136. Lucky, aren’t we?

2024.02.13.

Inside the stadium located at Nella Beach.

The locker rooms, still untouched by sweat, bustled with activity.

Federico visited each room, knocking to personally encourage the twenty finalists.

“Anyone here?”

Opening the door with a heavy heart, the last locker room already had Clade standing there, fully prepared.

As several servants finished their final touches and left the room, Clade smiled at Federico as if he had been waiting.

“You only sent women and didn’t visit me at all—I thought you’d given up on me. Seems I was mistaken?”

Despite his slightly disheveled blond hair and dry lips, not a trace of his beauty had faded.

Considering this man had skipped all social gatherings, ignored the doctor’s advice against mixing sleeping pills and alcohol, and canceled every engagement except the tournament preliminaries, he appeared remarkably composed.

“They’re not particularly high-ranking warriors. The ones to watch are Sir Marco of the South and Sir Eugene Kimfri, who participates by the Empress’s command.”

Just as Federico finished providing information about the opponents, brushing off Clade’s sarcasm, a page knocked to announce the start of the competition.

Federico sighed, seeing Clade silently staring at him, and drew back the curtain on the wall.

Walking together down the dim corridor leading to the arena, Clade finally spoke.

“Listen. I heard the Empress keeps her family treasures in the warehouse near Nella Beach.”

“Are you telling me a fool would store treasure in a place crawling with pirates?”

“Is it really surprising anymore how the Empress favors her birth family? Even if they’re just scraps of her vast treasures, they’re still treasures. Rumor has it the coastal warehouse is overflowing with them.”

“Is that all you have to say to me right now?”

“It’s not just your duty to guard the borders. If I’ve heard the rumors, so have the pirates.”

Federico silently stared at Clade’s calm face.

Bright light fell upon Clade’s face as he stood at the entrance of the arena.

Even if Federico could manipulate the preliminary brackets, unless he rigged every single match, there was no way to advance Clade any further.

Clade’s method—overpowering opponents with only basic techniques and no flashy skills—would meet its match today, on this final stage. His luck would run out.

To convince the anti-Imperial faction still in the South and consolidate their forces, they needed Clade to demonstrate his abilities.

‘Passing the preliminaries isn’t enough.’

Yet this beautiful, wayward ex-Emperor kept talking about the Empress’s treasure and pirates, burning Federico up inside.

Clade’s dark eyes swept indifferently over the excited audience.

Merchants who spared no gold to secure front-row seats, Southern nobles, and, in the most honored seats, Empress Marilyn and her entourage, overlooking the arena.

Near Ariesta, who sat with sparkling eyes, there was a woman, like a black speck among the group.

As Clade scanned the crowd, the moment his violet pupils locked onto that dark speck, his gaze sank even deeper into shadow.

Drifting away, then snapping back.

Turning his head elsewhere, only to be drawn back again…

That dark, unnoticed gaze wavered and settled repeatedly until the fanfare announcing the fighters’ entrance rang out.

His pale hand, unblemished by so much as a single blemish, tightly gripped the hilt of the practice sword, making blue veins rise.

The composed expression on his face began to carry the cold light of a trained swordsman.

Now that the face he had ignored and fled from for a month stood before him, every sense in his body—dulled by alcohol and sleeping pills—sharply awakened.

***

Yuan absentmindedly watched the arena, following the announcer’s voice signaling the start of the finals.

Having briefly escaped Eugene’s watch under the pretense of feeling unwell, Yuan had just sent an information broker—via Noel, who, guilty of his own misdeeds, was conveniently reluctant to question Yuan’s actions—to locate her uncle in the Torca Islands.

The reason she had insisted on coming to this rough venue despite her poor health was that the information broker had left a drop point near Nella Beach, where the stadium stood.

She had calculated that once the match heated up, neither she nor Noel leaving briefly under the excuse of visiting the lounge would seem suspicious.

With the troublesome Eugene Kimfri participating in the tournament, Yuan wasn’t about to miss the chance to shake off her most relentless guardian.

“Entrance!”

Yuan, whose mind had been entirely focused on slipping away, suddenly straightened in her seat.

“Clade?”

He was among the twenty swordsmen who had advanced to the finals.

How could someone who had been confined to a mansion for ten years possibly take part in a sword tournament?

‘What if he gets hurt?’

Her heart, previously dulled by boredom, pounded so violently it felt like it might burst.

