“What exactly is this commission?” Leona asked curiously, walking backward.

In the end, the young princess had followed Rhode anyway—no amount of persuasion would stop her.

It reminded him of when Xiao Si tried to talk him out of a job; Rhode hadn’t listened then either.

“To sneak into a monster’s nest and steal an egg,” Rhode replied dismissively.

Leona shot him a suspicious glance. “You’re not lying to me again, are you?”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’ve done it before.” Given Rhode’s track record, Leona stayed cautious.

To prove his honesty, Rhode pulled out the commission scroll. “There. Now that you know, please leave.”

He pinched his adventurer’s badge and showed it to her.

“See? I even registered as an adventurer for this.”

Though a Rank D badge only qualified him for uncertified tasks, it was still proof.

Precisely because the commission was so low-level, Rhode—a Rank D—could accept it.

Commissions had deadlines; fail within days, and it’d be marked overdue.

If he didn’t reapply in time, someone else could snatch it.

“Huh. You’re actually serious,” Leona said, glancing at him with mild surprise.

“I’m always serious.”

“Then why take it? The reward’s practically nothing. What’s the point?” Leona noticed the odd detail.

Rhode lied through his teeth without blinking: “Everyone has a duty to support monster researchers.”

“Go challenge Shilo already. My little brother’s gotten way stronger these past few years.” He tried shooing her off.

But Leona stayed put, lingering near him.

“Your Highness… *adorable* Princess Leona… please, just go.”

“This job forbids harming monsters. I have to sneak in alone—you can’t tag along.”

*Just leave already,* Rhode thought desperately.

“Hahahaha! Kid, this princess is seriously self-centered,” the Black Sword chimed in—utterly untimely.

“Yep. Most princesses aren’t like this. The gentle, graceful ones? Rare exceptions.” The old man sounded utterly convinced.

Rhode’s headache spiked. The Black Sword was pouring oil on the fire. He almost instinctively facepalmed.

Seeing him suddenly press a hand to his forehead, Leona frowned. “Dizzy?”

“No. Mentally exhausted,” he grumbled.

“What’ll it take for you to leave?”

With Leona planted right there, he couldn’t possibly sneak into the Swiftbird’s nest.

They were already close. Any nearer, and even whispering might spook the birds.

This spot was ideal—far enough that raised voices wouldn’t carry.

“Hmm…” Leona pondered seriously.

This trip to Clinton was her own choice. After unpleasant events in the Imperial Capital, she’d come to clear her head—with the Emperor’s blessing.

Only as his youngest daughter was she allowed such freedom. Her older siblings faced strict upbringing.

Lately, royal tensions had simmered—the Emperor even hinted the successor might not be royal blood. Resentment brewed.

But to Leona? None of it mattered.

“Duel me.”

A mental question mark popped over Rhode’s head. “Huh?”

“Go find Shilo.”

“No. You’ll do.” *He seems easy to handle,* she thought.

“Win or lose, you leave after, right?” Rhode was already planning to throw the fight.

“Yes. But so you don’t hold back…” Leona saw right through his act. “If you win, I’ll answer a question.”

Rhode tapped his forehead, weighing options.

“It’s unbecoming for a berserker to refuse a duel,” the Black Sword teased inside his mind.

“Old man, I’m an *assassin*.” Even if the Mind Manifest Realm leaned berserker, Rhode stood firm.

“What are you muttering?” Leona asked.

“Just talking to myself. Don’t mind it,” he said lightly.

“Fine. If I win…” Rhode stroked his chin. “Do you know about the clerics who came to Clinton?”

“I know of them.”

“Somewhat.”

“You could say that.”

“Then if I win, you tell me what they’re really here for.”

“Mm. Simple enough.” Truth was, she’d have answered anyway—but since he proposed it, she played along.

Agreement reached, Leona smoothly drew her sword, angling the blade toward him.

Rhode shrugged at her sudden sharp focus. *She gets serious in battle. Wonder what she can do.*

A wry smile touched his lips as he drew the jet-black dagger from his lower back—now named the Black Key.

He kept his right hand behind his back, left hand holding the dagger, its cold tip perfectly parallel to the ground.

Not that he was left-handed.

The Black Sword had advised: for this style, left hand was safer unless fully mastered.

Rhode loved it—it was designed for short swords.

And a short sword? Practically a dagger. Perfect.

“So you’re left-handed?” Leona assumed.

Given how little she knew him, it was natural.

“I’m not,” Rhode sighed. *Gotta master this style faster.*

Her swordmaster had taught her extensively, yet she didn’t recognize his stance. “What stance is that?”

“The Garlu Guardian Sword,” Rhode answered after a pause.