Serik collapsed before he even realized he was falling. His vision blurred, his legs gave out, and the last thing he saw was Rudren grinning down at him with his chipped tooth and bloody lip. The world tilted sideways, then everything went black.
Jons caught him before he hit the ground. He checked Serik's pulse, then lifted the boy into his arms with practiced ease. His eyes shifted to Rudren. The red-haired assassin flinched backward like a rat cornered by a lion.
Jons did not need to speak.With a single chop to the back of the neck, Rudren went limp.
Jons dragged the unconscious assassin across the yard with no more care than one would show to a sack of moldy potatoes. Inside the house, he opened the cellar door with his foot and tossed Rudren down the steps. The body hit the floor with a thud. Jons didn't look down. He closed the door, locked it, and went upstairs to tend to Serik.
Morning came.
Serik bolted upright in bed, panting, remembering the moment the dagger stopped at his throat. His chest tightened. He leapt out of bed and practically flew down the stairs, feet slapping against the wood.
"Jons! Jons—where is he!?"He skidded to a halt, eyes wide. "Where's that assassin? I want to fight him again!"
Jons set down a cup of tea and raised a hand. "Young master. Sit."
Serik obeyed immediately, though he still shook from adrenaline.
Jons studied him with quiet eyes. "Before you ask for another fight, you will listen. Yesterday, you showed spirit and courage. But you made too many mistakes."
Serik gulped and nodded.
"You fixated on his dagger instead of his shoulders," Jons continued. "His shoulders tell you the real direction of attack."
Serik leaned forward, hanging on every word.
"You also stepped too close without guarding your center. And when you attacked his wrist, you overcommitted your weight. Had he wanted to stab you instead of knock you down…" Jons stopped speaking and let the silence answer the rest.
Serik lowered his head. "I… understand."He looked up again. "Then how should I fix it?"
For the next hour, Jons demonstrated movements slowly, adjusting Serik's feet, his posture, his balance. Serik repeated each correction carefully. His eyes shone with focus.Jons watched him with a strange mixture of pride and melancholy. He is still a child, the butler thought, but children can be shaped with enough pressure.
When Jons finally stood, Serik did too."Are we going?" Serik asked, chest tight with anticipation.
"Yes," Jons said. "It is time."
Outside, Rudren stood trembling near the wall where Jons had positioned him.His hands were tied, but not tightly enough to prevent fighting.Just tightly enough that running was pointless.
Serik inhaled once, then stepped forward.
Rudren swallowed loudly. "Y-You're… you're insane if you think I'll lose twice—"
Then he looked at Jons, who simply folded his hands behind his back.
Rudren straightened immediately. "O-Okay, fine. I get it. Fight the kid, or die. Round two."
Serik's heart pounded.This was real.This was happening again.But something in him had changed overnight — the fear was still there, but now it had purpose.
They faced each other on the grass.
Jons gave a small nod.Begin.
Rudren moved first, surprisingly fast for a man who had spent the night unconscious in a cellar. He dashed forward low, aiming to sweep Serik off his feet. Serik jumped back in time, but stumbled slightly.
Correction, Jons thought behind him. Do not retreat blindly.
Rudren pressed the advantage with a diagonal slash. Serik ducked, rolling under it, and came up on his feet. The movement was clumsy but effective. Rudren whistled. "Not bad, kid."
Serik didn't answer. His breath was controlled. His eyes stayed on Rudren's shoulders like Jons taught him.
Rudren lunged with a stab—
Serik sidestepped—
Rudren twisted suddenly, reversing the direction of the strike.Serik barely blocked with his forearm and hissed at the sting.
Rudren grinned. "You're learning. That's cute."
Serik dashed in with a punch. Rudren leaned back with ease, then slashed at Serik's ribs.
Serik pivoted, avoiding the full cut, but still felt the dagger skim his shirt.
Jons thought to himself, Better. Much better.
Serik launched a kick aimed low. Rudren hopped back. Serik followed with a jab at his throat — Rudren parried it, but with less precision than before.
Serik felt it.A small opening.
He stepped forward, aiming directly at Rudren's center—
But Rudren snapped a knee up into Serik's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.Serik gasped, doubling over.
Rudren raised his dagger, ready to slash downward—
Serik rolled at the last second, dirt flying, heart racing, and kicked at Rudren's ankle.Rudren stumbled.
Serik jumped up and punched him across the jaw.
The assassin staggered back, shocked.
Jons raised an eyebrow slightly. Good. He does not freeze anymore.
Serik advanced—but too quickly, too recklessly. Rudren regained balance and countered with a sharp elbow directly into Serik's cheek.
Serik fell to the ground hard.
He pushed himself up, dizzy, vision shaking.Rudren stood above him, smiling proudly.
"That's two wins for me," he gloated. "I told you, kid. I'm just better."
He turned to Jons with a smug grin. "See? I—"
A metal glint struck the dirt in front of his foot. A small spoon, thrown with casual force.
Rudren froze when the spoon struck the dirt in front of him. He turned slowly, eyes wide, but this time his expression wasn't arrogant — it was nervous.
He swallowed hard. "…May I leave now?"
Jons tilted his head slightly, then shook it once, calmly. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Rudren. His eyes, sharp and unblinking, locked directly with the assassin's.
"No," Jons said softly. "You may not."
Rudren opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to speak under that cold gaze.
"You will fight the young master for one month," Jons continued, tone steady and merciless. "Every day. If, by the end of that month, you possess more victories than him… then you may walk away with your life intact."
Rudren stared, stunned, then gave a shaky laugh. "Th-That's all? That's the deal?" He grinned, confidence returning quickly. "Yeah, fine. No problem. I'll do it. I accept."
He accepted without hesitation.A foolish move — but desperation makes cowards bold.
Serik groaned softly and pushed himself off the ground. His cheek was bruised, his lip was split, his ribs screamed — but his eyes burned with something brighter than pain.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, steadied his breathing, and stepped back into position.
Rudren blinked at him. "…You're getting up again?"
Serik nodded once. "I'm not done."
Jons stepped back, folding his hands behind him. He said nothing more.
Serik and Rudren faced each other, both exhausted, both hurting, both refusing to step down.
The wind blew across the yard, carrying dust and tension with it.
Serik clenched his fists.
Rudren tightened his grip on his dagger.
Both of them inhaled.
Both of them glared at the other.
And both said at the exact same moment, voices overlapping:
"I'm going to win."