I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 80

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 80. False Wind

Midsummer had arrived before anyone noticed.

As Krash opened his eyes to the sound of cicadas drifting through the carriage window, the rhythmic clatter of wheels echoed through the interior.

Without shifting his posture, Krash glanced sideways to find Bianca leaning her head against his shoulder, absorbed in a book.

Bianca must have felt his gaze; she turned toward him with a soft smile.

“You’re awake.”
“How long was I out?”
“About three hours.”

Krash covered his mouth as a yawn escaped him.

Watching Bianca absorbed in her book, he asked quietly.

“Doesn’t staying cooped up in a carriage every day bore you?”
“Not when you’re here.”

He couldn’t think of anything he’d done to keep her entertained.

As Krash stroked his chin thoughtfully, Bianca was watching him intently.

Her steady gaze prompted him to wonder, and she finally spoke.

“What must I do to stay by your side? For the long term, I mean.”
“You’re here now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but… beyond that.”

Krash fell silent.

At Maseong Palace, Bianca had been forced to remain separated from him for over a month.

He had lost consciousness immediately, so he hadn’t noticed at the time, but when he came to, Bianca was sleeping at his side, her fingers gripping his collar tightly.

The faint shadows beneath her eyes testified to the sleepless nights she had endured.

Bianca felt anxious whenever she was separated from him.

‘She essentially abandoned her family to come with me.’

Krash was her only anchor now.

A child who has been abandoned carries the fear of abandonment again.

Even though Krash would never abandon her, she could not help but feel otherwise.

And this recent ordeal had made her acutely aware of that truth.

If Krash had not returned from Maseong Palace…

That possibility had consumed her thoughts entirely.

“You’ll keep going to dangerous places, won’t you.”

Krash couldn’t deny it.

The world was on the brink of collapse—this was no time to hesitate about danger. He had to throw himself headlong into whatever lay ahead.

Otherwise, he could never stand on equal ground with genius.

“And I’ll just have to watch from the sidelines.”

Something unsettling flickered in Bianca’s eyes.

She held Krash’s gaze steadily, her lips working for a moment before she reached out and gently took his hand.

“I don’t want to just watch. If you’re going to fall, I’d rather fall beside you.”

With that, she laid bare what lay in her heart.

Krash opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened it again, then closed it.

Something stirred in him—a quiet resolve that Bianca would become strong enough to survive on her own.

He remembered all too well how those who couldn’t fend for themselves had died, one after another.

Fortunately, she had once walked the path of a Hundred Ghosts, so her talent was undoubtedly exceptional.

In Bianca’s case as a vessel of World Erosion, she’d essentially been drawing on future potential by force.

Which meant her true, inherent talent was more than sufficient.

So he did have it in mind to introduce her to a master through the Crimson Garden.

But that was different from her standing at his side.

Standing beside Krash meant entering the Starry Generation.

If he was being honest—

He hated it.

He didn’t want to drag Bianca into that cursed place, and it grated on him how those bastards would look at her.

‘Is this just my own selfishness?’

Was this the same possessive impulse that drove fathers to shelter their daughters like precious gems?

All that time spent with Bianca—perhaps he’d grown too protective, too wrapped up in keeping her safe.

‘That’s not the right path forward.’

For her sake, he needed to stop this.

She wouldn’t be a child forever.

Krash lifted his hand and stroked her hair once, gently.

Her small head swayed with the motion of his palm, this way and that.

“How could I fall short? And even if I did, that doesn’t mean you have to.”

Bianca pouted slightly as she looked up at him.

Seeing her like that, Krash felt a laugh escape him.

“I’ve been thinking about it personally. I also think you need to at least protect yourself.”
“I want to be by your side, Krash.”
“In six months, I have to go to Rahelrn Academy no matter what.”

Bianca fidgeted with her feet before looking up at Krash.

“…Do I have to go?”

Coming from Bianca, who rarely whined, the question hit rather hard.

Watching her grip his collar tightly, Krash withdrew his hand from her hair.

“I’m sorry. But this much I have to do.”

Rahelrn Academy was a path Krash had to walk.

Since this was something he couldn’t compromise on, when Krash spoke firmly, Bianca released his collar and leaned back against the chair.

“That doesn’t work.”

Krash paused.

That doesn’t work.

So that last move was something she’d deliberately attempted.

‘This girl’s getting clever.’

If he asked where she picked that up, she’d probably say she read it in a book.

“I understand. I don’t want to be a burden to the path you’re taking, Krash.”
“I’ve never thought of you as a burden.”
“Thank you.”

Every time Krash talked with Bianca these days, he felt like he was losing ground.

“I’m personally looking into something for you. Just wait.”
“All right.”

Bianca naturally leaned against his shoulder again and resumed reading her book.

Seeing that, Krash gave a wry smile and looked toward the window.

