Chapter 112
It was the fifth day of the tournament finals.
Unlike the early days, when dozens of matches were held each day, the number of matches per day decreased as the event went on. Only the skilled remained, each match became important, and the audience wanted to see every single one.
At first, the tournament had felt unfamiliar, but soon everyone was eager to know everything about their favorite contestant and paid close attention to the regions the standout participants represented.
“Odeville is the best! Didn’t it produce the most finalists?”
“What are you talking about? Didn’t you see the young bear of Ridolen carry the team single-handedly? He’s definitely making the semifinals!”
Minor lords from regions that were either too small or too far from the center to attract attention were excited. And the lords with skilled knights were excited too.
Nerys noticed that the vassal lords of Maindulante were being polite not just to each other, but to the central officials as well.
“Did you say Sir O’Connor? Ahem, ahem. Thank you for guiding us so attentively.”
“Change the order? Well, that’s no problem at all.”
The lower-ranked officials looked unsettled by the unusually courteous attitude of these usually arrogant lords. But in fact, this change was natural.
Since the new Duke’s ascension, the status of the vassal lords had steadily diminished—in their eyes. For now, they banded together to save face, but who could say what the future held?
For them, hosting this tournament felt like a sign from the center that they could continue to show their merit under the new Duke. What’s more, bringing honor to their region based on martial skill fit perfectly with Maindulante’s love of strength.
With this peace of mind, they became more accepting of the current system, which gave more power to the officials. Of course, not everyone was happy about it, but it was a remarkable change.
‘That’s why.’
Cledwyn suddenly organized the tournament. Nerys thought his approach was truly clever.
Competition between officials and lords was useful—so long as it was healthy. If it turned to resentment and plotting, that was a problem.
For the vassal lords who had been left deflated by the recent Fecernon incident, the tournament was a welcome distraction.
Of course, the benefits didn’t end there.
Waaaah!
Once again, a single strike was all it took. That’s all Cledwyn needed to defeat his opponent.
With only a few matches per day, there was now just one arena in the palace courtyard, complete with a high stage and a box for honored guests.
Seated among other dignitaries in the guest box, Nerys watched as Cledwyn finished his match. His opponent collapsed in shock and bowed his head.
A thunderous ovation erupted, different from any other match. Cledwyn, showing little reaction, looked toward the guest box.
For some reason, Nerys felt like their eyes met.
She glanced away. The official managing the event shouted so everyone could hear.
“Victory for His Grace, the Duke!”
Waaah! The crowd went wild—not just the commoners, but the officials and even the young nobles in the guest box.
Nerys understood how they felt. Cledwyn was dazzling.
She couldn’t judge swordsmanship, but everyone left in the finals by the fifth day was a proven talent from all over Maindulante. Yet, when they faced Cledwyn, they all fell instantly.
Strength beloved by the people of Maindulante. Who couldn’t see that in his overwhelming skill?
“His Grace is truly so wonderful.”
Lady Denver, one of the vassal lords, said with admiration. She herself had been known for her knightly skill in her youth.
The surrounding nobles, young and old, agreed. One of them looked at Nerys and asked with shining eyes,
“Advisor, don’t you think His Grace will win the championship?”
“Yes, I suppose he will.”
Cledwyn’s victories were so overwhelming that people now wondered who would be the runner-up, not who would win. Nerys nodded without much thought.
Lady Denver’s face turned playful.
“If so, Advisor, will you also give your handkerchief to His Grace?”
She was referring to an old tradition at such tournaments: giving a handkerchief to the person you thought would win as both a gesture of support and a sign of your discernment.
Nerys calmly shook her head.
“His Grace must have already received many handkerchiefs. I doubt he needs mine.”
The nobles looked disappointed. Their eyes lingered, as if waiting for a longer answer.
“It’s wonderful, of course, that His Grace is showing such skill. But as you know, he didn’t organize the tournament for attention. He wanted his people to always strive for more. So, I’d rather send my support to other participants.”
“For example?”
Another noble asked, refusing to give up. Nerys listed them as if she’d been waiting.
“Sir Alby Dolien, Lord Rodney Hilbrin, Sir Sheldon Ridolen…”
She named not only the stars of this tournament but also those who’d shown skill but had the misfortune to lose early.
Each time she mentioned a name, the nobles grew more serious.
The official tournament purpose had been stated at the opening, but with Cledwyn’s dominance, that meaning had faded somewhat.
Regions home to popular contestants were pleased, and trust in the Duke’s ‘meritocracy’ had grown. And everyone respected his skill.
But those who had traveled far only to lose early felt uneasy. Did they spend their time and money just to let others enjoy themselves?
‘At the very least.’
‘This isn’t just an event for spectacle, is it?’
