Solo Swordmaster

Chapter 76: Wanna bet?

Chapter 76: Wanna bet?

There were a great number of things Limon had to grow accustomed to in the Iron Age—like rookies who’d never previously held a sword in their lives suddenly gloating about being a swordsman, or the skill-centric society the world had become.

“E-Excuse me! Don’t you think you’re going too far?!”

“Hm? Did I say something wrong?”

“You basically just said we shit ourselves!”

And yet, Limon could not contain his frustration at this moment.

“I mean, you did say that anyone without a music skill playing music is nothing more than loud noise. I figured people without a shitting skill just shat themselves.”

It wasn’t enough to silently judge them, either—he was throwing sarcasm as well.

“[Boss? What’s wrong?]”

It was clear from Yoo Na-kyung’s bewilderment that this was unlike her boss, but Limon couldn’t tolerate it any further. As soon as he’d heard the performer’s song get called mere ‘loud noise’—

The stress built up from listening to all those skill-dependent performances and the dark envy he had towards the performer collided with one another and sprang forth.

“Surely, all the dishes made by people without a culinary skill are like dog food to you folk, no? And students without a learning skill are absolute dumbasses.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

Limon smirked as the three men retorted in a fit of anger.

“What? Is it any better than claiming that people with a skill can’t sing?”

“That’s a different case.”

“Different how?”

“Being bad at cooking or studying is a personal problem. Don’t you think a horrible performance in a public area is a nuisance to others?”

“So why are you guys the judges of what a horrible performance is?”

It seemed to finally click in the three mens’ heads why Limon was picking a fight with them.

“Look, sir. We apologize. Our arguments were a bit rash,” they sighed.

“A bit?”

“It’s not necessarily ‘loud noise’. Still, isn’t it indisputable that music from people with skills are better than those without?”

Without a musical skill, performers were ultimately just ordinary people. Wouldn’t a performance by an ordinary person be no better than loud noise compared to that of a player’s performance?

Limon responded with a cold laugh at the three men’s logic. It was fitting to what was considered common sense.

“Hey. Wanna bet, then?”

“What bet?”

“I’ll show you a performance without a musical skill.”

The three men gave him looks of doubt as he went on to tell the wager.

“If you guys can say the same thing after the performance, I’ll sincerely apologize for my discourtesy. On top of that, I’ll repay you multiple times the amount you paid to get this spot.”

“And you want us to give you the spot if we can’t say the same thing?”

“Nah. That’s up to you.”

“Up to us?”

“Like I said, you can apologize or not. Do whatever you want. I’ll still repay you generously.”

“Then why are you making a bet?”

The three men looked baffled. According to Limon’s conditions, they would be the only ones benefiting regardless of whether they won or lost.

But Limon was nonchalant, as always.

“Unless you’re scared.”

“…Fine. Do as you please.”

They finally took on Limon’s bet. Not only was there much for them to lose, it was better to use this as a chance to send the performer away.

And so, after they came to an agreement, Limon took his arms off their shoulders and spoke to the performer.

“Hey, buddy.”

Having finished his song, he’d been looking on at the situation curiously as he tilted his head at the odd address of ‘buddy’.

“What?”

“Let me borrow that guitar and voice of yours for a bit. I’ll let you have a performance that’s more fun if you do.”

The performer widened his eyes at the unexpected offer. Limon gave him a smile. Perhaps it was because of that confident grin. Or perhaps it was because he had stood up for him. The performer finally broke his long gaze with a smile and nodded.

“Sure, buddy.”

***

***

Without a moment’s hesitation, he stuck his guitar out to Limon and gave him space to play. Gladly sitting in the spot the performer made way for, Limon gave each string a pluck as he conversed with the performer.

“What song are you going to play?”

“Let’s go with the one you were just singing.”

“‘Don’t Look at Me’? That’s an original song. Can you really play it?”

“I already gave it a listen, didn’t I?”

“Really?”

Claiming to be able to play a song one had only heard once before should’ve been considered nonsense. However, the performer did not react. The only thing on his face was a look of anticipation.

Rather, Yoo Na-kyung was the one who was baffled.

Ding—

“[Just what are you thinking, boss?]”

