Ivan, the Male Lead from 'I Saved the Male Lead from the Tyrant and Now He's Obsessed'
Ivan, the Male Lead from 'I Saved the Male Lead from the Tyrant and Now He's Obsessed'
Shhk. Shhk.
I'd just finished breaking down and sorting the wild Pog Veronia had hunted, using the Butcher's Sword.
"Still working hard, I see."
Lancelot's voice came from behind me.
"Ah, you're here?"
I turned at the familiar sound. Standing behind Lancelot was a young man with an unfamiliar face.
Black hair, red eyes.
Those two features alone were enough to tell me exactly who Lancelot had brought.
'Ivan.'
The male lead of the novel I'd once read, After I Saved the Male Lead From the Tyrant, He Started Obsessing?.
The protagonist who would one day face Princess Diana — the very princess I'd run away from — in direct confrontation, and carry on a blush-inducing romance with the novel's heroine.
The genius swordsman who would learn the heart and skill of a knight from Lancelot in the forest, until his father, Duke Perdes, came to retrieve him — and who would then succeed his father as head of the house.
That wild, untamed Ivan, still ignorant of human etiquette, was standing right in front of me.
He was the tragic, miserable protagonist, at least until Monica would one day save him.
The novel had described Ivan as a man whose beauty enthralled anyone who laid eyes on him.
'Well, he really is fucking handsome.'
Sharp jawline, a straight nose, and skin so dazzlingly white you'd never guess he'd grown up in the forest. Nearly 190 centimeters tall, with shoulders to match.
His proportions were absurd, and his face was tiny on top of that.
Put him in the modern world, and he'd have made it big as a movie star or a model.
He was so good-looking it didn't even make me jealous.
'The world is unfair.'
That handsome, and a genius with the sword, too?
The phrase "the Creator gave him everything" came to mind unbidden.
I'm not jealous.
Really, I'm not.
"I wanted Ivan to have a taste of your cooking, so I brought him along myself. Heh heh heh."
Lancelot smiled as he spoke.
He'd hinted before leaving on this latest outing that he might bring Ivan back with him.
'It's fine. I prepared for this.'
Ivan was definitely someone who could threaten my slow life, but as long as I didn't get deeply entangled with him, nothing would fall apart.
After all, Ivan would be summoned to House Perdes around the time Diana ascended as imperial princess, and that was where the novel's real story kicked off.
When Lancelot first told me about Ivan, I'd panicked a little, scared by all the ordeals he was fated to suffer. But the more I thought about it,
'I just keep a reasonable distance and pretend not to know him when he goes off to House Perdes. Easy.'
Yeah.
Even if he showed up here, as long as I kept things just awkward enough, there wouldn't be any reason to get involved.
"Nice to meet y—"
"Is that... don't tell me that's Master's sword?"
Before I could even finish my greeting, Ivan's eyes locked onto the blade I'd been using to break down the wild Pog.
"You mean Sir Lancelot's sword? No. This one's mine, actually?"
It really was mine now.
I mean, yes, he gave it to me as a gift, but still.
The one who receives a thing is the one who owns it, isn't that how it works?
"I'm asking whether that's the Sword of the Lake."
Whoa. That look was murderous.
I glanced at Lancelot.
He averted his eyes.
So he hadn't told him in advance?
'Yeah... can't exactly blame him. How do you admit you gave your most treasured blade to some cook, and that the man turned it into a butcher's knife? I wouldn't be able to say it either.'
A knight of Lancelot's caliber had his pride.
"It isn't anymore."
"Anymore?"
"Right. I gave it a new name. The Butcher's Sword. It actually cuts through bone surprisingly well. Watch..."
I brought the Butcher's Sword down in clean, heavy chops through the wild Pog's bones.
"A legendary blade that doesn't even dull after that..."
"You bastard—how dare you do that to Master's sword!"
"I told you, it's mine."
"I won't forgive this! Draw your sword at once! I'll repay the disgrace you've brought upon my master myself!"
Ivan's voice was hot with fury.
No, I just said it's mine — what is wrong with this guy?
