18
18
Ten years ago.
Pendragon Ducal Residence.
"Waaah..."
Priscilla's eyes sparkled at the splendid garden.
Following her halabeoji around, she had traveled to many places despite her young age.
But she had never seen a place as beautiful as this one.
It wasn't just the appearance.
Somehow, she even began to feel that it was a place of destiny.
And.
It didn't take long for her to realize that this thought was not an illusion.
Just as she was looking at the lake in the garden, a boy who seemed to be around her age spoke to her.
"...I am Lancelot. Who are you?"
"...Huh...?"
For a moment, the young girl felt the illusion that time had stopped.
Lancelot's appearance reflected in her eyes against the backdrop of the lake was truly—
'A prince...?'
To the point where the thought that he was her destined partner arose naturally within her.
The prince of the lake from the fairy tales her mother, who had tragically passed away in an accident, used to read to her often when she was alive.
If such a prince actually existed, wouldn't it surely be this boy?
Such a thought spontaneously crossed her mind.
But Priscilla did not get greedy.
'Because I am a commoner...'
That she was able to enter and look around this grand mansion thanks to her halabeoji—
the young girl had long since realized this, so she tried to keep her place.
But she couldn't.
Because he kept talking to her.
"...I want to know your name."
"Ah... I'm, I'm called Priscilla..."
"...Speak comfortably. Since our ages look about the same."
"Ah... okay..."
"...Do you like the lake?"
"Yeah, it's so pretty..."
Even more so because he was there.
No, he was even more beautiful.
"...Then let's watch it together from that boat over there."
"Together...? Yeah, I'd love to!"
On this day, Priscilla did not see it.
That Lancelot's brow was slightly furrowed.
She simply thought he was just a bit taciturn and that he was naturally like that.
But seven years later.
"...Bathory."
She ended up seeing that he was a person capable of smiling warmly.
In truth, she had already known.
That the reason Lancelot spoke to her in front of the lake that day was because his father, Arthur, had ordered him to do so.
Although he had been taciturn all this time, the reason he still showed her consideration was...
'...Because of my halabeoji.'
The truth she had known all along yet turned away from.
However, due to a certain young lady who suddenly appeared.
In the end, Priscilla could no longer pretend not to know and turn away.
###
"Are you okay...?"
Tak-!
Lancelot roughly slapped Priscilla's hand away.
Because of whom did things turn out like this, and with what nerve was she asking if he was okay?
Lancelot's brow furrowed deeply in displeasure.
Even though he gave her such blatant cold treatment.
"I'm sorry, because of me..."
Rather, Priscilla apologized.
"...Do you even know what you did wrong?"
"H-Huh...?"
"...I asked if you even know what you did wrong."
"Th-That..."
"Ha...!"
Lancelot let out a scoffing laugh.
There was no way she would know.
If she knew, she would have already left this house following Master-nim long ago.
Ever since the Sword Saint left, not a single thing had gone right.
Arthur's attitude, which had always been strict yet kind, completely transformed.
His swordsmanship, which used to improve rapidly day by day, also stagnated.
But it was fine.
—Cheer up, Lancelot! You'll be able to reconcile with Duke Pendragon!
—You're already a Swordmaster. That's probably why it's hard to feel the difference! Lancelot, you're already sufficiently amazing!
Because Bathory had always comforted and cheered him on.
But things couldn't stay like this.
—Priscilla-yang is so pretty!
—You said she's Lancelot's fiancée, right? You look great together!
Because Bathory's misunderstanding grew larger day by day.
Lancelot wanted to marry, at the very least, a young lady of a ducal family equal to his own house.
Or a member of the imperial family.
Yet at a young age, he was told to enter into marriage with a commoner woman.
—Lancelot, Sword Saint-nim and Priscilla-yang are by no means trivial commoners.
Because he had a bad relationship with the late Emperor, despite being a hero who could receive ducal-level treatment.
He simply continues to live under the status of a commoner.
