I was a kitchen knife.
A thick, long kitchen knife.
I had once slit countless throats in Chef Nelson's hands, and with my sharp blade, I had slowly parted the smooth skin of humans.
Actually, I quite enjoyed that silky feeling of being cut apart... I was a kitchen knife, a sharp kitchen knife. I was proud, I was bloated with confidence—until I knelt before a strand of spider silk.
Then, I was abandoned by my creator and thrown into a black, chaotic, filthy trash can.
I swore that one day, I would cut through everything beneath the heavens. I would continue sharpening myself. I would become even sharper. I...
"Eh? Why is there a kitchen knife here?"
In the castle corridor, a broad-faced, powerfully built man bent down and picked up the kitchen knife from the ground—before this, the kitchen knife had been standing upright.
But when the man appeared, the kitchen knife quickly gave a clink and fell to the ground—I was a sharp kitchen knife, but right now, I needed to play dead.
The man who picked up the kitchen knife weighed it in his hand, then casually swung it a few times... Perhaps because the kitchen knife was unexpectedly easy to handle, the man then stuck it into his belt.
Then, the man looked around the corridor before opening his trench coat and taking a rolled-up map from its inner pocket... a Living Map.
This man was none other than the coachman responsible for driving the carriage when Miss Gong Linna arrived.
"This way?" The coachman looked toward a certain direction ahead, then walked over thoughtfully.
—I was a sharp kitchen knife.
—My creator had given me an order. This was a wonderful opportunity for me to perform well and wash away my humiliation.
—But now