Chapter 8

I swung my sword. However, now it held intent.

It found the openings in my opponent’s defense, thrusting and piercing their weaknesses.

However, my sword swung with determination, met Ricktman’s sword, and was deflected.

It flew out of my hand and bounced on the ground a few times.

I gaze at the fallen weapon on the floor and let out a hollow laugh.

“Heh… Ricktman, it seems I can’t defeat you.”

“No, my lord. You have excellent skills.”

I wiped away the sweat covering my face, but Ricktman remained unfazed, not shedding a single drop of sweat but maintaining a calm expression.

“However, it might be better to move a bit more calmly. Your offense is good, but there are many openings. Always observe your opponent’s movements.”

“Thank you. Can we spar once again?”

“As many times as you wish, My Lord.”

Despite further attempts, I still couldn’t touch Ricktman. He effortlessly defended against my attacks, and I still couldn’t read his intentions.

It wasn’t really that strange.

Currently serving as the head butler of the Brontë family, Ricktman was once an exceptional swordsman who even became the commander of the knights.

Moreover, no matter how skilled Edward was in swordsmanship, I wasn’t him.

“Let’s stop here for today.”

“Understood, My Lord.”

Then, a sudden thought crossed my mind.

If I were to receive Ricktman’s assistance, could we thwart Johann’s attack? Ricktman was an excellent knight, so handling Johann’s gang should be easy.

However, I soon realized the impossibility.

As of now, I am the only one who knows Johann’s true identity as the drug lord. Even if I revealed it to Ricktman, he wouldn’t believe it.

Johann had a considerable standing as a skilled entrepreneur within the family.

On the way back from the training ground to the mansion, I asked Ricktman.

“Ricktman.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“May I ask you one thing?”

“You may ask anything.”

While I couldn’t wield Ricktman’s strength, I could undoubtedly borrow his experience and wisdom.

“To defeat someone with skills superior to mine, what should I do?”

“Hmm… that’s a difficult question.”

Ricktman touched the end of his beard, pondering, and then nodded with a “Hmm.”

“There might be several methods, but the conventional approach would be to become stronger than your opponent.”

“…If only it were that simple.”

“Haha… I was just joking.”

Ricktman spoke, lifting his index finger.

“As a former knight, it might sound odd, but if you truly want to win, you shouldn’t shy away from different means and methods. For instance…”

Ricktman kicked up some dirt from the ground.

“If you end up fighting on the ground like this, you can throw dirt into your opponent’s eyes and attack.”

“I see.”

However, if Johann were to attack, it would likely be within the mansion.

Although I had prepared some traps in anticipation, it seemed insufficient.

As I responded with an unsatisfied expression, Ricktman chuckled and raised the corners of his mouth.

“Also, as a knight, let me suggest one more method…”

“What is it?”

“Your heart, My Lord.”

“My heart?”

Ricktman placed his hand on his chest.

“Yes. That’s correct. Do you know who was the most challenging opponent I faced as a knight?”

“A strong knight?”

“Of course, facing a knight with great strength was challenging. However, it was even more challenging to defeat someone who fought desperately to protect something.”

“To protect something…”

“For instance.”

Ricktman looked up at the second-floor window of the mansion.

Ania, who had awakened, was staring blankly at the goldenglows blooming in the garden.

“During my time as a knight, my determination was to protect the empire. After joining the Brontë family, my dedication shifted to protecting the young lady. That’s why whenever I wield my sword, I fight with the image of the young lady in my mind.”

It was an absurd story, but I somewhat understood it.

A father exerts superhuman strength to protect his child or something along those lines.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad this old man’s words were of help.”

Ricktman smiled faintly, but I couldn’t be sure. Did I really… want to protect Ania to that extent?

“Of course, if something were to happen to Ania, my path ahead would be filled with thorns…”@@novelbin@@

Whether that was genuinely the desire to protect her, I still didn’t know.

***

“My Lady, I’m entering your room.”

