After finishing the letter, Seo-jun summoned his personal attendant and ordered her to have it delivered to the city the next morning. The maid—someone Adrian Hanwick rarely called to his chambers these days—looked visibly dejected, her gaze fixed on Seo-jun with an expression difficult to decipher.
"What is it… it's none of my business if you feel neglected,"
Seo-jun muttered coldly, meeting her stare.
"Besides, I'm not your original master."
Once the maid left, Seo-jun returned to his desk and began sketching designs for a new product—bath soap.
Something that had to be prepared before the greatest epidemic recorded in that book came to pass.
Yet he knew all too well that producing soap in this era was no simple matter. The cost of materials, purification processes, and technological limitations weighed on him heavily, pressing him to the brink of giving up.
Several days later, while walking through the city center, Seo-jun was about to enter a tavern when a woman suddenly stopped him. Her face was badly bruised, her eyes filled with terror—an expression too desperate to ignore.
His bodyguard, currently undercover, gave a brief warning.
Seo-jun brushed his hand aside and helped the woman to her feet.
"Get up," he said firmly.
"Explain what happened."
Breathing hard, the woman began to speak.
"I—I'm an herbalist, sir. I was trying to make an ointment for eye disease. Many children are suffering from severe irritation, but—"
She broke down in sobs.
"The priests accused me of fabricating it. They said I was a witch. That I was trying to ruin the eyesight of the nation's heirs so they would turn away from the sanctity of the Holy Spirit."
Seo-jun let out a quiet sigh.
Once again, kindness drags me into trouble with the Church.
He knew well enough that in this era, the Church's authority rivaled that of the empire itself.
But when he looked at the woman again, he saw something else—potential. An herbalist was a crucial piece in his plan to create affordable herbal soap to prevent the epidemic that would one day devastate the lower class.
With calm authority, Seo-jun pulled the woman behind him.
"I will take this woman," he said flatly.
"You may leave."
The two Holy Knights assigned to punish her exchanged glances, their faces clouded with confusion and fear.
"B-But, Young Master," one of them said,
"this woman has received a summons from the bishop. She is sentenced to be hanged tomorrow."
Seo-jun and his bodyguard shared a brief look.
Defying the Church meant defying God—at least according to their doctrine.
"Tell Alaric," Seo-jun said at last,
"that I require this woman for the development of the Sebastian Hanwick family's business."
He paused, then continued in a colder tone.
"If that isn't enough, I will pay her ransom."
The two knights conferred briefly, then nodded in unison.
"Very well, Young Master. We will deliver your message to His Eminence Prior Alaric."
They departed.
The woman collapsed into sobs of relief. Seo-jun stood silently for a moment before signaling her to follow him into the nearest tavern.
Once seated, the tavern owner greeted them loudly. The young man looked barely more than a boy—about the same age as Adrian Hanwick's youngest brother.
"Hey—welcome back to the most popular tavern in the city center!"
Seo-jun merely nodded and ordered two mugs of ale, a glass of warm milk, and wheat bread for the woman with him.
The tavern owner narrowed his eyes.
"Hm… you're acting strange today, Young Master. Too calm. And your taste in women seems a bit—"
Before he could finish, Seo-jun's bodyguard shoved him roughly.
"Watch your mouth, lowborn!" he snapped.
The tavern owner stepped back, then smiled faintly as he gestured toward several burly men behind him.
"Easy there, pal," he replied casually.
"No need for violence in the wrong place."
Seo-jun grabbed his bodyguard's arm and gave a short command.
"Sit."
His voice was low—yet absolute.
While waiting for their order to arrive, the woman kept thanking him over and over—to the point that Seo-jun was growing tired of hearing it.
"Yes, yes. That's enough," he said with a sigh.
"Say something else. If you don't mind… what's your name?"
The woman answered nervously.
"Sora."
"No family name?" Seo-jun raised an eyebrow.
"A traveler?"
Sora hesitated. After a few seconds, she gave a small nod.
From the very beginning, Seo-jun's bodyguard had not taken his eyes off her. The suspicious stare made Sora visibly uneasy—and Seo-jun himself was starting to feel irritated by his subordinate's excessive vigilance.
Not long after, their order arrived.
Sora immediately devoured the food as if she hadn't eaten in days—which, in truth, she hadn't. For several days now, she had been constantly on the move, hiding from the Holy Knights who relentlessly hunted her.
Once she finished eating, Seo-jun returned to the subject of her invention.
An ointment specifically for treating eye irritation.
To Seo-jun—someone from a modern world—it sounded simple. But Sora's explanation left him silent.
"I've tested this ointment myself," Sora said firmly.
"I used my own body as the test subject. It causes no stinging—only a cooling sensation around the eyes."
Her explanation was systematic. Clear. Almost scientific.
Seo-jun listened intently.
Someone like her should have been supported by the Empire,
he thought.
But history was always the same—women who were too capable were pushed aside. Or erased entirely, under fabricated accusations.
"All right," Seo-jun said at last.
"I like your ointment. I'll develop it with you. In fact, I'll provide full sponsorship."
Sora's eyes lit up. She stood up at once.
"B-But…?"
"There's one condition."
Sora held her breath.
"You must participate in the business venture I'm planning," Seo-jun continued calmly.
"I want to create herbal soap. Soap that's affordable—so people from the lower class can live more hygienically."
Sora froze.
"Since when do nobles care about the lower class?"
Her voice was flat, almost disbelieving.
Even Seo-jun's bodyguard looked stunned. His master's behavior completely contradicted the image of a selfish aristocrat he had always known.
"Why not?" Seo-jun replied casually, yet firmly.
"Nobles live off the people's taxes, don't we? If an epidemic spreads among the lower class, it will inevitably affect our income."
Sora nodded slowly.
"That… makes sense. Still, you're far too kind, sir. You're nothing like what people say."
Seo-jun took a sip of his beer.
"They say you're a pure-blooded noble—living in endless luxury, indulgent, reckless, and full of vices," Sora continued.
"But in reality… you're different."
His bodyguard chimed in without thinking.
"That's true, sir. Normally, you wouldn't step into a place like this without causing a scene. But today… you're so calm. As if—"
He hesitated.
"—as if possessed by a different spirit."
Puh—!
Seo-jun choked.
"Hahaha… nothing like that," he said quickly.
"People change when their souls mature. Not because they're possessed or anything."
Both of them nodded, though neither looked fully convinced.
After settling the bill, they left the tavern.
They had barely taken a few steps when an old woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere, blocking their path.
"Complete your task!" she shouted loudly.
"And I'll return you to where you belong!"
Without waiting for a reaction, the old woman staggered away, disappearing into a narrow alley.
Seo-jun, his bodyguard, and Sora exchanged looks—then followed.
But the alley was a dead end.
And the old woman… was gone.
No other paths. No doors. No hidden gaps.
A chill ran through Seo-jun's body.
"What the hell was that…" he muttered softly.
"Don't tell me that was a demon. Or—"
He swallowed.
"—the real witch who dragged me into this world?"