Instead of his usual gentle expression, I saw his eyes focused intently, carefully observing my movements.
How on earth had I ended up sparring with the original novel’s secondary male lead? Life was full of unpredictable turns. But right now, more than pondering such oddities, I needed to concentrate on the match at hand.
I moved inward first, swinging my sword, and as expected, he immediately parried the strike.
“Your center of gravity is leaning forward.”
“Ah, I’ve been criticized for that before. Now Yezar points it out too.”
Smiling cheerfully, I briefly retreated and clashed blades again. Perhaps due to our difference in build, I noticed a slight mismatch in our lines of sight.
‘If I just push a little deeper inside…’
First, I pushed against his downward pressure to create space, then swiftly swung my wooden sword upward from below.
As anticipated, he blocked it instantly and quickly shifted his stance to counterattack.
Under the force of his momentum, my body kept being pushed backward.
‘Even with my non-dominant hand, he’s this good? It feels like I can’t even graze him.’
Fighting someone who moved in real time—constantly shifting positions and launching unexpected attacks—was far more difficult than facing a motionless wooden dummy.
Sensing my struggle, he seemed eager to end the match quickly by probing for my weaknesses.
Then, a memory surfaced—words spoken to me long ago by one of the Count’s knights.
“Miss, you tend to leave your left flank poorly guarded. When you’re anxious, that side becomes especially vulnerable.”
‘Then what should I do?’
The knight had advised that if facing an opponent unfamiliar with my swordsmanship, I should feign an opening to lure them into attacking.
“But we’ll handle all the guarding, Miss. You just keep it in mind.”
I recalled laughing at the time, remembering my father’s warning: if the guards ever failed so badly that I had to step in, he’d dismiss them immediately.
I never thought that memory would come in handy. But now, my husband—eager to end the spar and let me rest—shifted his blade toward my left flank.
‘My husband is thoughtful even in moments like this.’
Yet, his kind consideration gave me an opening.
Pretending to defend along the line of his blade, I swiftly adjusted my stance, and for a brief moment, I sensed Yezar’s surprise.
But he wasn’t the commander of the Blue Knights—renowned for unmatched swordsmanship—for nothing. He quickly reacted, attempting to block my incoming strike.
‘But it’s too late.’
One of the compliments I’d received during my sword training was that I attacked relentlessly, overwhelming opponents with speed.
Before he could fully reposition, my wooden sword brushed the tip of his chin.
‘I barely hit it—!’
Unable to hide my joy, I broke into a wide smile and prepared to press the attack. But he instantly regained his posture, defended, and pushed my blade aside.
Still, I tried my best to hold my ground and counterattack, but after a few more exchanges, my wooden sword flew out of my hand, ending the match.
I collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily.
“Ah. What a shame.”
Even if I wanted to attack again, my sword had flown too far away to retrieve. Besides, the moment I lost my grip, my defeat was inevitable.
I glanced at my sore wrist. I’d always prided myself on my speed. Yezar, charging forward with relentless force, had been no easy opponent.
A shadow fell over me as I sat slumped on the ground.
“Looks like I’m no match for Yezar after all.”
“I think I pushed my wife too hard.”
He was back to his usual gentle expression, anxiously checking on my condition.
“No, not at all. If you hadn’t taken this seriously, I’d have been upset. Thank you.”
My wrist stung, but a simple treatment after returning would surely fix it. More than that, I was glad to have sparred with him, even briefly.
‘I wonder how jealous the Orbetian knights will be when I tell them about this?’
The mere thought made me smile brightly, and Yezar smiled back.
“You would’ve made an excellent knight, madam.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t have to say that after winning.”
“I mean it.”
So he was being sincere. It felt like a compliment, and I felt proud.
I quickly stood up to brush the dirt off my clothes.
But as I rose, my whole body tingled with fatigue.
‘…Looks like I overexerted myself by suddenly pushing my body this hard.’
Though I’d only done basic training beside Yezar, perhaps I’d been too idle in my room lately, preoccupied with wedding preparations.
Or maybe, since arriving at the ducal estate, focusing on my duties as duchess had left little time for physical activity.
Whatever the reason, moving right now was difficult.
“…I’m sorry, Yezar. I think I overdid it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Suddenly moving like this strained my muscles. My legs are trembling.”
No wonder moderation was best for the body. I was about to ask him to support me when he suddenly said:
“If I carry you in my arms, the problem is solved.”
“What?”
“You’ve already agreed.”
Then, without warning, I was suddenly lifted into his arms. Startled, I tried to protest.
“Ah, you don’t have to do this! Put me down!”
