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The silhouette stepped outside the dust cloud.
The Caucasian man was clad in a somewhat antiquated yet elegant full-body armor. His appearance seemed so anachronistic and surreal.
Unless it was for a movie, who would strut around in full plate armor these days?
However, the Iemoto didn’t feel like pointing that out because of several blood splotches on the white armor’s surface.
That armor wasn’t some mere ceremonial outfit, but an actual tool of war. All those blood splatters proved that.
While holding a sword in one hand, this knight entered the garden while waving the dust cloud away with his free hand.
The Iemoto silently glared at this man, this… old knight.
The old knight with a head full of white hair smiled brightly without even bothering to wipe away all the blood on his face.
From this man, the two opposing impressions of ‘intellect’ and ‘savagery’ could be felt.
“Well, this…”
The old knight, the Master of the Round Table, lightly tapped on his sword with his palm while addressing the Japanese in the garden.
“I am genuinely gutted to make your acquaintance this way.”
The Iemoto frowned deeply at how relaxed this foreigner sounded. “And who are you supposed to be?”
“The Round Table calls me the Master.”
“…The Round Table!”
The Iemoto’s expression crumpled hideously.
Of course he heard that the Korean...
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