I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 5

Recently, Saeorin had been feeling extremely uneasy. It was because of a certain civilized man who had trespassed into his territory. 

The man was strong—strong enough to easily deal with someone of Saeorin’s level. With such a person loitering in his domain, it was impossible not to feel uncomfortable.

He couldn’t figure out what the man’s purpose was. It didn’t seem like he was waiting for an opening to take Saeorin’s life.

Instead, the man would just sit in the paths Saeorin often traveled, and when he sensed Saeorin’s presence, he would call out to him.

Just like now.

“Hey! Stop for a moment!”

Stopping on command wasn’t Saeorin’s style. Letting out a low growl, Saeorin ignored Deidram and leapt through the trees.

Their strange encounters continued after that. No matter how often Saeorin changed his routes, Deidram always managed to track him down as if by some uncanny instinct.

The reason Deidram was pursuing Saeorin was simple: money. From a young age, Saeorin had been able to manipulate mana, making him an incredibly valuable resource.

Deidram didn’t care about his origins. All he needed was to deliver talented children like Saeorin to the Empire and collect his reward.

As a hunter who often traveled to various places, Deidram had made a habit of earning extra money this way.

His pursuit was relentless.

Eventually, Saeorin decided to talk to Deidram. The place Saeorin chose for their conversation was high in a tree—giving him a vantage point and an easy escape route if needed.

“Finally decided to talk?” Deidram asked with a grin.

“Tell me your purpose,” Saeorin replied bluntly.

“My name is Deidram. What’s yours?”

“Saeorin.”

“Nice name, Saeorin. Are you alone right now?”

Saeorin didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if he was truly alone—whether his younger sibling’s soul still lingered within his body or not.

Deidram nodded, as if accepting the silence, and asked another question.

“You’ve left your tribe, haven’t you? Are you planning to cross the mountain range again?”

At that, Saeorin turned to look at the massive mountain range stretching beyond the forest. Covered in pristine snow, the mountains marked the border between the lands of the civilized and the barbarians.

“Not for now,” Saeorin said, shaking his head.

Deidram continued to pepper him with questions—sometimes about the barbarians, sometimes about Saeorin’s thoughts on the civilized world.

It was all part of Deidram’s plan to win Saeorin’s trust.

Of course, Saeorin didn’t answer every question. He carefully picked what to answer, only responding to what he was comfortable sharing.

At some point, Saeorin found himself with a question of his own. From their conversation, it was clear the man before him was well-versed in the ways of the civilized world.

Perhaps he might know something about the man who had slaughtered Saeorin’s tribe—the White Frost Tribe.

Saeorin spoke up.

“I have something to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m looking for a man. He wore a long, black garment and wielded a slightly curved sword. His build was about the same as yours, and his eyes were somewhat fierce.”

Deidram furrowed his brow. There were far too many swordsmen who fit that description. The most distinctive detail was the “curved sword.”

“Hmm…”

Deidram crouched down, drawing a sketch in the dirt. He etched the shape of a curved sword he knew into the ground.

“Is this the sword you saw?”

Saeorin shook his head.

“It’s similar, but the blade was a little longer.”

‘So, it’s not a scimitar,’ Deidram thought, erasing the sketch and drawing a new one in its place.

“What about this?”

“That’s not it either. It’s similar, but the hilt was longer, and it didn’t have any decorations that looked like they were meant to protect the fingers.”

‘Not a sabre, either. In that case…’

Deidram drew again, this time carefully crafting the features Saeorin had described.

“How about now?”

Saeorin didn’t reply. Instead, he descended from his perch in the tree and moved closer to the drawing, as if wanting a better look.

Examining the sketch closely, Saeorin nodded and spoke.

“It’s similar… almost identical. Do you know anything about the person who wields this sword?”

Deidram studied Saeorin as he organized his thoughts. Saeorin’s neck veins were bulging, his hands were trembling, and his breathing had become uneven. It was clear that the person wielding this sword had done something terrible to him.

“That sword is called a katana. It’s a style of blade that didn’t originally exist in this world.”

The man Saeorin was searching for was likely a reincarnator from another world. From what Deidram knew, only reincarnators could wield such a weapon with expertise.

“Could you explain more in detail?” Saeorin pressed.

“The person you’re looking for is likely a reincarnator. That is, unless the sword was merely a decorative item…”

“It wasn’t just for show. He definitely used it as a weapon. He would draw the sword, swing it, and sheath it again. Even with those unnecessary motions, his blade was incredibly fast.”

