What Did You Do?

Something shot toward him—a sword. It sliced through the air, reflecting the gray light of the sky.

Paul could only scream in his mind.

And then, in that very moment... his eyes couldn't catch the movement of the sword. But his body moved on its own.

His foot stepped back. His hands rose reflexively, as if his body remembered something his mind didn't understand.

"Clang!"

The sound of metal striking shattered the air.

Paul's eyes widened. Not because of the attack, but because of his own hands.

He had managed to block the strike.

The woman was equally surprised. Her eyes widened, then she leaped backward. Her hands trembled, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.

It didn't make sense. He was sure the scrawny man in front of him didn't even look like someone who could fight.

Paul lowered his gaze, staring at his raised hand. His heart raced wildly. He frowned.

"Why... did my body move on its own?" he muttered in his mind.

He had never even held a sword before. But just now... the movement had been so natural, almost like instinct.

He remembered waking up from the severe injuries that should have killed him. But not only had he survived, his body felt... strange. Something inside him had changed.

Even now, his body moved faster than his own thoughts.

The woman finally spoke, her tone flat but threatening.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Paul fell silent for a moment, staring at the woman as the question was asked. His gaze fixed on her face, particularly her beautiful eyes, so beautiful they made his focus waver. But from the woman's perspective, Paul's eyes looked sharp and focused. It made her cautious again. She raised her sword, pointing it at Paul's chest.

Paul flinched. He realized he had been staring at her for too long. Slowly, he lowered his sword to the ground.

"Clang."

Then, he raised both hands to ear level, signaling that he had no intention of fighting. Deep down, he knew: if it came to a swordfight, he would lose. What had just happened was merely a coincidence—an odd reflex he didn't even understand.

"I don't want to fight you," he said, offering an awkward smile.

It had been a long time since Paul had spoken to a woman. Since leaving school last year, he had always felt awkward, always nervous. He usually chose to stay silent. But for some reason, he didn't feel nervous this time. In fact, he was speaking calmly. Even confidently.

"My name is Paul... and I don't know why I'm here either."

The woman didn't respond immediately. Her gaze was sharp, as if she were reading every movement Paul made. She then looked at the sword Paul had dropped. As soon as she saw it, her eyes widened. She was shocked.

The woman remained silent, staring blankly at the sword.

After a few seconds, she turned her gaze back to Paul. This time, her eyes were sharper and colder.

"Where did you get this sword?" she asked. Her voice was low, but the tone was threatening.

Paul swallowed. His heart was pounding. Did this woman know the big man who owned that sword? Did she think I killed him?

"Answer me!" she suddenly shouted.

Paul remained calm on the outside, but inside, he was panicking. Should I lie? But why should I lie? But if I tell the truth, she might think I'm the one who killed him...

"I found it on the road," Paul answered firmly, with an unwavering gaze.

The woman paused for a moment, staring at the sword Paul had dropped. She looked shocked as she examined it. After a few seconds, her gaze turned back to Paul, this time sharper and more terrifying.

"You lying, sneaky bastard!" she shouted.

Without warning, she swung her sword at Paul's head—fast and brutal. Paul didn't expect her to treat him as an enemy right away. But before he could even panic, his body moved on its own once more.

Instinctively, Paul ducked. His movement was smooth, as if his body had grown accustomed to evading attacks like this. The sword flew overhead, slicing through the air.

'What the hell… How can I do this?'

The woman seemed just as surprised. But she didn't stop. Her attack shifted instantly—from a horizontal slash to a vertical swing aimed at Paul's head. Her eyes widened. He panicked, but strangely, his body remained calm.

Paul ducked lower, his hand touching the ground to steady himself. Then, with a clean and precise reflexive motion, he kicked at the woman's hand.

The woman quickly reacted, blocking Paul's attack with her elbow. The impact pushed her body back slightly, but she landed smoothly.

Paul stood frozen, gasping for breath.

'How can I do all this?'

The woman's eyes locked onto Paul, filled with fury. As if she had just been underestimated. Paul met her gaze. Their eyes locked.

From the woman's perspective, Paul's gaze seemed like a challenge.

Her teeth ground together. Then, she attacked again. This time, she moved swiftly, aiming a low thrust toward Paul's head.

Paul managed to dodge the attack by tilting his head to the side, but it was merely a feint she had set up. The woman smiled.

'Damn!' Paul thought.

His eyes were too slow to track the sword's change in direction at the last moment. The sword was no longer aimed at his head; instead, it turned into a vertical strike aimed directly at his left hand. But once again, his body moved faster than his mind. In that instant, he felt something within him—foreign, yet strangely familiar.

As the blade came close to slashing his hand,

"SKRRCH!"

Paul lifted his left hand, the one that was about to be struck, and—instinctively—blocked the vertical slash, then gripped it with a strong clasp.

Blood immediately flowed from his fingers, dripping onto the snow and staining it red. But the sword failed to sever his fingers. It was only a wound. His fingers remained intact.

