After running away from Madam’s estate, they eventually slowed to a halt. Both of them bent over with their hands on their knees and breathed frantically.

  “Why… hah… why are we running?” Mary wheezed, trying to catch her breath.

  “Shut up.”

  Arnold cut her off immediately. There was no way he could tell her that someone in that estate had sensed their presence, or that a pair of invisible eyes had nearly spotted them through his mouse.

  And what could she do? He was the “wealthy young master” in her eyes. His actions didn’t need justification to do whatever he wanted.

  “Ugh, what an abuse of power,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, sir!” She blurted out, stiffening like a soldier being inspected.

  Arnold cast one last look over his shoulder. The dirt path behind them curved through the rows of houses and trees. Not a single suspicious figure followed them. Only lively village noise and a drifting smell of baked bread filled the air.

  He exhaled in relief.

  ‘I swear, I’m not going anywhere near that place again.’

  Afterward, they resumed wandering through the village. They moved past the muddy roads, wooden houses with hay-thatched roofs, open yards scattered with laundry lines, and the faint stench of livestock drifting from pens. The sky grew dimmer, and half the day passed like this.

  Eventually, Mary stopped and twirled on her heel, facing him with a bright smile.

  “Well, that's all I've got to show you, sir! Do you want to ask anything, sir? Actually, please don’t! I need to run home before sunset, or I’ll get scolded!”

  ‘This girl…’ Arnold clicked his tongue.

  “As agreed, here’s your wage.”

  He reached into his coat and pulled out several coins, placing them onto her palm.

  “Wow!”

  Her eyes sparkled at the sight of the payment. It was one shilling and six coppies in total. Enough to feed her for days.

  “Thank you kindly, sir! A fine day to you! I'll see you at the school tomorrow, then!”

  She beamed as she gave him an awkward curtsy, then began to timidly shuffle away.

  “Wait.”

  “Y… yes?” She jumped, startled like a frightened rabbit. She turned around, her head tilted anxiously.

  ‘Why is she scared now?’

  “Ah, it's only... I was afraid you might've changed your mind, sir. About the coin," she admitted with a strained smile.

  ‘Do I really look that bad to you…? Well, I suppose I do.’

  Considering the bandages wrapped around his head, the faint burn stench on his skin, and his bald head, anyone would be cautious around him. Especially when he wore noble attire and acted like a wealthy young master.

  “Give me a flower,” he said plainly.

  The girl’s eyes widened. Her mouth fell open in disbelief, as if he had just asked her to hand over a piece of the moon. She blinked rapidly.

  ‘...’

  "Begging your pardon, sir! It’s just… I never would have thought a gentleman like you would require one!” She babbled.

  “Didn’t you say earlier that I needed one?”

  "Just a bit of sales patter, sir! You've such a ludicrous look; I'd never have guessed you had a sweetheart in mind... oops!"

  Arnold’s brow twitched.

  ‘This girl is asking for death.’

  “You’re really eager to die, huh?” He couldn’t help but blurt out.

  Mary burst into a suppressed laugh, shaking her head vigorously.

  “Oh no, never, sir! I wouldn't dare!”

  “Dammit.’ He grimaced. Truly, this kid possessed no fear, only a talent for running her mouth.

  Still smiling, Mary lifted her flower basket toward him.

  “Here you are, sir! Please, choose whichever you fancy!”

  “Only one?”

  “Times are hard these days, sir! I can't be giving away my whole basket, or I'll be going hungry myself!”

  ‘You’re going to die of rudeness before that.’ He rolled his eyes.

  Arnold scanned the flower basket.

  At first, he had no intention of taking any. However, just now, he had found a familiar flower among them, a kind of flower that held the most meaning to him.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  There, nestled among the assortment of colorful blooms, was a familiar shade of blue, petals like soft wings, and a tiny white star glowing gently in its center.

  ‘…It really is this one.’

  He reached in and plucked a single blossom from the basket.

  A blue flower with five delicate petals and a white star-shaped core.

  ‘Forget-me-not.’

  Mary gasped.

  “Oh my, you know your flowers, sir! This one means…”

  “I know what this is. Stop it.” Arnold cut her off.

  She quickly retrieved the basket and gave him a curt bow.

  “Thank you for your patronage, sir!”

  With that, the girl skipped away, her braids bouncing behind her as she disappeared down one of the narrow paths.

  Arnold watched her leave, then turned on his heel and tucked the flower carefully into his pocket.

  He walked toward the bushy stretch of land near the edge of the village. The place was filled with shrubs, tangled roots, and clusters of small trees that grew too close together. Unlike the lively village behind him, this side felt empty of people.

  Well, not entirely empty.

  “Young master, please halt your step.”

  ‘Here it is.’

  Arnold turned around. He had chosen this secluded area on purpose.

  He had noticed them following him from the very beginning. They kept their distance and never approached while Mary was walking beside him. It was interesting, these thugs did not want to involve villagers, or perhaps they were strictly forbidden from harming them.

  Only when he parted ways with Mary and walked alone did they finally make their move.

  From behind the trees, four men emerged. They wore filthy rags patched with mismatched fabric. Their hair was unkempt and greasy, some tied with strings. Each man clutched a crude weapon: a rusted knife, a chipped sickle, and a makeshift club carved from a tree branch.

