Mok Kyung-woon's neck snapped as he died.
The assailant was dazed for a very brief moment.
But it didn't last long.
"You little bastard!"
Smack!
Furious to the point of boiling over, the assailant lunged at the boy, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him against the wall.
Thud!
It was absurd.
Even if Mok Kyung-woon was only a third-rate martial artist, he was still trained in martial arts.
The difference between someone who had trained and a mere civilian—especially a death row inmate—was significant.
But how could Mok Kyung-woon's neck be snapped in an instant, even in a surprise attack?
As he stood bewildered, the boy, expressionless, spoke.
"...Even if you used sleeping incense, shouldn't you be keeping things quiet?"
"What? What the hell are you saying right now!?"
The assailant frowned.
He had the boy by the throat, but the boy showed no signs of distress.
He was even speaking clearly.
'Now that I think about it, why is this kid's neck...'
His neck muscles were unusually well-developed, like someone who had trained his external body.
With this level of muscle, you'd need proper inner strength to snap it.
'Could he have trained in external martial arts? No... If he had, there should be at least a trace of inner power.'
Even external martial arts require some internal energy as a foundation.
But this kid had none.
He clearly wasn't just some ordinary guy.
The assailant's mind was getting tangled, but this wasn't the time for such thoughts.
"You crazy bastard. The young master gave you a chance, and you... You dared to betray someone who gave a chance to a mere death row inmate—!"
"Did I perhaps misunderstand the purpose of a double?"
"What?"
"The whole point of a double is to take on risk in place of the real person, right? Sure, it's a chance for me to extend my life by three days, but if you're going to go as far as breaking a death row convict out of prison to use as a decoy, doesn't that also imply you're ready to discard him at any moment?"
"..."
The boy spoke calmly and evenly.
The assailant was momentarily at a loss for words.
This kid was smarter than expected.
A normal civilian—or your average death row inmate—would be too preoccupied just trying to survive this moment.
'Actually, how could someone even pull this off?'
Not only had the boy grasped the situation in an instant, he was taking a gamble.
Even though he might be killed at any moment.
'What kind of kid is this...'
Still stunned, the boy spoke again.
"May I ask you one question?"
"This bastard still doesn't understand his situation..."
"You said you were a bodyguard, but for someone whose master just died, you seem awfully calm."
"You son of a..."
"If you still have this much composure when you're supposed to want to kill someone, then maybe... you didn't really care much for your master, did you?"
"Ha!"
The boy's words left the assailant dumbfounded.
He was disturbingly accurate about his inner feelings.
As the boy had pointed out, the assailant didn't feel much affection for the arrogant young master.
He was just angry and confused by this sudden turn of events.
Still, that didn't mean he was about to kill this kid and risk trying to escape from a government prison right now.
'This is ridiculous.'
Being pushed around by some death row brat.
The logical course now would be to kill the boy—especially with things having gotten this messy.
But if the young master was already dead, and he lost this kid too, the Yeonmok Sword House would hold him responsible—with his life.
'Damn it. Everything's gone to hell.'
His whole plan to make the third young master the head of the clan and retire peacefully as the chief of the Yeonmok Sword House was going up in smoke.
All because of this damn convict kid—his entire investment was about to collapse.
As he sank into frustration, the boy spoke.
"If you don't feel any particular loyalty, how about switching carriages?"
"Switch carriages?"
"Wouldn't it be easier to just think of the one lying on the ground as a criminal who was to be executed the day after tomorrow?"
The boy spoke casually.
The assailant looked at him, both stunned and oddly unnerved.
This damn convict was basically saying he was going to become Mok Kyung-woon now.
Clench!
The assailant tightened his grip on the boy's neck.
"Ghk..."
Finally, a pained groan escaped the boy's lips.
Staring him down, the assailant spoke.
"You damn convict... Did you kill the young master for this opportunity?"
To that, the boy let out a dry laugh and replied,
"Is there... another reason?"
'!?'
At the boy's words, the assailant swallowed hard.
What kind of creature is this guy?
His entire way of thinking seemed fundamentally different from that of normal people.
His cunning was not ordinary.
No—perhaps that very quality was why he ended up here as a death row inmate in the first place.
'This kid is dangerous.'
Regardless of whether the Yeonmok Sword House held him accountable or not, it might be better to kill him right now.
His instincts were screaming at him.
That no good could come from getting involved with this boy—regardless of his martial ability or age.
Clench!
"Guh!"
He tightened his grip.
With inner strength applied, it would be hard for anyone to withstand.
"Don't make me laugh. It'd be better for you to just die here."
Yes—kill him.
Even if it meant starting over from scratch.
Just then, the boy suddenly grabbed his wrist.
Snap!
"No use. Even if you managed to kill the young master by luck, I'm not the same."
The assailant tried to brush him off with his other hand, charged with inner energy—
Smack!
'What... this kid?'
He resisted.
It felt like hitting the trunk of an ancient tree.
There was resistance in the boy's wrist—his muscles were extremely dense.
Dense enough to withstand a blow imbued with inner power.
In a flash, the assailant tore the boy's sleeve at the wrist with quick fingers.
'!?'
His eyes widened.
The densely packed muscles were clearly visible.
They looked as though he had trained in external martial arts for over a decade.
He almost let out a gasp of awe.
The mystery was solved.
'...It's no wonder the young master got taken down.'
It wasn't just luck from a surprise attack.
Looking at the density of the boy's muscles, it would take serious internal strength to even leave a mark.
