The Heroines Who Framed Me Are Clinging to Me

Chapter 17 - The Mansion's Secret

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 17 - The Mansion's Secret

Arno took pride in being a member of the Empire’s greatest knights order.

The White Knights.

The symbol of the White Knights, emblazoned on his chest, represented the pinnacle of what any knight could achieve.

To bear that emblem was the highest honor for anyone who had ever held a sword.

Sword, sword, and nothing but the sword.

Arno was born into a fallen noble family of knights.

— "The Bingcheol Divine Sword is the ultimate technique, Arno. Never neglect your training. The fate of our family rests on your shoulders."

To honor his father's dying wish, Arno had picked up a sword at the age of five.

Trained rigorously under the lord who had taken him in, by the time he was ten, there was no adult in the domain who could match him.

At eleven, having defeated every swordsman in the domain except the knights of the household, he was dubbed a prodigy.

Years later, he finally earned a place in the White Knights.

An order where each knight was said to be worth a hundred ordinary soldiers—the most elite force on the continent.

— "Is that all you've got?"

But the order was no easy place, even for a prodigy.

Among geniuses, there were always those who stood out, and those who faltered.

Arno gritted his teeth.

He honed the Bingcheol Divine Sword, striving for recognition even among the order. Finally, his chance came.

— "It's a covert mission, Arno."

— "Covert, sir?"

— "Yes. The target is the Gray Duke estate. We suspect they might be connected to the Blood Cult. There's been a disturbing number of child disappearances in the region."

— "What...!"

— "Don’t be too surprised. A prophecy has been given. They’re said to be using children as sacrifices to summon a disaster beyond imagination."

Listening to the commander’s explanation, Arno clenched his teeth.

— "...What are my orders?"

— "First, confirm whether the Gray Duke family is indeed linked to the Blood Cult. The rest will follow. Of course, if you find that they are trying to harbor a vessel for the disaster, you must eliminate it. Can you do that? This mission will require you to risk your life."

A top-secret mission.

Arno nodded.

He had a goal.

To rise to greatness with the Bingcheol Divine Sword, his family's ultimate technique.

There was no turning down a difficult mission.

And so, he was dispatched to the Gray Duke estate.

Disguised as a servant, Arno gathered evidence that confirmed the estate’s connection to the Blood Cult.

And then, finally...

'That must be the vessel for the King of the Underworld…'

He found Lloyd.

A boy sitting alone in a room, eyes rolled back in his head.

A dark, overwhelming aura seeped from the boy. Even being near it was suffocating, forcing Arno to his knees.

The next report was due in a month.

He decided to dispose of the puppet holding the disaster first.

Arno waited for the right moment.

Finally, the opportunity came.

During a search exercise designed to test the newly inducted children of the Blood Cult, Arno lay in wait in the dark forest, near the traces of mana.

Lloyd walked by.

Arno prepared his killing blow.

With a single, silent draw of his sword, he would unleash the fourth form of the Bingcheol Divine Sword, the Silent Blade.

He planned to use his sword energy to crush the puppet, ensuring the disaster within never had a chance to escape.

Arno was determined. Or so he thought.

"......"

But the boy looked so weak.

Unlike the overwhelming aura that had poured out earlier, the boy’s frail body was what stood out now. He looked like he might collapse at any moment, his eyes shadowed by deep dark circles.

He occasionally clutched his ears as if hearing phantom sounds, his hands trembling like those of a patient with severe tremors.

A boy, but also a sickly one.

'He’s just a puppet.'

Arno reminded himself.

Not a weakling to be protected, but a vessel for disaster.

'He’s just a puppet, just a puppet.'

He had to be eliminated before the disaster could be unleashed.

The deputy commander had said as much.

Gritting his teeth, Arno drew his sword.

He unleashed a wide arc of sword energy, aiming for a direct hit.

He thought the boy would be dead.

Until the boy dodged.

Arno was stunned. How had the boy avoided that? There had been no warning, no telltale sign. It should have been impossible to dodge by chance alone.

