137. Remember This Well

2024.02.14.

The audience seating fell silent for a moment.

It was because the match had ended faster than expected.

The VIP section where the Empress and her entourage were seated grew cold, as if someone had doused it with icy water.

“……Bollonico.”

Empress Marilyn quietly murmured her son’s name.

Marco, hailed as the pride of the south and backed by the cheers of the crowd, had ultimately been defeated after a fierce and bloody duel against Bollonico.

Yet the Empress’s expression was not one of sorrow over her son’s loss.

As Noel cautiously observed the Empress’s demeanor, Yuan and Tasha turned their gaze toward the other semifinal match.

“Crown Prince seems to have recovered quite well.”

Tasha muttered, sounding surprised.

Clade and Eugene Kimfri’s swords clashed rapidly multiple times.

Eugene Kimfri’s heavy, powerful strikes rained down, targeting Clade’s vital points, but Clade’s defense was far from weak.

It was a battle between overwhelming offense and flawless defense.

“When we were children, they always fought evenly. They trained together under Sir Elias, the Empire’s greatest swordsman, now retired.”

Tasha couldn’t hide her flushed excitement at the thrilling match.

“Back then, my brother always lost to the Crown Prince….”

Before Tasha could finish her sentence, the match ended abruptly.

The arena floor was gouged and scarred deeply, as though raked by a giant.

On it, Clade sat collapsed, while Eugene Kimfri stood, breathing heavily.

“Victory to Sir Eugene Kimfri!”

At the referee’s call, Tasha added with a smile,

“No matter how talented someone may be, it’s hard to defeat someone who’s honed their skills every single day.”

There was a hint of pride in her voice.

Yuan’s face was now visibly pale, growing paler by the second.

She couldn’t bear to keep her eyes open and watch the scene unfolding before her.

Having seen Eugene’s powerful strike slash Clade’s thigh, her heart felt like it was burning up.

If she could, she would rush down immediately—stop the bleeding, absorb his pain, disinfect the wound, and stitch it shut without a second thought.

Noticing Yuan’s silence, Tasha quietly asked,

“Are you disappointed the Crown Prince lost?”

“No.”

Yuan quickly shook her head.

While it was regrettable that Clade had lost, she truly felt relieved.

What if, by some stroke of luck, he had won and advanced to the finals?

Just imagining him facing Bollonico—whom the Emperor had personally armed with the royal sword and sent south—made her head spin.

What if, through Bollonico’s schemes, Clade were to suffer even greater injuries, or worse, face mortal danger?

At that moment, Yuan knew without a shred of hesitation that she would sprint into the arena, throw caution to the wind, and plunge her sword straight into Bollonico’s heart.

Yuan wiped away the nosebleed that had started again from stress, then leaned her tense body back against the chair’s headrest.

But unlike Yuan, who had just caught her breath, Eugene Kimfri’s actual situation was entirely different.

***

Eugene Kimfri exhaled raggedly.

Before his eyes, Clade’s left thigh was split open so deeply that bone was visible.

Even as he watched blood spread across the fabric of Clade’s pants, Eugene felt no triumph—instead, his hand gripping the sword clenched and unclenched uncontrollably.

“Why didn’t you keep fighting?”

Clade’s sword, which had only defended.

Eugene had relentlessly pressured Clade, who had executed nothing but basic movements any proper swordsman would know, and with each clash, Eugene felt his blade vibrate so violently it numbed his hands.

This was the first time he’d faced an opponent who could make him feel this way—someone not at the Swordmaster level.

‘Swordmaster? No way.’

Suddenly,

Eugene’s face twisted in pain.

With trembling hands, he traced the places where fine, precise cuts had been made across his chest and side.

As he took step after step toward Clade, the wounds began to split open—then burst with bright red blood.

That strike had nearly severed not just skin, but his heart.

The technique was clean and flawless. If Clade hadn’t suddenly collapsed and waved his hand, Eugene would have undoubtedly lost.

An attack he hadn’t even sensed coming.

“Why did you deliberately lose?”

He spat the words at Clade, who had just planted his sword into the ground and was staggering to his feet.

Arena staff began clearing the field for the upcoming final match.

Clade’s violet eyes, resembling violets, flicked past Eugene Kimfri’s shoulder, scanning the tournament hall where Bollonico was ascending.

Seeing Bollonico’s excited expression, Clade roughly wiped his split lip with his thumb and replied,

“Winning here isn’t my goal.”

“……”

“You’ve gotten stronger. Now you’re somewhat competent.”

The face that had always defeated Eugene in their childhood now wore a smile.

