The Stolen Panties
“By the way, what are you doing here?”
Owen blinked as though startled by all the eyes turning toward him, then, only after a beat, seemed to remember why he had come. In his usual lazy drawl, he said, “The captain said to get you.”
“An errand the moment you’re back from leave? Honestly, why did you even come to the order at this hour? You’re supposed to be on leave until tomorrow morning.”
“Just because. My heart was hurting so much I figured something must’ve happened.”
“…….”
Michelle immediately panicked at Owen’s remark about his heart hurting and started fretting that he should go see the imperial physician, but Sylvia, who could guess the reason, only looked away and pretended she hadn’t heard a thing.
Owen looked down at her, then tipped his head. “Well, it’s probably nothing. Go see the captain. Sounds like he’s looking for you about your assignment.”
At that, Michelle shot the men, including Wilden, a single dissatisfied look, then flicked Sylvia a reassuring glance before quickly tidying up the training yard. After that, she shoved a fist toward the male knights and left with her group.
Meanwhile, Sylvia’s jaw was growing redder by the second, and Wilden, who had asked her to spar, was flushed with embarrassment over how things had gone so badly wrong.
No matter how much the knight order emphasized a horizontal relationship and discouraged nobles from ranking one another above or below, Sylvia was still the Appleton Ducal family’s only daughter.
“Are you okay?”
Sylvia had no particular desire to answer Wilden’s formulaic concern, so she only shrugged. Even with her indifferent response, he stepped closer, wearing a deeply apologetic expression.
“I guess the others got sensitive. Michelle’s been getting on our nerves for a while now, like she’s always annoyed by us.”
Whether that was true or not, saying something like that the second Michelle was gone made him look pathetic. Not wanting to agree with such nonsense, Sylvia backed away as if withdrawing from the whole thing.
“Sorry, but I should get going. My jaw hurts a bit. And it seems my support was pretty lacking for you all this time, so next time you’d be better off asking someone else. Though I’m not sure whether there’s anyone who can actually satisfy you.”
“Hah. What, are you bragging that you’re top-tier or something?”
Still too drunk on the heat of the moment to understand what was going on, Jafael grumbled that line under his breath.
Sylvia glared at him with cold eyes, and Wilden shifted his body slightly to wedge himself between her and Jafael. At his pleading expression, as if begging her to let it go just once, Sylvia finally sighed and decided to step back.
Not because she felt sorry for Wilden, but because fighting with these idiots would only cost her in the end.
As she retreated without a word, Wilden visibly relaxed in relief. He gestured wildly to Jafael that if what had happened to her jaw ever reached his father’s ears, he’d be finished, but Jafael still couldn’t drop his sour attitude and had to have the last word: “Like the Appleton Duke would care anyway.”
Sylvia walked away with long, firm strides, as though she hadn’t heard him. Owen, who had been standing beside her and watching the whole mess unfold, followed after her without saying anything else.
In the darkening evening streets, her brisk footsteps rang out, followed by Owen’s easy, unhurried pace.
Sylvia tried speeding up, irritated by the broad length of his stride that only made him take a single step for every two or three of hers, but Owen kept following her to the end as though he had no real business at all.
What do you want?
She stubbornly refused to turn around and face him. For whatever reason, she simply didn’t want to act so familiar with him right now. She didn’t know why—but as she walked, she gradually realized the reason.
She felt a little hurt.
Because of Owen, who had stood behind her in silence as though her situation was none of his concern.
If it had been Heston, he definitely would’ve stepped in.
And with that, she found herself quietly comparing Owen to Heston.
If they had only been friends of friends, that kind of comparison would never have crossed her mind. But they had shared bodies, even if only for one night, hadn’t they? That night, Owen had been astonishingly delicate, and for some reason he had felt closer to her than anyone else in this world.
The eyes meeting, the breath mingling, that large hand settling firmly at the nape of her neck.
They had barely exchanged any words that night, and none of what was said had truly meant anything, yet Sylvia had somehow fallen into the illusion that they had spoken at great length.
But it seemed Owen didn’t see it that way. He was still just a spectator to Sylvia’s life, a tourist who stopped by, looked around, and moved on.
That realization left her with a strange sense of loss, and before she knew it, she was sinking into a sadness she couldn’t shake.
Even after they reached the carriage, Owen still hadn’t said what he wanted. But when Sylvia reached for the bell hanging on it to call the coachman, he gently caught her arm.
