How to Live as a Knight After the Ending

Chapter 7: Proof of Strength (1)

Assigned a private room, I flopped onto the bed.

Firm but still sinking, I realized that this was a different world from the medieval one I knew, but in a way I was comfortable.

In a normal medieval inn, the bed would have been less fluffy and had straw underneath.

I thought, ‘At least this is the modern world, so I shouldn’t have any problems living here.’

Of course, that’s only in comparison to the Middle Ages, but for me, living in the modern world, there are all kinds of inconveniences.

No computers, no internet, no smartphones.

I can’t even play my favorite games anymore.

“No, this is a game world, right?” I thought.

The thought made me laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.

‘I love games, but I never wanted games to be my life.’

Sighing to myself, I glanced at the mirror off to one side of the room.

I saw a handsome man with dark hair staring back at me from the other side of the mirror.

His skin was white and his dark, sunken eyes were brilliant. He’s standing still, as if he’s deep in thought, even though he’s not.

His body is slim and well-proportioned.

If a stranger saw him, they would think he was a master from a noble family somewhere.

This alien yet familiar figure was that of the wandering knight I now occupied.

To be precise, it’s a character customization I made when I was playing the game.

My personal preference was to make the Wandering Knight quite aesthetically pleasing rather than dull and stoic.

Personally, when I play a game, I don’t like it very much if the character isn’t pretty.

‘Looking at things like this, I’m glad I did a good character customization.’

The game offered a lot of customization when creating your character.

You could choose a default gender, but you could also tweak the skin color and face to create all sorts of bizarre shapes.

You could have a muscular body, shorten your height, or make you look like an old man.

‘……I could have gotten in trouble if I’d done a weird customization that was too individualized.’

The so-called dead people in the game were known for making their characters look weird because they had nothing else to do.

They’d wear rags, make their faces monster-cheeked, and color their skin pink or purple.

I’ve thought about doing the same thing, but I love the character so much that I’ve always kept him handsome and cool.

I didn’t do it knowing it would turn out this way, but in hindsight, it’s a good thing I did.

If I look this good, I won’t be criticized anywhere.

‘Too bad I don’t have a job.’

If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have raised a mage instead of a knight.

The difficulty of the game is so high that a mage with low health in the early game will die before you can do anything.

Even if they shine in the late game, it doesn’t matter if they can’t get past the early game, that’s why I chose the most stable knight.

I was like, “No, thanks. Who knew this would happen anyway?”

On the bright side, being a wandering knight wasn’t bad.

In this day and age, everyone carries a gun, but their superior physical prowess was reserved for knights.

‘Besides, I wasn’t born a warlock or a beggar.’

If I were a warlock, I’d be branded a criminal and on the run from the start, and if I were a beggar-born, I’d be running around in a pair of panties and a sword, not armor.

What matters is how I live in this world now.

The mind belongs to the modern man and the body belongs to a medieval knight, while the world I live in is contemporary.

TLN: contemporary = time period in the 1900’s.

I wondered if I was a twisted hybrid of all time periods.

I realized that adapting to this body was my first priority.

The disconnect between what I thought in my head and what actually came out of my mouth surprised me.

I realize it’s a trait of being born a wandering knight, but I don’t want to be stuck with it forever.

The good news is that it’s not as inflexible as it sounds.

My body didn’t protest too much when I took wallets from the bodies of the guys who actually shot at me.

‘Or maybe it’s because the knight used to be a medieval thug.’

I muttered to myself and quickly stripped off my armor and got into bed.

I had an instinctive feeling that my life was going to be pretty rough, but for now, I just wanted to forget about it all and get a good night’s sleep.

*

~The next morning~

The first-floor dining room of the tavern, which is notoriously deserted in the morning, was somehow quite crowded.

More than half of them were mercenaries who had been drinking here last night.

“Is he out yet?”

“Wait. He’ll be down soon.”

As the group of mercenaries chatted amongst themselves, some of them cast their eyes to one of the tables in the shop.

There sat Ronan Rolland, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with a hint of nervousness.

He was dressed in his usual immaculate, wrinkle-free suit and narrow eyes, and his arms were uncharacteristically crossed, his fingers drumming against his forearms.

Ronan couldn’t help but feel sick to his stomach.

What he’d seen of Osian’s skill was real.

To be the first to discover someone of this caliber, only to be snatched up by another broker?

If that happened, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night for at least a year so Ronan had to get the best deal for him right now but being too hasty was its own problem.

Last night, when he offered Osian a good deal, he didn’t take it easily. In fact, he’s even wary of the idea.

So this time, he’d be as careful as possible not to offend him, and he’d make his offer in a polite manner.

Being polite was his specialty.

At that moment, the sound of metal clicking was heard.