Arthur had explained it like that.
However, Lancelot could not easily accept it.
'...That's just an excuse.'
No matter how much he disliked the late Emperor, starting from basic things, his very lifestyle would change.
Why refuse the position of a Duke, which was not even a Baron or Viscount?
That was why Lancelot had initially looked down on the Sword Saint.
But.
'Th-This is... real swordsmanship...!'
The sword trajectory the Sword Saint demonstrated just once was overwhelmingly wondrous.
The thought that he was on an entirely different level naturally arose.
Therefore.
Lancelot decided to obey Arthur's words.
To become the Sword Saint's disciple, and to marry Priscilla.
However.
In the end, Lancelot grew exhausted.
The Sword Saint's harsh training, and most of his remaining time.
Had to be spent forcibly together with Priscilla.
He hated that repeating daily routine so much.
Hadn't he even become the youngest Swordmaster?
By this point, it would be reasonable to praise him and lessen the intensity of his training.
But day by day, the Sword Saint's training only grew even higher in intensity.
'I also have to separately receive further education as the family successor from now on...'
Yet the time that could be considered rest was being spent with Priscilla.
'...It's exhausting.'
Physically and mentally, he was far too exhausted.
So one day.
Wanting to feel even a slight sense of liberation, he threw aside his training and rushed out to the streets alone.
There, he met Bathory for the first time.
—Ah, excuse me, I accidentally got separated from my party and lost my way... Could I ask you to guide me...?
When she first spoke to him, he thought the world had stopped.
Her fluttering pink hair, her warm green eyes that seemed as though one would fall into them.
It felt as if his suffocated chest was suddenly cleared wide open.
Therefore, Lancelot guided Bathory like a man possessed, and on the way, without realizing it, he poured out all his inner circumstances.
—Young Lord Pendragon? No wonder you didn't seem like an ordinary person!
—And to be a Swordmaster on top of that... You're really amazing!
—It must have been so hard for you... Cheer up!
Every single word of hers was a comfort.
And.
ㅡ Ah, I am called Bathory Sirius!
From the moment Bathory introduced herself as Lady Sirius.
'...My woman is Bathory.'
Lancelot thought like that.
The fact that she came from an orphan background did not matter.
Unlike Priscilla, who continuously remained a commoner, Bathory had received the choice of destiny and elevated herself to a noble position.
However.
There were too many competitors.
Imperial Prince Leon, Commander Michael, Next Master of the Magic Tower Loki, Saint Yudia.
Furthermore, even her three oppas had unusual gazes when looking at Bathory.
In such a situation, how could he continue to let people misunderstand that he had a fiancée?
'That's why I naturally didn't bring her along yesterday...'
Who would have thought he would be stripped of his position as the family successor because of that?
Of course, he probably hadn't actually been stripped of it.
It must be a warning telling him to give up on Bathory and get closer to Priscilla.
—Do you think that you, who failed to become the head of the family, can take Lady Sirius?
For a moment, Arthur's words came to mind.
'...Even if I don't become the family head, Bathory won't treat me any differently.'
But could he beat those competitors and take her?
To that question, he couldn't confidently answer 'yes'.
Michael's arm had been cut off, and with today's incident as a turning point, Leon would no longer be able to comfortably meet Bathory in the future, but...
There were still many formidable competitors.
In such a situation, when a dead weight like Priscilla kept getting in the way...
"...You feel good, don't you?"
Lancelot asked Priscilla coldly.
"What do you mean feel good? What are you talking about? Since you're having a hard time, naturally I..."
"Kuk-kuk... Ridiculous."
Lancelot let out a scoffing laugh as if it was laughable.
"You must have heard the news that Young Lord Freddie died as well, right?"
"Th-That's true. But why would that mean I feel good? I didn't particularly like him, but still, since he was a familiar face, I don't feel good about—"
"Ridiculous."
Lancelot cut off Priscilla's words again.
