Chapter 102
“Oscar Tradi, can’t you hear me?”
“…Huh?”
Oscar, who had been staring blankly out the window of the swaying carriage, suddenly snapped to attention.
His parents, both looking displeased, were glaring down at him with arms crossed.
“I was telling you not to act on your own. Now you’re not even pretending to listen?”
“If you’re so proud of your sword, then try swinging it at your father too!”
Oscar sighed and rubbed his face.
His body felt heavy and tired, even though he’d slept well and hadn’t even dreamed. He couldn’t understand why he felt so drained.
Today was important. It was the day to take revenge for his one and only younger sibling, Love.
Even if Boris Rohia wasn’t at his best, Oscar was confident he could beat him anytime. But today, for Love, he had to give it his all.
No—he must.
“Ugh, I’m tired. I’m done for today.”
“I’ll stay a bit longer. Take Joseph inside first.”
Boris had always given his best.
Even if it was stubborn or foolish, Oscar never doubted the sincerity of Boris’s determination.
That’s why Oscar couldn’t allow himself to do any less than Boris.
‘Why does my head feel like this?’
He rubbed his tired eyes and stretched his arms.
Something had felt off since morning. His mind wouldn’t settle—it felt like fireworks were going off in his head.
“Please accept my feelings, Oscar!”
Huh?
Oscar frowned as a strange voice echoed in his mind.
“Look behind your head—see who’s there!”
The voice came again. It sounded familiar, yet strange. Along with it came random images flashing in his mind like broken glass—appearing and disappearing before he could fully grasp them.
Clatter—
The sound of the horses felt louder than usual. When the carriage stopped, Oscar started to get up quickly, but a strong hand pushed him back into his seat.
“Oscar.”
His father, Benzen Tradi, spoke firmly.
“You must stay calm. You’re meeting the Emperor.”
“…”
“But also, don’t lose this match.”
Oscar looked up sharply.
His mother, Faria Tradi, had turned to look out the window. Her pretty eyes had tears in them.
Love was a puppy they brought home after their twin daughter passed away at birth. She had become the joy and comfort of their family.
“Show that little tyrant from the Rohia family what happens when someone messes with the Tradi family.”
Oscar wiped the corner of his eye and nodded firmly.
Once they reached the palace, Oscar headed to a quiet wall near the forest to practice with his sword. After warming up, he paused.
‘Ugh… my head…’
No matter what he did, he just couldn’t focus today. It felt like he was stuck in a noisy crowd.
Still, the clock was ticking, and Oscar walked toward the training grounds.
“Oscar!”
A familiar voice and quick footsteps made him turn his head.
He blinked in surprise.
“Izana?”
Green hair flew through the air.
Izana Monica Rohia—Joseph’s younger sister and currently a hot topic among noble families—was running toward him, being carried piggyback by her attendant.
“Why are you being carried, Izana?”
Oscar hesitated, taken aback by the attendant’s large, muscular build.
Izana slapped her attendant’s shoulder in embarrassment.
“See, Alfred! I told you I could walk by myself!”
The attendant chuckled and answered for her.
“Lord Oscar, the young lady isn’t feeling well today, so I brought her myself.”
He gently set her down and bowed before walking off.
Izana smoothed out her dress and said, “Whew, I heard you had already arrived. I’ve been looking all over for you. Where were you?”
Oscar lifted his sword with a sheepish smile. “Just doing a little practice. My body felt stiff. Oh, and sorry I missed you when you came to the house. Thanks for caring. My mother wants to invite you to a tea party to apologize, so you’ll get an invitation soon.”
Izana blinked slowly, then said bluntly, “Nope.”
“…Huh?”
“We did meet. Don’t you remember?”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “I was sick and stayed in my room the whole day.”
“I told you to remember my face clearly.”
She stepped closer. Oscar instinctively took a step back.
“I-Izana, what are you talking about?”
“Oscar, think back to the day when you said Boris broke Love’s leg.”
Oscar backed away in confusion until he hit a cold wall.
“Izana, I really don’t…”
She didn’t stop. Their faces were now only inches apart.
Izana pointed to the back of her head.
“It wasn’t Boris. Your memory of that day—someone messed with it using magic.”
“What? What do you mean…? That devil must’ve said something strange to you again—ugh!”
Oscar clutched his head in pain. Izana gently held his shoulder and whispered quickly,
“It wasn’t Boris who hurt Love. Someone used magic on you. And… to find that magic, I used a spell on you too.”
Love. Our Love.
Oscar couldn’t understand what she was saying, but the name “Love” brought back the memory in a flash.
Boris had called him out early that morning. Took him to the hill and showed him Love, badly injured.
Boris had smiled. It was a bright, gentle smile.
And then…
“Oscar, can you hear me?”
Oscar suddenly dropped his hands. His lips turned pale.
“Why… why are you in that memory…?”
“There’s more than just my face in there. Think harder.”
“Argh—”
A sharp pain struck Oscar like lightning. He grabbed Izana’s shoulders and stumbled.
“What is this? What the hell is going on? If it wasn’t Boris, then who…?”
“You know, Oscar.”
Izana gently held his head and whispered with sadness,
“Because you’ve already seen it.”
Clang!
Oscar’s sword fell from his hands.
He mumbled in a trembling voice, “J… Joseph?”
A horrible image flashed across his vision.
A face behind his head… whose was it?
Why was it there…?
Just then, someone called out to him.
“Oscar, your duel is starting. Why are you still here? Don’t tell me you’re making His Majesty wait?”
The voice snapped him out of it.
Oscar looked at Izana, his eyes shaking.
Her eyes, like flower petals, held a deep shadow. And in that moment, he read the concern behind them.
Without a word, Oscar turned and ran toward the training ground.
***
Meanwhile…
I silently watched Oscar’s back as he ran away.
A tall shadow suddenly fell over me.
“Izana, Shuran has finally calmed down.”
I turned my head slowly at the mention of Shuran.
Winter, who was holding (Former) Sweet Potato, looked unusually tired.
Early this morning, just after I coughed up blood and was resting, (Former) Sweet Potato suddenly began to grow roots wildly—as if it resonated with my magic circle.
This time was different. It wasn’t crying or throwing a tantrum. It just quietly closed its eyes, as if it had fallen asleep.
I had thought that peeling the sweet potato would stop the roots from growing again.
I was wrong.
