Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Professor Wilton Roberts was sitting at the table with his back hunched over slightly.

He raised one leg and placed the heel of his foot on the edge of the table, making contact with a pressure point on his foot, while resting his cheek on his knee.

In that position, he lifted his gaze and looked at me. His small eyes were sharp, like a snake’s, making his gaze seem even more piercing.

With a smile, the professor asked, “Why do you think so?”

“The longsword is typically worn at the waist. Because the blade is long, it’s difficult to hide the weapon, and the movements when swinging it are relatively large. This allows one to anticipate and prepare for an attack.”

“And the dagger?”

“…On the other hand, a dagger can be hidden in one’s clothes. It allows for a quick and stealthy attack in unexpected situations, making it hard to prepare for.”

“Correct. Then, how can you tell if someone is carrying a dagger?”

“…You could observe if they wear a holster… or if the dagger is visible.”

“You’re only half-right this time.”

Professor Roberts stood up from the table.

Even though he was wearing sturdy-looking shoes, he made no sound as he moved. I found this quite strange.

Stealth techniques are usually practiced by assassins, and I had always wanted to learn them myself. I wondered if there were similar techniques at Ciaran, so I watched him closely.

He stood tall and raised both arms to shoulder width.

With his back straight, I was finally able to fully gauge his height.

Though he wore a long, thin black shirt and black trousers with a black vest, giving him a small and slight appearance, he had a surprisingly long and solid build.

It wasn’t as if he had mastered a technique to shrink his body, but it was impressive how freely he seemed to control his appearance.

I couldn’t help but admire the noble departments in the Empire, like the one to which Calypse Agrizent or Wilton Roberts might belong.

Then, his next words left me even more amazed.

“How many daggers do you think I have hidden on me right now?”

No one answered.

Instead, there was a soft murmur of disbelief coming from various parts of the room.

It seemed that the professor had not asked the question expecting an answer. He calmly retrieved a dagger from each of the cuffs of his shirt and placed them on the table.

His shirt was so tight that there seemed to be no space inside it, so his actions appeared as though he was pulling an elephant out of a tiny wooden box.

And amazingly, this was just the beginning.

When Roberts unbuttoned his shirt, a belt across his chest became visible.

The daggers in their holsters were positioned in a way that wouldn’t interfere with his movements, crossing over his body like clavicles. There were three on the left and three more on the right, making six in total.

There were also three more daggers hidden beneath the waistband of his shirt, and when he bent down to lift his pants, one dagger and a longsword emerged.

That made a total of thirteen so far. When Roberts tapped the heel of his right shoe on the floor, a blade suddenly sprang out from the front of his shoe without a sound.

I swallowed nervously.

“Those who use longswords usually learn not to drop their sword first. But daggers are useless if kept hidden for too long, so people like me often carry a large number of them.”

“…”

“I’ll ask again. How can we recognize a dangerous person who carries a dagger?”

“…”

While I was silent, Roberts began reattaching the daggers to his body.

Starting with his ankles, then his waist and chest, he affixed the daggers in reverse order before buttoning his shirt again. Even though I now knew where they were, he managed to conceal them perfectly. The smile left his face.

“Dangerous people tend to wear black clothing.”

“…What?”

“It’s an easy answer. Who would willingly dress entirely in threatening black from head to toe?”

I was at a loss for words.

Some of the students chuckled at the professor’s joke, but when Roberts gave a stern look, they immediately stopped. He was always serious. I found myself deep in thought, wondering if I was missing something significant.

Professor Wilton Roberts didn’t give answers easily. He was someone who constantly posed questions.

He would ask, the students would ponder, and once they responded, he would share his thoughts on the matter, always giving us time to think before asking again.

“But would I really dress like this if I were actually going out to kill someone?”

This time, no one laughed. Someone answered quietly, “No.”

“The weapons you hold are that dangerous. Always check who stays close to you and never handle a dagger carelessly.”

In the meantime, I felt a little uneasy.

In the Central Plains, assassins did indeed wear black when they went to kill someone. In the dark, even with a light, it was difficult to spot someone in black clothing.

Of course, the nights in Ciaran were very different from those in the Central Plains, but night was still night. I wondered if wearing dark clothing would still be a better option when killing someone under the cover of night.

However, I could understand his next words. The saying to be cautious of elders, women, and children was common in the Central Plains, a proverb repeated everywhere. Never underestimate anyone around you. I gathered my thoughts.

