A diary, as commonly understood, is a way to record one's experiences.

If Black Book's ability is to "keep a diary," then could the assassin standing before you also be considered a form of recording?

If the assassin can be recorded by Black Book, what about other things? Or even other people?

The more Moen pondered, the more excited he became.

"In that case, doesn’t that mean I now have the equivalent of an extreme version of a Sharingan? All I need to do is record other people's techniques, and I can freely 'leech' them—no tuition fee required!"

"And with such a realistic environment and opponents, I can definitely grasp skills much faster!"

"With such a powerful cheat code, why would I ever fear the protagonist?"

Moen's eyes grew increasingly bright, as if he could already see a future where he kicks the protagonist's ass, punches the antagonists, marries the rich beauty, and reaches to the pinnacle of life.

"Ah."

Unfortunately, before he could figure out whether he should marry a gentle elder-sister-type rich beauty or a sly, mean elder-sister-type rich beauty, instead, he saw the assassin suddenly flash before him once again.

Then, she raised her dagger.

"Damn."

Moen had no chance to react. He could only let out a powerless curse in anger.

And so, his head was off once more.

...

"Again!"

Returning to reality, Moen barely had time to properly savor the lingering sensation of death before slapping Black Book's page decisively.

"I won't believe this!"

...

The dark space—Moen opened his eyes.

The assassin still stood not far away, roughly a dozen meters apart, in the exact same position she occupied during his first and second attempts.

But Moen knew this distance was merely nothing to the assassin.

"So, my goal now is to learn her footwork?"

That skill allowing her to instantly flash a dozen meters away was incredibly tempting to Moen. If he mastered it, he'd dramatically improve his odds of escaping dangerous situations!

"At least give me a weapon!"

Moen glanced around at the empty surroundings.

"How am I supposed to fight her bare-handed?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Moen noticed a cold metallic object in his hand.

Looking down, he saw that it was a dagger—a dagger identical to the one in the assassin's hand.

"As expected, I can only use things that have been recorded."

Moen didn’t specialize in daggers, but that didn’t matter—the assassin's dagger techniques were worth studying as well.

Raising his head, Moen curved his lips into a smile.

Although Moen was a relative nobody compared to the protagonist who has her cheat-code, he was at least a duke’s son. The foundation of his upbringing made him stand out in his age group.

The fact that his warrior abilities were still somewhat comparable to the protagonist’s early-stage power was the evidence.

Facing the assassin directly, of course, left him without any chance of victory. But...

"Right now, you’re just a mere shadow created by Black Book's records."

Moen reversed his grip on the dagger and adjusted his stance.

"So, just hand over all your skills and techniques!"

...

The assassin, being merely a shadow formed by Black Book's recording, naturally didn’t respond to Moen’s taunts. She could only attack Moen as she had in life—with cold, relentless silence.

"Here she comes!"

Moen’s gaze sharpened.

The assassin, as always, stomped her boot forcefully against the ground.

Her figure instantly disappeared. Of course, it wasn’t a true disappearance—her sheer speed simply allowed her to momentarily evade Moen’s sight.

When she reappeared, she was already within inches of Moen.

"You think the same move is going to work on me again?"

Even a pig, after being killed twice by the same technique, would develop some sort of reaction—let alone a human!

So the moment the assassin made her move, Moen had already anticipated it: her target was undoubtedly his neck!

The disparity in their abilities was a huge gap, making it impossible for him to react sheerly by reflex. But he could predict her attack!

Thus, as soon as the assassin vanished from his view, Moen tilted his head left, avoiding the lethal strike aimed at his right carotid artery.

Whether or not the assassin was aiming for the carotid artery was irrelevant, since her dagger always severed Moen’s neck no matter the target.

But no matter how sharp a blade is, its lethality depends on whether it makes contact!

A missed stab is no deadlier than a toy!

Observing the assassin falter briefly after her dagger failed to cut his head off, Moen couldn’t help but grin arrogantly.

"See? Even with such a huge gap in strength, all I need to do is use my brain, and—"

Moen didn’t finish his sentence.

Because he heard the distinctive sound of rushing wind.

It was the sound of a blade cutting through the air.

Though the assassin’s initial strike had missed, she didn’t change her tactics or back away to reorganize her another attack.

She just loosened her grip.

The dagger spun in her palm, like a fluttering butterfly.

She gripped the weapon again—but now in a reverse position.

Thus, the blade, which had slid past Moen’s neck, was back after a spin.

"Damn."

Before Moen could curse properly, the blade plunged cleanly into his carotid artery.

Blood sprayed.

Consciousness faded.

...

"Dammit."

Moen’s eyes snapped open, still filled with lingering unease from his sudden death.

"Even her reflex responses are identical to the original?"

The assassin three days ago, who had tried to assassinate Celicia, certainly hadn’t spun her blade like this.

In other words, the maid’s actions in the dark space were entirely crafted by Black Book’s recorded replication of her instincts and reactions.

"Black Book’s ability to reproduce records is terrifyingly precise."

After realizing this, rather than feeling frustrated, Moen's eyes gleamed with excitement.

The more accurate the replication, the greater its value to him!

Moen glanced at the clock on the wall.

"The flow of time is consistent—so I only held on three seconds there?"

"Again!"

Moen slammed his hand down on Black Book once more.

...

"Five seconds this time—I’m improving! Keep it up!"

"Again!"

...

"Ten seconds!"

"Again!"

...

"Damn, I should’ve blocked that sweeping move instead of dodging it!"

"Again!"

...

"She used a knee strike—how is she this skilled?"

"Again!"

...

"Damn it, a groin kick? That’s so nasty! She’s way stronger than me that I'm in no position to fight back!?"

"Again!"

...

"Master, it’s time for dinner."

Ann knocked on the door as she entered, carrying a meal to Moen’s room for his convenience.

"..."

"That’s strange. No response—did he fall asleep?"

Ann didn’t call out further. Instead, she casually opened the door and stepped inside.

Sweeping her gaze across the room, she noted that the desk showed signs of recent use—indicating that her master hadn’t simply been sleeping this whole time.

After placing the food on the desk, Ann turned her attention to the bed.

She saw that Moen was tightly bundled under the covers, curled up into a ball.

"Ah, even at this age, he still sleeps like a child."

"He must’ve only just fallen asleep. I should not disturb him."

After some thought, Ann cast a small warming spell on the food and quietly left without making a sound.

Once Ann was gone, a thought popped out from the ball.

Moen’s bloodshot eyes fixed on the tantalizingly fragrant meal.

In a voice only he could hear, he muttered under his breath:

"Just one more time—just one more try. After this, I’ll get up and eat dinner!"