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

On Friday morning, I received a pile of letters.

I learned from the attendant who brought them that the letters from the students were collected and delivered all at once on the fourth Friday of every month.

The academy’s curriculum, which is completed in three years, felt overwhelming. So, I nodded in agreement when I was told that to avoid wasting time, no letters are allowed except for those on the designated days, the last Friday of the month.

When I asked about urgent news, I was told that if a letter needed to be delivered right away, the sender could either inform the deliverer in advance or mark the envelope with a red seal so that it could be received outside the designated day.

I didn’t just receive letters; I was also provided with high-quality stationery and sealing wax, the entire set of writing materials. It was a thoughtful gesture that I had to purchase myself later, but because it was my first month at the academy, the academy had provided the tools for replying to letters, which was surprising and kind.

During the morning class, I asked around and found that most students, like myself, spent the last Friday and weekend of each month wrestling with letters.

Reluctantly, I decided to spend the whole afternoon reading and responding to letters.

Professor Maelo Sanson was quite pleased with my afternoon plan and wholeheartedly supported it.

Judging by the names and the number of letters sent, it seemed that I was the only one who didn’t know that the academy distributes letters once a month.

Father and Mother each sent one, while Michael and my youngest brother Asdel each sent four.

It appeared they had been writing weekly and sending them all together at once.

There were letters from both my paternal and maternal grandparents, as well as one from my uncle. I recalled that during Professor Calyps Agrizent’s class, he had mentioned how my uncle had chosen my father as a match for his younger sister as soon as they met. Curious about the news, I decided to open my uncle’s letter first.

My uncle, Oscar Valentia, was nine years older than my mother, Seirn Ernhardt.

Perhaps because of this, he had always cherished his younger sister since childhood. However, the gossip I heard about the previous generation was so unfamiliar and drastic compared to the man I knew.

The uncle I knew was a dignified father of a son and a daughter. He always neatly combed his dark purple hair, and his clothing was never out of place.

His eyes, sharp as they were, had the kind of intensity that could make anyone shrink with a single cold remark.

Perhaps because of this, it was hard to imagine him acting violently.

The letter he sent was written in his usual neat, stern handwriting.

He had pre-arranged to get anything he needed or wanted from the upper sections of the capital, simply mentioning our family name, Valentia or Ernhardt, and expressing his love for his nephew in his usual solemn manner.

After expressing my gratitude for his kindness, inquiring about my aunt, and asking about my cousins, I wrote a brief reply and set the letter aside.

The letters from my grandparents and maternal grandparents were quite similar. They were filled with casual greetings, hints about gifts they wished to send, and questions about any new friends I had made.

Having been born the first son in the family, I always showed great respect to the elders and maintained the proper formalities in our family.

Normally, I would reply to them with polite responses in person in the drawing room, but writing them out in letters was much quicker. It would have taken more than two hours face to face, but now it only took twenty minutes.

There was nothing unusual about the letters from my father and mother either, but they were filled with more detailed concern.

In my reply, I wrote down the names of Sheiden and Benjamin, as well as Professors Maelo Sanson and Douglas Mustang.

I knew they would be happy if I remembered and wrote down the names of those good adults and friends I had grown close to, so I made sure to include them.

Once I had placed the letters from the family aside, I finally opened the letters from my younger siblings, Michael and Asdel.

Michael’s letter began with the words, “I miss you, brother.”

Perhaps because he wasn’t yet used to writing, the letters were larger and the strokes simpler compared to the adults’ writing. I could feel he had written them with extra effort to make the letters clear, and it warmed my heart, making me feel a bit more emotional.

A smile spread across my face at his endearing words. It seemed he was eager to attend the academy himself, saying that he planned to apply for early admission, and he seemed deeply absorbed in his studies.

His parents were concerned that he might be damaging his health by reading too much, so like me, he had started practicing at the training grounds.

Yes, children should run around, eat well, and ask lots of questions to learn.

I felt a deep sense of happiness as I read each letter over and over again.

The children I had cared for back in the Central Plains were already well taken care of by their mother and nursemaids. They were over five years old and were just starting to learn horseback riding.

They admired me, feared me, and depended on me, but I was their uncle, not their father or mother, so I had never experienced the kind of unconditional affection Michael and Asdel showed.

Michael, this little one, was the child I had watched grow from infancy, the one who clung to me and cooed in my arms. How could I not miss him or find him endearing?

The story of the Kiadris family lingered in the corner of my heart. I silently promised myself that I would never cause this child any sorrow.

I wrote in large, neat letters so that the child could read easily, making sure not to spill a single drop of ink.

“I am studying hard at the academy, I think of you several times a day, I can’t wait to study with you at the academy, I believe you will do well,” and other sweet words filled more than five pages of the letter.

Although I knew very well that Michael would never be able to attend the academy with me due to our age difference, I wrote these words anyway. I could vividly imagine the joy on his face when he read them.

“… I miss you.”

The words slipped out, unexpected.

I hadn’t anticipated carrying such feelings when I left home to study. But as I lived and learned, I realized that I had grown quite attached to my new family and relatives here.