At the same time, the eyes of the people gathered in the dining room on the first floor turned toward the stairs to the second floor.

Only one person could have made that distinctive sound.

As if to fulfill everyone’s expectations, the armored Osian appeared on the first floor.

Those who had only heard rumors about him and had come in their spare time were all oohing and aahing at his appearance.

They thought he was a man with broad shoulders and muscles, not some crazy guy pretending to be a knight that didn’t fit the times.

From the looks of it, he looks like a master who grew up in a noble family but no one rushed to argue or approach him.

It was because the people who had witnessed Osian’s inaction last night were nervous about his appearance.

Naturally, the atmosphere was filled with silence.

The only one in the room who seemed unperturbed was Osian.

He naturally sat down at an empty seat and wanted to order food.

At that moment, there was a movement, and it was Ronan.

Ronan, who had been sitting and waiting here since the early hours of the morning, approached Osian with as natural a gait as he could muster.

“Good morning, Mr. Osian.”

“Ah, yes. Ronan, you said.”

“I’m surprised you remembered my name.”

“Well, you made such an impression on me.”

He didn’t bother to say more, as it was rare to find a narrow-eyed man.

The words pleased Ronan.

The part where Osian said he remembered him, at least it didn’t sound like he was being mean.

His poker face didn’t show it, though.

“May I join you?”

“Only if you buy me a drink again.”

“Uh, are you going to start with breakfast?”

“I was just trying it out.”

“Haha, I see.”

Ronan smiled in relief at the comment and sat back in his seat casually.

He wasn’t fooled, though. It’s not often in this business that you can get this far and then let your guard down and have it all go down the drain.

So be as careful as possible.

He tried to make a good offer without offending him.

“Ronan.”

“Yes. Mr. Osian.”

“Are those your coworkers over there?”

“Eh?”

Ronan’s gaze shifted to the tavern’s entrance.

The door had still not been repaired from the previous day’s brawl, and through it he could see a group of people walking toward him, their backs to the streaming morning sun.

There were three of them in total, each with a distinct personality.

One was a ghostly, brown-haired woman in a dress. She wore a white beast’s shawl around her neck, but she looked like she was in her twenties and felt as old as her forties.

The other was an impeccably dressed, ash-haired elderly gentleman.

The older man in the frock coat wore rimless glasses and held a cane in one hand. All of them had the appearance of luxury.

The last one was a free-spirited looking man.

He wore leather pants and a t-shirt that fit his legs, gongs in his ears and lips, and his hair was a slightly fluorescent blue that looked like it had been dyed.

His uncovered chest was heavily muscled from exercise.

Ronan’s expression hardened slightly as he recognized them.

They were headhunters who were in the same industry as Ronan and for quite some time now, they have been clashing with each other and competing to steal people.

“I guess they’re uninvited guests.”

Osian said at Ronan’s subtle reaction.

Of the three who approached Osian, the ghostly woman was the first to speak.

“Nice to meet you. Are you the righteous knight who showed up last night?”

“I don’t know if I’m righteous, but I am a knight.”

“I’m Isabella Ross, a broker with a bit of a name in the business.”

“I see. Then so are these two.”

At Osian’s words, the old man and the young man introduced themselves.

“Hehe, nice to meet you. I’m Osburn Russell.”

“I’m Jake Hudson. Nice to meet you, brother.”

The man who introduced himself as Jake pulled up a chair without asking permission and sat down near Osian.

Ronan shot him a narrowed glare at the seemingly rude gesture, but Jake didn’t care.

It was as if Ronan wasn’t here in the first place.

“I can’t believe you’re actually wearing armor and a sword, but I’ve heard your story.”

“My story?”

“You know, last night. People said you wiped out a gang with a single sword. How’d you do it?”

“I don’t know how. I just swung the sword.”

“Can you prove that?”

Osian’s eyebrows twitched momentarily at Jake’s words.

Ronan looked surprised at the sight, and Osburn and Isabella took a wait-and-see attitude without interjecting.

Jake Hudson was a broker who had recently risen to prominence out of nowhere.

Some say he has a large mafia-style crime syndicate behind him.

Jake Hudson’s growth has been nothing short of spectacular and because of his success, Jake’s civility is hard to come by.

To some, it was a nice touch, but to those who had established themselves in the industry, it was poison…and still is.

He doubted the ability of the person he came to recruit.

It was a word that could never be uttered without coming with the intent to fight.

Ronan checked Osian’s condition.

At least as Ronan had seen last night, Osian was not one to shy away from an argument or a fight.

“Proof.”

Osian’s expression remained unchanged.

He wasn’t angry, nor was he smirking.

He just stared at Jake with his usual expressionless face, but with a sharper edge to his eyes.

“You say funny things. Why should I?”