More importantly, Arno was a knight, and he had launched a surprise attack.

Confused, he exchanged a few words with the boy.

— I must execute you.

Then he attacked again.

Surely, it had to be a series of freak coincidences.

No matter what, there was no way he, a White Knight, could lose to a boy, even if that boy harbored a disaster within.

But then...

— Cha-ja-ja-jang!

"...?"

The boy blocked Arno’s first strike.

Arno’s blade skidded off the boy’s small shield and embedded itself in a tree.

The tree, unable to withstand the sword energy, toppled over.

Arno quickly dodged the falling tree.

- Boom!

Walking out of the dust cloud, Arno tilted his head.

Was it just luck?

The boy had blocked Arno’s strike with such natural ease, as if he could see the entire trajectory.

'That’s impossible.'

He was a White Knight.

"Haa!"

Arno planted his foot firmly and launched a deep strike.

But the boy dodged it with a simple turn of his head.

"What in the world…"

Arno was bewildered.

The boy seemed to be avoiding his attacks as if he could see them coming. This boy couldn’t have been older than fourteen. How was this possible?

“Who… what are you!?”

Swish!

This time, the attack missed by a wide margin.

Arno couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

His sword was known for its speed even among the knights, yet the boy was dodging as if he could see it coming.

As if he were a seasoned veteran who had faced countless battles.

“What the hell!”

The boy’s body was that of a child.

But the movements within it were not.

The boy fought like someone who had endured years of warfare, with movements honed through countless battles.

Slash!

Arno’s cheek was grazed, blood dripping down.

A cutting spell?

"Damn it!"

More cutting spells flew toward him.

— Clang! Clang!

Arno channeled all his energy into the Bingcheol Divine Sword.

It was one of the few techniques that could block magic.

At the same time, he closed the distance.

When fighting a mage, closing the gap is key. Every knight knows that instinctively.

And then.

The boy seemed to have been waiting for that moment as he kicked the ground.

Thud, thud, thud!

Black soil filled Arno’s vision.

"!!!"

Arno reflexively shut his eyes for a moment.

?

Frost formed along the blade’s surface.

At the same time, sharp attacks rained down.

'This is insane.'

Dodging Arno’s attacks, Lloyd clicked his tongue.

It was hard to believe this was just a regular knight of the White Order.

That frost on the blade—every time it brushed past, it sent chills down Lloyd’s spine.

Even with all his experience fighting the Demon King.

— Cha-ja-ja-jang!

And that sword technique, capable of blocking magic.

Lloyd had never seen anything like it.

The White Knights must be on another level.

Lloyd gulped, trying to create more distance between them.

Slash, sword energy sliced through the air, cutting off a few strands of Lloyd’s hair.

'I’m almost at my limit.'

Lloyd’s extraordinary senses allowed him to predict the flow of mana, letting him dodge Arno’s attacks by just a hair.

But that was all he could do.

His mana was nearly depleted.

This damnable body of Lloyd’s was incredibly talented but had terrible durability.

If Arno closed the distance, Lloyd knew he would be in real danger.

'I might have one more spell left in me.'

His mana was running low, and his mana circuits were strained to the limit.

His hands trembled from the strain of forcibly opening his blocked mana circuits.

He only had enough left for one more spell.

— Let’s cut off his head. His blood is cold, it will taste good.

Shut up.

Lloyd retorted inwardly as he assumed a stance.

He had no intention of sparing his opponent.

Good or evil, it didn’t matter once someone pointed a sword at him.

However, knights instinctively protect their vital points.

Head, neck, heart, forehead, groin—knights naturally guard these critical areas while counterattacking, making it difficult to land a decisive blow.

So...

— Thud!

As Arno closed the distance, Lloyd kicked the ground.

He flung the gathered dirt into Arno’s face.

He wouldn’t have expected that.

Lloyd had been fighting fairly until now.

He immediately rolled to the side, dodging the blade that cut through the dirt cloud.

