The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 1: The Apprentice Guard Boy.

The Apprentice Guard Boy.

“Onii-chan! Hey, Onii-chan! Are you sure it’s okay not to get up?”

“Ugh, just… just a little longer…”

His voice was still soft and dreamy, as if lost in a world of sleep. His fingers reached out, searching aimlessly for the blanket that had been pulled away.

His tousled, dull blonde hair stuck up wildly, and his half-open eyelids revealed eyes of a cloudy blue. Twisting restlessly on the bed, the small boy might have seemed somewhat endearing, depending on how you looked at him.

Meanwhile, standing over him with an exasperated expression was his younger sister, likely around fourteen or fifteen years old. Her black hair, gently wavy, fell to her shoulders, and her dark eyes conveyed a no-nonsense attitude. She exuded the air of someone far more responsible than her years.

“I told you, no! It’s already past eight in the morning!”

“Eight? Eigh… Wait! What?! Oh no, I’m gonna get chewed out by the old man!”

It was a warm late-spring morning, with petals falling from the sky. The water had just begun to warm with the approach of the day.

The boy’s voice, a mix of panic and despair, echoed through the guardhouse from the open window. The women gathered around the well outside stifled chuckles, clearly amused by the boy’s usual outbursts.

The boy’s name was Il. This spring, he had been assigned as an apprentice guard at the east gatehouse.

“Nisha, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!”

“I did wake you up! You just didn’t get up, as usual.”

Without even a moment to consider his sister’s pointed gaze, Il quickly tossed aside his pajamas. His sister, flustered, quickly turned her back, embarrassed.

“Wh-what are you doing, Onii-chan?!”

“Shut up! I don’t have time for this!”

Indeed, this was just the usual routine. Everyone in the guardhouse knew well of the diligent sister and her hopeless older brother.

“Il… Late again, are you? Honestly, if your father were still alive, he’d be in tears.”

Their mother peeked out from the adjacent room, right behind Nisha. Given that they lived in a cramped two-room guardhouse, she hardly needed to ask whether he was late—the situation was obvious. It was more of a habitual remark than anything else.

“Mom, please don’t bring that up,” Il muttered, scratching his head awkwardly. In his rush to get dressed, he had misbuttoned his uniform, causing it to tug strangely at odd angles. Noticing this, Nisha knelt in front of him, a bit exasperated but somehow slightly amused, and quickly began fixing his buttons.

“Honestly, big brother, you’re so hopeless.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. Well, I’m off!”

With that, Il darted out of the room with reckless energy. As his retreating figure disappeared, their mother sighed, though it wasn’t really directed at anyone in particular.

“Who on earth does that boy take after?”

At her mother’s words, Nisha gave her a strange look, as if seeing something curious for the first time.

“Well, it’s not you or Dad, that’s for sure.”

“Nisha, don’t say things like that.”

The mother’s tone instantly became sour, but her daughter didn’t stop.

“Why not? It’s not like it’s a secret. Big brother knows he was adopted, and Dad always used to say it. That one day, we’d become a real family, the two of us together.”

“Dad may have said that, but that doesn’t mean you have to follow through with it. That boy probably won’t amount to much.”

At this, Nisha pouted, slightly irritated by her mother’s harsh words.

“Even if we’re not related by blood, isn’t that a bit much to say? I’ll admit, he’s a bit of a blockhead. But still, imagining life without him? That’s impossible for me now. I’ve never thought of anything else but being with him, even up until now.”

“Honestly, your father really did say too much…”

Their mother sighed, the sound carried away by the breeze flowing in through the open window, mixing with the drifting pink petals and disappearing into the sky.