Marriage Scam (1)
[Master.]
'Huh?'
Tuon's dining etiquette was strict, but once he'd roughly mastered the use of utensils, she urged him—with a glance at Armed—to eat, declaring that "focusing solely on manners while neglecting one's company is an even greater breach of courtesy." And until now, she'd maintained silence, only to suddenly send a telepathic message.
⟨ It's about time you stepped in. ⟩
'You mean that Mazhar Gabi guy?'
Tuon's blade vibrated subtly. That had to be her affirmation.
Mazhar Gabi had barged in out of nowhere, spouting his oily nonsense. Armed's expression was souring in real time. But hadn't she just chased him off herself moments ago? If she could handle it on her own, was it right for a guest like him to butt in uninvited?
'I'm just a guest here. Wouldn't stepping in without the host's request be rude?'
⟨ Trust in me. A true knight steps forth when the virtuous face peril. ⟩
Kriel hesitated for a moment. Was Armed truly in peril? But by his reckoning, she was a good person, and right now, she was in a bit of a bind. He rose from his seat.
"First, let me ask: who exactly is this man you secretly invited? We're not formally engaged, true, but it's improper for a grown man and woman to meet in secret, away from prying eyes."
Armed's expression grew icier by the second. She half-considered pulling out her staff and blasting him. But that would sever ties with the Gabi family for good. She'd wanted to head him off before he pulled any more idiotic stunts—by parading a proper fiancé.
That's when Kriel suddenly interjected.
"Forgive the late introduction, Young Master Mazhar Gabi. I'm the wandering knight, Kriel."
"A wandering knight?"
Mazhar's face clouded with doubt. Mages often hired knights for protection, but someone of Armed's stature had no need. For one, her own prowess: she could pulverize most monsters before they even got close. For another, her position: hiring guards and negotiating pay was work for underlings. As the eldest daughter of a count's house and head of the academy, she surely had minions to handle contracts.
And calling in some wandering knight—not even a proper knight from a knightly order—was another issue. Knights in name only, most of them were just armed thugs with swords.
Still, having been introduced, etiquette demanded a response.
"Pleased to meet you. Kriel, was it? As you know, I'm Mazhar, third son of the Gabi house. What business do you have dining with my fiancée?"
Hmm. Kriel mentally upgraded his assessment of Mazhar. Maintaining composure after hitting the guy with informal speech right off the bat. The over-the-top courtship might even be an act—it hadn't been long since she'd shooed him away, and here he was, worming his way back in.
"Seems there's some misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?"
"Young Master Mazhar, the woman you claim as your fiancée—"
Kriel extended his left hand, pulling Armed's shoulder toward him. She blinked in surprise—'Huh?'—but didn't resist, nestling into his embrace.
"—is already engaged. To me."
Armed awkwardly reached out, looping her arm around Kriel's neck with a hesitant pause. It was stiff compared to his natural poise, but with her cheeks flushed red, the hesitation sold better as lovers' bashfulness than a fake engagement's awkwardness.
Kriel inwardly praised her perfect improv and turned to Mazhar.
"...Ha?"
Mazhar's face twisted—not in rage, but bewilderment.
Mazhar Gabi's mind wasn't brilliant enough to stand out among his siblings, but it was sharp enough to earn him genius labels. Meaning he had the wits to gauge the pressure he was applying and Armed's likely countermeasures.
His face hardened into a stoic mask. "Playing it like this, are you, Lady Ket? The only ones who can fund your academy's material needs are the Gabi merchants."
"Doesn't the academy seek intellect over coin, Young Master Gabi?"
Mazhar turned to Kriel, his eyes cool and appraising—not personal grudge, but merchant's calculation. Sizing up Kriel's worth.
"Kriel, you said. You—"
He chose his words carefully. All he knew was a dubious "wandering knight" title and a name. Knights prized honor, generally speaking.
'He looks less like a mere knight and more like a Dark Knight leading abyssal hordes...'
He couldn't judge on vague hunches. Mazhar pressed on with his original tack.
"Do you truly believe you can make Lady Ket happy?"
An unexpected question.
"You might call it brazen, but I'm rich. 'What's a third son got?' you say. 'It's daddy's money, not yours.'"
His words self-deprecated, but his posture was confident. Kriel upped the odds that Mazhar's fool act was theater.
"That's true now. But if Lady Ket and I wed, elevating my house to noble blood? Father would name me heir. Then, as head of the Gabi merchants, I'd support her without stint."
Mazhar's vision was crystal clear—mutual benefit for him and Armed, his conviction rang through.
"I can back her lifelong pursuit of research without limits. And you?"
Kriel pondered. This guy's no brainless chaebol third-gen from novels or dramas. He's sharp.
Think, Kriel. Think! A perfect counter to shatter his logic...
"Not to belittle your wandering knight gig, but Lady Ket's research guzzles gold. Can you back it?"
Kriel reflected on his identity anew. He was a knight. Romance itself stemmed from medieval chivalric tales, didn't it? If Mazhar scoffed 'Love? Please. Name your price,' Kriel could just grin and pity the fool who didn't get love's beauty.
"Then let me ask you this, Young Master Gabi. Can you love Armed?"
It felt like the air had thickened, choking him.
Both Armed and Mazhar struggled to keep up with Kriel's sudden pivot.
Mazhar regained his merchant's poise. "What's to stop love from blooming in a political marriage? With her talents, of course I could love her."
"I didn't get engaged to Armed for her abilities or background."
Kriel shot back instantly, reciting his prepped backstory—carefully worded to skirt knightly lies.
"The first time I met Armed, it was on the battlefield. Her magic was nothing like today, and I had no clue she was a count's daughter."
Pause for effect. Crucially, it was all true. Back then, he'd pegged her as just a mercenary mage.
"But when I decided to get engaged? None of that mattered. Only what she wanted."
The decision had come about three minutes ago—right when Tuon prodded him. Helping her dodge this mess temporarily? That was all that counted. True enough.
"Young Master Gabi. Can you swear it here before the Six Precepts? That even if she were just Armed—no Ket, no title—you'd act the same?"
A title-less Armed meant nothing to Mazhar Gabi.
He couldn't answer easily.
"I could."
Living point. 'Act the same' meant different things for him and Mazhar. For Mazhar, it was 'marry her.' For Kriel, 'play fake fiancé for the Ket girl.'
Mazhar, scheming for status from the start, couldn't affirm lightly. But Kriel, just helping a friend? He could swear it a hundred times.
Somewhere, a horned horse-head grumbled 'Ugh, is this chivalry?' but Kriel ignored it. If jumping in for a friend in need wasn't knightly, what was?
Impressed by his own novel-drama flair, he aimed to drop the mic.