‘What?’

“[Everything, from then to now. You normally don’t butt into things like this.]”

He may have been called a mad dog, but Limon had a surprising amount of respect for social norms and unspoken rules. Knowinghim, Yoo Na-kyung could only have so many questions in her head.

It wasn’t like they were acquainted with each other. She couldn’t understand why Limon was going so out of his way to help a stranger.

Ding—

‘Just think of this as a moment of spontaneity.’

“[What are you, a teen girl? Where’s all this ‘spontaneity’ coming from?]”

‘I can get frustrated too, you know.’

“[…Fine. Let’s just let it slide as that, then.]”

Yoo Na-kyung nodded. She was aware of how discontent the countless performances had made Limon. The problem was that there was something in Limon’s behavior that stood out.

“[But you don’t know how to play the guitar! Just what are you trying to pull?]”

‘It’s fine. I learned how to play.’

“[Since when?]”

‘Now.’

“[Huh?!”

Strum—

The bird quickly shut her beak. This whole time, Limon had been slowly plucking the guitar strings. His movements became faster and faster, and the sound became clearer and clearer.

It started getting louder. His strum speed increased, the separate plucks forming together into chords. Before he knew it, Limon had begun playing a solid performance.

“Huh?”

“When did he start?”

The small group of onlookers who had been observing since the three men and Limon butted in were taken aback. They’d surely been paying attention, but when did he start playing?

Well, of course. It was a swordmaster’s technique. ‘Striking the enemy before they realized the sword had even left its sheath’. An instantaneous attack that made it impossible for a counter-attack.

‘What… is this performance?’

‘Is this really the song I just heard?’

Limon strummed the guitar even faster. Despite being the same song they had heard just moments before, the melody was much catchier than before. The sound left the audience captivated.

‘Is this…?’

And among them, the performer was the most surprised of all. Despite being oddly awkward, it was beyond any comparison. As he was the composer of the song, he knew that Limon was rearranging the song on the spot.

‘This guy is insane.’

Not only was he reiterating the exact song he’d just heard, he was modifying it in real time as he played. Could it be called ‘arrogance’ or ‘insanity’? Either way, it wasn’t something a normal musician would do. Especially not asking to borrow a stranger’s voice, as well.

But the performer was grinning ear to ear. Taking a soft breath, he started to sing along with Limon.

“Don’t look at me—”

“…!”

The audience, including the three men, held their breath. As the husky voice mixed in with the guitar, the hair on their backs stood up.

“Don’t look at me like that-”

Like it had been waiting for a voice, the guitar started to gain intensity, like the engine of a race car.

They shuddered as goosebumps started to line their bodies, trying to dig something out of their hearts.

‘Is this… really the same song as before?’

The people who had been watching since before the three men came in were dumbstruck. It wasn’t a bad song, even when the performer was playing by himself. But with Limon’s brilliant guitaring, it transcended the song onto an entirely different dimension.

‘How?’

‘I-Is this a skill?’

‘Or was he holding back before?’

They didn’t know that although he lacked technique, his song had the same potential as that of the violin witch’s. And that there was a monster who perfectly copied the witch’s performance and made her admit that there was nothing more for him to learn in a matter of a few months… That that monster was using all of his swordmaster instincts to make up for the performer’s lack of skill.

Before they knew it, there were no more pedestrians walking past. Dozens of listeners littered the street.

‘I don’t usually watch street performances.’

‘I’m going to be late… Ah, fuck it. I’ll just be late and make it up later.’

Whether they were walking in a hurry, on their way to watch another performance, or uninterested in music—

Just catching a note of the song would stop them dead in their tracks after a moment of hesitation,

“Don’t look back—”

It was sometimes extravagant. Others, serene. But there wasn’t a single moment where the guitar faltered. On top of it all was an erratic voice, at times unsteady and at others breaking. It only served to make the song all the more passionate. The two clashed with one another as the harmony dug into their souls like a storm.

The fingers strumming the guitar made not the strings, but one’s heart pulsate. The coarse cries ripped not through song, but emotion.

“Look at me and just smile like that—”

The song came to an end. Hundreds of people held their breath as if they were in a trance.

——

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