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Chapter 13
Clang, clang!
The clear sound of steel striking steel filled the training yard.
At its center, Deus and Chandler faced each other, blades locked as they trained in swordsmanship.
“Your Grace, there are too many thoughts in the tip of your sword.”
Chandler spoke as their blades pressed together in a tight clash. Deus kept his mouth shut and forcefully pushed Chandler’s sword back.
But Chandler did not yield. Instead, he smoothly redirected Deus’s blade aside.
“Swordsmanship is not just about strength. Sometimes you must learn to use your opponent’s force against them.”
Deus frowned and stepped back. Chandler watched him quietly. He looked like he had more to say.
“Your Grace. Now doesn’t seem like the time for sparring.”
“Draw your sword.”
At Deus’s firm command, Chandler had no choice but to ready his stance again. It felt uncomfortably like he was being used as an outlet for frustration. Still, unable to hold back, he cautiously asked:
“Your Grace… you’re not venting your anger on me, are you?”
Instead of an answer, a sharp blade came at him.
Chandler clicked his tongue inwardly. Why did bad premonitions always turn out to be right?
“What do you think?”
Deus asked in a low voice as their swords clashed repeatedly. Chandler immediately understood what he was really asking.
After a brief pause, he spoke.
“Well, at first, she might have just saved you because you were a child. And she might not have any feelings toward you at all.”
Deus’s sword visibly wavered.
Chandler sighed and forcefully knocked it aside.
In the end, Deus dropped his sword and rubbed his face hard.
“Is there really no hope at all?”
Chandler looked at him awkwardly. It wasn’t as if he knew every detail of Deus’s memories. How was he supposed to answer that?
“If it doesn’t work out, you could always form new connections.”
“Still.”
“At least it’s fortunate she doesn’t remember your weaker, younger self.”
“Still.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘still’? There’s only one answer, Your Grace.”
Deus fell silent, lips tightly shut. It was frustrating—like he was expecting a specific answer.
Chandler shook his head slightly.
At that moment, hurried footsteps approached.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!”
The head butler was rushing over, clearly agitated.
Chandler glanced at Deus, but his expression remained unreadable.
“Your Grace….”
“Colin, what is it?”
Deus ignored Chandler and addressed the butler.
It was a familiar dismissal. Chandler exhaled sharply in frustration.
“Your Grace… we finally obtained an invitation to that place you mentioned before!”
“What is this about?”
Chandler frowned, hearing something he didn’t understand.
As knight commander, he was supposed to know everything about the Duke’s movements. But Deus always kept things from him.
It was humiliating—being the commander yet kept in the dark.
“A tea party? No, you wouldn’t need an invitation for the imperial palace… so it must be somewhere less proper?”
His tone turned cold. Colin stiffened between them, visibly anxious.
“Colin, where is the invitation?”
Deus asked calmly, as if unaware of the tension.
Colin quickly pulled a jet-black envelope from his inner pocket.
“T-this is it.”
Chandler snatched it before anyone else could.
Gold lettering was written on it:
“To My Bluebird.”
Chandler’s expression darkened.
“Are you planning to go to the black market?”
Deus sighed lightly and took the envelope back.
“It’s an auction house.”
“That’s practically the same thing!”
Chandler’s voice rose sharply, startling Colin.
Deus glanced at Colin, and the butler quickly retreated with a bow.
“Chandler. Must you do this so openly, with so many watching?”
“That’s what I want to ask you. Why do you never consult me before doing something?”
“I am not in a position where I must consult you on every minor matter.”
“Then at least matters concerning your safety should involve me.”
His tone was unexpectedly firm.
Deus looked taken aback.
“Like when you brought in Miss Emma, and now this. Why do I only find out after everything is already decided?”
“Chandler.”
“I swore to be your sword. I thought accepting that oath meant you trusted and relied on me. But now… I don’t even know who I made that oath to.”
Deus said nothing, only looking at him.
Chandler let out a bitter smile.
“I think I’ll use that vacation you mentioned.”
“…Chandler.”
Deus called his name after a long pause.
But Chandler did not respond.
He gave a formal bow and turned away.
No hesitation. No lingering.
“…This has gotten complicated.”
Deus’s quiet murmur echoed in the empty training yard.
* * *
“Em—no, Mari. Do I really have to wear something like this?”
Deus stared at the ornate mask in his hand in disbelief.
Aside from imperial balls, he had never attended a masquerade.
So something like this—covered in feathers—was completely unfamiliar.
“Of course! Know it, pretend you don’t. Don’t know it, pretend you do! That’s the rule here.”
Emma whispered quickly behind a fan.
Her blue mask shimmered with dangling white pearls.
Deus looked at her, slightly dazed.
Her eyes were far more serious than anyone else’s present.
“You were the one who suggested this, remember? So hurry and put it on.”
Emma quickly corrected herself mid-sentence—almost saying “Your Grace”—and pressed a silver mask toward him.
It was so striking it would draw attention from afar.
“This kind of thing seems like it draws more attention, not less.”
“You’re suspiciously cautious. You’ll change your mind once you’re inside.”
Emma smiled lightly.
She took his arm.
“Shall we go?”
“Ah, wait—”
Deus quickly pulled his arm away. Emma looked startled.
He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out white gloves.
“Before linking arms…”
“Ah—right! Yes, of course. I almost forgot. You have that… particular preference. Yes, yes, of course.”
Emma happily accepted the gloves.
There were many rumors about Deus. One of them was that he could not tolerate physical contact with women.
It was half true.
It wasn’t impossible—but he disliked it.
And he had decided to use that rumor to his advantage.
“Shall we go for real now?”
Their roles reversed, they entered the dark building.
After a strict invitation check, Deus stepped inside and had to hold back his breath.
The tiered seating resembled a theater, filled with all kinds of masked figures.
Some were as flamboyant as peacocks, others as sleek as black panthers.
It felt like another world entirely.
Deus’s eyes widened.
Emma quietly pulled him forward.
“Our seats are this way.”
Seat number 30.
And at that moment—
“Hiiik! Th-there!”
“Oh my, look at them. Don’t be so shocked. You’d think even the Emperor had arrived—! Oh!”
Whispers spread rapidly through the crowd.
Emma sighed deeply.
“This is why I wanted the back rows…”
Deus leaned toward her.
“Did they recognize me?”
Emma looked at him like it was obvious.
She tapped his silver hair with her fan.
“There’s only one person with that color.”
“…Just because of hair color?”
“It’s an unmistakable symbol.”
Before long, the announcer stepped onto the stage.
“Welcome to the Cage. Now then, let us begin with today’s first item!”
The murmurs gradually died down.
Emma whispered:
“Don’t worry. Everyone here is officially ‘not supposed to be here,’ so rumors will just stay rumors. One more won’t matter.”
Deus looked at her, dumbfounded.
But Emma only winked and turned forward.
Deus could only awkwardly scratch his eye-catching silver hair.
