Chapter 49
Clarissa lost all her anger at seeing Marie respond with an embarrassed look to her teasing words.
“Anyway, I told you, right? I have no desire to sit in such an unsettling place without even knowing who sent me or why.”
“Ah-ha.”
For once, Clarissa added an unnecessarily kind explanation for the considerate Marie.
Then, she looked at the empty seat that should have been hers—a place far above her current position.
‘But if they invited me, there must be a reason.’
At the front of the round stage where the tournament was held, the royal family—including Adria—was seated. Nobles took the seats on either side, and the remaining spots were filled with commoners.
Before the tournament even started, Clarissa, who had been scanning the packed seats, showed her first real interest in the event.
“Marie, do you know what the prize for winning is?”
“Usually, I believe it’s a medal from the royal family, a sum of gold, and the privilege of immediately becoming a royal knight.”
Clarissa had been unaware of this because she hadn’t cared until now. It was one of the largest events in the country, rivaling the Spring Debutante Ball.
Realizing this, Clarissa murmured in surprise:
“…That’s pretty bold.”
“Well, honestly, that’s just an excuse. The main point is honor. If you win here, you make a mark on the higher-ups, your future career path is practically secured, and if you wish, even marriage with a lower noble would be smooth sailing.”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
All of it was new information to her.
Clarissa nodded, her face now full of curiosity at Marie’s words—a rare moment where her intelligence shone.
While the two of them chatted, a man in a neat uniform ascended the stage and loudly announced the start.
Boom, boom—the beating of drums was followed by the blast of trumpets.
Amid the deafening sounds, two men, completely different in appearance from the first, appeared on stage, each armed.
The first match ended in an instant.
Then the next, and the next, with countless victories and defeats in the blink of an eye.
Every time someone fell or triumphed, the crowd erupted in excitement—and the two of them, with their own reasons, were no exception.
Clarissa, now looking at the newly arrived two, began in an excited voice:
“Marie, who do you think will win this time?”
“Hmm? Um, I’ll go with the muscular guy!”
“You’re just picking him because he’s your type, aren’t you?”
“W-What are you talking about!”
Indeed, the tournament was perfectly suited to Clarissa’s taste, as Marie had suggested she get a bit of fun.
Clarissa teased Marie in a lively voice before shifting back to a serious tone to predict the next winner.
“Then, I’ll pick the redhead.”
Marie puffed her cheeks as if to say that was impossible.
Clarissa didn’t stop there; she suggested a small game.
“The winner gets 3 silver coins. How about it?”
“…You’re milking a flea’s liver.”
Marie pouted but accepted Clarissa’s proposition.
The result? The redhead Clarissa had chosen achieved a comeback victory.
He had seemed to be losing until the last moment, twisting his body to dodge the final blow from Marie’s favorite muscular man and tripping him out of the ring.
“Yay! Redhead!”
Clarissa laughed and held out her hand to Marie, who had to hand over the tiny prize from her modest wallet.
“Let’s guess the next one too.”
“Ugh, no way!”
In a completely exhilarated voice, Clarissa suggested another bet. Marie resisted, but Clarissa kept insisting.
Then, the announcer announced the next match.
“The next match… features a strong favorite for this tournament! Karpel, last tournament’s runner-up, versus the youngest participant of this tournament, 17-year-old Aryan!”
“Gasp!”
Marie swallowed hard, and Clarissa’s eyes widened simultaneously.
Clarissa almost couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to doubt it. That shining silver hair, like the moon appearing just as the voice ended…
“C-Clarissa-sama.”
Marie called out, confirming what she was thinking.
“I know,” Clarissa replied.
She bit her teeth hard, clenching both fists.
It felt like cold water had poured over her head.
Something seemed to rise from her chest and throat.
Clarissa could no longer smile.
Winning or losing no longer mattered.
She didn’t even glance to the side, focusing on Aryan, who gripped his sword tightly. She murmured lowly:
“So this is why we couldn’t meet for a while?”
‘Why…?’
She wondered if he would ever answer.
She kept asking questions to Aryan, standing high on the stage, knowing he couldn’t hear.
The unreturned answers weighed heavily on her heart. Simultaneously, all sorts of worries surfaced.
‘He hasn’t been seriously wielding a sword for long. Is this really okay?’
While Clarissa held her breath in worry and anger, the match continued.
Boom—the starting drum sounded unusually loud.
Her heartbeat sped up along with the drum.
Gripping her racing heart, Clarissa desperately followed Aryan’s every move.
His opponent was at least two heads taller than Aryan.
Every muscle in his body seemed fully developed, unlike the still-growing Aryan. The difference in sword length was obvious even before the blades met.
Despite his size, he moved with incredible speed.
He shortened his stride and swung his sword downward like a hammer.
Whoosh! The sound of air being sliced was piercingly clear.
Aryan lifted both arms and barely blocked the heavy blade.
Unlike his relatively calm opponent, Aryan stepped back, sweat streaming as he struggled.
As Aryan hurriedly readjusted his stance, the man took the opportunity to swing upward at his torso.
No…
Clarissa couldn’t bear to watch.
She bit her lips hard, squeezing her eyes shut.
But even closed, the screams from the crowd, the harmony of clashing blades, and the intensity of their battle were impossible to ignore.
Clang! Snap!
The sounds, like air being torn apart, repeated relentlessly.
“Hah!”
“Ugh!”
Indistinct sounds bounced everywhere.
Each time the large man’s booming voice reached her ears, Clarissa clenched her fists, fearing his sword had grazed Aryan.
Time felt eternal. Finally, a thud! echoed.
“Waaah!”
A roar filled the arena.
Marie grabbed Clarissa’s sleeve and bounced up and down.
“Wow! Did you see that, Clarissa-sama? Aryan-sama just—!”
Unable to resist, Clarissa peeked slightly, seeing Marie’s grin stretching almost to her ears.
From Marie’s sparkling eyes, it didn’t seem like Aryan had lost.
Still stunned, Clarissa asked slowly, hesitant:
“D-Did he win?”
Marie, puzzled by Clarissa’s trembling voice, asked:
“Huh? Didn’t you see?”
Clarissa couldn’t even answer that. She held her still-pounding heart, taking a deep sigh before looking up to find Aryan.
But all she could catch was his back as he turned away.
Unease rose again. Unable to bear it any longer, she pressed Marie for information.
“Is he hurt?”
“Uh… I’m not sure.”
“You didn’t even look properly?!”
Clarissa’s worry was overwhelming.
She couldn’t stay seated any longer and got up.
“C-Clarissa-sama! Where are you going?”
Even as Marie’s startled voice tried to grab her, Clarissa hurried on.
She felt she couldn’t do anything until she confirmed his safety.