As long as the receiver uses a gift well, isn't that enough?
I looked at Lancelot again.
Catching my gaze, he stepped toward Ivan.
"Ivan, that's enough. I gave it to Sir Lucas as a gift. How the recipient chooses to use it is his affair. I gave it knowing full well what might happen, so enough..."
"Stay out of this, Master!"
"Wha—what?"
"I will restore your honor for you!"
That honor... I'm pretty sure you're the one wrecking it.
Lancelot stepped back, looking genuinely wounded.
He shot me a look that could only mean, "Nothing I can do."
'Guess I've got no choice either.'
I could read it right off his lips.
He was a bit of a hothead in the novel, too.
There had been a few scenes where Monica got slightly hurt, and he'd completely overreact, storming off to punish the ones responsible while she tried to hold him back.
'In the novel, it felt kind of romantic.'
Experiencing it firsthand was a little different.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it only seemed romantic because I'd been seeing it through Monica's rose-tinted point of view.
"Is there really any need to fight? Word getting around that you crossed swords with a cook won't do you any favors."
"I've already heard you're a knight! You put that 'Knight Restaurant' sign up because a knight runs this place, didn't you?"
Tch.
He didn't look like he was about to back down.
If he was going to go that far, I didn't see a way out.
"I've been out of active service for quite some time now. Are you sure that's all right?"
"What does that matter?"
"A rumor about you beating a retired knight who's just idling about doesn't sound very impressive either."
"Is that a tactic to worm your way out?"
"Not exactly."
I'd just put up a decent fight and then lose.
It seemed Ivan hadn't fully matured yet.
I'd heard he reached the level of Master in a single year, but
'From the looks of it, he's not at Master yet.'
Then this should be manageable.
If I fought well enough and then lost at a moment that let him save face, he'd be satisfied and wouldn't keep clinging on.
"Fine. A sparring match with wooden swords, then?"
I looked at Lancelot as I asked.
"Yes. No need to use live steel for a spar."
Even Lancelot chimed in, and Ivan finally gave a reluctant nod.
"...Fine. Understood."
I called out to Andrea, who was tidying the storehouse in the back.
"Andrea! Grab two wooden swords from the outside storehouse in the back!"
"Understood!"
In a gust of wind, Andrea appeared holding two wooden swords.
They'd gone untouched for months and were thickly coated in dust.
"Hoo."
Dust went flying everywhere.
Ugh.
I tossed one of the wooden swords to Ivan.
"An elf...?"
Ivan caught the sword, his eyes locked onto Andrea in surprise.
"Why is an elf..."
"What are you staring at? Never seen an elf before?"
The reply that came was Andrea's icy voice.
When the other party wasn't a customer, that frost was still very much intact.
"You done cleaning inside?"
"Of course. I finished everything while some people were out here playing with their friends."
"Then you and Sir Lancelot can act as referees. If the fight gets too heated, step in and stop it."
"Understood."
Andrea walked over with heavy steps and stood beside Lancelot.
Ivan stared intently at her the whole way.
"Remarkable. A restaurant that even has an elf... I can see why Master wanted me to come here at least once."
He murmured to himself, then nodded as if coming to a decision.
"But I cannot tolerate the insult to my master."
"Think whatever you like."
I raised the wooden sword.
It had been so long since I'd sparred with a person that I wasn't sure I could do it well.
Ingredients, on the other hand, I'd faced plenty of.
Tuu, wild Pog, crocodile from the swamps that tasted like chicken, wyverns, the megalor deer with its impressive antlers and venison...
I'd gone up against all kinds of monsters and animals that could be used as ingredients, but sparring with a person? It had been almost two years.
Or three years.
The last time I sparred with Commander Luke was three years ago.
It really had been too long.
I wasn't sure I could pull it off, but somehow, it would work out.
"Let's keep it short and end it quickly."
The moment he finished speaking, Ivan charged at me.
He moved fast with his sword, and it was genuinely menacing.
The Quick Sword I'd read about in the novel.
A style that rapidly stabbed at the enemy's vitals to neutralize them.
