* * *
“Mother.”
“…?”
A voice came from behind me, drawing every gaze in the room.
The red tint in the air deepened instantly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be over there?”
Only one person—Countess Valuncio—responded differently.
Surely he’s not cutting in here just because he’s too lazy to go hunting.
That thought flashed clearly across her face.
I saw it because I was thinking the same.
Her eyes flashed briefly, sharply.
As expected of the mistress of House Valuncio.
The glint vanished as quickly as it came, but it was fierce.
She seemed eager to send Klen back to the hunting grounds.
Even if he couldn’t show valor befitting the count’s son, she at least wanted him to participate.
‘If we’re going by lineage, I’m Kaldric’s son, too.’
Of course, she wouldn’t consider that.
She might even think that if I collapse, it would only hurt their reputation.
“May I hunt with my spouse?”
“…What?”
I turned around. Klen was smiling.
Not his usual gentle smile that he wore when facing me, but something softer, looser—almost clueless.
He’s performing now, with all these eyes watching.
“Oh my.”
I felt his warmth touch my back.
Then his hand came to rest on my shoulder, and hushed murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Hmm… But won’t that be bad for his health?”
The countess chose her words carefully.
I had just made a positive impression—if I pushed myself and collapsed, it would be embarrassing.
They already knew I was frail, but seeing it in person would hit differently.
“If I’m by his side, won’t it be fine?”
“….”
Though conscious of the attention around her, she didn’t reply right away.
A subtle hesitation.
Likely because she didn’t believe him.
Maybe if someone else had offered—but him?
Perhaps she wanted to say: ‘It’s because it’s you by his side that I worry more.’
That’s the price of failing to build trust with others.
I didn’t miss the moment her eyes flicked to the side.
A soundless sigh escaped her lips.
She couldn’t delay her answer any longer.
“Fine. It hasn’t been long since your marriage—you’d naturally want to be together. Go, then.”
Words that didn’t match her heart followed.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
I quickly stepped to Klen’s side and bowed with him.
It was the countess’s decision, so no one could oppose it, but several faces showed visible disappointment.
Not all directed at me.
Even while pretending to be clueless, Klen’s handsome face was enough to draw subtle flirtations from more than a few.
Turning our backs to all those gazes, we walked off, hand in hand.
“Why did you come get me?”
Klen stopped.
His expression as he met my eyes was softer now, unlike the smile from earlier.
“You looked bored. It also seemed like you were signaling for help.”
“….”
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t.
But he read me too well, so I couldn’t argue.
People gathered before Count Valuncio, us among them.
Their weapons varied—longswords, greatswords, different types of bows, spears, maces…
Even those who typically favored swords now carried diverse arms.
It was hard to tell if they were going hunting or heading on a grand expedition.
‘Is this hunting tournament really such a big deal?’
Too much, if it’s just for honor.
The count looked upon the crowd with pride—until his eyes landed on me.
There was a flicker of something—displeasure, maybe concern—but it quickly vanished before anyone else could notice.
‘I don’t belong here.’
Is that what he was thinking?
Klen tapped my arm lightly.
“Adrian, do you have a weapon?”
“Eh? Ah…”
I glanced down at my hands and waist.
Nothing. No weapon at all.
Of course not.
They never intended for me to actually participate.
No one had handed me a weapon.
But I couldn’t blame anyone else.
If my father had seen this, he’d have shouted furiously—how could someone about to enter battle not check whether they had their sword?
I looked around.
The weapons prepared by the attendants were all gone—claimed by the over-equipped crowd around us.
“Use mine.”
“Huh? Then what about you?”
I took the sword Klen offered without hesitation.
“….”
But Klen said nothing.
No mention of having a spare, or borrowing another.
He simply stood there, posture relaxed, gaze averted.
‘You little…’
No doubt about it—this was his excuse to be lazy.
He’d say he gave up his sword because his spouse wanted to hunt.
And now, unarmed, he couldn’t participate himself.
A perfect excuse.
No one expected anything from him anyway.
‘Still, leaving the hunting to your fragile spouse and taking a break? Really?’
Maybe he saw this as a good opportunity too—if my reputation tanked, his would rise by contrast.
What if I really did have a chronic illness or a weak body?
Curious about his sword, I unsheathed it right away.
The polished blade gleamed sharply, the hilt solid and comfortable in my grip.
It had pierced through an orc’s hide with ease—clearly a fine weapon.
But something felt off.
A strange doubt, something I hadn’t noticed when I glanced at it before, now hit me squarely.
‘What is this?’
It was a good sword.
But too ordinary for him.
Why?
Why does it feel wrong for Klen to use such a basic weapon?
“Now that everyone is gathered, I shall make the announcement.”
At that moment, the Count opened his mouth.
“The prize for the winner of this hunting competition is this.”
He had an attendant bring out a sword.
Fitting for a family renowned for swordsmanship—of course, the prize would be a sword.
I leaned in, curious to see what kind of blade it was.
Clang—
“…!”
The sound as it was unsheathed rang out clear and melodic, unlike any ordinary sword.
The blade glimmered with a blue hue—it looked light, sharp, and deadly.
“This is a sword crafted by Ivan, the blacksmith from the West, using a rare mineral. Ivan was so pleased with it that he gave it a name himself—Levatein.”
“…!”
It was unusual for a blacksmith to name a sword himself.
That spoke volumes—it meant this was his masterpiece.
A truly exceptional weapon.
But that wasn’t the real issue at hand.
I turned my gaze to Klen, then back to the sword.
‘Levatein.’
The moment I heard that name, a spark of realization flashed through my mind, connecting scattered memories.
Every question I had until now suddenly made sense.
The rare mineral had fallen from the sky, and in the hands of a master smith, it had become a sword.
A legendary treasure, said to never be surpassed—now being offered as a prize in this hunting competition.
‘No way…’
And more importantly, in the novel, when the protagonist meets Klen, that very sword is described as his most cherished weapon.
Meaning—
‘Klen is going to win this competition?’
I didn’t have to follow the novel’s events.
That story was just a fantasy, a kind of prophecy.
Reality is different.
Going against the plot might actually improve my chances of survival.
But that sword… it really should end up in Klen’s hands.
After all, the protagonist only borrows it briefly.
Klen eventually hands it over.
But no one else here would so easily give such a treasure to someone as unremarkable as our main character.
Even Klen—who’s not the type to covet material things—had made the protagonist promise to return that sword.
That’s how attached to it he was…
* * *
