CHAPTER 180: FACELESS IMPOSTER VS ALICE [4]

Alice tried to kill me, but unfortunately for her, I wasn’t such an easy opponent to deal with.

She tried to slip her rapier past my guard, angling for my ribs in a lightning-fast thrust.

CLANG!

I twisted my wrist, steel meeting steel, sparks bursting between us as our blades scraped. The impact shivered through my arm, but I held firm, forcing her blade aside with a sharp flick of the dagger.

Her eyes narrowed. She had expected that thrust to land.

"You’re slower than I thought," I taunted, lips curling into Julies’s familiar smirk.

Alice answered with silence—and another attack.

WHOOSH—!

Her rapier blurred, stabbing high, then low, then whipping into a sudden diagonal slash. Her movements were merciless, flowing one into the next with no room to breathe.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

My dagger caught every strike, the edges shrieking against one another, the noise bouncing off the narrow stone walls like thunder. Sparks flared so close to my face that I could smell the faint sting of burning metal.

"Not bad," I murmured under my breath, though sweat slid from my brow. "But not good enough."

I stepped in close, boots sliding over the dusty floor, and turned her blade with a sharp parry—forcing the rapier wide just for a heartbeat.

Alice’s breath caught, her eyes widening as she realized she had overextended.

A perfect opening.

I raised my dagger, the [Fang of Hatsan] gleaming in the dim light, ready to slash—

But at the very last moment, I stopped.

The blade hovered inches from her throat, close enough for her to feel the edge of death.

"See?" I said softly, almost mockingly, my voice dripping with Julies’s arrogance. "Killing me won’t be so easy."

Alice’s jaw clenched, fury simmering in her crimson eyes.

And then she lunged again.

For the next minute, steel met steel in a flurry of sparks and ringing blows. She pressed hard, never yielding, her movements sharp and precise—until, at last, she pulled back. Her blade lowered, not in defeat but in decision.

"A proposal?" she said.

I raised an eyebrow, curious despite myself. "Oh?"

"Give up the stolen goods and retreat. I won’t chase you." Her voice was steady, resolute. "But you will come—secretly—to the Draken Ducal House."

Her eyes burned with conviction.

"I won’t question your past crime of stealing the Count’s relic. I’ll even see to it that your identity is cleansed."

For a thief who had turned the nobility’s playground upside down, it was absurdly generous. Too generous.

"...And why?" I asked, tilting my head. "Is this sweet talk just to secure your relics? Or do you plan to keep me as your watchdog against rival nobles?"

But the Alice I knew wasn’t that calculating.

"The North needs warriors with skills like yours," she said, her voice cutting through hesitation. "Stop stealing. Live with honor. I’ll give you that chance."

I laughed under my breath. "That’s... quite tempting."

Who else would risk her reputation to rehabilitate a thief, of all people? It was ludicrous. And yet, for a fleeting second, I felt the warmth behind her words.

Her lips parted, hope flickering in her eyes. "Then—"

"But I refuse."

The words fell like a blade between us. I cut her off before her hope could rise further.

Her eyes widened, her stance faltering just slightly.

It was, indeed, a ridiculous offer that only Alice could make. And I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t moved. But...

"Why should I?" I asked quietly.

I wasn’t mocking her now. I wasn’t even dismissing her idealism. Theft deserved condemnation, and morality deserved respect. I knew that.

And yet, if I—’Faceless Imposter’—were suddenly acknowledged, legitimized, set free from the shadows... my scope would grow immeasurably. The things I could do, the places I could reach, the secrets I could uncover.

But Alice didn’t understand. She couldn’t.

Because what loomed over her was not just her duty as a duchess, nor the strength of her ducal house.

It was the crown prince himself.

The empire’s noblest bloodline, cloaked in coercion and violence. And after that? Calamities beyond mortal comprehension—the Demon King of the North among them.

Against such tides, who could afford to be choosy about methods?

At least... Julies Evans, her loyal servant, had to remain untarnished. He had to embody the trust Alice placed in him.

That was why the ’Faceless Imposter’ had to stay what he was: a thief, a demon in the dark.

Alice hate demon to her core and despite that she made a proposal for me.

....And I know why she made such proposal that she would never make in her life.

It’s because ’Facless Imposter’ was just looting relics and hasn’t taken any life yet.

If I had taken any life, a human life, she won’t even consider her words and just outright would try to kill me.

....And it’s seems she’s going to do that now I have rejected her praposal.

Alice’s face hardened the instant the words left my lips. The faint ember of hope she had shown a heartbeat ago was snuffed out, replaced by a cold, merciless fury.

"I see."

Her rapier lifted again, steady in her grip, but her stance had shifted. This was no longer negotiation. This was judgment.

"You’ve made your choice," she said, her voice flat as steel. "Then don’t blame me for mine."

Her boots scraped against the stone floor as she lunged.

WHOOSH—!

Her rapier drove forward like a spear, the tip aimed directly for my throat.

CLANG!

The impact rattled my dagger, sparks bursting between us as the blades locked. She pressed harder, her strength far greater than her slender form suggested. The pressure forced me to slide back, my heels skidding across the dust-strewn floor until my back nearly struck the crate again.

Her crimson eyes bored into mine, unrelenting.

"You could have walked away," she hissed through clenched teeth. "But you chose the path of a criminal."

I twisted my wrist, slipping her blade off mine with a sharp parry, and ducked to the side. Her rapier whistled past my ear, grazing a few strands of hair.

"I told you already," I shot back, my smirk returning despite the sweat dripping down my face, "killing me won’t be easy."

She spun, her rapier carving another arc toward my ribs.

CLANG! CLANG!

Each strike hammered into my dagger, the vibrations numbing my arm. She wasn’t holding back anymore. Every thrust carried the intent to kill, her movements fueled by cold, disciplined fury.

And yet, I matched her—barely.

The Fang of Hatsan whispered again in my grip, its edge hungry, urging me to cut, to end this dance with a single lethal stroke. But I gritted my teeth and forced it down. Not yet.

Alice’s rapier blurred, faster than before, her precision terrifying. She was a noble trained from childhood in the sword, a woman who had crossed blades with demons and lived to tell of it.

And right now, all that training was bearing down on me.

CLANG! SPARK!

I shoved her blade aside and spun back, breathing hard. My lungs burned. My arm ached. And still—my grin didn’t fade.

Alice’s fury only grew at the sight.

"Mock me all you want," she said, her voice sharp as her blade. "It won’t save you."

And then she advanced again, her rapier a storm of silver light, her killing intent unmistakable.

This was no longer Alice the duchess, nor Alice the protector.

This was Alice the executioner.