Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Duel at the Banquet
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The swordsmanship tournament, as the most popular event, was held over seven days with five matches each day.
The stadium was already packed with spectators.
“Winner! Romeo Bascal!”
Roy was the victor of the final match on the fifth day.
However, even after his opponent admitted defeat and left the arena, Roy didn’t budge from his spot.
He picked up the sword his opponent had dropped and headed to the front row of the spectator seats, which had a clear view of the arena.
Propping his chin on his hand, he grinned and spoke to Juliet.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
Before Roy approached and spoke, Juliet had been staring blankly at the people leaving the stadium.
“Huh? What?”
Roy’s eyebrow arched in dissatisfaction.
“You should praise me for winning!”
She could almost see a tail swishing behind his back.
“Pfft.”
Juliet glanced at the bracket and burst out laughing.
Ah, whatever. At this point, what did any of it matter?
The opponent Roy had just disarmed and forced to concede was Fabian, the winner of this tournament in her previous life.
Just as he demanded, Juliet patted his head.
“Alright. You did great.”
In the original timeline, neither Jude nor Roy should have participated in this swordsmanship tournament. Perhaps because of that, Fabian hadn’t won.
Juliet was glad she hadn’t bet money on him.
‘Hm?’
Mid-laugh, Juliet felt a certain gaze.
Lately, she’d been sensing these unidentified stares more and more frequently.
She looked around, but didn’t spot anyone suspicious...
Instead, she caught sight of someone slipping out of the stadium.
“Wait!”
Juliet hurriedly called out to the man walking ahead.
“Jude!”
But he didn’t even glance back—he just strode away.
“Wait! Jude!”
Juliet chased after him without giving up.
Fortunately, the crowd blocked his path, allowing her to grab his hand.
“Jude!”
Jude stopped and whipped around.
“Yes. What is it, Lady?”
Even as their eyes met, Jude showed no surprise.
His expression was far from pleased, too.
Juliet wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
“Jude, are you mad at me?”
“Mad...?!”
Jude’s face twisted.
He looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath, then stared straight at Juliet again.
“You abandoned us all, Lady! You even deceived Master!
Do you know how much we...!”
“...”
“I’m really sorry, Jude.”
“I thought you and I were like real siblings!”
Only then did Juliet realize Jude was hurt far more than she’d thought.
With a bitter smile, she patted the head of the man who towered over her, as he sniffled.
“How’s Sir Cain?”
Juliet still felt guilty toward Sir Cain.
She’d had to shake off the Swordmaster to escape the ducal residence, but she had deceived the man who trusted her and slipped him a drug...
“Yes, Master is doing well.”
Jude glanced sideways, then lowered his voice.
“...He worries about you a lot. He’ll be glad to hear you’re safe.”
After chattering on like that for a while, Jude suddenly came to his senses, pouted, and turned away brusquely.
“Now that I’ve seen your face, that’s enough.”
“You’re just leaving like this?”
“Yes, take care.”
Jude hesitated a moment, then stalked off stiffly.
Milan, Roy’s fellow knight who’d been waiting at a distance, looked back and forth between Jude and Juliet with an incredulous expression. When their eyes met, he gave a quick bow.
Milan waited for Jude to approach, then smirked and nudged him.
“Hey, you crying?”
“Who’s crying?!”
*
She’d expected something grand from the breeding festival, but in truth, it didn’t seem much different from the capital’s social scene.
Juliet felt oddly disappointed yet relieved by the familiarity. The banquets held every day were no different from those in the capital’s high society.
Duke Carlyle felt the same.
He never spoke to her when others might see.
Juliet sensed her own subtle disappointment.
‘He really never changes. Neither do I.’
Just as that evening’s banquet seemed to end peacefully, an unexpected spark ignited.
‘Roy?’
Juliet suddenly saw Roy approaching someone.
“I hear Your Grace is quite skilled with the sword.”
The banquet hall’s atmosphere turned icy in an instant at Roy’s abrupt action.
A duel was nothing new—just a typical banquet diversion.
Except...
“And?”
The problem was that Roy had addressed Duke Carlyle—the young duke of the North, famed as the youngest Swordmaster.
Roy drove the wedge home with a grin.
“How about it? Would you grant me the honor of a lesson?”
“What?”
“Who?”
“A duel? Sparring?”
Murmurs spread through the drunken crowd.
‘No way.’
Juliet stared at Roy in shock.
Since the participants were knights from noble houses rather than professional gladiators, the tournament swords were slightly blunted compared to live blades.