I traced the longing words with trembling fingers. The moisture in my eyes made me feel young again, so I looked up. The library chair supported my body comfortably. It felt as if I were sitting on a cloud, so at ease.

If I had been my past self, I would have thought that such a soft chair, neither a bed nor a seat, was strange and mocked it as a kind of idle indulgence. But now, it felt completely familiar, and I had no hesitation in sitting there.

I let out a long sigh, pushing aside the burning heartache, and opened the letter from my youngest sibling, Asdel. It made me smile immediately.

The letter seemed to have been stamped with a child’s palm, as if ink had been smeared across several handprints.

Yes, it was still too early for the child to write properly. The larger handprint next to the small one was probably Michael’s, who had been watching over his little sibling just as I had done.

Next to the prints, there were neat letters spelling the names of Father, Mother, me, Michael, and Asdel.

The letter also had drawings of flowers, stars, and some shapes that were unrecognizable, scattered all over it.

In another letter, there were my name and others written repeatedly, as if practicing. Despite the clumsy handwriting, it was clear that the effort to copy was sincere, and I couldn’t help but feel touched and proud.

I kept reading the letters in delight, and it wasn’t long before dinner arrived, brought to me by Sheiden.

On the last weekend of the month, my friends, concerned for me, suggested that I rest and relax by having the letters I wrote the previous day delivered directly to the Siron Post Office (*a logistics and distribution organization for the martial world. It is used to send goods and letters while avoiding bandits and thieves), and so I agreed.

At this point, I had calmed down considerably compared to when I first entered the academy.

The thirteen years I spent at the Ernhardt estate were prosperous, but the knights there were all mediocre at best, and with only about fifty knights in total, I was always worried.

With so many servants—valets, maids, and attendants—it seemed difficult for me to protect everyone with my own hands.

I had often wondered what I would do if enemies scaled the walls, and I realized that worrying alone and surveying the land had been in vain. My heart settled.

What cannot be seen from within must be understood from the outside.

Not long ago, Sheiden Rosé had comforted me by speaking of the prosperity of the Ernhardt family. Now that I had learned about history in my lessons, I realized his words were true.

Ernhardt was the owner of vast lands with fruit farms, such as vineyards.

The heir to the family title had to learn from an early age how to handle the damage caused by pests to the crops, how to properly grow fruits, and what kind of fragrance the wine or canned fruits made from them should have in order to fetch the highest price.

Michael’s letters mentioned that he was learning just as I was. I had never learned such things, nor did I find them interesting. I was secretly relieved that Michael was handling that for me.

The nearby lands were owned by friendly families whose territories were snugly pressed together, side by side.

From a young age, I had often seen the faces of Logan’s Serbel Count family, my childhood companion, and now I saw the same from Sheiden’s Rosé Count family, as well as my maternal grandfather’s Valentia Duke family, whose estate spanned a vast expanse of lush greenery and endless plains.

It felt a little embarrassing to realize that I had surrounded myself with so many defenses in a place where there were no foreign threats.

In the central lands, personal strength and martial power were paramount, but here, things were different.

Laws and the art of negotiation wove strong bonds between individuals through words and written agreements.

Though sometimes trust was broken or deception played a role, here, vengeance wasn’t about breaking limbs or severing necks. Instead, it was about presenting a new contract.

I felt that I needed to learn more.

I wanted to learn not from books, not in a vague sense, but through firsthand experience—by walking, seeing, and learning with my own hands and eyes. I decided to set aside my impatience.

For now, I was at peace, assured that my immediate safety was secured.

That day, Sheiden didn’t pick out my clothes for me, but offered to check if I selected them myself. I agreed.

He said I wasn’t bad at picking, but questioned why I always wanted to match everything in the same color from head to toe. He suggested I change my cravat, and I decided to do so.

* * *

Even on a day when the night market wasn’t open, the streets of the capital were bustling.

The street vendors who usually lined both sides of the road had disappeared, so the already wide street felt even wider. There was more space between people, which made it pleasant.

Once I had sent the letters I had carefully held onto, addressed to their respective recipients, my hands felt light, and it seemed like I could do anything.

This time, I was accompanied by Sheiden and Benjamin.

Lately, I had been receiving a lot of help from Benjamin Claudian, a fellow martial artist, in developing a new sword technique. I had grown quite fond of him. Benjamin was quiet, and unlike others, he didn’t waste time on trivial matters.

When he suggested we go out together, I accepted without hesitation.

However, privately, I thought that although Sheiden wasn’t a bad companion, if I had gone out with him alone, it would have been hard to hide my annoyance. It was difficult to engage with everything he said, so it felt good to have someone else along.

“Since we’re out, let’s buy everything we need all at once.”

“There’s no need to send the servants for that.”

“Still, it’s different when you pick things out yourself. Besides, I’ve broken two swords recently by accident, so I need to visit a weapons shop.”

I had casually mentioned the broken swords, not thinking much of it, but Benjamin’s reply made me realize I had made a mistake.

I remembered that when we experimented with imbuing swords with aura in the same way I would use magic, we had already broken two swords. I had no spare swords, so I had used his.