Her body turned halfway around, and the bell gave a short, jangling ring overhead. Owen seemed lost in thought for a moment before rolling his eyes toward her.
“Come to think of it, you looked pretty much fine that time.”
It was such an abrupt remark that Sylvia didn’t understand it at first. When she still looked puzzled, Owen tipped his chin toward the place they had come from.
“I mean when you were rolling around on the floor because of those guys. You didn’t seem to feel a thing. Must’ve hurt, and it probably bruised your pride pretty badly too.”
“You told me not to feel it.”
And there had even been threats before that.
Sylvia muttered it so quietly he couldn’t hear. But that wasn’t what he meant, apparently, because Owen continued in a thoughtful murmur.
“So being hurt in a situation like that is worse than the pain itself, huh……”
He said it so offhandedly that Sylvia didn’t catch it properly. She was too distracted by the coachman in the distance, who had finally heard the bell and was hurrying over in a fluster.
“What did you say?”
She asked belatedly, but by then Owen had already sorted out whatever he’d been thinking. He shook his head as if it meant nothing, then released her and, without any parting words, turned away on his long legs and sauntered off.
“What was that supposed to mean?”
She clicked her tongue at Owen’s retreating back, as enigmatic as some great mystery, then climbed into the carriage.
Whatever he’d been trying to say, she decided she didn’t really want to know.
* * *
Still, she should have figured something out then and there. Sylvia had badly underestimated Owen Summers’s sheer lunacy.
Owen Summers had already been insane from the inside out, and he was absolutely the kind of man who could show it whenever he pleased.
The next day came.
When she woke in the morning, her jaw was even worse than the day before. The expensive salve infused with divine power had already been used up wiping away the traces of the night she’d spent with Owen, so there was no choice but to slap on a large bandage, eyesore or not.
“That’s bad.”
The white bandage stuck all the way down to just below her lip, making it uncomfortable every time she moved her jaw. Anyone who saw it would probably ask at once who she had fought with to end up like this.
She might have been able to improve the fit if she’d taken a little more time, but she didn’t have any. Today was a dawn training day. If she kept going like this, she’d be late, so Sylvia hurried onto the carriage.
But whether she’d misread the time or what, when she actually arrived at the training yard, there wasn’t a soul in sight. She stepped outside to check whether the location had changed, and then saw a crowd gathered far off in the distance.
Of course, it didn’t take long to realize it had absolutely nothing to do with training.
“Damn it, what the hell did I even do! Is this because of yesterday? Who the hell do you think you are, you bastard? Fuck!”
The shouting voice of a man boomed through the air.
A fight? Since the higher-ups placed such importance on teamwork, fights within the knight order were strictly forbidden.
And not even outside, but someone was actually brawling near the training yard? What kind of lunatic was that?
Well, not really my problem.
Since none of the people she knew would be likely to start a fight like this, Sylvia looked on with cool detachment, stretching her neck between the crowd to get a better look.
But when she saw the blond head straddling some disgracefully sprawled man on the ground, casually gripping his collar with one hand, she had no choice but to stiffen.
Isn’t that… Owen?
His fallen hair covered his eyes, but that distinctive expressionless face was easy enough to make out. The man pinned beneath him thrashed with all his might, as though being made into a spectacle was humiliating him, yet Owen didn’t seem to expend even the slightest effort as he effortlessly kept him under control.
“Hk.”
Then the man’s breathing was cut off, and he jerked his head back with a pained gasp.
That’s……
Thanks to that, his face came into view. Sylvia had only been half sure because she was seeing him through the crowd, but she soon recognized him as Jafael, the knight who had kept picking on her yesterday.
“Ah! Let go!”
“Apologize.”
Even at the man’s shout, Owen never lost his composure. Sylvia was the only one who felt confused. Was Owen doing this right now because of her?
Because of yesterday?
No, this was too much! What she’d felt was only that Owen had been so completely indifferent in that moment, standing there like some stranger. She had never wanted, never even imagined, revenge like this.
“Apologize for what, you fuck!”
The man’s eyes gleamed with contempt. Apparently born without fear, he didn’t seem to be all that intimidated even by the monstrous difference in strength.
As Sylvia worried, What if he just says my name out loud over there? Owen tapped Jafael’s head a few times and spoke with maddening casualness.
“Apologize for stealing my panties.”
My what?
At that, Sylvia, the crowd, and even Jafael’s brain all seemed to stop at once.
What did he steal?