IBLC 04

IBLC

Posted by cinderella, Released on October 9, 2025

Chapter 4

Have You Forgotten

A sparring match…? That sparring match?

For a moment, my vision went white, as though the world itself had blinked.
I had to flutter my eyes several times before reason began to return.

Oh, no.

So… Ian wasn’t confessing.
He was literally asking for a spar.

“Ah, yes. A spar. Right. There was a new recruit who asked me for that.”

I tried to sound calm, though I could feel my lips trembling despite the effort.

Hadn’t some people joked that Rosebellia probably fled to another kingdom because Ian’s relentless affection annoyed her?
That this whole novel was about a man who, after being rejected countless times, took vengeance on the woman who left him?

Wow. I’d really been drinking the author’s delusions, hadn’t I?
What an embarrassing legacy to leave behind for poor Rosebellia.

If there were a mouse hole nearby, I’d crawl into it.
Or maybe drown myself in a saucer of water.

“Yes. That was me.”

“Right… you were the new recruit who asked me to spar.”

Then what about all that talk of breathing together and matching pace?
What the hell did that mean?

“Do you truly not remember me, Senior?”

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, I noticed Ian’s brows drawing tight, a faint shadow of frustration flickering there.

Wait—was he angry?

In the original story, Ian and I were destined to kill each other—he by my hand, and I by his.
No matter what, I had to keep things from playing out the same way.

For now, the best plan was to stay on good terms while we were still in the same order, and quietly watch how things unfolded.

So I grabbed my head dramatically, pressing my temples like someone struck with sudden pain.

“Truth is, I’ve been pretty ill lately. My memory of the festival night’s a bit foggy.”

Ian tilted his head slightly—clearly skeptical.

“During the festival’s gladiator tournament, I’d been on a winning streak. Then you challenged me, Senior.”

Ah, yes.
The gladiator tournament held during the eve of the grand festival—Rosebellia’s memories had shown it before.

All contestants wore identical helmets, hiding their identities completely.
There were no entry restrictions, and only the final victor revealed their face and name to the cheering crowd, immortalized in the plaza until the next festival.

For unknown knights, it was a chance for glory.
For order knights, a matter of pride.

“You defeated me in one clean strike, then forfeited your place. I advanced by default… but forfeited as well, and followed you to ask for a proper duel.”

“And how did you know it was me?”

It was a simple question born of curiosity—but Ian’s ears flushed red in an instant.

“At first, I didn’t. But the moment our blades clashed… the feeling was unforgettable. I followed you in secret and saw you unmask. That’s how I knew. You said you’d think about it.”

He cleared his throat, awkwardly.
Embarrassed, perhaps, that a prince had stooped to tailing someone.

“I see. My mistake, then. Sorry about that.”

“Then… does that mean your answer is…?”

“Well… I guess I owe you at least one spar for the misunderstanding.”

Wait a second.
In the future, Ian and Rosebellia would become each other’s greatest rivals.
If I wanted to avoid that dynamic… shouldn’t I not spar with him?

But which choice had Rosebellia made in the original?
Had she accepted, or refused?
I couldn’t remember.

Was I really supposed to just agree so easily?
Maybe I should backtrack—

“Truly? You mean it?”

It was the most emotional I’d ever heard Ian’s voice.
I looked up, and his entire face was lit up in excitement.

If I took back my words now, it would probably ruin things between us completely.
Well, he clearly wanted it this much.
Maybe the spar could even help us grow closer.

So I made my decision and smiled confidently.

“If you can handle sparring with me, that is.”

“You needn’t worry about that. I’ll handle whatever you throw at me, so don’t hold back.”

In the original story, Ian changed completely after his coronation as Crown Prince.
His demeanor, his aura—everything about him became sharper, unreachable.
And his swordsmanship… transcendent.

“Your Highness, I have something I wish to say.”

“Speak.”

“It’s just that… I… I… care for you…”

A quiet sigh, cold and heavy, brushed past my ear.
When I looked up, Ian’s eyes—empty and glacial—were fixed on me.

I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but I could no longer deny it.
The man before me was no longer the one I had once loved.

“I am cursed,” he said flatly.

“W–What do you mean?”

“My body is cursed. I can love no one. That’s all I can tell you.”

I snapped back to the present, studying Ian carefully.
He looked barely able to contain his excitement.

That this boy would one day become the cold-hearted tyrant of war?
Hard to believe.

The Ian from the novel and the one standing before me felt like entirely different people.

And come to think of it…
the abrupt surge in his swordsmanship, the use of the word curse before Daisy—
had something already happened before the coronation?

I’d wondered that before when reading the story,
but since Ian hadn’t been my favorite, I hadn’t thought much of it then.

“Senior?”

“Hm?”

“Then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. The training hall near the annex should be fine. Preferably when no one else is around.”

“Understood. I’ll come early.”

I blinked.
Did he know Rosebellia often came early to train?

“Alright.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He bowed lightly and left first.
Only after his silhouette had shrunk to a small black dot did I finally let out a sigh.

So much for turning down a confession—
I’d ended up agreeing to a duel instead.

Hopefully… that wouldn’t be a mistake.

That night, I lay staring up at the ceiling swallowed in darkness.

It was the first decision I’d made since waking in this world,
and sleep refused to come.

Was it fear?
Anticipation?

I couldn’t tell.

Could I truly change the story?
And if I could—how?
What was it that I really wanted?

Those thoughts chased each other endlessly until dawn broke,
and I found myself at the training grounds early, stretching under the dim glow of morning.

Just then, as sunlight burst through the high windows, the doors creaked open.

Of course, I thought—it must be Ian.

But instead, a young, round-faced knight stepped in timidly.
Not someone I recognized. Probably one of the new recruits who’d joined with Ian.