They couldn’t cause fatal wounds, but limbs could still be severed.
“Roy!”
Juliet wanted to ask if he’d lost his mind.
But before she could grab him, Roy strode forward.
“You won’t refuse, will you, Your Grace?”
Even for a Lycanthrope with superior physical abilities to humans, beating Lennox Carlyle at swordplay was impossible.
It wouldn’t matter if it were a blunted sword or even a wooden one.
“Sounds like a fine proposal!”
Clueless spectators egged him on, oblivious to the stakes.
“It’ll make for good entertainment.”
“Should be fun.”
‘He won’t accept.’ Juliet bit her lip.
Her gaze had unconsciously shifted to Lennox. His gaze, over Roy’s shoulder, was fixed on her.
He hated drawing swords on the smooth banquet floor for mere spectacle, outside a proper training ground. Unknowingly, Juliet stared at him with desperate intensity.
‘Lennox wouldn’t fall for such childish provocation...’
But the next moment, Lennox smiled, shattering her expectations. He bent down and picked up a sword.
“Do you even know how to hold a sword, Prince?”
**
“Th-then we’ll follow convention for the rules.”
A noble, suddenly roped into judging the impromptu duel, spoke cautiously.
“By convention” meant continuing until one conceded or was incapacitated.
But sensing something ominous, he repeated himself to the two men who had drawn their swords.
“No fatal injuries!
You both understand, right?”
Neither seemed to care about such rules.
Clang!
Their swords clashed lightly a few times before parting.
Clang!
They traded casual strikes without much seriousness, making Juliet wonder if she was overreacting.
The crowd just seemed intrigued by the spectacle of famous figures crossing blades. They all thought themselves lucky.
But the next instant.
Clang!
“!”
Slash.
Few witnessed exactly what happened.
Roy’s sword flew toward the duke’s left side, and the duke’s blade—aimed reflexively at his throat—veered urgently off course as blood sprayed like a fountain.
Roy clutched his face.
“Kyaaah!”
The banquet hall erupted into chaos with the chilling scream.
People shrieked in shock.
Most were devout, wealthy nobles far removed from swordplay.
“Roy!”
Juliet shot to her feet and rushed to him.
Her face paled as she checked his injury.
“You’re bleeding!”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t!
Blood wouldn’t stop from the right side of Roy’s eye.
Juliet pulled out her handkerchief to staunch it in the meantime, as commotion spread through the crowd.
“H-healer!”
“Priest! Call a healing priest!”
Some summoned healing priests; others screamed and fainted at the blood splattered on the hall floor.
The spectators who’d eagerly fanned the flames for fun moments ago sobered up at the sight of blood. Or perhaps they panicked because the injured was Catia’s royalty.
Likely the latter.
Duels traditionally carried no liability, but his status made vision loss a major incident.
People screamed in panic. Some fled to avoid trouble.
Juliet’s white handkerchief was soaked red, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop.
She grew worried at Roy’s increasingly pale complexion.
Yet Roy calmly overlaid his hand over hers, pressing the handkerchief.
“There’s a silver lining to getting hurt.”
He murmured slyly.
“You’re saying that now?!”
Juliet snapped in disbelief, but Roy grinned shamelessly.
“I’m really fine. It doesn’t even hurt much.”
Juliet bit her lip.
Blood was gushing, yet he spoke so casually. If only she had healing power instead of magic.
‘If it were Dahlia—’
She’d have healed this in the blink of an eye.
“We’ll examine the wound first!”
Healing priests rushed over and took Roy from her.
As they removed the handkerchief, the injury was revealed.
It was a long gash but not deep—yet the bleeding persisted, keeping Roy from opening his eye fully.
The eyelid seemed torn.
At least it wasn’t the eye itself. Juliet sighed in relief. A slight miss could’ve cost his sight. Small mercies.
As she stepped back for the priests to treat him, Juliet paused.
“...?”
Roy, eyes closed and submitting to treatment, still gripped her wrist tightly.
“Roy, let go...”
“Just stay.”
Roy whispered low and quick.
‘Why?’
Puzzled, Juliet then noticed the gaze she’d felt earlier. Looking up instinctively, she locked eyes with Lennox Carlyle.
She couldn’t guess how long he’d been watching.
He stood aloof amid the pandemonium, seemingly uninvolved.
The only one not fleeing in panic.
Blood still stained the tip of his sword.
“Lennox...”
The man glared coldly at her with his flawless red eyes, then wordlessly exited the banquet hall.
Forgotten Juliet