FSTE 10

Chapter 10

Pedro, having just finished his duties, was passing through the courtyard on his way to the barracks of the mansion’s guards.

“Hey, Captain! Wait a moment.”

A cheeky voice called out to him. It was none other than Lian, Isabelle’s pet slave.

“Here, take this.”
“What’s this?”
“What do you mean, what? It’s a wooden sword for training.”
“Of course I know that…”

Pedro couldn’t understand why an item that should have been in the barracks was in this kid’s hands.

He glared at the guards stationed along the corridor surrounding the courtyard. Each of them avoided his gaze.

“Could you spare some of your precious time for me?”

This brat…?
Pedro had expected him to cower after being thoroughly beaten. Yet here he was, actively requesting more training.

“Seems like my teaching wasn’t enough after all.”
“Eh, it’s only been a day. I still have a lot to learn.”

Even though his body was bruised and every movement caused pain, he seemed undeterred. Was it bravado, or sheer grit?

“Get into position.”
“You didn’t teach me that.”
“Then watch carefully and learn from now on.”

Whatever it takes—if one round wasn’t enough, Pedro would beat him until he broke.

Charging at Lian, who awkwardly stood holding the wooden sword, Pedro launched his attack.

“Uwah!”

Though clumsy, Lian managed to dodge the first strike lightly. A beastly natural reflex, indeed.

But he focused only on dodging, leaving many gaps.

Whack!

“Foolish boy. Haven’t you considered what happens if your lower body loses balance?”
“Ugh… I’ll remember that.”

At Pedro’s remark, Lian immediately adjusted his stance and corrected his step, watching Pedro carefully. Usually, most would just ignore it, but…

“You’re ready to learn, indeed.”

Pedro tightened his grip on the wooden sword.
The boy actually wanted to be beaten—fine, he would oblige.

“Today, I’ll carve my sword into your body, mark it for life.”
“Yes, please take care of me.”

That smug, grinning face. Pedro disliked him more than ever.

Lian couldn’t help but recall a character from a movie he’d seen in a previous life.

A bald professor who mercilessly whipped and berated a protagonist striving to be a top-tier drummer. Though the hero’s genius flourished by the end, his humanity was completely destroyed.

Audiences were divided—hating the professor, yet acknowledging his skill at drawing out talent.

Pedro was just like that.

“Ha! A scared little rabbit! Jumping about like that will throw off your upper body balance!”

Yesterday, Lian could barely dodge two consecutive strikes. But adapting Pedro’s critique, he began to adjust his footwork…

Whoosh! Swish! Swoosh!

Third strike, fourth strike, Pedro’s relentless barrage came, and Lian started dodging with minimal movement.

Whack!

Of course, he couldn’t dodge everything. Pedro wouldn’t stop attacking until Lian took a hit.

“Ugh…”
“When did I ever say I’d teach you a dance? Are you holding that wooden sword like it’s a staff?”
“…Sir. We haven’t reached that level yet.”
“Don’t talk back, stand properly, slave.”

Pain flared in his right thigh.

As soon as Lian straightened up, Pedro lunged forward, swinging the wooden sword. Lian twisted clockwise and swung his sword horizontally to block.

This time, his right side took the impact.

Pedro stepped further and dodged Lian’s swing lightly, switching to a thrust targeting Lian’s side.

Panicking, Lian altered the sword’s trajectory to block.

Ah, left side now.

Clang!

The sword blocked Pedro’s thrust, but Lian had tensed too much.

Whack!

Pedro used the rebound to strike his side again.

“Cough! Cough…”

Lian’s face turned pale as he dropped to his knees. This hurt more than any hit he’d received before.

“Planning to chop firewood? That’s a sword, not an axe.”

Yet Pedro’s expression betrayed surprise. Despite the short practice, it was an impressive exchange, enough to make his own spine shiver. He had thrown too much force.

The boy who had been clumsily hopping around and barely dodging now counterattacked properly. And those swings…

“Ha… I thought my ribs were done for that time…”
“Hmph! Don’t exaggerate.”
“Still, that was pretty good, right?”
“Don’t get cocky over one lucky hit. Your neck will be next.”

Pedro radiated murderous intent as if ready to slice his throat.

“Let’s see if it was really luck this time.”

Lian calmed his breath and mimicked Pedro’s stance. Pedro’s frown deepened.

