DWBAFM 25

Ten Minutes Before Maddy Slapped Shalome

Yulician had chased after Maddy to the back garden after she stole a kiss, but he lost sight of her.

“Where did she go…?”

His face was flushed bright red as he panted more heavily than usual.

He thought he’d gotten used to public displays of affection.
After all, they’d once kissed passionately when a spy intruded, holding each other close.

But barging in out of nowhere and kissing him after toppling him over like that—he hadn’t seen that coming.

To be caught in such a ridiculous situation in front of an unexpected guest…

Of course, the more he acted like a flustered fool over a woman, the less he’d seem fit to be king.
He knew that.
Still, he couldn’t help the fluttering in his heart.

Standing alone in the empty garden, Yulician grumbled under his breath, though no one was around to hear it.

“Still, that’s not right! You’re supposed to say something first!”

Even if this whole thing was a fraud carried out with mutual agreement for the entire nation to see,
what just happened… felt a little too real.

Yulician tightly shut his eyes.

He decided he’d tell her to hold off on kissing from now on.
Unless it was absolutely necessary, there was no reason for such physical contact.

Just then, a hand suddenly reached out from somewhere and yanked him in.

“Urgh!”

With a short grunt, Yulician was dragged into a storage room and instinctively reached for his sword.

But as soon as he recognized Maddy as the one who had pulled him, he lowered his hand.

Peeking outside to observe the surroundings, Maddy quickly whispered,

“I’m going to go out there and really rattle that cute little lady. When the moment’s right, you jump in and take my side. Like a prince. Got it?”

They were standing close enough that he could feel her chest against him.

She was so close, he was afraid she might hear his heart pounding.

Maddy’s hair brushed his chin, and her firm body was nestled in his arms.

“…Okay.”

Just like a fool, he answered obediently again.

As soon as she got his answer, Maddy returned to the main building.

Left alone in the storage room, Yulician suddenly realized something.

If one day Maddy turned against him and tried to kill him,
he’d probably die without even lifting a finger in defense.

Just like earlier—just like now—as soon as he realized it was her, he let go of his sword.

Maddy’s safe,
he thought.

And then scolded himself for thinking that—but it was no use.

Yulician quietly waited and did exactly what Maddy had asked.

…Perhaps because he had expected it, he wasn’t too shocked.

But he never imagined she would actually hit Lady Shalome.

The glares of the Bartoluz family’s servants as they carried the unconscious Shalome away were intense.

Today’s incident would definitely reach Count Bartoluz’s ears,
and the Emperor would not be pleased either.

After bringing Maddy back to her room, Yulician clutched his head.

“What the hell were you thinking, hitting Lady Bartoluz?!”

“I challenged her to a duel, and she accepted. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“They’ll find fault with anything! Just the fact that a commoner challenged a noble to a duel is outrageous!”

“Knights challenge each other regardless of rank all the time. Why can’t I?”

“Are you a knight?! What if you die?!”

“Huh?”

Maddy blinked in surprise, playing with the corner of her nail.

“What if you die, huh?!”

Yulician, hands on hips, paused mid-sentence—then quickly added,

“If you die, this whole operation goes to waste!”

“Ah, right. That’s true.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? If you’re executed for insulting a noble, how are we supposed to get married or protect me? What about the money?!”

“I’m doing this for the money. I can’t die.”

“Then why did you do it?! Do you not realize how big a mess this is now?!”

“Then you clean it up.”

“…What?”

“Go ask Lady Bartoluz to the ball.”

“…What do you mean?”

“An invitation to the Imperial Ball is His Majesty’s command. She can’t refuse, right?”

Without even realizing it, Yulician found himself rubbing his lips, staring directly at Maddy.

“You’re okay with me going to the ball with her?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s His Majesty’s command.”

“But… you’re my fiancée. We made it official.”

“You’re not going to marry her at the ball, are you? Just come back in one piece. Actually, even if you come back in pieces, we can still get married. So don’t worry.”

Maddy giggled like she’d made a great joke.

He couldn’t understand what went on in her head.

Talking to Maddy made him feel increasingly small, even claustrophobic.

Why was she making him so petty?

Yulician grabbed his coat and stood up.

“Going to Lady Bartoluz?”

It was a pure, innocent question—devoid of any malice.

Yulician replied with cold eyes.

“…I’ll tell the Emperor. That I only love you.”

“Ooh, how cool.”

“So I can’t go to the ball with her.”

