Chapter 25
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Unexpected Victory
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“Still, is that okay?”
Russell tried to subtly dissuade Byaki, but Byaki remained adamant.
“Come on, Russell. Don’t bother stopping it—just let it play out this once.”
“...I don’t know.”
Russell gave a vague reply, furrowing his brow as he gazed toward the Great Bear Knight Order’s training grounds.
The pink-haired girl wasn’t easy to spot. Even from a distance, anyone could immediately recognize her as the youngest sister—the disgrace of their house.
Russell reflexively started to intervene, but he shook his head upon seeing Charlotte gripping her wooden sword with resolve.
No one could babysit his sister forever just because she lacked talent.
‘For Charlotte to come this far, she must have steeled her resolve...’
Any true swordsman had to face an opponent’s blade sooner or later. And stumbling or getting a little hurt in the first spar wasn’t the end of the world.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Russell sighed, as if it wasn’t his place to meddle, and Byaki nodded eagerly.
Byaki had come to see Charlotte as a real thorn in his side lately.
He couldn’t stand how Isaac—who ignored their every word—was coddling her so much. And now here she was, boldly strutting into the training grounds. Hardly a pleasant sight.
To make matters worse, she kept hanging around that third prince exiled to their house. Infuriating.
If she had no skill, she should at least know her place. But Charlotte’s recent brazen attitude was bizarre. She’d lost even that bare minimum of self-awareness, no longer shrinking under others’ gazes.
So if Lancelot put her in her place instead? Not a bad outcome.
“That side-branch punk Lancelot strutting around hasn’t been fun to watch either, but at least he’s good for something.”
It was high time to knock down Charlotte’s newfound arrogance—especially when Isaac wasn’t around to shield the Setia disgrace.
“Well, let’s just watch.”
Russell nodded too.
Only the instructor—who knew Lancelot’s temperament all too well and realized they weren’t even scheduled to spar—fidgeted anxiously between them.
At that moment, a servant blew the horn. The signal to begin.
Charlotte’s demeanor shifted in an instant.
Lancelot’s half-raised hand froze midair.
Eyes that held no doubt of victory. In that split second, he’d surely seen it.
Before the horn’s echo faded, her small frame shot forward.
Charlotte sized up the man before her, Lancelot. A drawn-out fight offered zero chance of winning. Stamina, muscle power, endurance, agility—even her build. She held no advantages.
She’d only trained internal energy so far, never properly wielded a sword. Untrained muscles and grip strength were fatal weaknesses. Without his patronizing gaze, this would’ve been an utter rout.
A few weeks or months from now? Maybe different.
But his underestimation would decide this bout.
She clamped down on the well-worn hilt with her soft, untrained palm.
No complex forms. Her body couldn’t handle them.
“Plum Blossom Roadside.”
In martial spars, announcing the form was custom and courtesy. She called it out and lunged. The first form of the 24 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques. Her blade thrust out, trembling feebly.
Lancelot wondered what nonsense the wench was muttering. That limp wooden sword looked child’s play to swat away. He swung lazily.
Mount Hua Sect swordsmanship was beautiful, laden with feints. Charlotte’s blade veered at the last instant, just shy of clashing.
“Plum Blossom Butterfly Dance.”
Plums dancing like butterflies. Her sword curved back in, weaving two feints.
Without sword ki or aura, it was simplistic to a fault. But pressing it to a careless trainee’s throat? The first two forms sufficed.
Lancelot blinked in disbelief at the blade at his neck. How had the gap closed so fast? How had it ended like this? Unfathomable.
“My victory. Concede?”
Lancelot stood speechless. The instructor beside him, fidgeting since the start. Betty, who’d been stamping her feet anxiously. Even Byaki and Russell, who hadn’t intervened.
“What just happened?”
“Did Lancelot just...”
“Lose...?”
Murmurs rippled through the children.
Charlotte flashed a mocking smile, amused by his silence.
Lancelot’s green eyes flashed sharply. He glared at her, belated irritation surging.
