“So-called diaries are records of one’s own experiences. If the black book’s ability is ‘keeping a diary,’ then is the assassin appearing before me also a form of recording? If assassins can be recorded by the black book, what about other things? Or other people? The more Mu’en thought about it, the more excited he became.
“This way, wouldn’t I be the ultimate cheapskate version of the Sharingan? I can just record others’ moves and copy them for free—no tuition required! Plus, such a realistic environment and opponent would definitely help me master skills faster! With such a powerful cheat, why should I fear the protagonist?”
Mu’en’s eyes gleamed brighter as he envisioned a future where he would kick the protagonist, punch the villains, marry a rich and beautiful woman, and ascend to the peak of life!
“Ah…”
But before he could decide whether to marry the gentle, older sister type or the snarky, scheming older sister type, the assassin appeared before him again—and raised a dagger.
“Dammit.”
Mu’en didn’t even have time to react, only managing to curse in helpless rage before his head rolled once more.
“Again!”
Back in reality, before even properly processing the lingering sensation of death, Mu’en slapped the black book’s pages. “I refuse to believe this!”
In the dark space, Mu’en opened his eyes. The assassin still stood about ten meters away, exactly where she had been the first two times he’d entered. But Mu’en knew that ten meters was basically nothing to her.
“So, my goal now is to learn her movement skill?” That instant teleportation made Mu’en drool with envy. With it, his escape abilities would skyrocket! “But at least give me a weapon!” He scanned the empty surroundings. “How am I supposed to fight her barehanded?”
As soon as he spoke, he felt something cold in his hand. Looking down, it was a dagger—identical to the assassin’s. “So, it can only recreate things that have been recorded?” Mu’en wasn’t skilled with daggers, but it didn’t matter. The assassin’s dagger techniques were worth learning too.
Mu’en raised his head with a smirk. Compared to the protagonist and his crew of OP cheaters, Mu’en might be a joke, but he was still the son of a duke. His foundational skills were top-tier among his peers. While he stood no chance against the real assassin, “You’re just a shadow recorded by the black book now,” he muttered, gripping the dagger, “So, hand over all your techniques and skills!”
The assassin, being nothing more than a recorded shadow, didn’t respond. She silently attacked, as she had in life.
“Here she comes!”
Mu’en’s gaze sharpened. As usual, the assassin stomped her small leather shoe on the ground—and vanished. But she wasn’t truly gone; she’d simply moved too fast for Mu’en’s eyes to follow. In the next instant, she was right in front of him.
“You think the same move will work on me again?” Even a pig would react after being killed the same way twice, let alone a human! So, the moment the assassin moved, Mu’en predicted her target: his neck. The difference in strength was huge, but he could still anticipate her moves. As the assassin disappeared from view, Mu’en tilted his head to the left, narrowly dodging the dagger aimed at his right carotid artery.
Sure, the assassin’s dagger always sliced through his neck, but a dagger has to hit its target to be lethal! A missed dagger might as well be a toy! Seeing the assassin momentarily pause as her dagger missed, Mu’en smirked triumphantly. “See? Even with a huge gap in strength, I just need to use my brain to—”
But before he could finish, he heard a whistling sound—the blade slicing through the air. The dagger had missed, but the assassin didn’t retreat or change tactics. Instead, she flipped the dagger in her hand like a butterfly and tightened her grip again—this time, with the blade reversed.
“Sh’t.” Before Mu’en could curse, the blade had already pierced his throat. Blood sprayed, and his consciousness faded.
“Dammit!” Mu’en opened his eyes, still shaken by the sudden death. “Even her reactions are identical to the real thing?” Three days ago, during Celicia’s assassination, the assassin hadn’t pulled any fancy knife tricks. This meant the shadow in the black book was recreating her real-time responses. “The black book’s recordings are this terrifying?!” Instead of frustration, Mu’en felt a surge of excitement. The more realistic the recordings, the better for him!
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “The time flow is the same. Tch, so I only lasted three seconds? Again!” He slapped the black book once more.
“This time, five seconds! Not bad. Keep going!”
“Again!”
“Ten seconds!”
“Again!”
“Ugh, I should’ve blocked that sweep instead of dodging!”
“Again!”
“Damn it, she even knows how to knee strike?!”
“Again!”
“F’ck, a low kick? She’s already so much stronger, and she’s playing dirty like this?!”
“Again!”
“Young Master, dinner is ready.” An knocked on the door, bringing food for Mu’en.
“…Huh? No response. Is he asleep?” Without waiting, An naturally opened the door. The desk showed signs of use—Mu’en hadn’t been sleeping the whole time. She placed the food on the table and looked toward the bed, where Mu’en was tightly wrapped in a blanket cocoon.
“Tsk, still sleeping like a child at this age. He must’ve just fallen asleep—best not to disturb him.” After some thought, An left the food and quietly cast a heat-preservation spell before silently slipping away.
After An left, a head peeked out from the cocoon. Mu’en’s bloodshot eyes stared at the delicious dinner as he muttered to himself, “One more round. After this one, I’ll get up and eat!”
