FPML 57

Chapter 57

“Ah…”

A flashy mark, he said. Thank goodness it only looked like a mark. Marien suddenly felt embarrassed about the doodle she’d made next to contestant number three.

If she’d known it would come up, she’d have asked for a scrap of paper and scribbled there instead.

“I chose number three as my first place. I’d be grateful if the aide agreed with me.”

Marien glanced at the lightning-shaped doodle again before replying, a beat late.

“Ah, you’re giving him first place?”

“The way he played the violin so delicately with those large hands really struck me. And besides…”

“It was that final smile that sealed it.”

The man with the mustache cut in.

“That’s what you were about to say, wasn’t it?”

“He didn’t smile once throughout the entire contest, and then smiled only that one time at the end. Whew, that’s cheating, you know.”

The female judge smiled as though she’d just witnessed the world’s most delightful form of cheating.

Yes, I saw that smile too.

When that faint, almost imperceptible smile brushed his lips, contestant number three’s entire impression had changed.

He’d look so much better if he smiled more often.

Marien’s eyes dropped again to the lightning doodle. It looked like lightning, but it actually represented a scar.

She recalled the performance in the rain.

As number three’s turn approached, Marien found herself growing inexplicably tense. She twirled her pen between her fingers and quickly stopped before the judge next to her could notice.

Finally, it was number three’s turn. He swept back his brown hair that had fallen over his forehead as he stepped onstage.

Why did a simple instrument seller have to be that well-built? From head to toe, Varel Evergreen was perfect.

He had no connection whatsoever to the northern lands — and yet somehow, he irritated her. Marien found her gaze fixed on the raindrops sliding down the line of his jaw.

Kaien’s back had been covered in scars.

Would number three’s back also be full of those rough, healed marks?

As though reading her mind, number three turned his back to them. Slowly, one by one, he unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his back amid the crowd’s roar.

His back was spotless.

Marien drew an “X” beside the countless scars she’d sketched next to his name.

What was I even thinking?

Number three glanced over his shoulder toward the judges’ table. His eyes brushed against Marien’s. She suddenly felt a strange urge not to lose and met his gaze head-on.

“Ahem.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped her back to reality.

The mustached man said that while number three was impressive, his vote went to number eleven — the contestant who had slipped on the slippery stage earlier.

“He had great audience support from the moment he appeared. And during the talent portion, he completely owned the stage.”

The man with glasses chimed in, “He’d be very popular among the noble ladies at a royal ball.”

What a diplomatic way to say, He looks more like a well-fed servant than a prince on a white horse.

Marien realized this man’s verbal finesse was nothing to scoff at.

“Hearing you say that, I’m leaning toward number eleven myself…”

The female judge tapped her pen lightly on the score sheet.

“I rated him highly too.”

“How about we make eleven first place and three second?”

“Then third place would be that contestant? Wait, what was their name again…?”

The judges discussed their opinions back and forth. Marien simply slid her score sheet toward them.

“Let me know when you’ve decided.”

It wasn’t negligence — she was confident that whoever they sent to the Imperial Palace among the twenty-five contestants, she wouldn’t be ashamed of the choice. They were all outstanding.

The Empire’s future looks bright.

She quietly thought about their ages.

Let’s make sure there’s no war.

From the sound of the conversation, it seemed clear that number three and number eleven would take the top spots.

Another black-haired one at first place?

Another brown-haired one second?

The familiar pattern felt uncomfortably predictable.

But in truth, number eleven’s looks, skill, and ability to recover from mistakes were all flawless. Though black-haired, he didn’t look down on the world the way northerners did.

Still, something about Varel Evergreen bothers me.

He had the strangest aura of any brown-haired man she’d ever met.

“So this is the final decision?” the mustached man asked. Marien nodded.

◇ ◆ ◇

The Second Prince’s faction left early amid applause. The top three winners went to prepare for the parade. When the audience had mostly dispersed, Marien turned to the other judges.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

Her official duties as a special judge ended there.

The other judges expressed their thanks.

“Thanks to you, we finished today’s competition safely. We’re very grateful.”

“If it’s all right with you, could we invite you to judge again next time?”

Relieved that the big event was over, Marien was in an exceptionally good mood. She laughed brightly.

“Call me only for the handsome men contests!”

Watching beautiful women was fun, sure, but the Empire should really offer more chances for handsome men appreciation, she thought.

That conviction only grew stronger throughout the event.

The female judge smiled.

“The response this time was so good, we were already talking about alternating — beauty contests for men and women in turn.”

