The Song of Flowers - Chapter 2: The Heir of the Lord (2)

He opened his eyes, swallowing his rough breaths. His violet eyes darted around frantically before finally calming down.

“Haa…”

He let out a long sigh, running his hand through his sweat-drenched hair. His blue hair, soaked from cold sweat, flopped down onto his shoulders. Pressing his palms against his eyelids, he muttered a curse under his breath.

The same nightmare again: being chased by a black monster, eventually caught and devoured. The beast chewed and swallowed him, and all he could do was scream in agony. The pain was unbearable, but even worse was the overwhelming helplessness.

This was a recurring nightmare, one he would never escape. It was a cursed, incurable disease that had haunted him for as long as he could remember.

It was partly the reason why he became a mercenary. He thought that by flirting with life and death in the real world, he could brush off dreams like these. A foolish hope. Awake or asleep, there was no peace. His body suffered, and his mind was left ragged and frayed.

Still, there had been some benefit. His body and mind had toughened, to the point where he no longer woke screaming, tearing his throat out. There was a time when his night terrors had woken everyone else in the inn, and he’d been thrown out for disturbing the peace.

Groaning, he sat up, holding his pounding head.

‘This headache isn’t from the nightmare.’

The smell that wafted up with each breath turned his stomach—symptoms of a hangover. His last blurry memory was the sour taste of cheap rice wine going down his throat. He grimaced.

‘Damn it.’

Everything after that was a blank. He couldn’t remember what had happened, and it left him feeling even more irritated.

Sitting on the bed, he took deep breaths to settle his queasy stomach, then glanced at the bed across from his. The man sprawled out there was the reason for his misery.

“Let’s drink ‘til we die!”

That had been the cry he heard repeatedly last night. It was the same guy who had whipped up the mood, making it impossible for him to turn down drinks from all sides.

He wasn’t a fan of drinking. He hated getting so drunk that his body went limp and uncoordinated. When he had free time, he’d rather practice his swordsmanship or relax in solitude. But there were always people who couldn’t stand his solitary nature, who thought he was acting aloof.

He didn’t care about their opinions. He could handle the sneers and jabs. But his brother, who loved socializing, always dragged him into gatherings at every opportunity. Yesterday, his brother had succeeded in getting him completely drunk.

He stumbled out of the room. The cramped space barely fit two beds, and outside was a small, dingy sitting room with old sofas and a table. Despite its appearance, this was actually the “premium room” in this run-down inn.

The one thing he couldn’t stand was sleeping in close quarters with others. When he had the money, his first priority was finding a proper place to sleep alone.

As he moved to wash his face in the courtyard, he noticed a basin of water by the entrance. It was filled with fresh water, and a towel lay neatly beside it.

He paused, glancing at the door to the bedroom where the other man was still asleep. He had a good idea who had prepared the water.

“Thanks, Leon.”

He grinned and dipped his hands into the cool water. He scooped it up and splashed his face before pulling off his shirt.

His upper body, honed by countless battles, was marked with scars of all sizes, evidence of his hard life. But for a mercenary, this was nothing unusual.

However, anyone who saw his back would be left speechless.

Across his back, a large scar stretched diagonally from his right shoulder to his left waist. It wasn’t a simple slash, but the deep, brutal mark of four massive claws that had torn through his flesh. People often said it was a miracle he had survived.

To him, the scar wasn’t just a mark of injury—it was a reminder that his past self had died, and he had been reborn.

That’s why he hated letting others see it. Whenever possible, he kept his upper body covered.

After rinsing off, he carried the used water out into the courtyard to dispose of it. But he ran into someone he hadn’t wanted to meet.

Sarah, the innkeeper’s daughter, stood there, staring at him in a daze before her gaze dropped to the basin in his hands. Ron awkwardly greeted her.

“…Good morning.”

Sarah nodded, her face flushed red.

“You’re the one who prepared this, right?”

Cheap inns like this one didn’t provide services like bringing water to guests’ rooms. Sarah had a crush on Leon, so she must have brought it in for him.

“…Yes,” she admitted.

“Sorry, I used it. I’ll get some fresh water and bring it to the room.”

He had planned to use it without mentioning anything, but now that he’d been caught, he had no choice but to do the right thing. It stung a little, knowing he’d have to fetch water for the guy passed out drunk in the room, but there was no avoiding it.

“Oh… no, it’s fine,” Sarah said quickly, grabbing the basin from him.

“Here…”

She fished something out of her pocket and handed it to him. Taken aback, Ron accepted it and looked at the item. His eyes widened.

“I found this. I think I’ve seen Leon wearing it around his neck…”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Ron slipped the ring, attached to a long leather cord, into his pocket. It was their mother’s keepsake. That idiot had been careless enough to lose it.

Seeing his genuine gratitude, Sarah blushed and smiled.

She had fallen for him the moment she first saw him. She’d never encountered a man so handsome before. His long, sharp eyes and mysterious violet irises drew her in, and the sight of his muscles showing through his sweat-soaked shirt made her heart race. The more she watched him, the more she liked him.

Unlike the other mercenaries, he didn’t make lewd jokes or try to touch her inappropriately.

Sarah, normally an outspoken and wild girl, had started acting like a demure lady around him. But since he was so reserved, she rarely had a chance to talk to him. Sometimes she wished he would act like the other men and make the first move.

Summoning her courage, Sarah spoke up.

“Um, Ron, do you maybe…”

Before she could finish, a voice cut in.

“Well, things are heating up early this morning, aren’t they?”

A man with dark brown hair appeared, poking his head out from behind a tree with a smirk.

Sarah shot the intruder a sharp glare. Why were there so many people ruining her moments?! It made her just as angry as when she’d seen Leon eating the fruit she had given him to pass on to Ron. Huffing, she spun on her heel and stormed back inside the inn.