  They surrounded Arnold with sluggish coordination, like stray dogs circling potential prey. The leader, Davis stepped forward. He was a thin man with brown hair tied loosely behind his head. His sunken eyes studied Arnold’s figure.

  The man then gave him a formal, if somewhat stiff, bow.

  ‘He actually bowed?’

  “Please forgive our forwardness, young master. But kindly part with your purse and your accessories; give them to us.”

  ‘How civilized?’

  Arnold couldn’t help but be surprised. When it came to thieves, he expected ruffians and brutes. There would be shouting, spitting, threats, and blades raised to the throat.

  Yet, these men? They bowed and made polite requests as if they were servants greeting a noble customer. How in the world?

  But what? Arnold only smirked briefly.

  “No.”

  The leader paused. It looked like he genuinely hadn’t expected that answer.

  To be honest, after facing Glen, Benjamin, and whatever things were in the Baroness’s estate, Arnold had developed a constant sense of caution.

  That’s why, at this moment, Izzy wanted to test her actual combat progress in this newfound body.

  To Izzy, Arnold’s body was durable but not particularly strong. He had the advantage of a short stature, but that was all. He was shorter than in Izzy’s previous life, and much slower, less dexterous.

  And who better to test that on than a group of backwater thugs?

  ‘Unless I somehow meet another Glen… that would be ridiculous.’ Still, Arnold believed he could either fight or flee now that he understood Glen’s real strength.

  The leader straightened his back and growled with a serious tone.

  “Then please, bear us no ill will. This is your choice.”

  The men tightened their formation, stepping closer. Two of them raised their weapons slightly. They crept around him like starving wolves, waiting for the command to pounce.

  ‘That guy…’

  Arnold remained calm. His gaze stayed fixed on the leader.

  In these situations, the most dangerous man was usually the leader. Especially someone smart enough to show restraint until the villager girl left.

  Arnold clasped his hands behind his back and loosened his shoulders. With his Field Vision covering 15 meters around him, he could see every movement of the thugs as clearly as if they stood right in front of him.

  And their posture… was too amateurish. They didn’t know how to hold their killing tools efficiently; their movements were awkward, rife with openings.

  Arnold, or Izzy in her past life, had already experienced war and crude training from a young age. He was a rat, a scavenger, after all. She knew how to kill, how to move, how to shoot, and how to run away. A whole lifetime of dirty tactics to survive.

  1v4? Heh. Izzy snickered. This also contributed to the fact that, although Arnold was the one fighting them, Izzy and her main body had no risk at all.

  “Ha!”

  Rudo, the muscular one standing behind Arnold, lunged forward with full confidence. His unkempt beard jutted out wildly, and his curly brown hair stuck to his sweat-greased forehead. His bulky arms flexed as he charged, convinced he could overpower this short boy with a bandaged head using sheer brute strength.

  However, contrary to his expectation, at the exact moment Rudo’s hands reached out, his foot slipped on nothing. His weight tipped forward. Instead of reaching toward Arnold, he pitched headfirst toward him.

  Rudo’s chin collided directly with Arnold’s fist, which was still clasped behind his back.

  *thud*

  Rudo’s eyes rolled upward. His vision darkened completely. Without uttering a single sound, his large body fell sideways and hit the ground with a heavy thump, sprawling at Arnold’s feet.

  The remaining two thugs reacted immediately. They lunged at him from each side, one wielding a crooked knife, the other gripping a rusty sickle.

  The knifeman charged straight in and thrust the blade toward Arnold’s ribs with all his force.

  Arnold swiftly turned his body, letting the knife stab empty air. At the same time, he extended his foot outward, obstructing the man’s legs.

  The thug’s shin collided with Arnold’s foot. A split second later, the knifeman's balance was gone as he pitched forward.

  He sprawled onto the dirt, his face hitting the dirty ground with a dull thump. His knife flew from his grasp and landed a short distance away.

  On the other side, the sickle man swung downward with a powerful arc, aiming for Arnold’s shoulder.

  Arnold drew back his leg and turned his body again, stepping aside as the blade carved through empty space. The sickle man’s momentum pulled him downward. His posture collapsed into a wide crouch as he struggled to recover from the failed strike.

  Arnold stomped his boot, took one step forward, and drove his shoulder into the man’s face.

  The sickle man’s jaw snapped shut with a muffled crack. His body rolled sideways from the force, hitting the ground as his sickle skidded several feet away.

  Throughout the fight, Arnold hadn't released his clasped hands.

  He straightened and looked toward the only man left standing…

  The leader had fallen to his knees. His forehead pressed so low to the dirt it looked like he wanted to merge with the soil itself.

  “Please forgive us! Young master! ”

  “…”

  Arnold was at a loss for words.

  Sales patter: refers to the fast, continuous, and often persuasive speech used by salespeople to promote and sell a product or service.

  Arnold is cheating in this fight. This will be explained later when the issues come up. I also forgot it, but yes, Arnold is (somewhat) bald.

  I also just realized...I use too much 'Oh, Ah.' Kinda need to remove them a bit.

  Lol the thugs were too trivial. I don't even assign a name for them.

  Thieves is what the villagers call them, while thug is what Izzy calls them. But I will see if it's confusing later for me.