* * *

Fortunately, Carl did not run away.

After that, I started serious swordsmanship training under his guidance.

He called me out every morning at six to make me run.

‘Ha. I’m going to die, really. Is this guy getting revenge because I tore his clothes?!’

Like a high school student participating in a marine camp, I ran myself to death on the outdoor training ground.

Deborah, passing by the annex, saw me and spoke.

“You’re full of energy from the morning.”

To be precise, she picked a fight.

“Life must be boring for you. You’re just exercising at our place for no reason.”

“Huff, huff.”

I was so exhausted that I couldn’t speak immediately. After brushing my sweat-soaked hair and taking a deep breath, I replied.

“You too, huff, since you came here early in the morning, huh, isn’t life boring for you?”

“I’m different from you.”

Deborah snapped back, and I frowned slightly.

“You? I’m older than you, so you should call me sister.”

“No. You might smell of sweat, so don’t come near me.”

I shook my sweaty hand at her face, which was openly frowning.

Take that.

“Eek! What are you doing?!”

Deborah shrieked and jumped back. I shrugged my shoulders annoyingly, and she huffed alone before turning away.

Oh, she’s so prickly.

After parting with her, I swung the sword up and down a hundred times again.

If my posture was even slightly off, Carl would start counting from the beginning.

He was truly acting like a demon.

After struggling through a hundred downward swings, two hundred thrusts at the training wooden target awaited me.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifte… It’s off-center. I won’t count it. Start again.”

With his keen eyesight, Carl stopped counting if I deviated even slightly from the center.

Only when my arms shook so much that I could barely hold the sword did he declare a break and go fetch water.

I sat on the training ground floor, staring blankly into space.

Life is dirty, really…

Someone approached me.

“Are you okay?”

“…Ah, Dain.”

The true reason I started this ordeal appeared with a fresh face and squatted next to me.

“I heard you’re training really hard? That’s amazing, isn’t it tough?”

“Honestly, it’s tough, but Carl is helping me a lot. He knows how to handle a sword.”

“Oh, that black-haired guy you brought with you when you came to our house?”

I nodded, and Dain murmured with a strange expression for a moment.

“You’re preparing more sincerely than I thought…”

He soon encouraged me with a friendly face.

“Don’t overdo it and take it easy. You’ll hurt yourself otherwise.”

“Yes, thank you for worrying.”

He glanced at the wooden sword lying next to my thigh and said.

“If you need a wooden sword, come find me. I tend to break them often, so I’ve stocked up.”

“Got it. Thanks for that too.”

“Then hang in there, I’ll be rooting for you.”

Dain got up and left to do his own training.

Watching him be so kind suddenly made me a little puzzled.

‘Is it because I pretended to be interested in swords? He’s really attentive…’

Drinking the water Carl brought back, I resumed my hellish training under my demon-like bondservant instructor.

“…Ah, it broke.”

The wooden sword, light but weak in durability, finally snapped in half.

Unfazed, Carl said calmly.

“Get a new wooden sword and start again.”

…Ha, he’s really relentless.

Having no spare wooden sword, I raised both hands.

“Then I have to go to Dain to get a wooden sword.”

We headed to the main building to meet Dain, who had already finished training and left.

While dragging my sore body down the west corridor, I heard a low voice through a slightly open parlor door.

“What’s your reason for calling a busy person, Dain?”

I instinctively stopped walking and grabbed Carl’s arm. Then, I silenced my footsteps and crept toward the parlor.

Peeking inside, as expected, the Crown Prince and Dain were sitting across from each other, having tea.

For reference, the Crown Prince had declared he wouldn’t visit the Duke of Diart’s residence until the day of the sparring.

‘Then why is he there?’

As I watched the two curiously, their conversation reached my ears.

* * *

Linus raised his teacup with a displeased face.

Dain, sitting opposite, smiled softly as always.

“Haha, have you been busy?”