Wilton Roberts waited until a tense silence settled over the students, then spoke again.

“Now, let’s start by explaining the structure of a dagger.”

I listened intently as he explained the basics of daggers in ways I had never heard before.

It wasn’t simply a matter of pointing out the grip and the blade. He explained how holding it in certain ways could increase the distance of a throw, or how to throw it short. Every detail was fascinating.

When he explained how to hold the dagger in reverse to cut flesh and bone in desperate situations, it felt like listening to an adventurous tale. I couldn’t help but sweat with excitement.

Each time Roberts threw a dagger or caught one, the students flinched, and his hand movements were so delicate, like cutting through falling leaves with the wind.

The way he transferred power from his shoulders to his fingertips was so fascinating that even though I tried to mimic it a few times with small movements, I couldn’t manage to replicate it. I was thrilled to hear that from the next lesson, he would teach us the technique in detail.

* * *

After dinner, I sat in front of Sheiden, organizing my notes.

Since alchemy and camping, which had been moved to Fridays this semester, continued into Saturday, neither Sheiden nor I had enough time for self-study, so we both focused even more on taking notes than in the first semester.

I organized everything we learned that week in my notebook and compared it with Sheiden’s, double-checking the important points.

When I was finishing up my notes, I asked Sheiden about the students who took the dagger-throwing class with me.

As always, Sheiden told me everything in detail. It was intriguing how all the students in the class were from the fencing club, though it wasn’t clear if it was because of that or if some students from other departments were mixed in.

Among them, the story of Oliver Combine, a third-year student, stuck in my mind the most.

Oliver Combine was a martial artist of average height and build. His teal-colored hair, which reached the tip of his chin, was wavy like seaweed, making him stand out even from a distance.

When he remained still, he had a stern expression, but he liked explaining things and had a lot to say. He was a close friend of Glothin Tenner, a boy who Marianne Filodendor had started to like during the summer break. I had never seen him, but it seemed he had quite a striking appearance.

When I told her that Marianne said he was a boy who looked great in glasses, Sheiden laughed loudly and nodded.

“Senior Tenner is indeed handsome. Being in the business department, he must be good at studying, so glasses would… Yeah, they could suit him well. Did Marianne say that? She told me not to worry about him.”

“Well, I don’t believe he’s handsome, so she got even more worked up.”

“Anyway, I heard Tenner and Oliver Combine are quite close. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. They’re both just good people, in my opinion. Just be careful not to pass on any gossip about Marianne to them.”

Although I wasn’t one to spread others’ stories, I nodded, reminding myself to be careful. Suddenly, I became curious and asked again.

“How is it that someone from the business department and Oliver Combine are so close?”

“They’re the same age, and Tenner has worked for the Combine family’s retainers for a long time. Of course, they’re close. Also, I heard their personalities match well. Combine senior likes people and enjoys explaining things.”

“Oh, that’s true. Even when we first met, he answered my questions kindly.”

“Right?”

Then, Sheiden started asking in detail about Professor Wilton Roberts. It was surprising that there was anyone in the school he didn’t know, but I made an effort to explain everything I could.

When I described his silent, careful walk, his skilled movements, and how he could control even the smallest muscles of his body, Sheiden interrupted and asked for the one thing he wanted to know, and I agreed to answer.

When I told him about Roberts’ gray hair, his sand-colored eyes, and the black clothes that wrapped his entire body from neck to toe, Sheiden made a peculiar expression.

When he heard that Roberts belonged to the Imperial Nobility Yearbook’s lower departments, he nodded as if he finally understood.

“Ah, if he’s part of that, it makes sense.”

“Is it the same for everyone involved in the creation of the Yearbook, besides Professor Calyps Agrigent?”

“Well… I’ve heard that people from that side of things don’t like to reveal themselves much because of their profession. Even Professor Calyps rarely leaves his office during breaks.”

“…I see.”

“Yeah. Unless Walter senior drags him out… Ah, wait.”

“Hm?”

“Never mind.”

“I think Walter senior gets along well with the professors.”

I praised Walter Orgen for his respectful attitude toward adults, wondering whether it was because he knew how to show respect or because of his naturally gentle personality.

After a while of such conversation, Sheiden said he was tired and needed to sleep, so we parted ways.