The woman froze. Her eyes locked onto Paul, who was still crouched, with a gaze that... was different. Sharp and threatening.

Paul furrowed his brow, his eyes wide as he stared directly at her. She snorted and then yanked her sword back harshly.

Paul grimaced. Blood dripped from his hand, but his fingers were still intact. In fact... they felt stronger.

Suddenly, the woman moved again. Without warning, she raised her sword and tried to thrust it into Paul's head.

But this time, Paul's eyes caught her movement. He quickly raised both his arms to shield his head from the woman's thrust.

The sword blade sped toward him. The woman's gaze, which was once beautiful, now turned sharp, filled with murderous intent.

'She's really going to kill me.'

Just as the sword blade was about to touch the palm of his hand,

"Teila, enough."

The voice echoed, sharp and deep, cutting through the cold air in the middle of the battle.

The snow scattered as the woman abruptly halted her attack. The snow and cold wind brushed against her skin, and the sword stopped just a few centimeters from Paul's hand.

The woman turned her head. Her eyes changed again. This time, they became calmer—but still watchful.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her tone tinged with annoyance.

"Alright, alright, don't look at me like that. You're starting to look scary," the man said.

He seemed tall with white hair and striking blue eyes, which gave him a somewhat feminine appearance. His voice was strong and commanding. His smile... irritating.

"…Didn't he already put his sword down?" the man said to Teila, trying to sound calm, though a faint smile on his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Teila turned her head slowly.

Her gaze was cold, piercing, like a dagger that froze the air around her.

The man swallowed hard. His shoulders tensed, but he remained standing in place. His voice trembled as he forced himself to speak again.

"I-I... I know you can kill him. But... please, don't do it."

"Come on... he doesn't exactly look like a villain to me," the man said, glancing briefly at Paul. He frowned, thought for a moment, then added, "…Maybe."

'Maybe?'

Paul furrowed his brow.

'Does my face really look like a villain? Damn it.'

But after a few seconds, Paul fell silent. He pondered. He recalled his own face.

A shabby face, with dried blood at the side of his temple, eyes weary, and a vacant stare.

'Sigh... maybe he's got a point. Damn it.'

Teila let out a heavy sigh, reluctantly she sheathed her sword again. She gritted her teeth and walked away from Paul, leaving behind a sharp, annoyed glare.

The man—still with an awkward expression—chuckled softly and said,

"Thank you," before stepping closer to Paul. He extended his right hand with a smile on his face.

"Are you okay?"

Paul only stared at the hand for a moment before looking down. With a calm gaze, he placed his hand on the ground and stood up on his own, ignoring the man's offered help.

The man in white didn't seem offended. He only gave a slight smile.

Once Paul stood up, the man in white silently observed him. His gaze was sharp, yet not hostile, as if he were inspecting something.

Paul furrowed his brows.

'Why is he staring at me like that? His gaze feels strange... and that smile... so irritating.'

Paul met the man's gaze with eyes full of wariness.

The man in white was taken aback, then gave him a slight smile.

"Ah, sorry... If you felt uncomfortable with my prolonged gaze... If it bothered you, I apologize."

His tone was light, even sounding sincere. But that was exactly what made Paul feel a little uneasy. People like this—who were too calm, too smiley—were usually far more dangerous than those who openly showed anger.

Paul had seen this type before. Too many times. Until it made him sick. Behind that smile, there was usually an intention that was never truly honest.

The man in white then extended his right hand.

"My name is Julius. What's yours?"

Paul stared at the hand, suspicious.

'If I shake his hand, he won't suddenly pull me in, punch me, or kill me, right?'

Julius waited patiently, then spoke with a slightly sad tone,

"Is introducing yourself really that difficult for you?"

Paul sighed, then responded stiffly,

"Ah... sorry, I was just... lost in thought."

After thinking for a moment, Paul finally shook Julius's hand, though still with lingering suspicion.

"My name is Paul. Nice to meet you... I guess."

"Paul, huh?" Julius closed his eyes and nodded slowly, as if that name meant something to him.

Paul stared at him with suspicion and confusion.

'Is there something wrong with my name that made him react like that?'

Julius continued nodding slowly, as if agreeing with something in his mind. After a few seconds, he stopped and reopened his eyes.

"Alright, Paul... actually, I wanted to introduce myself in a nice way, and maybe we could even become close friends, but... that all depends on your answer."

He reached for the sword Paul had dropped earlier. As his hand gripped the sword's hilt, the atmosphere around them shifted.

'Damn, why is this happening so suddenly...'

Julius's smile vanished, followed by a cold glint in his eyes. His voice, once light and friendly, now turned threatening and heavy, like the breath of wind in the snowy midnight air.

He stood, gripping the sword's hilt, then stared at it intently.

Julius's gaze slowly shifted to Paul. His anger was clear—not through shouting, but from the sharp, icy look in his eyes, too calm and unsettling. His voice was flat, almost emotionless, yet each word carried pressure that froze Paul in place.

"Where did you get this sword... Paul?"