Clade did have an unusually sturdy build for someone who’d spent over a decade locked in a room, but was this even remotely reasonable?

Having had no idea Clade had participated throughout the entire month of private preliminaries, Yuan was doubly shocked.

‘This can’t be real.’

As if mocking her worry, the final match began immediately.

The twenty swordsmen on the main stage had to knock each other down until only the final four remained for the semifinals.

Yuan covered her face with both hands.

Through the gaps between her fingers, she saw the twenty swordsmen rush at one another.

Each time Clade’s cold face glided calmly through the crowd, she trembled, unable to control her shaking shoulders.

Other swordsmen began losing their morale, overwhelmed by Marco of the South, whose swift blade drew all eyes, and Eugene Kimfri, whose heavy swordsmanship crushed opponents.

And while everyone’s attention was elsewhere, Clade cleanly struck down anyone who approached him.

Clearly.

Clade wielding a sword looked utterly unfamiliar.

Yuan lowered her hands and stared blankly at the scene.

And when she finally came to her senses moments later, only three swordsmen remained unscathed on the arena—Clade, along with Marco and Eugene Kimfri.

“Lucky, aren’t we?”

Empress Marilyn lightly remarked, sipping fine wine.

It was a comment about Clade.

Indeed, those around Clade were either fleeing in fear of Eugene Kimfri’s strength or already lying defeated.

“For someone locked away for ten years, his physical strength seems decent enough. Though, of course, the extraordinary bloodline of the illustrious Euphris royal family wouldn’t just vanish—especially with such exceptional bone structure.”

The Empress, recalling the Emperor’s imposing figure, waved her hand dismissively, then lightly teased the pale Yuan.

Yuan, who had been tense throughout the match, finally leaned back against her chair and exhaled deeply.

She had been so anxious that she briefly suffered a nosebleed and had to compose herself.

Thanks to Eugene and Marco’s fierce performances, the match ended before Clade could get injured.

It couldn’t have been luckier.

“Th-th-thank goodness.”

When even Noel whispered in agreement, Yuan finally nodded, visibly relieved.

“Then! We will advance the one among the three with the highest score to the finals, while the remaining two will compete in the semifinal match!”

The announcer stepped to the center of the arena to clarify the situation.

The injured were carried away on stretchers, and those who had fled during the chaos hesitantly returned and exited together through the entrance.

And then—

The stadium’s entrance doors suddenly swung open with a loud noise.

The Empress Marilyn’s face, which had been watching Clade with intrigued eyes, slowly hardened.

It was Bollonico’s arrival, accompanied by Harol Companni and the Imperial First Knight Division.

“Everyone, rise! In obedience to the Emperor’s command!”

Harol Companni’s booming voice made the audience rise in unison.

Bollonico stepped into the center of the arena, savoring the murmuring gaze of the crowd.

“In obedience to the Emperor’s command, I, Bollonico Euphris, as the First Crown Prince of the Euphris, have come to cross swords with the swordsmen of the South.”

The Empress stared at Bollonico with a rigid expression.

In Bollonico’s hand was a magnificent ceremonial sword, specially bestowed by the Emperor.

“Since there are exactly three swordsmen remaining for a spot meant for four, we can now fulfill the Emperor’s command!”

Harol Companni stepped forward, urging audience approval. The sudden appearance of the First Crown Prince sent the crowd into frenzy.

“Waaah—!”

“The First Crown Prince himself has come to the South!”

Not just Yuan, but even Noel froze, unable to look away from Clade.

“!”

Yet contrary to their fears—

a sudden, cruel glint flashed in Clade’s cold, sunken eyes.

Yuan, seeing this murderous gaze in Clade for the first time, clutched her knees tightly.

***

Sir Marco, hailed as the pride of the South, finally gripped the given live blade, warily watching the prince before him.

“What is your name?”

“Marco Uta.”

“Uta…”

Bollonico painted his familiar, widely recognized kind smile across his face.

“So you’re one of the rebel remnants still not eradicated.”

Marco stiffened at the cold tone that followed.

To speak of his maternal family’s faction in such a cruel manner was deeply offensive.

The tip of his extravagantly decorated sword pointed toward Marco.

“You see, there’s someone I must defeat to advance and meet.”

Before Marco could frown in displeasure, Bollonico grinned broadly and whispered,

“So you’ll have to lose a little. The time has come for me to personally sever the monster’s fate.”

With those cruel words, Bollonico surged forward.