Chapter 5

“Hmm.”

Leslie casually picked a sandwich from the tray and settled herself among the knights.

“M-M-Milady!”

The knights who recognized her jumped in surprise, but Leslie simply pressed a finger to her lips, having completely concealed her presence.

“Shh. Let me watch, too.”

The light-purple-haired woman standing in front of Ian was someone Leslie knew quite well.

Annabelle Nadit—the unfortunate illegitimate daughter who always came in second place, falling behind Leslie’s son in the swordsmanship tournament.

Apparently, she was the daughter Marquis Abedes had with the widow of some fallen noble family.

Even Leslie, who had little interest in high society, knew the name Caitlin Nadit.

Caitlin was always showing up everywhere and boasting, “Once our Annabelle is recognized as a member of the Marquis’s family…”

Leslie also remembered how much the Marchioness of Abedes had suffered because of her shamelessness.

An illegitimate daughter of Marquis Abedes, of all people. Poor girl. She certainly wasn’t blessed with good parents.

Annabelle’s biological father, Marquis Abedes, was objectively an irresponsible man.

As far as Leslie knew, after Annabelle was born, the Marquis had shown absolutely no interest in her beyond giving Caitlin a little pocket change to get her to stop pestering him.

The only time he had even acknowledged Annabelle was when he happened to encounter her at her first swordsmanship tournament. He had merely remarked bluntly, “Aside from that light-purple hair, you don’t look much like me.”

Even after Caitlin died and Rieard inherited all her property, he had done nothing for his daughter.

Surely he knew that the reason she was so obsessed with winning first place was to be recognized as a member of the Marquis’s family.

“She comes here practically every day and challenges Ian to a sparring match, doesn’t she? Did she come yesterday, too?”

Leslie was also aware that Annabelle came looking for her son every day and challenged him with her sword.

She understood the endless determination of someone in second place challenging the person in first.

After all, Leslie herself had once felt the same way toward the Duke of Wadeiros.

So Annabelle constantly charging at Ian didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Wasn’t that precisely the kind of tenacity a swordsman should have?

However, she had heard rumors that Annabelle didn’t even observe the basic etiquette expected of a swordswoman, which had made Leslie somewhat uncomfortable…

But seeing Annabelle formally bow and calmly draw her sword, Leslie decided that perhaps the rumors weren’t entirely true.

“She hasn’t come for the past few days. This is her first visit in a while.”

The knight answered faithfully.

“But she did encounter Lord Ian yesterday during the High Priest’s escort.”

Leslie’s eyes lit up with interest.

She urged him to tell her more.

After hearing about what had happened the previous day, Leslie tilted her head.

The knight described it as though Annabelle had saved the High Priest, but something about the circumstances seemed strange.

If so, shouldn’t she have blocked the attack in front of the High Priest?

Why had she blocked it in front of Ian instead?

Leslie hadn’t been there, so she couldn’t know for certain, but somehow, she had the feeling Annabelle had been protecting Ian from injury rather than the High Priest.

Just then, the two swords collided.

As expected, their movements are so clean. And her use of sword aura is incredibly sharp.

Leslie had seen the two of them face off in the swordsmanship tournament before, but that had been nearly four years ago, so watching them spar again felt fresh to her.

Wait.

Several exchanges passed.

They’re both strangely half-hearted.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she bit into her sandwich and eagerly waited for the next exchange.

Her back is completely exposed! There’s no way Ian would miss that. So why is he doing nothing?

For a split second, Annabelle had left an opening that allowed Ian to strike her back, but he simply let the opportunity pass.

Of course, Ian wasn’t the only one who seemed half-hearted.

“Hmph. Let’s stop here for today.”

Annabelle herself dodged Ian’s sword a few times rather casually before stepping back.

Something’s strange. There’s clearly room for more exchanges. And she doesn’t even look tired yet.

The other knights might not have noticed, but Leslie immediately realized that Annabelle wasn’t fighting at her full strength.

“Don’t use underhanded tricks.”

Ian seemed to have noticed her half-hearted movements as well. He narrowed his eyes and spoke quietly.

“I know all your tricks. Isn’t pretending to retreat before suddenly charging forward one of your 734 despicable tactics?”

Leslie clicked her tongue.

Knowing her serious-minded son, he wouldn’t have thrown out the number 734 randomly.

He had undoubtedly counted them one by one.

“What are you talking about?! I never said we were ending the spar!”

Annabelle said as she sheathed her sword.

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Let’s finish it tomorrow at seven in the evening.”

At the completely out-of-nowhere declaration, Ian frowned.

“No. I already have plans.”

Just then, Annabelle moved right up close to Ian.

Thinking she was about to launch another surprise attack, Ian quickly raised his sword.

But Annabelle leaned in and whispered something to him in an extremely low voice.