Thud, thud.

Even as he rolled, Lloyd flicked his fingers downward.

— Slash!

A chilling air accompanied a sharp sound as a deep cut appeared vertically across Arno's abdomen.

Right down the center of his body.

It was the area that all knights found hardest to defend.

Yet, it was also the area where inflicting a fatal injury was the most difficult.

However, while Arno was momentarily staggered, Lloyd prepared another spell.

He was out of mana, but that didn’t matter.

He intended to use Arno’s own mana.

As Lloyd’s fingers flicked in the air, manipulating the gap in Arno’s defenses...

“What… what are you...!”

Arno gasped in shock, clutching his abdomen.

Thud.

He collapsed to his knees.

He tried to close his eyes and focus, as if to meditate, but it was too late.

“Gah!”

Blood spurted from his mouth, staining the ground crimson.

His internal mana was in turmoil, making it impossible for him to stand.

Step, step.

Lloyd slowly walked over to Arno.

“Look up at me.”

Bleeding profusely, Arno raised his head.

Lloyd picked up a sword that had fallen nearby.

The hilt was sticky with blood, and the blade glistened menacingly.

Lloyd pressed the edge of the sword against Arno’s neck.

“Answer my questions.”

“How… how did you… control my mana… cough...?”

“If you answer my questions, I’ll tell you. If I like your answers, I might even spare your life.”

“Th-That’s impossible…”

“Doesn’t hurt to believe me, does it? After all, you’re about to die without even leaving a last word.”

“……”

His silence was as good as consent.

“Why did you target me?”

“A prophecy… an order from Princess Aina…”

“What were the orders?”

“Track the Blood Cult…”

As blood poured from his mouth, Lloyd’s expression grew darker.

“Do you have any information about this place, this mansion?”

“Why… why do you ask?”

“Because I need to escape from here, too.”

“Lies… you’re with the Blood Cult…”

“Don’t waste time, just answer me. We’re in a hurry.”

They had already spent too much time.

The sect's higher-ups might arrive any moment.

“This… this is one of the Blood Cult’s top branches. The Duchess ranks within the top five…”

“As I thought.”

“They’re raising powerful operatives here… the mansion itself is a giant, cough, magic circle. For brainwashing.”

“I see.”

“The mark on your arm… the darker it gets, the more you’ll lose yourself. You’ve already lost most of your mind.”

...Have I?

Lloyd tilted his head slightly.

Sure, he’d felt his mind sinking a bit, but he hadn’t noticed anything too severe.

Arno pointed weakly to his waist.

There were several syringes attached to his belt.

“These injections… they prevent brainwashing. In my quarters… if you don’t kill me, I’ll share them with you.”

“If your answers are satisfactory.”

“Ask.”

Lloyd studied Arno’s face.

His eyes were strong and resolute, as one would expect from a knight.

Knights were known for following orders, but they also had a strong sense of pride.

Especially someone like Arno, who would inject himself with anti-brainwashing serums just to complete his mission.

People like that wouldn’t act without a solid reason.

What could that reason be?

Why was Arno so determined to kill Lloyd?

And would other knights target him too?

There was only one question Lloyd needed to ask to get to the bottom of it.

“Then tell me… what was this prophecy you mentioned?”

“The second prophecy… from Saint Aria… it was…”

As Arno began to speak.

— Thwack!

A violent spray of blood burst from his mouth.

Flinch!

Arno convulsed briefly before his eyes rolled back.

The blood splattered across Lloyd’s face, turning his vision red.

Lloyd slowly lowered his gaze.

Arno’s left chest.

A long, slender, white hand had pierced through it.

Thump, thump.

The hand clenched Arno’s still-beating heart, which gradually slowed.

Lloyd’s gaze drifted upward.

Beyond Arno.

A head of ashen hair fluttered ominously in the air.

“What are you whispering about?”

Duchess Gray.

A single drop of blood trickled down her cheek.

Plop.

The droplet fell from her raised lips, staining her smile crimson.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]