His body alone was already beyond the level a third-rate martial artist could handle.
If this kid had actually mastered martial arts properly...
He might have become a formidable expert.
But to cultivate internal energy properly, one had to start by age five to ten at the latest.
If delayed, impurities would build up in the meridians, making energy circulation slow and difficult.
Crack!
Just then, pain shot through the wrist gripping the boy's neck.
The boy was trying to forcefully pry his hand off.
'What kind of strength is this!?'
He was using seventh-star level inner strength, yet the boy was trying to break his grip with pure power.
Calling this "brute strength" would be an understatement.
If he let his guard down, the grip would actually break free.
'This won't do.'
With that, the assailant switched techniques to Geumnasu.
He released the boy's neck and instead grabbed his wrist, twisting the joint behind the boy's back.
'Huh?'
It happened in a flash—the boy couldn't react in time, and his wrist was bent back helplessly.
'How did he do that?'
Was this martial arts too?
If so, it was incredibly precise.
He used the boy's own strength to twist his wrist.
But thanks to it, the grip on his neck was released. He could breathe more easily now—and speak.
Shing!
He saw the assailant draw something from his waist.
A dagger.
He was clearly intending to stab him.
At that, the boy spoke.
"Is there really any need to kill me?"
"What?"
"If I don't get the antidote, I'll die anyway. So wouldn't I have no choice but to follow your orders?"
At those words, the assailant paused—just before he could stab.
The situation was so absurd that he had forgotten for a moment—the boy had taken the poison pill he himself had brought.
But remembering that only made it more baffling.
"Ha!"
This guy actually pulled such a stunt after taking poison?
He couldn't understand why someone who couldn't survive without the antidote would do something so reckless.
'Is it because he knows there's no replacement for him if the young master dies?'
His cunning had gone beyond the norm.
Just then, the boy spoke.
"I have no interest in Yeonmok Sword House or being the Third Young Master."
"No interest? Then what the hell was all this about..."
"I just have a reason to live a little longer."
"Live longer?"
What was he talking about?
The boy then said in a voice thick with implication,
"You have the antidote, so you can control me like a puppet if you want."
The assailant flinched at those words.
Until now, he had only thought his retirement plan was ruined.
He simply wanted a peaceful life—unlike in the past.
He didn't want to waste time traveling somewhere again to start over—it was exhausting.
How much time had he spent researching and preparing to find the most ideal place?
'To control him as I wish…'
He suddenly found himself considering it.
It was a tempting offer—but he wasn't a fool.
Even with the short time they'd interacted, he could already tell this boy was incredibly dangerous.
Too clever to be easily controlled.
However, for someone so obsessed with survival, the poison alone would be enough to keep him obedient for the time being.
'…Should I use this as a chance to switch sides?'
The only reason he had been trying to find a double in the first place was to save the young master's life.
But the young master was already dead.
In that case, using this boy to switch allegiances might actually be a better path.
If he became powerful and this boy gained influence, he'd likely just become a constant headache.
'Yeah. Use him, then discard him.'
After a brief moment of consideration, the assailant made up his mind.
He would use the boy—just until he found the right opportunity to switch allegiances.
The assailant gave a warning.
"Show even the slightest sign of funny business and you die. Disobey me, and you die."
"Understood," the boy replied without a hint of hesitation.
"If you don't take the antidote within twelve hours, the poison will spread to your organs. Keep that in mind."
Snap!
The assailant released the arm he had twisted.
As the boy stood up, the assailant spoke again.
"From this moment on, you are… Mok Kyung-un."
"Understood. Should I refer to you as Escort Gam?"
"Yes."
"May I speak informally in front of others?"
"…Sure."
He didn't want to be spoken down to by the boy, but it didn't hurt to clarify the roles.
At that moment, the boy—no, Mok Kyung-un—approached the real, now-dead "Mok Kyung-un" lying on the ground.
Then he started undressing the corpse.
'Hmph.'
Escort Gam watched with displeasure.
No one had told him to do it, but the boy was already switching outfits with the real one. That kind of initiative was almost too cunning.
Only the dead "Mok Kyung-un" seemed pitiful now.
Rustle, rustle.
Mok Kyung-un removed the ceremonial top.
'…This kid.'
Underneath, his upper body was packed with dense, well-developed muscle.
Even though his chest and abdomen were wrapped in bandages stained red, his muscular definition was still clearly visible. That alone spoke volumes.
'And he claims he hasn't trained in external martial arts?'
He had been surprised before, but now it was even more shocking.
As Escort Gam continued staring intently at the boy's torso, his gaze narrowed.
'But those bandages look like they were from a serious injury—so why does he seem totally fine?'
That was the mystery.
If it had been an old wound, fine—but this one looked fresh.
And yet, Mok Kyung-un's complexion and movement didn't seem affected at all.
'What the hell is this guy?'
Now he was curious—what had this boy really done to end up as a death row inmate?
He figured he needed to meet with one of his contacts in the magistrate's office again.
Just then, Mok Kyung-un, now dressed in the real Mok Kyung-un's clothes, turned to him.
"May I borrow your dagger?"
"The dagger…? What for?"
Mok Kyung-un pointed to the real young master's head and replied casually,
"The young master's body is slimmer than mine. I think I'll have to take just the head and leave the rest."
"..."
It was a logical statement—but this boy still gave him a deeply uneasy feeling.
Switching sides as soon as possible really did seem like the smartest move.