An Unexpected Interruption

A brief silence fell after both combatants assumed their opening stances.

Within seconds, Adrian’s mind was racing.

He had come to a single conclusion.

He had absolutely been set up by Ilisia!

Who knows what nonsense that woman had filled this young man’s head with.

Adrian sighed, his eyes fixed on the tip of Cassius’s sword.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ he thought.

‘If it’s just a matter of the heart, couldn’t we have settled it with a formal, staged duel?’

‘Demanding a fight to the death right off the bat… I can’t even hold back properly…’

“…”

Suddenly, Cassius moved, his longsword lunging forward like a bolt of lightning.

His entire body followed the blade, as if to unleash all his strength and fury in a single, decisive blow.

Cassius fully intended to kill Adrian.

As for the consequences of such an act, that thought had not yet crossed his mind.

Seeing his opponent’s charge, Adrian shifted his feet and dodged the fatal strike.

He retreated a few steps to steady his stance, preparing to counter.

Adrian’s first strike was as gentle as moonlight.

It resembled the sword dances of performers in the Theater Kingdom—unthreatening, seemingly easy to read and parry.

But the moment the blade’s tip made contact with Cassius’s defensive zone, it abruptly became swift and powerful.

Like a soaring dragon twisting in the wind, it sliced through the air and utterly pierced Cassius’s defense.

“Whoa!”

Cassius cried out in alarm as he saw the sword point aiming straight for his heart.

Clang!

The sword was knocked from Cassius’s grasp, sent flying to a corner of the hall where it landed with a crisp, metallic ring.

Adrian sheathed his weapon.

Beads of sweat dotted Cassius’s forehead as he gasped for breath, his legs giving way and sending him collapsing to the floor.

“…”

The nobles in the hall were silent, the atmosphere so thick with tension that no one dared to speak.

“My apologies for the poor display,” Adrian said with a slight bow.

He then turned and walked toward the long table, taking a seat that had been reserved for him.

The nobles exchanged bewildered glances—they had expected a quick fight, but they had all bet on the wrong victor.

All eyes turned to Duke Wenser, awaiting his reaction.

The Duke simply lowered his head, cut a piece of steak, and brought it to his mouth.

A moment later, he dabbed his lips with a napkin, rose from his seat, and began to clap.

The solitary applause echoed through the banquet hall, but it was quickly joined by more, swelling into a thunderous ovation.

The tension in the air quietly dissipated, replaced by a rising tide of excitement and relief.

In the eyes of these nobles, Adrian’s status was hardly remarkable.

Most held no particular animosity toward him; besides, even if he were to become the Duke’s son-in-law, the marriage would have no real impact on the grand chessboard of power.

At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.

Some nobles were even rather pleased to see the perpetually arrogant Cassius taken down a peg.

In the end, the person most wounded by this duel was its instigator, Cassius himself.

He remained frozen in place, his clothes soaked through with sweat.

Cassius knew that if Adrian’s blade had pushed forward just a fraction more, he would have been utterly unable to avoid it.

His life would have ended then and there.

Yet he couldn’t believe it—he had been defeated by a man who never practiced with a sword, a man whose hands didn’t even have calluses.

How had he done it?

Since childhood, Cassius had crossed swords with countless masters, including the Royal Sword Masters who served the king in the capital…

He had never witnessed swordsmanship like Adrian’s, nor had he ever been so thoroughly outmatched.

Unless Adrian was a prodigy who had been training with a sword since he was in the womb, such skill should have been impossible.

“…”

The banquet continued, and the lords drank and made merry.

No one cared where Cassius went after the duel.

Their attention was now focused on Adrian, and they were delighted to make the acquaintance of a young man with such superb martial skill.

Wave after wave of guests came to offer Adrian a drink.

From the nobles’ congratulations and chatter, he began to piece together the situation.

Ilisia, leveraging Duke Wenser’s authority, was trying to force him into marrying her!

“I knew it,” Adrian muttered, downing the wine in his hand.

