I Blue : Reincarnated as a Cursed Crit-Based Swordwoman-Chapter 4: A Persistent Guest

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Crosses bricked together. That was the motif he had woken up to many times last month, which was why he had, once again, come to a realization: he had failed.

Well, that was to be expected. One could only hope to go so far with a pierced stomach and a few broken bones. Had he been in his old world, he wouldn't have been able to run as much as he did after that fall from the fence. Little did he know there was a forest outside the manor, and that said forest was full of servants.

"(What to do now?)" he asked himself.

He had known from the beginning that he couldn't allow himself to fail, yet things clearly hadn't gone as planned.

What could he do now? At first, he had been beaten, then neglected. What would they do to him now that he had attempted to flee? More beatings? Lock him permanently inside his room?

He shivered at the thought.

"(Who thought that having an HP bar would be a good idea?!)" he wondered bitterly.

If he was beaten, his HP wouldn't easily drop below 1. That was something the people of this world must have noticed. Unlike him, they could immediately heal themselves or call for a healer to fix broken bones and whatnot.

Injuries probably meant far less to them than to the people in his old world.

Just imagine—what if, in his old life, his mother had known she could break his fingers and then throw a cheap healing potion at him? He wasn't sure he could have lasted until his 21st birthday in that case. And that was with someone he knew lov—no, someone he knew didn't hate him as much as his current mother.

But let's say they didn't get violent. Let's say they just locked him in his room.

That wouldn't be any better.

From what he could tell, people here didn't absolutely need to eat or drink. Yet they still felt hunger and thirst, which could affect their HP bar but not outright kill them.

Well, he wasn't sure about that, but nobody had bothered giving him food for the last two months—almost as if they knew he wouldn't die. At first, he thought it was on the mistress's orders—and it probably was—but if her goal was to starve him to death, why had she called for a healer when he got "sick"?

His interpretation was that she wasn't trying to actively kill him and that eating was more of a mental well-being matter than a survival one. If so, locking him up would actually be a combination of many types of mental torture with constant hunger, and constant thirst assaulting him.

"(Heh, jails mustn't be fun here...)"

He couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought, though his stomach hurt with each spasm.

"(Come on, it's not the time to be joking around!)" he berated himself, but his mind couldn't focus. His hands—well, his body's frail hands—were trembling like leaves in an invisible wind, ready to fall off at any moment.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Three quick sounds cut through his thoughts. He almost jumped off the bed in surprise. Were they here already? Was this the last time he would see his foot open?

"Hm?" a voice came from behind the door, but nothing else.

The room remained silent for about a minute before three more knocks resonated.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"..."

Noah stayed silent, furrowing his eyebrows.

Since when did they bother to knock? The only ones who did that were—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Hum... Hello? Mistress..."

The voice stayed silent for a moment, the sound of rustling papers creeping through the door.

"Vasilisa, yeah..." the person mumbled before continuing, "Mistress Vasilisa, are you awake? Sorry to bother you, but... could you open the door for me? The other servants didn't want to help me, so..."

"..."

"Mistress Vasilisa?"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

As he suspected, this person was a new employee—a young woman, judging by the voice.

And not the most motivated person in the world, visibly... well, audibly...

That being said, could he really expect anyone interacting with him to sound more motivated than that? For whatever reason, people seemed to really fear that Muddy Tongue thing, even though, so far, the only person suffering from that "curse" was him.

Well, regardless, it was surprising she even dared to knock in the first place.

"... Not there it seems."

After knocking on the door for a long time, the woman finally gave up and walked away. That being said, she stayed there so long that Noah could only sigh in relief when she left.

"(What was that?)" he wondered, confused.

That was one persistent person.

Maybe she had been pranked by the other servants? He could hardly see why she would knock at a silent door otherwise.

"(The poor girl...)"

Well, not that he could help her. She would probably run away in disgust if he tried to explain.

*creaks open*

"..."

The good news was that his door wasn't actually locked and that there was no one in the corridor just like before.

"(Well, operation leftovers... started?)"

Apparently, his life in this new world wasn't about to change just yet...

———

... Or so he thought.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Mistress, huh..."

*Sounds of rustling papers.*

"Vasilisa... Ah yes, Mistress Vasilisa. Mistress Vasilisa? Are you in there?"

"..."

This was the third day. The third day this girl knocked on his door, asking him if he was in there.

And she didn't even do it just once a day. Every two hours, she would come and knock for about an hour before disappearing to who knows where.

And this was the third day.

THE. THIRD. DAY.

At that point, he was starting to get a bit afraid of her. Was ignoring her truly the best solution? Why was she asking him questions like how he was doing or if he had eaten? Was she unaware of his curse or just messing with him? Besides, why would she care?

And just like that, the situation dragged on for another day.

On the fourth morning, however, Noah had decided. If she was going to harass him, he might as well "reward" her with his cursed speech. She had worked hard for it, after all—already two days without getting a wink of sleep. Talk about determination.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

As usual, the three knocks shook the door with their monotonous rhythm. Next came the tired voice of the woman outside...

"Mistress..."

The usual rustling papers.

"Ah, yes. Mistress Vasilisa. Hm, Mistress Vasilisa, are you awake?"

And the usual first question.

From there, she would go on to ask a lot of unnecessary things about his health for about an hour before finally going away.

This time, however, it would be different. Noah left his bed and positioned himself just behind the door. He needed to ensure the woman would hear him perfectly.

"Mistress Vasilisa? Do you hear me?"

Finally, he replied, "Y-Yes. Co... er... You... c-ca... ca-can co... you can... huh... come... in."

Exaggerating his speech impediment a bit, Noah answered the woman behind the door. And unsurprisingly, she immediately went silent.

"(As expected. Now I am finally—)"

*Bang!*

"Argh!"

The door opened suddenly, slamming into Noah's face.

"So you were inside this room," said the woman as she walked into the space as if it belonged to her.

She was a tall woman with long pink hair and big round glasses. Her left eye was hidden behind her bangs, while her right one looked tired and utterly devoid of passion.

"Nobody told me which room was yours," she continued in her flat tone. "Can you imagine? Three days. I had to—"

Her eye finally rested on the young man crouching on the floor, holding his bloodied nose.

"... Apologies. Would you like some cakes and tea to help you bear the pain?"

If gazes could kill, that woman would have been ten times dead under the dark glare Noah threw at her that day. Then again, the calm and utter lack of interest in her eye was probably strong enough to serve as the most powerful shield in the world.

Thus was the meeting of Noah and the one he would later refer to as his instructor.