Chapter 103
The former sweet potato, now a plant, didn’t grow its roots like before to split the land, but instead, like when it wrapped around Boris, it grew soft and flexible roots, spreading like water.
Because of that, my room’s floor got completely filled with its roots. My three attendants saw it and caused a fuss, but thanks to Winter, we managed to keep it secret from the rest of the Imperial Palace.
During that time, I searched for Oscar and confirmed again that there was an error in his distorted memory.
“Now that the plant finished growing, I think Shuran has gotten a little bigger,” Winter said.
He was right. The former sweet potato, which used to be the size of my forearm, had grown about two fingers longer. It was a small change, but considering it hadn’t even been a month since it was born, it was noticeable.
“Still, we can’t name it ‘Shuran’! We can’t name a child after a sweet potato!”
“But Izana, since it doesn’t have a name yet, you keep calling it ‘sweet potato’. It might actually think that’s its name.”
I looked at the plant, now peacefully sleeping. When I gently tickled its chin, it looked happy. The heart-shaped leaf on its head twirled around in joy.
“No way. I’m still thinking about the perfect name. Once I find it, I’ll name it then.”
I turned away firmly, and Winter didn’t try to argue further. We didn’t have time to waste anyway.
The promised sparring match was approaching.
As I walked in the direction Oscar had gone, I said,
“I think Oscar noticed something was wrong with his memory. Do you think this will really bring back the real one?”
Winter nodded.
“When he stops denying the distorted memory and accepts it, his real memory will return.”
I wondered how Oscar would react when his memory returned.
‘Why did Count Bluebell do something like that…?’
Because of his mistake, the relationship between the three of them became a mess. Maybe he even messed up their personalities while they were still young.
It made me think — the flap of a butterfly’s wings really can cause a storm.
“Count Bluebell and Josef Rohia are here at the palace. I think they’re planning to watch the duel.”
I nodded at Winter’s words.
“…Shall we go too?”
As soon as I said that, I was lifted off the ground.
Before I knew it, I was in Winter’s arms again, like a princess being carried. And the former sweet potato was in my arms.
“Your face is pale. You should rest and not move much.”
I was tired from lack of sleep and still dizzy from coughing up blood earlier.
Normally, I would have protested more, but I was so exhausted today that I just relaxed in his arms.
“Thank you…”
As if to cheer me up, the plant softly touched my cheek with the leaf on its head.
But then—
“Duke—wait!”
I take it back. Not thankful!
“Put me down, Duke! Put me down now!”
Winter ignored my kicking and calmly walked into the indoor arena.
“Oh my god…”
“Isn’t that Igrio…? Am I seeing this right?”
“So the rumor was true?”
“What rumor?”
“That Duke Winter Orshas proposed to Miss Monica in front of the Emperor… and His Majesty got angry and kicked him out.”
“Wait a minute. Is that really Igrio? He looks nothing like the rumors!”
The arena was packed with people.
The palace had already been chaotic because of me, and now with the successors of Rohia and Tradi causing trouble, the nobles had come for the drama.
‘Great. This is a disaster.’
Far off, I saw the Emperor, leaning back on his throne with a smug look. He suddenly stood up.
The Duchess of Tradi dropped her fan in shock. Yudis’s mouth fell open. Even Oscar and Boris, who were preparing for the duel, looked completely stunned.
“…Are you punishing me for what happened this morning?”
I mumbled like a ventriloquist, and Winter replied,
“I wouldn’t call this a punishment. Besides, I’d never dare to punish you.”
“Then put me down, Duke!”
“Duke? Who’s that?”
Winter feigned innocence.
Ah, so this is how you’re going to play it, Baron Illin?
“…Daughter.”
I heard the Emperor grind his teeth.
When I turned my head, he was standing right in front of us, glaring.
His eyebrows were raised sharply. Yep, he was clearly angry.
“I tripped while running… twisted my ankle…”
Why are people acting like this?!