As we entered, Ania’s face appeared somewhat flushed but maintained her timeless beauty.

She looked at me as she sat upright against the headboard.

Then, upon seeing the tray in my hands, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“I’m doing it because I want to.”

The corners of her mouth raised slightly.

It had been nearly four days since Ania succumbed to the cold.

While recovering from one in a few days was commonplace for a healthy person, Ania took much longer.

Thanks to that, I had been by her for several days.

“My Lady, my heart would be more at ease if you recover quickly.”

“Hehe…”

Ania nodded, satisfied with my response, her cheeks blushing ever so slightly.

Fortunately, the tormented expression she wore before collapsing eased a bit.

“Try taking a bite.”

Sitting by the bedside, I offered her a spoonful of porridge.

Ania opened her mouth gently and closed her eyes. Though it felt awkward initially, I had gotten used to it.

The spoon slid between Ania’s small, red lips.

“It’s delicious. What is it?”

“It’s a traditional dish from the East made by simmering rice for a long time. People often make and eat it when they’re unwell.”

“You have skills in cooking too?”

“It’s nothing special.”

Watching Ania eagerly accept each spoonful like a little bird, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

The woman who, with her sweet tongue, led men to their deaths…

It felt like someone was telling a blatant lie.

“Edward.”

As I absentmindedly handed her another spoonful, Ania called out to me.

“Why, doesn’t it suit your taste?”

“No, I’ve eaten enough. Now, it’s time for me to go to sleep.”

Ania spoke and crawled into bed, staring at me intently.

Wondering what was happening, I tilted my head, and she extended her small hand from beneath the blanket.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”

“Why don’t you ask a doctor for a prescription for sleeping pills?”

“Umm…”

Ania shook her head from side to side.

“That’s not it.”

Saying so, she reached out again towards me.

I understood the meaning.

It seems like she wants me to hold her hand.

Perhaps she just didn’t want to say it outright.

“When someone held my hand when I was young, I could sleep well. So, please hold my hand.”

“Why don’t you ask Ricktman?”

“…”

Ania squinted, glared at me, and said, “Hmph, never mind. Just go,” turning her body away from me.

After pondering for a while and sighing, I reluctantly held out my hand and said, “Is holding your hand really enough?”

“Yes.”

Ania’s expression brightened as she eagerly grabbed my hand.

Maintaining composure and pretending as if nothing was challenging has become a skill of its own.

Just like how beautiful scenery becomes ordinary when seen every day or how even the most delicious food loses its appeal when eaten daily.

However, why does Ania Brontë never seem to get boring, no matter how much I look at her?

Why does my heart pound at her every action?

“Hehe…”

Ania chuckled joyfully, closed her eyes, and held my hand as she tried to fall asleep.

“Sing for me.”

“Sing what?”

“A lullaby.”

“I’m not good at singing, nor do I know any lullabies.”

“That’s okay, just please sing for me.”

I only remembered the words to ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. As I sang poorly, Ania’s lips slowly relaxed. By the time I finished the song, she had already fallen into a deep sleep.

“Rest well.”

I murmured, placing my hand on Ania’s forehead. She still had a considerable fever.

Despite being unwell, she continued putting on a facade of speedy recovery.

The daughter of an esteemed family, indeed.

As I left Ania’s room and headed back to my own, I unexpectedly encountered someone: the maid, Lorendel.

“Master.”

“What’s the matter?”

“A guest has arrived.”

A guest?

Who could it be that they’ve come all the way to this mansion?

It’s either Valentine Brontë or Johann, but it’s likely not the Duke.

If it were him, Ania would have been in a frenzy, pushing herself out of bed to ensure everything was perfect.

So, the guest must be Johann.

I slowly opened the door to the guest reception room, thinking about what to say.

“Brother!”

However, it wasn’t Johann; it was someone else from the Radner family.

“Aria?”

“Brother! It’s been a while!”

She had red hair and a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

A magical prodigy, the second child of the Radner family, and currently the best mage of the Southeastern Tower.

Aria Radner.