"What do you mean you don't feel good? Rather, with that guy dead, Bathory is grieving and suffering, so you're actually pleased inside, aren't you?"
"W-What are you talking about? I was never pleased...!"
"Is that so? Then why are you standing here? Why don't you hurry up and go comfort Bathory?"
"What...?"
Priscilla was ultimately left speechless.
Go comfort her?
What kind of nonsense was that?
From what she heard, Freddie had committed a crime so severe it wouldn't be strange for him to be executed, and he had died through legal procedures.
Nevertheless.
Priscilla did think that Bathory's situation was unfortunate.
Even though they weren't blood-related, she had lost a precious family member after all.
But no matter how true that was.
'You're telling me to go comfort her right now...?'
How could he say such a thing?
'Who am I suffering every single day because of...!'
As Priscilla was also a woman who loved a man, she could not harbor good feelings toward Bathory.
Anger, jealousy, and the like...
Negative emotions she had never experienced in her life surged up.
But she endured.
As time passed.
Because she realized more and more that Lancelot had been forcibly spending time with her.
'...And unlike me, Lady Sirius is a shining person.'
She understood his change of heart.
No, it couldn't even be called a change of heart.
'Because in the first place, Lancelot never loved me...'
Still, because of the affection from spending time together in their own way...
Wouldn't he look at me someday?
If Bathory chooses another man...
Won't he come to me then?
Enduring and holding on solely through that single thought.
And.
'...If Lady Sirius chooses Lancelot.'
She would be overwhelmingly sad at that time, but...
She intended to somehow accept it and leave to find her halabeoji.
'Yet how could he say these kinds of words to me...?'
Hwik-!
Priscilla immediately turned around and ran straight toward her room just like that.
Because she didn't want to show him her crying face.
At the sight of her back like that.
"...Tsk."
Lancelot clicked his tongue irritably while looking at her.
'...As expected, she was a narrow-minded woman.'
Unlike Bathory.
'Bathory...'
It was nice being able to spend time together today.
Thanks to that foolish imperial prince asking him through a servant to bring Bathory over, he was able to spend a pretty good time together with her.
But soon, displeasure had no choice but to rush in.
'...Roy Einschwert.'
Despite Roy killing her own oppa, Bathory did not seem to hate Roy.
Far from anger or hatred, rather...
'No, there's no way, I already reached a conclusion.'
Since a strange hypothesis was trying to surface again, Lancelot immediately shook his head violently.
'...It's just because Bathory is far too kind.'
Right, even though he's an enemy, it must be that she's trying to guide him down the right path.
Just like she did with himself, as well as with other men.
'But no matter what, Bathory. That guy is absolutely a no-go.'
Isn't he just a lunatic?
'Right, he's just a lunatic.'
Lancelot briefly recalled.
The moment he clashed swords with Roy.
'When I first saw him, I definitely thought he was a Grand Swordmaster...'
But having faced him directly.
'...It doesn't seem to be to that extent.'
From Roy, there was none of the overwhelming pressure felt when exchanging sword strikes with the Sword Saint.
'Could it have been a bluff...?'
The energy that erupted explosively in the banquet hall.
'If it's to that extent, I could do it too if I tried...'
Though he couldn't maintain it for long, he could also put on that level of performance.
'Now that I think carefully about it... that guy wasn't continuously emitting aura...'
Which means...
'...Is that bastard also a Swordmaster like me?'
Otherwise.
Why else would he continuously lock swords with me for so long today?
'A cunning bastard...'
He had suppressed Freddie's spirit by displaying an overwhelming momentum for a moment.
'Right, that must be it. And...'
That bastard must be suffering from the aftermath.
'Since he used that much power, it will take a long time to recover.'
The moment he reached that conclusion.
Ssiik-
The corners of Lancelot's lips curled up.
'...Trial by combat.'
Because a good idea had come to mind.
Therefore, immediately.
"...Hey, Anna."
Lancelot called Priscilla's dedicated maid.