The silhouette of Cheong Song Manor was finally becoming visible beyond it.

‘Never thought I’d be back this soon.’

He hadn’t originally planned to return so quickly, but Balheim had summoned him.

The First Prince of Staron wanted to meet him.

‘The First Prince.’

Hilnaidir of Staron.

As if any king wouldn’t.

Staron was a different matter altogether.

The reason was simple: the Balheim family name carried such weight in Staron.

So much so that when people spoke of Staron, they mentioned Balheim before they even said the word “kingdom.”

For that reason, the royal family had maintained a neutral stance toward Balheim across generations—neither particularly warm nor deliberately distant.

From the crown’s perspective, Balheim was an entity that could never be cast aside.

Yet at the same time, they had to curb the concentration of Balheim’s power to some degree.

‘But the First Prince was a man who wanted to make Balheim his own trump card.’

He was quite an enterprising figure.

Why else would the royal family, which had always dodged marriage talks to prevent Balheim’s power from accumulating further, suddenly propose a betrothal with Charlotte—the generation’s greatest prodigy?

‘The First Prince is a man who desires not to fear Balheim’s growing strength, but to stand with Balheim behind him and watch Staron flourish.’

Such was his nature.

Clatter.

Just then, the carriage came to a halt.

The moment they arrived at Cheong Song Manor, Bianca closed her book without ceremony.

“They said the First Prince was coming, yes?”
“Right. I’ll get everything ready as soon as we step out.”

The First Prince, no less.

Krash decided to prepare in advance.

The moment Krash opened the carriage door and stepped out, he spotted a familiar figure.

“Chief Steward.”
“Bringing commotion with you, as always. The First Prince of Staron, no less.”

Having heard that Hilnaidir was coming, she’d made her way here.

Then again, one of the First Prince’s stature was certainly someone the chief steward should meet personally.

‘Mother would have wanted to come herself, knowing her temperament.’

It must have been Celine who’d tactfully held her back.

Bianca, who’d descended from the carriage, positioned herself beside Krash.

Seeing Bianca, Celine wore an exceedingly warm smile.

“Welcome. Miss Bianca Hadenhartz—I’m Celine Balheim, Chief Steward of Balheim. I’m Krash’s great-grandmother.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Bianca Hadenhartz.”

In response to Celine’s greeting, Bianca lifted her skirts and curtsied with careful precision.

Watching this, Celine’s expression softened into a kind smile, as if she’d just witnessed something endearing.

“Bianca, go inside first.”
“Yes.”

Bianca entered the room without complaint.

Celine, who had been watching her from behind, glanced at Krash and asked.

“The curse on Miss Bianca is gone, then.”

She’d noticed.

As if to prove she hadn’t survived Balheim for nothing, she read the curse as easily as one might read a child’s primer.

“That curse on Miss Bianca was surely one even renowned curse-breakers couldn’t dispel.”

With that, she turned back to Krash, a faint smile lingering at her lips.

“What do you make of it, Krash?”
“Well, I find it rather remarkable.”

Krash answered breezily, as if it were nothing.

The Chief Steward, observing him, let out a short sigh and asked nothing more.

“Very well. A latecomer like you deserves a secret or two to keep. Though I’d caution you not to place too much faith in curses—there’s always a price to be paid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was World Erosion, not a curse, but Krash said nothing more.

Instead, he prepared swiftly for the First Prince’s arrival.

The First Prince had expressed a desire to meet Krash in person.

So Krash washed his face thoroughly, changed into fresh clothes,

and even submitted to Celine’s inspection.

“How much do you know of the First Prince?”
“That he’s the First Prince of Staron, certainly. And that he’s a rather ambitious man.”
“Then you’ve grasped the essentials. But mark this well: the First Prince covets Balheim’s power.”

So Balheim had already discerned what Hilnaidir wanted.

“I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Ah, he’s arrived.”

At that moment, the sound of a carriage began to echo from outside.

When Krash glanced toward the window, he could see the First Prince approaching, with several knights positioned as an honor guard before him.

“I shall go to greet him.”
“You’re not going yourself, then?”

At Krash’s question, an air of arrogance settled over Celine’s features.

“Krash, we are Balheim.”

That arrogance was something only Balheim could afford.

“His Majesty himself hasn’t made the journey, and this is merely a prince—still just one. Should the master of this house go out personally to receive him?”

Krash came to understand, anew, what Balheim truly was.

And Krash himself found himself in agreement with her words.

The place that Hilnaidir and Krash were about to create was a venue for negotiation.

Balheim was the only family capable of matching wills with the House of Staron.

There was no reason anywhere to deliberately surrender that advantage.

“Then let’s go to meet him.”
“Yes, thank you for your consideration.”

In this respect alone, Krash thought, he still had far to go to match Celine’s skill.