“What trick was that?”
“What trick?”
“You used sorcery, no doubt. Otherwise, there’s no way I’d lose to a spoiled brat who lounges around playing dress-up! I won’t accept it. Again? Huh? Let’s go again?”
In the midst of the squabbling, the most stunned was Russell Setia.
“What did I just witness, Byaki?”
But Byaki wasn’t in any shape to answer properly.
“...Hate to admit it, but yeah. Same here.”
Only after that mumbled confirmation did Russell know his eyes hadn’t lied.
“Good lord.”
Lancelot had lost.
Sure, it looked like carelessness on his part. But Lancelot possessed talent beyond belief for a side-branch kid.
What had he just seen?
Merely two motions.
Not something to make a fuss over, perhaps. But the wielder was none other than Charlotte Setia.
His sister was undeniably a coward.
Failing to manifest talent? Hardly surprising. She simply lacked the innate vessel for a warrior.
Crying at every turn, zero focus, dodging everything.
Not just unworthy of the Setia name—she made it shameful.
Still, she was his sister. He’d once tried shielding her to some degree.
Figuring she couldn’t adapt to the family’s sword-obsessed culture, he’d pitied her talentless state.
But Charlotte hadn’t applied herself to anything, let alone swords.
Excuses only.
Always.
Lies and vanity, fumbling through with empty words.
She loathed effort itself, masking flaws with chatter.
Russell had no idea the burden his mother carried after Charlotte’s failure to awaken talent. Blissfully ignorant, Charlotte wasted time gallivanting, chasing worthless schemes to fit in with noble brats.
Eventually, Russell stopped protecting her. No minimal effort? Done.
But this sister before him now was different.
Her eyes gleamed.
Not the desperate glint of instant gratification, but the pride of hard-earned triumph.
“Hey, Russell. What’s the plan?”
Byaki’s voice dripped flustered confusion.
“Huh? Plan for what?”
“What do you mean? We gotta put Charlotte in her place, right? Looks like that moron Lancelot’s the one who got humbled.”
Russell’s hand habitually clenched and released the thick scabbard at his waist.
He’d once wanted to knock her down a peg, true.
But only because he’d suspected she’d hoodwinked Isaac and the rest with some ridiculous ploy.
Looking back now, Charlotte had been oddly poised even before the House Lord lately. No groveling for favor at banquets.
‘What if Charlotte’s been training in secret all along, and I just didn’t notice? What if that’s why she can beat Lancelot now? Then... there’s no reason to hate her.’
Russell dazedly gripped and released his scabbard once more.
“Hey, Russell?”
As Byaki nudged his shoulder, Russell snapped upright and met his gaze.
“I’m out. That’s as far as I go for me.”
“...What?”
“Do whatever you want—I won’t interfere. But me? No need to do anything more to Charlotte.”
Russell turned and walked off. Byaki gawked at his broad retreating back in disbelief.
He couldn’t fathom why, these past few days, the entire Setia house seemed to be going soft on Charlotte.
“Hey, Russell! You too? What’s wrong with everyone?”
But it wasn’t just Russell—the instructor saluted Charlotte with an impressed, dazed expression and left.
With no one to hear him out, Byaki scowled alone, lost in agonized confusion over what the hell was happening.
Meanwhile, Lancelot was still bellowing at Charlotte.
“What sorcery did you pull? Some artifact? No way I accept this. Huh?”
Thud.
Charlotte clearly bristled at his words.
She was primed for another round, despite the rotation.
But as she stepped back, the wooden sword slipped from her grasp, clattering across the ground. Her arm spasmed, muscles twitching from the sudden tension and unfamiliar speed.
Charlotte gave a wry smile, rubbing her arm. She reached for the sword again, but her hand quivered too violently to even clench a fist.
Still, she didn’t abandon it. Left hand seized the hilt; she rose.
“If you really want more...”
“...Huh?”
Lancelot whipped around at the words. Another shadow stepped between them.
“I’ll spar with you.”