Marien smiled in satisfaction and bowed once more.

Work — done!

Now it was time to hurry to her beloved. Humming cheerfully, she gathered her things. Then suddenly, a shadow fell over her.

“Judge Marien Didi?”

She looked up. Standing there, towering over her, was Varel Evergreen — who should’ve been preparing for the parade. Her nose twitched automatically.

No — there was no scent of cold winter snow about him.

“Um, what is it?”

“May I see the score sheet?”

He asked abruptly. He hadn’t seemed like someone obsessed with rankings, but maybe she’d misjudged him. She assumed he was here to complain.

“I could show you, but it’s not my fault you didn’t win first. The two male judges strongly pushed for contestant eleven…”

Varel cut her off.

“And you, Judge Didi? What about your vote?”

So impatient, she thought, frowning slightly.

“You’d better hurry — the parade will start soon.”

“I withdrew.”

“What?”

“I said, I withdrew.”

Marien blinked, thinking she’d misheard.

“You withdrew?”

“Yes. So the third-place contestant automatically moved up to second, and the next-highest scorer took the third carriage. Don’t worry about the parade.”

He extended his hand.

“Let me see your score sheet.”

“Such disregard for others… feels oddly familiar,” she muttered, looking him up and down.

“But why do you want to see it?”

“I want to know how you scored me.”

“And if I gave you a terrible score?”

“Then I wouldn’t have made it to second place.”

Marien folded her arms. Oh, look at that. Getting casual now, are we?

“Actually, I don’t have it. They already collected all the sheets — they’ll probably keep them as official records.”

If he wanted to see it, he could file a formal request.

But Varel didn’t wait that long.

“I don’t care about anyone else’s scores. Just tell me what you, Marien Didi, gave me.”

“Zero. Why?”

Marien scowled. Varel stepped closer, clearly unimpressed by her sarcasm. When things didn’t go his way, he used his build to intimidate — another familiar habit.

“Don’t joke. Tell me the real number.”

“I said zero! Though honestly, now I regret not being able to give negative points.”

“Judge Marien Didi.”

His low, growling tone made her eyes narrow.

“Eighty-four points! Happy now?”

“…Only eighty-four?”

Varel frowned, as if he’d never received such a mediocre score in his life.

Marien’s suspicion deepened.

“What do you mean, ‘only’? That’s generous! You played violin beautifully despite your size. You didn’t say anything rude. So I gave you high marks for manners and talent.”

Did he think she’d back down under pressure? Not a chance. She straightened proudly.

“Now that I think about it, your mouth is your real problem. If you hadn’t been so quiet during the contest, I wouldn’t have given you that much.”

“You seemed to talk just fine with Viers.”

His tone suddenly changed.

How does he know I spoke with Vairleon? She had no time to ask.

Varel raised a hand to his neck — and in an instant, peeled off his face.

A sickening, tearing sound filled the air.

Marien froze, horrified by the urban-legend-like scene unfolding before her.

But what shocked her even more — was the face beneath.

Brown hair, brown eyes… but it was unmistakably Kaien Blackwood.

“What the—”

Marien instinctively stepped back.

“How—no, why are you at the Imperial Flower Contest?! Who is Varel Evergreen—was he even real?”

Then she gasped, covering her mouth.

“You killed him!”

Kaien gave a hollow laugh, as though it wasn’t worth responding.

“You did, didn’t you? You killed him and stole his ID!”

“You and your wild imagination,” Kaien sighed.

He said he’d only borrowed Varel’s identity — no one had died. That was at least a relief, but Marien still couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“Why disguise yourself just to enter the Imperial Flower Contest?”

Had his secret childhood dream always been to win the title of Most Handsome Man in the Empire? Marien didn’t want to admit it, but if that were true, Kaien Blackwood already had that reputation in spades.

“If I’d entered as myself, what score would you have given me?”

“What does it matter? Zero. You’d be lucky just to not be disqualified.”

“But today you gave me eighty-four.”

Marien’s patience was wearing thin.

“What are you even trying to say?”

“You don’t actually hate me. The hostility you show me is just your prejudice — against black-haired northerners.”

“What utter nonsense…”

“Defiant Marien Didi,” Kaien hissed, his eyes glinting with madness. “I’ll break you.”

Disguised or not, the insanity never left him. His gaze burned.

“No woman’s ever humiliated me like this before.”

The words were so cliché Marien almost laughed out loud.

“I’ll make you admit it — that you hate me, but you can’t help liking me too.”