Never Die Villain

That afternoon, the journey resumed.

Having exchanged their horses in Volnograd, there was no longer any need to stop as frequently as before. The new team had been bred in Severye, making them far better suited for the frozen roads ahead than the horses that had brought them from the capital.

Naturally, the difference was something most people outside the North rarely thought about.

Horses raised in the central provinces were accustomed to milder weather and firmer roads.

They could tolerate the northern climate for a while, but the freezing air, deep snow, and uneven terrain wore them down surprisingly quickly.

The horses of Severye, however, had been bred for generations to endure exactly those conditions.

Their thicker coats, broader hooves, and remarkable stamina allowed them to travel through snow with little difficulty. Ironically, those same horses often fared just as poorly in the capital, where the warmer climate exhausted them long before their southern counterparts would have tired.

That was why every experienced caravan traveling north made a point of changing horses in Volnograd.

Beyond the margraviate, the settlements grew farther apart, the roads became increasingly unforgiving, and relay stations were no longer separated by only a few hours of travel.

From that point onward, a convoy had to rely on preparation rather than convenience, because a simple oversight could leave an entire party stranded in the middle of Severye’s wilderness.

Inside the carriage, Sherry and Ilya sat across from one another. The scenery outside blurred as the convoy ventured farther north.

"Lord Ilya," Sherry said after a while, "if you’d like to smoke, you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t mind."

"Is that so?"

He reached into his coat and took out a silver cigarette case, turning it over in his hand before opening it.

"I do have a few scented cigarettes," he said. "They’re supposed to leave behind a sweeter aroma and less smoke. I tried them once, but I never really grew fond of the flavor."

He took one of the ordinary cigarettes instead.

"Tobacco just feels... right."

Sherry watched him with a curious expression.

"I’ve always wondered... what does it actually taste like?"

"Terrible."

"H-Huh?"

"The first one is awful. Bitter, dry, and enough to make most people cough." He slipped the cigarette between his lips before continuing. "After that, you eventually stop noticing the bitterness, and before long, you’re convincing yourself you actually enjoy it."

"That doesn’t sound very appealing..."

"It isn’t."

"Then... why keep smoking?"

Ilya rested his elbow against the carriage window.

"Habit."

"...."

"I picked it up because it helped me think," Ilya continued. "Somewhere along the way, it became difficult to imagine reading, studying, or even sitting idly without one. Eventually, it stopped being something I chose to do and simply became part of my routine."

He rolled the cigarette between his fingers before looking down at it.

"I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone."

"Hm?"

"Modern medicine has long since dealt with the damage tobacco used to cause. Lung disease, poisoned blood, all of those complications can be treated without much difficulty nowadays."

He shrugged.

"Unfortunately, no physician has managed to cure the addiction itself."

He let out a breath.

"And addictions are expensive."

"Expensive?"

"You keep buying something you don’t actually need, convincing yourself it’s only one more pack every time. By the time you realize how much you’ve spent over the years, you’ve already funded someone else’s retirement."

Sherry couldn’t help but laugh.

"I wasn’t expecting your biggest complaint to be the cost."

"The money isn’t the problem."

"Then what is?"

"The realization that I’m willingly paying to maintain a bad habit."

He casually spun the unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"And somehow... I still keep buying them."

"That really does sound like an addiction."

"It is."

With a snap of his fingers, the tip of the cigarette ignited. Since the carriage had been built to retain heat against the northern cold, opening the windows during the journey was out of the question, so Ilya reached instead for one of the scented cigarettes he had mentioned earlier.

Sherry noticed it immediately.

The smoke drifting through the carriage wasn’t as heavy as ordinary tobacco and instead smelled like fresh blueberries.

"I’ve been wondering about something, Lord Ilya."

"Hm?"

"Isn’t House Belozersky known for producing knights?" she asked. "Then... how is it that you’re so proficient with magic? Does that mean anyone could become a wizard if they simply decided to study it?"

Ilya thought about it for a moment before taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Not quite."

He slowly exhaled, the fragrant smoke dissolving into the air between them.

"It ultimately comes down to how mana naturally flows through a person’s body. Every child is born with a different magical disposition, which determines the path they are better suited for long before they ever pick up a sword or learn their first incantation."

Sherry listened attentively.

"For those inclined toward knighthood, mana tends to circulate freely throughout the body. Their circuits are naturally suited to reinforcing muscles, strengthening the body, and sustaining physical exertion over long periods."

He tapped a finger lightly against his chest.

"Wizards are the opposite. Their mana flows through narrower, well-defined pathways, making it easier to manipulate mana outside the body, construct spells, and eventually develop a Domain."

"And... what if someone isn’t born with either?"

"Then they simply aren’t. Some people are born with mana that never develops strongly enough for either discipline. They can still live perfectly ordinary lives, but no amount of training will turn them into exceptional knights or wizards."

Sherry nodded slowly.

"So... you were born with a wizard’s disposition?"

"...That’s the strange part."

Ilya looked at the cigarette between his fingers before smiling to himself.

"I wasn’t."

"...?"

"If I had been born with a wizard’s disposition, the family would have noticed long before I ever entered the academy. From the day I was born, my mana resembled that of a knight."

"Then... how did you become a wizard?"

"I don’t really know."

"So... you’re an exception?"

"I suppose."

He smiled wryly.

"If what happened to me were something people could reproduce, every noble house on the continent would be training both knights and wizards. The fact that no one does is probably enough of an answer."

"I’ve... never heard of anything like that."

"Neither have I."