He hadn’t been mindlessly dodging—he had memorized Pedro’s movements through repeated strikes, ensuring he wouldn’t interrupt the flow of attacks while observing.

“Warned you. Get arrogant, and your neck’s gone.”
“You’ve talked enough. Let’s get into position. I’ll watch carefully and learn.”

Lian deliberately echoed Pedro’s words to provoke him.

“You’ll regret saying that.”

Pedro finally showed his full effort—faster, stronger, more complex.

But the more intense Pedro’s attacks became, the faster Lian improved.

Left calf… right arm… right shoulder…

At first, he was just reacting to auditory cues like a rhythm game. But memorizing Pedro’s motions, he began to understand where the attacks would come from.

The sword paths—kenro—started forming in his mind.

Naturally, he could begin to anticipate targets.

Smack!

“Ugh!”
“Captain! Are you okay?”

Pedro’s forehead bled.

“I didn’t expect to hit, so I put all my strength in… Sorry!”
“You…”

Pedro’s face showed more than pain—shame, confusion, and frustration mixed together.

“But that was pretty good, right? Your teaching skills are clearly exceptional.”

Was it mere luck, or a mistake from excitement? How had such a novice landed such a strike?

“Yes. With such great teaching, I must repay the favor.”

Just then, a loud whisper. This time, to the face.

“Truly dangerous. You’d better stop touching the maids…”

Smack!

“You little brat! Where did you—!”

Plop… plop…

Drops of blood fell on the grass. Pedro’s flushed face paled immediately.

“Ah… it hurts…”
“Ah…”

Lian held his nosebleed and raised his head. Pedro’s hand seemed to curl into a smile under his confusion.

One promise was clear:

Do not touch her face. Ever.

Pedro had made a mistake he couldn’t undo.

A healer in a gray robe inspected Lian’s face with a relieved sigh.

“Luckily, your nose isn’t broken. Once the swelling goes down, you’ll be fine.”

Of course. Lian had instinctively tilted his head back to lessen the impact.

“See? It wasn’t too serious.”
“Yeah. Finally I can relax.”

Isabelle also exhaled in relief but still glared at Pedro with a frosty expression.

“Pedro, didn’t I warn you?”
“I have no excuse…”
“Do you know what you did? You tried to scratch the gem I treasure most.”

Pedro lowered his head, blood crusted on his forehead, keeping it hidden from the healer.

“Did you do this to Pedro’s forehead, Lian?”
“Yes. The Captain’s teaching is excellent, so I learned quickly.”
“Your talent helped, too. And now… 300 gold coins feel cheap, don’t they?”

Pedro’s fists trembled. Likely from sheer frustration—Lian got away with a nosebleed, while he received this treatment.

“Well… you’d normally face severe punishment for touching Lian’s face. But since it was minor, I’ll let it slide.”
“…Thank you for your mercy, Isabelle.”
“Six months’ pay cut and permanent removal as Captain. Now leave.”
“Eh? Isabelle?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”

Even Lian was stunned. The punishment was a pay cut and demotion.

“Now go, and call Ruben. He’s been here the longest; he’ll make a suitable next captain.”
“…Understood.”

Pedro rose slowly, looking utterly defeated.

Isabelle spoke again, watching him trudge away.

“Pedro.”
“Yes, Isabelle?”

Had she changed her mind? Pedro’s face brightened slightly in hope.

“Take that off before you go.”
“Ah…”

The red scarf symbolizing the Captain of the Guard.

Hope shattered instantly.

Is she smiling?

Isabelle’s subtle smirk hinted she knew of Pedro’s affairs with the maids. Perhaps she deliberately used Lian to exact revenge.

No need to overcomplicate it.

In this mansion, Isabelle is the law. She could punish Pedro severely if she wanted. Yet she let it play out until now…

What a ridiculous, perverted master this is.

Her flushed, slightly aroused face, her chest rising and falling noticeably, radiating warmth. She took a peculiar thrill in watching someone cross the line and self-destruct.

Thus, her “inaction” was really just letting things mature.

“Lian, come here.”
“…Yes, Isabelle.”
“I’m still not satisfied. Come to my room tonight, okay?”
“Yes, I will.”

Lian, embracing Isabelle after a long time, forced an awkward smile.

A moment that redefined the term femme fatale.

He felt as if his entire body were wrapped in invisible spiderwebs.