* * *
This was the only moment when it was permissible to unsheathe a blade in front of the Count without consequence.
As I raised Levatein high, the retainers lifted their right hands in unison, as though the sword rested in their grasp.
The sight of them united like that probably looked impressive—at a glance.
But, for some reason, all of it just felt irritatingly tedious.
“This is already the second time…”
If only that ridiculous scandal hadn’t happened, I’d have done this once at the tournament and been done with it.
But here I was, repeating the process.
Of course, I didn’t let even a hint of those feelings show on my face.
I sheathed Levatein once more, turned toward the Count, and offered a polite bow.
Then I turned again to finally make my exit.
Tap.
“….”
A faint sound brushed against my ear—like fingers tapping firmly against leather.
It was a subtle noise, unlikely to draw suspicion even from those who heard it.
But to me, it was a signal.
I let the strength drain from my body, as if a sudden wave of dizziness overtook me.
My steps faltered, my posture slumped forward.
“Ugh…”
Just as planned, I let out a low groan and staggered.
“Adrian!”
“…?!”
An unscripted surprise unfolded—Klen dashed forward without warning and caught me.
But he moved so hastily, grabbing me after only the slightest falter, that we nearly collapsed together in a heap.
By sheer will, I managed to avoid the disgrace of shrieking in front of everyone.
I turned my head to look at him, my throat tightening with words I barely swallowed down: Did you forget this is supposed to be an act?
Klen’s face was flushed with genuine worry and panic.
“Father, my spouse isn’t feeling well. I’ll take him to his quarters.”
“Mm. Very well, do so.”
Klen pulled me firmly to his side, even though I tried to walk on my own.
His grip tightened, as if the moment he let go, I would collapse right onto the floor.
Only then did I realize—he was acting too.
With skills like that, he’d steal the spotlight in any theater troupe.
Thanks to me intentionally going limp, we staggered out of the audience chamber.
All eyes from the attending servants and guards, who clearly knew what had just gone down inside, were fixed on us.
Their gazes weighed heavily on me.
I subtly tried to put some distance between us to deflect their attention, but Klen only pulled me in closer, his voice quiet but loud enough for those nearby to hear clearly.
“If it’s that hard, I could just carry you—”
“No, I’ll walk like this.”
I cut him off, tugging on the hem of his clothes to urge him to leave the area faster.
The looks we were getting were strange, understandably so.
The winner of the hunting competition, the man who had walked with pride just moments ago, now being supported like he was about to collapse—of course people would find that odd.
I could almost hear the whispers: What the hell is going on with him?
I knew a faster way out of this situation.
All I had to do was accept what Klen had been about to suggest.
If he carried me, even running wouldn’t seem suspicious.
But I rejected that option and kept my head lowered, avoiding the stares.
I’d rather limp along awkwardly than get carried like a child.
‘…’
‘…’
Only after we passed through the suffocating gazes and the sound of footsteps behind us faded did I finally lift my head and glance around.
It wasn’t completely deserted.
But only the guards patrolling the castle remained—no one paying enough attention to overhear us.
“…Did we really have to go this far?”
I couldn’t exactly peel myself away from him now.
Since we were stuck close together anyway, I brought my lips to his ear and spoke quietly.
Our plan had been simple: I’d stagger a little to sell the image of weakness, and we’d walk out quietly.
But this constant collapsing act felt excessive.
“Ah, that’s because…”
Turning away from the main hall toward our private quarters, Klen gave a slight smile.
There were still people around, so the smile was infuriatingly light—a mischievous smirk like a child who’d successfully pulled a prank.
“I didn’t feel like sticking around in there.”
“….”
“There’s no important business left, anyway. It’d just be meaningless chatter.”
“Still, would it kill you to warn me first?”
“Isn’t this good practice for handling unexpected situations?”
Maybe he just enjoyed teasing me.
Watching that sly grin of his, I sometimes couldn’t tell what this man’s true nature was.
One moment, as cold as winter frost; the next, smiling with warmth.
And right now, he was just a mischievous kid.
I was about to suggest that we’d shown enough of this “frail” act to the others and should walk apart now when—
“Huh? You two are already out here?!”
“It’s really you!”
“P-please, wait just a second~”
At the sudden shouting behind us, I turned to see a group of knights in training uniforms rushing toward us in a fluster.
We had barely stopped walking when they caught up, quickly surrounding us.
“Greetings, Sir Klen! Sir Adrian!”
“You two are so close as always!”
“Nothing’s changed!”
To an outsider, it probably sounded like we went around flaunting our relationship all the time—ridiculous misunderstandings just waiting to happen.
“W-we have a request!”
“Could you… could you show us Levatein?!”
An odd request, to say the least.
Klen and I silently looked at them.
His grip on me loosened, so he was just as caught off guard by this as I was.
Surrounded by eager, sparkling eyes, I replayed their words in my mind.
‘They want to see Levatein.’
No hidden meanings—just a direct, straightforward request.
But hearing that come from a knight’s mouth was surprising.
Knights don’t usually flaunt their weapons around like trinkets.
The only time you lift your weapon in public is for ceremonial purposes—like the awards ceremony earlier.
And even that’s different from showing off.
There may be exceptions, but that’s the standard knightly decorum.
“Ah, s-sorry! That was rude of us…”
“We apologize.”
Seeing my lack of response, they seemed to realize their slip-up.
I looked around at them.
Aside from one, the rest were young—clearly rookies, eyes shining with youthful excitement.
Judging by their demeanor, they hadn’t participated in the hunting competition either.
Even the one with the softer expression seemed inexperienced.
Watching them lower their heads in disappointment, I glanced at Klen.
He simply stared back at me, saying nothing—no instructions, no interference.
But his posture shifted slightly, ready to pull me back in the moment I claimed to feel unwell.
“…Fine. Want me to show you for a bit?”
It was that gesture of his that made me change my mind.
Shiiing—
“Oh!”
“Wow…”
All I did was draw the sword, but gasps filled the air.
The gleaming blue blade caught the sunlight, sparkling as if it radiated its own light.
Some of them even clasped their hands together as though witnessing something sacred.
“That’s Levatein!”
“Am-amazing…”
They were impressed, but something about this unsettled me.
“Was this sword really that famous?”
Klen stared at the blade, speaking calmly.
“Well… the hunting competition isn’t an annual thing, and this was the first time they offered a sword as a prize. So it’s natural people are curious.”
“…!”
A sword from the Count’s family, known for their mastery in weapon forging—the first-ever championship prize of the hunting competition.
Levatein carried with it extravagant titles.
* * *