That sword had toppled every foe who stood in its path — even the iron-blood knight Andy Warmeiden had fallen to it.
Right now, that same Quick Sword, still rough and unpolished, was aimed straight at my chest.
'Slower than I expected.'
Well, he's still growing.
I swung my sword to parry his attack.
He was a talented swordsman; he'd be able to handle this much.
Crack!
"Gahk!"
Ivan's body was flung three steps backward the moment our swords met.
"Impressive..."
He looked at me with surprise.
I was even more surprised than he was.
'I hit way too hard.'
I'd misjudged my strength.
More than that, though—he couldn't even withstand that?
I'd hit with what I thought was a moderate amount of force.
It was a little disappointing, honestly.
Commander Luke, or even Depo, a senior knight in the order, could have taken it without an issue.
Maybe it was because he hadn't been training long. Or maybe he just lacked real combat experience.
"I'll go faster next time."
He vanished from my sight in an instant.
No use trying to follow with my eyes.
This was where instinct took over.
Clack!
"Gahk!"
I caught the sword that was coming down toward my shoulder.
Good.
Letting him land a clean hit right away would make it look too obvious.
If you're going to lose, you have to do it dramatically so the other guy actually believes it.
Who enjoys a victory that's just handed to them?
Fight on relatively even footing for a while, then gradually get pushed back, slowly cornered, and finally concede a decisive blow. Defeat.
That was my script.
'Now if he keeps pressing his attack, I'll deflect a few more and then let one through...'
But the next attack never came.
What gives?
I turned my head to look where Ivan should have been standing.
"Gghh..."
Ivan was clutching the hand that held the sword.
His wrist was bent at an unnatural angle.
"Huh?"
Even at a glance, it was clear the bone was out of place.
"Wait, don't tell me..."
When I struck earlier... had I hit his wrist bone instead of his wooden sword?
Ivan had been so focused on attacking that he'd failed to protect his own wrist.
"Tch."
Not how I'd planned it, but honestly, this worked out fine.
With this win, I could even use it as leverage to tell him never to come back.
'I was going to go easy on him, too.'
He must not have fully matured yet, because Ivan was weaker than I'd expected.
Am I just too strong?
Hard to say.
No frame of reference.
"Ivan!"
Lancelot was busy checking the condition of his injured disciple.
When he saw the wrist bone dislocated and dangling, he let out a sigh and looked at me.
"It seems the match has been decided. Let's call it here."
"Looks that way. Doesn't seem like he can hold a sword with that hand."
Ivan, who had been gritting his teeth, finally spoke.
"I'm sorry, Master."
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Sir Lucas."
"What? But..."
"Did I not tell you clearly? Do not act rashly. By nature, a knight does not simply charge forward at all times. A knight observes the enemy, assesses himself, and acts with caution, again and again..."
Under Lancelot's scolding, Ivan bowed his head.
"And the Sword of the Lake was a gift I gave to Sir Lucas. How the recipient uses it is his own choice. The giver has no right to dictate how a gift is used."
"I'm sorry."
"I told you not to apologize to me."
Still clutching his dislocated wrist, Ivan walked up to me and lowered his head.
"I'm sorry. Forgive my rudeness."
"First, let's get that injury stabilized. Andrea."
"Already brought it."
In her hands were a wooden splint and bandages.
She was on top of things now without being told.
"Good job."
"That's what a competent employee does. Unlike some people."
She was definitely talking about Veronia.
Ever since Veronia's visit, Andrea had definitely been showing a stronger drive to be recognized.
I placed the splint she'd brought against his wrist and wrapped it with the bandage.
He kept his mouth firmly shut, but his face was full of complicated thoughts.
"It's dislocated, not broken, so it'll heal quickly."
He stared down at the bandages around his wrist for a moment.
Whatever the circumstances, I was the one who'd knocked his bone out, so I felt I should take some responsibility.
I glanced at the wild Pog meat.
Pork bone soup — good for bones.
I wasn't sure if it was actually good for bones, but it was made from bones, so it couldn't hurt, right?
"Since you're here, have a meal before you go."