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Chapter 41
‘How is that even possible?’
To Dietrion, Ferdin had always seemed lucky. But could everything really be explained away by luck?
During the monster subjugation, and now again during this refugee rescue mission, Ferdin had miraculously managed to accomplish the impossible.
The missions he was given were things no one could reasonably solve, and yet… he did.
Dietrion did not like that fact.
‘Filthy bastard.’
With this successful mission, Ferdin’s position had risen once again. And that was not what Dietrion wanted.
So… what he was doing to Erin now was nothing more than venting. Venting his anger at Ferdin for succeeding at a ridiculous mission.
‘I’m curious to see how Erin Lysus will act.’
With that thought, Dietrion looked at her.
Indeed, she stood much prouder than before.
The pitiful little girl who once cowered under Corellia’s whip had grown into someone so beautiful it shocked even him. It was enough for him to understand why Ferdin treasured her.
When he had first heard they were engaged, Dietrion hadn’t thought much of it. He simply assumed it was another one of his father’s whims.
The filthy-blooded Ferdin, and the pathetic Erin Lysus.
‘A well-matched pair.’
That was all the thought he had given it.
But seeing how Erin had changed now unsettled him.
It wasn’t that he disliked it. On the contrary, her new appearance amused him.
“Is it because you’re engaged to Ferdin? …Your eyes look just like his.”
“……”
“Interesting. What do you say? Want to break your engagement with him and come to me instead?”
Of course, he didn’t mean it. He had no intention of marrying Erin.
But he never thought she would outright reject him.
He knew how starved she had always been for affection. Surely, she’d be flustered. After all, she used to struggle even to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
This was the same girl who once trembled at his insults, fiddling her fingers like a frightened child.
But now, instead of cowering, Erin slipped her wrist free from his grip—gracefully, as if brushing off a child’s hand.
The smile on Dietrion’s face cracked ever so slightly.
He had not intended to let her go. He had been gripping tightly. Yet she had pulled free so easily.
Dietrion lowered his gaze to his empty hand, feeling oddly hollow.
“Your Highness, Dietrion.”
Startled from his thoughts, he lifted his head. Erin stared up at him with cold, emotionless eyes.
“Even if I were to break my engagement with Prince Ferdin, I would never come to you.”
Her voice was firm and resolute.
“…Ha.”
Dietrion burst out laughing, as if it were the funniest thing he’d heard in years. He laughed until tears welled in his eyes.
Erin frowned and stepped back from him, and Dietrion tilted his head.
“What could you possibly do? Do you think being engaged to Ferdin changes anything? He probably finds the very thought of marrying you detestable.”
“……”
“Actually, it’s a pity. Because of this engagement, Ferdin’s worth has dropped even further.”
“……”
“All you have to do is obey, Erin. That’s what Corellia taught you, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”
He stepped closer, reaching his hand toward her.
“Go on then, try to resist. Let’s see how that turns out.”
But just before his hand touched her, someone seized his wrist.
Who dared?
Had it been an ordinary person, his hidden knights would’ve beheaded them before they even got close.
Dietrion’s face twisted with rage as he turned toward the man who had stopped him.
The first thing he saw was an annoyingly handsome face.
The sight of it made his stomach churn.
Dietrion spat his name out like venom.
“Ferdin Lexia…!”
Ferdin had arrived.
Erin let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.
If he hadn’t shown up, she might have given in to Dietrion’s provocation—and all her efforts until now would have been wasted.
Ferdin stepped between her and Dietrion, shielding her.
Still recovering from wounds sustained during the wolf-tribe subjugation, his breath was rough and uneven.
“Let go.”
Dietrion yanked his arm free of Ferdin’s grasp.
“It’s been a while, Ferdin.”
He held out his hand, and one of his knights—who had appeared silently—handed him a handkerchief.
Behind Ferdin, Amon stiffened when he saw the knight. He hadn’t even sensed him there until now.
That only meant one thing: this knight was far too powerful for Amon to even register.
As expected of the Imperial Crown Prince’s knights.
Ferdin’s academy-trained knights-in-preparation could not possibly stand against them.
Amon glared at Dietrion.
‘What a twisted bastard.’
It was obvious—Dietrion had deliberately ordered Erin, a mere academy student, to duel one of his high-ranking knights.
He didn’t care about her dignity in the slightest.
Dietrion scrubbed his arm harshly with the handkerchief, as though wiping off filth.
The sight made Amon’s expression harden further.
“Do you have business with Lady Erin?” Ferdin asked coldly.
“As a prince of this Empire, I merely wished to witness the skill of a talented academy student for myself.”
“Lady Erin already has an appointment with me.”
Dietrion’s eyes flicked around. He could feel the curious gazes of the academy students on them.
He didn’t like it, but for now, he had to back down.
Ferdin’s reputation, after saving the refugees, was far too high. Showing open hostility here would not be wise.
His gaze returned to Erin. Her expression had been cold when looking at him, but the moment she looked at Ferdin, she grew restless, flustered.
‘She cares more about that bastard than me?’
It grated on him.
Erin was nothing more than a piece on his chessboard. Ferdin too. Whatever they did should’ve been laughable.
But her changed demeanor gnawed at him in ways he couldn’t understand.
Ferdin shielded Erin behind him, eyes wary of Dietrion.
Dietrion stepped up beside him, leaning close to whisper in his ear while keeping his gaze fixed on Erin.
“I hear you’ve grown rather fond of Erin Lysus, Ferdin. Don’t tell me… you’ve fallen in love?”
“……”
“You know what happens whenever you start to care for something, don’t you? Surely you haven’t forgotten.”
Ferdin clenched his jaw hard.
“Do not insult her.”
His eyes burned red with fury. He could endure insults aimed at himself, but not toward those around him.
“I had no interest before… but now, I’ve changed my mind.”
“If you touch her, I will not stand by.”
“That sounds entertaining. Shall we wager on it? Which of us will claim Erin Lysus in the end?”
Dietrion’s gaze never left Erin.
‘So, was it really true? That she was chosen by the sword…?’
Looking at how much she had changed, he finally understood why his father had tried to suppress House Lysus—why he sought to find the chosen one of the sword and crush their talent before killing them.
Dietrion’s eyes gleamed with intrigue.
It’s fine. Erin was a Sword Master.
Ferdin reminded himself of that as he took her by the wrist and led her away.
No matter how Dietrion tried to harass her, he couldn’t possibly defeat a Sword Master.
But… the Emperor had two Sword Masters at his side: Count Leon, and Marquis Erman.
‘If the two of them attacked her together…?’
He forced himself to consider the worst-case scenario. Even knowing how absurd it sounded, he couldn’t stop his thoughts.
‘Would Dietrion really dare lay hands on the daughter of House Lysus? But then again… is the Marquis of Lysus truly on her side?’
His face grew cold at the thought.
“Sir Ferdin.”
Her voice snapped him out of it. He blinked and realized he had already brought her all the way to his office.