“Of course. I have plenty to do besides sparring with your cousin.”

“I see.”

Dain silently set down his cup with a smile of unknown meaning.

He then spoke seriously, wiping the smile off his face.

“Linus.”

“What?”

“Can you cancel that sparring?”

“What?”

At the absurd question, Dain sighed deeply, lowering his eyebrows.

“Well, she’s pitiful.”

“Who? Miss Sharofe?”

“Yes, it’s really sad to see her struggling so hard.”

Having quietly watched Shailyn’s training from behind, he showed a sympathetic expression.

Now Dain also knew that Shailyn’s swordsmanship was truly poor.

If the sparring actually happened, she would end up losing miserably.

Having dreamed of being a knight and learning chivalry since childhood, Dain didn’t want to see a frail woman lose like that.

It would make him uncomfortable.

In short, he was trying to stop the sparring for his own sake, not Shailyn’s.

“Even if she approached us with a materialistic intent, I still felt sorry for her. How little must she have to try and get something by leeching off others?”

Linus let out a hollow laugh at the sympathetic remark, tilting his head.

“You have a broad understanding for someone who came to sponge off your family’s wealth.”

“What can I do? It’s better for people like us to understand and show generosity, isn’t it?”

Dain smiled generously.

“In fact, she probably wants to give up on the sparring too. Show her some mercy, Linus.”

One of the few lords in the Empire was offering his cousin expensive sympathy.

Linus, shaking his head low, thinking of him as a softie, was about to reluctantly back down.

“Alright, I’ll do as you say, but make sure to manage it properly—.”

Knock, knock.

Someone knocked on the parlor door.

Both men turned to look at the door.

“It’s me, Dain. Can I come in for a moment? I have something to say.”

“…Huh?”

Dain was startled by Shailyn’s voice coming from beyond the door.

Hesitating, he belatedly told her to come in.

“Shailyn Sharofe greets His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Shailyn entered calmly and first greeted Linus.

Then she casually turned her body toward Dain.

Linus furrowed his brows, feeling somehow displeased.

“I came because I need a wooden sword.”

“Oh, really? Tell Paul, and he’ll give you as many as you want. But by any chance, that…”

It was awkward to ask if she had heard their conversation, so Dain trailed off.

Shailyn, who was quietly watching him, spoke plainly.

“There’s no need to worry about me. Regardless of the outcome, I intend to spar with Your Highness.”

“Ah…”

“Then I’ll be going.”

While Dain was momentarily at a loss for words, Shailyn politely bowed her head and turned away.

Watching her leave, Dain felt unnecessarily uncomfortable.

He thought she might get angry or upset, but Shailyn’s calm reaction seemed to say she expected it.

‘Strange, it makes me feel like I’m wrong.’

He couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling.

* * *

Those annoying guys.

I muttered inwardly as I closed the parlor door behind me.

‘They’re completely full of arrogant prejudice!’

If I had really intended to throw myself at the Crown Prince or covet the Duke’s fortune, it would be different.

Meeting the Crown Prince was truly coincidental, and I only tried to get close to Dain.

Even though I hadn’t done anything else due to the sparring practice, they arbitrarily defined me as a greedy person.

A pitiful and pathetic human desiring something beyond reach.

‘But that’s just because I’m from the humble Sharofe family, and they’re thinking that without clear evidence.’

No decent parents, no ample wealth, but at least with a decent face.

I’ve been accustomed to such treatment throughout my life, but it made me even angrier.

‘If that’s the case, they shouldn’t have said they’d support me!’

It’s ridiculous to brand someone a materialist behind their back and then deceitfully offer sympathy.

This was a separate issue from me being objectively pitiful.

Pitying me while devaluing my efforts was disrespectful.

I clenched my fists tightly. Carl, who was following, cautiously touched my shoulder.

“Master, about what you heard—.”

“Ugh! I’m so mad!”

Unable to contain my boiling anger, I shouted into the air.