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CHAPTER 10
“I… I don’t have a sword.”
Ilena blinked. Her eyes seemed to ask, “You want me to do this with a branch?”
The young master glanced at the fallen twig on the ground, then back at her. Under his gaze, she quickly picked it up.
“It’s not easy to block someone stronger than you head-on.”
“Yes.”
Ilena stepped forward lightly, letting her strength flow out as she slipped along the edge of his blade. Meanwhile, he waited for her to come deeper in, then used her momentum to deflect her strike.
“You’ve learned basic footwork, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then take your stance.”
Ilena’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of learning a new technique.
Right, her identity was nothing special—just a simple noble daughter from a viscount’s family! A perfectly ordinary girl who just happened to become a Sword Master! It wasn’t like she had asked to be taught; he had offered first, so there was no problem!
“When you swing a sword, your left or right foot naturally leads depending on the direction of the strike.”
Karl demonstrated lightly with a motion of his hand.
“If you’re moving deeper into your opponent, it’s better to put your right foot forward.”
As he shifted his stance, he naturally stepped closer to Ilena. In his hand was another long branch.
“And when your opponent pushes in with strength—”
With those words, Karl closed the distance between them. A cool, refreshing scent suddenly swept over her.
Startled by the scent filling her surroundings, Ilena instinctively stepped back for a moment—almost thinking he had released poison into the air.
“You must not step back.”
Karl immediately corrected her movement, mistaking it for retreat.
Why does he smell so good?
Ilena stole a glance at his face, her cheeks faintly warming. It was a scent she had never noticed from other nobles or knights. Do all high-ranking nobles smell like this? She subconsciously wrinkled her nose.
She even tried to recall—did he smell like this during the earlier training observation?
Meanwhile, Karl, who had come to test her identity, was now deeply troubled by the maid constantly sniffing the air while he explained sword techniques.
There’s no way I smell strange.
Yet her subtle nose scrunching and slightly stiff expression bothered him.
He even wondered if she might have noticed the poison being placed on his bed—something he had already chosen to ignore. Perhaps she simply had an unusually sharp sense of smell.
Karl felt wronged. He was confident his own scent was far more pleasant than any unknown poison.
…I’m going insane.
Ilena, meanwhile, was also struggling. Standing so close, the young master’s scent was distracting her. His cold expression wasn’t her type, but the scent itself was oddly refreshing. Occasionally, she could even detect a faint trace of the scent from Marie mixed in.
So they know but are ignoring it?
Ilena quickly shut down the thought. Whether Marie was seducing the young master or coating herself in something strange—it didn’t matter right now. Focus on the sword.
“Ah—”
Her eyes sharpened. Direct instruction made things much clearer.
“Come in deeper. The fastest way to understand is to experience it.”
At Karl’s words, Ilena let out a short laugh and stepped forward without hesitation. Once again, that cool scent filled her senses.
Mixed within it was Marie’s slightly unpleasant, sugary scent—the kind she used while batting her eyes at men every day. Ilena frowned without realizing it, tightening her grip on the branch.
Karl observed her and twisted his body slightly, deflecting her strike exactly as he had demonstrated. The branch in Ilena’s hand wavered.
“If this were a real sword, it would have been knocked away.”
“Yes, I think so.”
A real sparring session would make this technique immediately usable. Ilena revised her impression of the young master upward—unexpectedly considerate.
“Can you follow along?”
“Somewhat?”
She nodded, took her stance, and Karl slowed his movements so she could keep up. Ilena mirrored him as closely as she could.
Her movements are better than I expected. And her comprehension is fast.
Karl observed her with interest. She even seemed to replay each motion in her mind afterward, her fingers twitching slightly.
The technique he had shown was not something a person with only a month of sword training should be able to follow. As expected of someone recommended by Ruin.
Should I act a bit more friendly?
Karl relaxed his usual cold expression and switched to a more approachable smile.
“If you ever have questions in the future, feel free to ask.”
“Is that okay?”
Hooked immediately, Ilena accepted without hesitation. She couldn’t think clearly when it came to swordsmanship.
She didn’t even notice Karl’s smile or the faint amusement behind it.
“Of course.”
Karl also considered offering to personally supervise her training more often.
“Ilena! Ilena!”
At that moment, a servant called from inside the annex. While Ilena turned toward the voice, Karl disappeared without a trace.
“…He’s really fast.”
Impressed, Ilena headed inside.
After that day, she never met the young master again for sword lessons.
Ilena became busy managing the annex and enjoying her relatively peaceful life, while Karl was buried in work. As a young duke’s heir, he should have been handling only moderate duties—but the Emperor constantly used the ducal house’s capabilities while keeping them under scrutiny.
And so, days passed for both of them.
Knock.
Knock knock.
In the quiet dawn, the sound at the bedroom door slowly woke Karl.
Guards should have been stationed outside—but he couldn’t sense any of them.
Karl quietly slid his hand under the pillow and checked the hidden sword.
…Haa.
His rare sleep had been interrupted. He lay still, calming his breath.
Another assassination attempt from the Empress. Even though he made it obvious he had no interest in the throne, she still seemed obsessed with eliminating him.
Knock.
Another knock.
Robin would normally enter without hesitation. His personal attendant would call out if there was no answer. No one who followed proper etiquette would approach his room like this.
And maids certainly wouldn’t come at this hour.
So it really was an assassin.
…But why aren’t they coming in?
Before Karl could decide whether to get up, the door finally opened.
Click.
Yet there was no sound of footsteps.
“Handsome young master. Are you asleep?”
“…Tch. Crazy.”
Karl clicked his tongue openly.
Standing there was a tall woman in tight black assassin clothing that revealed every curve of her body.
It was Marie—the maid assigned to his room.
“Were you frowning at my body just now?”
Marie smiled sweetly, completely shameless, as she showed herself off.
Karl sighed.
He had never expected that Marie—who had worked in the ducal household for over five years—was actually poisoning his bed.
“How disappointing. I thought the poison I prepared for years would please you. If not poison… how about me?”
“I thought you were just flirting with servants, not aiming at me too.”
Marie walked lightly toward his bed.
“Is it because you’re a Sword Master that poison doesn’t work? I’ve been poisoning your pillow every day, yet you still live.”
“The poison just didn’t taste good.”
“Oh? Then what about the poison I placed on the study door handle?”
“You really are persistent, even knowing it won’t kill me.”
Karl rose from the bed. Marie’s eyes slowly traced his body—his chest muscles visible beneath his loosened sleepwear, his broad shoulders, his perfect inverted triangle build.
Five years of effort, and she had never even managed to cut a strand of his hair.
She wondered how she could kill him so that people would remember it. It would be nice if this handsome man cried beneath her.
Smiling faintly, she drew twin daggers.
“Let’s make this fun, shall we?”
At that moment—
“Enough nonsense.”
In a single motion, Karl deflected the daggers, grabbed her wrist, and slammed her into the wall.
“You won’t die easily. Interrupting my sleep carries a heavy price. And boring me… an even heavier one.”
His cold verdict fell like a hammer.
From his body radiated overwhelming pressure.
Marie, momentarily stunned by his beauty and presence, forgot the situation entirely.