The Emperor snatched me from Winter’s arms—not to put me down, but to hold me himself as he walked back to his seat.
There was a golden, small chair beside him, obviously prepared for me…
But I was still on his lap, and I knew asking to get down would be useless.
“Quiet, everyone,” the Emperor said coldly.
The noisy room quickly fell silent.
“Are both of you ready?”
At the Emperor’s question, Oscar and Boris, who had been staring this way, showed determination in their eyes.
But not with the same fire as before. Oscar’s gaze was unsteady like he was trying to shake something off.
‘He really doesn’t look well.’
Boris looked even worse. His face was flushed, clearly still sick. But he still picked up his sword and took a stance — his fighting spirit burning wildly.
The Emperor smiled faintly.
“Good. Then the moment the clock strikes exactly, go wild.”
Just a few seconds were left.
Oscar also raised his sword slowly.
DING—DING—
The clock began to chime, and in the blink of an eye, silver flashes burst from both of them.
***
Flashback – Distorted Memory
CLANG—
The swords clashed in the middle.
Oscar wasn’t dominating as he had claimed he would.
There was one reason:
Oscar’s memory…
—“Oscar, I thought you’d come faster. You’re late…”
—“Josef… it’s not you, right?”
—“Hmm?”
—“Something’s wrong with my memory. It feels weird. It’s not you, right?”
Josef never said “No.”
—“Who could it be? Oh, I think I know. This is fun.”
—“Just answer! It’s not you, right?”
—“We’re almost there, Oscar. But if you want the answer… you’ll have to suffer a little more.”
Now Josef was watching the match from the VIP seats with Count Bluebell.
Oscar’s grip on his sword tightened.
Boris swung his sword. It lacked finesse, but his attacks had no hesitation and were scarily sharp.
CLANG—
Their swords clashed again. Oscar spoke.
“Hey.”
Boris flinched slightly but then pushed Oscar away with brute strength and slashed across.
CLANG—
There was an opening—but Oscar chose to defend again.
“Hey!”
“…The hell’s your problem?! Why are you talking in the middle of a duel?!”
Oscar glared at Boris.
“Don’t you think your memory’s weird too?”
“What?”
“The day Love’s leg got broken. Doesn’t your memory seem off?”
“What nonsense?!”
Oscar exposed a weak spot this time. Boris didn’t miss it.
“Ugh!”
It was another reckless attack, but the powerful strike grazed Oscar’s side. He barely avoided it but clenched his teeth.
Then Oscar faked a sword thrust, tricked Boris, and punched him in the stomach.
“Cough! Hey! What the hell?! You forget this is a sword duel?!”
Boris looked clearly unwell today.
He stumbled back holding his stomach and yelled angrily, but Oscar quickly pushed forward again.
CLANG—
“You used to say it was just a dream… You still think that?”
“What nonsense?! You’re the one who said that! You woke me up and told me that!”
Oscar felt Boris’s sword shaking.
Anger, pain, confusion—they all swirled in Boris’s eyes.
Was it really not you?
Did you really not do it?
Oscar’s hand trembled too.
“One last time. I’m asking you.”
“Piss off!”
“…Why did you do it?”
Oscar desperately hoped Boris would give him any reason.
If he did, Oscar would accept it and break his leg right here.
But…
Today was not Oscar’s day.
His life had always gone the way he wanted, but not today.
“I don’t know! I’ve told you so many times—damn it!”
Tears of frustration welled up in Boris’s eyes.
“I don’t know why I did it… why I broke Love’s leg… I just don’t know!”
As that shout of despair rang out—
“Ugh…”
Oscar dropped his sword and collapsed. A sharp, painful sound rang in his ears, and it felt like his brain was being pierced.
Flashback (Restored Memory)
—“Oscar, are you looking for Love?”
—“Ah, Josef. She’s not eating, and I don’t know where she went.”
—“I know where she is. Want to follow me?”
Finally, everything started to return to its rightful place.
