Chapter 10
At that moment, Ludwig was swinging a sword among the knights in the imperial palace training ground.
He had always felt that longswords weren’t compatible with him.
‘Bows or daggers suit me far better.’
But still, he wanted to master the longsword.
Because Empress Olive had been deeply connected—more often than not—with those skilled in longswords, such as Prince Carlos and Million Goldrot.
He wanted to be part of that connection.
Wiping off his dripping sweat, Ludwig looked around.
Under the scorching sun, shirtless knights were drenched in sweat, immersed in their training.
“You’re all doing well, I see.”
Ronald Cobart, the deputy commander who had said he was stepping out to a bakery, had already returned. His booming voice echoed across the training ground.
He threw off his cumbersome uniform jacket and tossed it over the fence.
Now in a sleeveless, simple tunic, Ronald scrutinized the training knights with sharp eyes.
Only belatedly recognizing Prince Ludwig among the group, Ronald gave a silent bow of respect. Ludwig nodded in return.
Ronald continued walking around the ground, correcting the knights’ stances.
Watching Ronald with a cold gaze, Ludwig pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. It was a checklist of Olive’s “ideal man,” which Lady Lily Conwell had secretly given him on Planus’ birthday.
Kind to me — √
High-ranking title — √
Capable — √
Wealthy — √
Strong —
Handsome — √
Carlos-style haircut — √
Ludwig had already checked off most of the boxes.
He didn’t realize that checking them off so confidently didn’t necessarily make them true—and that this checklist wasn’t the most reliable source. But Ludwig had no way of knowing.
Only one box was left blank.
“Strong man, huh…”
Ludwig muttered to himself.
He considered the two possible interpretations of “strength.”
In bed—he was confident. Even Olive, who had once firmly rejected him, couldn’t resist in that moment…
Just recalling the memory made a deep tension build in his lower abdomen. A dangerous spark flashed in Ludwig’s eyes.
The knights training nearby—wearing only pants—hurried to grab their shirts and dress properly after glancing at Ludwig’s lower half.
Though they scrambled away looking flustered, Ludwig didn’t care.
Then he considered the second kind of strength: literal physical power.
For that benchmark, Ludwig looked at Ronald, the deputy commander standing nearby.
The Empire’s strongest sword. Back before his regression, Ronald had been one of the biggest obstacles when Ludwig seized the throne.
A brute with nothing but strength.
Though Ludwig’s martial arts and swordsmanship, honed since childhood, weren’t bad—they still weren’t enough to defeat Ronald.
There was a huge gap between noble bloodlines and warrior bloodlines. Ronald’s monstrous physique—capable of cutting down even the angelic Celestials—was infuriating.
Feeling Ludwig’s intense gaze, Ronald turned around and approached him after overhearing some of the knights murmuring.
“Your Highness Ludwig, pardon me, but perhaps you should take a short break.”
Though his tone was polite, Ronald’s blue eyes were filled with clear disdain.
Annoyed, Ludwig looked at him with narrowed eyes. Ronald, in turn, deliberately glanced down at Ludwig’s lower half before returning to eye level.
Following Ronald’s gaze, Ludwig checked himself. His pants were noticeably tight, but he didn’t consider it a real problem.
“I don’t see any reason to take a break.”
Raising his head, Ludwig replied calmly and picked up his sword again.
He once again eyed Ronald’s build, determined to someday match that physique.
‘Why is the prince looking at me so intensely…?’
Ronald took an instinctive step back, startled.
Ludwig thought Ronald was intimidated by his aura. Look at that—just one smile from him and Ronald was shaken. Winning that little power struggle lightened his mood.
Though the midday sun blazed down on him, Ludwig continued swinging his sword in the now-empty training ground, ready to check off the “[Strong]” box on his list.
“If you don’t have a partner, go with me. But I already have someone in mind for my first dance.”
Recalling what Million had said to her the previous evening, Olive pulled out two yarns and two knitting needles from her magical pouch.
The yarn, rolled like a ball, tumbled off the table and unspooled across the floor. Ludwig, who was sitting nearby, stood up to retrieve it and placed it back on the table.
Snapping out of her daze, Olive quickly apologized and began neatly organizing the materials on the table.
“Something troubling you?”
Ludwig asked, studying her face. Though expressionless, he seemed genuinely concerned.
