Home/The Ice Age Came? And I Just Got Married?!/ch 15

Chapter 15.

As I gave him a thumbs-up, Logan grabbed the door handle and lifted it open.

Logan and Marcus went in first, and I followed behind them.

Squeak.

Perhaps because my body kept moving, the baby bird in my pocket let out a weak, grumbling chirp.

Sorry, little one.

I patted my pocket once and surveyed the attic interior.

Logan, who had entered first, pressed his index finger to his lips and fixed his gaze forward.

The attic was a loft style—there was a railing, and below it, the entire first floor of the shop was visible.

Logan raised his wrist and adjusted his grip on the greatsword. I was about to tell him we should go out on the count of three—

"Time to stretch my legs a little."

Leaving only those words, he kicked the railing and leaped down.

I stood there, my hand reaching out in vain.

...Excuse me?

"Argh! Who's there!"

"What? Weren't you calling for the Duke of Wrath?"

"Arghhh!"

Below, men's screams and Logan's voice rang out.

That madman.

Logan did have the nickname "Duke of Wrath." Honestly, I hadn't fully grasped that side of him—but he certainly had a foul temper.

He was the type who offended everyone, high and low, with his lack of manners.

"Logan? Ah, that rude bastard? What? It's true he's rude. Don't tell him I said this—but he's still a Cheshwind."

"Our class's top student? So what if he's good at everything—his personality is terrible."

That had been the prevailing opinion at the academy too.

I was grateful that, despite being rivals, we'd never clashed much.

I'd heard he picked fights with Marcus over every little thing—so fiercely that the other students were left shaking their heads.

Now that I think about it, it was probably because Marcus showed interest in me.

Anyway, Marcus and I stayed on the loft above, aiming our guns downward—but we never had to fire.

Bang— Bang—

Even bullets flying at him were deflected by his greatsword. His combat prowess was absolutely overwhelming.

After a cacophony of screams, the area fell silent.

Marcus and I finally lowered our gun barrels and descended the stairs.

Below, most of the men lay bleeding and collapsed.

In the center of it all stood Logan.

Blood was still dripping from the tip of his blade, and another man's blood streaked across his cheek.

His breathing was utterly undisturbed—as if he hadn't just finished a brutal fight.

When Logan met my eyes, he wiped the blood from his greatsword and sheathed it.

Then, wordlessly, he turned my body halfway around.

"While I pass by."

"Huh?"

"Stay like this."

Leaving those words, Logan moved again.

Of course, I didn't listen—I turned my head to watch what he was doing.

A man, battered and bruised, was forced to his knees by Logan's grip.

I recognized him as Harry Baker—because I could sense the Goldstone presence from him.

Now I turned fully toward Logan.

"Logan, I think the man you're holding is the one. I can smell it."

"I figured as much. He has the dirtiest face."

Logan cuffed Harry Baker on the back of the head, then grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up.

"Don't move. From now on, this 'Duke of Wrath' you mentioned is going to be a little rude."

Logan leisurely searched Harry's body and found five Goldstones.

Even as his Goldstones were taken while he couldn't move a muscle, Harry's gaze never left Marcus—his eyes were murderous, as if he wanted to tear Marcus apart.

I'd known of Harry's grudge from the novel, so I'd expected it—but not to this degree.

The media had constantly blared that Marcus's money was dirty, so Harry seemed convinced that Marcus was a villain and that he himself had been unjustly exploited.

Unfortunately, that didn't justify bombing the Rutland Railway Station.

Too many innocent people had died in that attack.

"You bastard! Let go of me!"

Suddenly, Harry thrashed as if he might lunge at Marcus.

Of course, Logan didn't let that slide. A kick from his military boot sent Harry crashing to the floor with a short scream.

I didn't know how hard he'd been hit—it looked like a light tap, but Harry was coughing up blood.

Eventually, Logan grabbed a scrap of cloth from the floor, stuffed it into Harry's mouth, and looked at me.

"What should we do with this?"

He pointed to the Goldstones he'd taken from Harry's pocket.

"Logan, you hold onto those for now. I'll absorb the rest of the Goldstones."

"The rest?"

Marcus was the one who voiced the question.

But instead of answering, I looked around—searching for the traces of Goldstones.

The weapons shop was in shambles.

Walking between the fallen, bleeding men, I picked up weapons one by one.

Two rifles and a shield.

I placed them on the table and touched them.

A faint glow seeped from my hand, then burst into golden radiance.

The light was absorbed entirely into my palm. And I felt it—the power of the Goldstones that had been absorbed into the two rifles and the shield, now reabsorbed into my body.

Harry Baker, left sprawled on the floor, stared at me with wide eyes, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed.

"Now that he's seen this, we can't leave him alive."

At Logan's chilling words, Harry's face went white. Trembling with fear, he struggled desperately.

And then—

"Watch out, Eve!"

At Marcus's shout, something stopped right before my eyes.

A sharp dagger.

When I came to my senses, Logan was gripping the blade in front of me.

I saw the dagger halted just before my right eye and gasped.

Huff.

By the time I exhaled the breath I'd held, Harry Baker had already lost his life to Logan's greatsword.

Blood pooled on the floor.

Clutching my pounding heart, I grabbed Logan's hand.

He had caught the dagger with his bare hand—leaving a deep wound in his palm.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Logan nodded calmly.

His answer—as if he were so used to this that it meant nothing—made my heart ache a little.

Squeak—

Just then, the baby bird in my pocket chirped. The bird with healing power.

Could it have reacted to the smell of blood?

I quickly took the bird out.

Wrapped in the handkerchief, it looked up at me with a bewildered expression.

"You can heal wounds, right?"

At my question, the bird tilted its head.

I showed it Logan's wounded hand. It fluttered in surprise.

So startled, it flapped up and pecked me on the head with its beak.

Peck—! Peck—!

What the—this little thing?

"I said heal him! Heal!"

At my shout, the flapping bird finally looked at Logan's hand again.

Squeak?

Perching on Logan's palm, it began to flutter its tiny wings.

And remarkably, with each flutter, the bleeding from Logan's wound stopped.

So this baby bird really did have healing abilities.

What was its name again?

Chippy had come to mind immediately, but I couldn't recall this bird's name.

I think it didn't have a name, so the protagonist gave it one...

After a moment's thought, I decided to name it.

"Pipi."

The baby bird turned its head. Then it fluttered its wings and circled around me—it seemed a little excited.

"Your name is Pipi from now on."

I named it Pipi because its cheeping was cute—and the baby bird seemed to like it.

"This has never happened before."

Logan spoke up.

He stared quietly at his healed hand, then looked back and forth between me and the baby bird, Pipi.

"Things really are different this time."

Meanwhile, Marcus asked me,

"Junior, were you a zookeeper?"

That was such a prejudice-free question.

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