The man grinned at Ron.

“You sure know how to charm the ladies, don’t you? Everywhere you go, they fall for you.”

“Spare me the nonsense,” Ron muttered, walking past him indifferently. The man, Julio, followed him as Ron headed upstairs to their room.

“Who was that?”

“Sarah, the innkeeper’s daughter,” Ron replied brusquely.

“Oh ho, not bad! If things go well between you two, you could settle down here. Inherit the inn, perhaps?” Julio teased.

Ron didn’t bother responding, treating him like an annoying fly. Still, Julio followed him into the room, unfazed. He poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table, took a sip, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Whoa! What is this? It’s sweet! Honey water, for real!”

Before he could pour another glass, Ron snatched the bottle away.

“Don’t touch what’s not yours.”

“Oh, come on. So now you’re saying I can’t have any? Someone gets honey water served to them while the rest of us can’t even get a drink of plain water!”

Ron looked at him with mild exasperation.

“It’s not mine. It’s Leon’s. Leave it.”

“Leon?” Julio frowned.

“Who brought this, then?”

“Probably Sarah. It wasn’t here earlier, so I guess she brought it in just now.”

“Then why’s it Leon’s?”

Ron gave Julio a look that said, Are you really this slow?

“Because Sarah likes Leon.”

“Leon?” Julio’s eyes widened before he burst out laughing. Thinking of the innkeeper’s daughter blushing and fidgeting in front of Ron made him pity her a little. Chuckling, he slapped Ron’s shoulder.

“I like you, Ron.”

Ron’s expression clearly showed that he thought Julio was out of his mind, but Julio just grinned.

He’s really clueless about things like this.

Ron wasn’t slow or naive—far from it. He could see two or three moves ahead of most people, and he was excellent at controlling his emotions, rarely letting anything show on his face. His judgment was sharp, and when it came to fighting, he was bold and quick. Julio had never met anyone he’d less want to face as an enemy.

Maybe it’s not cluelessness—maybe he’s just cold.

Julio had observed Ron long enough to know that he showed utter indifference to anyone outside his personal circle. He didn’t care what people thought of him, which is why he never noticed how much attention he drew.

As Julio eyed Ron’s well-defined face, he sighed in mild frustration.

That face is wasted on him. If only I could have it!

When they were younger, Ron had a pretty face, almost like a girl’s, and he was small for his age. Most people assumed that as he grew older, he’d stay weak and frail.

But to everyone’s surprise, around the age of sixteen, Ron hit a massive growth spurt. Now, he was one of the tallest men in their mercenary group, and his strength matched his size. No one could push him around anymore.

His face had changed too. What had once been delicate became more rugged and masculine, with sharp, striking features. It didn’t take long for women to start noticing him wherever he went.

The same comrades who used to tease Ron about being too soft now glared at him with envy. They often joked that the women weren’t really interested in Ron—they were just trying to get close to his brother, Leon.

Even if Ron knew the truth, he wouldn’t care, Julio thought with a smirk.

“Is Leon still asleep?” Ron asked.

“He’s completely out,” Julio replied.

“He really overdid it last night. But you… You’re not usually a drinker, so how do you handle your liquor so well?”

“Don’t talk about it. My stomach’s a wreck,” Ron grumbled, grimacing as his nausea returned at the mention of alcohol.

“Did you know everyone cheered when you collapsed onto the table last night?” Julio chuckled.

“Ugh, people really need something better to do. You didn’t come here to talk about breakfast, so what’s up?” Ron asked, growing impatient.

“A job came in, and it’s a tough one,” Julio replied, making a circle with his fingers.

“What are you talking about? We already have a big job lined up,” Ron said, referring to the large contract their leader had secured recently. It was a well-paying job that required their entire mercenary band—over fifty men—to travel to a count’s estate in the neighboring kingdom of Saul. The job was urgent, and they had to leave in a few days.

“It won’t interfere with that. This one doesn’t need many men, just one or two.”

“What kind of job is it?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet. We need to meet with the client to get the details. But Leon’s in no shape to go, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

“Why should I meet with the client?”

“The client specifically requested someone who doesn’t look like a mercenary,” Julio explained.

Ron’s face twisted in annoyance.

“Do they want me for my looks?”

“Hey, don’t get all worked up…”

“I told you the last time we had a job like this that I wouldn’t tolerate it again,” Ron growled, his voice low and threatening. Julio quickly looked away, feeling the intensity of Ron’s anger.

“I know, I know, but the pay is really good…”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You haven’t even heard the details yet. The advance has already been paid!”

“Who authorized that?” Ron snapped.

At that moment, the door to the bedroom creaked open, and a young man with disheveled brown hair stumbled out, rubbing his eyes. The tension between Ron and Julio immediately shifted as both men turned toward him.

“Ugh… I feel like I’m dying,” Leon groaned, his unfocused violet eyes scanning the room before he weakly waved a hand and collapsed onto the sofa.

“Ro~on. Water, please,” he mumbled.

Ron clicked his tongue, grabbed the bottle of honey water, and handed it to him. Leon downed the entire bottle in one go before slumping back onto the sofa. Without warning, Ron smacked Leon hard on the back. The loud thud made Julio wince, knowing that must have hurt.

Leon jerked up with a yelp.

“What the hell?! You’re gonna crack my skull open!”

Something was tossed in front of Leon’s face. Still groggy and panting, he picked it up. A black ring dangled from a long leather cord.

“Huh? Why is this here?” he muttered, feeling around his neck. The necklace he always wore was gone.

“You dropped it, and Sarah picked it up for you,” Ron said.

“Wow, how did she even know it was mine? She’s got a sharp eye.”