Chapter 39
Whoosh—splitting the air above and below with a heavy sound.
Clarissa watched Aryan in a daze, sweat beading on his skin.
Seeing Aryan swing a greatsword that seemed even larger than his own body was so tense that Clarissa quietly clenched her hands and swallowed hard.
It looks excessively heavy… is he okay?
She hurriedly tried to push the thought away.
No matter how naturally talented he was as a Swordmaster, the first time is always… well…
No, it’ll be, it’ll be fine.
Just as Clarissa barely reassured herself, with a loud clanging sound, the wooden sword slipped from Aryan’s hands and clattered to the ground.
Before she could think, her body moved on its own.
But just as she was about to rush forward, Adria swung an arm to block her path.
Clarissa glared sharply at Adria, who was standing in her way.
However, he only furrowed his brows slightly, showing no intention of letting her pass.
“Why…?”
She was about to ask why he was blocking her instead of letting her run when she saw Aryan, who had fallen to the ground, slowly getting up, covered in a cloud of sand.
He lightly brushed himself off, appearing remarkably untroubled, though the hand he used to scratch the back of his neck betrayed a slightly gloomy expression.
“Let’s call it a day.”
As expected, Delvina, the guardian of Asgard and the crown prince’s swordsmanship instructor, announced the end of today’s lesson.
Without saying another word to Aryan, she turned and approached Clarissa.
Strictly speaking, she went toward Adria, who was in front of her.
“Your Highness Adria.”
“Well done.”
Delvina bowed deeply to Adria, paying no attention to Clarissa at all.
It was the posture of a true ‘guardian’ who had protected Asgard for countless years.
Clarissa, glancing sideways at her icy face that seemed incapable of bleeding even if stabbed, suddenly realized why Adria had blocked her path.
No matter Clarissa’s status, Adria did not seem like someone who would lightly tolerate anyone interfering with his duties.
Clarissa was surprised to realize that her mentor, who had trained Aryan into a Swordmaster, was far colder in person than she had imagined from reading about her.
Indeed, the difference between reading about someone and experiencing them firsthand was considerable.
Good thing it wasn’t Delvina I met first in the palace.
By the time she shook herself from that thought, Delvina had already disappeared.
As soon as Clarissa noticed Delvina’s disappearance, she hurried toward Aryan, who was standing dazedly.
“Aryan!”
“Clarissa?”
Aryan’s face displayed surprise, delight, and a hint of embarrassment as he faced Clarissa rushing toward him.
“Yes, it’s me! Are you okay?”
“…I’m fine. But more importantly…”
Of course, he saw everything.
Feeling that he had shown his unrefined side to Clarissa, Aryan hung his head weakly.
Clarissa, pretending not to notice his feelings, smiled more brightly.
Then, raising her voice, she shouted with all her might:
“You’re amazing, Aryan!”
Aryan’s eyes went wide.
Seizing the moment, Clarissa quickly said what she had wanted to tell him.
“Swinging such a massive greatsword, you must be a genius! No, you are a genius.”
Her breath caught slightly. Aryan was not disappointed in her.
That alone allowed him to lift his head and gaze at the sky once more.
“Thank you, Clarissa.”
Aryan’s smile shone brighter than the sun.
Clarissa felt anew the hero-like dignity emanating from him and subtly looked away.
For some reason, her chest tingled uncomfortably.
“Oh, by the way, you must be getting hungry.”
She nervously fiddled with the basket she was holding.
Heat seemed to rise to her face.
Forgetting that her dress cost as much as a small estate, Clarissa plopped down on the ground.
She took out a thin tablecloth, spread it in front of her, and began arranging some rather misshapen bread that looked freshly baked.
Inspired by forest animals, the shapes were so bizarre that they were unrecognizable.
They were so dark on one side it was as if they had all been through a coal mine.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, she nevertheless confirmed one thing: they were safe to eat.
Straightening her back, Clarissa said proudly:
“The shapes aren’t great, but they’re edible!”
“This is…”
Aryan’s face changed subtly.
He seemed unsure how to approach the chaotic bread feast before him.
“I made them! I’m clumsy now, but I’ll do better next time. You have to eat them nicely, okay?”
Clarissa smiled innocently. Aryan no longer hesitated and sat down, just as she had earlier.
What had seemed strange now appeared more lovable than anything else in the world.
Nodding, Aryan reached for a red-stained bread shaped like a dog or a deer.
Before his hand could touch it, a long finger suddenly snatched the odd creature away.
Squinting, Clarissa pointed at the bread thief.
“Wait!”
Regardless of Clarissa’s shouted protest, Adria put the bread in his mouth without flinching.
His face twisted grotesquely.
Clarissa smirked, feeling he deserved it, but what came out of his mouth next was impossible to ignore.
“Was this some sort of torture?”
“I didn’t make it for Your Highness to eat! Spit it out! Aryan didn’t even get enough.”
Suppressing the urge to spit it out, Adria shoved the remaining portion into his mouth, apparently to spite Clarissa.
As expected, Clarissa, getting impatient, shouted toward Aryan:
“Aryan! Eat it before that rotten crown prince finishes it all!”
“You’d better not eat this. It tastes awful.”
“Ah, really! Spit it out, spit it out!”
Adria, without pause, added needless commentary.
Clarissa, flushed with anger, snapped at him without fully knowing what she was saying.
Aryan watched the scene blankly, as if it were a dream.
No one remembered his mistakes anymore.
The shame of errors, the pain—they all seemed to vanish.
He felt he could forgive himself, no longer curled up in the cold box.
Blinking, nothing had disappeared.
The wide training ground, the two people still hiding their annoyance from each other, the faintly aching arms, even the sweet smell of Clarissa’s bread—they were all still there.
Aryan was there.
“Ahh!”
The morning at the Lisette Marquis household began, as always, with Clarissa’s shriek.
Thanks to Aryan, she could visit the palace more often than she expected.
It was nearly perfect—absolutely ideal.
But one thing annoyed her daily.
I knew he had a terrible temper from the start…
Without a doubt, it was that cursed crown prince who refused to leave her side.
It seemed he had discovered the perfect way to torment Clarissa, constantly interfering with her time with Aryan.
Technically, it was she who interrupted his time, but the world always revolves around oneself.
Clarissa, ignoring the truth, recalled something the crown prince had said a few days ago:
[Nowadays, it seems he calls his nanny his fiancée?]
Bang! She slammed her fist onto the desk, unable to hide her frustration.
“Just because he’s the crown prince, he can do anything?”
Even as she thought the future of Asgard looked grim, Clarissa could not continue speaking and had to swallow her anger quietly.
Adria had a reason for provoking Clarissa like that.
Specifically, he had finally realized the delicate nature of Clarissa and Aryan’s relationship.