“Got it! Bye, honey!”

Maddy waved cheerfully. Then suddenly clapped her hands, as if she’d just remembered something.

“Oh right, my loving fiancé—do you have a secret?”

“A secret?”

“A hidden lover or something? It’d be nice to know ahead of time. If it comes out later, cleanup’s gonna be a nightmare.”

Yulician’s face didn’t change at all.

“No. None of that.”

“Hmm… Got it! Make sure you come back alive! We still have the final payment pending!”

Maddy smiled again and waved, and Yulician left the room expressionless.

Even as he stepped into the carriage, he couldn’t stop thinking about her smile.

That ever-unchanging, emotionless, sunny smile.

He hated how indifferent it seemed.

“Papillon takes first place in Race 3! Rex comes in second, followed closely by Jonrad in third!”

“Whoaah! Goddammit!”

“Shit, my money! Aaargh!”

Roars of rage erupted from those who lost their bets.

“Papillon in first?! Are you kidding?!”

No one had expected Papillon—who’d been performing poorly for months—to win.

Most threw their now-worthless betting slips on the ground in frustration.

Except one neatly dressed young gentleman.

He ran a hand through his black hair with a confident smile and stood up.

“Anyone who bet on Papillon as the winner today will receive 30 times their original bet!”

Count Montenezzando had failed to pick a single winner among the top three and crumpled his ticket.

The well-dressed young gentleman beside him stroked his cane, which had a golden eagle carved into it, and slowly descended the stairs.

Count Montenezzando, curious and envious, followed.

Judging by his confident gait and attire, the man seemed like a foreign officer.

The gentleman boldly entered the lounge, showed his ticket, and received a fat bundle of cash.

“…Congratulations. You seem to have a talent for picking horses.”

The Count initiated conversation.

The gentleman raised his brows and smiled mildly.

“Just lucky. Well then.”

After he left, the Count placed another bet for the next race.

But for some reason, he didn’t win a single cent that day.

He figured he was just having a streak of bad luck—
until he kept losing every day for a week straight.

His emergency funds were almost completely drained.

Even when he picked a second-place horse once in a while, the next race would ruin everything.
He’d win a little on safe bets, gain confidence, go all in—and lose it all again.

It was thrilling, yes, but with his money disappearing, it became harder to enjoy.

Eventually, Count Montenezzando decided to stake everything on the next race.

He was about to bet half of next month’s living expenses.

Just then, he ran into the familiar foreign officer—the one who kept winning.

They exchanged brief nods.

The Count pulled out his money pouch and approached the booth.

“A trifecta—I’m picking Lotte, Black, and Christmas.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the clerk was writing the ticket, a voice whispered behind him,

“Black and Christmas aren’t in good form today. Replace them with Nickel and Benjamin.”

“Pfft, don’t be ridiculous! Don’t act like you know horses!”

It had been a hobby of his for over ten years.

He’d won big more than once.

Lately, he was just… unlucky.

The Count stubbornly stuck to his picks.

The young gentleman didn’t argue—he simply stepped back and placed his own bet.

“A trifecta, in exact order: Nickel, Benjamin, and Lotte.”

They sat near each other at the track.

The race played out exactly as the gentleman predicted.

Black was slow from the start, and Christmas, who was doing well, dropped to sixth near the end.

“Dammit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

The Count tore up his ticket and snapped at the young man.

“Did you rig the race?!”

“As I said before—it was just luck.”

“You told me to change my picks! If you didn’t know something, how could you guess so precisely?!”

The gentleman stood up.
He was a full head taller than the Count.

“I simply watch a lot of races. I’ve grown skilled at picking winners.”

He calmly brushed dust off the Count’s shoulder and walked away.

The Count stood there, dazed—until he noticed a winning trifecta ticket left behind.

“Sir! Hey, sir!”

But the man had already vanished into the crowd.

Thinking he’d return once he realized he lost the ticket, the Count waited.

But he never came back.

Sweating, the Count wiped his palm on his trousers and agonized.

It’s not mine. Can I really cash it in?

Is this theft?

But as he debated, his feet were already taking him toward the booth.

He reasoned:

It’ll expire by tomorrow anyway. Better to cash it in and return the money if I see him again.

This isn’t theft. Just… safekeeping.

With that, the Count exchanged the ticket for cash.

A massive amount landed in his hands.

His body trembled like his heartbeat was ricocheting through his veins.

Count Montenezzando rushed into his carriage and fled home.