadn’t fully believed us.

Sirien gently tapped Isha to wake her up.

“Ah! I wasn’t sleeping!”

“Uh, it’s obvious you were.”

“...”

Such an awkward sight.

Sirien looked at Isha with a blank expression, while Isha averted her eyes, embarrassed by the scrutiny.

“Come on. Let’s get you changed.”

Isha followed Sirien more easily than she did me.

It wasn’t that she ignored or disrespected me—after all, I was the one who had directly rescued her, and she clearly felt gratitude and tried to be polite.

But there was a subtle fear in her demeanor, as if she found me difficult to approach.

She tried hard not to show it, which made it hard for me to ask about it.

Still, it was fine for now, as Sirien was taking good care of her.

Even back at the castle, Sirien had always been good at looking after her younger siblings.

Despite pretending otherwise, she had a caring nature.

Isha soon returned in fresh clothes, and we laid the food we had brought onto the table.

Isha nibbled on her sandwich, while Sirien and I, having already eaten on the way back, sipped tea with light snacks.

Sirien had brewed the tea herself.

She still wouldn’t allow me to make it.

Honestly, I didn’t think there was that big of a difference.

The only difference was that my tea lacked a bit of aroma and had a slightly bitter taste.

But Sirien had the nerve to call it “sewage water.”

‘Maybe next time, I should brew it and trick her into thinking it’s from somewhere else. Even she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.’

After all, tea is tea—how different could it be?

Even though Isha must have been hungry, she was only picking at her food.

It looked like she had something on her mind.

I waited patiently, and eventually, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Um, I have something to confess.”

“C-Confess? Out of nowhere?”

Sirien jumped in surprise.

Isha looked even more startled.

“No! Don’t do it! Absolutely not!”

“Huh...?”

Despite Sirien’s outburst, Isha gathered herself and decided to continue.

She hesitated, glancing nervously at Sirien, who was now avoiding my gaze, her face flushed.

With a small nod from me, Isha found her courage again.

“I know a way to contact my father.”

“Didn’t you say all contact methods were cut off?”

“I wasn’t lying. All the usual methods we used within the guild were blocked. We don’t even know how they were discovered, and most of the people who managed those communications are... dead.”

Just 1-2 weeks before we arrived at Requitas, Crescent Moon was hit by a large-scale attack from the sewer rats.

Isha’s father, the guild leader, Russell, barely escaped with his life after suffering a severe injury from Millen. The guild itself had been decimated.

Although some of the survivors might have gone into hiding, just as Isha said, all of the guild’s communication methods had become useless.

It was now uncertain whether the remaining guild members would even respond to a summons—frankly speaking, the situation seemed hopeless.

Sirien assessed the situation coldly.

“I don’t know what methods you were using, but you’d better give up on them. Anyone who’s been caught has probably spilled everything by now.”

“I know. The captured guild members must have been tortured, and I’m sure someone has already talked.”

“Yet you’re still telling us this. That must mean there’s another way, right?”

“Yes. This method isn’t one we used within the guild.”

While Crescent Moon was known as a guild that dealt in information, they also dabbled in assassinations.

The difference was that Crescent Moon’s approach was far more sophisticated than other organizations.

They employed assassins with skills so refined that they were difficult to find anywhere else.

This was all thanks to Russell, the guild leader.

He had always kept his past tightly sealed, so even Isha didn’t know what he had done or where he came from.

But one thing was clear—he was a true assassin.

In hindsight, it was only natural.

In the novel, Isha had definitely been active as an assassin, and someone had to have taught her the craft.

It definitely wasn’t me or Sirien.

“It’s embarrassing, but this… this is something I used when I fought with my dad as a kid. It’s really personal, so no one else would know about it. I’m not even sure if my dad would still remember.”

* * *

As a child, Isha hated her training.

From the simplest things like walking and breathing, to finding blind spots in human vision, and swinging a sword silently—every bit of training seemed to reshape her actions, making it grueling and utterly boring.

At first, it wasn’t too bad.

She liked the praise she received from her uncles in the guild. They said she had talent, which motivated her.

But motivation alone couldn’t erase the pain.

For some reason, Russell wanted his daughter to become the best assassin, but that was never Isha’s dream.

The reason she participated in the training despite hating it was that she had come to terms with the environment she was born into.

In Requitas, weakness meant death. Especially for someone like Isha, whose weakness could also lead to the death of those around her.

The stronger Isha became, the more brutal the training became.

Her initial enthusiasm had long since died out. The only comfort she had left was one childhood friend.

The exhausting days repeated endlessly, like they would never end until the moment of death.

Eventually, one day, Isha’s patience snapped.

She decided she’d rather leave for some unknown place than live like this. And so, she ran away.

She headed to a hill outside of Requitas, a place her mother, who had died of illness when Isha was young, had once told her about.

It was her first time running away, so of course, she had no plan.

When night fell, she was cold and hungry.

Even so, she didn’t want to return, so she sat crying in front of a snow-covered camellia tree.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while. You’re too old to be throwing tantrums like this, you know.”

“Why did you come? To scold me?”

“I should scold you, but I’ll put that off for now.”

Russell draped a thick coat over Isha’s small body.

Then, he wrapped his arms around her.

For once, his tone wasn’t harsh. His voice was soft and gentle.

“I think I’ve pushed you too hard. Has it been difficult for you?”

“...Yes. I don’t want to train anymore. I don’t want to fight and get hurt, and I don’t like how the uncles look at me like I’m some kind of monster.”

They talked a lot that day.

Isha had expected to be scolded, but instead, Russell shared a meal with her and spent time together.

For the first time in a long while, Isha truly felt happy.

The next day, training resumed as usual.

But Isha could endure it, because of one promise.

If the day ever came when she couldn’t take it anymore, she would leave a message on the rock on that hill.

And her father promised he would listen earnestly.

* * *

The place Isha led us to was an untended field.

There were a few small hills and the occasional flash of red camellia flowers.

Camellias were Sirien’s favorite.

A flower that blooms even in winter. When they bloomed in the snow-covered garden, people in the castle would whisper that the flowers resembled the lady of the house.

The Duchess used to watch the scene with satisfaction, and Sirien never shied away from the affection she received.

In Rehaim, there was never a winter garden without camellia trees.

Remembering that, I picked a flower and handed it to Sirien.

At first, she looked surprised, but soon enough, she broke into a wide grin.

There’s truth to the saying that women appreciate flowers as gifts.

“Razen, do you know what the camellia flower symbolizes?”

“No idea. Other than the famous ones like roses, I don’t know any. Why, is it something strange?”

“No, it’s not strange. But I’m not telling you. If you’re curious, find out yourself.”

Sirien was in an unusually good mood.

She tucked the flower into her hair and wore a bright smile all the while.

“I’m going to keep this flower when we return. I’ll press it and use it as a bookmark.”

“I didn’t realize you liked flowers so much. I thought you preferred trees when we were kids.”

“Huh? Why would you think that?”

“Well, you rarely went into the flower-filled parts of the garden. You always walked toward the trees.”

Even when we stayed in the cabin, Sirien had said she liked the scent of pine trees.

That’s why I always assumed she liked trees more than flowers, but her response to the camellia was surprisingly positive.

“Our garden was always filled with a strong floral scent. That’s why I preferred walking along the edges where the trees were. You remember that?”

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Hehe. True. Still, you deserve a reward for remembering. Come here.”

What I received was another camellia, just like the one she’d tucked in her own hair.

She gently placed it in my hair, mimicking her own gesture, and for some reason, I felt embarrassed.

With Sirien’s soft laughter and smile, I didn’t have the heart to take it out.

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