Vassal lords who had felt excluded under the previous Duke, or more recently, exchanged glances. Some felt genuinely moved.
The next match was in the afternoon. The people scattered for lunch, and the nobles rose from their seats.
❖ ❖ ❖
After lunching with the nobles, Nerys stopped by her office for a while and quietly lost herself in thought as she worked.
A handkerchief… She couldn’t possibly give him something like that.
She’d been avoiding Cledwyn lately.
That wasn’t hard. Normally, with her mother joining them for meals every few days, she would have had to see him, but recently, both were so busy that staying in their offices late at night wasn’t unusual.
It weighed on her. Realizing she’d let herself develop foolish feelings for him, she now felt stupid. She no longer knew how to act around Cledwyn.
‘It’s still okay.’
Her belief that love meant little hadn’t changed. She’d rather make an enemy than fall in love—it was easier to know what to do.
Nerys’s future was clear.
She would take revenge on those who ruined her in her previous life, so they couldn’t destroy her again.
Then, after repaying her debt to Cledwyn by working for him, she would live quietly with her mother.
There was no room in that for a man. It wouldn’t be good for him or for her.
Even if she could find a man who didn’t want children, the problem remained: she couldn’t imagine a normal, healthy romance or marriage for herself.
How could someone like her truly love and be loved in return?
Thankfully, her current feelings weren’t deep. Unlike her past life, when she had only one person to love, now she had her mother. A fleeting crush couldn’t change the course of her life.
Besides, she had plenty of experience ignoring her feelings even with the person she liked right in front of her.
But all the talk about handkerchiefs and Cledwyn’s name still bothered her. She felt she’d never recover if she lost her composure in front of everyone.
‘I have to get used to it.’
She had to grow numb to it. Until she became so familiar and dull to these flutterings that nothing around her changed.
Outside, the murmurs of the afternoon matches resuming could be heard. Nerys sighed, stood, and left her office.
There was no one on the shortcut from her office to the palace courtyard. It was a rarely used path, and anyone who needed to be there was busy working or at the tournament.
When she stepped outside, it was darker than before. The sky had been gray for days, as if threatening rain. A damp autumn breeze swept harshly across her cheek.
Nerys realized that Cledwyn was standing at the corner she was about to pass.
He wore the same clothes he’d had on for the match. She thought he probably hadn’t even eaten lunch. Her heart thudded uncontrollably.
She was happy to see him.
But the fact that she shouldn’t be happy overwhelmed her mind.
“What are you doing here?”
It was an awkward spot. Just around the corner was the bustling courtyard, but since he hadn’t turned it, they were still alone.
Cledwyn walked up to Nerys, who had stopped about five steps away. There was no trace of his usual smile.
Nerys was not used to seeing him expressionless. She felt breathless, frozen as Cledwyn came right up to her.
Her heart screamed.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“When did I?”
“You haven’t come to me in days. You’ve sent your aides instead.”
“I was busy. Anyone hearing this would think we hadn’t seen each other for days.”
“Even at dinner, you didn’t look my way. Even when we sat together, you wouldn’t meet my eyes.”
“I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
Yes, a lie.
Why bring this up now, before she could even master lying brazenly?
Plip. Something cold hit Nerys’s forehead.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Cledwyn asked again. Nerys thought his face twisted, just a little.
Was that… impatience?
She didn’t answer. This time, Cledwyn’s face twisted for sure, and maybe—maybe—there was sadness.
Plip, plip. Cold raindrops dotted Cledwyn’s eyelashes and dampened Nerys’s shoulders.
Summer was over; autumn had come, and then would come the long winter.
It was a cold, forbidding rain, as if to say so.
“Did I do something wrong that night? Is that why you don’t like me anymore?”
Her chest ached like it would split. Nerys answered harshly, on purpose.
“It’s strange to say I don’t like you. Were we ever close enough for that?”
Raindrops rolled down Cledwyn’s pale cheeks. He asked, eyes trembling,
“Weren’t we?”
“No.”
“You don’t have any feelings for me? Not even a little—do you not like me even a little?”
Yes… she already knew.
That he treated her as someone special.
That even if she didn’t know exactly how much his feelings resembled her own ache, his heart was surely moved by her, too.
But she also knew too much else.
So she answered flatly, as if cutting him to pieces.
“I like you as a person. But that’s all.”
Waaaah! A cheer rose from beyond the corner.
Nerys forced a smile.
“The match must have started. I should go sit down.”
Cledwyn understood that she didn’t want him to come with her, so he turned and walked away alone.
Even after he was gone, Nerys stood there by herself for a long time. Then, pressing both hands to her face, she whispered to herself in the rain.
‘If only I’d been just a little less broken.’
…So I could like you without shame.
(T/N: Noooooo. I feel sad for Cledwyn. )
