She Who Became Immortal

If a girl like Euphemia Grimwood were walking around naked, she would definitely stand out.

So, when passing through Earl Muller's town, I broke into a nearby clothing store and borrowed some suitable clothes. I'm a thief. Perhaps the shopkeeper was absent, or maybe they went to watch my execution by fire.

Although I felt somewhat guilty, I was penniless.

Reluctantly, I left the town on foot and reached the highway — but around that time, I couldn't help but ponder.

Where to go?

There's no way to know.

But in any case, it's probably best to leave Earl Muller's domain. After all, I am the murderer of Earl Muller, a criminal who impersonates Grimwood, and a girl who won't die no matter how much you burn or stab her. I don't know how much I won't die, and I don't feel like trying to find out.

Anyway.

I left the town.

I walked along the highway.

As the sun set, I found myself surrounded by someone.

It felt like the climax of a parody, and I couldn't help but laugh.

As I strolled along the highway, suddenly figures appeared beside me, and before I knew it, I was surrounded.

"Pursuers?" I thought, but it was a pointless question since being pursued was to be expected.

Rather, I should have been thinking, "Whose people are they?"

But even if I thought about it, I wouldn't get an answer.

"Are you Euphemia Grimwood?"

Someone among the pursuers said.

Without affirming or denying it, I put my hand on my hip and tilted my chin. It was probably a very cute gesture. Euphemia "Cute" goes beyond, after all.

Or should I say, it used to.

"We are messengers from Illyrius. Lord Illyrius witnessed that execution. He is prepared to shelter you, but..."

But since they say "but," are they planning to give me a choice?

If they witnessed that execution, perhaps they think I've been reborn as an invincible beauty. They might be thinking that sending a few pursuers won't be enough to capture Euphemia Grimwood or something like that.

Actually, it wasn't like that at all.

What I vaguely understood at the scene of that execution was that somehow, I seemed to be maintaining "this body of mine."

Even when I pulled out the arrow stuck in my chest, I honestly exerted all my strength. Normally, I would have worried about injuring muscles with that much force, but it didn't matter, and I wasn't tired.

It seems that I have become immortal.

This is just a baseless feeling that I somehow have.

So, as it stands, if several strong men were to restrain me, I would easily be captured. Unless they intend to kill me, that is.

Regardless, I was bored so why not play with destiny for now, shall we?

"I'll accept the invitation," I said.

I had nowhere else to go neither know what to do, and I was slightly curious about what Illyrius was thinking. If the situation were to worsen, somehow, I felt it might be okay too.

I should have refrained, though.

Illyrus, also known as His Excellency Leopold Illyrus, a prominent noble of the Louisse Kingdom, seemed to have personally attended the execution by fire, driven by the curiosity to witness the rumored Miss Mizette. His deliberate visit to Earl Muller's territory coincided with my own fiery fate.

I found myself escorted by Illyrus's messenger into a carriage. While not extravagant treatment for a noble lady, it sufficed for a middle-aged man from modern-day Earth. The journey lasted about ten days, but I'll spare you the mundane details; there was nothing noteworthy to report.

Upon arrival at Illyrus's castle, I was ushered into what appeared to be an ordinary room, where Leopold Illyrus awaited me.

Despite his grand noble status, Leopold appeared lean, favoring custom-made attire that allowed for ease of movement. He possessed a penchant for gathering talent, yet his appearance was unremarkable. His face, reminiscent of an inverted triangle akin to a dragonfly or chameleon, gave an odd impression of an inverted gentleman. Whenever his gaze met mine, I couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort, as if my privacy had been intruded upon.

The situation was awkward for both of us. Leopold certainly didn't intend to make me uncomfortable, and I certainly didn't want to feel so.

Without preamble, Leopold addressed me. "I'll ensure your livelihood in exchange for dealing with them," he stated bluntly, his eyes fixed on me. Perhaps he deemed formalities unnecessary, either because of my status or his own indifference to pleasantries.

"Dealing with whom?" I asked, perplexed. Leopold raised an eyebrow in response.

"Don't you know? That's unlikely. I've heard that the 'Gillette Twins' are quite famous, even at the academy."

I was aware of them.

But I couldn't comprehend.

Me, dealing with the Gillette Twins?

"If you refuse, then refuse. However, if you have other plans, that's acceptable too. I can ensure your sustenance. Should you prove valuable, I'll even secure your position. Apply yourself diligently, 'Euphemia the Talentless'."

As Leopold uttered my name, a peculiar tingle danced down my spine, and I couldn't help but stifle a giggle behind my hand.

How shrewd.