“Ah, n-no…”
She couldn’t bring up Million in front of the very man whose partner proposal she had rejected. Olive quickly picked up the yarn to begin the lesson.
“W-well then—let’s start the lesson, Your Highness. Would you try holding the needle and yarn like this?”
Ludwig, raising one eyebrow, slowly lowered his gaze to Olive’s hands.
With the elegant motion of lifting cutlery at a banquet, he copied her exactly. Despite never having held knitting tools before, his form was flawless.
“You wrap the yarn around the needle like this and then—pfft.”
Seeing him, with his battle-hardened posture, carefully handling delicate knitting needles made Olive burst into laughter.
There he was—like a tyrant on the brink of destroying a nation—holding yarn as if it were the most serious task in the world.
She tried hard to suppress her giggles, thinking of sad things, but once she started laughing, it wouldn’t stop.
“Wrap the yarn… like… ahem… and then poke… pfft, I’m sorry!”
She paused.
Even trying to explain through clenched teeth, she couldn’t get through a single sentence properly.
Ludwig blinked slowly, unmoved. His face said, I don’t understand what’s so funny.
Olive bit her lip and furrowed her brow, trying to hold back laughter. Her upper body shook slightly from the effort, practically laughing without opening her mouth.
Even her nose began to twitch, and a snort escaped.
“Why is your nose twitching, Lady Olive?”
Surprisingly, the laughter quickly died down. Ludwig had poured cold water on her embarrassment.
Sitting perfectly straight, he crossed his long legs elegantly.
Now his serious eyes stared directly at her twitching nose.
How embarrassing!
Flushing red, Olive quickly covered her nose with both hands.
Ludwig tilted his head the other way, waiting for her explanation.
“M-my nose wasn’t twitching! You must’ve seen wrong!”
Ludwig was sure of what he’d seen, but her denial only made him more suspicious.
He knew she’d made that expression to suppress laughter.
But Ludwig had never seen Olive trying to hold back laughter before.
So he was curious.
Was she afraid he’d punish her for laughing? Did she not want to laugh in front of him? Or… was it like when she set fire to the palace?
…Was it that she hated him so much, even laughing felt wrong?
A wave of despair hit him, and his heart raced.
He reminded himself that he had returned to the past. Looking at the lovely woman in front of him calmed him.
Blushing, blinking nervously—he could now understand her feelings more clearly. She was just embarrassed by his comment.
He had the urge to make her cheeks even redder—but he had promised himself just days ago to be a better man.
“I didn’t see wrong.”
Ludwig calmly answered her earlier question while moving the knitting needle.
“If the opportunity arises, I hope you’ll explain that gesture to me next time.”
Though he hadn’t meant it that way, Olive’s face grew even redder, the blush spreading to her cute, upturned nose.
Her nose looked so much like a ripe cherry, he wondered if it might taste tart if he took a bite.
Suppressing the tingle in his teeth with his tongue, Ludwig stared at the tip of her nose.
‘What is this idiotic prince saying now!’
Olive groaned and rubbed her cheeks. His unwavering gaze made her more embarrassed.
Eventually, she glared at him, and only then did Ludwig shift his eyes away. With a huff, Olive stabbed her needle into the yarn with newfound force.
At first, Ludwig’s hands moved slowly like a turtle, but after a few tries, he was knitting quickly—just like Olive.
His stitches were impeccable.
Even spacing. Perfect size. If he took ten more classes, he might win this year’s knitting competition.
Though they were the same age, she was the teacher now. Olive pushed away her earlier feelings and praised his skill.
“You’re really good at this, Your Highness. Truly impressive.”
It was a sincere compliment.
Ludwig’s face brightened like a wildflower under spring sunlight. She even considered gifting him professional-grade knitting needles for their next session—
“I’m usually good at anything I do with my hands. Just so you know.”
…Or not. The arrogant student instantly crushed his teacher’s motivation.
He made self-praise seem like second nature. It was nearly admirable. Unbelievable, really. A sigh of wonder escaped her lips.
And of course, Ludwig’s sharp ears picked up on that. He raised his eyebrow at her, but Olive just gave a small smile and said nothing more.
Though 20 minutes of their hour-long lesson had been lost to laughter and chaos, Ludwig’s natural talent allowed them to finish all they had planned.