It was a distorted smile, far from warm, but undeniably sincere.

Until Clade, supported by staff, completely left the arena, and a nearby physician hurried to treat his wounds,

Eugene Kimfri couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door through which Clade had disappeared.

“Tch. Still as oblivious as ever.”

Bollonico, who had approached unnoticed, sneered at Eugene.

“I would’ve enjoyed crushing that monster myself… but no help for it. Sorry, but I absolutely must win this.”

Bollonico raised the Emperor’s royal sword high, provoking cheers from the crowd.

As soon as Eugene’s wounds were treated, the announcer swiftly called for the start of the final, riding the wave of applause.

Bollonico’s relaxed expression turned cold in an instant.

His icy blue eyes sharpened like a hawk’s, locking onto prey.

“Eugene Kimfri. Let’s see if you’ll act oblivious again this time. For me, this is merely the final of some petty local swordsmanship tournament, but for you, it’s finally your chance to prove your loyalty to the imperial family.”

Eugene gripped his real sword tighter. His amber eyes darkened.

Beep-!

The moment the whistle blew, the two men clashed violently.

***

Yuan rushed out of the audience seats and sprinted down the corridor in a daze.

She ran so frantically that even Noel, who had followed after her, struggled to keep up, searching desperately for Clade’s waiting room.

Recalling that unlike Eugene, who had quickly received treatment, Clade had merely been helped away, she felt a surge of urgency.

At the very least, she needed to confirm whether a proper doctor was treating him.

Weaving through the crowds of spectators filling the corridor, past those managing the crowd and attendants, Yuan was suddenly startled by a voice booming through the stadium.

“The champion is Sir Eugene Kimfri, Captain of the Second Imperial Knight Division!”

“Waaah-!”

A scream-like cheer echoed all the way down the corridor where Yuan stood.

Seizing the chaos, Yuan grabbed passing staff members rushing about and asked for Clade’s location.

Only after asking several times did she receive an answer: eliminated contestants were required to leave the stadium.

She immediately pushed through the crowd pouring into the stadium and rushed outside.

Just as the staff had said, among the people streaming toward the stadium, she saw eliminated participants limping away, boarding horses or carriages to return home.

Yuan frantically scanned the area for a man with brilliant golden hair.

And then—

From far off, near the beach, several knights came galloping in, faces pale, shouting as they passed Yuan.

“Pirates!”

“The Karso Pirate Gang!! A large-scale attack!!”

The name “Karso Pirate Gang” echoed from the stadium entrance inward—and the cheers for the winner outside instantly turned into screams.

“Karso! The Karso Pirate Gang!”

“Run!”

“Get out of the way!!”

People who had been entering the stadium now surged back out at incredible speed.

Yuan staggered, swept along like a child caught in a wave.

Far across the beautiful Nella Beach, a swarm of tiny black figures—pirates—could be seen crossing the sea, multiplying like a furious swarm of bees.

At that moment, without realizing it, she froze—then spotted a man in a black mask walking toward the beach, the very place everyone else was fleeing from.

Beside him, limping as if injured, was a man towering over the others—walking with someone who looked like Federico Companni.

“Y-Y-Yuan!”

Noel, who had barely caught up, chased after Yuan, frantically pushing through the rushing crowd.

***

Meanwhile.

While pirates raided the coastal warehouse and looted the Empress’s treasures,

Knights who had begun tracking the pirates’ origin were preparing to set sail for a small island suspected to be the pirate gang’s base.

Among the people moving toward the prepared ships, Federico quickly approached Clade.

“Your Highness? You’re the one who spread the rumor about the treasure?”

Federico asked in a trembling voice, recalling how Clade had been muttering about pirates earlier that day, just before entering the arena.

“You never intended to win the tournament from the start, did you?”

A low chuckle escaped from beneath the mask, the eyes barely visible.

A faint light flickered in the sharp, violet pupils as they gazed into the distance.

“Remember this well.”

Clade’s chin pointed far away—toward the largest, most dazzling golden carriage near the stadium.

“Will the Crown Prince, who retrieved Igor’s sword and reached the finals, be the one to protect the south? Or…”

His voice dropped cold, settling into Federico’s ears.

“Will the Crown Prince who failed to even reach the finals be the one to protect the south?”

Federico and the retainers followed the direction of Clade’s chin—and their eyes instantly flashed with fury.

“How dare they…!”

“This can’t be….”

They had seen Bollonico fleeing toward the golden carriage alongside Harol Companni.

Clade led the stunned men onto the prepared ship.

Far behind, utterly unaware that his wife was fiercely chasing after him.