The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 211


The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin

Chapter 211. What Do You Desire? (1)

Arin awoke in the Ducal Condor residence a day after the unexpected reunion with Sian. Gazing out the window, she instinctively rubbed her neck, still feeling the vivid trace of his tightening grip from the day before. In the midst of her unsettled emotions, Arin could only let out a mournful sigh.

“Your Highness. It’s Resmus.”

Startled by a voice beyond the door, Arin hurried toward it.

“I apologize for leaving my post.”

“Are you out of your mind? Resmus!”

Despite the princess’s scolding, Resmus maintained a steadfast response.

Although his life wasn’t in danger, he had been instructed to rest and recuperate for a few days, but he had returned in less than one, as if he needed no such thing.

“My basic recovery is already complete thanks to the healers of our territory. Captain Condor also said that this should suffice…”

“Did I say that?”

Condor himself entered following Resmus, the master of the mansion.

“What you may not realize is that in the long term, this behavior whittles away at your body. Serving your lord is all well and good, but first and foremost is your own health. Only then can you protect your liege.”

“There are many knights who can protect Her Highness in my stead. However, there is only one master I serve, which is Her Highness. From the moment I decided to become her sword, I stopped concerning myself with my own well-being.”

“A bit too idealistic, but it’s a commendable mindset for a knight.”

To Arin, however, the situation wasn’t entirely amusing.

Would she and Resmus have continued this connection had Sian never existed? The sudden negative thought made her shake her head.

“I’ve ensured strict secrecy regarding your stay in Aquizzel. The affairs that transpired there won’t spread to the capital. Though, by rights, you should be returning as quickly as possible?”

“Yes. You’re correct.”

“I’ll assist you. I can get you to the outskirts of the capital by nightfall.”

“I will not forget this kindness. ”

Arin bowed in gratitude to Condor.

“Aren’t you curious about him?”

At that, both women’s gazes wavered.

“Have you found him?”

“Everyone is scouring for him, but I advise not to get your hopes up. I may have raised the subject, but it’s best not to expect too much.”

Arin bit her lip, trying not to show her feelings.

“It might not be a consolation, but he didn’t come to kill you from the start.”

Condor observed as Arin tried to mask her disbelief.

“At least, while he was talking to me, he seemed to harbor no such intentions. Even when you knocked on the door, he appeared quite anxious. It’s possible that initially, he only intended to watch over you.”

Arin appeared lost as if unable to comprehend the idea.

“Had I not interfered out of whim, this would not have transpired. My complete oversight. If you wish, accuse me of this crime when you return to the capital.”

“You say this knowing I wouldn’t do that, right?”

Condor smiled slyly, and finally, Arin allowed a faint smile to grace her lips.

She soon turned her gaze to Sian’s cloak neatly placed on the bed.

“Is that his?”


“He covered your face so others wouldn’t see you at the end, didn’t he?”

“That seems to be the case…”

“First he charges at you as if to kill, then flips to consideration. He’s indeed inscrutable.”

Concurring, Arin spoke softly.

“What does Sian live for, I wonder?”

A question lingering since their first meeting. Why pursue paths shrouded in the black mist that denies the light?

Currently, Arin had no answers.

* * *

Nine years in the past.

I, the once disgraced, undertook the regressive return to my past—a rebirth of sorts.

The single aim of my life since my regression was vengeance.

Aschel Vert.

He tossed me aside after a lifetime spent in servitude—not for my own sake, but for his.

I intended to ruin everything he sought to achieve, to crush all his plans with my own hands.

That’s why I didn’t kill him.

I wanted him to realize he couldn’t defeat me and to despair in that realization.

Then I would tell him:

I’m but an ordinary human that knows your truth and holds unbridled hate for it.

Yes, a human.

A creature that knows joy, anger, sadness—possessing very real emotions.

Hesitation for an assassin spells death, but I’ve come to embrace even such feelings, becoming a true human.

The chieftain said I needed to understand my egoism.

Preoccupied with my own strength, I cared not for those around me—foolishly jeopardizing greater causes for a single ounce of warmth.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Not even slightly.

It’s all unfamiliar, necessitating some acclimation, not pointless brooding over days and nights.

At the end of the lingering fog, I faced a familiar altar and face.

A face that appeared surprised to see me arrive.

