Free Web Novel"Fred, do you think these two girls really need our help?"
Reinhardt posed this question to Frederick beside him.
His voice was relatively calm.
But his tone was thick with confusion.
Frederick blinked.
He had no idea how to respond.
He turned his head and looked at the messy-haired, black-haired youth beside him.
"Ah?"
He said.
"What do you mean?"
Reinhardt didn't answer immediately.
He continued to stare ahead.
Staring at the manor situated in the hills.
The night was deep.
The winter sky looked as if it had been splashed with ink; dark clouds obscured the moon and stars, with only the gas lamps in the manor emitting a warm yellow glow.
Light spilled from the windows, casting irregular squares of light onto the snow.
Surrounding them were bare woods.
The wind blew through the branches, making a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ rustling sound.
It was quite cold.
Frederick wrapped his coat tighter.
They were behind a cluster of bushes outside the manor's perimeter wall.
They had been crouching there for twenty minutes.
The branches of the bushes pricked his legs painfully.
Melted snow seeped into his boots, and his toes were numb from the cold.
Frederick felt like he was about to turn into an ice sculpture.
A white pigeon perched on his shoulder.
It was fluffy.
And quite warm.
It was preening its feathers with its beak, occasionally tilting its head to look at him before continuing its grooming.
Its movements were very earnest, as if it were performing some important task.
Another pigeon perched on top of Reinhardt's head.
To be precise, it was perched on his messy nest of black hair.
It seemed to like it there.
It treated that mass of hair like a bird's nest.
Every now and then, it would scratch with its claws to adjust its position.
Reinhardt's hair became even more of a mess.
"Reinhardt."
Frederick said.
"What exactly did you see?"
"Could you explain?"
Reinhardt withdrew his gaze.
He turned his head and looked at Frederick.
A complex emotion flickered in those deep gray eyes.
The pigeon on his head swayed due to his movement and cooed twice, as if in protest.
"I saw—"
He paused.
"A very professional infiltration operation."
Frederick's expression froze.
"What?"
"Or to put it another way,"
Reinhardt corrected himself,
"a planned, efficient, and non-lethal clearing operation."
"Those two girls... they're knocking the guards unconscious one by one, like they're thumping radishes."
Frederick opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
"You mean—"
"Yes."
Reinhardt nodded.
The pigeon on his head swayed again. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
"Inside the entire manor, there are twelve guards in total: four at the entrance and eight patrolling inside."
"Right now, only two people are still awake inside the manor."
"And both are playing cards in the first-floor lounge, completely unaware of what's happened."
He paused.
"I just saw the whole process."
"What whole process?"
Frederick asked.
"The second-floor corridor."
Reinhardt said.
"A guard was on patrol."
"The blonde girl walked out from around a corner."
"She was carrying a tray."
"On the tray were a teapot and cups."
"She looked completely harmless."
"And then?"
"The guard saw her and was stunned for a moment."
Reinhardt continued.
"He was probably wondering how this kidnapped young lady had gotten out."
"Just as he was about to speak—"
"The girl smiled."
"And then—"
Reinhardt paused.
"She threw the tray."
"Threw it?"
"Yes."
Reinhardt said.
"The teapot flipped in the air, spilling tea all over the floor."
"The guard instinctively went to catch the tray."
"In that very instant, the blonde girl had already appeared in front of the guard."
"She was so fast that I almost couldn't see her clearly."
"Her right hand grabbed his collar while her left hand formed a fist and struck his temple."
"The guard collapsed."
"She even supported him, lowering him gently to the ground."
"Then the red-haired girl walked out from another corner."
"She was holding a rope."
"The two of them worked together to tie him up and stuffed him into the bathtub in the nearby bathroom."
"The whole thing took less than thirty seconds."
Frederick fell silent.
The wind blew.
The branches of the bushes swayed.
A few snowflakes landed on his shoulder.
The pigeon on his shoulder ruffled its feathers, shaking off the snowflakes.
Then it continued preening.
"So,"
he said,
"we traveled all this way,"
"freezing like dogs in the middle of the night,"
"and it turns out—"
"It turns out those two girls are perfectly safe,"
Reinhardt said.
"And their combat strength is greater than we imagined."
"To be honest, it's a good thing."
Frederick fell silent again.
He looked up at the sky.
Took a deep breath.
And exhaled.
White mist drifted in the air.
"Alright,"
he said,
"I still have one more question."
"What?"
"The girl we're supposed to save..."
"Which one is she?"
Reinhardt's lips twitched.
"The blonde one."
"Victoria von Hohenheim."
"If I told you her other identities, you wouldn't remember them anyway; just know that she's Little Pa's friend."
"Little Pa's friend?"
Frederick stroked his chin, then had a sudden realization.
"Oh, I see."
"Then it's not surprising."
"It's perfectly normal for Little Pa's friends to be a bit unusual."
The pigeon on his shoulder cooed twice at the perfect moment and pecked at his ear.
As if expressing its dissatisfaction.
Frederick ignored the pigeon.
He continued asking.
"So what do we do now?"
"Are we still going in?"
Reinhardt didn't answer immediately.
He turned his gaze back to the manor.
Those deep gray eyes narrowed slightly.
The power of the Path of the Hermit flowed deep within his pupils.
Invisible and formless.
But very much real.
He could "see" everything in the manor.
Everyone's position.
Everyone's status.
Those who were alive, unconscious, alert, or relaxed.
Like a three-dimensional map composed of points of light and shadow, it slowly rotated in his mind.
The second-floor corridor.
The two girls were moving.
The blonde one was walking in front, holding something in her hand.
The red-haired one followed behind, carrying a tray.
Their movements were perfectly coordinated.
As if they had rehearsed it countless times.
The first-floor lounge.
The two guards were still playing cards.
One of them had just played a card.
The other cursed.
They had no idea. freewёbnoνel.com
That their colleagues had been stuffed one by one into storage rooms, closets, and even bathtubs.
"I think—"
Reinhardt said.
"We can wait for a bit."
"Although the guards inside have mostly been dealt with, the four at the entrance are all skilled hands. Since both of us are currently injured, they might not be easy to handle."
"Once Pavela arrives and we act together, it will be much safer."
"Anyway, they're quite sa—"
Before Reinhardt could finish his sentence, his expression changed.
"Wait—"
He suddenly turned his head toward the manor's main entrance.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone I can't see clearly has arrived."
Reinhardt lowered his voice,
"The guards at the entrance just all went down in an instant!"
"What?!"
Frederick's expression also darkened instantly.
"Are they still alive?"
"Hard to say."
As he spoke, Reinhardt had already stood up.
He stared toward the main entrance, a certain light flashing in his deep gray eyes.
"This feeling... it must be someone at Sequence V or higher at the very least."
"We have to change the plan; there's no time to wait for Pavela."