“It’s dangerous. Don’t struggle. And aren’t your legs in pain?”
“But won’t you be tired…?”
“Not at all.”
Answering cheerfully, he began walking steadily with me in his arms. Too exhausted to resist, I simply gave up and let myself be carried.
But I didn’t forget to make one thing clear.
“This is only happening today! My legs are shaky from overexertion!”
“Yes, I understand, madam.”
Yezar looked at me—chattering anxiously—as if he were savoring honey. Perhaps more than a little, but possibly very much so.
Unconsciously, I blushed, feeling embarrassed. Not exactly appropriate for a cleanly defined contractual marriage.
Ditvan, the personal physician of the Ferhaem Duchy, finished wrapping Julietta’s wrist and let out a deep sigh.
“I heard you were sparring, but couldn’t you have taken it easy?”
“Is my wife’s condition really that bad?”
It wasn’t extremely serious, but she definitely shouldn’t overuse her wrist for a while.
Ditvan was about to say this when a long string of worries followed.
“Perhaps I should’ve controlled my strength more… The lady says her legs suddenly gave out from overexertion… And also…”
“Young master… No, Your Grace, please sit still.”
While Ditvan tended to Julietta, Yezar paced restlessly around the room like a dog desperate to go out. He was so agitated that even telling him to calm down had no effect.
Seeing this, Julietta herself said, as if to calm him:
“Yes, Yezar. I’m perfectly fine. Please sit down.”
His words, spoken by the household’s long-serving physician, had no impact at all. But when the duchess told him to calm down, Yezar immediately sat down obediently, gazing at her quietly.
‘This is like a dog meeting its master.’
She hadn’t meant to think of him that way, but the comparison was too fitting.
After finishing the bandage, Ditvan glanced slightly at Julietta. Her vivid red hair, lively green eyes, upturned gaze, and overall bright, energetic aura—
‘Completely different from that girl.’
The thought was unavoidable. For those who had long resided in this mansion, one thing was impossible to miss: the young master’s painfully unrequited love.
Yezar and Bertisha, now the duke, had been close since childhood, and their frequent visits meant the servants had all seen her at least once.
Ditvan, having served here for years, had also met Bertisha. In his memory, that little girl had been small and delicate, as if she needed constant protection.
Yes, she was exactly like a snowdrop.
‘Despite her family’s lower rank, she was well-educated—graceful and gentle. The young master fell for her at first sight and followed her around like a puppy.’
Back then, Ditvan hadn’t said much, but he’d never particularly liked Bertisha.
To his eyes, it was clear: even with a man so obviously devoted circling her, she offered only politeness, showing no interest in deepening the relationship.
‘Still, I’m glad the young master no longer comes to me for emotional distress.’
He’d known from the start it wouldn’t end well. But he hadn’t expected it to become this severe. The room the young master arrived in, led by the steward, was in disarray.
Mental illness was beyond Ditvan’s reach. Watching the young master shut himself in his room, swallowing pain and growing weaker each day, pained his heart.
Having cared for Yezar since he was a tiny child, Ditvan felt it even more deeply.
‘Midway, for some reason, he began improving, then suddenly announced he was getting married. I wondered what kind of lady she was…’
“Nice and neat. Thank you.”
After warmly thanking him with a bright smile, the woman immediately rushed to the young master’s side.
Watching her reassure him—despite his drooping posture—that she was perfectly fine, Ditvan couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
Yes, this young lady, now the mistress of the ducal house, seemed less like someone who needed protection and more like someone who could protect others.
Proof? That big, once lifeless boy, who had locked himself in his room looking near death, was now smiling as if his eyes had melted.
Still, there was one question. Rumor had it throughout the ducal household that the lady and the young master had secretly fallen in love and married.
But as far as Ditvan knew, during Yezar’s period of unrequited longing, he hadn’t been ready to meet any other woman.
How the two had met, ended up marrying, and now looked at each other as if dripping with honey—well, he didn’t know. But sincerely, Ditvan wished them happiness.
On the other hand, the young master, once a mere child, had grown into a man who, in any sparring match, never so much as got a scratch.
And yet, this woman had left a mark on his chin. She was clearly no ordinary person.
But for leading a once helpless, inwardly suffering young master, a strong-willed girl like her was far better.
“Madam, next time I’ll be much more careful…”
“It’s fine! Why the sad face? Come on, smile. Right now!”
“Yes, madam.”
‘But all this affectionate chatter gives me goosebumps.’
Ditvan slightly turned his head and gazed out the window. The treatment had ended long ago. He desperately wished these goosebump-inducing couple would just leave already.
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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