(Why is it that the child who always growled at my sight is nowhere to be seen today?)

He was talking of Ceyram.

(Have the two of you had a falling out?)

“If that were the case, I’d be relieved.”

I was still unsure of how to mend things with a woman’s heart.

(While I’d like to offer advice on such matters, given your expression, it seems the mood isn’t right for it.)

“Since when did you care about such things?”

I said, lifting my chin in disbelief.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

(Are you talking about this life?)

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Aer began to kick his foot and continued.

(Of course, I remember every detail. Which part should I recall?)

“The part where you promised to help me with my endeavor.”

The corner of his mouth hinted at a subtle movement.

(Yes, but didn’t you say that you didn’t know my desire?)

“I know. In fact…”

Aer leaned forward, lips curling with intrigue.

(Was this divulged to you by my former self?)

“No. Neither then nor now did you ever utter a word. At least not to me…”


“If I thought about the reason why Mist was formed, it should’ve been apparent.”

(Entertaining. Then speak. What is it that I desire?)

I crossed my arms, answering coolly.

“A retired knight once posed a question to me: Can we truly believe that the black mist we hear about is genuine? If I had to answer then, I would say…”

(And your response?)

“I don’t know.”


“And he probably would’ve continued. Before labeling the mist as evil, can we confidently say that the light represents all that is good?”

The look in his eyes changed subtly.

“You want to shift the paradigm, don’t you?”

In this world made by the victors—the light—the defeated mist has been scorned and dismissed as negative.

From the vantage point of those overshadowed, there’s only one thing they could feel.

“To establish a new order, one centered not on light but on mist…”

Aer wrinkled his brow, tilting his head.

(But aren’t those just superficial reasons?)


These are basic precepts that every initiate learns upon joining Mist, hardly the true will of the deity.

What this insane god really wants isn’t a world transformed but something beyond it.

“You’re hoping for another war between gods and demons, aren’t you?”

(Why would you think that?)

“If the world was centered on mist, the other gods wouldn’t stand for it.”

That would provoke divine intervention, and such interventions aren’t merely armchair theories.

They’ll execute another purification, striving to erase the mist from existence.

Through this, the god aims to ascend above the rest.

Simple, really.

For the humans among us, consider it like the tale of an exiled prince from a civil war, biding time and thriving in the shadows, only to then revolt and seize the throne—a cliché story.

Haven’t I always said?

Humans are the creatures that most resemble the nature of the gods.

Our actions are no different from their own.


Aer responded exuberantly.

(So you knew this all along and still chose to follow me? It couldn’t have been pleasant for you. Why then, do you agree to help me?)

“There’s nothing to it. You took me in.”

Without you, there would be no me by now.

I cannot live as a human in a world centered around light.

So I’ll create a world centered around mist.

Even if that defies divine law, it’s irrelevant.

In that world,

I will live proudly.

For no one else but me.

“That’s why I, as your successor, will state this clearly to you.”

(What is it?)

“Just watch.”


“Do not interfere—remain the bystander you are. Eventually, what you desire will come to pass.”

(Of course, standing aside is what I do best.)

Aer confirmed the matter as naturally within his capabilities.

(Are you going to stop the chieftain—your master?)

“I was never good at following orders anyway.”

(I suspect he won’t be pleased.)

“That’s why I’m saying this. Stay out of it.”

I pondered.

Was the chieftain’s exclusion of me from this mission merely because I couldn’t kill Princess Arin?

The answer: No.

She seeks not only Arin’s death but also to prepare turning winds that will shift the mist’s fate.

And that wind will, without doubt, have an immense impact on me.

I am not content just to observe.

With those words, I turned away.

Aer neither reached out nor spoke as I walked further.

Unable to see behind my head, I didn’t witness his expression, but I’d wager he was smiling.

After a few more steps, I emerged not in the void but into sunlight-drenched surroundings.

There, greeting me with a bright smile was Hastia.

‘Have you concluded your conversation well?’

“More or less.”

‘Such uncertainty isn’t good! Still, looking at your face, Sian, it doesn’t seem there was much trouble!’

I responded with a slight upward twitch of my mouth.

‘So, where shall we head from here?’

Hastia looked at me with bright, expectant eyes.

As always, I spoke plainly.

“To the capital.”

(To be continued)


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