He had always kept his distance from factional disputes.

Krash pulled back a chair in the carefully prepared room and sat.

Before his return, he had been the First Prince—concerned only with Balheim itself—and had never had occasion to meet this man.

Now, at barely fourteen years old, he had somehow caught the First Prince’s eye.

‘Let’s see.’

Time to put into practice some of those cunning tricks he’d picked up by watching from the sidelines.

＊ ＊ ＊

Following behind Celine as she guided him, Hilnaidir walked through the corridors of Cheong Song Manor.

The neat corridor, which the attendants had clearly cleaned with care, was part of Balheim—perhaps that was why.

There was something cool, almost austere, about the air.

‘Perhaps it’s only my preconception.’

After all, he was the one conjuring such an image of Balheim.

As he always reflected, Balheim was a curious place.

Most notably, the direct descendants of Balheim were born with an unnaturally, almost absurdly, formidable strength.

They all grew to become recognized powerhouses in the world.

Now, the Martial Emperor Balrok of Balheim sits among the Heavenly Four Strongest, and the Vice-Family Head of Balheim among the Worldly Top Ten.

Yet in the past, there were absurd eras when two of Balheim’s line held seats among the Heavenly Four Strongest, and three among the Worldly Top Ten.

Thus, Balheim had always been a house of careful concern.

A family that even the House of Staron could not act rashly toward.

“We have arrived, Hilnaidir of Staron.”

At that moment, Celine came to a complete stop before the door.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door, then pushed it open for him.

She stepped back, allowing Hilnaidir to enter at his ease.

“Thank you for the escort.”

Hilnaidir offered his brief thanks and stepped into the room.

Inside, a boy sat waiting in a chair.

Still not old enough to be called an adult, perhaps.

Though something youthful lingered in his features, he rose from his seat and bowed his head as Hilnaidir entered.

“A pleasure to meet you, Hilnaidir of Staron. I am Krash Balheim.”

Observing the boy who introduced himself as Krash, Hilnaidir’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

‘Somehow, he carries himself as if he were considerably older.’

Though Hilnaidir had heard Krash was fourteen, the boy’s accomplishments in a mere year were nothing short of dazzling.

Rumors still swirled about him, not yet reaching every corner of the world.

But in another year, his name would spread across the globe like wildfire.

And that meant Krash would shed the taint of being a half-blood entirely.

‘At least within Staron, that stigma has already fallen away from him.’

Among the common people, Krash’s name had not yet risen to prominence.

But the nobility of Staron—they had all grasped his resurgence.

News of Balheim was never a matter they could afford to overlook.

‘The Empire’s intelligence networks would have known long ago, and the major intelligence agencies of other kingdoms surely know by now as well.’

So Hilnaidir understood.

From every direction, people would soon be reaching out toward Krash, trying to draw him into their camp.

‘He was treated harshly for being a half-blood—touch that wound, and he’ll be easy to use.’

If they could recruit Krash before his head grew any larger and fold him into their own forces,

he might become a crucial piece in their campaign to infiltrate Balheim. Everyone thinking this way would be spreading the same calculation through their minds.

‘I wonder if he realizes any of this.’

Hilnaidir pulled out a chair and sat across from Krash.

“I’ve heard you’ve been quite busy with outside activities. I apologize for summoning you so abruptly—I simply had to see for myself the new flame of Balheim.”
“Not at all. The First Prince himself has journeyed here to meet with me—I wouldn’t think of declining.”

His words showed a careful sense of where he stood.

“So you defeated Nakcheon, the phantom of Maseong Palace?”
“Word travels fast. As expected of the royal family of Staron.”
“Ha—when one of our kingdom’s people accomplishes something, we can’t help but listen. And hearing of it, I felt nothing but pride. What Balheim achieves is what Staron achieves, after all. How could I feel anything but pride?”
“I’m grateful you’ve contributed so much to the kingdom.”
“Going forward, I’d like you to continue working for Staron.”

Hilnaidir deliberately emphasized Staron even more than Balheim.

Yet Krash accepted it without visible reaction.

‘Interesting. I expected that, being young, he’d instinctively prioritize Balheim over Staron and show some response.’

Krash gave no indication of being affected by Hilnaidir’s words.

‘It’s possible he doesn’t place much weight on Balheim itself—a consequence of his time as a half-blood.’

He might actually harbor resentment toward Balheim for treating him as illegitimate, nursing a hunger for vengeance.

If that were true, it would be Hilnaidir’s perfect opportunity.

If he played his cards right, he could recruit a direct descendant of Balheim to his side.

Those who start with nothing are always the most ravenous when given a chance.

‘If I back this boy from the shadows, stoke his vengeful fire, and elevate him to head of Balheim itself…’

From this generation onward, Balheim might become Staron’s faithful blade.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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