“Then it’s certain. The person you encountered was a reincarnator.”

“D-do you know where he is?”

Deidram smiled faintly at Saeorin’s desperation. Things might go smoother than he thought. 

Of course, Deidram had no idea where the reincarnator Saeorin described might be. There were too many reincarnators wreaking havoc in this world.

“I know exactly where he is. If you follow me, I’ll take you to him. What do you say?”

Deidram’s only concern was making money. He envisioned the reward he’d get for handing over this girl and couldn’t help but smile.

Saeorin took a step back, sniffing the air. Living beings’ scents subtly shifted depending on their emotions, and with his sensitive nose, Saeorin could detect those changes.

The same keen sense that was tied to his sister’s shared body told him that Deidram was lying.

‘He wasn’t lying when he explained reincarnators. It’s the part about knowing where to find him—that’s the lie.’

Deidram was attempting to deceive him with a perfectly neutral expression. Saeorin couldn’t discern his exact motive, but he doubted it was anything good.

Saeorin nodded.

“I’ll follow you. But not right now… there’s something I need to take care of first.”

“Is it something I can help with?”

“It’s a tribal ritual. Outsiders aren’t allowed to interfere.”

“Hmm, how long will it take?”

“One day. That’s all I need.”

Saeorin was lying too. Deidram, however, didn’t suspect a thing. He merely smiled and nodded.

“Fine. I’ll meet you here tomorrow, when the sun is overhead.”

“Alright, around this time tomorrow,” Saeorin replied.

Deidram left after extracting a firm promise from Saeorin.

As soon as Deidram’s figure disappeared, Saeorin sprang into action. The first thing he did was return to his dwelling to pack his belongings.

His provisions consisted of food for the journey, a bag to carry on his back, a few hides he had obtained in the forest, two daggers, and the chieftain’s sword, which would serve as his weapon.

That evening, Saeorin left the forest.

***

About three days had passed since Saeorin departed from the forest. He had walked tirelessly during that time.

As time went on, the number of people he encountered increased. Without exception, they all stared at Saeorin with a curious expression.

It didn’t take long for Saeorin to realize why they were staring. While their physical features were somewhat similar, the difference lay in his clothing.

‘No, my face is better-looking.’

Technically, it was his younger sister’s face, but to him, it didn’t matter. That was how he saw it.

Late one evening, Saeorin broke into a small village and stole a set of clothes hanging on a long line. As payment for the clothes, he left behind a squirrel pelt he had hunted.

In Saeorin’s homeland—the harsh, snowy plains—it was an unspoken rule not to harm a child wandering alone. Touching a child from another tribe was tantamount to declaring war.

But things were different here.

Traveling alone, Saeorin experienced several kidnapping attempts. A middle-aged woman who had approached him kindly suddenly turned violent, and a drunk man had tried to overpower him.

Of course, none of those attempts succeeded. All of them met their end at the edge of Saeorin’s blade.

After dispatching his attackers, Saeorin took all their belongings. By the time he reached a reasonably large city, his bag was full of items taken from the corpses.

Before entering the city, Saeorin carefully observed the guards stationed at the gates and the behavior of the people approaching them.

People handed something shiny to the guards. It seemed that such an offering was necessary to gain entry into the city of the civilized.

Rummaging through his bag, Saeorin remembered that among the things he’d taken from his attackers, there were some shiny items.

When his turn came, Saeorin handed one of these shiny objects to a guard.

“Hmm… This isn’t enough,” the guard said.

“How much more do I need to give?”

“Give me one more.”

Saeorin complied with the guard’s demand. The concept of currency was beginning to take root, albeit faintly, in the young girl’s mind.

Having shed most of his barbarian appearance, Saeorin now drew attention for a different reason.

Saeorin’s mother had been the most beautiful woman in their tribe. Her snow-white skin, pale hair, serene and cold gaze, eyes like deep blue lakes, and lips as red as berries made her a rare beauty.

Saeoran’s younger sister, Saeran, had inherited all of those traits.

With Saeorin, a tribal warrior, now inhabiting Saeran’s body, it created an aura that was both striking and uncanny.

The stares from those around him made Saeorin furrow his brows.

‘I get it. I’m pretty…’

He scoffed and walked through the city, ignoring the gazes that followed him.