STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

07. FIGHT THE BANDITS

The carriage got surrounded by those bandits very quickly, trying to demand they give up all their valuables or die.

Surely there are more creative ways to commit suicide.

Servants and knights are expendable in case of a bandit attack. This goes without saying, of course— protect the young master and guests first, the luggage next, and everyone else has to fend for themselves.

One of the bandits— the one that looked like he was dressed slightly more well than the others, his lanky figure and proper buttoned clothing— chuckled when he saw the only servant guarding the most important luggage at the back of the young master's carriage.

"Haha! Just a small mouse, huh? How old are you, little boy?"

The Knights looked busy, Hillsman organizing them loudly. Choi Han was busy shredding through most of the bandits over there— where's Ron? South didn't see him around.

So he turned to the man. "I'm twenty years old, Lanky ahjussi."

He laughed again. "Still a kid! Well, little mouse, let us have that chest, and we won't hurt you. You're such a pretty boy, so if you become the boss' possession, you don't have to die here."

South looked to the side. No one was looking this way.

He took out his knitting needle that was tucked into his hair, letting his hair fall loose from its half updo.

"Oh?" the man raised a brow, "you want to fight?"

"Of course not," he said, "I'm going to lose if we fight."

"You're a funny kid."

Pulling up his sleeve, he found it pretty easily— a new tattoo, right in the center of his forearm above his elbow— a tiny silhouette of Mickey Mouse's logo.

"...What, just because you called me a little mouse? How uncreative."

"What are you chattering about to yourself?!" he grew annoyed, pointing his shortsword forward. "Don't waste my time, boy! Do you want to live or not?"

South aimed the needle at the tattoo, and looked up at him.

"I should ask you that too. You can run away now and I pretend not to see you, or I'll let those scary knights kill you, which do you want?"

"Huh?! That's enough of your joking around—"

"Okay, so you want to die," South stabbed it down, slicing a deep gash through the symbol. He let the red flow down toward his hand.

As his blood hit the ground, the man fell to his knees, as if stricken.

"What the— hell?!" he couldn't lift his head, "you bastard— why can't I—"

He struggled, but his legs could not rise for long, and his hands were supporting him with difficulty, as if gravity were chaining him to the earth.

"What did you do to me?!"

His voice grew hoarse with effort. He scrambled for his sword, but it was too heavy against the weight of his limbs. He forced himself to swing, but it went wide and weak, and he heaved a tired breath after missing.

South observed, leaning back against the carriage as if this were a nonchalant occurrence. He inspected the wound on his arm and tucked away his needle.

"Good thing you're kind of weak."

This power he brought with him from his other life was not very useful for battle. At least, not while he was on his own— but it was still very useless compared to something that could easily defeat opponents.

After certain conditions are met, he could 'chain down' a target.

The bleeding was the price, and he would always feel so nauseated and anemic afterward. And he could not restrain someone too much stronger than him, at least not for long. His body was also always completely numb while using it, and if the target was much stronger than him then there would be excruciating pain too. This meant he could not use a sword while this power was active— and he was also completely defenseless.

Truly a useless power in time of war. He couldn't move his arm at all, it felt like a broken limb. But at least this proved that his power worked decently on the humans in this world. He's only used it on horses so far after being transmigrated.

"I guess this is as far as I can restrain someone at this level..."

Satisfied, he got up, looked over the roof of the carriage, and found who he was looking for. The others were all busy fighting, but the servants were more focused on defending. Which meant one particular guy was definitely free.

"Vicross-nim!" he hollered. "There's one bandit here, can you deal with him for me?"

"You piece of sh—"

"Ahjussi," South emphasized, feeling a spike of pain through his arm and growing annoyed. "Even horses know how to behave. So sit and wait."

With a swing of South's hand, the bandit's face slammed into the ground, and he was quiet from there.