The feast lasted late into the night.

Amidst the dispersing crowd, Ilisia found Adrian, who was swaying, thoroughly drunk.

“Let him rest at my place tonight,” Ilisia said to Adrian’s servant.

The servant, understanding the situation perfectly, entrusted his master to Ilisia and quickly departed the banquet hall.

Ilisia helped Adrian back to her room and laid him on her bed.

Looking at the defenseless Adrian lying on her bed, Ilisia’s cheeks flushed, and she could hear her own heart pounding in her chest.

‘Heavens above, I’ve shamelessly brought him to my room!’

‘Calm down, Ilisia… calm down. He fought for you again today; he must be exhausted…’

Amid her wavering thoughts, emotion won out.

A bold idea formed in Ilisia’s mind.

She dismissed her servants, removed her formal gown, and slipped into a somewhat sheer, white nightdress.

Ilisia swallowed hard and began to unfasten Adrian’s outer coat, then, one by one, undid the buttons on the last shirt he was wearing.

She felt a rush of heat to her head that left her dizzy.

Her breathing grew heavier, her hands trembling with excitement…

‘What am I doing? What in the world am I doing?’

Ilisia leaned her face close to Adrian’s and closed her eyes…

Bang!

Someone burst through the door.

“Ah!”

Ilisia screamed, quickly pulling the blanket up to cover her exposed chest as she stared in panic at the doorway.

The first thing she saw was the intruder’s fiery red hair, followed by an exquisitely beautiful face—it was the kingdom’s princess, Heronie.

Heronie projected an icy aura that made Ilisia tremble involuntarily.

But the aura vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of grievance on the princess’s face.

“My, my, I’ve been running around taking care of everything…” Heronie took a deep breath as she stepped into the room.

“I was wondering why I couldn’t find a certain someone. So this is where you were hiding.”

Princess Heronie’s tone carried a lazy sort of charm, like a blade wrapped in silk.

“This is my private chamber, Your Highness. What brings you here?” Ilisia asked coldly, recovering from her shock.

“Oh? And why is something of mine in your private chamber?” Heronie replied.

“What of yours is here?” Ilisia was a little confused.

“Isn’t he right here?” Heronie pointed at Adrian on the bed, covering her mouth with her hand as she smiled.

Ilisia had thought herself quite shameless, but she never imagined she’d meet someone even more so.

Paying Ilisia no mind, Heronie walked straight to Adrian’s side and pinched his cheek, hard.

“The people you asked for have all arrived,” Heronie said.

“If you don’t get up soon, shall I tell them to leave?”

“Couldn’t you have told me tomorrow morning?” Adrian opened his eyes and yawned.

He sat up, rubbing his head, his drowsy demeanor vanishing completely.

“Tomorrow morning?” Heronie chuckled softly.

“We’ve only been apart for a few hours, and you’ve already ended up in someone else’s bed…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t…” Adrian looked around, then down at himself before asking in shock, “Where’s my shirt?”

He glanced over at Ilisia, who was hugging her knees.

Her face was red all the way to her ears, and she had buried her head in the blankets.

“You can’t blame me for this…” Adrian said, holding up his hands defensively.

“Alright,” Heronie leaned in close to Adrian.

“Come now, let’s get your clothes on.”

Her fingers traced a slow path down his shoulder.

“Lift your arm. Be a good boy,” she murmured, her voice impossibly soft.

Adrian raised an eyebrow and lifted his arm.

A smile played on Heronie’s lips as she slowly draped the shirt over his shoulders, her fingertips brushing lightly against his collarbone.

“Mmm,” she drew out the sound, blowing a soft breath near his ear.

“Just as I thought. Your skin is even smoother than the fabric.”

“Er… I can do the buttons myself,” Adrian shivered.

He quickly stood up, fastened the buttons, and put on his shoes.

“No fun,” Heronie sighed, turning to smile at Ilisia.

“My apologies, Miss Ilisia, for interrupting your evening.”

After getting dressed, the three of them boarded a carriage.