“It’s really hard to meet you, maybe because you are famous,” a man spoke.

As he was returning to the keep, the sun slowly set and the sky turned scarlet. Underneath the Lionheart’s flag, which was hung high, a shadow abruptly rose beneath a rampart.

Eugene silently stared at the shadow. A man stepped out of it with an easy-going smile on his face.

“Hector Lionheart,” Eugene said.

Hector slowly approached Eugene, holding out his hand for a handshake.

“I hope I wasn’t being rude to the main family’s son.”

“I didn’t think it was rude.”

Eugene didn’t leave Hector hanging. As they briefly shook hands, Hector grinned.

“If I could do as I please, I would’ve liked to say hello to you when you arrived a while ago,” he said. He was sitting on the rampart across from where Eugene was standing.

The first encounter with Hector had been brief. They had met each other’s gaze, smiled, and waved. That was all.

“I didn’t want to play smug among young people just because I am a few years older than you. Besides, only the people who participated in the same Bloodline Continuation Ceremony went to greet you earlier, right? It would have been pretty awkward if I had been there.”

“I assume you have an interest in me, am I right?”

“Everyone does.”

They let go of each other’s hands. During that brief contact, however, Eugene could figure out many things about Hector.

‘He’s strong.’

A martial artist’s hands—their stocky hands, their calluses, and the thickness of their joints—said a lot about the martial artist. Depending on what kind of weapons a martial artist used, their hands ended up taking a certain form.

“We seem to be a little bit alike,” Hector spoke, smiling.

Eugene also agreed with him. Hector’s hands appeared to be those of a swordsman, but also looked like a spearman’s. In other words, his hands resembled Eugene’s.

‘It seems that he uses any weapons he can get his hands on. He also seems like a skillful hand-to-hand fighter.’

His neatly refined...