Leslie immediately focused all her senses, but could only make out a few words.

“…don’t go to… …because. …be careful. Especially…”

What? What did she say?

Frustrated, Leslie was just about to stand up and make her presence known when Annabelle stepped backward and shouted,

“How dare you ignore my challenge! May one foot fall into a puddle on a rainy day, only for a worm to crawl inside your shoe! And may you happen to yawn while walking down the street, only for a carriage wheel to splash muddy water all over you and leave your mouth feeling gross!”

Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Annabelle left the ducal estate.

Leslie let out a hollow laugh.

So those are the kinds of insults and curses she’s known for? That’s actually kind of cute.

And Ian, watching Annabelle’s retreating figure, wore an incredibly complicated expression.

For the first time in a long while, Leslie found herself wanting to take an interest in her son’s affairs.

No—more precisely, in the strange relationship between her son and his rival.

It was absurd.

There had to be some kind of trick behind this.

There was no way Annabelle would ever do something that benefited him.

Ever since he had easily defeated her at their first swordsmanship tournament when they were fourteen, Annabelle had been like a recurring migraine in his life.

Something he was always aware existed but normally forgot about—yet whenever it appeared, it made him miserable.

He wanted to live a life completely unrelated to her, yet she kept appearing out of nowhere with incredible persistence, and he couldn’t think of any satisfactory way to get rid of her.

“Don’t go to Hibiscus tomorrow night. I have a feeling something bad will happen to you.”

Annabelle’s whispered words had been a warning he never could have anticipated.

How did she know he had plans at a bar called Hibiscus?

“Even if you ignore me and go, keep your eyes on what’s ahead of you. Especially the western outer wall.”

It wasn’t exactly a secret, but he hadn’t known she was keeping track of even his private affairs.

Normally, he probably would have ignored her completely.

But he kept thinking about it.

That back covered in poisoned needles, looking almost like a pincushion.

He had been too busy with the escort at the time to stop and properly question her, but he could vividly remember the determined expression on her face as she moved toward him, almost as if shielding his right arm.

It was a thought that would sound insane to anyone else, but for the first time, he felt as though someone had protected him.

Logically, that made no sense.

But feelings were instinctive by nature, and there was nothing he could do about that.

“Did she change her plan? What kind of grand scheme is this?”

In the end, Ian made a decision.

He would only listen to half of what she had said.

He would go to Hibiscus, but he wouldn’t drink. Instead, he would remain highly alert and keep his eyes fixed ahead.

As he prepared to leave, he spotted Aaron standing in the ducal garden with his hands solemnly clasped together in prayer.

“Aaron Rainfield?”

Ian frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah.”

Aaron’s pink hair fluttered as he answered with a reverent expression.

“I’m praying for rain.”

There was no doubt that Annabelle’s curse about stepping into a puddle and getting splashed with muddy water had amused him yet again.

“And I was praying for the poor little worm as well. The fate of that worm is… Gah!”

Ian gave Aaron a solid kick and walked away with a sigh.

He had made Aaron his deputy because he was one of the most skilled members of the knights, but there was clearly something wrong with his head.

Leaving the rolling Aaron behind, Ian sighed and continued walking.

The sky was slightly overcast, and it really did look as though it might rain.

On his way into the city atop his black horse, he found himself strangely conscious of puddles, carriages, and things like that, unable to ride as freely as usual.

Whenever any of those things came into view, Annabelle’s face floated into his mind.

That had never happened even once since he had become entangled with her at fourteen.

“And now, at last, we have reached the final match of this year’s swordsmanship tournament!”

Fourteen-year-old Ian first saw the girl in the final.

There was something almost desperate in her expression.

There was unmistakable killing intent lingering in those deep blue eyes.

Ian, who had grown up as a noble young master and had made a name for himself as a swordsmanship prodigy from a young age, had never encountered such blatant hostility before.

Even if they were rivals, did she really have to glare at him with such intense hatred…?

And yet, despite everything, his first impression of the girl standing upright with a sword in her hand was that she was quite pretty.

That had nothing to do with her worn, inexpensive training clothes or the stiff expression on her face as she glared at him.

So when he defeated her and won the tournament, she remained strangely on his mind.

She had ground her teeth and glared at him as though she wanted to kill him after her defeat.

But he couldn’t exactly lose on purpose to an opponent he could beat.

Even so, his first impression of Annabelle Nadit, that girl, had definitely been a good one…

That good first impression didn’t even last a full day.

After that, Ian heard every insult known to mankind from Annabelle Nadit.

She came to see him every day to annoy him, charged at him using all kinds of underhanded methods, and committed every kind of outrageous act imaginable.

Eight years was more than enough time to blur even a good first impression that had once been so vivid.

But he couldn’t understand why she had suddenly started coming to mind so often lately.