The object of affection becomes a male best friend

Adrian touched his cheek with his hand.

He still couldn’t understand—was it really just because he’d won a few chess matches?

Surely not…

Was this woman trying to make every boy despise him as revenge—by kissing him in front of everyone?

For boys, the idea of their goddess kissing someone else was unthinkable!

At that thought, Adrian shivered involuntarily.

‘Holy crap… that’s diabolical!’

Meanwhile, Ilisia wore a triumphant “mission accomplished” expression, unable to hide her delight.

What she was actually thinking was:

‘Make Adrian fall for me… then crush his heart and dump him.’

Just imagining Adrian begging her not to leave made her lips curl into an unconscious smile.

This was revenge—on Bella, and on Adrian himself.

“Ilisia!”

Just as the two stood locked in their silent tension, a voice shattered Ilisia’s daydream.

“What are you doing sneaking into our house while I’m away?!” Bella appeared at the garden entrance.

One hand on her hip, cheeks puffed, the other finger pointing accusingly at Ilisia—who was still lost in smug satisfaction—Bella’s eyes burned with fury.

She looked exactly like an enraged, fluffed-up squirrel.

A bad feeling crept into Adrian’s gut.

‘Mom, please come home soon! Mom!’

He desperately hoped Lady Delarose would return immediately—otherwise, an unstoppable storm was about to break loose.

“Cheating cat!” Bella shrieked.

“I—I didn’t do anything! Don’t misunderstand!” Ilisia instinctively shot back, though her voice lacked conviction. She quickly retorted, “And you, calling people that? How utterly unbecoming of a noble lady!”

“That’s exactly what it’s for—you!” Bella snapped.

Adrian pressed his lips together, pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, and subtly edged toward the garden gate.

He signaled a servant over, had the broken lamp pieces gathered, and gave a few quiet instructions.

Then, while the two girls were completely absorbed in glaring at each other, Adrian slipped out of the garden at a brisk pace.

“Oh boy, oh boy…” Adrian murmured under his breath in Chinese, wiping sweat from his brow.

“This is so hard!”

The maid trailing behind him heard her young master mutter several incomprehensible words. She recognized it as his usual habit—whenever he was in a foul mood, he’d curse quietly in that strange tongue.

All she could do was keep her lips pressed shut, bow her head slightly, and offer soft consolation: “Master, don’t mind them. Young ladies are just… like that.”

Adrian only shook his head.

‘Guess I’ll have to retreat to the mountains from now on…’

****

Behind him, Bella’s furious shouts and Ilisia’s defiant retorts tangled in the night air:

“Ilisia, you sneaky little cat!”

“Stop it! Don’t call me that ridiculous nickname!”

“Just admit it—you kissed my brother!”

“I—I did not!”

…

After returning home from the Delarose estate, Ilisia felt as if she’d discovered a whole new world.

Whenever she found herself losing ground in her rivalry with Bella, she’d simply rest a graceful hand against her cheek, smile faintly, and say:

“By the way… your brother’s been so sweet to me lately…”

And instantly, Bella’s face would puff up like a blowfish, spitting out newly learned insults to vent her rage.

On several occasions, Lady Delarose happened to witness Bella’s outbursts and pulled her aside for a stern scolding:

“A noble lady must carry herself with dignity,” she’d say, exasperated. “Bella, don’t you realize you’re acting like an irritable beaver?”

Every time she saw Bella standing there, head bowed and eyes glistening with委屈, Ilisia felt she’d won again.

Of course, merely broadcasting victories without advancing the front lines wouldn’t secure final triumph.

To truly claim victory, she needed Adrian completely under her spell!

But meeting Adrian proved far harder than she’d imagined.

He wasn’t like other boys—never showing up punctually at the sword training grounds or the riding fields.

Adrian never practiced swordsmanship. He never played with the other boys.

Ever since the “chess incident,” the boys had grown openly hostile toward this raven-haired oddity.

They called him “the Sickly Black-Hair.”

That wasn’t surprising.

In the kingdom, martial prowess—especially swordsmanship—was revered.

In noble circles, a boy who didn’t train with the sword was seen as “no different from a girl,” a “freak,” even “crippled.”

Being looked down upon was inevitable.

And Adrian had made things worse by “stealing” their goddess—Ilisia.

That gave the boys the perfect excuse to isolate him.

Strangely enough, nearly every noble family in the kingdom hired a sword instructor for their sons—and the wealthy often secured former royal swordmasters as tutors.

The Delarose family was obscenely rich, yet they’d never hired a swordmaster for their only son.

It made no sense to anyone.

Ilisia had even urged her father to invite Adrian to train alongside her brothers.

But Lady Delarose had flatly refused Duke Wenser’s offer, saying:

“Agile swordplay may win a battle—but an agile mind wins a lifetime.”

Ilisia hadn’t expected the ever-gentle Lady Delarose to utter something so boldly arrogant.

Adrian himself, however, seemed utterly indifferent to the hostility around him.

He was too busy saving the world.

Most of his time was spent in the study, the secret chamber beneath the flower field, or deep in remote mountains observing stars.

