Three months ago, I was still the strongest scout in the border army. Because I discovered that my superior was collaborating with the enemy, I was framed as a murderer. I was wanted all over the world.
He was on the run, hiding in the most chaotic district of the capital, in an inn run by a charming landlady, and barely surviving as a cook every day.
I thought this was the end of my life.
Until a murder occurred in the inn.
The person who died was a wealthy businessman, whose throat was sealed with a sword. The government investigated for three days and concluded that it was a vendetta and there was no clue.
But they didn't know that my world had changed after I woke up near death.
I can smell the special incense that belonged to the murderer that was left in the air three days ago; I can hear the irregular beating of the heart due to lying when the officer next door complained in a low voice; I can even touch the tea cup used by the deceased with my hands, and feel the faint emotion of fear and consternation that he had before he died.
