* * *
The lowest voice Eren had ever heard made him look up at the man in confusion.
The man’s enormous size made Eren feel threatened in that moment.
‘Why, why is he…’
The thought passed through his mind, but there was no time to think.
His instincts screamed that the man before him was dangerous, and Eren decided to pull away.
“…I’m not.”
“You are. You’re the one who left the scar on my face.”
What is he talking about?
Eren looked at him with disbelief.
His small, delicate frame seemed more suited to being on the receiving end of injury rather than inflicting harm.
And it seemed denying it was useless.
The man’s unwavering face showed he had already come to know exactly who Eren was.
“…Why are you asking if you already know?”
“I had to confirm.”
The man lifted Eren’s wrist.
Eren was pulled off balance by the force.
His thin wrist felt like it could snap with just a little more pressure, and the man’s brow furrowed in response.
‘Is this really Eren Nefendis?’
The man, Ashard Friedt, looked at Eren with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.
A strategist known for leading every battlefield to victory, he had thought Eren to be a capable swordsman.
But this… this was a kid who still smelled of milk.
“Why are you here…?”
Eren’s body trembled as he was held in place.
His frightened voice trembled as he spoke, but his piercing blue eyes stared unwaveringly at the man, and Ashard seemed to take a liking to it.
“I’ve been ordered by His Majesty the Emperor to bring you quietly.”
“…Bring me?”
When Eren didn’t scream or try to run, Ashard released his hold on his wrist.
There was an odd, lingering stickiness left on his hand as he let go.
Eren rubbed his wrist.
A man of high rank, enough to receive direct orders from the emperor.
Yet, Eren had never seen him in the Epentel Empire.
Given his striking appearance, it was impossible that he could have been forgotten, and besides, he had never been mentioned in the novel.
Any man with a high rank in Epentel would surely know of Eren.
After all, there had been scenes in the novel where he was involved in 19+ content.
‘So, is he from another empire?’
It seemed the most reasonable conclusion, but it was highly unlikely.
They were currently in the middle of a battlefield with the Trovien Empire.
No one in their right mind would jump into enemy territory like this.
And it certainly didn’t make sense for him to be from Trovien. This was the enemy camp.
‘Could he be from the Epentel Empire, someone I don’t know?’
That seemed like a more reasonable thought, but then something caught Eren’s eye: Ashard’s sword, hanging from his waist, had the imperial seal of the Trovien Empire carved on the scabbard.
“…?”
Eren doubted his own eyes and stared harder.
Is he insane?!
‘Did he really just waltz into the enemy’s camp alone?!’
No one in their right mind would do that.
“I think you have an idea of who I am by now, so are you ready to be kidnapped?”
…Excuse me?
Did he just say “kidnapped”?
Eren blinked several times in disbelief at the blatant declaration of kidnapping.
‘Wait, hold on. This might be a good thing?’
He had already given all his strategies for victory in the war.
If he stayed in the Epentel Empire, everything would go according to the original story.
It might actually be better to be kidnapped than to lose his purity to those crazy bastards…?
Eren quickly assessed his situation.
“If you’re going to kidnap me, could you take me now?”
“…What?”
Ashard’s face showed a moment of confusion at the bold request.
“Hurry up and kidnap me. I won’t run, but if you need to tie me up, I’ll give you this.”
Eren handed Ashard his belt from beside the bed with all seriousness, and Ashard chuckled in amusement.
Unable to hold back, he covered his mouth and laughed loudly.
‘This man…’
He’s totally my type!
Looking at the gentle curve of his eyes, Eren’s ears turned bright red.
“It seems like you’re serious, but I don’t think we need to go that far.”
“What exactly are you planning?”
“I’ll tell you once you accept the deal. It’s really not something worth mulling over that much.”
“Have it your way.”
Just as Eren had said.
The condition he proposed was nothing more than securing his own safety.
Protecting someone like Eren was an easy enough task for Ashard.
Perhaps Ashard thought the same, as he gave a wordless nod of agreement.
“Latilan. By morning, the troops from Epentel will pass through Latilan and reach the border.”
“…So Latilan has declared its surrender.”
When Eren nodded as if to confirm, Ashard hurriedly entered a nearby tent.
Muffled voices could be heard from within, and soon, the dark encampment was lit up.
Not long after, the tent flap burst open and Ashard stepped out.
Eren, who had been waiting for him, quickly turned his head toward him.
Ashard, approaching with long strides, stopped in front of him and asked:
“The more I think about it, the more this seems like a deal in my favor. Are you really only asking for that one thing?”
“I told you, that’s all I want. It might be in your favor, but this is more important to me.”
His tone made it clear he thought the question was pointless.
Ashard let out a small chuckle.
They called Eren a genius strategist, obsessed with war—yet this wasn’t the behavior of someone driven by conquest.
More like someone who valued his own skin above all else.
“By the way, do you not know who I am—”
“I do.”
“Then why do you keep calling me you and that guy?”
“Wouldn’t it be weird to suddenly start calling you by name just because I found out who you are?”
“Did I ask you to use my name? Pretty sure I outrank you. You could at least call me ‘Your Grace, the Duke.’”
“I’m not from Trovien, and calling you ‘Your Grace’ just feels… off.”
“…You’re really nitpicking everything, aren’t you?”
At Ashard’s displeased expression, Eren smiled brightly in return.
After all, he held the upper hand in this deal—not Ashard.
As Ashard turned and headed back toward his tent, something made him pause and glance over his shoulder.
Despite having arrived quite some time ago, Eren was still on his horse.
Surely not…?
“Don’t tell me you can’t get down by yourself?”
“…Well.”
Eren looked away awkwardly at the painfully accurate question.
The Trovien horses were far larger and faster than the ones from Epentel.
Getting on had been manageable, but getting off alone from such height?
It looked like a guaranteed way to break an ankle.
Catching on, Ashard let out a soft snort of amusement.
“If you noticed, you could at least help me down.”
“Me? Isn’t it a bit much to ask for help down from a horse when we’re not even on friendly terms?”
What, is he getting revenge now?
How petty can he be?
* * *
