The Master of Language - T.M.L Chapter 2 (Part 1):

What is this?

Why am I still alive?

With a deeply furrowed face, I slowly opened my eyes.

Dozens of weapons were floating around me within a one-meter radius.

A dagger with a chipped blade, rusted arrow tips, heavy sandbags, and sharp seashells.

Huh?

“C-Count, sir?”

I never expected the rude captain who was about to Stab me could speak so politely.

A man in a white suit was slowly walking toward us from the end of the captain’s gaze.

His clothes, reflecting sunlight softly, gave off an aura that was almost holy.

It was such a mysterious atmosphere that one might believe he was an agent of the gods.

As he approached, the people on deck naturally stepped aside.

Compared to him, the captain and the crew looked like filth.

The very air around him was different from the captain, who had pushed people aside as he walked.

He finally reached me and looked down directly.

“Similar to my son. Are you a mage?”

Thud.

Thud, thud.

At his words, all the weapons floating in the air fell to the ground.

Now I realized that it wasn’t me using magic, but this man.

“N-no.”

“Then how are you using magic? Do you have a treasure or something?”

What is he talking about?

Wasn’t he the one who used magic?

“N-no. I just… I just wanted to live so badly…”

“So?”

“I don’t know. I might have been a mage before.”

“Might have been?”

“It’s just… my mind is so confused.”

Now that I think about it, my headache has disappeared.

Now that I think I’ve avoided the immediate danger, a subtle pain started to rise from my thigh.

“Looks painful.”

“…..„

His gaze shifted to my thigh.

Naturally, my thoughts followed his.

If I pull out the embedded blade, I’ll bleed terribly, but leaving it risks infection.

There’s no doctor on this ship either.

“Captain.”

At the Count’s call, the captain scurried over like a rat and bowed politely.

“Yes, Count.”

“He looks like a slave to me, I’ll take him.”

The captain glanced at me.

His expression showed no intention of simply giving me up.

He was going to throw me into the sea, but now he’s hesitant?

Bastard.

“But he’s a living slave, you should pay for him.”

The Count slowly turned his gaze to the captain.

As soon as their eyes met, the captain trembled.

Well, anyone would wet their pants if they received such a cold stare.

“Very well. But you’ll have to keep him breathing until we reach land. If he dies, it’s the captain’s responsibility. Compensation is three times the original price, as is customary.”

“…”

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

The captain smiled awkwardly like a puppy.

“Then let’s do it for half price. Boys.”

The captain, saying so, signaled to the crew.

They all slowly approached me.

“You’re lucky.”

“Magic, huh. What a joke.”

One by one they muttered comments as they picked up their weapons from the floor.

Ah.

I survived.

I sighed in relief, which made the pain in my thigh more noticeable.

Damn it.

“I am Count Furst. And you?”

The Count had come close without me noticing, extending his gloved hand toward me.

His hand was white as white jade.

He seemed like a neat person who wouldn’t even take off his gloves under the sunlight.

Although he’s offering his hand, I feel bad taking it with my filthy, soiled hand.

“My name is Ran.”

“Ran? That’s your name. What’s your surname?”

The captain behind him snickered. He must have thought it was a noble’s nasty joke.

Well, asking a slave for his surname is like asking a fish where its legs are.

But I couldn’t laugh.

I was rather chilled to the bone.

Because I had a surname.

“I don’t have one.”

The Count extended his hand further.

“Do you think I would extend my hand to a slave without a surname, Ran? There’s something about a person that can’t be hidden. Like a fragrance soaked into the bones, no matter how much you wash it off.”

“…”

His eyes and expression showed that he was absolutely convinced.

No one had ever noticed until now, but he saw it in an instant.

“What is your surname? I need to know if there’s any enmity between our families.”

Gulp.

The sound of my swallowing was as loud as thunder.

I looked up at Count Furst.

The eyes of a noble are unforgiving. He seemed indifferent to whether I lived or died. My life hinged on my answer.

“Prejean. I’m of Franche descent.”

The Count nodded slowly.

“Prejean… I remember. Your family was burned to ashes after getting caught by the king playing around with the Queen of Franche, wasn’t it? They used to be quite a prestigious family.”

The surname Prejean brought nothing but disdain and mockery. There was no benefit in revealing it.

I tried to shrug my stiff shoulders.

“My father died disgracefully. I barely remember his face.”

Surprisingly, there was no change in the Count’s expression.

He’s quite a gentleman.

He could have openly mocked me, but he didn’t.

“How long do you plan to leave my hand hanging?”

His voice was devoid of emotion.

His tone was so even, it sounded like a cave speaking.

I grabbed his hand quickly.

And barely managed to stand up.

***

A soft bed.

It feels like my body could sink right into it, never to emerge again.

It wasn’t completely unfamiliar.

I had faint memories of the feel of a bed from my childhood.

“Do you like it?”

The Count, sitting by my bedside, was wiping his hand with a cloth.

The hand he had shaken with me.

He went on about innate qualities earlier, but oh well.

Can’t be helped – my hand was filthy.

I asked in a low voice.

“Will I live?”

The Count looked at my thigh and said.

“If you had hit an artery, you’d already be dead from blood loss. Even if we pull out the knife, there shouldn’t be too much bleeding. The problem is tetanus… The captain wouldn’t have cleaned the blade thoroughly for an enemy. Like most sailor’s weapons, it’s probably rusty.”

“Then?”

“For a thigh wound… the incubation period would be about a week. We’ll barely make it to the New Continent by then, so even if you have convulsions, I can handle it with magic. For now, eat this at least.”

The Count took an orange out of his pocket.

On a long voyage, an orange is worth as much as its weight in gold.

The sailors outside would probably kill for a single drop of this orange juice.

I stared at it wide-eyed and dumbstruck for a while.

The Count used that moment of distraction.

“Ugh.”

In one swift motion, he pulled the knife out from my thigh, then nonchalantly picked up a bottle of rum that was on the floor.

Before I could say anything, he poured the rum over my thigh.

“Whoa. That’s oddly hot.”

“…..”

Count Furst looked at me with surprise.

I said, trying to sound indifferent.

“I’m used to pain.”

He looked at me for a moment and then said.

“If you’re not going to eat this orange, I will.”

Despite the pain, I quickly reached out and took the orange from him. I bit into it, peel and all.

Juice spilled onto the bed.

It felt as wasteful as blood.

“There’s more, so don’t worry. Eating fruit will help you fight off infection. As long as you keep eating what I give you, you should be fine. First, we need to stop the bleeding.”

The Count stood up and took a clean handkerchief from a drawer.

Meanwhile, I bent my knee and looked at the wound on my thigh.

It was at least three centimeters deep.

This won’t do.

I tore the clothes around the wound and peeled off the scabs.

Then I picked up the rum bottle and poured it into the wound again.

It felt like my wound was burning.

I winced, and looking to the side, Count Furst was standing quietly, handkerchief in hand, watching me.

“Count?”

He finally bent down toward me.

“You’re quite skilled at this sort of thing.”

“Well, it just happened.”

“…”

Without a word, he wiped the wound with the handkerchief and tied it behind my thigh.

He was kind.

Every action was full of kindness.

So it wouldn’t be bad to ask directly.

“You wouldn’t be kind to me for nothing. What do you want from me?”

Dangun

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