Within days, Ilisia mapped out Adrian’s schedule.

From then on, whenever Adrian read in his study, Ilisia would lift her skirts, sneak through the flowerbed by the window, and climb through the half-open pane.

Several times, she startled him so badly he nearly dropped his book.

But she didn’t stop there.

Sometimes, she’d hide along the path Adrian took to his stargazing hill, leap out suddenly, and cling to him for a stretch of the walk—until he finally fled in exasperation, with Ilisia chasing after him for a good distance before giving up.

Adrian wasn’t defenseless, though.

He learned counter-surveillance and deception—using dummies to mimic his presence, tricking Ilisia into thinking he was still in the study.

He even rigged traps by the window: once, when Ilisia gleefully climbed in, her skirt got snagged, leaving her dangling awkwardly from the sill—her undergarments fully exposed.

“So… white today?” Adrian asked casually.

“ADRIAN!!!” Ilisia shrieked, frozen in place from embarrassment.

“If you promise not to do this again, I’ll let you down,” Adrian said, struggling to suppress a grin.

This “cat-and-mouse” game lasted for years. Both sides refined their tactics, eventually evolving their antics into something resembling espionage.

As they grew older, however, the farce finally reached its end.

Duke Wenser could no longer tolerate his daughter behaving like a wild child—chasing boys and acting in utterly unseemly ways.

He held a meeting with Lady Delarose, and the two families brokered an agreement:

Ilisia would stop harassing Adrian daily, and in return, Adrian would set aside time each week to accompany her.

Thus, their relationship took a bizarre but rapid leap forward.

****

“What do you think—should I marry Cassius or William?” Ilisia asked.

Both Cassius and William were childhood friends of hers.

Cassius was the broodingly handsome sword prodigy, universally admired in noble circles. William, equally striking, was a military genius brimming with strategic theory.

Both adored Ilisia.

“Aren’t you still planning to marry the prince?” Adrian flipped a page idly.

“Oh, right—the prince too,” Ilisia sighed, shaking her head. “So many choices… such a headache.”

By now, Ilisia and Adrian had settled into something like close friends—or, more accurately, “besties.”

Whenever something troubled her, she’d rush to Adrian, pouring out her frustrations.

He always listened attentively, occasionally offering dry advice.

‘As long as this lunatic leaves me alone the rest of the time…’

“If you ask me,” Adrian said, “keep them both guessing for now. Be warm one day, distant the next—let them fight for your attention. That’s to your advantage.”

“Brilliant!” Ilisia’s eyes sparkled.

Adrian smirked inwardly and muttered under his breath: “Cassius, William… my deepest apologies, gentlemen…”

‘Go ahead—fight it out! The more energy she wastes on you two, the less she has to bother me!’

‘Heh heh heh!’

A sly smile tugged at Adrian’s lips.

“Aren’t you doing the same to me?” Ilisia suddenly turned to him. “Playing hot and cold?”

Adrian frowned.

‘Lady, I’ve been cold to you the whole time—okay?’

“Don’t be silly, Ilisia,” he forced a smile. “We’ve always just been friends, haven’t we?”

Ilisia traced her fingers along the table edge, then stood up.

“You’d better treat me nicely,” she pouted. “Once I become queen, I’ll protect you—helpless non-swordsman that you are.”

“I shall forever be grateful, Your Majesty,” Adrian bowed with exaggerated formality.

Ilisia burst out laughing, gave his shoulder a playful pat, and strode out of the room.

****

“Who’s going to check the air valve? This place is suffocating.”

The moment Ilisia left, Adrian appeared in the secret chamber beneath the flower field.

“Boss,” Martin hurried forward as soon as he saw Adrian, handing over a stack of documents.

Martin had worked here for years now—a veteran employee.

Aside from the stuffy air, the pay and conditions here far surpassed any job he’d ever had.

He’d grown genuinely attached to this place—and no longer called Adrian “my lord,” but simply “boss.”

“Boss, Princess Heronie wrote again,” Martin said. “This one’s… kind of mushy. You’d better read it yourself.”

“Mushy?” Adrian took the letter, glanced at it—and his cheeks flushed slightly.

He immediately placed it on a female clerk’s desk.

“Judy, you handle drafting templates for the princess’s letters from now on. Show me before sending,” Adrian instructed. “Make sure you clearly explain the Cult’s operational updates—and add some flirty lines at the end.”

“M-my lord, I don’t know how to write that kind of thing,” Judy stammered, her own face turning pink as she read Heronie’s letter.

“Just copy a few lines from that ‘Book of Sweet Nothings’ I gave you,” Adrian said, “and remember to alter the handwriting before signing.”

“We need to keep the Saintess Princess happy. Without the Cult’s backing, you lot can go kill monsters yourselves—with actual swords.”

Judy nodded weakly.

“Oh, and boss,” Martin added, “the Cult sent new stargazing data and calculations again.”

“Throw it straight in the trash next time,” Adrian said. “All their data’s garbage.”

With that, Adrian pulled on his coat and left the chamber.

Martin watched his boss’s retreating back, thinking to himself:

‘He really doesn’t have it easy…’