Itsuki Hiroto crept along the silent corridors of the Imperial Palace's residential wing, guided only by moonlight spilling through tall windows. At his side, Sera carried a pouch of "security" potions—tranquilizers, blink‑dust, anti‑scrying salve—while Virelya fell in step behind, ever vigilant.
They paused before Hiroto's quarters: a modest room furnished with a low bed, a small writing desk, and the ever‑present crate he sometimes used as a hiding spot. Hiroto yawned, glancing at the clock: 2:37 AM.
"I'm… exhausted," he admitted, sliding off his boots. "I'll sleep here tonight."
Sera handed him a bolster of ironwood pillows. "Place these under your bedposts—they'll trigger a light ward if they shift."
Virelya secured a ward‑stone under the door. "And I'll patrol outside. No one enters."
Hiroto nodded gratefully and collapsed onto the mattress, pulling the covers to his chin. "Good night… and no assassination attempts, please."
They left, closing the door with a soft click. Hiroto drifted into dreamless slumber within seconds.
Location: Hiroto's Quarters (Shortly After Midnight)
Outside, the corridor was still—until a faint click echoed beneath the ward‑stone. Two masked figures, cloaked in black, crouched by the door, sliding a slender blade into the keyhole.
The first assassin whispered, "The captain sleeps deeply. The order was clear: end him quietly."
The second nodded, producing a vial of pale poison meant to induce a silent, final sleep. They pushed the door open with trained precision and slipped inside.
Location: Quarters Interior
The assassins moved like shadows. One crossed to the bedside, dagger poised. The other at the foot of the bed cracked open the poison. Hiroto's breathing remained steady, carpet fibers imprinting his cheek.
"Strike on three," the first hissed. "One… two…"
Before he could finish, Hiroto shifted in his sleep. His elbow pressed against a hidden rune on the mattress frame—an accidental imprint from the Trial's wards. A soft thrum vibrated through the floorboards.
Without warning, a translucent dome of silvery light blossomed around the bed. The dagger swung forward—and met nothing but airy resistance. The assassin's arm rattled, the blade clattering off the ward with a sharp ding.
The second assassin stumbled backward as the ward triggered a gentle repulsion pulse, sending him skidding into the far wall. Their surprise cut through the silence like a broken horn.
Hiroto, still asleep, rolled over—his unconscious movement directing another pulse of silver light. It washed through the room, buffeting the assassins like a sudden gust of wind. The first assassin was flung onto the writing desk, scattering quills and parchment. The second slammed against the door frame, clutching his head.
Both lay crumpled on the floor, stunned into silence. The ward glowed steady once more, then faded.
Hiroto shifted again, murmuring softly, and the dome collapsed. The room fell back into darkness—broken only by the assassins' ragged breaths.
Location: Quarters Floor (Moments Later)
The assassins blinked, groggy, faces streaked with sweat and blood. They exchanged stunned glances as Hiroto snored deeply, oblivious to the chaos.
The first assassin groaned and pushed himself to one knee. "He… he's invulnerable."
The second rasped, "His sleep… it defended him."
"Impossible," whispered the first. "We were trained for such kills."
Slowly, reverent awe replaced fear. The first reached out, fingertips brushing the ward‑scar on the doorframe—a faint rune burned into the wood. The second knelt beside Hiroto, pressing a hand to the sleeper's chest.
The heavy breathing was calm, regulated—like a monk in deep meditation. They felt it: a quiet heartbeat resonating through the floor, a pulse of latent power.
"He rests for the world's peace," the second murmured. "We would awaken him?"
The first shook his head. "No. Here, in his guard, we are safe. We serve him now."
They nodded—soldiers converted by the strength of his unconscious ward—and bowed low to the sleeping clerk they had come to kill.
Location: Imperial Guard Post (Pre‑Dawn)
Virelya's patrol brought her back to the ward‑stone at Hiroto's door. She tapped the stone—no response. She frowned and peered through the small viewing crystal she'd installed.
Inside, the ward glowed faintly. And beyond it, two dark shapes knelt before Hiroto's bed.
She kicked the door open, sword drawn. "Who's there? Identify yourselves!"
The assassins rose at once, hands raised in surrender. Their hoods fell back, revealing hardened faces—one elven, one human. Both bore the crest of the Black Fang Syndicate, hired assassins known for their ruthlessness.
Hiroto, shocked awake, bolted upright in bed. "What—what's happening?!"
Virelya lowered her sword as the assassins bowed again. "Captain, these two attempted your life. Yet."
They motioned toward Hiroto. The assassins spoke together, voices humble: "We swore to end you. But your ward… your sleep… we witnessed salvation. We cannot kill our savior."
Sera rushed in, eyes darting. "They… they converted? They're going to serve him?"
Hiroto blinked, chest heaving. He looked at the two former killers. "I… I'm a clerk, not a god."
They knelt again, offering a single black‑woven cloak each: "We humbly pledge our blades and loyalty to you, Silent Savior."
Virelya exhaled. "Only you could turn assassins into disciples while asleep." She sheathed her sword.
Location: Hiroto's Quarters (Dawn)
Morning light filtered in as the assassins scrubbed the floor, mopping away traces of spilled potion and ward‑dust. They worked silently, in sync with Hiroto's breathing—like dutiful monks tending an altar.
Hiroto sat on the edge of the bed, hair tousled, robe askew, two pledged killers cleaning his room. He watched, dumbfounded, then turned to Sera and Virelya.
Sera shrugged. "Healer turned killer‑slayer. Next you'll juggle world relief funds."
Virelya offered a curt nod. "He sleeps through danger and wins."
Hiroto pressed a hand to his forehead. "I… need noodles."
He rose and donned his cloak. The assassins bowed deeply, blocking his path respectfully.
"Thank you," Hiroto said, voice weary but genuine. "But… I just want breakfast."
The assassins exchanged glances, then stepped aside like honored guards. The first produced a bowl of rice porridge; the second offered a steaming cup of herbal tea.
"Forgive our intrusion, Silent Hand," they said in unison. "Our blades remain yours."
Hiroto managed a small, tired smile. "Just… guard my noodles."
Location: Palace Corridor (Later That Morning)
As Hiroto left his quarters flanked by Virelya, Sera, and two reformed assassins, palace staff paused respectfully. A hush rippled through passing guards: "There goes the Silent Savior, twice‑protected by slumber."
A child peered from behind a column, clutching a wooden sword. "Teach me how to sleep like that!"
Hiroto offered a weary wave. "Drink my tea—don't try breathing ward‑runes."
Virelya guided him down the corridor. "Sleep well tonight?"
Hiroto shook his head. "I think I'll stay awake."
Sera grinned. "No promises."
As they rounded the corner, the two assassins fell into step behind—now silent sentinels rather than threats. Hiroto sighed, stepping into the palace's busy halls.
Somehow, his unguarded sleep had saved him yet again—knocking out assassins, turning foes into followers, and reinforcing his legend as the world's most unwitting protector. But for Itsuki Hiroto, the most remarkable miracle remained the simple hope that someday he might sleep… uninterrupted.