Chapter 93: Something to Forget

The Demon Slaying Sword was created by the first swordmaster, the Sword Emperor, and perfected by the last swordmaster, Limon. Its foremost principle was ‘cognizance’. The dilation of one’s pupils. Their strengths and their subconscious, instinctive actions—the Demon Slaying Sword could see through and analyze it all. It was a sword technique derived from the analysis and understanding of all things and played a significant role in Limon’s prediction abilities.

‘I won’t be able to translate this with swordsmanship.’

Yet Limon was about to throw all of that out the window.

Chaotic noise filled the air. The sound of Li Chingwei, Yo Ouin, and Yoo Na-kyung hitting the junk pile, combined with the abyssal black violin, was more akin to loud noise than music. Different rhythms created a lawless, auditory turbulence.

Reminding himself of Eugene’s singing, Limon shifted the bow that had a mind of its own.

‘Don’t think. Feel it.’

“...!”

A powerful sound rang through the air. It was hard to believe that it came from a violin.

Shocked by it, Li Chingwei and Yo Ouin’s hands stopped temporarily, while Yoo Na-kyung had dealt with Limon long enough to remain unfazed. The two quickly resumed their hitting.

Limon adjusted the violin’s melody according to the noise created by the junk pile. He combined the separate sources of dissonance into one, turning the noise into a melody.

There was no more chaotic noise as it turned into music—like turning lead into gold or melting sand into gems.

‘Even noise has rhythm. Even the most disordered result follows a law.’

Limon grasped at the conclusion he arrived at. Why was loud noise considered noise? Because the law behind it was unfounded.

So long as he pushed the noise to reveal the law governing it, an orchestra could use the sound of raindrops or even an odd engine in a performance.

The only problem was finding a melody in those chaotic sounds. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack—and Limon had to repeat the process thousands of times. It made the task practically impossible.

But he was going to do it. He used his imagination and premonition instead of inference and prediction. Like an honorable archer shooting a bird more than 40 kilometers away, he used his intuition and instinct to turn the dissonance into music.

‘Then that’s the same as knowing how many spoons they have. All you have to do is infer the person’s habits, personality, and financial status,’ Limon thought back as he achieved something impossible to do with logic—something beyond superhuman and in the realm of a ‘sixth sense’.

Li Chingwei’s advice was a joke. It was impossible even for a swordmaster. But was it? Limon put it to the test.

‘There are three criminals. One of them is the leader making the plans.’

He was describing someone he had never met before, but the Demon Slaying Sword and seeing the aftermath of their murders told him enough about their character.

‘More of a sociopath than a psychopath. He thinks of murder as a job but takes pleasure in the result and people’s reactions… That means he’ll target something of a bigger scale. He enjoys the mental game once he starts making enemies… An exhibitionistic criminal.’

That was what Limon could deduce and what he used to predict their targets.

‘What if he tried picking randomly to make himself unreadable?’

Limon changed his perspective.

‘He could have used a tool. A tool he found easily and can use conveniently. If I can perfectly tell where, how, and the extent of how he uses that tool…’

It was a ridiculous hypothesis—winning the lottery would be easier—but Limon persisted anyway. He created his melody beyond logic and possibility, leaving everything to emotion.

His music instantly changed. There was a technique lying dormant in the deepest depths of the abyssal black violin. A person renowned for his compositions instead of his playing, a legend who composed the greatest of music despite being called past his prime, had put it in—and Limon’s determination to create a new impossible melody was awakening it.

“This is…”

The rhythm became more organized as Limon focused on creating his music against the violin with a mind of its own.

As an absolute ruler, he had accepted challenges for centuries, but he’d never initiated one before. However, he was challenging himself as a novice right now—to overcome the violin curse and go beyond his limits.

He resisted the mighty sound of the violin and played a sharp tune. He bound the music trying to organize itself, breathing human feeling into it. It was a brutal act for a music novice who hadn’t even learned for a year to go against a maestro who had made music history.

But as he continued, the disorderly melody came together as it formed a clear sound. And at its climax, Limon captured an image of a person within the music, and he knew. Of the countless pieces of junk laid across the floor, two dice were the closest sound that resembled what played in the man’s mind.

He could see a vision of a man throwing two dice onto a neat table, choosing the order of his targets from a list according to the number rolled. He watched the man write numbers beside the subsidiaries on the list. He saw the man laugh.

And the brilliant melody crumbled as reality swept over /invite/reaperscans

***

“...Whew.”

Limon removed the violin from his shoulder, wiping sweat from his cheeks. Despite having the stamina not to break a single drop of sweat after performing all day, a single ten-minute performance was enough to make him look like a wet rag. The piece he just played required that much intense focus.

‘Ha. The Demon God was tougher.’

Limon softly shook his head, carefully setting down the violin like he was managing a deadly weapon.

“Pen and paper.”

No response.

“Give me a pen and paper, I said.”

Yo Ouin was frozen in shock, needing Limon to repeat himself.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“…Here.”

He started writing a list. Returning the items to Yo Ouin, he spoke drowsily, “give this to the dummy brain. It’s the list of upcoming targets.”

It was pretty unexpected, but Yo Ouin did not doubt Limon. He looked at him with an inexplicable expression, opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“I’m going to shower and sleep, so don’t call for me.”

“All right. Rest well.”

“[Huh? Wait, boss…!]”

Yo Ouin would not find the words as Limon grabbed hold of Yoo Na-kyung and left the room. Yo Ouin watched him walk away with a troubled gaze, waiting for his silhouette to disappear.

He turned to the girl with a bright smile saying goodbye to Limon.

“Princess, that was…”

“Forget it.”

A calm voice answered as if she had been waiting for him to say something.

The immediate answer forbade him from asking anything, and for a moment, Yo Ouin doubted his own heart.

“…You are telling me to forget this?”

“Yo Ouin. What you just saw or felt is not important. What’s important is that the Master of Swords just told us the culprits’ next target.”

Only remember the important things. Everything else was unnecessary. So act like you saw nothing, like you felt nothing—even if you did.

Just forget it.

“Well? Did he not?”

Yo Ouin understood as he saw her cold, settled eyes contrasting her usual bright smile. The princess wasn’t asking.

“If that’s what you wish, Princess.”

His answer was decided from the very beginning. As a loyal clan member devoted to the princess and keeper of all secrets as Leviathan’s manager, that was his obligated response.

Satisfied, Li Chingwei nodded and turned around.

“I truly am a fortunate child to have a trustworthy, taciturn, loyal subject by my side.”

If anything that happened today gets out, you are no longer my loyal subject.

Li Chingwei then left the room, leaving Yo Ouin all alone. He slowly turned to look at the empty spot Limon had stood at with a rigid expression.

He was a martial arts master of the past. He witnessed Limon’s power firsthand and did not think little of Limon like the youth of today’s generation. But right now, he doubted whether he knew Limon at all. For him to be capable of playing such music…

‘I don’t know.’

Was it a coincidence, or had Limon intended this? Did he always know how to do that? There was nothing Yo Ouin could know.

Even if one of those suspicions were confirmed, the Seven Dragons Association would be complete fools. That meant they knew nothing about their sworn enemy after several centuries of conflict—with one exception, perhaps.

‘Did the princess know?’

Li Chingwei forced her engagement with Limon despite the clan’s opposition. Nobody could understand her decisions, and that included Yo Ouin.

‘If she did all of this knowing the entire time…’

Now he could understand her decisions, including why she didn’t want him to discuss today’s incident.

‘Princess, just what kind of monster are you trying to marry?’

Yo Ouin could only shake his head at the Princess’s unreadable, deep /invite/reaperscans

——