Chapter 9:
Irene was intrigued as well.
She was well aware of Mikhail’s skill, but she didn’t know much about Reinhardt’s.
‘He always avoided using the sword even within the Imperial Palace.’
In the original story, Reinhardt had been portrayed more as a strategist than a swordsman. Irene quietly slipped in among the gathered knights to watch the sparring session.
–Clang!
A sharp, clear clash of metal rang in her ears.
It was a duel with real swords.
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
Even if Mikhail was only fourteen, his swordsmanship was outstanding—on par with seasoned adult knights.
And Reinhardt had chosen to face him with a real blade?
Irene’s curiosity about the prince’s skill only grew stronger.
Reinhardt paused to catch his breath and felt a sharp gaze from somewhere. He turned slightly to find the source.
There, in the crowd, he locked eyes with a pair of striking crimson eyes on a pale, snow-like face.
‘…Irene Lykaon.’
The conversation he’d had with her yesterday flashed through his mind, leaving him unsettled.
He wondered if she was pretending to like him just to cause harm.
‘There’s no way that’s the gaze of someone in love.’
Who looks at someone they like with such a piercing, ominous stare?
Caught off guard by his wandering thoughts, Reinhardt momentarily let his guard down.
And Mikhail wasted no time exploiting the opening.
“….”
A silence fell over the training grounds.
Before anyone realized it, Mikhail’s blade was at Reinhardt’s neck.
Only then did Reinhardt recognize his loss.
“…I lost.”
“Yes, Your Highness, you did.”
Mikhail replied flatly, sheathing his sword, though a faint furrow appeared between his brows.
Reinhardt noticed the subtle expression and smiled apologetically.
There was no way Mikhail hadn’t noticed Reinhardt had been distracted during their bout.
“I’ll take the next match seriously. Don’t stay mad.”
Even a stoic boy like Mikhail showed his emotions when it came to swordsmanship.
Reinhardt glanced at him, then recalled someone else.
‘Irene Lykaon was like that too, yesterday.’
That usually unreadable face had been brimming with life when she trained with her sword.
‘…Is it a Lykaon thing?’
Unconsciously meeting Irene’s eyes again, Reinhardt flinched. Her blood-red gaze was fixed directly on his face.
‘What is with that stare…?’
With slightly hurried steps, he left the training ground—and Irene’s gaze behind.
“Whew.”
It felt like he had just escaped a massive predator.
He sighed, caught between relief and unease. It was… a little scary.
That morning, during brunch.
Irene entered the dining room where the duke was absent.
She calmly sat next to Chloe.
“…Hah.”
Dietrich glared at her as if it were ridiculous but said nothing. A distinguished guest was present—raising his voice would be inappropriate.
‘A black-haired girl among silver-haired nobles…’
Reinhardt thought she stood out in her own way.
He had once dined with Lloyd at the palace—but Lloyd’s table manners were abysmal.
‘You call this food?’
If something didn’t suit his tastes, Lloyd would throw the plate in the chef’s face and then pick a fight with Reinhardt. Reinhardt had preferred to avoid him altogether.
So it had been a long time since Reinhardt had shared a peaceful meal with others.
‘Meals here are… quiet.’
Unlike Lloyd, Irene, despite being born out of wedlock, ate quietly without fuss.
Reinhardt, stealing glances at her, felt oddly uncomfortable and only nibbled on his salad.
Just as dessert was being served, the table’s calm atmosphere was broken.
“Hey, don’t forget about our duel later, just like we agreed.”
At Dietrich’s words, Irene asked,
“Where?”
“Lupus Hill.”
Chloe, lifting a spoonful of lemon sherbet, asked,
“There’s a training ground right outside. Why go so far?”
“Well, everyone’s training here. We can’t get in the way!”
Chloe chuckled knowingly.
‘Since when did you care about the knights’ training?’
Her expression said it all, and Dietrich pouted.
He was stepping in for her sake! The least she could do was help him get revenge—instead, she was ruining everything.
“Then I’ll choose the referee.”
“…What?”
Ignoring Dietrich’s glare, Irene casually glanced toward Reinhardt.
The moment their eyes met, Reinhardt’s brow twitched.
‘Why me?’
Turning back to Dietrich, Irene added,
“I just think a neutral third party would be the fairest judge.”
“Irene.”
Realizing what she was implying, Mikhail narrowed his eyes and called her name coldly.
“If not, I won’t duel.”
With that, Irene put a spoonful of sherbet into her mouth.
“…Your Highness, you can refuse.”
Despite Mikhail’s remark, Reinhardt didn’t immediately decline.
Irene Lykaon.
He had seen her practice yesterday—and her skill was nothing to scoff at.
He was curious. Just a little—what she’d look like when sparring against someone.
The prince’s outing was heavily guarded by imperial knights, prompting murmurs among the locals.
‘All familiar faces.’
Irene observed the procession. Many of them had been high-ranking officers when she’d joined the Imperial Guard.
‘Some of them even betrayed us.’
She spotted a few knights who had defected to Kim Taeheon.
Dietrich’s expression upon arriving at Lupus Hill made it clear he wasn’t happy.
‘He never expected this.’
To Dietrich, who had planned several “accidents,” Reinhardt’s presence was an uninvited disruption. But he couldn’t exactly tell a prince to leave.
On the other hand, Irene’s invitation for Reinhardt to judge had been a gamble.
He didn’t even like her. So why had he accepted?
“Here.”
Dietrich tossed a sword at her.
Irene caught it mid-air with ease.
As expected, a faint crack was visible in the middle of the blade.
Dietrich sneered.
“I even brought your sword for you, so be grateful!”
His face screamed, “I have a plan.”
‘At least try to hide it better.’
With emotions written so clearly on his face, how would he ever become a proper schemer?
Irene shook her head.
Dietrich readied himself and nodded.
“You can make the first move.”
Without hesitation, Irene dashed forward and struck.
–Crack!
‘It won’t last much longer.’
The rigged sword’s crack deepened with each strike, thanks to Dietrich’s cheap trick.
Reinhardt’s brow furrowed.
“Wait a moment.”
He tried to intervene, but Dietrich ignored him and kept attacking Irene—specifically targeting her sword, not her body.
Reinhardt’s expression darkened. He realized Dietrich’s intention.
And so did Irene.
Reinhardt didn’t understand.
‘Why is she pretending not to notice?’
Did she think the crack wouldn’t affect the outcome?
But if the sword broke, she could get seriously hurt.
To Reinhardt, Irene had officially become an incomprehensible person.
“…Hoo.”
Taking a few steps back, Irene caught her breath and looked at the setting sun.
Winter days were short. The sun rose late and set early.
‘It was around this time, wasn’t it…?’
Seeing Irene suddenly stop moving, Dietrich grew nervous.
‘Why the hell does she keep dodging the traps I set?!’
He was furious.
“Hey, crow! Come on and att—!”
–BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A thunderous rumble shook the entire hill. The imperial knights, sensing danger, immediately surrounded Reinhardt.
“Wh-what is that…?!”
One of the knights pointed and went pale.
A massive white creature was approaching.
It was a yeti—the guardian of the Lupus Forest.
