* * *
“This is all your fault, Lord Ashard! You keep doing stuff like this out here!”
“Stuff like this? What kind of stuff? I don’t quite understand what you mean, so why don’t you show me?”
Ashard leaned down slightly, as if inviting a kiss on the cheek.
In response, Eren pinched the back of Ashard’s hand with all his strength—a silent plea for him to get a grip.
But Ashard, seemingly unfazed, simply waited until Eren’s grip loosened, then gently wrapped his larger hand over Eren’s smaller one.
“Just let me have your hand. No one can see us anyway.”
After a moment of silence, Eren tightened his grip on Ashard’s hand.
The barely-there squeeze was enough to grant silent permission.
Ashard couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth at that.
Eren grabbed his hand with a bit of attitude and muttered to himself in silent excuse: it’s just because the central grounds are busy tallying up the game.
Normally, he would’ve refused flat out—but right now, in this particular moment, they weren’t standing out too much.
That rationalization didn’t last long.
“Has the scoring been completed?” the Emperor asked.
A knight who had been carrying the game hesitated before replying, “There is… one left uncounted, sire…”
“Would a single remaining catch really change the outcome? I believe the winner is already quite obvious.”
“No, Your Majesty… It’s not just any catch…”
Before the knight could finish, a massive beast was dragged out of the forest.
Gasps of horror spread across the faces of the nobles.
Even the Emperor, who had barely blinked at the mountain of prey offered by the Fridit family, was left speechless.
Who would’ve guessed that the ‘one remaining’ catch was that?
Tied to the hind leg of the dead Anasil was the crest of House Fridit.
At the sight of it, the crowd immediately parted to make way.
Eren and Ashard, now standing alone at the center, became the focus of every eye.
Eren quickly pulled his hand away and tried to step aside.
“Where are you going?”
Of course, that didn’t work.
Ashard tightened his grip even more, holding Eren in place.
Unable to do anything else, Eren lowered his head, trying to avoid the gazes around him.
“Wait—don’t tell me… you killed an Anasil?” Helid had just returned from the hunting grounds, and his face was filled with disbelief as he stared at Ashard. He’d known the man was skilled, but to take down that? His gaze toward Ashard grew heavy, thick with envy.
He’d always prided himself on being a better hunter than those spoiled noble brats.
But of all things, it had to be an Anasil.
Even the former Emperor of Epentel, who was obsessed with hunting, had forbidden it.
Just stepping into their habitat could mean death—encountering even one was often fatal.
“And yet he killed one?”
He’d assumed Ashard wouldn’t be an easy opponent, but this was beyond his expectations.
Helid’s brows furrowed.
The calm he’d kept so far was gone.
His once-still heart had begun to ripple—and he wasn’t alone.
“…You truly are remarkable, Your Grace.”
Despite the compliment, Julius’s narrowed eyes on the Anasil corpse said otherwise.
“He’s more of a nuisance than I thought.”
The air around Julius cooled.
The shadow stretching from his feet darkened, even as a dazzling smile lit up his face.
“With something like that, there’s no need to tally up points. The Duke has clearly won.”
“Indeed. Count Hessen’s family can’t compete with that.”
“Whether by number or score, he’s way ahead.”
The nobles, watching the atmosphere, began chiming in.
Eren, observing both Julius and Helid, felt his expression darken.
Neither of them seemed to know anything about the Anasil.
That would mean only Carlyle was involved in this.
But without the help of the other two, it should’ve been impossible.
Even one Anasil was dangerous—and they usually moved in packs.
“So then what the hell really happened?”
A dull headache began to set in.
His instincts screamed that those three were somehow involved, but it didn’t add up.
Ashard silently looked down at the now-stiffened Eren.
What kind of thoughts could be running through his head to give him that expression?
Just then, the Emperor’s voice rang out again, calling attention to the center.
“The tally is complete. Though the winner is already clear for all to see, we needed time to determine second and third place.”
The top three hunters of the tournament were expected to attend the following banquet and dance with their partners.
If the hunting tournament was a formal declaration of one’s chosen partner by offering the prize, then the banquet was a second chance for those who fell just short.
That’s why nobles competed so fiercely even without the intent to win.
As expected, Ashard was declared the winner.
Second place went to the second son of Count Hessen’s household.
But Eren, who had little interest in the other rankings, had only one concern: Ashard, who still hadn’t let go of his hand.
“Thank you, Lord Ashard.”
“No need to thank me. There’s a price for everything.”
“A… price…?”
He never said anything about that! Eren’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
He’d already been strong-armed into unfair deals by Ashard before.
Like a cat whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way, Eren glared, only for Ashard to chuckle and press a finger gently to his furrowed brow.
“You should try to get some rest on the way back to the estate.”
It was a declaration of war.
Ashard had no plans to let him sleep tonight.
Before the smirk even faded from his face, Eren turned deadly serious and shook his head firmly.
“That’s not happening.”
“What? Why not?”
He’d already held back so much because of that injured ankle.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
And it was obvious Eren was struggling to hold back, too.
Ashard protested, but Eren bit his lip and looked up.
“You’re still injured. What if the wound opens again?”
“I already treated the worst of it. This is nothing.”
“Still no. Nothing until your wound is fully healed.”
“How long do you expect that to take?!”
Ashard was on the verge of losing his mind at Eren’s firm rejection—he’d turned his head sharply, as if to say “absolutely not.”
If it had been anything else, Ashard might’ve found a way to work around it.
But of all things, it had to be the wounds on his own body.
Even healing magic hadn’t been enough to fully treat them, and if he relied solely on a physician, it would easily take a month to recover.
“Are you seriously doing this right now?”
“They’re about to announce third place. You should get ready for the ceremony, Lord Ashard.”
Eren let go of the hand he’d been holding, as if there was no room for argument, and gave Ashard a light push on the back.
The touch was so gentle and cautious, as if he were afraid to aggravate Ashard’s injuries, that he couldn’t bring himself to say another word.
He’d wanted to argue more, but the delicate push against his back silenced him.
With a resigned sigh, Ashard reached out, grabbed Eren’s wrist, and pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his waist.
Eren’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden touch.
This was a public place—he tried to peel Ashard’s hand away in haste, but couldn’t.
“W-What are you doing?!”
“What? Is there anyone in this Empire who doesn’t already know we’re lovers?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Just stay still. I’m going to dedicate the winner’s prize to you anyway, so it’ll look better if we’re together.”
With that, Ashard dragged Eren with him toward the stage.
Eren’s face flushed red.
Ever since yesterday, it felt like all eyes kept landing on him one way or another.
As they neared the stage, Eren suddenly felt a sharp gaze from somewhere and turned his head.
“…Carlyle?”
At the edge of the crowd stood Carlyle, his gaze cold as he stared at them.
His face was as unreadable as ever, but it was obvious—there was emotion behind that expressionless mask.
And the fact that his gaze wasn’t on Eren, but on Ashard… made Eren’s expression tense without him even realizing it.
“Third place… goes to the House of Pirentium.”
Came the Emperor’s announcement.
As if in response, Carlyle began to move, stepping forward.
Watching him approach, Eren felt a wave of dread wash over him.
The man walking toward them didn’t feel like the Carlyle he knew.
It felt like a deep, suffocating darkness was swallowing him whole.
* * *
