~Chapter 08~
Louis’s eyes lingered on the bruises left on my body before he shifted to fix Diego with a completely impassive stare.
“I could let your insult toward me slide,” he said quietly, “but I cannot overlook your offense against my ancestors—or the harm you tried to bring upon Leonia.”
A white glove struck Diego squarely in the face and fell to the floor. The crowd immediately realized it was a formal challenge, and a commotion erupted.
“…You’re saying you want to duel me?” Diego muttered, disbelief coloring his voice.
“Why? Are you afraid?” Louis’s words were laced with a sharp, mocking tone, and Diego bit his lip.
Louis was, in title only, a knight who had seen battle, while Diego had likely never held a sword properly in his life. Anyone observing, especially the Emperor, would surely be taken aback by the scene unfolding.
Despite Diego’s clear wrongdoing, Louis demanded a duel in accordance with the knightly code rather than meting out immediate justice. If Diego refused, he would have no choice but to submit to whatever punishment Louis later decreed—perhaps even exile.
…Though that was an overly optimistic hope. The Emperor was hardly the type to be easily manipulated.
“…To think such an incident would occur on such a fine day. All of this is due to my own failings.”
As expected, the Emperor held his forehead, lamenting.
“I raised Diego too gently… I pampered him, thinking of my late Lionel, and failed in my duties as a father.”
“…Your Majesty.”
He even brought up his deceased son Lionel, the one legitimate heir he had with the Empress. The atmosphere grew strange, a hollow humor rising in me.
‘Insane.’
Lionel had been the only legitimate son the Emperor had seen in his lifetime, the strongest candidate for succession. Yet, he had died in a carriage accident before even reaching adulthood—an accident orchestrated by none other than the Emperor himself.
At that time, the Crown Prince Lionel perished alongside the Arban Duke and Duchess and Louis’s older brother, Lian Arban. The Emperor needed Lionel out of the way to hand the throne to Diego, the son of the woman he loved. Now he had the audacity to try to sway public opinion with his dead son as an excuse. Truly chilling.
“I will not ask for Diego’s forgiveness; that would be unseemly, even for me,” the Emperor continued.
“However, I cannot ask that the challenge toward a man who has never held a sword be withdrawn.”
When the ruler of an entire empire said such words, most would falter—but not Louis.
He feigned consideration, then spoke:
“I am a knight of this honorable empire, Your Majesty. How could I retract a glove once I have thrown it?”
Even the Emperor seemed unable to press the issue further, caught between protocol and reality.
‘But the situation has already slipped from the Emperor’s control.’
“If the lack of swordsmanship is an issue, I can use a wooden sword while the Marquis uses a real one,” Louis suggested calmly. The Emperor muttered, “That might work…”
This turn of events was problematic. If Louis were to secure a duel at all costs, the Emperor would certainly harbor resentment afterward. Louis didn’t care if he made an enemy of the Emperor—but I couldn’t risk it. I lacked the strength to protect myself.
“Duke Arban!”
At that moment, the Marquis of Branto arrived, face pale. I briefly wondered if his daughter had accompanied him, but she was nowhere in sight. Why had the Marquis come, then?
Before I could question it, he knelt in front of Louis.
“…Marquis Branto?”
“Why—” murmured the onlookers.
“The words and actions of Marquis Rizen were excessive, indeed. But today he has pledged his daughter’s future.”
Louis’s expression remained unreadable.
“If anything were to happen to him, I would have no face to see my daughter again,” the Marquis explained. His daughter, apparently fragile, had been sent home early, and he worried she would be shocked to learn Diego would fight in a duel.
‘So that’s why he sent her away first.’
The daughter I knew was not so weak, yet the Marquis had casually used her to manipulate public opinion.
“If that is insufficient, I will take his place in the duel,” he added. Game over. If Louis fought the aged Marquis, public outrage would be certain.
“This… this puts me in a difficult position,” the Emperor said, no longer involved personally, treating the matter as if watching someone else’s game. No one found this unusual.
With the Branto Marquis now at the center, the duel’s stakes shifted entirely. What had been Diego versus Louis was now the Marquis of Branto versus Louis. The Emperor likely had orchestrated this to save Diego while controlling public perception. The Marquis’s kneeling was surely not a cheap bargain.
“Such matters require careful deliberation; let us move elsewhere to discuss,” the Emperor concluded, comfortably negotiating now that public opinion was aligned. Louis could only accept the course of events. I didn’t need to say anything.
In the end, Diego was given ten days of house confinement. Of course, it was more of the Emperor’s unilateral decision than a negotiation. Diego was scheduled to host visiting envoys in two weeks, so this was a convenient excuse.
Louis remained silent in the carriage, staring out the window, likely thinking along similar lines.
“Duke,” I cautiously called.
My frustration was growing; there were countless things we needed to discuss.
“My name,” Louis interrupted, turning to face me.
“…Call me by name,” he added softly. His deep red eyes, usually mesmerizing, now held a quiet, focused intensity.
I nodded, unable to resist. “…Louis.”
“Good,” he said, smiling with that familiar, slightly twisted expression.
I quickly brought up the main point.
“When should I enter the Duke’s household?”
Louis tilted his head in slight confusion, prompting me to elaborate.
“I want to have the wedding as soon as possible, so we should hurry.”
Staying in the Count’s house served no purpose. Meeting with Louis in secret would be tedious, and heaven forbid he visited unannounced and saw Alice… just the thought made me shiver.
“I cannot promise that any steps will be skipped, but it should not harm the Duke’s household reputation,” he said.
“Reputation only matters when it exists to be tarnished,” I replied. Louis’s usual languid smile twisted slightly, amused at my comment.
“I saw it earlier. Even after insulting the Arban household, the fool ended up locked in your room.”
Still calm, his words were somehow chilling. I quickly shifted the topic before his mood sank further.
“Shall I show you a thing or two he would dislike?”
“Something he would dislike?”
“The man hated anyone touching his belongings.”
It seemed Louis shared the sentiment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Now that I see it, even things already out of his hands seem to vex him the same.”
“So… you mean we practice holding hands in front of Marquis Rizen?” I asked, feigning casualness.
“Nothing to lose,” I said confidently, though I knew he would never take my hand. In the original story, he never even lightly touched Alice without gloves.
“If you want, you can practice beforehand,” I added.
He wouldn’t, of course. Louis remained silent for a moment, and I worried he might be offended by my suggestion. Then he nodded.
“Very well. No harm in that.”
His twisted smile eased my mind.
“You may come to the Duke’s household anytime. The sooner, the better.”
As soon as I received his confirmation, I began planning the next steps in my head. Louis moved closer, sitting beside me.
…What is he doing?
When I blinked in surprise, he rested his head on my shoulder.
“You said to practice,” he murmured.
“….”
“Why are you so tense?”
His relaxed voice brushed along my neck, accompanied by the soft tickle of golden hair and a refreshing, sweet scent that belied the deadly precision he could wield at any moment.
“…Why did you act that way earlier?” I asked, changing the topic, unable to bear the strange intimacy.
If this continued, I would be completely bewitched by him.
